#Elevator Kit Material

[tradebirddigital]

BFL LIFTS – Leading Manufacturer & Supplier of Elevator Kit Material in India

BFL LIFS is a Leading Manufacturer and Supplier of Elevator Kit Material in India. These comprehensive solutions provide a pre-engineered package containing every essential component necessary for your elevator project, from the passenger compartment and doors to the vertical shaft and control systems. Buy Goods Lifts Kit Material at Best Price. For More Details Contact Us!

Visit: https://www.bfllifts.com/product/kit-solution/17 E-mail id: bfllifts@gmail.com Location: Plot No 505 Road No 13, near Sharp Engineers, Kathwada GIDC, Odhav Industrial Estate, Odhav, Kathwada, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 382430

[lightasthesun]

Comprehensive Lexicon Guide for First-Time SW Fic Readers:

Flimsi/Flimsiplast = Paper

Flimsiwork/Datawork = Paperwork

Stylus = Pen

Datapad = Tablet

Comlink/Comm = Communication Device/Phone

Binders = Handcuffs

Chronometer = Clock

Spectacles = Eyeglasses

Chrono = Watch

Conservator = Refrigerator

Caf = Coffee

Nerfburger = Hamburger

Blue milk = Milk (literally blue)

Hubba chips = French Fries

Sweet roll = Doughnut

Flatcakes = Pancakes

Tabac = Tobacco

HoloNet = World Wide Web

Holovision/HoloTV = Television

Holodrama/Holovids = Movie/Videos

Holocamera/Holocam = Camera

Holomap = three-dimensional map

Holojournal = Newspaper

Holocube = Picture frame

Holotable = Projector

Holoscanner = X-ray machine

Holojournalist = Reporter

Flatholo/Holograph = Photograph

Sonic Damper = Active Noise Cancellation

Refresher/Fresher= Bathroom

Sonic Bath = Bath

Sanisteam/Sonic shower = Waterless Shower

Hydrospanner = Wrench

Hydro Flask = Water Bottle

Power Cell/Energy Cell = Batteries

Authorization Chip = Decryption key

Datatape = Disk

Datastick = Flash drive

(Personal) Com Code = Phone number

Datachip = SD Card

Synthflesh = Synthetic skin

Glowrod = Flashlight

Sparkstick = Match

Slugthrower = Gun

Slug = Bullet

Vibroblade = a blade that can vibrate at high frequencies, increasing its cutting power and penetrating ability (tactical knife)

Rangefinder = Rifle scope

Turbolaser = Cannon

Ion pike/Vibropike = Spear

Electro Staff = Stun baton

Blaster = Pistol/Rifle

Stun Blaster = similar to a Taser

Landspeeder/Airspeeder/Speeder = Car

Turbolift = Elevator

Slideramp = Escalator

Starfighter = Fighter jet

Rotorcraft = Helicopter

Hoverpack/Jetpack= Jet pack

Speeder Bike = Motorcycle

Skylane = Traffic lane

Railspeeder/Hovertrain = Train

Power Chair/Hoverchair= Wheelchair

Windscreen = Windshield

Podracing = Car racing

Dejarik = Chess

Sabacc = Poker and Blackjack combined

Galactic Rebels = Combat simulator

B'shingh = Dungeons and dragons

Jizz = Jazz music

Wailer = Singer (ie. Jizz Wailer)

Cantina = Bar or Pup

Para Sailing = Paragliding

Aurebesh = Alphabet

Credits = Money

Sleeping Pallet = Bedroll

Naming Day = Birthday

Youngling = Child

Galactic Basic Standard/ Basic = English

Medkit/Medpac = First aid kit

Hypo = Syringe

Medic/Healer = Doctor

Medcenter = Hospital

Bactapatch = Bandaid

Nanoweave = Fabric

Transparisteel = Glass

Plastifoam = Packing material

Durasteel = Steel

Plasteel = Plastic

Duracrete = Concrete

Slicer = Hacker (slicing = hacking)

Identikit = Passport

Minder = Therapist

Synthleather = Vinyl

Viewport = Window

Cooling Unit = Air-conditioning

Honeydarter = Bee

Slythmonger = Drugdealer

Spice = Drugs

Stimpill = Caffeine pill

Power Socket = Plug

Cutters = Scissors

Cycle = Day

Standard Cycle = 24h

Standard Week = 5 days

Standard Month = 35 standard days

Standard Year = approx. ten months

Tenday = literally ten days

Cigarras/Smokes = Cigarettes

Click = Kilometer or 'a moment'

Parsec = a unit of distance

Tweezers/Clanker/tin head/tinnie = Droid

Separatist = Seppie

Promise Ring = Wedding Ring

Body Glove = Jumpsuit

Slicksuit = Wet suit

Civvies = Civilian clothing

Carbonite = a metal alloy used to freeze a person in a state of hibernation

Hyperdrive = device that allows a starship to travel faster than lightspeed

Moisture vaporator = device that can extract water from the air, commonly used on tatooine

Glareshades = Sunglasses

Gasser = Gas Oven

Repulsorlift = technology that can create an anti-gravity field and is used for levitating heavy objects

Heating unit = Heater

Utility Droid = Roomba

Sunbonnet = a Clone trooper helmet

Bad Batcher = a defective Clone Trooper

Banthabrain = birdbrain/ a stupid person

Bantha fodder = waste of space/nonsense

Blast! = word of exclamation

Blasted! = s.o in anger or annoyance

Blaster-brained = dimwitted

Blaster fodder = cannon fodder

Blast off = Piss off

Brainless = Stupid

Bug/Bugger = used to refer to Geonosians

Forceforsaken = godforsaken

Full of Poodoo = full of shit

Poodoo = Shit

Kriff = Fuck

Jedi scum = derogatory term for jedi

Kark = derogatory expletive

Larty = LAAT/i gunship

Laserbrain = insult

Meat droid = derogatory term for Clone Troopers

Redrobes = Palpatines guard

Rookie/Shinie = newly recruited Trooper

Scum = insult to refer to bounty hunters/rebels

Sharpie = Sharp-witted

Sithspawn/Sithspit/Hellspawn! = expletive

Sleemo = Slimeball

Son of a bantha = insult

Wizard! = Cool

Spaced = dead

Hutt-spawn = Bastard

Karabast = exclamation of dismay

Stang = Crap

Buckethead/Bucketbrain = derogatory term for Stormtroopers

Bucket = Helmet

Nat-born = Natural Born

Roger Roger = affirmative/copy that

Droid poppers = EMP grenade

Sitrep = short for situation report

Backwater Planet = any planet that isn't part of the core system

Holocron = device that can project a three-dimensional image of a person/object and is used for communication or entertainment.

Kessel Run = a risky Operation. Commonly used as a metaphor in impossible situations.

Thermal Detonator= device that can create a powerful explosion like a grenade or bomb

Ray Shield/Energy Shield = creates a (protective) barrier

Rebreather = device that allows a person to breathe underwater or in toxic environments

Phrases:

Wild goose chase = wild bantha chase

That's bantha shit = that's bullshit

As slippery as a greased Dug = untrustworthy

Credit for your thoughts = penny for your thoughts

Cut the poodoo = cut the crap

to get your gills in a twist = get upset about something

Holy mother of meteors = holy mother of god

Oh my skies/ Oh my stars = exclamation of surprise

Stars' end! = exclamation of disbelief

What in the blue blazes = exclamation

When Geonosis freezes over/When it snows on tatooine = extremely unlikely

Who pissed in your power supply = who pissed you off

Blast it = damn it

By the maker = exclamation of surprise

Great karking Dragon = expression of disbelief

Lothcat got your tongue = equivalent of 'cat got your tongue?'

Sod it = expression of frustration

[solanastark]

scalpel and steel

summary: bucky barnes never thought dating a med student would be both a blessing and a secret weapon. between her medical textbooks and battlefield lessons, she’s the perfect partner in both life and war.

pairing: bucky barnes x fem med student!reader!

warnings/tags: mentions of blood and sutures, few medical terms, fluff, just fluff

word count: 1.7k

A/N: hii this is my first piece on here and it means a lot to me since i will be applying for med school soon :)) hopefully y'all enjoy because im planning on writing more since im on summer break. anywayss lots of loveee

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It’s honestly the perfect setup. Bucky likes to joke about it—having a med student for a girlfriend is like dating a walking, talking survival guide.

The textbook in front of you was dense, the diagrams a blur of lines and labels: arterial bleeds, venous bleeds, tension pneumothorax. You skimmed a section for the third time, highlighter poised over “Signs of hemorrhagic shock”, and tried to ignore the ache behind your eyes.

Control the bleeding. Maintain airway. Prevent hypothermia. In trauma, the golden hour is everything.

Your mind drifted, unbidden, to what that actually looked like in the real world—bodies in the dirt, blood dark against the ground, hands pressing into wounds that gushed and pulsed with life leaving. The textbook was clinical. The reality was chaos.

You sighed, flipping the page to a chart on wound packing materials, and thought absently, God, how do they manage in the field without proper supplies? What do they even use when there’s no gauze? A shirt? A sock? A prayer?

Your pen hovered over the phrase “tourniquet application time limits”, and you caught yourself chewing your lip. You wondered if Bucky ever thought about these things when he went on missions before he met you. If he even had the time.

And just as you leaned back in your chair, eyes heavy with fatigue and the weight of all this knowledge, the door swung open— and there he was.

Battered. Bleeding.

Your heart lurched, and the textbook nearly slid from your lap as you scrambled to your feet.

“Jesus, Bucky!” The words tumbled out, half a breath, half a curse, as you took him in—blood seeping through the torn fabric of his tactical suit, dirt smudged across his cheek, a cut splitting his brow. He looked at you with that crooked, guilty smile, the kind that said I’m fine, don’t worry, even though his body told another story entirely.

“Fuck, what happened?” you asked, voice barely audible, already reaching for the first-aid kit under the counter. You've been with Bucky for months now, tending his scrapes and wounds but as his girlfriend, the worry never goes away.

Bucky gave you a sheepish, almost boyish smile as he sank onto the chair with a grunt. “Little scrape, that's all.” You wondered how he even has the energy to joke around while he's practically bleeding out in your shared apartment.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, voice low and rough, and you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Okay doesn't usually involve this much blood.” You were already moving, hands steady despite the adrenaline that started to hum through your veins. The textbook lay forgotten on the couch, its diagrams of wounds and bandages a far cry from the real thing—his wounds, his blood. It was something you had to get used to. It's what came with dating Bucky, the chaos and the battle wounds.

Good thing you had a knack for saving lives in your own way.

You reached for the cotton and gauze, voice soft but firm as you glanced up at him. “Sit down. Let me see."

Bucky obeyed with a grunt, wincing as he lowered himself onto the chair. You knelt in front of him, fingers already tugging at his gear with practiced efficiency, the details of your reading from earlier whispering in the back of your mind—Apply direct pressure. Elevate the limb. Assess for arterial bleeding.

You met his eyes, a little sharper now, a little more focused.

You sprawled out all the supplies needed. Judging by the amount of blood on his shirt, there's going to be some stitching involved.

"Aren't you going to rip off my shirt?" Bucky laughed dryly, keeping pressure on his right shoulder. "I really shouldn't have introduced you to Greys Anatomy." You retorted.

You tsked, easing his shirt off with practiced care, fingers ghosting over the torn fabric. “You know, for a supersoldier, you sure get cut up a lot.” His eyes studied you as you skillfully donned your gloves and started preparing the lidocaine and antiseptic solution. Prep the area. Inject the local anesthesia. Clamp the suture needed. Easy peasy.

He smirked, eyes dark with something warm as he watched you work. “What can I say? Lucky I’ve got my own personal medic.” He would always find ways to charm you, even when in the worst conditions.

“Bucky,” you murmured as you pressed gauze into the wound on his side, “you ever think about how lucky you are to have a med student for a girlfriend?”

He gave you a weak, lopsided grin. “Every damn day.”

-

But it’s not just post-mission care. Oh no, you're lethal in your own way.

In the quiet of your shared apartment, you sit cross-legged on the couch, textbooks sprawled around, highlighter cap tucked between your teeth. The soft, warm light from the lamp bathes the room in a golden glow, and the only sounds are the scratch of your pen against paper, the occasional flip of a page, and Bucky’s steady breathing from where he’s slouched beside you, his book long forgotten.

Your brow furrows in concentration as you mumble under your breath—terms, facts, mnemonics for remembering arteries and nerve pathways.

“Femoral triangle… inguinal ligament, sartorius, adductor longus,” you recite quietly, tracing the outline of a diagram with your fingertip.

Bucky watches you, eyes half-lidded, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He’s learned to love these quiet moments—the way your voice fills the silence like a soft melody, the way your mind works through the intricate details of the human body like a puzzle you're determined to solve.

But he listens for more than just the sound of your voice. He listens carefully.

Like when you casually murmur, “Sever the radial nerve just above the elbow, and you’ll lose wrist extension,” or when you flip to a page on the popliteal artery and taps it thoughtfully, whispering, “Right here. Sever it, and you’ll collapse like a rag doll.”

And Bucky—he files that information away. Quietly. Intently. Because in his world, where fights don’t always end cleanly and survival depends on what he knows and how fast he acts, your studying isn’t just background noise—it’s a gift. A secret weapon you don't even realize you're giving him.

When your voice gets softer, trailing off as you read about abdominal trauma or emergency airway management, Bucky will murmur, “Keep going, doll. I’m listening.”

It makes you pause mid-sentence, a faint furrow between your brows as you lift your gaze to him. “You’re really listening?” you ask, tilting your head in that way you do when you're half-incredulous, half-amused.

Bucky shifts in his chair, metal fingers drumming lightly against the armrest, his eyes steady on yours. “Yeah,” he says simply. “I am.”

Your lips curve into a slow, crooked smile, almost teasing. “Why? You planning to audit my trauma medicine exam?”

Bucky huffs a soft laugh, but there’s a weight to his gaze now, a softness edged with something darker. He leans forward, forearms braced on his knees, voice quiet, low.

“Because knowing what you know—how to patch someone up, how to stop the bleeding, how to end a fight when you have to…” His eyes meet yours, sharp and steady. “That’s the kinda knowledge that saves lives. My life. Out there, sometimes it’s a choice between walking away and not walking at all—and what you’ve got up here”—he taps his temple—“helps me make that choice a hell of a lot easier.”

You're silent for a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. You were surprised, a little shy, before going back to your notes—never realizing how much of your brilliance he’s soaking up. Then, softly, you say, “Bucky…”—but he cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head.

“Just… keep talking, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile.

He runs a hand through his hair, looking almost shy. His gaze drops to the floor, then back up to you, and he clears his throat. “But thank you,” he murmurs, the words gentle and a little rough around the edges. “For always taking care of me. For... knowing what to do when I don’t.”

You pause, a warmth blooming in your chest. “Bucky…”

But he just shakes his head, a small, earnest smile tugging at his lips. “I mean it. You’ve patched me up more times than I can count. Always know how to put me back together when I come back... broken.” His voice dips lower, softer, as he reaches for your hand and threads his fingers through yours, squeezing gently. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m grateful for you. For this. For us.”

Your heart stutters, and you give his hand a squeeze in return, your smile tender and full of quiet understanding. "I love you. And I love taking care of you." You smiled, taking in his every feature. "Thank you for being so patient and for being so goddamn supportive with all of this." You gesture to the mess that are your text books and hundreds of reading materials laid in front of you.

"Always, sweetheart. I love you more." Bucky kisses the top of your head as you melt into his embrace. And in that small, golden-lit moment, with textbooks scattered around and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it’s just the two of you.

"Now, teach me something new."

-

Ans it's not just Bucky who benefits from your expansive medical knowledge. Sam does too—whether he likes to admit it or not.

It’s late afternoon, and the three of you are holed up in the apartment’s living room—Bucky and Sam strategizing over an upcoming mission, you cross-legged on the floor nearby, surrounded by your books and notes. This slowly became the norm for you ever since you started living with Bucky. Sam would often invite himself in the apartment and proceed to discuss their plans on how to save the world while you'd be in your own little bubble, trying to figure out how not to fail your next OSCE.

Bucky’s flipping through a file, Sam gesturing animatedly, laying out their plan like a man building a house of cards. “We take out the guy on the roof first,” Sam says, “then Barnes here moves in, takes the left flank, and I’ll circle—”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupts, frowning, “if they’ve got a heavy on the left, we’ll get pinned down. It's a heavily armed station.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Then what’s your play, man? We can’t exactly stroll in.”

You glance up briefly from your notes—your pen paused mid-scribble over a page titled ‘Signs of Internal Bleeding’. Without missing a beat, you say, “If you aim for the femoral artery, just below the inguinal ligament, he’ll be down in seconds. Less messy than a gut wound, too.”

The room goes silent.

Bucky blinks at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like of course she knows that.

Sam, on the other hand, freezes mid-gesture, eyes widening slightly as he turns to stare at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

You barely notice—already flipping to the next page in your book, mumbling under your breath, “Oh, and if you’re going for incapacitation without fatality, severing the sciatic nerve’s a good option. Lower back, just above the gluteal fold.”

Sam lets out a low, disbelieving whistle. “Yo, Barnes,” he mutters, half-joking but also not, “I think your girl might be more dangerous than you.”

Bucky just grins, pride flashing in his eyes as he leans back in his chair. “Yeah,” he says, voice warm and a little smug. “I know.”

You glance up again, finally noticing the way Sam’s staring at you, and flash him a sweet, innocent smile before going back to your notes.

Sam shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Y’all are terrifying.”

And Bucky just laughs, the sound warm and proud, because of course his girl knows how to scare Sam Wilson into behaving—and maybe, just maybe, you're the deadliest one in the room.

[aurorawrotethis]

i love you | t

tangerine x f!reader blood, injury, mention of toxic ex, subtle mention of sex, cussing, pain words: 1.8k

At the late hour of two, the only sounds were the jingle of keys and rain pounding against the concrete. You'd be thinking, why is someone coming home at 2 in the morning?

But that was the norm for Tangerine. He had just come back from a 2 day trip, and instead of going back this own house, he ended up at your doorstep. You peeped your head through the door of your bedroom and watched the front door twist open.

Once the door opened and Tangerine walked in, his hair all over the place and damp, his suit untidy and bloodied with wet patches on his shoulder and back, his face exhausted, he dropped his bag onto the floor and shut the door softly. 

Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him, knowing you were safe and not about to be killed. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and walked out the room in your pyjamas. Which consisted of a silk lacy tank top and pants that were of the same material. 

Tangerine walked up to the cabinet, grabbed a glass and filled it up with cold water from the fridge. He downed the water and set the glass on the counter. He leaned against the counter, exhausted, not noticing you yet. 

"Tan?" You whispered as you watched his movements. He jumped slightly and his head snapped to you. 

"Oh did I wake you doll? 'm so sorry" Tangerine apologised as he looked at his girlfriend. You shook your head and walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

"Darlin' I'm covered in sweat and blood" He sighed as he resisted his urges to engulf you in a hug and never let go. 

"Don't care, missed you" You said simply and hugged him tighter. His urges were too strong for his superego, he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight. 

"Missed you more" He mumbled against your hair as he kissed the top of your head. You pulled away from the hug and he looked at you, his hands on your arms, the skin so soft compared to his. 

"You must be tired?" You asked more than said as you held his hands, playing with his rings. He let out a sigh. 

"You have no idea" He mumbled as he watched your gaze go from his face to his hand when you felt something mushy. You looked at his hands and your eyes widened. You fingers had just gone over a huge cut on his hand, a cut where blood was still spurring out. 

"Oh God" You whispered as you looked at both of his hands. Both bruised up, purple, blue and red with blood either dried or wet. He looked at at his hands with you, he hadn't even noticed. 

"Come here" You said, letting one hand go softly and guiding him to the elevated seats on the kitchen counter. You patted the seat, telling him to sit down. He did as told. You put both his hands on the counter to analyse. 

"'s nothin', I barely felt it" Tangerine shrugged trying to calm you, the look of worry on your face worried him, but it also made him feel some type of way. Felt like he was cared for, felt like he was needed. Gave him a sense of belonging. 

"Shh" You said sharply and went over the cuts with your finger, as if your touch would take them away. You winced slightly as you went over a splinter. 

"How the fuck?" You whispered softly and looked up at him, he was looking at you, he shrugged. 

"Don't know, sometimes just happens" He said. You squint your eyes at him slightly and got off you chair. 

"Wait here, I'll be back" You said and disappeared into the guest restroom that was connected to the living room. Tangerine watched you leave. Usually he'd just wash the wounds with water and call it a day, but seeing the look on your face when you saw his wounds made him upset. Made him regret being so careless on the mission. 

He wanted to go back and tell himself to be more careful. Just to make sure he never had to see the look on your face. You came out of the restroom with a first aid kit and sat next to him. You opened the kit on the counter and took out tweezers, cotton buds, alcohol, and a cream. 

"Is g'na hurt a bit yea?" You said and grabbed his hand softly. Cleaning the tweezers before putting it against his skin to take the piece of wood or metal —whatever it was, you couldn't quite guess what it was— out. 

He winced slightly as the sharp part poked his other wound. 

"Sorry" You gasped softly and tried to be careful with him. Touching his hand, treating him as if he was a piece of glass. He had never been treated that way. 

Lemon was his brother and he had obviously seen Tangerine cry but they never talked about it after, and vice versa. A pat on the back was the softest thing that they got from each other, and that alone meant the world to Tangerine. 

But this, the way your soft hand carressed his wounds, the way you winced everytime your finger went over a cut as if you could feel his pain — it made Tangerine's heart warm. It made him feel gooey and mushy on the inside. 

You dabbed a cotton bud in the alcohol and before you dabbed it on his skin, you turned to look at him. Where his gaze that was once on you, quickly shifted to look at his hand. 

"This ones gunna sting a bit" You whispered, his gaze went to your face (again).

"Nothin' I can't handle" He shrugged. You went back his hand and dabbed the cotton bud on his wounds. The wound stung but all he could think about was you. 

How beautiful you looked. You hair that was once probably in a proper firm plait, now a loose one with strays all over. Some strays falling in front of your face. You mouth slightly open, breathing through it because of how much you were concentrating. 

You looked ethereal. 

You are ethereal. 

He admired the way you cared, the way your empathy ran through you like it was the main component of your blood. The way you smiled at him, the way you'd laugh at his jokes, the way you'd kiss him, the way your hair would feel when he ran his hand through his hair. 

He was obsessed and he was not afraid to admit it. 

He says he isn't afraid but is he really? 

All his past lovers were nothing but simple fucks. Nothing but a hook up. He had never stayed long enough to feel the way he feels with you. Initially he thought about leaving, but the thought of leaving you, you, of all people. 

Made him want to hang himself for ever thinking of such a thing. 

"Okay now, I just need to put the cream on" You said, more to yourself, but it broke him out of his thoughts. He felt a wave of confidence, a wave of invincibility crashing against his feeling of doubt. 

Now, Tangerine was a brave man, he could wrestle a bear and win if he wanted to. But to admit that he cared for someone as deeply as he cares about you? Now that could make him piss his pants. 

"Y/n" He said softly. It was now, or never. You stopped your actions —opening the tube of cream— and looked at him. 

"Hmm?" You hummed, telling him to continue, a strand of hair coming on front of your face. 

"I... uh" He started but coughed awkwardly. You furrowed your brows but smile nonetheless, urging him to continue. He saw the smile on his face and felt as if it gave him strenghth. 

"I love you" He said, he meant for it to be a bold declaration, but for some reason, it came out as a whisper. Your breath was caught in your throat. You felt as if you could jump in joy and do laps around the house. But you said nothing, letting out the breath that was stuck in your throat. 

You gave him a soft smile, your eyes saying all that needed to be said, and you turned back to his hand to continue. No one had ever said that they loved you. At least not while you were fully clothed. He knew that. 

That's what made your reaction so much better. He thought that you would push him away and never speak to him again, but it was quite the opposite. He didn't feel defeated when the answer he was faced with was silence. 

No, he felt like he was on cloud 9.

He knew about your past. About how your ex boyfriend had used you for your body and would emotionally abuse you for being the way that you are. Kind, caring, loving. 

He would only tell you that he loved you when you were naked and giving him your body — whether you wanted to or not. He only cared about himself. Not only did he use you for his own ego, he also used multiple other people, while dating you, hence, cheating on you. 

Tangerine knew how much it meant to you, to be fully clothed, and feel loved. He also knew that you needed time. So he would give you as long as you needed. He would wait until the world ended if that's how long you needed. 

What's great about it was that you knew. You knew he didn't want to rush you, he didn't mean it in any other way other than pure pragma —love not of lust, but of understanding

"Oh look at what I got the other day" You said excitedly after closing the tube and putting it back into the first aid kit, and picking something out of it. 

"Thomas the Tank Engine band-aids!" You gleamed and showed him the box of band-aids with pride. He let out a soft laugh; it seemed as if he could never escape Thomas. 

"They're very cute, love" He smiled at you and used one of his hands to push the strand of hair behind your ear.

Love. Love. Love.

Your heart warmed at the nickname. He had never called you love before. Doll, darling, beautiful, sweetheart — but never love. It felt right. Felt natural. 

"Thank you" You smiled as you took three band-aids out and peeled the sticker off them and placed them softly atop his wounds. 

"All done" You smiled, softly running your fingers over the band aids. You brought his hands up to your lips and kissed the bain-aids and the scratches one by one. He watched you, eyes full of nothing but adoration, and love. 

You may not have said it, but he knew for a fact: he had never felt so loved. 

fin. a/n: can you guys tell i'm a med student? no? THAT'S BECAUSE I'M NOT. FUCK MODERN MEDICINE!! (i say this as i grab another paracetamol pill) tangerine masterlist

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Tips: Studying at Home

Adjust your learning

The first thing to acknowledge is that an online education demands a different style of learning as opposed to the traditional classroom environment.

You should be aware that you will need to adjust your learning style to ensure you get the most out of any online learning experience by doing things such as:

Fully commit yourself to join in with digital discussions so you are still actively learning and developing key skills such as debating and listening.

Be prepared to try new tech - with new online learning platforms and video calling functions, prepare to become adaptable and open to trying new technologies.

Collaborate with others - whether that’s over instant messenger outside of class/tutoring time, or with online discussions - get involved and you’ll make the most out of your learning experience.

Be self-disciplined - You will need to ensure that you’re ahead with the class work, pre-reading course materials where you can and ensuring excellent time management to prevent missing classes. All of this will help you to get the most out of your online learning.

Clear Distractions

When setting up your home study and/or work space, make sure there is nothing in the background that may distract you or your classmates/co-workers.

That includes putting your phone in a separate room or turning it off completely to avoid taking your attention during your online learning. 

It’s important to note that you may also need to move your work space throughout the day - perhaps you may need to move as sunlight comes through your window to avoid screen glare.

So have a think about this before you are forced to move and re-position halfway through a learning session.

Use headphones and a microphone (where possible)

If you have them, make sure you use headphones and a microphone so you can clearly hear your tutor/classmates, as well as deliver clean and clear audio for easy flow of communication.

Even if you don’t have access to this, most laptops do have a reasonably high-spec audio and microphone set already built into them, however having a specific kit will always elevate your sound and audio quality.

Make sure your camera is stable

Again, to help avoid distractions during your online learning, make sure your laptop or webcam is sturdy and pointing ahead to avoid any strange angles. 

Also, don’t sit too close to your camera either as the audio could muffle if you are sitting close to the microphone on your device. 

Prevent interruptions

We’ve all seen that BBC News video interview - and we know you certainly don’t want to have the same happen to you. 

To avoid this, make sure anyone you live with is aware that you will be doing some online learning from home and to ask them to leave you alone to concentrate.

If you can, close a door and stick a sign on the outside of it, making it clear that you cannot be disturbed.

Pre-prepare resources

If you have work that you want to share with your tutor or other students during a video lesson, make sure you have them ready and waiting on your desktop with clear file names, and are ideally already open and waiting before you start.

This will avoid time-wasting if you need to hunt around your downloads folder and browser tabs. 

Strong Wi-Fi connection

Before joining an online session, make sure your Wi-Fi session is working and up to scratch.

The website; Speed Test will help you to see what sort of internet speeds you’re currently getting, and whether they will be strong enough to support video calls.

There are a few obvious steps too to try and consider to improve your Wi-Fi strength, such as putting your internet box up high on a sideboard, making sure nothing is covering it, and setting up your work space close to where the box is. 

If you do have a poor Wi-Fi connection, you may struggle to host a video call, so it’s worth considering if there’s any other locations you could use for your learning session - perhaps a friend or relative’s home?

Pre-read material

If possible, review any resources and material that you’ll be studying before your online learning session.

This will give you the chance to prepare for any discussions, have questions ready to ask about subject matter that you haven’t quite fully understood, as well as help the new knowledge to be absorbed ever so slightly easier. 

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Playboy || PG10 {3}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader Summary: Pierre proves himself and makes promises. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut WC: 2.2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

Wind whipped through the gaping hole in the back of the Ferrari and you shivered from the cold, curling your knees up to your chest as Pierre drove back to the city. You expected him to take you home but he pulled into a far nicer apartment block and spiralled down the ramp to the underground carpark. 

Slipping out of the car and into the well-lit carpark you saw the full extent of the damage and shook your head at the new paint job that was needed. “I’m sorry,” you murmured as you ran your fingers over the worst chips and dents. 

A pair of hands came to rest on your hips and Pierre rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked at his car. “Don’t worry about it, insurance will cover it.”

“I was apologising to the car,” you said with a smirk but the move only served to split the cut on your cheek and fresh blood welled to the surface as you winced. “Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?”

Pierre laced his fingers with yours and nodded as he led the way to his apartment. The elevator ride was quiet and you felt the tension rising as you idly played with the thick ring on his thumb. Looking away from the jewellery, you realised it was a mistake as you met his eyes and knew the feeling wasn’t one way, but the elevator was not the place to start what you had in mind.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Pierre all but groaned as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Like what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head to the side and peeking up through your lashes.

“Like I’m a playboy who will fuck you on the first date.” There was a sinkhole in the ocean of his irises and it was stealing all the colour from them the longer that he looked at you. He reached out and hit the button for the 12th floor again as if it would magically make the ride go faster. “I’m trying to prove a point and you’re making it hard.”

“Is there a rooftop here?” you asked as you thought of a solution.

“Yeah, for maintenance I think. Why?”

“Take me there first,” you urged and he frowned as he hit the button for the level above his. The elevator opened to a short hallway and you saw the stairs that led to a metal door so you tugged his hand and made your way outside, sticking a brick in the door to keep it from locking you out. “Lay down.”

“You can be quite bossy,” he chuckled but humoured you as he did as he was told, joining you on the cold concrete roof top. “What are we doing?”

“Stargazing,” you said as you turned to him, propping your head up on your hand. “It seems like a reasonable second date.”

“A second date already, hmm,” he smirked as you sat up and leaned over him with a matching smile.

“I think that officially means you aren’t a playboy.” You dipped your head down and he met you halfway, his large hands grabbing your waist to pull you onto his lap as he sat up and kissed you. 

“Very clever,” he murmured against your lips, making you smile more. 

“I’ve been known to have a few good ideas on occasion.”

He chuckled as his hands roamed your body, brushing along the hem of your dress and edging it up. “Any others you can think of?”

“One or two,” you breathed as his fingers slipped beneath the material. “But not here.”

There was a new urgency as you rose on unsteady feet and Pierre’s arm curled around your waist as if the distance to walk at your side was too far for his liking. After three quick presses of the elevator button and no instant result, he growled and you looked at the stairwell before kicking off your heels.

His laugh echoed off the concrete walls and he was quick to make chase as you raced ahead of him down the next floor where his keys were already in his hands and rushing to unlock the door. It crashed open as he turned and pulled you with him, your bodies sealing close together while your lips collided with a deep hunger. 

He blindly kicked the door shut behind and his large hands splayed across your ass before gripping tightly and using his strength to pick you up. A moan escaped you as your legs wrapped around his hips and you felt just how bad he wanted you.

“Wait.” Your eyebrows lifted at the order he gave as he sat you on his kitchen countertop, his chest rising and falling with quick pants.

“Wait?” you echoed in disbelief, the needy sound making him smirk. 

“You’re still hurt,” he reminded softly as he reached under the sink for his first aid kit before nudging your knees apart so he could step into the space. “Let me take care of you first.” He was gentle as he cleaned your cheek, the gauze turning pink with your blood, and he apologised when he opened the antiseptic wipe. “This might sting a bit.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Curiosity filled his eyes as he dabbed the skin dry before putting a little butterfly stitch over the cut. “What happened?” he asked as he cradled your jaw in his hand to keep you from looking away.

“That’s something that would need to wait until at least the third date,” you said with a shake of your head. “I thought you were going to take care of me.”

A cocky smile played at his lips as you challenged him and his hands brushed your dress up over your hips as he dropped to his knees. “Oh, I’ll take care of you, Beautiful.”

The first aid kit was scattered across the kitchen floor where you had knocked it off the bench in the throes of your first orgasm. He had enjoyed taking his time with you laid out, writhing under the talent of his lips, his tongue, his teeth. 

The next victim was your dress, his impatience and strength breaking the zip in the frenzied need to remove all barriers between your bodies. Your hands had tugged his sweater over his head before pulling his shirt open, little white buttons popping off in all directions.

“Jesus,” you moaned as you ran your fingers down his body, feeling every hard ridge of muscle until you reached his jeans. “I knew you were going to be fit but fuck…”

He grinned proudly at the remark and took over removing him of the denim keeping you from reaching what you wanted. The thin pair of boxers did little to hide the length of him begging for freedom from the constricting material but before you could tug them down he was tugging you back into his arms and leading you to his bedroom.

“I’ll lose all my common sense if you touch me, beautiful, and then we will be in trouble,” he admitted as he laid you on his bed, kissing you before pulling back and rifling through his drawers for a condom.

You weren’t sure you were going to be able to feel your legs again anytime soon. The man was obsessed with making sure you were in a constant state of bliss and you were almost relieved when he couldn’t hold back his own release any longer. He had collapsed beside you with a deeply satisfied sigh before disposing of the condom so he could recover with you in his arms, your head on his chest. 

His fingers danced lazily across your hip, tracing invisible letters and shapes on your skin until he noticed the changes in texture, the slight bumps on an otherwise smooth surface. Lifting his head, he pushed the sheet away and spied the scars in the dim light. “What happened?” He had seen the scars that littered your knuckles and palms, victims of the job you did - but these were different. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, pulling the sheet back around your body as you sat up. “I should get going.”

“Stay,” he urged, but you were already leaving the room to find your underwear on the messy kitchen floor. “It was just a question.”

It was a question that there was no easy answer to. It was a question that opened the door for more questions, and they would surely lead to memories that were better off left in the recesses of your mind.

“It was just sex, Pierre,” you said as you felt him following you, “that doesn’t mean I have to bare my soul to you.”

You pulled your dress on but it hung open at the back so you grabbed his shirt and shoved your arms inside before he pulled you back into his arms and his lips pressed to your neck.

“It wasn’t just sex to me.” The quiet admission had your eyes closing and your head tipping back onto his shoulder. “Please, stay.”

“I can’t give you the answers you are after.”

“You already have.” He turned you in his arms and you could see the sadness swimming in the ocean of his eyes. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Men make promises they can’t keep.”

“Not real men,” he said with a little laugh. “You’re probably thinking of those playboys.”

You rose on your toes and brushed your lips softly over his. “I don’t trust people very easily, but I’m trusting you. Please don't make me regret it.”

His smile made your heart skip a beat and when he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead you knew you weren’t going anywhere. You let his shirt fall back to the floor before brushing your dress straps off your shoulder, taking his hand and leading him right back where you started.

“So sex in your car is out of the question,” you giggled as you watched the playback of the dashcam. The man had a camera on the front, at the back and, more crucially, facing the driver so everyone could see exactly who it was that won the race. They would also see the heated kiss you shared after coming to a halt at the lookout. “A shame really, we look pretty good together.”

“I’m adventurous but not that adventurous,” Pierre admitted with an amused shake of his head. “You ready?”

Your finger hovered over the button to post the video, tagging D as well as the other Street Kings. “Long live the King,” you muttered as you hit it, uploading the file almost instantly. “No going back now.” Closing the laptop, you spun around in his gaming chair and looked up at Pierre. “Now what do we do?”

He glanced at his watch and saw it wasn’t even noon. “I know a place where we can kill a few hours.”

“The bedroom?”

He smirked and caged you in his chair, nudging your legs open with his knee. His oversized shirt you wore rode high up your thighs and his eyes lingered on the bare skin before he dragged them up your body to your face. “You don’t need to convince me, but I was thinking about something outside of the apartment.”

Less than an hour later you were pulling up at a racetrack on the outskirts of Nice, half a dozen cars already there.

“Hey Pretty Boy, how’s your girl running?” you greeted Charles as he stepped out of his Pista.

“Very well, thank you.” He looked between you and Pierre, his smile growing as when he saw the possessive arm curl around your waist. “Now you can finally stop calling me that.”

“Why would I do that? Pierre would have seen your mid-teen-crisis too. Plus, I have a better name for him now.”

“This should be good, let’s hear it,” Charles chuckled until you pressed your forefinger to your lips.

“Sorry, it’s not for innocent ears.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled with an idea of where it was heading and shook his head before leading the group inside. “Whose team are you going to race on?”

“What are we racing?” you asked as you walked past a line of Porsches but continued along to a few garages open.

“Not this time,” Pierre teased as he pointed to a smaller track you hadn’t noticed to the side. At the start line, Joris, Ilies and Arthur were already picking up their race suits and you cocked an eyebrow at the mode of racing chosen.

“Karts?”

“I thought you could race anything?” he challenged playfully. “It has an engine and four wheels.”

You cracked your knuckles and accepted the helmet and race suit he grabbed for you. “I suppose I could do with a warm up before the big race.”

“What race?” Charles asked with concern before looking at his friend. “You’re not getting yourself into trouble are you?”

Pierre couldn’t help sending a wink your way before he clapped Charles on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. I’ve got this.”

Click here for chapter four.

[sevasey51]

Hi babe! Can you do an HC of Connor with his wife? Like his overprotective, fiercely loving, hot surgeon husband. With her chronic illnesses and how he would be with her at events, running errands at work, home?

All In

Summary: To the world, Dr. Connor Rhodes is the confident, brilliant, devastatingly handsome trauma surgeon with a calm edge and razor-sharp instincts. To his wife, he’s also the man who memorized her meds down to the hour, knows her tells before a flare hits, and keeps a med kit in his locker, glove box, and bedside drawer. Fiercely protective and unshakably present, Connor doesn’t just love her—he fights for her. Daily. Quietly. Completely.

At Home

• Connor starts his morning before she does—coffee made just the way she likes it, vitals checked before she even swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

• He reads her like a chart—subtle fatigue in her voice? He’s already adjusting the day’s plan. Flushed cheeks? He’s checking her temperature with the back of his hand before she even asks.

• He does weekly inventory checks on their med kits. There’s one in the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and the living room. He updates their digital log every day—even when she insists she feels “fine.”

• On bad flare days, he’ll kneel in front of her on the bathroom floor, brushing her hair back with one hand and drawing up meds with the other.

• The man blow-dries her hair if she’s too weak to stand after a flare. Without her asking.

At Work

• Every nurse, attending, and fellow at Med knows if she texts anything—even “feel off”—Connor’s on his way. Doesn’t matter if he’s charting or pre-op. He goes.

• Keeps a med kit in his locker just for her: fluids, rescue meds, backup meds, antiemetics, and a custom laminated protocol sheet (color-coded, of course).

• Has absolutely asked Will, Ava, and Hannah to check on her casually when he’s stuck in surgery.

• Ava will often say, “Your husband’s about to materialize if you don’t lie down,” when she notices her going pale. She’s never wrong.

• If she’s scheduled to work during a flare-prone part of her cycle? He double checks her unit’s med supply, checks the staff roster, and makes sure someone is watching her back. Quietly. Always.

Running Errands & Events

• Never leaves the house without her emergency bag, even if it’s just a grocery run. He carries it himself.

• At charity galas, he discreetly checks her pulse at the base of her wrist while pretending to brush a stray thread off her dress. No one notices—she notices.

• Watches her water intake from across a crowded room like a hawk. Sends her a text mid-event: “Take a few sips, sweetheart. You’re flushed.”

• Has pulled her out of events under the pretense of needing air just to keep her from crashing in front of a crowd.

• Keeps tabs on exits, stairwells, and elevators at every venue in case he needs to get her out fast.

• Wears his silicone wedding ring always, and proudly introduces her as “my wife, Nurse Rhodes” with the same reverence every time.

And Always…

• Never lets her apologize for her body’s limits. Ever.

• Says “we’re managing it” instead of “you are.”

• Loves her in the softest, strongest ways.

• And when the world makes her feel broken, Connor is the one who reminds her—she is the strongest person he knows.

[theamityelf]

(Mini Classmates AU Masterlist- Mini Makoto AU)

(previous post)

On his way back to his room, Izuru steals a meal cart and a first aid kit from the staff lounge.

"I don't think I've ever seen this part of the school before," Makoto marvels.

"No," Izuru agrees concisely.

"What do they do here? Or, what do you do here?"

Handily, he's asked two different questions, assuming the answers would be the same. Izuru answers the easier second question: "Rarely very much."

He enters his room and sets Makoto down on the bed, just to free his own hands for a moment.

"Is this your room?"

"Yes." He deftly removed each of the wheels from the meal cart. They had a locking mechanism, of course, that he could have engaged if he wanted only to prevent the cart from rolling when he didn't want it to roll. But the cart will be serving as a now-necessary fixture in his room, which means the wheels are entirely unnecessary in their current role. Better to repurpose them. They can be used to make miniature furniture for his new miniature person. Once he's finished with the wheels, he removes all the lower shelves. Some of the materials can be used to make a railing around the top edges, to prevent falling...

"Um, is there...a reason why I'm here?" Makoto asks.

"I didn't want a cat or fish."

"...What?"

"They also offered rabbits, lizards, and birds. None of those interested me, either. Their concern was that my general apathy would make me ill-suited to tasks that require long-term proactivity. But their concerns only matter insofar as they mean I'll be allowed to do what I want without meaningful resistance."

"I don't understand."

"That's alright. You needn't."

"Are...you saying you're not taking me back to my friends?"

Izuru stands back to evaluate the partially-dismantled meal cart. Without its wheels, it comes to about waist-height, roughly as tall as his bed. Good. One corner sits higher than the others, creating a wobble. That shouldn't matter, since Naegi is small enough that his weight can't influence how the cart sits. Eventually, Izuru will fix the wobble, but for now it's a suitable surface to create a pet home.

"As of now, yes," he answers. He picks Makoto up from the bed (His protestations sound like chirps and squeaks.) and sets him down on top of the cart.

Yes, that's a good elevation for Izuru to easily reach him from his bed.

"If you fall from this height, you will most likely shatter your spine," he cautions flatly. "So don't try to escape. I'll build railings and a bed for you, next."

"How long are you planning to keep me here?" Makoto asks.

Izuru considers the question. "When is your birthday?"

"February 5th."

"Ask me again on February 5th."

"B-But that's almost a year away!"

"Don't worry. You won't suffer the fate of the cat, the fish, the rabbits, the lizards, or the birds." He leans forward, his face level with Makoto. His eyes crimson and deceptively guileless. "I keep things alive, when they interest me."

Makoto...wonders whether to take that as a threat.

(next part)

[sacredfixation]

Mobius files a report on the misuse of the metaphor kit he gave Loki

TVA REPORT – INCIDENT #58738:

Distribution and misuse of Dedicated Metaphor Kit, a Post-Incident Analysis

Filed by: Agent Mobius M. Mobius

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Laufeyson, Loki

Incident Summary:

Following a series of disruptions, including but not limited to the unauthorized confiscation of my lunch (henceforth referred to as The Salad Incident), a decision was made to provide Loki with a “Metaphor Kit.” The kit was intended as a pedagogical tool, designed to aid the Variant in understanding abstract concepts without resorting to the destruction of personal property. Items included:

• One (1) foam apple (temptation)

• One (1) rubber frog (chaotic leaps into action)

• One (1) small sand timer (time management and consequences)

• One (1) rubber chicken (disruption and disorder)

The kit was presented to the Variant under strict guidelines for appropriate use, which were immediately ignored.

Immediate Outcome:

• Loki expressed initial amusement, followed by sustained misuse of the provided materials.

• The foam apple became a recurring prop during mission debriefs, often accompanied by sarcastic monologues.

• The sand timer was repeatedly flipped during tense moments, exacerbating existing tensions in high-pressure situations.

• The rubber chicken was deployed in multiple inappropriate contexts, including as a distraction during a classified briefing.

• The rubber frog was used symbolically to mock my efforts at maintaining order, culminating in an unauthorized “leap” onto my desk during work hours.

Impact on Agent Mobius:

• Emotional Toll: Elevated stress levels resulting from constant ridicule and prop-related disruptions.

• Workplace Disruption: Significant time lost attempting to refocus Loki after metaphor kit-related antics.

• Personal Well-being: Persistent headaches reported, likely caused by repeated interactions with the rubber chicken.

Recommendations:

1. Discontinue the use of metaphor kits with Loki

2. Institute a stricter no-prop policy during debriefings.

3. Consider mandatory “Respecting Personal Space and Property” workshops for Loki.

4. Implement mandatory approval process for new teaching methods

Any future attempts to introduce non-standard educational tools or methods to Loki should require pre-approval from senior TVA staff, preferably after thorough risk assessment.

5. Establish designated metaphor-free zones

Common areas such as the cafeteria, briefing rooms, and hallways should be designated as metaphor-free zones to prevent Loki from staging impromptu ‘lessons.’

6. Introduce a post-incident recovery protocol for affected agents

Several agents expressed confusion and mild existential distress following Loki’s metaphor lessons. Consider introducing a support group or brief counseling sessions for agents exposed to prolonged philosophical ramblings.

7. Avoid future attempts to teach Loki lessons through tangible items, this approach is prone to backfire in unpredictable and highly irritating ways.

Agent Commentary:

I initially believed that providing Loki with a non-consumable, symbolic toolset would curb his tendency to disrupt order. Instead, I inadvertently handed him an arsenal of chaos disguised as learning aids. Loki now considers himself a ‘Master of Metaphors’ and insists on offering unsolicited ‘lessons’ to fellow agents, turning the office into something resembling a chaotic philosophy seminar. In hindsight, expecting Loki to handle anything with seriousness was a lapse in judgment. I regret everything.

Conclusion:

This experiment has proven that attempting to outsmart Loki Laufeyson with symbolic gestures or educational tools is futile. Future containment strategies should prioritize direct action over clever solutions. Attempts at intellectual engagement will inevitably lead to frustration, chaos, and, in my case, severe metaphor-induced migraines.

End of Report

[tradebirddigital]

Elevator (Lift) Full Kit Manufacturer from Ahmedabad, india | BFL Lifts

BFL Liftsis a leading manufacturer of elevator full kits with a high quality range of material at an affordable price in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India. Get the best deals on Passenger Elevator Full Kit from  BFL Lifts Works in Ahmedabad. Explore full details, price list, and contact info to secure best offers on high-quality equipment today! WORKS offer best quality Passenger Lifts Full Kit, Buy from Passenger Lifts Full Kit Manufacturer, Supplier in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India.

BFL Lifts takes pride in being a prominent Elevator (Lift) Full Kit Manufacturer from Ahmedabad, India, offering premium quality solutions tailored to diverse lifting needs.

Why Elevator Kit Material Matters

The success and safety of any lift installation lie heavily in the elevator kit material. A complete elevator kit includes crucial components like the cabin, doors, guide rails, counterweights, hoisting machinery, control panels, and more. These components must meet stringent quality standards to ensure seamless functioning and longevity of the lift system.

At BFL Lifts, we understand that the elevator kit is not just a bundle of parts—it is a symphony of mechanical and electrical components engineered to work together harmoniously. This is why we use high-grade raw materials and follow meticulous quality checks at every stage of production.

BFL Lifts – Trusted Elevator Kit Material Manufacturer

As a trusted Elevator Kit Material Manufacturer, BFL Lifts offers comprehensive kits that are compatible with various types of elevators including:

Passenger Elevators

Goods Lifts

Hospital Elevators

Home Lifts

Hydraulic Elevators

MR and MRL Elevators

With over a decade of manufacturing excellence, we have built a reputation for delivering elevator kits that meet international safety norms, robust performance expectations, and tailored design requirements. Our kits are compatible with all standard lift structures and can be easily customized for specific architectural layouts.

Key Components in Our Elevator Kit Material:

Cabins (M.S. or S.S. finish)

Landing and Car Doors (Manual or Automatic)

Guide Rails and Brackets

Counterweight Assembly

Hoisting Machine (Geared/ Gearless/ Hydraulic)

Control Panel & Wiring

Buffer Springs

Display & Indicators

Push Button Panels

Speed Governors

Limit Switches

Safety Gear & Interlocks

Whether you need a basic configuration or a highly advanced kit for high-rise applications, we’ve got the perfect kit solution for your requirement.

Customized Goods Lifts Kit Material for Heavy-Duty Needs

Goods lifts, also known as freight elevators, are crucial for industries, warehouses, factories, and logistics centers. They are built to carry heavy loads and need extremely durable and precise kit components to ensure smooth and safe transportation of materials.

At BFL Lifts, we specialize in designing Goods Lifts Kit Material that is rugged, efficient, and easy to install. Our kits come with heavy-duty cabins, high-torque machines, reinforced guide rails, and shock-resistant buffers to handle the rigors of industrial use.

Features of Our Goods Lifts Kit Material:

Sturdy construction for handling heavy weights

Reinforced doors with locking safety

Smooth lifting mechanism with minimal vibration

Option of chain-driven or hydraulic lifting

Wide range of weight capacities (500 kg to 5000 kg and above)

Customizable cabin sizes to suit specific load types

If you're looking for a Goods Lifts Kit Material Manufacturer who understands your industrial lifting challenges and delivers reliable solutions, BFL Lifts is your go-to partner.

Why Choose BFL Lifts for Elevator Kit Material?

Choosing BFL Lifts means choosing quality, consistency, and customization. As one of the top elevator kit suppliers in Ahmedabad and across India, we bring unmatched value to every project:

One-Stop Solution: We manufacture and supply complete lift kits — from mechanical hardware to electrical components — so you don’t need to coordinate with multiple vendors.

Precision Engineering: All components are designed and fabricated using modern machinery and CAD-based systems, ensuring perfect fitting and ease of installation.

Customization & Flexibility: From compact home lift kits to heavy-duty freight kits, we offer custom specifications to match your project requirements.

Rigorous Quality Checks: Every kit undergoes strict quality tests at multiple stages to ensure safety, performance, and compliance with IS/EN standards.

Expert Support: Our technical team is available to support you through design consultation, product selection, and post-installation guidance.

Timely Delivery: With a robust supply chain and in-house production capabilities, we ensure timely dispatch of elevator kits to any part of India and even abroad.

Applications of Our Elevator Kits

BFL Lifts’ full elevator kits are suitable for a wide array of applications, including:

Residential Buildings

Commercial Complexes

Shopping Malls

Hospitals

Industrial Plants

Warehouses

Hotels

Educational Institutions

Whether you're an OEM, lift installation company, civil contractor, or building owner, our kits offer the flexibility and quality you need to build a reliable vertical transport system.

Service Areas & Reach

Being based in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, BFL Lifts has strategically expanded its network across India and abroad. We have successfully delivered elevator kit materials to cities like Ahmedabad, Gandhinagar, Vapi, Jodhpur, Udaipur, Jaipur, Sanand, Dholera, Patan, Bharuch, Ankleshwar And Dahod, as well as to clients in Dubai, South Africa, Oman, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh countries.

We ensure proper packaging, labeling, and delivery tracking for all kits to minimize damage during transit and provide complete transparency to our clients.

Sustainability in Manufacturing

As part of our commitment to environmental responsibility, BFL Lifts adopts eco-friendly practices in manufacturing. Our fabrication units optimize material usage, recycle waste, and use energy-efficient systems wherever possible. This not only reduces our environmental footprint but also helps us offer cost-effective solutions to our customers.

Future-Ready Elevator Kit Solutions

With smart buildings and automation on the rise, the Industrial Goods Elevators Manufacturer is heading toward intelligent and connected systems. BFL Lifts is actively working on integrating IoT-enabled components, AI-based diagnostics, and energy-saving innovations into our kit offerings.

As a forward-thinking Elevator Kit Material Manufacturer, we are constantly upgrading our technology and training our workforce to meet the evolving needs of modern infrastructure.

Ready to Source the Best Elevator (Lift) Full Kit in India?

Whether you're planning a new elevator installation or upgrading an existing system, BFL Lifts is your reliable partner for top-quality Elevator Kit Material, Goods Lifts Kit Material, and custom lift solutions.

Let us know your project requirements, and we’ll provide a tailor-made kit that guarantees safety, durability, and smooth performance — all at a competitive price.

Your trusted Elevator Kit Material Manufacturer – BFL Lifts.

Call us at: 8141390303

Email us at: bfllifts@gmail.com

Visit our website: https://www.bfllifts.com/ Location: Plot No 505 Road No 13, near Sharp Engineers, Kathwada GIDC, Odhav Industrial Estate, Odhav, Kathwada, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 382430

[droughtofapathy]

Hi there! I read your review of Cabaret and saw that one of your main complaints was that a lot of Jewish culture was staged/written out. I’m not Jewish and don’t have that baseline understanding of the religion/culture and was wondering if you could elaborate further?

Hi Anon, I'd be glad to elaborate a little more, with the caveat that I'm not Jewish either, but I do know a thing or two about the history of this show. I'm also long-winded, so... buckle in.

I don't believe the production team intentionally went into it and took an eraser to Judaism as they went, but I do believe that being an English team with far less Jewish influence in their culture and society has made them blind to the inherent Judaism of the story beyond the glaringly obvious. As I've said before, this is a revival made by gentiles for gentiles right from the very conceit. In centering the show on this nightmare puppet spectacle of a cabaret, it does a disservice to the real heart and moral of the story's true epicenter: the boardinghouse and Schneider and Schultz and the grounded people around them. The very fact that it's officially been retitled "Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club" (frankly redundant) shows that this production is no longer about the actual book, but about the frivolous hedonism. Schultz's Jewish storyline is an afterthought hastily plopped down into the cabaret setting. Because of this staging, the focus is never away from the now-very goyish cabaret. Cliff, Schneider, Schultz, and even Ernst were very much given the "I don't care much" treatment by this director who wants everyone to ooh and ahh over the exorbitant pre-show gimmicks and whatever the fuck the Emcee and Sally are doing, and to hell with the actual plot.

Everything from the direction to the marketing to the creative tone seems to scream out that no one on this creative team actually understands the message. The nightclub might be the titular setting, but it's a looming figure in the shadows. A seedy little joint in a back alley where everyone's just trying to survive. Vaudeville could be bawdy, certainly, but the staging and choreography here is vulgar and tiresome, and says to me that the creatives also have little to no knowledge of that artform either.

Cabaret is an inherently Jewish musical. The three original creatives (Joe Masteroff, John Kander, and Fred Ebb) were Jewish men who were all alive during WWII and old enough to understand the horrors happening around them and overseas. Director and producer Hal Prince was Jewish. Revival director Sam Mendes is Jewish. Both Joel Grey and Alan Cumming are Jewish and/or gay. Eddie Redmayne is the first major Emcee on Broadway (baring a few late-run replacements, in the other runs, I'm sure) who is neither. Rebecca Fracknell is not Jewish and beyond the fact that I just don't think she's a good director of musical theatre (which is an incredibly hard artform that differs from directing straight plays), she has no inherent understanding or trust of the rich material already in place. She chose instead to create spectacle without actual spectacle, and focus all the time and energy into the Emcee--a character who was never meant to be the protagonist. The charisma and iconic performances of past Emcees have elevated this role in all subsequent productions, yes, but always as a centrally Jewish (and subtextually queer) figure. By having that representation and interpretation, Cabaret remains a centrally Jewish musicals. By stripping this particular Emcee of that, we get a goyish nightmare puppet, not a man. Not a Jewish man hiding or highlighting his Jewishness. We get a re-centered gentile production dead behind the eyes.

Antisemitism in Weimar Germany takes on a featured role in what should be a starring turn. Fracknell clearly sees herself as Sally, and she's made it all about the Sally in a painfully white goyish feminist way (don't get me started on a rant about the "girlbossification" they're trying to make happen), but the VERY CLEAR intent of the material is that we should not want to be Sally. We should not be proud of being this willfully ignorant girl who doesn't care about the rise of fascism all around her, and actively states that it has nothing to do with her. We should be horrified at her complacency and shamed that we might have gone in feeling the same way. And Schneider says it, she says it right there in what's meant to be the scene, that Cliff and Sally can just run away when the going gets tough without a care in the world, but she can't. When a show takes a Jewish story, written by Jewish men, and turns it into a gentile funhouse carnival and refuses to acknowledge its Jewish-centered book characters and actors (notice how Bebe Neuwirth and Steven Skybell were almost entirely excluded from promo materials until late into the Award Season publicity) to instead prop up a white gentile man and a white gentile woman...well, that's just blatant Jewish erasure.

[saltprince]

BTT#1: Details & More

Kicking off a new series of posts called Behind The Translation (BTT), where I'll ramble about what I think makes translations work and what goes into mine. They'll feature more general topics on fan translation (like this first one), but I also plan on including deep dives into translations I've done as supplementary reference for those that are interested in that. I'm aiming to have these posts be interesting for anyone, regardless of if you do translation/know several languages or if you consider yourself more of a viewer!

Without further ado, let's get into what goes into translations (especially song translations) as a whole: details & more.

Whether you know the source language or not, sometimes a translation just doesn't seem to make sense. It's not even necessarily a mistranslation-- something just doesn't seem right, and you can't always figure out why that is. It doesn't hit right, it feels off.

When doing translation, there is a lot to account for. It's not just about taking language 1 and converting it into language 2. Depending on the person and the content, there can be a lot of caveats and details to keep track of, and sometimes you have no choice but to. I'll be listing a number of points to pay attention to when looking for or doing translation. In my experience, missing out (or not making a conscious decision on) any of these points can cause a translation's quality to suffer.

Intent

Before anything else, the intent of the translator is important. How true do you want to stay to the source material? Do you want to do a transliteration or something more akin to localization? Do you care more about the message, or more about literally reflecting the source material? You have to decide this before anything else, otherwise you'll risk fighting yourself down the line. Making this choice keeps things consistent both for you and your readers.

As a side note, especially translation from Japanese can catch a lot of heat from people that much prefer transliterations.

Decide for yourself what kind of content you want to see or what kind of content you want to provide.

Don't go to the fish market for bread, and don't become a bakery when you want to provide fish.

Context

For the sake of consistency, there's another choice to make: how on top do you want to be of references? In the case of the GBF song niche, majority of the songs feature references to the characters' units/kits and lore/story. Songs like Pledge of the Tempest and Cafe de Parinai have a lot of references to the character lore, but also had strong character voices/speech quirks to maintain.

While in some cases you can get by with just translating it straight, it might make your translation less accurate or even plain wrong.

You don't always have to sweat the finer details, but catching on and implementing these details will almost always elevate your work.

Even professionals can and will miss the details from time to time, even issuing changes to reprints if severe enough. This means you're not just doing translation: depending on how far you want to go, you have to do your homework on the broader context of the story being told. For bigger projects, it's entirely valid to keep a glossary of recurring words and themes to reference for consistency-- and this can be helpful even for smaller projects if it saves you the headspace.

Connecting cultures

Related to context, something often overlooked is the sheer amount of cultural references implemented in stories. This goes beyond the context of the story itself or the characters themselves. Cultural references, customs, specific food, religious references, landmarks, the list goes on. Again, this is additional homework you may be doing a lot of depending on what it is you're translating. How you end up localizing or translating this depends entirely on you and the source material. A good example of this is the song Small Fish in a Small Pond, which is loaded with religious references.

It's also important to keep your target audience in mind, if you have one.

In some cases, it might be better to call a supermarket a supermarket instead of opting for what's probably an American or European chain, potentially alienating readers. However, as the world has gotten more intertwined, translation has changed alongside it. Years ago, 7/11 wouldn't be acceptable for translation. Even "konbini" would be translated as a supermarket for accessibility. It's another balancing act.

Language

On the topic of songs, lyrics can get quite poetic. They may (half) rhyme. they'll follow a cadence. Even viewers that don't catch onto the exact meaning of the lyrics may feel that your energy or cadence differs. Straight translations are fine, but allow yourself to play with the rhythm of sections-- this is also true for written content. Even buildups and punchlines in books are laid out in a way that follows a rhythm. Something that shows character, anticipation, energy. Songs like Welcome to the PARADE! and STARDUST CHILDREN greatly benefited from the translation paying more attention to the rhythm, energy, and rhymes of the lyrics-- it retained personality of the original without feeling wordy.

You'd think I won't have to mention this given translation is about bridging languages, but I think it deserves to be highlighted. Translation is a great way to get immersed in language and force your brain to think about how lines work in different languages. What many seem to forget is that this means you have to at least know one of the languages intimately. While it's true you may learn something new for any of the involved languages, you'll want your vocabulary to grow alongside your work. Something phrased beautifully in one language, or cleverly referenced, won't hit if you cannot find the right words for it. Far too many times have I seen translations with the right idea that aren't even trying to be literal, they merely cannot seem to find the right words, causing the translation to fall flat. Again, we learn more about both languages the more we work with the languages in question. It's a work in progress, always. This isn't meant as an insult: it's proof that working with languages is an art, too.

When doing translation, don't forget you're working with more than one language. They deserve equal attention.

I'd highly encourage anyone who's interested in translation to not just find out what it says; find out what it means. A hundred words couldn't be enough to describe some things, and other times a single word can echo on forever.

Translation and you

Translation is fun. (Fan) translation is needed and appreciated. For those interested in offering translations, I'd say go for it. Whether it's just for yourself, or your group of friends, or for a bigger platform. It's a great way to learn and be more involved with media you love. It can be daunting, and you may find yourself stuck sometimes-- but that's part of it. You can make a small difference. Your work doesn't have to be perfect from the start, especially not if you keep things small. Stay humble, and stay openminded.

If you're on the opposite side and rely on translation to get more content to consume: be kind. Decide what kind of translation you look for, and support those that offer it without bringing others down. Translation can be daunting, and the reception of it doubly so. We've already lost so much enthusiasm, lost so many translators to offhand comments and demands. Keep your fandom alive by being supportive.

You can make a small difference.

[robinfrinjs]

Gen 3 Evo

The quickest accelerating FIA single-seater race car – Capable of 0-60mph in 1.82 seconds (0-100kph in 1.86s), 30% faster than a current F1 car.

Faster, stronger, more agile – Performance upgrades providing an estimated 2% performance gain from GEN3, equating to a c.2 secs faster qualifying lap on the Monaco circuit, offering world-class racing on any track.

Leaner and meaner – An aggressive new body kit designed to be stronger, more robust and more aerodynamic, delivering closer wheel-to-wheel racing.

All-wheel drive (AWD) –A first for a Formula E car, available during qualifying duels, race starts, and ATTACK MODE. This feature maximises acceleration and control, elevating the thrill of critical race moments and intensifying driver rivalries. AWD enhances both performance and strategy, providing more exciting racing for drivers and fans alike.

Better grip – Optimised all-weather Hankook iON tyres providing 5-10% more grip, made from 35% recycled and sustainable materials (+9% vs GEN3 spec).

[thetempleofreading]

Portland, Oregon Radon Map - Plus Free Tests (for some).

How to Obtain Free Radon Testing Kit

Some Oregon zip codes don’t have enough test results to assign a risk level; if you live in one of these zip codes, OHA will send you a free test kit so that the data will be included in future radon maps.

How to Reduce Radon Levels In Your Home

Hire a State-certified, radon-qualified contractor—The Oregon Health Authority (OHA) has a list of Oregon companies that have at least one radon specialist on staff. You can also search the National Radon Proficiency Program’s directory or do a search on the National Radon Safety Board’s website.

Install a radon mitigation system—The EPA claims that some radon mitigation systems can reduce the radon in a home up to 99% and that most homes can be fixed for about the same cost as other common household repairs.

Certain fixes can reduce radon levels inside your home, but according to Consumer Reports, most homeowners with high radon levels don’t get it down below 2 pCi/L. At this level, there’s still a slightly elevated risk for lung cancer.

The gas can enter homes through cracks, gaps, windows, drains, and areas around pipes and cables. Here are some ways to reduce your exposure.

Seal cracks: Use caulk, plaster, or other materials along walls, floors, and foundation openings. You can also seal gaps around pipes and cables with expanding foam.

Improve ventilation: Since radon becomes dangerous due to the gas accumulation over time, help ensure it vents out of the home. Install more wall or window vents and make sure all existing vents remain unblocked. A fan sump is also highly effective at drawing radon from the ground into a pipe that leads outside. You should only add ventilation at ground level because upper vents will only draw in gas into the home like a chimney.

Create barriers: Put polyethylene sheets or a vapor retarder on gravel.

[nancyrezendes]

Ceiling Mounted Curtain Tracks :Direct Fabrics

Ceiling Curtain Tracks

Enhance Your Space with Ceiling Curtain Tracks Ceiling curtain tracks are a versatile and stylish choice for any room, providing a seamless way to hang curtains and drapes. Mounted directly to the ceiling, these tracks enable a clean, modern look that can make your space feel larger and more open. Ideal for large windows, sliding doors, or open-plan areas, ceiling tracks allow for smooth and effortless curtain movement, ensuring easy access to natural light and privacy when needed.

These tracks come in various designs, including straight and curved options, accommodating different window shapes and stylistic preferences. Made from high-quality materials, they are designed to support various curtain weights, from lightweight sheers to heavy drapery. Whether you're aiming for a minimalist aesthetic or a more luxurious feel, ceiling curtain tracks provide the functionality and style to elevate your interior décor.

Direct Fabrics has been set up to supply the UK and the world with a superior range of curtain fabrics and made to measure curtains. Ensuring that all products are certified to the necessary British and European flame retardant standards. Ourflame retardant fabrics are manufactured into excellent curtains, blinds and soft furnishings in our factories across the UK. Purchase your contract curtains and soft furnishings from a UK company with a large buying power that can offer the full service from design, manufacture and installation of contract furnishings. The team at Direct Fabrics will ensure that you can get the project completed on time and on budget with made to measure curtains manufactured in as little as 15-20 working days.

The products Direct Fabrics offer to the NHs include hospital cubicle curtain rails, cubicle curtains. The team will work with you to get the very commercial certified flame retardant products for your business.

Direct Fabrics supply businesses from all sectors including; Care, Hospitality and Education. Working with at risk areas within care homes and schools, direct Fabrics understand the risks and ensure that the products are all ideally suited both in design and in performance. buy Direct from a UK business that can deliver quickly and with excellent quality contract furnishings

[dougs-troubled-mind]

(REWRITE) Chapter 1: Below the Surface

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Roena kept her eyes on the ground as she trailed her team through the snowy wilderness of Midreland. The cold, crisp air was refreshing at first, but that was nearly half an hour ago and Roena’s lungs had begun to burn with each inhale. The sunlight illuminated each exhale that managed to make it through the collar of her coat. She was never a fan of hiking, despite growing up in the nooks and crannies of the Appalachian Alliance, but Torchlight’s recon teams were often sent into territories that were less than accessible unless on foot.

A clearing in the trees snapped Roena out of her trance as the dead leaves she once trampled on turned into hard, broken concrete. Looking up just in time to stop herself from running into the back of the team’s tech support, James Marlow, who had stopped in toe with Lieutenant Sanders, their commanding officer, Roena finally realized her surroundings.

“This is it?” Roena found herself unimpressed at the rubble of a building that sat before her. Sagging and broken concrete, rusted-to-nothing signage, with kudzu vines that nearly swallowed the whole thing, Roena was unimpressed at what was supposed to be one of the only remaining pieces of evidence of civilization before the Combine’s arrival.

“This is it.” Sanders spat back, almost annoyed at Roena’s question.

“What did you expect, a red carpet?” Marlow quipped, nudging Roena’s arm. She scoffed before readjusting her jacket and ensuring her med kit was still strapped to her hip securely. As the group began to move in, Roena examined some of the rubble and noticed the ever-so-faint markings of a logo. Admittedly, she had only halfway listened to the briefing on the history of Aperture Science, but somehow, she had expected something more.

As the team made their way into the building’s remains, Sanders motioned for them to don their gasmasks, “We have no idea what could be down here,” he warned. Roena pulled the strap tightly over her head as the facility swallowed them whole. The morning light had completely disappeared as they made their way down the elevator shaft via grapple hooks. Roena peered down, the shaft seemed to go on for miles. As they descended, Marlow was fixated on his screen, reading each quick-scan of the levels they passed. Each floor had an eerily open floor plan, the walls were so far from the shaft that it seemed the cubicles went on for miles. As if these rooms never ended, everything was shrouded in thick fog and darkness.

About 30 stories down, Marlow finally piped up. “Stop here,” He aimed his scanner to focus on a far-off corridor. “That way.” He finished after a pause. The group carefully ventured into the darkness, their headlamps and flashlights illuminating the debris that littered the floor. The place was nothing short of a mess.

===

After a long while walking past offices upon offices, the three eventually came to a massive door. Glancing at each other for a moment, Sanders reached for the handle. He shook at it but was unsuccessful in actually opening it.

“This might help,” Marlow snarked. Both Roena and Sanders whipped their head around to see Marlow tinkering with a scanner on the wall adjacent to the door. Sanders shot Marlow a look as the lock inside the door shifted. Marlow smirked back at him as Sanders pushed the door open to reveal a gaping room full of what looked like shipping containers. Each box was marked with information on what type of materials was inside. Mustering up some courage, Roena walked up to one of the boxes to read the info. She traced her fingers over the thick layer of dust, barely able to make out the words.

“Name… Sex… Build…” Roena’s confusion grew with each word before realization hit her like a truck. “These are…” She trailed off, a little too horrified at what was displayed in front of her to finish her thought.

“Yup.” Marlow said lowly. “But I’m not getting any signs of life, just organic matter for what looks like at least 500 meters.”

“Bunch‘a flippin’ vegetables.” Sanders started plainly, crossing his arms.

What a grim sight this was, and who knows if the bodies were properly preserved at all.  “Sam… this one’s name was Sam.” Roena said solemnly. Roena continued down the line. “Abigail… Nathaniel…” Roena started to choke on her words as she continued. She took several steps back before running into the railing on the other side of the walkway.

“C’mon Doc, we’ve got places to be,” Marlow comforted, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently.

A long walk later, the team finally reached the back of the human storage room and found themselves at a awe-strikingly large vault door. Sanders and Marlow split to flip the switches on opposite sides of the vault, leaving Roena to watch the vault hitch and steam and creak open. Behind it was… a wall?

“Did they seriously make all this just to hide that tiny door?” Sanders announced, baffled. Roena looked around in confusion before her eyes landed on a regular, normal, sensibly sized door at the base of the vault. Roena and Marlow guffawed at the absurdity for a moment before composing themselves and making their way to meet Sanderson at the door. Upon opening the door, they were met with yet another corridor. Sanderson let out an exasperated sigh as the other two followed him in. The first door on the left had been left ajar, Roena noticed that most of the doors in this hallway had been opened. Peering into the room, it seemed to be a very small office with a window as the far wall. Two monitors hung on the wall and a chair was knocked over onto the ground. A single clipboard lay on the desk. Curious about the window, Roena ventured in and peered through the warped glass.

“Miller, what are you doing?” Sanders interrogated from the doorway. “You’re supposed to keep close.”

“I’m just looking…” She answered. Roena’s eyes were fixed on what looked like a smaller sleeping pod. Though it was dark, Roena was sure she could figure out the obscured silhouette of someone in there. Call it intuition, curiosity, or just a plain gut feeling, Roena called Marlow over to scan the room. As he approached, the screen of his handheld glowed that bright blue of cold, dead air.

“No signs,” Marlow started. “Did you think you saw something?”

“I think there's someone in that pod.” Roena said, determined. Her eyes were fixed on the pod as if she were scolding it to life.

“Maybe, but they’ve gotta be long gone like everyone else back there.” Marlow placed a hand on Roena’s shoulder to try and pull her attention away for even just a moment. This was unsuccessful of course. Roena turned for only a moment to steal the scanner from Marlow’s neck. Marlow exclaimed as Roena fervently refreshed the scan, making sure to set the parameters for signs of life exceedingly low.

As the scan finished, Roena saw a tiny flash of red flicker onto the screen. “HA!” She shouted, pointing to the red splotch.

“That doesn’t mean anything, you set the search data so low that it would read a piece of driftwood as a sign of life. Theres nothing in there,”

“I swear to you someone is in there.” Roena glared at Marlow as Sanders walked into the doorframe, a bit exasperated. Marlow held Roena’s gaze before looking to Sanders. Sanders shrugged.

“She would know, wouldn’t she?” Sanders sighed as he stepped toward the two. Reaching behind him, Sanders pulled his fire axe from it’s holster and readied himself. “Out of the way…” Marlow and Roena quickly jumped back to let their Lieutenant take a swing at the glass.

CRASH!

One hit, the glass cracks.

CRASH!

Two hits, the glass cracks even more.

CRASH!

Three hits, we’re making progress now.

CRASH! Tinkle tinkle…

Four hits, the glass chips away and flies into the room behind it.

CRASH! Tinkle tinkle tinkle...

Five hits, a good chunk of the glass just fell into the next room. Sanders decides this is enough and uses his gloved hands to break the rest of the loose glass away enough to let Roena through. He steps away to let her through. Roena nods a thanks as she walks by and takes a longer look into the room. There was definitely someone in there.

Unfortunately, the floor of the chamber was a bit too low for Roena to comfortably land. Embarrassed, she asked Marlow to go in first to help her down, as he was quite a bit taller than her. Marlow laughed, throwing his head back and grabbing his stomach at the situation.

“HAH! Suuuure, whatever you need…” Marlow passed Roena on his way in. “Shortie.” He mocked. Roena cursed him as his feet hit the ground. After helping Roena down, the two made their way into the class cage that stood in the middle of the room.

“Oh my god.” Roena’s face went pale as her intuition paid off. There was someone in there! Roena swiftly pulled out her Medi-Scanner to start running diagnostics on the body.

“I stand corrected, Doc.” Marlow admitted in genuine shock as the two glanced over the Medi-Scanner’s data display. “I’ve no idea how this person is still alive, but here they are.”

“Well help me get them out, then! This is a life we can save!” Roena pressed herself on the glass dome that covered the barely breathing person. Marlow pressed a few buttons on his handheld Tap-Hack and the glass dome came hissing off. Roena pressed her ear to the person’s chest and shushed Marlow, even though he hadn’t said anything. “It’s quiet and very slow, but beating. Get into my pack and get the stretcher,” Marlow did as he was told and quickly extracted the collapsible stretcher, setting it up swiftly.

“Male, thin build. Probably late 30s to early 40s from what I can tell. Looks like there was a bullet wound to his thigh.” A shimmer on his chest caught her eye. “Rattmann, Doug. He was an employee here.” She chuckled to herself before mumbling “Despite all his rage…”

After getting Doug’s weak and practically emaciated body onto the stretcher, Marlow helped Roena get the man up into what Roena assumed to be some kind of observation room where Sanders was waiting. Careful to avoid getting any glass in their shoes, Doug began to stir.

“Shit, hes awake already?” Marlow was on high alert now.

“Dammit, okay, just keep calm and let’s get him back to HQ.” Roena commanded. “This guy needs medical attention yesterday.” She said to Sanders, who quickly understood the assignment and led the way back to the elevator shaft.

===

The team quickly realized that getting Doug to the surface the same way they came down was going to be less than feasible.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Roena sighed.

“Marlow, do you have a scan of the infrastructure?” Sanders asked.

“Yeah, but it’s a little messy.”

“Is there another way up?”

“Let me check.” Marlow swiped the screen, checking for any possible way up that would work. After a bit, Marlow shook his head. “I can’t see anything. We might have to go back to the helicarrier to get more grapples.”

“I think that might be out best shot. Miller, how long do you think you could keep him stable?” Sanders adjusted his backpack as he spoke.

“That’s an hour’s travel at least. I might be able to…” Roena glanced at Doug’s sallow skin and reached for the medkit strapped to her thigh. Sanders and Marlow readied themselves to leave as Roena placed her Medi-Scanner on Doug’s chest to get a more in-depth reading on his vitals. His heartbeat had begun to pick up ever so slightly, but it was clear an hour would be pushing it. After some struggle to find a vein, Roena administered some saline to help his dehydration. “Keep your radios on. I can keep him alive for now, but stabilizing him will be a challenge. Make your trip quick.” She snapped as she took a small penlight to his pupils to make sure they acted correctly. When they didn’t, Roena made a note in the scanner to check back on later.  

“We’ll be as fast as we can. Marlow, lets get going.” The two men made their way up the elevator shaft as Roena kept her focus trained on Doug.

After a while, Doug began to stir and groaned ever so softly. Roena’s attention snapped from the screen to his face. He grimaced gently as Roena turned his head to face the ceiling and tucked some hair out of his face.

“Shh, shh… You’re alright, Mr. Rattmann,” She lightly hushed him. “If you can hear me, don’t try to move too much. You’re alive but very weak. Just relax.” Roena spoke slowly, attempting to soothe him a bit by gently squeezing his shoulder. The man had nearly zero muscle, she could feel the contours of his bones through his already thin clothes. Doug tried to open his eyes but even those muscles were too weak. Roena placed her hand on his head and gently brushed his forehead with her thumb as she kept a careful eye on his breathing.

As she sat there with the withered man, Roena studied her surroundings to pass the time. She eyed the aisle which they’d returned from. It was a dark, gloomy, stuffy office, with an atmosphere so oppressive it seemed to snuff out nearly all of the light that emitted from her flashlight, which she had pointed at the cracked ceiling to provide more visibility to the area. Turning back to Doug, Roena started to introduce herself.

“Greetings, Mr. Rattmann,” She said quietly. “I’m Dr. Miller, I’ll be watching over you while we wait for my colleagues, Lieutenant Sanders and Sergeant Marlow.” Roena shifted from sitting on her knees to sitting with her legs crisscrossed. “I’m not confident you’ll remember any of this,” she smiled, rolling her eyes and glancing away to the unexplored corridor on the other side of the elevator shaft. “but I hope it at least stimulates your brain some…” Roena trailed off as a small red dot of light caught her eye. It was gently pulsing on the back wall of the office. Unsure if she was okay leaving Doug’s side, Roena hesitantly leaned up to follow it back to its source.

Her heart sank to her stomach as soon as she realized what she was looking at.

A/N: ahhhh im sorry im posting so late but I hope y'all enjoyed it!!! it was a BLAST writing this. I originally planned on completely combining chapters 1 and 2, but I really really wanted to get this out today so i could only get 1 and part of 2 bUT HERE IT IS!!! I also hope y'all like the visual aids I've added, as well as the decorative spacer ^^ The map up there is a rough estimate of the North American continent in some 20k years, obviously not adjusted for erosion but you get the idea. I look forward to hearing yall's feedback!!!