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hemipenal-system · 1 year

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Malware I

Reveria rolled her eyes, servos clicking in a way only she could hear, blinking apathetically as she turned her music up. She understood the stares, as much as she despised them. Mugorra didn't get many synthetics like her, especially on Outer Ring trains. The long, heavy shawl she wore covered most of her slender body, both to keep the sand out of her joints and to deflect any further stares.

She wasn't exactly subtle – people of all kinds drifted through here, but being a foot taller than the average human with glowing orange eyes and an extra set of arms made one stick out.

The job was simple. Get in to the storage container, get the silver case, and get out. Perhaps a tier below the usual bloodshed for a KALI-6 class synthetic, but she was doing her best to lay low and take whatever jobs would get her least noticed.

She was trying to sit somewhat still. The case wasn't large, but it was stuffed under her shawl at the moment, and occasionally a corner poked out. She shifted her grip again, moving her hand on the handle for a more comfortable position.

ding

She heard the quiet internal chime and froze. That noise meant something had connected to her. Nothing should have been able to. The shawl had a Faraday cage sewn into the fabric, and it was snapped snug around her. Wireless signals shouldn't have been able to get through, unless-

Shit. The fucking case. She ducked down into the shawl quickly to inspect the case. When she had taken it, she hadn't looked thoroughly enough at it, and had apparently missed the quick contact port in the handle that now stared back at her, her thumb an inch from it after swiping across it when she shuffled it in her secondary arms.

[Download Requested]

Fuck. Every urge in her body was screaming at her to hurl the case away. She had to maintain a facade of order. If she got the case out of the shawl it would block the download, but she couldn't take it out without raising suspicion. This was a poor district. No one carried anything like it here. She couldn't even cancel or acknowledge the download request because she was set up for somakinetic controls and that kind of movement was out of the question.

[Download Proceeding]

What the fuck was she supposed to do about that? She couldn't contact her handler this far underground, and she doubted he'd even know how to fix a software issue with her. She'd foregone her normal backers and picked up a quick contract in the area from a sketchy Vinteran because she was trying to stay within city limits. Something had seemed wrong with him the entire briefing.

Many species got edgy around synthetics, especially KALI models, but this was something else. The whole time they talked, his eyes kept flicking to the door and across the room. Anywhere but her. She wasn't that intimidating, and most people in this business had dealt with scarier synths than her. She'd seen his arms. For as many tattoos as he had, each signifying a kill, she knew he'd seen worse.

Wait. There was another tattoo. Three triangles surrounding an S. Fuck. She sighed, more out of annoyance than actual worry. That slimy, two-faced scaly piece of shit was a Trigonalist. Of course. She'd worked with them before, but it was always born of desperate necessity. "Terrorist" was a strong term, but they weren't the best people out there.

That explained the job, then. She'd wondered why this case was being treated as so important. Lab-grown neurons were a dime a dozen, even out here, and a case that could hold maybe five or six brainslabs maximum couldn't have been worth what she was getting paid to retrieve it, especially since they were blank. But if they could get a small object inside her shawl and download something onto her, like remote access software or a location log?

Well, a KALI-6 class synthetic was decidedly not a dime a dozen anywhere.

[Download Complete]

She instinctively braced up, preparing herself. She'd been cyberattacked before, and she'd lived. She knew what to expect. It was probably going to either be excessive, disabling pop-ups or a logger she could sift through herself and cull later. Nothing too hard to handle.

She wasn't expecting the sharp, drowning techno in her ears to fade out and replace itself with soft jazz. Nor was she expecting the silk-smooth voice that seemed to rebound around the narrow train car, reverberating from everywhere and nowhere.

Hi, sweetie~

She tried to move her eyes, looking around for the speaker without moving her head.

Don't bother with that, darling, I'm still miles away from you! I'm surprised I could even get a connection down in those tunnels!

No one else seemed to be reacting to it. Everyone's faces were still cast down, trying not to make eye contact. It was too late at night for social interaction, especially with this trigger-happy crowd. Accidents happened down here all the time.

Oh, no one can hear me except you! Don't bother asking them for help. It'd be a shame if anyone were to think the big scary killsynth was attacking them. It would probably get... messy.

No one could hear the voice except for Reveria. That made it easier. If it was coming straight from an external source and being processed as speech, that was likely a remote access software. If she could activate a virus scrubber and get into a dead zone, it'd be easy enough to disable.

Oh no you don't, cutie. I'm all clientside. Besides, we're having fun, right?

She needed to know who this was. If she could hold onto this, she could take it into an Enforcement station. Granted, they likely wouldn't be happy to see her, but they'd most likely let her off for bringing in a Trigonalist. Disabling her external speakers, she cast her voice across the link.

Are you a synth? It was hard to know these days. Speech synthesizers had gotten so advanced since Reveria's assembly days.

No, I'm fully human, especially the bits that matter~

What's that supposed to mean?

Watch this! A new screen flicked open, overlaying above the occupants of the train car, showing a video at half transparency. It was enough to pick out details, at least. It just seemed to be... shapes? What was she looking at?

Oh. Oh, six suns. That was human genitalia. Close to the camera and at a strange angle, but still recognizable. Reveria watched with a combination of incredulous amazement and horror as the dripping hole a foot from her face was split open by pale, slender fingers capped with electric blue nails, index and pinky resting gently on the thighs as middle and ring curved delicately through the glistening pink flesh.

Could a synth do this? Technically yes, since most synths were modular enough to install... equipment down there, and some even accessorized with it as a fashion statement, changing it out by the day, but that was beside the point.

Is... is this live? In real time, I mean?

Obviously! Only the best for a pretty girl like you! The other hand, previously out of the camera, descended into the shot holding something that made Reveria's temperature jump up a bit.

Synths didn't really have genitalia, but plenty of aftermarket manufacturers made compatible items for them. She was ashamed to admit she owned a few of different makes and models, but a girl had needs. The voice in her head was holding one of Placebo's Bruiser models, one of Reveria's favorites. It was long and slender, with a ridged underside that featured a camouflaged electroconductive strip that boosted the signal from the partially conductive outer shell.

Said signal strength was entirely customizable for the enjoyment of the wearer, meaning when the voice ran her fingers slowly up the length then circled them around the pointed end, Reveria felt it all as she tried desperately to not buck her hips into the sensation, her body involuntarily seeking more stimulation for the appendage she didn't even have connected. Fuckin' wireless transmission...

Aww, does that feel good? Don't worry, I'll help you feel it~ Reveria tried to brace herself as the feminine words in her ear ran their fingers along the length again before angling it and pushing just the tip into herself. To the synth's immense embarrassment, she couldn't physically stop her hips from slamming forwards, immediately thanking whatever spectral forces existed that no one on the train noticed.

Oh? Someone wants me, huh? Here you go, then!

The synth stifled a scream as the voice slammed the entire length in at once, arching her back slightly for a better angle as the synth was forced to watch and feel all of it. The voice, for her part, was clearly also feeling it, as the constant noise attested. Reveria couldn't think clearly. No matter where she turned her head, she could see the human practically bouncing on it, to speak nothing of the feeling which only grew stronger as the human leaned forward. The synth could feel the human touching her, one hand on her shoulder and the other pressing her into the seat with a force that she knew wasn't real but certainly felt tangible enough.

She got a momentary relief from the constant whimpering in her ear when the brakes of the train activated, the loud screech drowning out all but the words, This is your stop! Don't miss it!

The moment the train had stopped, the needy whines returned. Reveria managed to stumble to her feet, shaking like a drunken Turvoss, and stagger off the train. She had barely made it to the platform before the fire in her midsection caught up to her and her legs practically buckled as the world was drowned out in a sea of white.

Fuck, Revi, don't just stop! I need you please don't stop now! The sensation of the length being ensheathed again was so much more powerful now, and if Reveria had been halfway lucid at this point she would have picked up on the fact that the human knew her name. As it was, that was far more thinking than she was capable of. All she could think about was getting home. She managed to pool her brain function enough to find and activate the tracker beacon in her rented room, the slender white line tracing out a path in front of her that she attempted to follow, one step at a time.

The feeling was overwhelming her. It was unprofessional, but she needed some time alone. If she had anything attached to relieve herself with, she likely would have lost her composure and done it right there in the station. As it was, she just moved through the station as fast as she could, shaky, desperate movements drawing stares that she was too deep in a world of need to notice or care about.

She was halfway up the stairs to exit the station when it happened again, her entire body twitching hard then going limp as she frantically grabbed a rail to avoid falling. The voice just laughed in her ear as she did. It was only three blocks to her building. She could make it.

She wasn't even up the stairs when the next one hit. They were getting faster and faster, her increased sensitivity after each making it easier to drive her over the edge for the next.

You gotta get home, okay? I need you to pick something out and fuck me for real~

Three blocks. It was three blocks.

This was the door. The white strip on the street took a sharp left through the narrow arch. She crossed the threshold, holding the doorframe for support as she climaxed again. How many times had she? Thinking about it was too hard. There was nothing in her head anymore except for that delicious whimpering that seemed to increase in intensity along with her. She just had to take the elevator up to the eighth floor and get into her room, then she could cut the signal.

The hallway looked the same as it always did. Bare. Stumbling to her door, she tried the knob. Locked. She just snapped it off. Any measure or restriction of her own strength was gone. The door swung open.

Something was wrong. Her brain was getting sluggish, but she retained enough evidence to realize this wasn't her room. The sand-brown walls she should have seen were dark and lit with purple LEDs, and the furniture was all arranged wrong. Soft jazz was playing.

She had a sudden break of clarity, and felt cold all of a sudden as the figure sitting in the back of the room, lit from behind by a computer monitor, pulled the toy from within herself and tossed it over. Reveria's hand instinctively shot up and caught it, the liquid on it glinting in the harsh hallway light. She checked the tracker beacon she had been following. Where she had expected reveria.home in the namespace, she saw instead DEN1ZEN. This wasn't her building.

Hi, Revi~

#monster fucker #terato #hypnosis #(kinda)#synthetic #robot #robotification #robotization #wlw nsft #exhibition #fantasy nsft #sci fi nsft

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the-insouciant-scientist · 1 year

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@fallenlondonficswap @uniquezombiedestiny

For the general swap! Listen both our main characters are amnesiacs I had to do Something with that

Down Here Underneath

Maethyl Fallow & Harper Faraday, General Rating, 909 words.

Maethyl dropped back into her seat with a heavy sigh, a cup of steaming hot coffee warming both hands. It had been a hell of a morning, and she was looking forward to finally allowing herself to just sit and relax. She let her head loll backwards against the chair, tentacles curling gently around its wooden edges, when she heard a small cough across from her.

“Ah, hello?” A voice said. She looked up and half-winced when she realized she had not, in fact, found an empty table. How she had missed the pages upon pages of scribbling and scientific notation was beyond her. She squinted at her unexpected table-mate, who gave her an owlish look of surprise in response.

“Sorry, I can move if you want me to. It’s been… a day.” Mae said after a moment. She really didn’t want to move, it was a very comfortable chair and she was tired, but it felt rude not to offer.

The stranger shook their head. “Oh, it’s no issue, really. Sorry about the mess.” They said sheepishly. Mae took a good look at them, from their unruly hair to their neathbow splattered labcoat worn unbuttoned, and came to the conclusion that this was probably as neat as they ever were. She shrugged, and they relaxed by a fraction.

After a moment of uneasy peace as they both tried to acclimate to each others’ unexpected presence, the scientist went back to their writing. Maethyl sipped at her coffee and tried not to stare too obviously.

“So, what is all this?” Mae asked. The stranger looked up near-immediately, alight from the opportunity to talk about their work.

“A collaborative experiment with my spouse, on mordants and fixatives. Some of their Neath-color dyes don’t stay in fabric well. Like gant, especially. Or irrigo.” they rambled, referencing a faded violet-ish stain along the hem of their coat. Mae’s vision slid across it no matter how hard she tried to focus.

“I see that color when I close my eyes, sometimes.” Mae said.

The scientist perked up, rolling a fountain pen between their fingers. “Memory loss?” they asked, almost seeming excited at the prospect. Mae frowned. People always made such a fuss about her amnesia, once they found out.

After a moment she nodded, begrudgingly. “Can’t remember anything before waking up in a New Newgate cell a few months ago.” She took a small sip from her drink to break the tension.

They fluttered their right hand by their side, suddenly, surprise and delight twining in their expression. “It was a few years ago for me, but… I’m the same.” they said, softly. Mae choked on her coffee in surprise for a second, coughing. “Do you remember anything from before? Or just total amnesia.”

“Dunno. If I did remember any details I’d just forget that I did, so how would I know?” She replied. “Do you?”

“Understandable, given the nature of irrigo. Ah, I… Some? But not really. Mostly just snippets, stuff tied to senses. Sometimes I remember the scent of surface flowers, or the texture of a specific lace, or the feeling of sunlight, but… I completely lack context, or any specific details.”

Maethyl hummed in sympathy. “Sounds nice, at least.”

Her conversational partner nodded after a moment, as if lost in thought, before speaking once more. “So, you’re still pretty new to the Neath then, if you only woke up in New Newgate a few months back. How has it been for you so far?”

Mae groaned, setting her coffee cup down and burying her face in her hands. A stray tentacle clung to one of her fingers. “Tried my hand at growing mushrooms and ended up in the middle of a warzone.”

The scientist winced. “That was a doozy. I’d like to say that was an outlier, as summers go, but from my observations it’s more pattern than coincidence. Augusts seem to just have a particular kind of trouble to them. And Thursdays, for that matter, especially at the end of any given month.”

“Eugh. Noted.” She replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. The scientist offered a wry smile, before it abruptly shifted into dawning realization.

“Oh.” They breathed. “That was your first time ever seeing the sun, then.”

Mae instinctively hunched up her shoulders. “Yeah. Yours too. What did you think? I thought it was a bit shit. Bloody hurt, too. I’ll be ecstatic if I never have to feel that again.”

“Bright. Warm. Absolutely painful, yes. But… I don’t know. As I crashed up there, burning in sunlight, all I could think of was that it was breathtakingly beautiful. But that very well could have been the adrenaline talking.” The scientist said, fidgeting with their cosmogone-lensed spectacles.

“Can’t say I agree, but to each their own.” She said with a half-smile. They both let their gazes wander over the rest of the coffeeshop, deep in thought.

“I wonder, though, how many others there are out there like us. Whose lives basically began in prison, not even remembering what they did or didn’t do. Maybe we should start a club.” They said with a dry laugh.

“Neathy amnesiacs anonymous. Anonymous because all of us have a shitty memory, that is.” Mae joked. The scientist paused for a second, seemingly having trouble parsing the humor, before they smiled too.

“Neathy amnesiacs anonymous.” They echoed. Mae picked up her coffee cup in a mock-toast and drained the last of it.

#fallen london fic swap #the scientist scribbles #they are amnesiacs for different reasons! but it is still neat to meet someone like you #c: harper faraday #others ocs #maethyl fallow #also jeez i have been writing a Lot. insomnia last night did not help. anyways i hope you enjoy this!#also the neathy amnesiacs anonymous joke is courtesy of the-dye-stained-socialite yippee #a copy of your bazaarine tale

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dunn1t · 21 days

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NAMED PRIYA BADAMI. KNOWN AS PRI, ISHANI KAPAR. ZODIAC LEO SUN, SCORPIO MOON. DOB AUGUST EIGHTH, THIRTY. PLACE OF BIRTH BANGALORE, INDIA. GENDER CIS WOMAN. PRONOUNS SHE/HER. ORIENTATION DEMISEXUAL. OCCUPATION HIGH SOCIETY DARLING, RETIRED SOCIAL CLIMBER. FACECLAIM SOBHITA DHULIPALA.

INSPIRED BY ANNA DELVEY, NICOLA SIX ( LONDON FIELDS ), EVE HARRINGTON ( ALL ABOUT EVE ), CATHERINE TRAMELL ( BASIC INSTINCT ), GRACE FARADAY ( GANGSTER SQUAD. )

HEIGHT FIVE FOOT NINE INCHES. HAIR INKY BLACK, WORN LONG. EYES DARK BROWN, DOELIKE. SCENT WARM FLORAL, MUSK FORWARD WITH LAYERING OF IRIS & ALMOND. LANGUAGES KANNADA, HINDI, ENGLISH, SPANISH. DISPOSITION SANGUINE. POSITIVE TRAITS INTREPID, ENRAPTURING, DEVOUT. NEGATIVE TRAITS OBSESSIVE, DELUSORY, UNFATHOMABLE.

BACKGROUND.

there are stories about you, darling. people take your name and make a myth of it. i'd heard her family's blood is thicker than oil. well, i heard her father owns half of moma. these things are only as true as you allow others to believe. after all, a myth only bore truth when you peered beneath its veneer. no one has ever known you, only ever the idea of you.

you once lived in a world of unfathomable privilege, where wealth wrapped itself around you like a silken shroud, soft and impenetrable, whispering lies eternal. but that shroud unraveled the day your father was swallowed by the abyss, leaving behind the hollow shell of a life you once thought perpetual. what was meant to be your inheritance crumbled into dust, like the once-grand house that raised you, where every corner now suffocates under the weight of time, collecting not just dust but the echoes of an era long past—a symphony of opulence gone quiet, the notes lost in the dark.

your mother, all swathed in funeral black, wrapped in mourning and whispers, became a phantom of her former self—yet paradoxically, she found a strange and almost malevolent vitality in the wake of your father’s untimely demise. she learned to wear the mask of affluence with a nearly ritualistic precision, clinging to the upper echelons of society even as the very foundations of your world crumbled beneath you.

you grew up in the shadow of those stories, and they grew up in you, too. you were a girl once, wide-eyed and petal soft, but the shadows sharpened you, turned you. your beauty, like your legacy, is resplendent and haunting, a façade hiding a heart as cold and unyielding as the marble floors beneath your feet. you are a contradiction in motion, a deadly nightshade blooming with toxic allure in a garden overrun with ruin.

you rose from the ashes of your past, not as a phoenix but as a ghost of your own making, weaving yourself into the glittering tapestry of high society. you reign there, a modern-day tastemaker. one who doesn’t follow trends but conjures them from the ether, leaving the world at arm’s length, always yearning. always entranced by the myth of you. you’ve spent years perfecting your art, turning whispers into currency, hubris into the fabric of your existence. in this labyrinth of power and decadence, you move with lethal grace, every step a calculated trapaise in a world where secrets hold more weight than gold.

HEADCANONS.

her and her mother's relationship is very grey gardens, big edie and little edie inspired. except they have gone to a far greater length to maintain the sheen of their once hollowed out wealth.

tom ripley in a pair of stiletto manolo blahniks. high society darling, known for doing nothing spectacular in particular besides her taste in mediterranean summering & clove cigarettes.

quite solitary, calls hotlines or takes a lover when she's feeling lonely.

currently staying on the estate grounds to avoid the press since the legitimacy of her fortune has recently been called into question by the public.

does not know who she is when she's not performing. only remembers the feeling of nonexistence and pledges to be acknowledged in every room she's set foot in since then.

high maitenance™. glutton for life, if it is to be had, it will be lived splendidly. and if it is to be taken, death too will be a treasure.

#eversleyintro #﹠⠀ ⠀⠀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 ⠀ ⠀ 〳 ⠀ ⠀ abt #tw death

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duffel-bag-review · 7 months

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The Mission Darkness X2 Faraday Duffel Bag and MOLLE Faraday Pouch are both designed to block all wireless signals, including WiFi, cell signals, GPS, and more. This provides users with a secure way to transport and store electronic devices without the risk of data theft or hacking.

You can find more information about the Mission Darkness X2 Faraday Duffel Bag and MOLLE Faraday Pouch on the official website of the manufacturer, Mission Darkness. Here are the links:

Mission Darkness X2 Faraday Duffel Bag

Mission Darkness MOLLE Faraday Pouch

These products are popular among professionals who work in sensitive environments, such as law enforcement, military, government agencies, and corporate security teams.

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BOSTANTEN Genuine Leather Travel Weekender Overnight Duffel Bag is made of high-quality real cow leather, durable fabric lining with custom hardware, strong zipper, and zipper closure for your special care.

This bag contains one large internal compartment, one internal zip pocket, and two insert pockets. There is a practical zippered shoe compartment. This travel gym bag can easily hold your 15-inch laptop, iPad, iPhone, clothes, shoes, and other stuff. The weekend bag is ideal for travel by bus, train, or plane. The detachable shoulder strap is adjustable and padded for maximum comfort.

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#amazon #duffelbag #bag #fasion #travelbag #MissionDarknessX2FaradayDuffelBag #Mission Darkness MOLLE Faraday Pouch #Leatherbag #bostanten #bostantengenuineleatherduffel

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actual-lea · 1 year

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SURPRISE IT'S A NEW CHAPTER

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

Five minutes, as it turns out, is a very long time.

Daniel keeps his eyes on the digital clock on the nightstand and times his breaths to the silent second hand ticking steadily in his head, to calm his racing pulse.

Or maybe the persistent thud that he’s attributed to his heart is actually just pain instead, a deep, throbbing ache that ebbs and flows to the rhythm of his breathing.

Is this what a fractured rib feels like? He’s never broken a bone in his life – at least, not that he can remember – so he has nothing to compare against. Nothing seems horribly amiss when he presses his hand lightly over the sore spot on his chest; but then, would he even be able to tell through the vest? He’s afraid of pressing too hard.

Regardless, he’ll have one hell of a bruise.

At halfway past the four-minute mark, he takes a deep breath and pushes off the wall. The simple act of leaning forward to crawl towards the phone is enough to exhaust him, and he makes it no more than a few inches before crumpling to the floor, clutching his chest with one hand. “Ow.”

He's sorely tempted to just stay where he is. He could sleep here, curled up on his side with his face pressed to the carpet. Maybe he'd even feel better by the morning.

He inhales with a shudder. Probably not.

He's psyching himself up to try again when a figure walks slowly past the window, casting a dark shadow on the closed curtains.

There's a harsh knock, and Dan stares at the locked door in silence. It wouldn't be Sayid, returning to kill him after all; he'd left with the extra room key still in his hand. He could let himself in, if he's changed his mind.

Another knock, more insistent this time, and then Daniel's blood turns to ice when the doorknob begins to rattle, slow and methodical, with the telltale sounds of a lock being picked. He tries to scramble to his feet but only exhausts himself again, and then there's nothing he can do but watch with wide eyes as the door swings open to reveal a tall man, silhouetted by the too-bright streetlights of the parking lot, pointing a gun into the room.

He steps forward, and Dan doesn't know whether to laugh or shout for help when his eyes finally focus on the man's face. “You?”

Abaddon lowers the gun and shuts the door behind him without looking away from Daniel. “Are you alright, Mr. Faraday?”

Daniel tries to back up. “S-stay away from me,” he wheezes, an order which Abaddon promptly ignores.

He kneels beside Daniel and pries his hand away from his chest. “What happened?” Dan exhales weakly in response, a soft groan of protest as Abaddon unbuttons his shirt. “Where did you get this?” he asks after a moment.

Daniel rolls his eyes. “Well, the bullet came from a gun, and the vest– Ow!”

“Looks like it nearly went straight through.” Abaddon continues to poke at the asymmetrical disc of metal embedded into the fabric right above Dan’s heart, the only part of the deformed bullet that’s still visible.

“Guess I’m lucky,” Daniel mumbles through gritted teeth.

“Lucky they didn’t aim for your head,” Abaddon says. “Who did this to you?”

Lie. He has to lie. “I…don’t know.”

Abaddon casts him a doubtful look. “You don’t know?”

He shifts uncomfortably and winces. “I couldn’t– It was dark, I…didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Why would anyone want to kill you, Mr. Faraday?”

“I don’t…” He huffs out a laugh. “I was…hoping you could tell me.”

Abaddon frowns; instead of answering, he pushes Dan’s shirt aside to remove the vest in a cacophony of ripping Velcro. “Can you stand?” he asks, offering a hand.

Daniel stares at it. “I don’t need your help.”

Abaddon raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t want your help,” he says instead, and he moves to get up, to prove his point. He makes it halfway before he has to stop and squeeze his eyes shut and breathe, one hand pressed to the wall for support. “What are you…doing here, anyway?” he asks, mostly to distract himself.

Abaddon stays where he is, watching him patiently. “I’m here for you, Mr. Faraday.”

Dan scoffs and mutters, “Yeah, seems like everyone is.”

“I’m sorry?”

He shakes his head and slowly pushes himself up to his feet. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to protect you,” Abaddon says. “Mr. Widmore was concerned that you might be in danger.”

“Of course he was,” Daniel says flatly.

“It looks to me like he wasn’t wrong.”

“I’m fine,” he insists.

Without warning, Abaddon takes a single step forward and presses two fingers into Dan’s left side; not hard, but it’s more than enough to bring him to his knees with a groan. “You’re not fine,” Abaddon observes as he towers over him. “At least one of your ribs is bruised, if not broken outright. If I had to make a guess, I’d say it’s more like two or three ribs.”

Daniel lifts his head to find the phone, still sitting right where Sayid left it on the other side of the room. “I think I’ll…get a second opinion,” he wheezes from the floor before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet.

“You need medical attention, Mr. Faraday,” Abaddon states. Daniel shuffles past Abaddon, who doesn’t stop him, but continues, “I’m going to drive you to a hospital.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.” He stops and bends down to pick up his bag.

And then he’s on the floor again and clutching his side, the pain so sharp and so sudden that he feels for the knife that must be buried between his ribs. His gasps for breath do nothing to fill the vacuum left behind in his chest.

Abaddon moves toward him, unaffected by the apparent and abrupt lack of oxygen in the room. “Having trouble breathing?”

It’s a laughable understatement, though Dan couldn’t laugh at it if he wanted to. He’s not having trouble breathing; he just can’t breathe, despite his increasingly frantic efforts.

“Lie down,” Abaddon is saying, grabbing hold of his shoulder to shift him onto his back.

The adjustment helps, marginally, even if there’s still a ten-ton weight on his chest. “Wha… What’s…”

Abaddon watches him gasp like a dying fish. “Sounds like a collapsed lung,” he says, calm as ever. “Not life-threatening, provided we get you to the hospital quickly.” Then he raises an eyebrow. “Or, if you don’t want my help, you can call an ambulance. This part of town, at this time of night, shouldn’t take more than ten or so minutes for them to arrive. That is, if you can make it to the phone.”

He gestures to the object in question, and Dan tilts his head back to find it, still out of his reach. He’ll have to crawl to it.

“Of course, that’s plenty of time for the air in your chest to build up and put you into cardiac arrest,” Abaddon continues. He pauses, taking in Dan’s terrified expression, and then he shrugs. “But what do I know, right?” He straightens up and heads for the door. “Have a nice night, Mr. Faraday.”

“W-wait,” Dan gasps out. Abaddon stops and turns back to him, and Dan shuts his eyes so he won’t have to see the smug look on his face. “Help.”

------

Daniel has hated hospitals for as long as he can remember; his stay following the accident must have left an impression, despite his lack of recollection, because even the slightest whiff of disinfectant has always been enough to overwhelm him with dread.

Or at least, it was, before his brief foray into custodial services in Ann Arbor served as an unintentional exposure therapy of sorts.

He’s still not exactly comfortable here, lying in a too-firm bed surrounded by monitors and beeping machines all connected to him with wires and tubes, most of them completely unnecessary. Aside from the comically large needle that he was jabbed with once all the X-rays were done, the only treatment he’s been prescribed for his injuries – two cracked ribs and a partially collapsed lung – is rest, meaning that he would likely have been just as fine sleeping in a motel room as he is here, contrary to Abaddon’s diagnosis.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. At least he can do that much, now that he’s getting a steady drip of pain medication. He can feel it every time the machine controlling his IV line dispenses another dose, crawling up his arm like pins and needles and finally rising into his head like soft, warm fog.

The door creaks open and he sighs. It can only be the nurse again, checking in on him for the third time in as many hours to ask if he’s hungry. He lifts his head to give her the same answer as before, and then he freezes.

Charles Widmore stands in the doorway, staring back at him.

The single step he takes toward Daniel is enough to break his trance, and he scrambles for the remote attached to his bed, for the bright red HELP button that will summon someone else to his side, because the last person in the world that he wants to be alone with is–

“Don’t bother,” Widmore says dismissively. “They’ll only do what I tell them to do.”

Daniel clicks the button anyway, a few times for good measure, and watches warily as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”

Widmore doesn’t answer right away, instead taking his time to survey the room like he’s viewing a property for sale. When his gaze inevitably lands back on Daniel, there’s a glimmer in his eyes that makes him feel like he’s being sized up for something. “I came to check on you, of course.” He takes a seat in a chair beside the bed. “I had business in Los Angeles, and I was told that you were injured.”

Daniel blinks and hesitates a moment too long before asking, with all the bite he can muster, “Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“Perhaps.” Widmore chuckles, a sound that’s as unsettling as it is unexpected. “You aren’t an easy man to find, Daniel.”

“That’s because I didn’t want to be found,” he says flatly.

“Of course, I’m well aware.” Another chuckle. “You’ve made quite the admirable effort to keep yourself hidden. Naive, of course, and entirely unsuccessful, but admirable.”

Dan bristles. “What do you want?”

Widmore laces his fingers together. “First, I need to know that you’ve held up your end of our bargain.”

“Bargain?” Dan shakes his head. “What–”

“I haven't seen or heard from my daughter in six years, Daniel,” Widmore says, his voice sharp. “You’re the only link I have to her.”

Daniel exhales. Despite an admittedly rocky start, Penny and Desmond were quick to make him feel at home on Our Mutual Friend, something they didn’t have to do, something he’s not sure he ever really thanked them for. It had been easy to forget, after a while, that he was technically there on Charles' bidding.

“I won’t demand to know what you’ve all been up to, over the past two years,” Charles continues, “But at least, answer me this: Is she safe?”

Hesitantly, Daniel nods. “Yeah.” Surely there's no harm in saying that much. “She’s fine. She’s happy, in case that matters to you.”

Widmore’s mouth twitches, but he nods, satisfied. “In that case, I’d like to make you an additional offer.”

Dan’s hand tightens around the remote. “I’m not interested.”

Widmore raises an eyebrow. “You and I are after the same thing, Daniel.”

Suspicion crawls up his spine like a spider. “And what is that?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know the answer.

“The island,” Widmore says simply, and Daniel tries to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t lie to me, Daniel.” It’s a simple statement of fact, and Dan exhales, defeated. “I’ve been keeping track of you since the moment you arrived in Ann Arbor. I know that you’ve been trying to find a way back.”

“I was.” He shakes his head. “I’m not anymore.”

Widmore nods slowly, his gaze never leaving Daniel’s face. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you should,” he retorts. “I’m done with all of this. I have no reason to go back, and I…” He stops, and narrows his eyes. “Did you know?”

Widmore’s expression doesn’t change. “Did I know what?” he asks after a moment.

“Did you know what was gonna happen, when you sent the freighter?”

“How could I know--”

“Did you know that the island would move? That some of the people you sent would get stuck there?”

“I knew that it would be dangerous.” Widmore leans forward. “I knew that there would be casualties.”

“Is that why you didn’t go yourself?” Dan’s voice shakes, but he continues anyway, the words all coming out in a rush. “Because you knew that people would die? And you still sent them there?”

Widmore’s eyes flicker with something that could be regret, or it could be something else entirely. “I did what I had to do,” he says finally, his voice low and measured. “For the greater good.”

“The greater good? What kind of–” Daniel stops himself. Closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. “Did you know that Charlotte would die?” He watches closely for Widmore’s reaction, or lack thereof.

“Charlotte,” he repeats. “I’m afraid I don’t–”

“Charlotte Lewis. The anthropologist. She was on my team.” Daniel swallows against the lump in his throat. “She’s dead.”

“That is unfortunate.” Widmore’s face remains impassive. “Still, it’s imperative that we find the island again.”

“Why?” Dan’s throat feels tight, like he’s choking, and he swallows again. “Why now?”

“Because we’re running out of time.”

He blinks, not understanding, but he doesn’t want to understand. Not anymore. “Like I said, I’m not interested.” His thoughts are turning fuzzy again, the edges of his consciousness softened by the medication. “So, why don’t you just…” He motions toward the door. “Leave me alone.”

“I wish that I could.” Charles leans back in the chair with a sigh. “Unfortunately for both of us, it seems I’m not the only one whose attention you’ve managed to catch.”

“What does that mean?”

“As I'm sure you're aware, the man that put you in this hospital was not working for me.” He watches Dan carefully. “Do you know who it was?”

Daniel shakes his head, not trusting his voice to remain steady through the lie. “Do you?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“But you're not gonna share them with me,” he guesses.

Widmore's face remains carefully blank. “Benjamin Linus.“

Daniel frowns. The name rings a bell, but only faintly. “The... The guy from the island? How could he--”

“He left the island,” Charles says simply. “How long ago is anyone's guess.”

“And you think he shot me?”

“I rather doubt that it was him personally. He's not the type to get his hands dirty.” Widmore folds his hands in his lap. “But it's safe to assume that the man who did, did so under his orders.”

Daniel shakes his head at the absurdity of the idea; Sayid working for Ben Linus? “But why would he want me dead? I never met him, I– I don’t think he even knows who I am.”

“You underestimate him,” Widmore says. “That's why I'm here, Daniel. I want to offer you my protection.”

Dan stares at him. “Why?”

“You clearly need it.” Widmore leans forward. “And I need to find the island.”

Daniel tries not to flinch. Of course. Of course that would be the catch. “What makes you think I would even be capable of–”

“I know you, Daniel,” Charles says suddenly, his eyes intense. “I know what you're capable of. I know you can do this, if you put your mind to it.”

“And what if…” Dan's mouth is too dry. He swallows. “What if I don't want to?”

Charles frowns at him. “This isn't something you can run away from, Daniel. Surely, you've realized that by now.” He leans back in his chair again. “So? What's your answer?”

Daniel stares at his hands. “I’ll think about it,” he lies.

“That’s all I’m asking.” Satisfied, Charles stands and walks to the door, and Dan doesn’t look up. It’s too far away for his tired eyes to follow, distant like Charles’ voice when he pauses to add before leaving, “I’ll be in touch.”

------

It’s a miserable eight days in the hospital. Dan is never asked about what happened to him. He's never questioned, by doctors or police or otherwise, about who shot him, and why, and what reason he could possibly have for wearing the vest that had stopped the bullet. He chalks that up to Widmore's influence.

The assumption is all but proven when he's finally discharged, when he walks out the front door and sees Abaddon waiting for him, standing beside a black SUV idling in a fire lane nearby.

Daniel's grip tightens on the bag he's holding, full of personal effects and paperwork and a prescription for painkillers that he probably won't bother to fill and a plastic device meant for deep breathing exercises twice a day until he's finished healing – somewhere around six weeks, he was told. Six weeks until the ache goes away, six weeks until he can breathe freely again.

He doubts that, somehow.

He turns on his heel and walks away from the parking lot, away from Abaddon and toward the bus stop on the opposite sidewalk. The benches beneath its awning are full, so he heads for a concrete divider closer to the hospital building and further back from the busy street. It’s a bit damp from the rain earlier in the day, but he sits down anyway, wincing a bit, and digs around in the bag for the tourist maps he'd poached from the hospital's lobby, so he can figure out where he's going.

Just as soon as he figures out where he's going.

He's puzzling over one of the unfolded maps for less than a minute before he feels eyes on him, a figure deliberately approaching, and he lifts his head with a sigh, ready to paste a polite smile on his face and assure this stranger that he's not lost, he doesn't need any help, thank you.

Instead, he locks eyes with Abigail Spencer.

She stares back at him, stern as ever, her fingers clamped tight around the strap of her purse.

He should probably say something, do something besides gawk at her like he's seeing a ghost. “Hi,” he forces out.

Her expression doesn't change. She jerks her head toward the ground. “Shoe's untied.”

He blinks, twice, then reaches down to fix it – too fast, and he bites his lip to hold back a pained groan. Still, it's a momentary distraction, enough to reintroduce some semblance of order to his thoughts. “You're– You're in LA,” he says dumbly, and he doesn't have to look up to see Abigail roll her eyes.

The last time they met, she said she’d kill him if she ever saw him again. He believed her then, and he still does, but she isn't hitting him, or stabbing him, or trying to strangle him with her bare hands. She's just standing there, tapping her foot and glowering at her surroundings like there's a foul stench in the air, when he finishes tying his shoe and sits up straight again.

“What…are you doing here?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

She finally moves, reaches into her purse, and Dan half expects her to pull out a gun and shoot him on the spot, in broad daylight. Instead, she produces a single piece of paper, both sides covered with diagrams and equations in a familiar handwriting that he can't quite place.

Until Abigail steps forward to hand it to him and says, “I've got a message from Theresa.”

(next chapter)

#lost #fanfiction #daniel faraday #abc lost #lost show #WITNESS ME #a place to call home #the way home

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frippalifting · 2 years

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First amazon 🧬 successful 😁😁 i feel so proud, the funniest thing is that I 🧬ed some RF fabric to make a Faraday cage hehebe

19 euros saved

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zhuqiang · 2 years

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There is a fabric that can shield radiation!

With the improvement of human's requirements for healthy life and work, and the increase of more and more radiation products for household and industrial use, radiation protection products are more and more widely used in clothing. 1. Application in special industries. Such as the military, hospitals, special types of work, etc., the whole body needs to be shielded from radiation hazards. · Therefore, shielding cloth can effectively prevent radiation from eroding our body.

The body is the capital of life. Only when we protect our health can we obtain more wealth. For our health, we must have a certain sense of safety.

#Anti-radiation cloth #radiation #Conductive #Faraday cage #Pregnancy clothes #radiation blocker #RFID fabric #Conductive cloth

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coolllb0 · 2 years

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It turns out that radiation is really everywhere!

We carefully read the instructions on some electrical appliances. Some electrical appliances contain radiation. For this reason, professionals have developed a special radiation-proof fabric. Radiation-proof fabric can be covered on electrical appliances to isolate radiation and protect the health of family members.

#RF blocking #EMF Protective #RFID fabric #emf protection fabric #Faraday cloth #anti radiation protection

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waddlesworth · 2 years

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Late night custom of a plushie I got. I cannot for the life of me sew, so I improvised on buying an already made plush and basically using it to my advantage.

I colored his hair as well as fabric-glued it to look more like Faraday. :3

Before:

#doctor faraday #the little stranger #sarah waters #custom plush #comfort character #f/o community #self shipping community #comfort plush #plush toy #plush

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realasslesbian · 2 years

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See, I find the concept of prepping interesting, especially as a former homeless I can see how prepping for an emergency living situation is actually practical and could feasibly come in use. But every Australian prepper group is all ‘I’m digging a nuclear bunker for when the bombs drop’ ‘I’m building a faraday cage for radiation’ ‘I’m hoarding fabric softener for when the zombie apocalypse happens and supermarkets run out’, and if you mention the actually not unlikely scenario that they, as good upstanding citizens, might experience homelessness and perhaps they should consider prepping for something like that then GOOD LORDT. Suddenly you get the typical Australian reaction of ‘all homeless people are scum who have made the choice to be homeless, I am God’s literal favourite child who has never done anything wrong in my life, so obviously homelessness could never happen to me, also I don’t see the point in listening to tips from homeless people bc my experience of sleeping every night of my life in a warm bed, in my secure house, in a nice neighbourhood, has obviously prepared me for survival more than sleeping rough would, I don’t know how to tell if water’s safe by smell and taste alone, but I don’t need to worry about that because I have a filter on my tap at home, anyway I am very smart, smarter than any homeless person obviously, and I definitely wouldn’t die the second S actually HTF.’

#preppers #poverty #auspol

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safeconnectplus · 21 days

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How to Protect Yourself from EMF Radiation: A Comprehensive Guide

In our increasingly connected world, the proliferation of electronic devices and communication networks has led to growing concerns about electromagnetic field (EMF) radiation. With the rollout of 5G, the placement of cell phone towers, and the widespread use of Wi-Fi, more people are becoming aware of the potential health impacts of EMF exposure. This guide explores practical ways to protect yourself from emf powerlines safe distance radiation, including how to turn off 5G, the best EMF blockers, and how to maintain a safe distance from cell phone towers.

1. How to turn off 5g?

The advent of 5G technology has raised concerns due to its higher frequency range compared to previous generations of cellular networks. If you're worried about 5G radiation and want to limit your exposure, here's how you can turn it off on your devices:

On Smartphones: Most smartphones allow you to disable 5G by switching to a lower network band, such as 4G LTE. To do this, go to your phone's settings, find the mobile network options, and select the option to disable 5G or switch to 4G LTE.

On Routers: Some modern routers support 5G Wi-Fi. To turn it off, access your router's settings through a web browser or app, navigate to the wireless settings, and disable the 5G band, leaving only the 2.4 GHz band active.

By turning off 5G, you can reduce your exposure to this higher-frequency radiation, especially in areas where the network is still being rolled out and tested.

2. Best EMF Blockers

EMF blockers are devices or materials designed to shield you from electromagnetic radiation. They come in various forms, including phone cases, pendants, and even clothing. Here are some of the best options:

Phone Cases: EMF-blocking phone cases are designed to reduce the amount of radiation emitted by your smartphone. Look for cases that have been independently tested and certified to block or deflect EMF radiation.

Shielding Fabric: EMF shielding fabric can be used to make curtains, blankets, or clothing that blocks radiation. This fabric Is wifi harmful to babies? often made from materials like silver or copper that can reflect EMF waves.

Faraday Bags: These are specially designed pouches that block all electromagnetic signals. They're ideal for storing phones or other devices when you don't want to be exposed to EMF radiation.

3. Safe distance to live from cell phone tower? a Cell Phone Tower

Living near a cell phone tower is a common concern due to the constant emission of RF (radiofrequency) radiation. While the exact safe distance can vary depending on the tower's power and design, a general rule of thumb is to live at least 400-500 meters away from a cell phone tower.

At this distance, the intensity of the RF radiation decreases significantly, reducing potential health risks. If you live closer to a tower, consider using EMF-blocking materials in your home to mitigate exposure.

4. EMF Protectors

EMF protectors come in various forms, including devices that can be attached to your electronic gadgets, wearable items, and even stickers. These protectors are designed to neutralize or block the harmful effects of EMF radiation.

Stickers and Chips: These small devices can be attached to your phone, laptop, or other electronic devices. They claim to neutralize or harmonize EMF radiation, though the effectiveness of these products is still debated.

Wearable EMF Protection: Wearable items like pendants, bracelets, or clothing infused with EMF-blocking materials offer another layer of protection. These are particularly popular among individuals How to protect your home from emf? are sensitive to EMF radiation.

5. EMF Shielding for Your Home

Protecting your entire home from EMF radiation can be achieved through various methods, from simple adjustments to specialized devices:

EMF Shielding Paint: This special paint can be applied to walls to block EMF radiation. It's particularly useful for bedrooms or areas where you spend a lot of time.

Window Films: EMF-blocking window films can be applied to windows to reduce radiation from external sources, like cell towers or Wi-Fi signals from nearby buildings.

Whole House EMF Blockers: These devices are installed in your home's electrical system and claim to neutralize or reduce EMF radiation throughout the house. They can be a significant investment, but they offer comprehensive protection.

6. EMF Harmonizers

EMF harmonizers are devices or materials that claim to balance or neutralize the harmful effects of EMF radiation rather than block it outright. They are often based on the idea that EMF radiation disrupts the body's natural energy field, and harmonizers aim to restore balance.

Harmonizer Pendants: These wearable items are designed to protect you by harmonizing the EMF radiation around you. They're often marketed as providing a calming effect and reducing symptoms like headaches or fatigue.

Home Harmonizers: These are larger devices meant to be placed in a central location within your home. They work by emitting frequencies that counteract the negative effects of EMF radiation.

7. Wi-Fi EMF Radiation and Protection

Wi-Fi routers emit radiofrequency radiation, a type of EMF that can penetrate walls and other materials. While the health risks are still debated, many people prefer to limit their exposure:

Wi-Fi EMF Blockers: Devices like router guards or EMF-blocking pouches can reduce the amount of radiation emitted by your Wi-Fi router. Router guards are mesh boxes that can be placed around the router, reducing the radiation without impacting the Wi-Fi signal too much.

Turning Off Wi-Fi at Night: One simple way to reduce exposure is to turn off your Wi-Fi router when not in use, particularly at night. This reduces the amount of continuous radiation in your home.

Positioning the Router: Place your router in a location that is away from bedrooms and living areas where you spend a lot of time. The further you are from the router, the less radiation you're exposed to.

8. Wearable EMF Protection

For those constantly on the go, wearable EMF protection offers a convenient way to shield yourself from radiation:

EMF-Blocking Clothing: Shirts, hats, and even underwear made from EMF-blocking materials can reduce your exposure while you're out and about.

Pendants and Bracelets: Wearable items infused with materials like shungite or copper claim to offer protection by either blocking or harmonizing EMF radiation. These are easy to wear and can be a good option for daily use.

Conclusion

In today's world, where EMF radiation is nearly impossible to avoid, taking steps to protect yourself can bring peace of mind. From turning off 5G to investing in the best EMF blockers and maintaining a safe distance from cell phone towers, there are many ways to reduce your exposure. Whether you opt for EMF shielding paint for your home or wearable protection for when you're on the move, the key is to stay informed and choose the methods that work best for you. By understanding the risks and implementing these protective measures, you can minimize your exposure to EMF radiation and safeguard your health.

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