#Drug Arrests

[missingexaltation]

Hopper being harsher on Eddie than any of the others post-Vecna because..."hell the kid's a drug dealer Joyce, and he's always around our kids."

The others run rampant, kids and older teens alike, but the second Munson is out of his sight, Hopper gets all itchy and concerned. It's his cop mode, he can't just switch it off around people he knows are bad for his family. He's being cautious.

So he thinks nothing of it when they're all around for a movie night, and Munson's disappeared. Hopper finds him outside, round the back of the house. But he's not smoking pot or snorting cocaine or breaking into anyone's car or anything.

He's got his tongue down the Harrington kid's throat.

The Harrington kid that Hopper hadn't even noticed was also missing from movie night. Because he's a good kid.

And Hopper backs the hell up and retreats back into the house, hopefully before he's noticed. But Eddie definitely saw him, and finds it hilarious.

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

Teacher: Sorry for being late, in exchange, we'll end the lesson earlier

Jason Todd, aka 'Robin': (⁠●_⁠●⁠)

(internally: *appalled* how can the lesson be shortened when we already began later, the math doesn't add up)

----

Jason Todd, aka 'Red Hood', being particularly mad at the Batfam over something: Sorry for being late for the mission. In exchange, I'll end my part of it earlier

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was exploring the new dorms my school made and talking to my friend about who’s all rooming together. After a little while he turns to me and says; “Did you hear that Mr. C is getting arrested?”

“Oh my God, no way! What for?”

“Making meth. Come on I’ll show you-“

He takes me down the hall to one of the dorms where the door was conveniently open so I could see in, where my teacher Mr. C was sat in front of a fish tank that was pouring out a fine white powder. We watch on as a whole squad of police run down the hall, into the dorm room, grab Mr. C, and drag him away.

[demonsinmysoul5000]

[nando161mando]

Monday in Dublin. Be there!

With Workers.

Against Racism.

#DublinRiots #Dublin #Ireland #PeopleBeforeProfit #PBP #AntiRacism #Antifascism

@antifainternational @anarchistmemecollective @kropotkindersurprise @radicalgraff

[whumble-beeee]

Yur Gonna Get Murdalated, Rookie

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 15.5

Content: adult character perceived as a minor, kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, guns, recreational drug use, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, past captivity references

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The Law Enforcement Policy Handbook, Chapter X: Superhumans

[Officers of the law have the right to ask any civilian to show their upper right arm to verify whether or not the civilian bears the ‘General Super Brand’. If the civilian does possess such a marking, they are superhuman; the officer has the right to use whatever superhuman training they may possess. 

If the brand indicates that the superhuman is also a ‘Latent Supervillain,’ ‘Supervillain,’ or Test Subject,’ the officer is also compelled to check the superhuman’s upper right shoulder blade for the ‘Hazardous Super Brand,’ colloquially known as ‘The Villain Brand.’ Depending on the contents of the brand, the officer may be required to arrest or otherwise subdue the superhuman. They are advised to use their best judgment to subdue the superhuman or hide and call for backup.]

* * * * * * * *

The night was peaceful. Boring, even. The type of night where you’d wanna just sit back and smoke a cigar in the amber-dusking twilight that spilled through the half-closed blinds of your office. It’s filled to bursting with old bookshelves sworn by the tests of time, a single chair for you to sit in as you work, and a sprawling, book-laden red oak wood desk, surrounded on all sides by stacks and stacks of notes, files, crucial evidence about your latest case. The scent of cigars burns your nose. You’re so close to a breakthrough, you could just about taste it on the tip of your tongue, You would find it, you always did, and you could feel it now, edging ever closer after a tirelessly rewarding and sleepless night.

And yet here Officer Kalis Brooks sat instead, bored out of her skull watching some dinky ass highway that was lucky if a car graced its beaten roads once every twenty minutes. 

If only she were a film noir detective. Truly an unfair life she led.

It was a suspicious sort of fellow she finally spotted slowly making his way down the highway. A scoundrel who wore a bandana over the lower half of his face.

A person with something to hide.

Of course, she pulled him over. Simply her duty as an officer of the law.

She approached the truck and rapped lightly on the driver’s side window, and it rolled down with a gentle whirr. She shined her flashlight into the vehicle, and the view to greet her was almost something of a–

Holy shit.

The driver sat there, lazily gripping the steering wheel, looking like some sort of modernized pseudo-cowboy with a buncha scary lookin’ gadgets. A burn scar ran all the way up the side of his face, down his neck, and reappeared on his arm where his leather jacket rolled up to his elbows. His eyes were dilated, every movement markedly relaxed. Disjointed. Uncanny even. 

He was definitely high. But at least he’d had the forethought to take off that bandana concealing his identity. That was a good thing, right?

Then her jaw nearly dropped when she registered the passenger. He didn’t even look at her, his gaze stiff and unseeing. Very obviously also high on some sort of drug, though Kalis reckoned this high was less than consensual. Not to mention the super-power suppression collar wrapped around his neck. 

He was a super. 

She wasn’t trained to handle cases like this. Was this a super kidnapping in progress?! Something more?

Shit, no time for film noir roleplay bullshit, this is serious.

This is a villain.

Her gaze snapped back to the driver, just as her hand unclipped the gun holstered at her hip.

“Sir, please step out of the car slowly with your hands up. You’re being detained under suspicion of committing an in-progress felony.”

The driver’s gaze immediately shot to his passenger. “Officer, there uh… seems to be a misunderstanding–”

“Step out of the car or I’ll have you arrested for disobeying an officer of the law.”

That got his attention. The driver blew his bangs out of his face with a slow, deep sigh, and equally slowly reached down to open the door. The metallic creak of the door swinging open was almost deafening in the moonlit night. 

“I should mention I have a gun holstered on my belt,” he drawled inattentively, boots crunching the sparse gravel scattered across the shoulder of the highway. His arms stayed firmly raised, thankfully. “A revolver. Left side.” 

“Thank you for informing me,” Officer Brooks said quickly. This man seemed to be an easy-going fella, thankfully, but air around him stank of danger, like the haze of the walking dead. She slipped the ornately decorated gun out of its holster and slapped all the bullets to the roadway with 6 distinctly clean clinks. Then triple-checked that the safety was on. Then a fourth time. The matching knife too, for good measure. 

“I’d like to ask you some questions,” she stated, barely halting her transatlantic accent from slipping through. Stop it with the film noir. “Show me your upper right arm, please.”

He sighed, then nodded, then struggled to push up the leather sleeves of his jacket enough to show her the clear absence of a super brand. 

Good, one less thing to worry about. Not a supervillain.

“Alright then, what’s going on with that boy in the truck, friend?”

“Nothin’ much. That’s Stan. He’s my ward.”

“Your ward?”

“Yuh. I have custody over him. He’s a test subject.”

“Really?” She said, voice full of faux intrigue.

“Really.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

“Handler, of sorts. A bounty hunter. I work with the police sometimes, actually, we have an arrangement.”

“Oh? An arrangement?” she asked, as if daring him to tell her all the illegal dealings he held in his hidden hand of cards.

He just shrugged.

Ugh, she hated these types.

 “Fine. You have any proof?”

“Think I left my bounty huntin’ papers in my other pants,” he quipped. “Check the kid's villain brand, call in my ID, talk to your boss. Should be proof enough.”

That was absolutely not how that worked. Though she did feel a slight vindication in her chest that she would actually probably arrest this man.

“You have your ID on you?”

“Mhm.” 

He flicked out his ID between forefinger and middle to the officer, seemingly plucking it from thin air before she snatched it out of his hand, noting every piece of identifying information, checking for signs of a fake. Nothing seemed to be out of order… Had he really just handed her his real ID?

“And you said something about the boy having a villain brand?”

The man– Declan Cansano, so said the ID– nodded. Then rolled his damn eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry, am I boring you?” She smiled sarcastically. “Need I make it obvious that you are suspected of kidnapping?” 

“I just have somewhere to be. It’s late. If you’d call in to ask about–”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No ma'am, I'm sayin’ you'd save yourself a lot–”

“Well stop ‘sayin'’ or I'll be ‘sayin’’ that you resisted arrest when I’m writing up your arrest report. This way.” 

She had to keep from grabbing his arm and yanking him as she led him over to her cruiser and deposited him near the passenger side door. Only after ordering him to turn around so she could cuff him behind his back of course.

“Stay here until I come back,” she ordered. “And remember that running from a uniformed officer is a criminal offense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lulled back, almost sing-songy while leaning nonchalantly against the car. “Keep an eye on the kid, he's the type you’d have to worry about.”

Because you kidnapped him? God, she couldn't wait to throw the book at that man. 

Kalis pressed the talk button on the radio clipped to her shoulder. “Officer Brooks reporting, I have a man pulled over here named Declan Cansano, roughly 6 and a half feet tall, blond, possibly… Latino? I have him detained for suspected kidnapping of the boy he has with him, a white brown-haired male, very battered and bruised and likely drugged who looks to be about… sixteen-ish? The man claims the boy is a super with villain status, and that he has jurisdiction over him as a ‘handler’ or ‘bounty hunter’ or something. Can you look him up for me?”

There was a moment of silence, then the radio crackled to life. “Report received, I'll look into a ‘Declan Cansano’ for you real quick. Do you have a name for the white male I can look into as well?”

“Not yet, I’m going to check that out now and get back to you shortly.”

“Wait,” A third voice interupted, familiar in just the right way to make Kalis’ heart flutter in her chest. Officer Frida Galleta. Her mentor, her favorite person on the force, one of the people she trusted most in this world. And… well, it didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes as well. “Brooks, did I hear you right? You said last name Cansano?”

Just as fast as it had soared, her heart dropped like a stone in a vacuum. She’d never heard that tone from Frida before. “I– I– Uh... yes. Why?”

“Oh god, I… Brooks, don’t engage with him– Look, I’m gonna call you on your personal cell–”

“Wait, Frida, what do you mean ‘don’t engage with him?’ I have him detained, I can’t not engage with him.”

“Officers, please keep small talk to a minimum over the radio,” Dispatch interrupted. “Officer Brooks, I couldn’t find anything on a ‘Declan Cansano’ anywhere, not the super or villain database, the criminal database, the employee database. But uh… to Officer Galleta’s point, if he said he’s a bounty hunter... Well, let’s just say you might wanna follow up with the chief about that before you make any decisions. They might have some sort of arrangement, so to speak.”

Arrangement…? Like a… Like…

Officer Brooks smelled the stinking injustice of a rat.

“Co–... Come again, dispatch?” she breathed into the radio.

“No!” Officer Galleta’s voice interrupted. “Dispatch, I’l’-I’lll handle this, no need to get the higher-ups involved. Please.” 

Then her phone rang. Officer Galleta’s beautiful profile photo graced her periphery as she pulled out the phone and promptly sent the call straight to voicemail, eyes straight ahead and staring into the pitch-black night. At the car that a captive was waiting for her in.

“Kalis, please answer your phone,” Galleta pleaded.

Officer Brooks silenced her radio, that wretched squeal, and started toward crime scene in the making.

It was a pig-filled world out there. She wouldn’t stand idly by as they made the entire world their mud pit.

Her phone rang again.

A single deep breath to steel her razor-sharp wit, then slammed open the passenger side door, preparing for the occupant to do anything from attacking like a spit-fire to running for the hills to grasping onto her and holding her close as the first friendly face this boy had seen in years.

Somehow, she didn’t expect the boy inside to startle and struggle, legs scrambling and weakly kicking at her to put distance between them. He leaned precariously back on the console of the car, shaking as if he were in hell when it finally froze over, and only then did she realize his hands were restrained behind his back.

Now that she wasn’t looking at him over the angry presence of a kidnapper, she could see clearly now that her first impression of him was so very wrong; He was so much worse off than she could have imagined. Deep-set dark circles under his eyes, so many bruises lining his skin, specks of dried blood flakes dotting his body, cuts caked with disgusting oozing brown, eyes dilated and bloodshot, angry red welts peaking out from under the power-suppressing collar that only could have been from being yanked around or choked, and dried blood-stains that drip-drip-dripped down the front of his oversized white t-shirt.

Her face went ashen at the ghastly scene. What had that man done?

Her phone rang once more. She muted it. It still buzzed in her pocket.

“Hi,” she started slowly. Her voice cracked slightly. “My name is Officer Brooks, or Kalis. I'm here to help you. What's your name?”

He simply returned her a wide-eyed stare. Then glanced over to her cruiser. At the man leaning on it. Then at her badge. Then down to his lap, not a single word uttered.

The phone buzzed with another call.

“It's alright,” she soothed, like a mother beckoning a lost child home. “He can't hurt you right now. I'm here to help you, but I need you to talk to me or else I can't help you. I need to know your name. It’s Stan, right? Stan? That’s what I heard from him.”

He looked up, staring into her as if she wasn't even there again, eyes so wide, so dilated. No words. He frowned, considering for a moment. Then a vindictive determination spread across his features and he moved his gaze right back to his lap.

“Alright, that's uh… that's alright.” She felt like a kindergarten teacher with the way she was talking. Her phone buzzed with yet another call. “Can I… can I at least see the super brand on your back? Can you do that for me, Stan?”

He jolted back. “No.”

More phone buzzing. Adrenaline surged in her chest. “Stan, please. I can't get you back to your family if I can't find out who you are.”

“... fam–... family?...” His eyes widened, pupils somehow blown even wider, unfocused into the middle distance.

“Yes, Stan.” She very carefully reached for the collar of his shirt, ready to pull back at any time. The boy didn’t react. “I just want to get you back to your family.”

Kalis pulled the shirt down just enough to reveal that awful blue of the villain brand. The blue that signified a test subject.

Shit, the bounty hunter had been telling the truth.

The phone buzzed once more. Kalis snatched it out of her pocket. Turning around swiftly so Stan wouldn’t think what was about to happen next was directed at him.

“What do you want?” She hissed. “I’m trying to talk to a kidnapping victim.”

“Oh thank god, you’re alright,” Frida's tinny voice came through the speaker.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I– Look, Kalis, I know this sounds bad, but I need you to let the bounty hunter go. Now.”

Officer Brooks grit her teeth. This was exactly what she was afraid of. “Why.”

“He’s… look, alright, I’m surprised no one told you before, but the police have a sort of… deal… with certain criminals and organizations. Mr. Cansano is one of them–”

“So you’re a dirty cop, then?” Kalis interrupted, voice strained, chest tight. “And– and you’re trying to bring me down with you, now? Frida, I–...  You should see what he’s done to this captive. I can't let him go.”

"I’m not a dirty cop! Not the way you’re thinking at least, I– just trust me, I can't even say over the phone but I'm on my way and I’ll tell you when I get there, I swear. Please don't do anything, for both our sakes.I know him, he's–”

“You know him?!”

“Yes, he’s–”

“How do you know him?!”

“Kalis. Listen to me.” Her voice turned deathly serious. “He's got ties everywhere. Hell, he does jobs for the police sometimes, they won't protect you if you get in trouble. He might try to kill you, and even if he doesn't and you get him arrested, now you have a target on your back from both the mob AND the corrupt police. If you try to arrest him, you're going to die. Please just leave him alone. Please."

She grit her teeth. “So that means he doesn't have any… official paperwork to prove he has authority over the super?”

“I– uh… probably not? They don't work within the law, that's why you need to let him go.”

Well then…

That’s all she needed to hear.

“I’m arresting him.”

“No! No, Khalis, I'm on my way, I'll-I’ll be two minutes, just wait–”

She slammed her phone down and turned back around to Stan, only then realizing that the poor boy probably heard everything she just said–

Nope, he was off in his own little world again.

“Stan?...”

No response.

She waved her hand in front of his face. “Stan!”

He startled back to himself, terrified, scrambling to get away from her just like the first time she'd walked up to him.

She didn't have time for this.

“Stan, honey, I'm going to arrest the man who hurt you alright? He won't hurt you anymore. I have to leave now, but one of my friends will be here very soon. She'll help you out, alright? Everything will be alright. Just please stay here. Hopefully I'll see you soon.”

Officer Brooks closed the door of the truck before she could catch a reaction, hoping that ditching Stan to be found by Officer Galleta was the best choice here.

It had to be, it was the only choice.

She steeled herself, resting her hand on her gun once more, and walked back over through the oppressive black night and into the spotlighting brights of her police car. 

To face down the bounty hunter.

“Mr. Cansano, you're–...” 

Then all of her built-up courage suddenly burst. What the hell was–...

She gaped.

Then scoffed.

Really?

“Are–… are you… smoking a blunt right now?”

The bounty hunter’s hand withdrew from his mouth, followed by a puff of dark white smoke. His gaze never once broke from the bright dot of red-yellow ash that oh-so-subtly lit his face. “Yup.”

She just stared at him for a moment. Then shook her head out. Whatever.

“Mr. Cansano, you're under arrest for suspected kidnapping of a super and illegal bounty hunting.” He didn’t so much as blink. “You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you.” Crickets chirped somewhere in the forest sidelining them. “Do you understand these rights as I’ve spoken them to you?”

He didn’t move in the slightest through her whole spiel. He almost seemed to have paused time around him, actually, a frozen snapshot.

A pause as Kalis stood ready to arrest a few feet away, yet unable to move closer as the air turned sticky with his low chuckle.

A pause because, only then, did Kalis realize that when she last left the man, she'd left him in handcuffs.

The bounty hunter shoved the burning tip of the blunt into the metal siding of her cruiser, instantly extinguishing the bright ember. “You talked to your boss?”

She clutched her gun. “I've been made aware of the situation.”

“Brave one, you are.”

He pushed up out of his lean. She whipped out her gun and aimed it squarely at his chest. “Freeze.”

He stopped, staring at her gun hand, eyes narrowed, hands shooting up to show he wasn’t a threat.

Yeah right.

Police sirens in the distance. Couldn’t be anyone but Frida.

“Put your hands on the car. Slowly.”

He looked her up and down. It was funny, his eyes almost looked red, with the way the headlights shined off his eyes.

“Hands on the car.”

The hunter almost seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he laughed, pulled his bandana up over his face, and took a step forward. 

Her vision tunneled, heart pounding in her ears. All she had to do was pull the trigger.

“Shame,” he drawled. Now he had… a string? A metal string, the type used to cut clay. Held taut between his hands. “I’ll try not to make this hurt, youu seem lie one of the good ones.”

Kalis’s gun hand shook. She should shoot him. She’d never shot anyone before. Shoot him. Shoot him. In the chest, in the leg, somewhere, shoot him, shoot him, you’re going to die shoot him shoot him do it fucking SHOOT HIM–

Her finger squeezed the trigger as he lunged forward, a flash of light, everything bright white and hot and blinding as a loud CRACK split through her eardrums, her very skull. Her gun arm knocked to the side, the gun flew from her hands. Her only chance at defending herself disappeared somewhere into the inky black night.

Suddenly she was staring right into his dark brown eyes that seemed to gleam red. His hands slammed just short on either side of her neck, the wire held gingerly between them pressing into the hard muscle of her larynx.

Just the two of them. 

The crickets, the trees.

The stars, shining above so sweetly.

Her last witnesses.

She was going to die here.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered, a low grumble that reverberated her entire soul. She couldn’t look away from those blood-red eyes. Would her blood be added to that as well?

A deafening screech of tires.

His brow furrowed, gaze stuttering elsewhere. A new set of headlights spotlighted them like startled deer, two omens of death and justice heading straight for them, night turned into a shining white day. 

 Brighter, brighter.

“Holy shit,” the bounty hunter yelled. Low engine revs turned into deafening roars that wholly swallowed any screams that ripped from Kalis’ or Declan’s throats, right before a hand yanked off her feet, just barely heaved over the hood of the car and tumbling jarringonto the ground next to the man who had apparently saved them both as a giant mass of immoveable flashing red and blue and black and white metal screeched past them as it attempted to grind to a stuttering halt before flying into the ditch that sidelined the highway.

Kalis slammed into the ground.

The world spun around her.

Frida.

Frida.

Ow, FUCK–

What’s–

It was Frida!

She was saved!

Or wait, was Frida trying to kill her now?

Why had the bounty hunter saved her, were they on the same side now?

What was happening?!

The door of the cop car flew open before the car even fully screeched to a halt, and there she stood in all of her gorgeous, life-saving, terrified and anger-filled glory, pointing her gun over the top of her cop car right at the man in the cowboy hat sprawled dazed on the ground next to her.

“DECLAN CANSANO, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

* * * * * * * *

Next (when posted)

Also linking this rq for anyone who didn't see bc I think I'm hilarious

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @lumpofsand

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees | @whumpwhittler | @thelazywitchphotographer

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[macgyvermedical]

Drug Orders and Doses

@whumpsmith

Cool, so I think the first thing to know is how medication is ordered.

Generally speaking, it will be ordered in 5 parts, known as the "5 Rights" of medication administration:

#1 What patient is getting the medication

#2 What medication is to be given

#3 How much medication is to be given

#4 What time it is to be given (or how often)

#5 What route it is to be given

So an order might be "Give John Smith (5/13/1995) lorazepam 0.5mg IV once prior to MRI"

In this example, John Smith is the patient and 5/13/1995 is his birthday to differentiate him from all the other John Smiths. "Lorazepam" is the drug's generic name, "0.5mg" is the amount of the drug. "IV" is the route, and "once prior to MRI" is the time.

Drugs have generic and brand names. For example, acetaminophen is a generic name. Many companies make acetaminophen, and each has their own brand name for the drug. Probably the most well-known brand name for acetaminophen is Tylenol, but there are others, like Calpol and Panadol. For most people, it doesn't matter which brand of a particular drug is used, just that the active ingredient (the generic name) is the same. For some people it matters because the non-active ingredients may be different between brands, and they may be allergic to a non-active ingredient that is in one brand, but not another.

In a hospital setting, we're going to use the generic name, because the brand of the drug that is cheapest to the hospital pharmacy varies contract to contract, and there are a lot of drug shortages these days. That's why if you're in the hospital you might get an oval green pill one day and a round white one the next day. They're the same drug, just different brands.

The dose is given in milligrams, usually abbreviated "mg". Milligrams are a measure of weight. Cubic centimeter (cc), on the other hand is a measure of volume. At some point we switched from volume based to weight based measures because we had a lot of different concentrations and using volumes for everything made mistakes really common. If you're using weights, it doesn't matter if the concentration you have is 1mg/mL or 10mg/mL for a given drug, you can do the math and come up with a volume that is right instead of just hoping you picked the one the doctor was thinking about when they wrote the order.

There are many routes a drug can take into the body. There is oral (a pill or liquid), IV (injection in a vein), IM (injection in a muscle), SQ (injection into fat), rectal/PR (a suppository, gel, or liquid inserted into the rectum), SL (under the tongue), TD (a paste or patch that sends medication through the skin) and many more.

Times can be once, once every x hours, once every x hours as needed (PRN), once under a particular circumstance, daily, or pretty much any other interval you can think of. "Stat" is a term meaning "right now".

Here's a list of common medications and their dosages:

CODE DRUGS:

Epinephrine 1mg IV for cardiac arrest every 3-5 minutes, 0.3mg for anaphylaxis

Amiodarone 150-300mg IV over 10 minutes for cardiac arrest

Lidocaine 75mg for cardiac arrest initially, if that doesn't work then 37.5 10 mins later

Adenosine 6mg given very quickly for PSVT, if that doesn't work, give 12mg

Atropine 1mg every 3-5 minutes for low heart rate until heart rate is normal

OTHER DRUGS:

Albuterol 2.5mg in nebulizer for brochospasm/asthma attack

Metoprolol 5mg IV every 5 minutes up to 15mg for severe high blood pressure

Furosemide 20-80mg IV for fluid on lungs

D50 25g IV for low blood sugar

Diphenhydramine 12.5-50mg IV for allergic reaction

Morphine 2-10mg IV or IM for pain

Fentanyl 50-200mcg for sedation

Mannitol 20-150g for increased pressure inside the skull

Nitroglycerin 0.3-0.6mg every 5 minutes up to 3 times for chest pain (angina)

Naloxone 8mg nasal spray every 2-3 minutes for opioid overdose

Flumazenil 0.2mg IV for benzodiazepine poisoning, if that doesn't work give 0.3mg, if that doesn't work, give 0.5

Diazepam 15mg rectal gel for seizures that don't stop

Phenobarbital 1-1.5g IV for seizures that don't stop

Etomidate 22mg IV for anesthesia (for things like intubating someone)

Midazolam 5mg IV for sedation prior to surgery

Olanzepine 5-10mg IV for agitation (emergency sedation)

Haloperidol 0.5-10mg oral or IM for agitation (emergency sedation)

[busterblackcherry]

I love watching sabbat live. They were so young and happy. And did not know that it was ABOUT TO GO DOWN

Next year April 21st marks the 36th anniversary of imai's arrest for possession of lsd. Congratulation🥳🥳

[frogaroundandfindout]

Bruce you make me so ill (Batman #416)

[trans-axolotl]

haven't done a "small joys of the week" post in a while so. will do that today.

really good turnout and a lot of people mobilizing at Palestinian liberation protests in the city i was in this week

my wheelchair shipped! has not arrived yet but i have the tracking number

flowers growing in the sidewalk--crocuses are coming up.

got to see jellyfish at the aquarium this week and found out that wheelchair users get in free and that the aquarium was really accessible! also saw so many sea anemones

brother got me really good french toast for breakfast yesterday

read a really cool zine about disability and sex work

was able to help a trans teen get access to free Narcan!

saw one of my best friends who i get to see like two or three times a year

[who-is-page]

Life is hard! Consider buying my stuff!

My life isn't quite falling apart, but things have gotten really tricky lately. One housemate (and their super destructive, permanent houseguest) is refusing to pay their share of rent or utilities for the next three months, and another is refusing to pay their full share of rent for that same amount of time and is making us cover around $75 every month, and I'm having to double-up my hours at work while still being a full-time student (and also one of my professors, who we're 99% sure is using ChatGPT to generate her citations because none of them exist and we pointed this out, hates my guts and has been grading me really harshly and forcing me to go full-sail on every assignment to ridiculous degrees in order to pass this required class).

My spouse is working on getting full-time at their job, but it looks like they won't be able to until December, and we also have no idea how much rent is going to increase this year-- my guess is it's going to go up another $500, same as last year, to a total of $3,000, so things are gonna get really fucking bumpy until around January, probably.

So basically, if you like the work I've done, consider throwing me a tip on Ko-Fi or buying my stuff on Itch.io:

(Also I promise we have more stuff lined up that we want to polish and publish, life has just been super-duper fucking busy! There is so much more going on right now than what I've mentioned here, especially in terms of surprise medical bills and other horrible surprises. And we haven't forgotten about Inky Paws issue 2, either, which we're still hoping to have done by December and which will STILL always be entirely 100% free to download, no matter what our living or money situation looks like. That will never ever change, so please don't worry!)

[afiendishthingy]

Carlos is resuscitated, given Narcan.

9-1-1 Lone Star: 4x04 “Abandoned”

[howdidthisevenhappenanyway]

*taps microphone* so i’d just like to talk about all the little kids in coruscant who would absolutely be out of their mind with love and awe for the corrie guard, and their fire engine red painted armour

these kids

these kids would wait at their windows to watch them drive past their window on a scheduled patrol. they’d be so thrilled to see them in the market. or when Fox is standing next to Palpatine in the press in his extra red paint

their parent will be like ‘want to talk to them?’ and the kids will get all shy.

they might even draw pictures of them to give to them

because no matter what the adults think, abiut flesh droids or military police being given more and more responsibility (that theybwould see as power) as the war went on, but little kids know what’s up. they know how cool garbage men are, and fire men (with the shiny red paint), and other civil servants that adults don’t think are awesome but kids know

and you know, you just know that Sergeant Hound, with his cute mastiff and awesome bucket paint would be the absolute pinnacle of coolness to an eight year old coruscanti child

[crimeronan]

i'm super tired right now so as i mainlined all the tags on that childhood horror poll at once i found myself going "damn. everyone's got every horror subgenre and plotline in the world going on. it's crazy how i'm surrounded by so many traumatized friends when my own childhood was so completely normal"

and then i was like

hey. ktikat.

What.

[thottietohottie]

I think the most fascinating thing about the immigration conversation is that no one on this panel recognizes that most people who immigrate to America don’t gain citizenship and because of that they don’t get access to most government services. Like they can’t functionally take anything away from citizens. It is also interesting how media has been sensationalizing immigration issue. Like yes there have been people that have committed violent crimes that are immigrants and there are international crime organizations, but that’s just the nature of living in a county like America? It’s not to pacify it but it’s a certain type of focus that makes it seem like it’s something new and heinous because of new immigrants like no boob, history constantly repeats itself for several reasons, but it’s not because of having open immigration. It’s just so annoying to see people being demeaned and criminalized for immigrating especially from the children of boomer era immigrants.

[whumble-beeee]

WOOP WOOP THAT'S THE SOUND OF DA POLICE

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 15

Content: kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, recreational drug use, OD references, captivity references, honestly this is probably the closest thing to fluff you'll get from me: the funny

(AN: just a mini-chapter this week before we get back into things!)

* * * * A Brief Interlude * * * *

It had been a pretty easy drive so far.

Stan seemed more than content to just sit in his seat with his arms bound behind his back, completely relaxed except for the brief moments when his eyes would fly open and he would lurch up stock straight in his seat. Then just settle back and close his eyes right back up. Made Declan jump every time. Though he was really just happy that he didn’t have to blindfold the kid, excepting the intermittent night terrors, or whatever those were.

He knew he really should put the kid in the trunk or something, at least the back seat, but he was slightly worried he’d OD Stan, considering the way he was acting, the blank staring the complete lack of fight. Not to mention Declan’d kinda forgotten to account for his tiny size with the dosage. He was like, what, half Declan's size? More? Better to keep an eye on him.

It was pretty funny though, how high he was. And it’d be fine. No one would see them. It was dark, and Declan was taking the backroad highway that was usually deserted at night anyway. 

That being said, Stanny hadn’t said a word since they started driving… almost an hour ago now? The pill Declan’d taken earlier was really starting to hit him, too, lightly smudging the dark trees as they went sailing by, muting the rumble of the engine, a warm buzz enveloping his body as they sat in an easy silence aided by the light tunes of classic rock. Darkness washed over them like calm waves on a beach, only broken by the lime-green illuminations from the buttons on the dashboard and the odd car blasting them with their brights as it screamed down the opposite side of the highway. That was usually around when Stan would lurch up, actually.

“Hey, Uh… Declan. Deeby, DB, Deebers, Eeby Deeby, uh... Darth… Bucky…” Stan mumbled, eyes fluttering open.

Declan snorted at Stan’s ramblings, even if it did interrupt his favorite part of ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’. He turned the speaker down to a dull whisper.

“What, that my new nickname?” he bantered lazily. “I’ve definitely heard better.”

“Y’know, you’d be like,” Stan pitched his head back until it lightly thumped on the headrest, glassy eyes fixed firmly on the cloth ceiling. “Like, really hot, super hot, y’know? If you weren’t evil. Like really hot. The-the bandana, and the cowboy hat, and the tall and that accent and the whole… cyberpunk cowboy shit?... that’s fuckin’... that’s hot, man… not to me though but like, ahh... 'M not blind…��

Holy shit, what? God, he loved drugged people. 

“Y’know, some people would say that the evil makes me hotter,” Declan pointed out, humoring the captive than anything else. Besides, he wasn’t wrong. That was one of the tactics he used to capture, sometimes. Charms. The mask, the hat, the whole rugged cowboy look. It often got people excited, lulled them into a sense of safety and wanting. Very useful skill, being ‘hot’.

“Well… yeah,” Stan conceded. “But not me. Because you’re evil. Actually evil, a real actual villain who does villain things... Also not really my… my type. My fiancé though? D’loooove you‘f you weren’t evil. And if you didn’t kidnap me. He'd punch you in the face. S’mine though, hands off.”

Declan snorted. “Yeah, nah, don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to hit that. I think he’d be more angry with me anyway. Or scared, I guess. I certainly wouldn’t wanna meet me again.”

Stan lifted his head up. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You uh… you-you… met? How’d you know Marcus?”

“You told me about him. He’s your boyfriend,” Declan led on. It was kinda fun, this game of almost revealing information to him.

“F-fffiancé!”

“Ah, right. Fiancé. My bad.”

“T’ssssss uh…” He laid his head back again and closed his eyes.  “It’s fine…” 

And he was gone again. Settled back into the seat, like he’d just fallen asleep on a long late-night road trip.

Except for the blood running down his shirt and temples and the excessive bruises and red angry cuts that covered his body, his arms, his face, his neck. Ugh, all he could think now was that he probably should have cleaned Stan up a bit before sticking him in the front seat of his truck. 

Not to mention the collar. That's what really worried him. It was discernable from a mile away, and everyone knew what it was: A super detainment device. He hated that collar. It was so demeaning, and for what? Why a collar? There were power-dampening cuffs, he knew they existed.

It was all just for show, some ill-disguised power fantasy. Parade around the supers, look, they’re not dangerous anymore, they’re collared. They can’t hurt the regular people! You’re safe from the freaks! Police definitely liked it, power-tripping bastards. And he knew Vaughn definitely loved the collars.

And Lana.

Ew.

Not thinking about them right now. The engine of car roared over the music. He let up off the gas just a smidge. Declan had better things to do while high, anyway. Like vibe. Which was the complete opposite of those two. He’d much rather listen to ‘Hotel California’.

He turned the radio back up and let the music envelop him.

And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast Last thing I remember, I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before "Relax, " said the night man, "We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like–”

Piercing sirens suddenly hammered his ear-drums, wrecking through his easy concentration. He nearly swerved off the damn road. Bright reds and blues bathed the interior of the car in eerie, dangerous rave-like flashes of light. Stan’s eyes startled open with a small gasp. 

Lightning shocked through Declan’s body.

The police.

God dammit, why? Was he speeding? Was Stan more visible than he thought?!

Declan slammed his hands against the steering wheel with an angry shout, and this time Stan squeaked and cowered into himself. 

God, and now he had to get out his ‘fuck da police’ playlist, the vibes were completely different now!

This is what he got for breaking his damn rules!

Shit.

* * * * * * * *

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