#Drug Tested Supplements

[beatrixst0nehill]

Cheryl bounced her newly enlarged breasts for her brother. "Look at these enormous boobs, my college is a bunch of perverts. They signed up like fifty girls at my sorority to do some stupid drug trial to test these supplements. Luring us in with promises of better grades, even money taken off our student loans. We all said yes... Just us being dumb sorority girls, huh? They're giving us like three different pills. I think one is supposed to make our boobs bigger, the second makes us more fertile and, well, horny--at least that's what the researcher person said. The last one... Well, you know how they're guaranteeing us better grades? They wouldn't tell us up front what it does. Six months in and they disclosed it damages neural paths and slows thinking, or something. Basically it makes us stupid! And we were all conned into taking it for months. But I kinda don't care... I think I would've before the trial, I don't really remember? They say my IQ dropped to the mid seventies!" Cheryl giggled. "I'm just so horny. I know it's wrong and I always never wanted to indulge your pervy fantasies... But do you mind if we fuck? Apparently I'm super fertile right now. Wanna see how many babies you can fill me with? I kinda wanna see... I don't care if I can't do gymnastics anymore. I just want to fuck, is that bad? Please fuck me, big bro! Abuse my titties all you want! Bruise them up, please! My friends will be soooo jealous!"

[pendingnomdeplume]

the undone and the divine (bedroom hymns) pairing: hozier x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Praise Kink, Dirty Talk (sort of), PIV Sex words: 5.2k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Bedroom Hymns by Florence + the Machine divider by: sylusz

Things are not going well. 

Truthfully, things haven’t been going well for a while, but you’ve tried to ignore it, tried to manifest your way into reducing stress with vitamins, mindfulness, and a fair bit of recreational drug use. The ashwagandha helps (taken at the behest of Andrew who raves about the benefits of mushroom-based drinks and supplements), but it’s a bandage slapped over the real problem: Work is destroying you, mind, body, and soul.

And, sure, okay, maybe you don’t need to be pulling 60-hour work weeks for an incompetent boss who dumps a majority of his tasks onto you. Maybe you don’t need to bring your computer home every weekend “just in case.” But, if you don’t get the work done, who will?

“Your boss?” Andrew answers when you verbalize the question, one eyebrow raised as though it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

You roll your eyes and reply with a snort, “Yeah, that’ll definitely happen.” 

A songbird's melody echoes down the chimney as you sit nestled into his side, his arm thrown around you lazily as you cradle a cup of coffee in your hands. Your laptop bag sits on a chair in the corner of the room, and you stare at it while anxiety brews in your gut. The compulsion to check your email has your fingers itching, but Andrew will protest if you try to peel away from him during this quiet morning together. 

“You work too hard, my love,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

With another roll of your eyes, you reply, “That’s rich coming from you of all people.”

He scoffs but says nothing. 

Andrew knows you’re right, knows that he can’t argue against you when he’s spent the majority of the last two years touring non-stop. It’s been a point of contention before, mostly during his breaks that leave you a mere 2 weeks together before he’s off again. 

Now, he’s home for the foreseeable future (or, until the summer festivals start), and he’s starting to suffer the same frustrations of not having you around, nor having your attention on days where you shouldn’t be thinking about work at all. Bad habits die hard, and you’ve gotten so used to his absence that work eventually became the solution to the void of loneliness within you. 

After all, it’s hard to feel sad when you don’t have the time or energy to feel anything but anxiety.

A vibrating sound emanates from your laptop bag. It’s your work phone that Andrew made you shove away before sitting with you this morning. The sound of it makes you tense, your body ready to spring forward and retrieve it, but Andrew keeps a tight grip on you.

“No,” he scolds like one might chastise a puppy. “Let it go.”

Anxiety prickles along your skin. “Baby, I have to check,” you say as you pull away from him and set your mug down on the table. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, his arm thumping on the couch cushion as you move towards your bag. 

There’s a missed call from your boss, followed by an email chain forwarded to you with a message from him: 

What happened here? How did the system fail in the first place? Why are we not catching these kinds of errors sooner? 

It’s a thread that you were looped into a few days ago—something about a payroll error that left you testing and re-testing the system until well into the evening, hours after your scheduled end time. Your boss was copied on every email explaining the situation, and you made sure to copy him on your replies indicating that the issue was handled so he didn’t have to worry. 

You sigh loudly as you stare up at the ceiling. “God, I’m so fucking over this.” 

“What happened?” Andrew asks tentatively as you turn back around to look at him. 

You shrug, face screwed up in a sardonic smile as you shrug. “The amount of work that I do for this motherfucker, and he can’t even read a fucking email thread. The answers are right there, Gabriel. Everything you just fucking asked me is right there.” 

With another sigh, you collapse back onto the couch with your arms folded over your chest. 

“But he’s fucking right! I should’ve caught this shit earlier! If I had then—”

Andrew interrupts, “Lives were lost, yeah?” It’s snarky and fractious, and you feel irritation build like a heat in your chest. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot that your company delivers fucking organs for immediate, dire transplants. I mean, do you hear yourself right now?”

You glare at him. “Andrew, do not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right, yeah, of course. I forgot how much Gabriel’s opinion matters more than your partner’s concerns.” 

You close your eyes and inhale deeply through your nose, trying to remember the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 sequence for mindfulness. Was it five things you can touch or that you can see? 

“Baby, I love you so much, and I appreciate your concern. But I’m the fucking idiot who didn’t catch a simple error, and now my boss thinks I’m a dipshit who can’t do their job right. God, it always feels like I’m fucking something up. Why can’t I just get this shit right for once in my life?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Andrew throws his hands up in the air with a scoff. “I am so tired of this.” 

With a frown, you snap back, “What? What are you so tired of, Andrew?”

“I’m tired of your insistence that you’re stupid, or that you can’t do your job, or that you’re always fucking things up despite the fact that you seem to be the sole reason your office functions at all. And you’re not just doing your job, you’re doing the job of about three people without the acknowledgement or pay to back it up.

“It’s not your fault that your boss can’t read a fucking email thread. And, how would you know to look for a problem when it hadn’t even occurred yet? Are you supposed to be fucking psychic?

“I mean, fuck’s sake, it’s obvious how absolutely miserable you are doing this. It’s obvious how little these people care about you, not because you’re ‘bad at your job,’ but because they see the work you do and expect more. Your only reward for being good at what you do seems to be receiving even more work.”

You scoff a hollow laugh. “Throwing stones in glass houses, aren’t ya, Andrew?”

“At least I enjoy what I do. The miserable part is having to be away from you.”

Oh. 

It’s like a shot straight to your heart. Guilt churns in your stomach as you look away from him. 

“I…”

A part of you wants to argue that he chooses to do those long tours, but you know that’s not entirely true. It’s more at the behest of the label, trying to parade him out as much as possible despite his resistance to such things. Their reluctant show pony. It’s why he has any social media at all, though he has nothing to do with it any longer. 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, your throat tightening as you try to swallow down your emotions. But one sniffle has him quickly wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You turn your face into his chest as a few hot tears roll down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his lithe frame as he presses a kiss to your head.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your hair. “I hate seeing you so miserable. I know we’ve talked about it before, but please consider my offer.”

“Andrew—”

“Please, just think about it.”

The offer has been on the table since last year when he came home for a break and found you sobbing in a darkened room with only the glow of your laptop illuminating your curled up form. Andrew had laid it out for you plainly: Quit your job and let him support you. He’d said it so easily, and you knew that he meant it, that he was more than capable of supporting the both of you given his income.

The thought has always made you uncomfortable. It seems unfair not to pull any kind of income, not to pay your own way in life with your own means. On top of that, what are you to do with your time if you’re not working? The concept of “free time” makes you anxious. Your mind and your hands need to stay busy; an unstructured day with hours of daylight and no plan sounds like a genuine nightmare.

But, could boredom and lack of direction be any worse than this? God knows the amount of cortisol coursing through your system has shaved a few years off of your lifespan, and that’s not including the cigarettes you sneak every now and again, nor the alcohol consumed when you finally have a chance to breathe and let loose. 

You should be ecstatic that Andrew is home, that you finally get to spend more time together now that his obligations are far fewer and farther in between. Except, you haven’t spent much time together at all with your overtime hours. 

It’s obvious that this situation is affecting him as well. You hate seeing him hurt, and it makes sense that he’d feel the same about you. If your stress is causing him stress, then you’ve effectively created an ouroboros of misery based entirely around your work. 

Your phone buzzes again with Gabriel’s name at the top, and a wave of nausea overcomes you as your throat tightens in the threat of another sob. A soothing hand immediately rubs at your back, and you’re hit with the realization that you’ve been in this position before. 

It’s less deja vu and more a bleak understanding that this isn’t the first, second, or third time you’ve sat on this specific couch with Andrew holding you and talking you through another job-related meltdown. 

The thought of this cycle repeating ad nauseam for the rest of your life makes you want to cry.

How long can he stand you complaining about unnecessary suffering before he decides he’s had enough? Andrew’s offer sits on the table collecting cobwebs, and you continuously deny it, for what? For another quarter of feeling insignificant and unappreciated despite carrying the weight of the workplace squarely on your shoulders? For another day of your boss taking the credit for your hard work? How many more thankless years are you willing to put up with before you finally snap? 

And, why should you wait until you’re ready to snap at all? Why must you reach the extremes of suffering before you’re willing to do anything about it? Why do you continue to bear the cross for a company that can and will discard you the moment you are no longer useful for their bottom line?

“Baby,” you say quietly as you pull back to look up at him. “D’you think we can go to the post office today?” 

Andrew frowns, confused. “I mean, sure. But…why?”

“I’ve got some things to send back to London.”

You shut down your work phone completely and move to shove it into your laptop bag. Anger begins to roil as you stomp around now in search of the stupid laptop charger, the stupid mouse, the stupid, cheap headset they provided to you despite making money hand over fist every quarter. 

Still in your pajamas with a hoodie thrown over, you grab your car keys and beckon Andrew to follow. On the way, you ask him to find your personal phone in your bag and pull up Gabriel’s contact information. There are missed calls there, too, including a voicemail that you instruct Andrew to delete immediately. 

As you putter along a backroad heading towards the town proper, you ask, “Can you hit ‘call’ and put it on speaker, please?”

Andrew does so with a look of pure glee as he holds the phone closer to you. 

“Jesus Christ, finally. Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning about this payroll bullshit, and you haven’t—”

With a smile, you cut him off. “Hey, Gabriel, so sorry about that. The payroll thing is all squared and resolved. In fact, you would know that if you read a single fucking email in your entire life.” 

Andrew grins as your boss splutters on the other end. 

“Anyway, I’m calling to let you know that I quit. Effective immediately.”

Gabriel chokes out, “What? But you can’t just—” 

“I sure can! Don’t worry, HR will be getting an official notice shortly.”

He bites back, “This is a breach of your contract, you know. We explicitly outlined a month’s time frame if you’re to leave. You won’t get paid through the rest of your contracted time if you leave.” 

You roll your eyes. “Right. I’m well aware. Really, I just wanted to make sure to let you know that all of my tech and equipment will be going back to the main London office. Thought I’d give you a heads up first, though. Y’know, as a courtesy.” 

“As a courtesy? I—you—?! Just fucking bring it here!”

You pretend to think. “See, here’s the thing: I think IT should have this handed to them directly. All that PII, customer data, and all of those reports I built out over the last few years? And all of those analytics that are saved locally to my computer’s hard drive? Figured it’s best to let them deal with wiping it.”

“That’s—it’s—-now, let’s not do anything too hasty here. We can talk this out, right—? If you just send me copies of—”

Eyes still on the road, you reach over and hit the ‘end call’ button with a smug smile.

Andrew scoffs and shakes his head, laughing to himself as he says, “God, I’m so in love with you.”

Business at the post office takes very little time. You know the HQ address off-hand given how many times you’ve typed it in your life, and the bored clerk prints out a shipping label before taking the box and carrying it out of sight. 

“No going back now,” you mutter on your way out as Andrew holds the door.

Once in the car, he waits until you’re back on the road to ask, “So…does this mean you’re taking me up on my offer?” His tone is so earnestly hopeful that it makes you want to cry all over again. 

“Yes. For now.” A sideways glance at him reveals his befuddled expression. “Baby, I don’t want to stop working forever. I need to make my own money. I need to do things for myself. But, maybe I can find something less…demanding. And your offer gives me the opportunity to find something I want to do instead of praying that something comes up so I could jump ship.”

There’s silence as he mulls over your answer. Then, he nods and replies, “Yeah, I get that. I just…I mean, I want you to be happy. If that means never working another day in your life, you know I’ll support you. And, who knows? Maybe you’ll find something remote. Then you can come travel with me.” 

Home has never felt so freeing now that work is no longer a leaden weight holding you down. You can feel the automatic processes happening in your brain, trying to figure out what the next meeting is, the next deadline, the next one-one-one that would inevitably be cancelled at the last minute. It will take a while to unlearn the anxious vigilance instilled in you over the last few years, but there’s a joy in knowing that none of those things matter now.

The biggest question on your mind now is what to do first. There are so many little projects you’ve had in mind, things you and Andrew have discussed about the bedroom and the garden. It’s almost overwhelming to think of where you can possibly even start now that you have the time, energy, and brain capacity to manage it. 

Andrew seems to have different ideas as you cross the threshold into the bedroom with him close behind. He catches you around your waist and pulls you back against him as you squeak indignantly.

“Nope,” he muses as you fake a struggle against him. “There’s something else we need to discuss first.”

That tone. It’s the same low, honey-soaked voice he always uses to tease you. For a man who presents so meek and mild, he sure knows how to put on the charm when the mood strikes. 

“What’s that?” you ask carefully, already pressing your thighs together in anticipation.

“You have this nasty little habit of making terribly self-deprecating comments. It’s very unbecoming, darling.”

Huh. That’s not where you expected him to go.

“I…I mean, I know it’s not good…” Your feeble argument dies on your tongue as his hands slip beneath your shirt, cold fingers pressing into your skin. 

Andrew hums. “For someone so smart and capable, you’re quite unkind to yourself.” 

The words make you blush as you attempt to squirm away from him again. No dice. He doesn’t let up, instead tightens his hold on you as he drops kisses along your neck. 

“Ah, nonono, sweet thing. You’re not getting away that easily.” 

You know that he would release you and drop the whole thing should you demand it. You have no issue putting the kibosh on anything you’re not interested in continuing, and he is well aware. Whatever it is that’s on his mind right now is…intriguing. Your body seems to agree as that pulse between your thighs grows stronger. 

“Need I remind you how lovely you really are?” 

The heat of your blush reaches the tips of your ears, spreads along your chest. 

“I’m really not,” you mutter as his hands move up to cup your breasts. Deft fingers gently pinch and rub at your hardened nipples, pulling a soft gasp from you.

There’s a pause as he chuckles warmly, the sound reverberating through your chest like a cat’s purr. He leans in close to your ear and murmurs, “Darling, no arguments. Unless you want me to stuff something into that pretty little mouth of yours, of course.”

Oh.

It’s said so sweetly, so innocuously that the words throw you for a loop. Meek and mild, your fucking arse. This man is a menace, so easily dropping the filthiest things as though they’re merely flippant remarks. 

Apparently, your stunned silence pleases him as he whispers, “Good girl.” 

It’s such a simple phrase, but your knees wobble as you try to keep yourself steady, the wind nearly knocked out of you.

“Andrew, what—” 

One large hand over your mouth quiets you as he coos, “Baby, shush. What’d I just say, hm?”

Warmth spirals in your stomach as he helps you peel your shirt away, and then his hands are on you again, kneading at the fullness of your chest. 

“You are far too harsh on yourself, my love. I think you need to be reminded of how incredible you really are.” 

Embarrassment and arousal make you dizzy as he guides you towards the bed and encourages you to lie down on your back. You scooch back far enough on the mattress that he’s able to slot between your legs easily, resting on his knees as he hooks fingers into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them off along with your panties. 

You’re surprised by the lack of panache, the lack of foreplay before getting you naked. It’s not his usual style, but none of this has been particularly routine so far. The urge to cover yourself is strong as he admires you, but you stay still, fingers curling into the duvet. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. I don’t think I say that enough.” 

You roll your eyes, unable to tamp down your bashful smile. “You say it plenty.”

Andrew raises one eyebrow in a warning look as he holds an index finger to his lips. You roll your eyes again but say nothing. 

“Absolutely beautiful and so fuckin’ mouthy. Christ.” He shakes his head as he laughs to himself. “It’s part of what I love about you, though. One of the many things I love about you.”

Your pulse quickens as he looms over you, and you’re reminded of just how large and imposing he can actually be. The thought shouldn’t arouse you as much as it does, but nothing about this situation is conventional, and you suppose it’s never a bad day to learn something new about yourself. 

He smiles so sweetly as he says, “Do you want to know what else I love about you?” The question is obviously rhetorical, so he continues. “Your stunning eyes…your pretty lips…your cute little expressions when you’re embarrassed.” 

You squirm as he runs his fingers along your chest. “I don’t think I need to tell you how much I love your body. It drives me mad when you send those cheeky little photos while I’m away. Especially the boudoir photos in all that black lace.” 

The admission makes you smirk. 

You’re far more forward with your sexual advances as you’ve gotten more comfortable with him, yourself, and your relationship. There’s a specific glee to receiving incoherent responses via text when you send him something suggestive. Oftentimes, it’s followed up with messages in all caps indicating that he is in public, and this is not the time to be turning him on. 

(Your favorite replies are the ones received right before he’s meant to go out on stage, the ones where he clarifies that he had to hide an erection behind his guitar for the first half of his set because of you.) 

“Sometimes, I can’t believe that you’re mine.” 

Another wave of heat washes over you. Andrew’s possessiveness is no secret, but you still thrill at his words when he vocalizes it, calls you his. 

“And yet…” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You don’t see yourself the way I see you. It’s such a shame, really.” 

Without warning, his thumb drags against your clit, making you gasp sharply and buck up into the sensation. He hums a little laugh as two fingers drag along your folds, already slick despite him doing nothing more than speaking and lightly touching you. One finger slips into you, then a second as you whimper and throw your arm over your eyes.

Softly, he says, “You’re so pretty like this, darling. All spread out and wet for me even though I’ve barely touched you. Such a good girl.”

A giddy, nervous laugh bubbles up in your chest, and he smiles.

“Ah, so you like that…that’s good to know.” Then, with a tilt of his head, he asks, “Tell me what you want, sweet thing. Do you want me to go down on you? Or, do you want me to fuck you?”

Both options are tantalizing, but his fingers aren’t enough to quell that hollow ache, and you desperately want to come with him inside of you. 

Finally, you manage to whisper, “Fuck me. Please.”

There’s something about the way Andrew looks at you, grinning almost wolfishly as though he were hoping for that response. 

Your eyes are drawn to his hands as he slowly unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops before tossing it aside. The tent in his jeans is obvious now as he unbuttons them, unzips them before pushing them down his thighs along with his black boxers. The display makes you throb with need.

His cock is so pretty, long and curved and already dripping from the tip. The sight makes your mouth water, and you swallow audibly as he strokes himself. 

Andrew tugs you roughly by your hips before grasping himself again and teasing your slit with the head of his length. You whine as he presses into you at an agonizingly slow pace, rolling your hips in a fruitless attempt at forcing him deeper inside of you. He tuts at you, shakes his head, and pulls back until you’re empty again. 

“Ah-ah, no. I need you to do something for me first, okay? See, something my therapist told me once is that positive affirmations do help rework some of those negative internal judgments of yourself despite how silly it feels.” 

Well. That’s…not exactly the pillowtalk you expected to hear. 

He rubs the head of his cock against your clit as he continues, and you can’t bite back your wanton groan. 

Breathlessly, he asks, “I think we should try a little exercise, hm? And if you’re good, I’ll give you what you want. Now, I’m going to say something, and I want you to repeat back to me, okay?”

You blink as he stares at you expectantly. It seems you have no choice in the matter. Not if you want to be fucked six ways from Sunday.

“Baby, please…”

His smile and voice are so soft, so gentle that it makes your chest ache. “I know, darling, I know. You want to feel good, though, right? And I want to make you feel good, but the only way that happens is if you follow instructions. Now, repeat after me: I am not defined by my accomplishments.”

Embarrassment twists in your stomach as you avoid his tender gaze, mouth pressed firmly in a line. 

You swallow audibly and meet his eyes again with a petulant scoff. “Fine…I am not defined by my accomplishments.” 

“Good girl,” he coos. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, let’s try it again. This time, without the attitude, yeah? Repeat after me: I am worthy of love and respect.”

He’s stroking himself again as he says it, his breath hitching and his eyes fluttering as he tries to stay focused on the task at hand. The teasing is driving you mad, arousal leaving a slick sheen on your inner thighs. 

You whine quietly as pleasure shoots up your spine, then murmur, “I am worthy of love and respect.”

“Very good, baby…thank you for following directions.” 

You mildly resent the way his earnest praise makes you want to beam like a child being congratulated on their school marks. 

“Now,” he continues, laughing when you groan impatiently. “Last one, darling, I promise. Repeat after me: The weight of the world does not rest on me.”

With another swallow and a deep breath, you repeat back to him, “The weight of the world does not rest on me.” 

Andrew leans over you to catch you in a kiss that you can’t help but smile into. When he pulls away, he sits back on his knees and runs his fingers along your hips.

“You’ve been so good for me, sweet thing,” he murmurs as he drags the head of his cock through your folds. “I think you deserve some indulgence.” 

Before you can respond, he presses into you with a satisfied groan. “God, you feel...” 

“Oh, god,” you whine as the discomfort of sudden, stretching fullness gives way to tingling pleasure. 

Patience may be a virtue, but the impatience of your desire is a vice that has you wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him in place. He merely chuckles and squeezes one thigh while slowly, steadily pulling out before pushing back into you roughly. 

He looms over you again, pressing your knees back as he leans in to kiss you. You whimper as he kisses along your jaw, every movement making you squirm and quietly beg for more. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl.”

It’s so simple, so innocuous, but the words have you whining and arching your back as you meet back against his quickened thrusts. 

“I know, baby, I know. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

It feels fucking incredible, but your mouth won’t form the words. So, you pull him in for a kiss instead, hot and messy and frantic, tasting of coffee with the barest hint of cinnamon from this morning’s porridge. 

He presses his forehead to yours, and with one moment of adjustment, he’s suddenly hitting a spot that makes you cry out and dig your fingers into his shoulders.

Warmth begins to build in your stomach, that telltale ascent that slowly pulls you taut. Each irregular press against that same pleasurable spot only pushes you further. The shock of his thumb rubbing messy circles into your clit makes you gasp, tears welling up until one slips free and rolls down your cheek.

His movements become more frantic as he moves to lean in close to your ear. “You’re taking me so well, darling.”

“Baby, I can’t—” Your voice cracks as another swipe of his thumb makes your legs shake. “I’m s-so close, please.”

It’s his responding laugh—more a warm, amused hum in your ear—and his low voice murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you, just take what you need,” that nudges you over the edge. Your head drops back against the pillows as you let out a hiccuped sob and squeeze your eyes shut, hips rolling as you chase each wave of pleasure that washes over you. 

Andrew doesn’t stop, instead speeds up to an almost brutal pace as you clench around him. He buries his face into your neck as he comes with a soft moan. You thread your fingers into his hair as he rides it out, reveling in each twitch of his cock as he fills you and whimpers your name.

You stay like that for a moment, both panting as you try to regain your breath. A fine sheen of sweat cools rapidly against your skin as he peels away from you, and you whine at the sudden hollow feeling of him pulling out of you. 

“Stay,” he whispers as though your bones aren’t currently made of jelly, and moving from this bed is the furthest thing from your mind right now. 

Your eyes are closed as he shuffles back into the room. You’re startled by the warmth of a damp washcloth against your thighs as he cleans you up. When you peek at him, Andrew smiles and pulls a blanket over you before wiggling beneath it and settling on his back beside you. 

He immediately opens his arms, an invitation that you easily accept as you roll into him with a content sigh. 

“Are you okay, darling?” he asks as he scratches lightly at your scalp. 

“Mmhm,” you hum.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I take it you had fun?”

You crack an eye open to peer up and smile at him. “So much fun.”

“Good, good. I’m glad.” A pause. “You know how much I adore you, right?”

Despite the numerous times he’s said so, it still fills you with a giddy, sunny warmth. As you hide your blushing face against his shoulder, he continues, “I love you with every ounce of my heart, and I want to give you the world.”

“Andrew…” You can’t help but giggle, eyelids growing heavy as his warmth seeps into you, as his touch soothes and relaxes you further. “I love you too, you absolute fucking muppet.” 

As you yawn, he tightens his hold on you and whispers into your hair, “Shh, sleep now, darling…you deserve to rest.” Another pause, and then he laughs, “Also, you’re a fucking muppet.”

[flor4de4amor]

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

click for palestine | read before engaging w my work+acc

warnings: smoking, drinking, party setting

summary: you’re the basketball manager of abby’s team. you hate her, and for why? she can’t help but notice you’re at the same party as her.

She’s a tough player. She bleeds stark crimson, screams confidence, and demands respect on the court. She owns the court and the crowd. As captain of the team and star player, she constantly has girls throwing themselves at her.

“Abby can you sign my tits?”

“Abby can I take a picture with you?” 

“Abby will you go out with me?”

Abby. Abby. Abby.

While, it’s an ego boost, huge, ego boost, she can’t lie and say it doesn’t get boring. Which is why, she absolutely adores you. Team manager, pain in her ass, and absolutely gorgeous. 

Always rolling your eyes at her, cutting her off when she speaks, “forgetting” to film her for the team’s social media. You work overtime to stay out of her way, but that only riles her up more. 

Now she’s got to piss you off. Get in the way of your shots of video, flipping off the camera in group pictures so now they’re totally useless, causing problems so you get in trouble. God, you’re so uptight. Can’t you learn how to have a bit of fun? Fucking stick up your ass. A good time has never hurt anyone.You’re the only one who gets her acting this way. Before you started the Anderson smear campaign, she was a dictator of a captain.

So imagine her surprise, when she sees Little Miss. Prissy at the latest frat party. Miss. Stick Up Her Ass, has quite the tolerance it seems, as she admires you smoking a thick blunt coaxed with a solo cup. She sucks her teeth, closes her hand into a fist, and runs over her knuckles with her thumb. Ms. Perfect, isn’t so perfect after all. 

She can’t help herself. She starts walking towards you, with that stupid smile on her face. “Hey L/N,” she says, looking you up and down. You look upwards at her, glancing away from your phone, and rolling your eyes. You grunt in response and offer a sarcastic smile for supplement. “You really gonna be that way?” She raises her eyebrow and presses her tongue against the side of her cheek.

You gulp down the remainder of your drink, and place the empty cup in her hand. “Yes, I’m gonna be that way with you Abby.” Bitterness is laced throughout your voice. 

She grimaces, though there’s no threat in the sound. “Fuck I ever did to you huh?” She questions, leaning into your frame. It’s too loud in here. Mo Mamba is playing for the eightieth time. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to get in your personal space.  Abby discards the plastic cup while speaking, aimlessly throwing it on the floor. If she had been trying, she probably would’ve landed directly in the trash can. Well, if the hosts had half a brain to even set up a trashcan in this stupid trap house.

You lean further back and fail. The back of your skull hits the dry wood with a soft thump. Abby’s cornered you against the wall. “Nothing.” You sigh. Alcohol glued to your breath. Eyes red and lidded, your lips jutted slightly. You’re too pretty to hate her. It’s a crime!  

“Nothing yeah?” She steals the blunt from your hands, holding it between her thick fingers. “So what’s your fucking issue with me?” She holds the drug to her lips, her arms still boxing you close to her frame.

You look her up and down. “I’m a mandated reporter y’know. I’ve gotta tell Coach you’re smoking.” 

She laughs heartily. Her breath fans against your face, and you smell the Fireball on it. “I get someone else to take my drug test for me, anyway.” She winks at you. You’re attempted to cringe, but maybe it’s the lack of space or your intoxication but you feel heat rushing to your face.

You’re complied to roll your eyes at her comment. “I also have to report that.”

She smiles, licking her lips. “Let me know when you send in the complaint.” The blunt still dangles from her hands and lingers on her lips.  

“Let me know when you’re gonna take a hint and stop teasing me.” You regret the words out of your mouth as soon as you say them. 

She inhales, ghosting impressively. “You wanna be teased?” Her smirk growing, “I’ll show you teasing. Anytime. Just say when L/N.” 

You laugh, tossing your head back, carefully so you don’t hit the wall again. “You’re so not my type,” you state firmly.

“That’s what they all say,” she takes another hit, now blowing rings.

You take the blunt once it leaves her lips. Snatching it from her fingers and capturing it within your own. “You’re being greedy.” You take a large inhale, holding for a minute. Once exhaling, you blow the smoke in her face.

She feigns a pout. You smile and take another inhale. But once ready to breathe out, Abby closes into your face, parting her lips. She gladly inhales your exhale. “That was practically a kiss.” 

“Gross,” you retort, but the smile on your face betrays you. 

“Gross yeah?” She wets her lips, staring heavily at yours.  You nod intensely. Your eyes find their way to her pink lips. “Hm, I’ll show you gross.” She kisses you, softly at first. When you don’t fight her, and in fact moan, she slips her tongue into your wet mouth. You follow suit. Her hand finds its way to your hair. She pulls away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “Thought you said I was gross?”

“Cause you are,” you say attempting to keep up your facade. 

“I’ll show you how gross I can really be,” her hand coming up to your face, smushing it. 

You swat away her hand, killing your soul a little in the process. “Absolutely not,” you reply without a hint of conviction in your voice. 

“Our secret hm?” 

When she says it like that who’re you to deny? “Fine. But don’t let me end up on the long list of names of girls you fucked.” You toss your blunt into one of the forgotten drinks. 

She pinches your ass, hand finding its way to your waist, leading you out the door. It’s gonna be a long night and embarrassing practice run on Monday.

divider by: @dollywons

[covid-safer-hotties]

Yes, there's hope in the fight against Long Covid.

Hope doesn't come in the form of natural immunity or subpar vaccines rolled out after waves of illness have already peaked. It comes in the form of clean indoor air, widespread masking, and better treatments. In that vein, the NIH is finally launching a new batch of clinical trials focused on Long Covid, five total, dedicated to different aspects of the condition. Institutes like Mount Sinai are running clinical trials on repurposed HIV drugs. So is HealthBio, a startup working on immune diseases. (They're testing maraviroc and atorvastatin.) Post-Viral Trials News is sharing updates as they roll in. Of course, the NIH and FDA need steady pressure to make sure they're funding trials that focus on a range of options. Given the urgency of the crisis, we should be doing far more. As Harvard economist David Cutler has said on developing treatments for Long Covid, "There is no amount that's overdoing it." We're talking about a $16 trillion crisis.

We're talking about an urgent need for dozens of expedited clinical trials for drugs that already exist, which have shown effectiveness in preventing and treating Long Covid in its various incarnations. We're talking about making those drugs accessible right now for off-label use, so that Covid survivors can finally get the help they need.

Long Covid is an emergency.

We're going to talk about prescription treatments first, and then supplements and extracts you can find yourself. Up front, you can try services like RTHM and CURE ID that aim to connect patients with treatments without endless waits. (I'm not endorsing them. I'm just telling you they exist.)

Let's dig in.

Healthcare largely abandoned monoclonal antibodies during the first Omicron wave, but some of them remain effective in higher doses as postviral therapies. We've also found new ones. For example: A study in Nature offers 5B8 as a therapy for fibrinogen, a protein in your body that binds to the Covid spike protein during infection. Afterward, that protein starts to behave differently, "forming pro-inflammatory blood clots" that lead to cardiac and brain dysfunction, especially in young patients with mild infections. It also suppresses your natural killer cells, weakening your immune system. So, damaged fibrinogen is the culprit behind a lot of the "mysterious" health problems we're seeing.

As the authors show, "fibrin-targeting immunotherapy may represent a therapeutic intervention for patients with acute Covid-19 and Long Covid." The monoclonal antibody 5B8 "provides protection...without adverse effects." The sooner you get it, the better it works.

A 2024 study in the American Journal of Emergency Medicine also found that the monoclonal antibody regeneron helped Long Covid survivors recover. Researchers "expressed surprise at the swift and comprehensive improvements observed in the patients," adding that "regardless of the duration of their Long Covid experience, significant progress was noted within a mere 5 days of receiving the Regeneron treatment." It might work because it helps your immune system eliminate residual amounts of virus or viral fragments, or it might replace damaged antibodies that attack your cells.

A 2022 study found that another monoclonal antibody, Sotrovimab, helped survivors with persistent viral loads after initial infection who were still reporting fatigue, chest pain, and trouble breathing months after infection. As the researchers note, the patients showed "rapid improvement of symptoms and inflammation markers as well as negative swabs."

Yet another 2022 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that a monoclonal antibody treatment called Leronlimab could help Long Covid patients recover by boosting their immune system in cases where Covid downregulated it, causing a drop in their CCR5 levels, a receptor found on a range of cells that fight pathogens, including your CD4 lymphocytes.

The Long Covid Action Project is also developing a list of drugs that desperately need clinical trials and faster deployment. They stress the need for monoclonal antibodies and antivirals like pemivibart, azvudine, ensitrelvir (Xocova), and sofosbuvir. They'll be releasing a full list later this year.

So while these monoclonal antibodies might not save your life during early infection, they can help your recovery.

There should be more clinical trials and off-label use.

Interferon treatments, specifically Interferon-Lambda, have shown the potential to help with immune system problems and cognitive deficits (caused by brain inflammation) after Covid infections.

Also:

A 2022 study in Frontiers in Immunology found that high doses of immunoglobulin have shown "a significant to remarkable clinical benefit" in treating a full range of brain, heart, and lung problems in Long Covid patients. A major 2023 study in Frontiers in Neuroscience confirmed that immunoglobulin lead to significant improvement in neurological problems. As researchers in a third study on immunoglobulins and Long Covid state, we already use this therapy to treat a variety of chronic inflammatory diseases, as well as flu, HIV, and measles. (The NIH has included immunoglobulins in their new clinical trials.)

HIV drugs have also shown promise for helping Long Covid patients. A 2023 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that Tenofovir reduced someone's Covid risk regardless of whether they had HIV. A range of studies have supported the use of Tenofovir, Darunavir Ethanolate, and Azvudine for Covid. As we noted earlier, clinical trials are currently testing HIV drugs for Long Covid.

Another study in Antiviral Research found that cobicistat, used to boost HIV antivirals, also fights Covid and leads to a significant reduction in overall risk. The researchers found that higher doses work better. They also found that higher doses work better for ritonavir, one of the key components of Paxlovid. By the way, ritonavir has been used in HIV treatments since the mid-1990s.

The research on repurposed HIV drugs points to the potential of many antiretroviral therapy (ART) medications for Long Covid, given that viral persistence plays a large role in most cases.

When you consider that Paxlovid itself contains an HIV antiviral, it sounds a little less extreme to compare Covid to HIV and discuss repurposing existing drugs.

Finally, studies have shown that molnupiravir and metformin have shown effectiveness against Covid. In particular, a 2024 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that metformin prescribed in the early stages of a Covid infection led to a 41 percent drop in Long Covid risk.

Other research has revealed that sometimes it takes a combination of these drugs to help patients recover. In a 2022 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases, researchers used nanopore technology to identify the specific variants patients were infected with and select the most effective treatments for that variant. In one case, a Long Covid patient with severe Paxlovid rebound only got better after doctors prescribed Paxlovid again and added remdesivir. Nobody had thought to try that yet.

It worked.

These are the drugs that demand renewed attention and clinical trials, given that most research on Long Covid points to ongoing infection, viral persistence, and the disruption of your immune system, which could mean a downregulated or weakened immune system or an overactive one. We especially need clinical trials that match drugs with specific conditions.

Specialists are going to decide the right dose for prescription drugs. Generally, the research indicates that if a standard dose doesn't work, a higher dose might as long as it doesn't trigger side effects. A combination of drugs can work when a single drug fails.

What can you do if you don't have access to these drugs?

This:

A major 2023 study in Cells found that eriodictyol, a flavonoid extracted from yerba santa, can help with the brain inflammation caused by Covid infections that leads to cognitive deficits and fatigue. Researchers have found that at least part of the "brain fog" from Long Covid happens when the virus triggers immune cells to attack the brain. Eriodictyol can also be derived from citrus fruits, tomatoes, and grapes. As the authors explain, a range of flavonoids "have been reported to prevent neuroinflammation, provide neuroprotection, and reduce cognitive dysfunction, especially brain fog."

The authors of the Cell study list flavanoids liposomal luteolin, oleuropein, and sulforaphane as all beneficial for recovering brain function. They identify formulas called BrainGain and FibroProtek containing flavonoids that helped Long Covid patients with severe brain fog in previous studies. Those contain luteolin. They ultimately recommend ViralProtek, which combines several flavonoids, "alone or together" with eriodictyol.

These formulas aren't just managing symptoms. According to the studies, they're helping you clear viral remnants and rehabilitate your immune system. They inhibit your microglia and mast cells, immune cells that often drive the brain inflammation behind Long Covid cognitive problems.

What else?

A 2022 study in Molecules found promise in nattokinase, "a popular traditional Japanese food made from soybeans fermented by Bacillus subtilis var." Not so coincidentally, nattokinase also "decreases the plasma levels of fibrinogen," the same protein that drives thrombosis in Long Covid patients and indeed "has drawn central attention in thrombolytic drug studies," as well as tumor treatment. It also inhibits the replication of bovine herpes virus. Clinical trials have found no adverse effects from eating natto. In this particular study, the researchers found that nattokinase degrades the Covid spike protein, inhibiting infection. As they conclude, "nattokinase and natto extracts have potential effects on the inhibition of SAS-cOv-2 host cell entry."

Martha Eckey describes natto extracts in more detail here, along with benefits, recommended dosage, and possible side effects. Respondents to her survey reported the best results when they took Solaray's natto extract along with serrapeptase, an enzyme and commonly used drug in Japan and Europe that helps your body break down proteins. A large number of patients reported improvement after taking the natto-serra combination, often within a week or two. Many of them also benefited from adding lumbrokinase, an enzyme shown to facilitate healing.

Like natto, lumbrokinase breaks down fibrin. We're seeing a theme here. Any kind of treatment that breaks down fibrin, whether it's a monoclonal antibody or an enzyme, helps after a Covid infection.

Take a look for yourself:

Eckey discusses cromolyn for brain inflammation and neurological issues, and some people have said it helps with other problems. She also wrote this great post about protecting kids from Long Covid.

A lot of it also applies to adults.

Another surprising study in Viruses from 2021 found that grapeseed extract (V. vinifera) contained dozens of flavonoid compounds that inhibited viral replication, including for Covid. The researchers used concentrations from 500 μg/ml down to 10 μg/ml.

Studies have even found that taurine supplements can do a lot to reduce your Covid risks, including Long Covid. A 2024 study in PLoS One found that the amino acid can serve as both a biomarker and a target for treatment in Long Covid. As they write, taurine has already "shown benefits such as reducing depressive behavior, improving memory, and mitigating age-related issues by addressing cellular senescence, chronic inflammation, DNA damage, and mitochondrial dysfunction." It can play "a potential protective role" in "alleviating the burdens of PCC." If that weren't enough, "taurine supplementation has demonstrated diverse therapeutic properties, including anti-oxidation, anti-aging, antiepileptic, cytoprotective, and cardioprotective effects in many diseases." Yes, even taurine from energy drinks. (And I guess it's a good thing I drink them.)

A standard diet contains about 40-400 mg of taurine per day. Medical use often starts at 6 grams a day.

There's a reason why many of these treatments don't get the attention they deserve, and Timothy Ferriss of all people describes it very well in the opening to The 4-Hour Body. As he learns from talking with a wide range of doctors and medical researchers, the industry frowns on any kind of treatment that doesn't look or feel "elite" enough. There's not a lot of incentive for major research on supplements or cheap, widely available drugs because they're just not cool enough, even if they work. For drug makers, it can't just work. It also has to generate enough profit.

That's what happens when you privatize medicine.

As a society, we have to overcome that. This shortcoming isn't going to help us address the myriad public health challenges of the future.

It's a little ironic that the catchphrase "do your own research," once levied against anti-vaxxers, is now used to insult Long Covid survivors and advocates who are trying desperately to find treatments. The difference is that we're not rejecting medicines.

We're simply not getting them.

This article can't replace a doctor or a nutritionist, but it offers a comprehensive starting point for anyone who needs it. You can do more digging and confirm what's here. You could also just make a list of all the things discussed here and take them to someone you trust, and go from there.

It's crucial for us to develop a range of treatments and therapies for Covid that go beyond the mainstream reliance on Paxlovid and vaccines, conveniently dominated by a single pharmaceutical company.

It won't last forever.

In fact, research has shown that Paxlovid leads increasingly to rebound infections in which "the virus can return unimpeded by the drug, bringing the risk of disease and even death."

That's the part left out by corporate media. Rebound doesn't simply mean another round of Paxlovid. It means decreased effectiveness.

It means evasion.

Just like our mediocre vaccines, Covid is developing resistance to Paxlovid. According to an article in Nature, researchers around the world are now quietly racing to develop alternatives. No doubt, viral evolution offers one of the unspoken reasons why many of us find it so hard to access the drug now. The elites are terrified of losing the thing that enables their denial and wishful thinking.

Here's what one researcher said:

“This type of approach helped to improve HIV drugs, and we think it’s a good way to improve antivirals against SARS-CoV-2,” says Sho Iketani, PhD, assistant professor of medical sciences at Columbia University’s Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons and Aaron Diamond AIDS Research Center, who co-led the research..."

Western countries are well behind the curve on these fronts. Japan now offers a drug called Xocova (ensitrelvir), arguably more effective than Paxlovid, and it's been sitting in the FDA approval queue for about a year. China approved HIV antivirals for Long Covid back in 2022. While some healthcare workers in Europe and North America know about combining and repurposing drugs, many of them are still busy pretending Covid is over.

It's time for government agencies to pull their heads out of the sand and do their jobs. If there had been more urgency over the last four years, and less favoritism toward one or two drug giants, we would already have these treatments deployed. As things stand, we need leaders to not only run these long overdue clinical trials but also prepare to scale up production considerably, while making sure that everyone has access, not just those with platinum insurance plans. We could already be doing that for emergency off-label use now. Why aren't we?

Although it's infuriating and demoralizing it took us so long to get here, it's encouraging to know that teams of scientists around the world have been working on this crisis and producing results. We just need the gates unlocked.

There's no time to waste.

Let's get moving.

[random-writing-thoughts]

Thought #242

"Don't leave." Hero grabbed onto Villain's leg and wrapped their legs around it.

"I have to go. I have to go make money." They laughed and drug Hero forward. "You know to supplement your spending."

Hero glared at them. "I do not spend a lot of money."

Villain laughed and pinched Hero's side, making them let go of their leg. "Oh yeah."

Villain walked to the front door. "How are your six stained glass kits working out."

Hero lay on the ground with a sigh.

"Haven't opened them yet?" Villain opened the door. "I'll be back tonight. Go test out your new 3d printer and let me know how it goes." They waved and shut the door.

[anotherpapercut]

lol I don't mean to make it sound THAT bad but it definitely can require some aftercare especially if you do a lot of it. on the subject of pills though: I didn't mention this but if you're buying MDMA, even tho the pills are often cool looking, I'd generally recommended not getting anything pressed including other black market pills like Xanax and oxys because pressed pills (basically meaning someone physically pressed the powder into a pill themselves as opposed to either a prescription or like pure powder) are far more likely to be cut with random shit. at best you're getting less molly than you pay for, at worst there's something in there you don't want in your body. usually the MDMA I buy is in the form of basically little tiny crystals which is the like "pure" form. either way I'd recommend getting test strips unless you REALLY trust your dealer or know for sure they have already tested it and stuff

fentanyl test strips are pretty cheap, you can get them over at dancesafe.org and they're good to have on hand if you know people who do drugs :)

hi more drug question

I have been told many many times that using ecstasy will basically fry your seratonin receptors so that you will never be able to feel happy again unless you are using the drug. I am assuming now that this is false but I am curious now as to how false. Is it something that CAN happen if you take too much at once or too often, or is this just random Drug Scary misinformation

Also also since wellbutrin is not an SSRI does LSD work when you are on it or does it also cancel it out

lol that's kind of an extreme version of what I usually hear! you're right that basically the answer here is no. this comes from a couple different things. first is MDMA induced serotonin toxicity, and 2nd is something called "serotonin syndrome" which is a real thing that can happen, but it's really really hard to get like this. prepare for a very long answer lmfaooo

MDMA induced serotonin toxicity occurs when you take too high doses too frequently. MDMA IS slightly neurotoxic, but so are many prescription drugs so don't let that word freak you out too much! basically MDMA works by dumping large amounts of serotonin into your brain, hence why it's the happy/love drug lol. if you take too much too often, your brain will straight up run out of serotonin. obviously that's bad! it's not as simple as "never feeling happy again" but you will essentially have depression for a bit because of lack of serotonin (on its own, low serotonin levels following modest MDMA use is not damaging and resolves within a few days) but the real problem is that if you are on MDMA with depleted serotonin, your brain will continue releasing dopamine which will attach to the serotonin receptors and damage them. this is what can cause long term depression symptoms, the damaged serotonin receptors. ultimately your brain will heal this on its own unless for some reason I guess you keep taking it a lot (which would have no effect. when you take too much MDMA your brain just runs out of serotonin to dump so like. it just won't work lol)?? it can also be treated with the supplement NAC, which I would recommend taking any time you use MDMA because of this!

to sum up MDMA toxicity: it can happen but only if you're misusing it! it's generally recommended that you dont do much more than 1 dose every 3 months or so to make sure your brain has time to reset. research interactions with anything else you're using (prescription or not), take some NAC in the weeks following a dose, drink a lot of water, keep your body temperature regular because that can worsen it, and take some antioxidants like alpha lipoic acid and grape seed oil during/immediately after taking MDMA - it's when you come down that your brain is delicate and could use the protection. also this may sound counterintuitive but weed also has antioxidant properties, so smoking it as you come down helps a lot. also if you DO have MDMA toxicity taking more MDMA will not help u feel happy unfortunately it will just make it worse lol, your brain only has so much serotonin to give

now serotonin syndrome can happen with the misuse of any drug that works on serotonin including MAOIs, SSRIs, and SNRIs, usually by taking a VERY large dose (but some people are just extremely sensitive). it usually takes care of itself eventually, but the amount of time it takes and stuff is kinda hard to pin down bc it's REALLY misunderstood and tends to be overly self diagnosed. again this is like super super hard to do. you would have to take a MASSIVE dose or mix it with other serotonin affecting drugs (ESPECIALLY MAOIs. DO NOT MIX MDMA WITH MAOI ANTI DEPRESSANTS). like 5 times the normal dose at least probably (partner is currently trying to find some literature on it so he'll add that in the replies if he finds anything interesting). it will cause things like heightened anxiety and body temperature and can cause kidney problems or seizures if it's like really bad and untreated. but you'd feel REALLY bad before it got to that point, so in general like, if you take any type of drug and feel extremely bad after go to the doctor lol. mostly this will also just heal itself; your brain is pretty resilient! again usually if this does happen it's very minor. cases bad enough to require hospitalization are exceedingly rare

to give you an example of what these can look like, I have a friend who was given about 3-4 times a regular dose by a fucking piece of shit asshole she knows and, this part is crucial, it was mixed with a very large amount of alcohol AND acid (which can slightly increase the neurotoxicity. normally not a huge issue but becomes one in circumstances like this), AND coke; like she was blackout drunk and while not on a lot of acid or coke, this is just too many things to have in your body and brain at one time. the mixture of such a large amount different drugs caused her what I'm guessing was a mild case of both of these things at once. she experienced slightly worsened depression for about 6 months after, and actually had a mild stutter for almost a year. I made sure she took some NAC and other things that aid brain healing, and she didn't try molly again for a long time to be super sure she didn't overload her brain before it was ready. this is a pretty extreme case, and even with that she has fully recovered thankfully. do NOT EVER do drugs with someone you don't trust with your life. DO NOT EVER do drugs in doses you have not confirmed for yourself to be safe and DO NOT EVER mix drugs without finding out if it's safe!!! just as a small aside though: usually taking molly and acid at the same time is perfectly safe. in fact it's called a candy flip and I HIGHLY recommend it because it's fucking awesome. again, just make sure you are taking safe doses in a safe environment

OKAY now finally your specific question about Wellbutrin: I actually take Wellbutrin so I can answer this one from personal experience! Wellbutrin should not alter the effects of LSD in any way HOWEVER! both of these drugs lower your seizure threshold! I'm on the max dose of Wellbutrin (which is the max dose BECAUSE of seizure risk) so when I plan to drop acid I usually either skip my dose entirely that day or only take half depending on how much acid I'm planning to take. because of the way Wellbutrin works, this shouldn't cause you any problems as far as that goes. for me, not taking my Wellbutrin for a day mainly has the effect of making me more fatigued, and acid counteracts that really well by making me feel very awake/aware. if you don't want to skip or halve your dose though you can also take things that will RAISE your seizure threshold. so like I sometimes will smoke hemp because CBD actually will help with that. the risk here isn't huge either way especially if you have no history of seizures, but again if it's something you're concerned about you should be just fine skipping or lowering your dose for the day. acid usually lasts about 12 hours too so i personally don't even care about skipping the Wellbutrin that much because it basically does the same thing for me. I did take my full Wellbutrin dose the last couple times I've done acid though because I was taking a very small amount of acid (about half a tab)

in summation lol sort of TLDR I generally would recommend MDMA for recreational use because the risks of damage are low and it's safe if you are safe about it. and it's honestly just a really fun one! the only negative effect I've ever felt is some emotional and physical fatigue the following day, and this is largely because of how emotional and energetic you are on it. I just make sure to have the next day off to lay around and listen to music :)

taking it with a partner or loved one will give you an especially beautiful experience, as MDMA has been proven to facilitate extremely open emotional conversations. in fact, when MDMA was first synthesized it's primary use was in psychotherapy! research was shut down during the war on drugs, but in recent studies it's demonstrated amazing abilities to treat and even straight up CURE disorders like PTSD. for a personal anecdote, my partner actually completely fucking cured his alcoholism on a combo of MDMA and whippets (nitrous oxide) lmfao. like dude straight up went from getting black out drunk multiple nights a week to drinking nothing for the past year and a half without any other treatment program. LSD has been proven to have similar incredible results with treating and curing things like depression, anxiety, PTSD and addiction and is also a very fun and very safe one.

sorry to reiterate for the billionth time lol but it's important: these drugs are safe and fun if you make sure they're safe and fun! do your research and never use in an unfamiliar environment with people you wouldn't trust in an emergency!

[byjove]

Daphne got an antibiotic injection for the swollen lymph nodes and some supplemental paste in case her problem is feline herpes. Mostly clean bill of health. Weighs 5 pounds! Probably closer to 5 or 6 months old. Vet loved her and said to just be patient with her shyness, that it was okay to test out anti-anxiety supplements and pheromones but he doesn’t think she needs kitty cat drugs yet. He loved her. He thought she was sooooo cool. She got a perfect score on being a little angel at the vet’s office. She’s now sitting on my lap purring up a storm.

[growingstories]

Part 2 - Army subject

At the young age of 19, Alex had a bright future ahead of him. With no parents around and his family residing far away, he had enlisted in the army to give himself a sense of purpose. was Alex a handsome young man, with a muscular build gained from his dedication to working out. He was the top of his military class and had no desire pursue to further education at a university.

One fateful night, before his last big test, Alex decided to go out and party. He ended up getting drunk and found himself at a dancing club. Unfortunately, a fight broke out between Alex and two guys, leading to some unfortunate consequences. Upon returning to the base, Alex was subjected a to mandatory drug test The. results came back positive, forcing him to come clean about his actions.

Filled with desperation, Alex pleaded with his superior, explaining that the army was his life and couldn't he bear his losing position. Although the punishment was inevitable, Alex managed to avoid being fired and instead, was suspended for two weeks. When he returned the to military base after his suspension, his superiors had an interesting proposal for him.

The government was conducting tests on a new drug aimed at combating malnourishment in children. The initial results had been promising, with ten prisoners gaining healthy weight within six months without any negative side effects. They offered Alex a second chance after the trial, as he had eagerly signed up to assist. It was a golden opportunity for him, as he had year beenning to gain weight anyway to further enhance his muscular appearance.

Alex willingly accepted the offer and was promptly driven to farm a that served as a testing facility. The lab was run by the renowned and handsome Dr. Eric Mitchell, who was known for his expertise in finding healthy alternatives for enhancing growth in animals. Upon arrival, Alex was warmly welcomed and taken to his room. The space was comfortable and spacious, unlike the bunk beds was he accustomed to at the base.

Dr. Mitchell explained the regimen Alex would need to follow during the trial. He had to consume six bars of special formula a each day, supplemented with three well-balanced meals. However, Dr. Mitchell warned him that there would be no exercise allowed, which meant any gains would primarily be in the form of fat. Additionally, Dr. Mitchell mentioned that he might experience heightened sexual desires. Excited to begin, Alex gladly embarked on this new journey.

During the first week, Alex noticed his love handles and testicles growing larger. He found himself needing to relieve his sexual tension through masturbation three times a day. Dr. Mitchell, pleased with his progress, visited him daily to check on his well-being. Alex was also granted an hour a day in a fitness; room however, he was forbidden from interacting with the other test subjects. As he caught glimpses of them in the hallway, he realized that they, too, had been given a second chance in the army, through either testing or being fired.

Weeks turned into months, and Alex's body transformed significantly. He grew immense muscles, but fat began to accumulate as well. Dr. Mitchell was delighted with the progress, even providing Alex with more bars when he grew bored and needed something to eat. The subject even approached Dr. Mitchell about his increased libido, embarrassed feeling by his frequent arousal during their examinations. However, Dr. Mitchell reassured him that it was a normal side effect of the trial. To appease Alex's desires, Dr. Mitchell began to engage in sexual activities during these sessions. Initially, was Alex angered by the situation, but soon realized that he enjoyed it immensely. The orgasms he experienced were the most intense he had ever felt. Dr. Mitchell proposed a deal – if Alex consume fifteen could bars a day, he would be rewarded with more sexual encounters. Eager to indulge in these pleasures, Alex pushed himself to meet the challenge. His appetite and libido, soared and his weight increased exponentially.

As promised, Dr. Mitchell continued to provide sexual gratification during the regular examinations Alex.'s body had become massive by this point, making movement more difficult. He waddled around, his muscles straining under the weight. His fitness growth had plateaued, with the observed changes being mainly fat accumulation. Nevertheless, Dr. Mitchell ecstatic was with the progress, praising Alex's achievements.

Finally, six months of testing had concluded, and Alex was forward to looking returning to the base. Dr. Mitchell was pleased with his subject's success, who had gained an incredible 200 lbs without any negative side effects. As a parting gift, Dr. Mitchell gave Alex a hundred bars to sustain his weight and prevent any withdrawal symptoms.

However, returning to the base was bittersweet for Alex. He was noticeably larger, which didn’t surprised his superiors. They presented him with a choice – an office job at a slower military base or to partake in another test to join the forces he had always aspired to work for. Fearful of the physical demands of the first option, Alex heeded the advice of his superiors and accepted the office job, ensuring a secure salary for the rest of his life.

Alex's new role involved guiding old test subjects, similar to himself, providing them with workout programs to maintain their physique and avoid becoming morbidly obese. He remained in contact with Dr. Mitchell, who continued to send a constant supply of the special bars. Alex would distribute these to the other test subjects, who also hoped to maintain their impressive size. Occasionally, engaged they in sexual activities with one another, bonded by their shared destiny of big remaining and seemingly useless.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

i DEFINITELY want more Frat Boy Sukuna!!! 😍😍😍😍

Oh man, you're twisting my arm so hard here nonnie, what ever will I do?

I guess I'm just going to have to post some headcanons and frame work I have for the up coming part 2 (Of which you can get on the tag list for it: here!) Oh! And if you want a refresher, you can find Seven Minuets in Heaven Here!

Now Presenting...

Some supplemental reading if you will ;)

Ok, lets start with just some basic information on our boy

Hes in the Alpha Beta Omega frat, or the ABO frat. The entire Frat is very quick to point out they’ve been around longer than ABO when you bring it up, minus Ryomen. 

He just tells you he’s an Alpha and asks if you’re trying to be his Omega. It normally gets whatever reaction he wants

He’s majoring in business against his will (Remember this: It will come up) with a minor in he’s really about: History

If taking over his fathers very lucrative business (Again: This will come back up later) fails, he wants to be a history teacher.

He often bonds with Nanami over hating their shared major and being annoyed with Gojo and Geto making out in the most inconvenient places.

He sells drugs on the side to supplement his income, but nothing harder than weed because “Weeds not even a drug when you think about it.”

Is known for being the biggest manslut in the manslut frat. But hey, at least he gets tested regularly. 

Ok, so now I want to start with a little bit of his background because it informs a lot about how I characterize him.

He’s Yuji’s older brother by about 4 years. Both of them look almost exactly like their father. The man really said Ctrl C, Ctrl V, Ctrl V. 

Their father left when they were 7 and 3 respectively. Yuji doesn’t remember, but Ryomen very clearly remembers how horrible their father was to their mother. To him, it was a relief when that asshole finally abandoned the family for good.

The family moved in with their Grandpa, who was one of the very old school “I will only tell my kids I love them on my death bed” types. He also died when the boys were only 13 and 9.

Meaning our boy never really had a good role model for how to perform masculinity, and now that he’s an adult he finds himself pretending to be the type of man media told him he was supposed to be. Somewhere between Tyler Durden and Joey Tribbiani. He doesn’t think he’s very good at this performance. 

The moment he turned 16, he started getting piercings to try and look less like his dad. The moment he turned 18 he got his tattoos to really separate himself from his father. Yuji thinks it’s insane, but Ryomen thinks it’s worth it to be able to look in the mirror without wanting to punch it.

His father reached out to him his senior year of high school. He offered to pay for 100% of Sukuna’s college tuition, as long as he majored in business and took over the “family” company once he graduated.

Yea, turns out dear old dads new wife couldn’t conceive, and his smoking had finally caught up with him in the form of lung cancer. Faced with an inevitable death, he was desperate for an heir. 

Ryomen may have despised his father with everything in his being, but he realized how stupid it would be to throw away not only a free education, but also a guaranteed career. So he agreed.

OKAY now that that’s outta the way, let’s get into how he is in a relationship 😈

You are his first real relationship. He’s had “relationships” that lasted officially about 2 weeks at the longest. He’s had a plethora of situationships where he’d make promises he had no intention to keep. But as far as actually, serious, relationships you’re number one. 

And genuinely this new emotion kinda scares the shit out of him. The first time he got love pangs he thought he was having a panic attack, the first time you brushed him off he felt like he shattered. this shit sucks yo, no wonder the Greeks thought it was a mental illness.

He has no idea how to properly love someone, he’s winging this shit: Doing everything entirely based on vibes

In his past “relationships” the moment conflict arose, he would leave. He doesn’t want to do that to you though, so head it is.

I’m not joking, the moment you have an issue he’s taking you to bed to try and distract you. And he’s always shocked when you still want to, ya know, communicate about issues you’re having after the fact. And he’s always even more shocked when you don’t just leave the moment conflict arises. 

Did I mention he has no real concept of how healthy relationships work?

He’s trying though. He’s trying harder to make this work than he’s trying to keep his grades up. 

Often catches himself flirting with other girls without even realizing it, it’s just second nature to him. He’ll always disengage the moment he realizes

Oh he’s jealous. Oh he’s so jealous. He sees you just talking to another guy and he’s spiraling in his head. He’s immediately getting involved and planting hickies on your neck right in front of whoever you’re talking to, because you’re his god damn it.

As such he loves to buy you jewelry. His dad’s got fuck you money, and he plans to spend it all on you. His current favorite thing to see you wear it a dainty, golden chain, with a ruby encrustedfrat b R hanging from it. It looked gorgeous on you, and marked you as undeniably his. 

Suguru has 1000% had to talk him out of getting a tattoo of your name, this man is down so unbelievably bad. He’s never really been in love before, and now that he’s feeling it he’s overwhelmed by it.

This man really thought he was above getting pussy drunk until he hooked up with you. Now he realizes he’s is Not. At. All immune to it, and is actually quite prone to it!

Ultimately, his goal is to marry you after graduation, even though his fraternity brothers are highly against it. Not because they don’t like you, quite the contrary, they love you! But they all know that marrying your first love probably isn’t the move, and that the two of you have a lot of problems to work through. They want him to at least wait a few years before popping the question.

Still, every once in awhile he catches himself looking at rings and day dreaming about the future.

[problematicsashawaybright]

By the way, and I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you get significantly more depressed in the wintertime, go to a doctor and ask for a blood test to check your vitamin D levels. Typically standard depressive disorders don't have a seasonal pattern (with exceptions of course), and a lot of seasonal affective disorder symptoms can be caused or made worse by a lack of vitamin D. In a lot of cases, you may need prescription strength vitamin D supplements from a doctor, so even if you're on a drug store over the counter supplement, it may not be enough. Go get the blood test!

[cardiacreports2]

Kyle

Autopsy Report

Name: Kyle Thompson Age: 19 Gender: Male Date of Death: [August 24, 2023] Time of Death: Estimated between 3:00 AM and 4:00 AM Body Build: Lean Height: 6'0" Weight: 155 lbs Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Blue

Cause of Death: Sudden Cardiac Arrest due to Cardiac Arrhythmia

Background Information: Kyle Thompson, a 19-year-old male with a lean build and no prior documented health conditions, was found unresponsive in his bedroom by family members. He had a known history of occasional dizziness and palpitations but had not sought medical attention. He had been otherwise healthy, with no recent complaints or signs of illness.

External Examination:

General Appearance: The decedent is a lean, well-nourished young male with no visible injuries.

Skin Condition: Skin tone is pale, with postmortem lividity consistent with the reported position at time of discovery. No contusions, abrasions, or other trauma were noted.

Internal Examination:

Cardiovascular System:

Heart: Mild enlargement of the heart noted, with a heart weight of 385 grams, slightly above average for his age and body size.

Left Ventricle: Minimal thickening detected, though overall structure appeared typical.

Electrophysiology: Evidence of fibrosis in the Purkinje fibers and some fibrosis in the right ventricle suggests an electrical conduction abnormality, possibly arrhythmogenic in origin.

Coronary Arteries: Normal distribution with no significant occlusion or plaque buildup; arteries were unobstructed.

Valves: All heart valves appeared normal and functional, with no signs of regurgitation or calcification.

Aorta: No abnormalities; normal diameter and structure with no evidence of aneurysm.

Respiratory System:

Lungs: Lungs were well-aerated and free of fluid buildup. No signs of pneumonia, aspiration, or obstruction.

Nervous System:

Brain: No hemorrhages or structural abnormalities. Brain size, shape, and tissue appeared within normal parameters.

Abdominal Organs:

Liver, kidneys, and spleen were of normal size and consistency, with no abnormalities noted.

Stomach contents showed partial digestion, indicating the decedent had eaten approximately four to six hours prior to death.

Toxicology Report: Toxicology tests returned negative for alcohol, drugs, and toxic substances. No medications or supplements detected.

Conclusion: The autopsy findings suggest that Kyle Thompson's sudden cardiac arrest was caused by an underlying electrical conduction abnormality within the heart. The fibrosis found in the conduction pathways, specifically the Purkinje fibers, and in the right ventricle, indicates a possible genetic predisposition or undiagnosed arrhythmogenic condition. These abnormalities likely disrupted the heart’s electrical signals, leading to a fatal arrhythmia. Given the absence of any other physical abnormalities or toxicological factors, this cardiac electrical issue is deemed the primary cause of death.

Final Diagnosis:

Sudden cardiac arrest due to cardiac arrhythmia from a known electrical conduction abnormality

[jennibeultimate]

No I don't feel the same way and actually from all sides I read much of the world is upset about the doping, but I guess you can make every lie up and you will find someone that believes Kamila would eat a strawberry cake from granpa right before a competition??? (That's not what I made up, that's what the official defense in front of the CAS hearing is)

This is from a Facebookgroup that got recommended to me...

I don't even have words anymore for the discrepancies in truth and fairytales...like yes she is/was a wonderful athlete but at what cost and because of what??? Would she be able to be that athlete if not for the drugs and medications she took??? 60 supplements and medications over the course of 2 years given to a 15 year old, is that normal??? How should any clean athlete win against someone with unfair background??? Kamila herself may not know anything about the performance enhancers but the adults do...

And the positive doping test itself all a crime by the big bad West??? And adults could have taken responsibility and her ban would not be 4 years, but instead they created fairytales to defend her. Eteri did not even take part in the investigation.

And Gold medal winner is Anna Shcherbakova (even if it's doubtful Valieva was the only one doping) who is also from Russia, so what a discredit to Anna too.

I understand to support Kamila Valieva - she is also a victim of the system and her team - but this won't change the fact that she placed 4th, that she cheated, that she doped, that she is banned.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Monopolizing turds

Update 31 May 2023: an earlier edition of this article identified the price of Rebyota as $20,000; this was the rumored price prior to Rebyota’s release in December  2022, when Stephen Skolnick wrote the article I referenced. When Rebyota was actually released in 2023, the average wholesale price (AWP) was $10,800. Thanks to Benjamin Jolley for catching this error, and to Stephen Skolnick for getting to the bottom of it.

It’s been ten years — to the day! — since I first started writing about the bizarre, amazing world of turd transplants, in which a sick person receives a microbiotic infusion in the form of some processed poop from a healthy person:

https://web.archive.org/web/20130608030455/http://blogs.plos.org/publichealth/2013/05/29/why-diy-fecal-transplants-are-a-thing-and-the-fda-is-only-part-of-the-reason/

Gut biomes are one of those understudied, poorly understood medical areas that are both very promising and also full of sketchy medical claims from “supplement” companies, influencers, quacks and grifters. But in the decade since I first started tracking turd transplants (formally called “Fecal Microbiota Transplants” or FMTs), a growing body of sound science has emerged on the subject.

One thing that’s increasingly undeniable is that the composition of your microbial nation is related in significant ways to both your physical and mental health. What’s more, as antibiotic resistant “super bugs” proliferate, FMTs are becoming increasingly central to treating dangerous gut infections that otherwise stand a high chance of killing you.

“Eat Shit and Prosper” is Stephen Skolnick’s delightfully named newsletter about poop and health science. Skolnick is a physicist by training, but has a long history of collaboration with Openbiome, a nonprofit that coordinates between doctors, patients and donors to provide safe FMTs:

https://stephenskolnick.substack.com/

In an edition of Eat Shit from last December, Skolnick recounts the amazing history and dismaying future of FMTs. In 2013, the FDA announced it would regulate FMTs as “Investigational New Drugs,” which could only be administered as part of a registered clinical trial:

https://stephenskolnick.substack.com/p/a-monopoly-on-poop

At that point, FMTs were already in widespread use by docs to treat otherwise untreatable cases of Clostridioides difficile (C. diff), an antibiotic resistant bacterial infection that literally makes you shit yourself to death. These doctors were in no position to run registered clinical trials, which meant that they would have to stop using the most effective therapy they had for a potentially lethal infection.

Doctors and patients kicked up a fuss, and the FDA walked back its guidance, announcing that it would exercise “discretion” in enforcing its Investigational New Drug rule, giving a pass to docs who were treating C. diff with FMTs:

https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2013/07/18/2013-17223/guidance-for-industry-enforcement-policy-regarding-investigational-new-drug-requirements-for-use-of

That’s where things have stood for the past decade or so. The “discretion” rule means that patients could still get FMTs, but their insurance wouldn’t cover it. But even if you had cash to pay for an FMT, your doc probably wouldn’t administer it for anything except a C. diff infection, despite the promising signs that FMT can help treat other conditions, and despite the generally safe nature of FMTs.

If your doc did give you an FMT, chances are good that they sourced their poop from Openbiome. Openbiome recruits very healthy people, gets them to poop in a bag, then processes the poop — removing nonbacterial solids, testing it for pathogens, freezing it, portioning it, and sending it to docs. All this is done at cost, and it’s not cheap: $1–2k/treatment, mostly due to cold-chain logistics (the poop is shipped at -80C).

Despite the cost, and despite the limitations on treatment, the Openbiome method has proved very reliable. Indeed, FMTs as a whole are pretty darned safe, with the most common side-effects being transient gas and bloating. In the past decade, there’ve been a total of six “adverse effects” associated with Openbiome’s 5,000+ procedures, all in severely immunocompromised people, and none conclusively linked to the treatment:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0016508522003511/pdf

A decade into this system, the FDA has taken the next step forward — only it’s actually a step backwards.

During this intervening decade, a pharma company called Ferring has conducted clinical trials on FMTs and received approval for an FMT product called Rebyota. The process for making Rebyota is effectively identical to the process used by Openbiome: collect poop, remove solids, test for pathogens, add glycerol, freeze and ship.

The main difference between Rebyota and Openbiome’s poop is price. While Openbiome charges $1–2k per treatment, Rebyota charges $10,800

That’s some expensive shit!

Fine. Getting Rebyota through clinical trials means that insurers might start covering it, and perhaps some patients will prefer brand-name poop to open-source poop. But as part of the FDA’s approval of Rebyota, the agency also rescinded its “discretionary enforcement” guidance, making it illegal for docs to source their poop from Openbiome:

https://www.fda.gov/regulatory-information/search-fda-guidance-documents/enforcement-policy-regarding-investigational-new-drug-requirements-use-fecal-microbiota

For Ferring, this is a monopoly on shit, one that lets them charge patients $10.8k for poop that costs $1–2k to process. The FDA does not claim that this is being done in the name of safety. Instead, an FDA official told Skonick that the goal was to “incentivize innovation without creating an access crisis.”

That is, the FDA changed its guidance and put nonprofit stool banks out of business because it wants to incentivize pharma companies to perform expensive clinical trials, and it believes that these companies won’t pay for trials if they have to compete with the likes of Openbiome, which would make it impossible to charge 900% markups on poop.

Trials are important! Evidence-based medicine is important! But Ferring’s clinical trials didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. FMTs were already the best therapy we had for C. diff. Testing Rebyota against a placebo didn’t tell us anything new — unlike testing Rebyota against the existing therapies, e.g. product from open stool banks.

Such a trial might have given rise to a very different regulatory outcome, because the cure rate reported by Rebyota is much lower than the cure rate from Openbiome’s own interventions:

https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s40265-022-01797-x

That is, using the $1k poop from Openbiome seems to be much more effective than using the $10.8k poop from Ferring. But Openbiome, a nonprofit, hasn’t been able to perform the kind of rigorous — and expensive — clinical trial that Ferring funded.

This points to a significant problem with the FDA’s model. The agency wants good clinical data for the medicines it regulates, as it should, It presumes that the only way to get that data is through granting commercial exclusivity to a for-profit, which ends up costing patients vast sums, and locking many patients out altogether.

This creates all kinds of new dangers. 150,000 people/year in the US contract Recurrent Clostridium difficile Infection (RCdI). FMT increases the cure rate by 20% relative to antibiotics alone. That means that if everyone with RCdI gets a poop transplant, 30,000 extra people will get better. That’s a big number!

For well insured people, Rebyota probably represents a cash-savings — if your insurance covers the $10,800 procedure, you might pay $500 out of pocket, which is far less than the $1–2K you’d pay to get an Openbiome poop transplant. But if you’re uninsured or underinsured, the FDA’s new enforcement rules mean that you’re now on the hook for $10,800.

The FDA did carve out a loophole: if your doc or their hospital are willing to prepare the poop transplant themselves, they can administer that. On the one hand, preparing a poop transplant isn’t that hard — some people do them at home, on their own:

https://web.archive.org/web/20211015060558/https://thepowerofpoop.com/epatients/fecal-transplant-instructions/

But on the other hand, there’s been exactly one death conclusively linked to FMT, and it was from one of these hospital-prepared transplants (the patient had just had a marrow transplant for cancer that wiped out their immune system, and the donor had a novel pathogen that the hospital failed to test for).

So the FDA has created a situation where, if you can’t afford a $10,800 proprietary formulation, your only option is to convince your doc or hospital to prepare their own poop transplant, which will cost less than the $10.8k for Rebyota, but more than the $1–2k from Openbiome, which has all kinds of economies of scale. And if you do manage it, you’ll be getting a procedure that has a much worse safety track-record than the Openbiome process that the FDA just killed.

The FDA has an important role to play here, but as with so many policy questions, how the FDA plays that role depends on things that are far upstream from the agency and its decisions. The choice to fund medical trials through the promise of exclusivity — and with it, extremely high margins — puts the FDA in the position of choosing winners in the marketplace: Ferring wins, Openbiome loses.

Ironically, this is the thing that exclusivity is supposed to prevent. By using profit to incentivize medical research, the FDA is supposed to be recruiting the Invisible Hand as its partner in regulation. But exclusivity is incompatible with the idea of medicine as a public good. The tens (hundreds) of millions that Americans will pay for $10.8k poop transplants from Ferring will add up to far more than it would cost to underwrite clinical trials for an open process like Openbiome’s.

The result: both Americans’ wallets and Americans’ guts suffer.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Hay-on-Wye, Oxford, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/29/oh-shit/#rebyota

[Image ID: A poop emoji wearing a top hat and a monocle, posed against a backdrop of e coli bacteria seen through a high-resolution microscope.]

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 4

Content Warnings: Mild gore (descriptions of blood), Needles (into a port, not hypodermic), IV port, Lab whump. All under the cut out of caution!

Sensory Deprivation

The sedative wore off at the same time it always did and they groaned, wishing just for once to curl up and go back to sleep. They had five minutes, or ten if they were lucky… but being found still asleep was never worth it. Old and new wounds complained against the arduous process of standing up and feeling for the door.

Sure enough, the fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead just as they exited the attached bathroom. 

“Good morning, dear.” Their captor greeted, gesturing to the chair. Of course, always straight to business with him. But they wavered.

The chair wouldn’t have stood out to an outsider as anything other than a black leather armchair. Sure, it was the only dark item in the starkly clinical room, but that only made it all the more inviting if you didn’t know its use.

“You should take a day off. You’re practically married to your work,” they tried.

“You’re my work, and I don’t think either of us want that,” he shot back, removing four vials from his shoulder bag and setting each neatly on the tray. 

The chair. The tray. They were all laughably foreboding. Laughter never eased the fear.

“That’s new.” They knew the first three. Nutrition supplement, immune support, and hydration supplement. Administered every day like clockwork. Days with any more were days to be feared, but they’d started to recognize which drug was which. This was definitely new.

“Yes. Take your seat.” 

Always the same goddamn phrase to warn them they were going too far. 

“Ring a bell and I’ll probably start slobbering,” they muttered, perching on the edge of the chair. He hummed, unwrapping a needle and drawing out the nutrition supplement.

“Thank Pavlov for lessening that network of scars on your body.” His smile was pleasant as always. In another life where he wasn’t so sick and twisted he was probably a medical provider. 

He moved the neck of their shirt aside to access their IV port and inject the liquid, doing the same practiced motions two more times before their hand shot up to cover the port. Disappointed eyes fell upon them.

“Never without some kind of struggle, are you?” 

“I just want to know what it is before you do it.”

“You’ll like it. Now move.”

He pried their fingers apart wide enough to push the needle in and depress the plunger. Then he stood back and grabbed his clipboard, probably noting some bullshit about volumes and concentrations, and clicked a stopwatch.

“Tell me when your back stops hurting,” he instructed, and their eyes widened.

“You gave me painkillers? Seriously?” Somehow, they were more nervous than before.

“Something like that.”

When he wanted serious data he didn’t speak much. So silence filled the room until their pain actually reacted as he said. Not only did the sharp pain on their back fade, but so did the aches of months past.

“Holy shit. What did you give me?” They felt like a brand new person. It was… terrifying.

“Your new favorite thing,” he said, and they couldn’t exactly deny it. He finished writing and made his way back over. “Alright. Now for the real test.”

They couldn’t help the way their body clenched up when he stood over them. Or the way they trembled when he opened the zipper pocket and pulled out his knife. 

“I thought this was a scientific procedure. Where’s your scalpel?” A risky quip. They didn’t want to see that goddamn scalpel ever again.

“Scientific, not surgical. Calm down or I’ll need to start you on high blood pressure medication too.”

He tapped the arm of the chair and they obediently set their arm there, wary of his every movement as he flipped the underside up.

“If you struggle, I’ll strap you to the table instead.”

That was checkmate and he knew it. A timid nod accepted defeat.

The knife started just below their elbow, pressed in, and pulled ever so slowly down to their wrist. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit, preparing for the familiar sting, but…

They looked down. The cut was already bleeding, dripping down their arm, wetting slick leather. But all they’d felt was a mild pressure.

Their captor was looking on just as intensely, studying their reaction.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” they breathed. No pain. “Nothing whatsoever.”

He drew another line, parallel, and even as more blood wept, their eyes were strangely dry.

“Good. Let’s kick this up a notch.”

They opened their mouth to protest but a hand already fisted in their collar, pulling them up and pushing them against the wall. Their vision blurred when their head knocked off the wall, but the explosion of hurt didn’t precede it. 

“H-how do you know you didn’t just concuss me?” The longer this went on, the worse it felt. 

“I suppose I don’t. Not until I check you.”

“You can’t do that! You need to know how hurt I am, you need to know when to stop-!” A backhand flew across their face, snapping it to the side, and they whimpered. The hit had hardly felt like a brief touch, but its humiliation stung nonetheless.

“I know your limits. Do you think you’d feel a stab wound?” His question made them freeze, tears preemptively flooding their eyes.

“No- please don’t. Please. I’ll lose too much blood, you could hit something vital, please!” 

"Do you think my anatomical studies were for nothing?"

Pressure. Pressing harder and harder against their shirt, their abdomen, and then a horrific, slick coolness. It fell back and exposed a rushing warmth, blood staining white fabric, broken skin peeking through the new hole. God. They felt faint.

They fell to their knees and heard footsteps, probably wanting to test whether or not they were faking it.

“It doesn’t hurt,” they cried. “I just- the blood- I need to stem the bleeding.” That was true. Their hands clamped over the stab wound, trying to stop it. The shoes paused next to them in thought, then continued back toward the chair. Just moments later they heard his bag rustling and each vial clinking as it was set inside.

At least he was done for the day. Probably sad he didn’t get to make them scream.

He picked up the bag and his steps resumed, kicking something that skittered to a stop at their feet.

“Page me once it starts to wear off.”

Fuck.

[biggerbagingos]

Tbh? The older persona women are where it’s at for me.

Kawakami, finally able to spend time and money for herself. She did always have those lactation snacks and supplements. Maybe she could make a little more money…

Tae Takemi, opting just this once to be the test subject of her own experimental drugs. At first nothing happens, then she notices a spreading blue splotch on her nose. She tries to write down the effects but between her arms practically being absorbed into skin the same shade of blue as her hair and the juice pouring from her nipples, it may be hard. Perhaps she could call Kawakami if she’s able to? (Yes I ship them I love yuri)

Chihaya Mifune, getting a fortune that she was to become fat. Well, if the cards say she will, then why not speed up the process?

Ohya, having drunk so much that now she’s basically the newest keg at Lala’s bar. But considering the moans every time Lala squeezes a tit for some alcohol (followed by a bemused shake of the head from the head lady herself), I don’t think she minds…

I am a very big fan of your ideas here~ I'm really liking the image of Kawakami just barely squeezing her giant udders through the clinic door, spraying milk everywhere after the lactation meds got out of control, only to get juice "accidentally" squirted in her face by her girlfriend which turns her into a big blueberry milkshake.

The antidote exists, in theory at least, but Takemi hadn't gotten to that part yet. And there's no way anyone can help with these giant berries in the way...

Admittedly, I haven't been giving the side characters much love in my Hypersona world. I wanted to make an addendum for my original headcanon post, but I realized I'm not too familiar with the non-party girls in P3/4. I'd say the fault here lies with "I didn't want to cheat on Fuuka" and "I just straight up missed their entire existence."

Mostly the second one.

I'll have to pay closer attention to them when I get around to replaying the games after I finish the P2 duology. (Maya has a total bombshell hourglass figure btw. very sloshy.)

[gettingvetted]

re: your last post with the serval and "she wasn't 75% housecat so it wouldn't work" Is it just that the rabies vaccine hasn't been tested and studied on wild animals of the same taxonomic family that it's not accepted? Or has it been tested and does it full out just not work and thus can't be trusted? This is wildly interesting and I'm very invested lol

Most drugs used on animals are used in an off-label manner, meaning that the drug is not approved/studied for either the species it is being used on or the reason for which it is being used. For example, most brands of pentobarbital (the euthanasia drug used by most vets) are only labeled for use in dogs only (you might see it labeled for horses and dogs but this is uncommon). We still use it on cats, cows, rabbits, chickens, zoo animals, etc, and it works just fine. Same with many antibiotics - most do not have animal labels and we use them anyway. One particular anti-vomiting medication for cats and dogs is frequently used to help with coughing and sneezing, joint supplements can be infused into the bladder to help with sterile inflammation, etc. The possibilities are endless and it seems like I learn new options every day on veterinary forums.

This is about 99.5% legal in cats/dogs/most exotic pets/zoo animals with a rare exception here and there. Animals that produce or become food such as chickens, cattle, goats, etc have stricter rules to make sure none of the drugs end up in the food supply, but a good portion of it is still legal with asterisks.

Vaccines are slightly different. In most cases, the viruses and bacteria that cause diseases are the same between animals. So even if a distemper vaccine is only licensed for dogs, you can pretty well assume that the virus is the same when it crops up in ferrets and raccoons. The variability comes in with how long immunity lasts, how much vaccine to use, and whether immunity will develop at all. For example, horses need double the dose of rabies vaccine of most other species and need to be vaccinated yearly, even if the vaccine's label for dogs and cats states that it lasts for 3 years. It's doubtful that immunity lasts even a year, as horses typically produce very poor immune responses to vaccines. And those are just the species we have data for.

When it comes to the possibility of transmitting a 100% fatal disease to humans from animals, absolutely zero chances are taken. So while it is legal, and encouraged, to vaccinate the majority of captive mammals for rabies, it's impossible to tell what or how much protection exists in each species as a result of vaccines that are only extensively studied in cats/dogs/ferrets. This is why many GP clinics outright refuse to work with hybrids like wolfdogs and high percentage savannah cats, because any bite of a staff member or client requires euthanasia of the animal and the resulting staff medical bills may not be covered under workman's comp and/or practice liability insurance if you don't have a rider for working with wildlife. Even antibody titers to rabies, while measurable, are not considered proof of vaccination or immunity, because we don't know what level of antibody titer correlates to immunity across species. Vet staff who are vaccinated for rabies are theoretically supposed to get titers every 2 years, but this only informs whether boosters are needed. Even a person with a normal titer should receive post-exposure rabies shots if they are bitten by an animal with any possibility of rabies. That's how seriously rabies is taken, for good reason