#What is the safest drug for ed

[iris-writesx]

loves me like i’m brand new | gentlebeard

read it here, or read it on ao3 <3

soooo i know i posted one fic on this account and disappeared, but one of my dearest friends encouraged me to watch ofmd with them a couple of weeks ago, and i am obsessed. i’ve watched the show like three times since then and have been grabbing at any fics i can get a hold of, and couldn’t stop thinking about some of my own. so that what i’m going to be doing :) this is my first fic i’ve written for ofmd (and the first fic in a while) so it’s probably not great, please be kind <33

i feel like it doesn’t need to be said, but just in case, i don’t actually know the canonical history of ed’s tattoos it’s all my interpretation

the title is from “call it what you want” by taylor swift x

2k words — fluffy and domestic, post-canon. recreational drug use and chronic pain is mentioned.

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From their little inn on the shore, the sound of the waves against the beach was a constant and grounding sound. Of course, that sound had been a constant for as long as Ed could remember — he had spent more time at sea than he had on land, the sea was always there. Even tucked away in his little bunk on Hornigold’s ship, in whatever bedrooms he claimed as his own on his many raids, or, more recently, in the confinements of the Captain’s quarters on The Revenge, the sea could always be heard.

Of course, from their little shack on land, the sound of the water was much more distant. It was nicer, in Ed’s opinion. It couldn’t be heard unless he focused on it, unless he sat and listened.

It helped when he was grounding himself… or whatever the fuck Stede called it when he needed to calm down.

The wind was gentle so the waves lapping against the shore were gentle and kind, just a soft noise that drifted in and out of his focus. As soft as the gentle candlelit glow of their bedroom, or the gentle strokes of Stede’s calloused fingers as they moved up and down his arm. As gentle as he felt, with the haziness that was building in his mind.

The smell wasn’t quite so gentle. Ed only smoked tobacco on the regular, so he hadn’t quite come accustomed to Stede’s preferred smoking habit. But they had been at their inn for coming up a fortnite now, and on their last adventure into town Stede had bought some. After years at sea, just like Ed, he knew that Stede sometimes got achey. Like Ed’s fucked up leg, his partner also suffered from pains, and Stede insisted it helped. And Ed’s fucked up leg wasn’t going to get any better, so he had agreed to try it with Stede.

They had waited until they could just spend the evening doing nothing. The living room was all painted after a day’s work, and whilst furniture still needed to be bought, and walls needed to be fixed, it was slowly but surely becoming a home. Stede wanted to get the crew over for a visit as soon as possible, and whilst Ed wasn’t quite so eager to disturb the peace, he admittedly did miss the group. With Izzy as the new Captain of The Revenge, he knew they were in the safest possible hands.

But he did miss the unlikely found family.

“Ed, darling,” with his eyes closed, he felt the warmth of Stede’s hand against his chin and tilted his head backwards without any further insistence. Stede’s thumb pressed to his chin and urged his jaw to slacken, lips parting, and soon enough he felt the warmth of Stede’s breath as he pushed the smoke from his mouth, which was pulled right into Ed’s lungs on his inhale. After practicing all evening, he knew to hold it, before Ed exhaled the smoke for a second time. “There we go.”

Ed could smoke tobacco until the sun went down, but weed? He had tried earlier, after Stede had meticulously rolled them, but he had almost hacked up a lung in the process, to which he had been urged to stop. And to be honest, he preferred this option — the closeness between them, the warmth of his breath, Stede’s hands gentle on his face to guide him where he was needed. At first, when Stede had first suggested shotgunning the smoke instead, they had gotten a little carried away and made out until they were both hot and out of breath. But after a few shared joints, they had both fallen lax and mellow. Ed was splayed out across Stede’s lap, his head against his boyfriend’s thigh, whilst Stede was propped up against the wall beside their bed.

His hair had long been pulled from the braid it had been held in all day, which allowed for Stede’s fingers to drag through the grey strands until his eyes closed and the haze of his mind grew even hazier. If left long enough he could’ve easily fallen asleep there in his lap, high and satisfied.

Stede’s fingers were on his arm again. But as he focused on the touch, they weren’t mindlessly stroking. It seemed like he was tracing patterns into his skin, and it was only when Ed opened his eyes and looked down, he realised that his tattoos were being traced. His eyes flickered upwards, and Stede looked so concentrated. It was almost entertaining.

“Like ‘em?” It was a silly question. Ed often caught him staring, especially at his tattoos. Some of them had been inked into his skin for so long that he often forgot that they weren’t supposed to be there, thought that they weren’t anything special. But Stede? Fuck, Stede looked at him like he was God, and he looked at his tattoos like they were biblical scriptures. He didn’t think he could ever get used to how Stede looked at him, how he made him feel. He hadn’t felt loved in so many years that it felt new, it felt overwhelming, but it certainly felt good.

“They’re beautiful,” Stede’s voice was soft, his eyes flickering up to meet Ed’s for just a moment before they were back on his arm. He continued to trace the tattoos, before his finger halted, and Ed watched his eyebrows scrunch. “Is that a game of hangman?”

Ed also looked down, saw the little game marked into his upper arm, and scoffed a breath of a laugh. “Yeah, we didn’t have any more paper. Said Jack could play on my arm instead,” he didn’t miss the way Stede’s relaxed nature stiffened just a little at the mention of Calico Jack, and wordlessly he lifted his arm to squeeze his thigh, thankfully feeling him melt again. “Got a lot of little doodles n’shit on there, mate. Half of ‘em don’t matter.”

Stede really seemed to focus, then. He shuffled upwards against the wall so he could lean down and get a closer look, and Ed could only watch his expression in the fondness he held only for Stede. His limbs were relaxed and loose, and he let Stede lift his arm up to see the tattoos closer without any resistance. His arm was turned from all angles, his touch remaining as gentle as it always was.

“You have a lot of stars.” Stede noted, spoke it as if he were talking to himself, the words soft and mumbled. His fingers traced over all of the little stars along Ed’s arm, his touch so light it was like he was feeling something fragile. And Ed supposed if he were to be fragile in front of anyone, it would be Stede.

“Stars are cool,” He shrugged, looking down at his own arm for a brief moment before his gaze returned to Stede. His gaze always returned to Stede. “Got a lot of them because I thought they were cool, actually. Look at that shit,” he pointed to the mermaid etched into his upper arm, just below his shoulder. “Mermaids are cool as fuck, Fang swore he saw one once.”

“Did he?” Stede looked so invested, just from his little unimportant story. He never failed to leave Ed surprised. Stede, the Captain who would read stories to his crew every single night so they slept well, was entertained by Ed’s stupid little story about his stupid little tattoos. How nobody had fallen for him before was beyond him.

Lucky for him, of course, but still beyond him.

“No clue. Still, sick tattoo, though.”

Stede nodded, smiled, before he leaned down a little further so he could press a kiss to Ed’s mouth. Just a light press, nothing like they had been doing earlier, but it was a kiss from Stede Fucking Bonnet. Ed could’ve lept up with joy. If he didn’t feel so languid, anyways.

“Ready for more, love?” Stede nodded towards the joint between his fingers once he had leaned away, and Ed nodded almost eagerly. Of course, he was probably more excited for the action of shotgunning rather than the high he’d feel from it. Anything to be close to him.

The joint was lifted to Stede’s lips, and he watched as the end started to glow red as he took in a drag, before his hand was on his jaw, tilting his head upwards so he could brush their lips, pushing the smoke from his mouth and into Ed’s. As he started to lean away, though, Ed lifted a hand to hold the back of his neck to keep him there, and kissed him a little more properly than before, exhaling as he kissed his bottom lip, feeling him melt into him.

Stede pulled away sooner than Ed would’ve liked, though he was leaning at an awkward angle. The hand that returned to his arm was enough to keep Ed satisfied, though, so he just let his eyes fall shut as he relaxed back into Stede’s lap.

“How’s your knee feeling now, love?”

Another reason that they had decided to smoke that evening was because after a long days work, Ed’s knee definitely felt a little worse for wear. He had been up and down the ladder painting, and whilst it wasn’t being used to run around during a raid or swim or fight, it had still been overused, and it still hurt. They had been at the inn for such a short period of time, but he had gotten used to relaxing. His knee had definitely grown accustomed to doing fuck all.

It had been hurting so badly after dinner that, as much as he wanted to help Stede clean up, he had to just sit and try to ignore the throbbing pain that shot up his leg. Stede had then urged him into their bedroom, where after changing into their nightshirts, he had rolled them their evening treat.

“Feels fine, yeah,” he had forgotten it was even supposed to be hurting. The languid state his body was flowing in was drifting him away from focusing on anything but Stede, really. Ed lifted his leg, experimentally bending it at the knee. He could feel the movement, could feel the pain there, but it was almost muffled. Dulled by his haziness. He lowered his leg back down, and tilted his head to kiss Stede’s wrist. “Forgot it was hurting. This shit is great.”

Stede chuckled, and his hand moved from Ed’s hair to his cheek. Ed nuzzled into the warmth, and felt the thumb pressed underneath his eye, stroking softly. He could’ve started drooling. “You just like getting to kiss me.” Stede accused jestly, and Ed laughed.

“The high sure is a bonus, mate.”

Ed kissed Stede’s wrist once more, before he relaxed his head against his thigh once again, sighing out deeply. He enjoyed this new life they had — the domesticity, the quiet, the company. Getting to fall asleep tangled up with Stede every night without worry of a raid or a storm was soothing. They could just… exist. Together.

Ed had felt like something was missing for so long, and for so long he had been wrong. He wasn’t missing more adventure as Blackbeard, or his solitude, or money. He had been missing his purpose — Stede. His purpose had never been Blackbeard, or being Captain — the latter was more Izzy’s purpose, who had proved that over his time as Ed’s First Mate time and time again. And now Ed was happy to think of his friend out there leading The Revenge.

But no, Ed belonged with Stede. He deserved this little life that they were starting to and would build for themselves.

He was finally truly happy.

“Why’d you get the spider?” Stede lightly stroked the back of his hand, and as Ed dove into the story behind that particular tattoo, he came to the realisation that he had never felt so at home in his life.

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comments would mean the world <3 requests are open!

[fildenaprofessional]

How does Tadalista Super Active compare to newer treatments in terms of safety for elderly patients?

When addressing erectile dysfunction (ED) in elderly patients, safety is a paramount concern. Tadalista Super Active, a well-known treatment for ED, is often compared to newer therapies to determine which is safest for older adults. This article explores how Tadalista Super Active fares against newer treatments in terms of safety for elderly patients.

What is Tadalista Super Active?

Tadalista Super Active is a medication containing tadalafil, a phosphodiesterase type 5 (PDE5) inhibitor. It works by relaxing blood vessels in the penis, allowing for increased blood flow and facilitating an erection in response to sexual stimulation. Typically, it is taken orally, with a recommended dosage adjusted based on individual health conditions and needs. Common side effects include headaches, flushing, and nasal congestion, while more serious concerns involve cardiovascular issues such as potential drops in blood pressure.

Safety Concerns for Elderly Patients

Elderly patients often have complex health profiles, including heart disease, hypertension, and diabetes, which can influence the safety of ED treatments. As people age, their bodies process medications differently, and they may also be taking other medications that could interact with ED treatments. Tadalista Super Active, like other PDE5 inhibitors, requires careful consideration in elderly patients due to these potential interactions and the cardiovascular risks associated with its use.

Overview of Newer Treatments

Several newer ED treatments have emerged, each with its own safety profile:

Avanafil: This PDE5 inhibitor is known for its rapid onset of action and a lower risk of side effects compared to older drugs. It is metabolized quickly, which might reduce the risk of drug interactions. However, it still carries risks similar to other PDE5 inhibitors, including cardiovascular issues.

Vardenafil: Another PDE5 inhibitor, vardenafil, is used for its effectiveness and relatively short duration of action. It has a similar side effect profile to tadalafil but may present a different risk level depending on individual patient health and concurrent medications.

Alternative Therapies: Newer alternatives, such as penile injections or vacuum erection devices, offer non-pharmacological options. These treatments might be recommended when oral medications are unsuitable due to severe drug interactions or contraindications.

Comparative Safety Analysis

When comparing Tadalista Super Active to newer treatments, several factors come into play. Tadalista Super Active’s long half-life means it stays in the body longer, which can be a benefit for spontaneity but may also increase the risk of prolonged side effects or interactions. Newer treatments like avanafil, with its quicker action and shorter duration, might offer better safety profiles for elderly patients who need flexibility in their treatment regimen.

Elderly patients often use multiple medications, raising the risk of drug interactions. Tadalafil may interact with medications such as nitrates, leading to potentially dangerous drops in blood pressure. Newer treatments like avanafil have shown a lower incidence of such interactions due to their different metabolic pathways.

Expert Opinions and Research

Recent studies suggest that while Tadalista Super Active is effective, its use in elderly patients requires careful monitoring. Research highlights that avanafil’s rapid action and shorter half-life might mitigate some of the risks associated with longer-acting PDE5 inhibitors. Geriatric specialists often recommend starting with lower doses and closely monitoring patients for any adverse effects.

Conclusion

In summary, both Tadalista Super Active and newer ED treatments have their advantages and potential risks. Tadalista Super Active, with its long duration and effectiveness, remains a viable option but requires careful consideration of the patient’s overall health and medication regimen. Newer treatments, particularly avanafil, offer promising alternatives with potentially improved safety profiles for elderly patients. Always consult with healthcare providers to determine the most appropriate and safe treatment based on individual health needs.

[kael-writ]

so like various trigger warnings here for abused teen self harm etc shit:

when I think about becoming an addict as an abused teenager I really just can't even blame myself. I dont really see much of a better alternative because I was so hurt and fucked up. Becoming a stoner (and drinking and doing other drugs) set me on a bad path but at the time it was fuckin, probably the safest choice.

Therapy didnt really help much because I was actively being abused. I was living in a high stress, terrible situation all the time. Medication might have helped I guess but the doctor didnt treat me with respect so I didnt trust him and so when it did nothing, I gave up on it. but that also couldnt like destress my life.

Before I started smoking I was actively cutting myself and bulimic and suicidal. Drugs replaced that. Without it, what, would I have just kept sinking everything into ED?

Getting fucked up and lot and having friends got me through the hardest time in my life.

What i really needed was for some adult to reach down and do SOMETHING, like fuckall, to get me into calm safe housing where I wasn't constantly being treated like shit and physically beat up.

but left to myself, I still, at 40, many years sober now after many, many years of addiction, dont see how else I really coulda done much better than I did. The pure emotional turmoil and pain I was in, I just don't know how else I could have managed it.

I mean, people do, somehow. So maybe Im wrong, maybe my addict brain is just still broken. but I think that going through those years without something to just numb the pain, would have left me so much more broken and fucked up and maybe I wouldnt have made it.

[kandadiff]

Van Der Wulff - Hours in Christmas

~ 1 Am Christmas Day ~

"Are you and your companion okay, mr Mendes?" One of the crew members asked Shawn as he settled down in the makeshift bed of the private jet. He has red hair, cut into a formal style and his way of standing made him seem oddly professional in this laid back space. He was grateful that, like his own father, Roman's family was involved in illicit arms deals overseas - meaning the people who worked for them knew how to keep their mouths shut.

"Yes, thank you." The man bowed slightly and was about to close the door when Shawn quickly pulled out a $50 bill from his jeans pocket and handed it to the man. "Thank you again for helping me with the meds. She gets nervous on flights - its better that she just stay asleep." The red head nodded thanking him for the tip before leaving you and Shawn alone.

Shawn moved over to where you were laying down and pushed the covers lovingly over your sleeping form. The pills of Xanax sat on teh nightstand along with the Xanax laced water the had you drink as soon as you were coming back into consciousness. He was grateful for roman's lack of questions, because he was coming up with a plan on the fly. Good thing he wasn't to bad at it.

He knew Greece would be the location that would be the safest to take you at. Of course it was because unlike you, he spoke Greek. He was secretly thankful his father loved history so much and instead on so many trips to Greece when he was growing up. They learned the language together - it was a good bonding experience he always remembered with a smile. Now it would really help him.

In Greece you would only communicate with people that spoke English and everyone who worked at the house his father bought there was indebted to Negan.. They would listen to Shawn to a tee as long as he spoke fondly of them to him. They would not help you leave. The calls he made just two hours ago reinforced their loyalty to him. He had told the woman who worked for him to go buy enough clothes, accessories and makeup for two weeks and for all occasions in your size. He was sent a picture of few minutes ago that they were nearly done. He even asked his most trusted man, Stefanos, to order you three wedding dresses.

Yes, this was the only way. He wasn't sure what Xavier had on you bur whatever it was would never compare to the power his father had - and by extension him. He could handle Edward, after all to him Edward was his fathers plaything - something to make Shawn work harder and after this trip once he had you all to himself he would and prove to Negan once he was ready to retire it would go to him. He would keep Ed too - just to taunt him with you. He'd demote him to some lowly drug dealer and he would show you off as his wife and partner. He'd do the same with his piss stain of a god father.

That thought made Shawn smile as he settled under the silken sheets provided by the crew. His brown eyes found his phone screen laughing to himself as it pinged with a note from his sister, Ellia sent in a group text.

Ellie : MERRY CHRISTMAS FAMILY! 🎅🏻🎄❄️ WILL BE ARRIVING IN A COUPLE OF HOURS. LOVE YOU ALL!

Love you too Ellie.

Shawn responded and silenced responses. He would miss seeing his sister this Christmas but everything he bought her was all under teh tree.He chuckled at the thought, shit everything he bought you is under your tree as well. You'd have to open it when you were Mrs. Mendes.

Shawn looked at your sleeping form and a rush of tenderness overcame him and as he pulled you over to him and you settled into him. He knew he was making the right choice. Sure it might look complicated but you'd never ever meet another man like him. Willing to take charge and erase all those assholes from your life. No, you'd never meet another him - he was perfect for you. Sure he made mistakes before but not anymore. With that thought still in his head, Shawn held you tight to him and kissed your forehead. "We'll have a wonderful life."

~ 2 AM Christmas Day ~

Following a disastrous meeting of Rio and her parents a few days ago Makayla had been in a high-funtioning depressive slump. Caught between the love (and fear) she had of her parents and the love she had for Rio.

She ignored him for three days, the worst thoughts she had every thought about herself were pushed to the forefront of her mind and assaulted her at a rapid fire pace. What could she tell him? 'I'm sorry my parents hate you? I'm sorry you chose to be with a loser drug addict? I'm sorry I'm a stupid girl with foolish dreams who never learn?' Shame covered her from head to toe and she hated that feeling and did not want to drag him into this. He probably didn't want her anyway. Why would he? She came with mountains of baggage. He deserved better and she was getting what she deserved.

She had went to sleep early last night hoping to escape her thoughts, but as soon as she opened her eyes at 1 in the morning. They were right there with her again. She moved to the kitchen hoping a sleep tea would help her get rest but instead was met with Rio walking into the house, just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Rio stood by the doorway watching her closely. The diamond and ruby bracelet he had gotten her as an early Christmas gift still adorned her wrist and it seemed to be the only jewelry on her. So she didn't move on? As she moved her eyes scanned her neck for any marks left by another. He didn't think there was someone else but paranoia had gotten the better of him since she was ignoring his calls and texts. When she looked up at him, his heart ached for her. Her chestnut brown eyes looked up guilty at him, like a child who was just caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Are you ready to talk?" He couldn't help the cool tone in his voice, he was upset with her. She hung her head in shame. "You've been ignoring my calls and texts. I had to make sure you were okay." He looked at her, her dark hair covering her face as she stared at her hands. He waited for a few moments. "Should we talk about you ignoring me?" He heard a small sniffle and despite his cold tone, he felt his chest tighten. Was it over? He waited a few moments and said her name. "Makayla, let's talk." She nodded. "I was worried about you, why did you ignore me?"

She looked up at him with teary eyes and motioned for him to follow her to the living room couch. "Because my parents hate you and its embarrassing! I am embarrassed!" He straightened up preparing himself for what was to come. She was going to leave him, because of her parents? Did they mean that much to her? She couldn't leave him! He loved her- maybe he could get rid of them- "Like, you're a great man, Rio, You helped me, you care about me, you treat me like a princess and I thought that would finally be enough for them. Hey, Makayla is happy lets be happy for her, we are her parents thats all we should want. But its not! I am still there biggest disappointment. An addict loser," she wiped her tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. "they don't know you and they hate you because of me! because they don't think I can make any good choices and thats not fair to you! My parents hate you and I feel so terrible because its my fault!" she sobbed into her hands unable to look at him.

Rio wrapped his arms around her shoulder, pulling her shaking form to him. Tears wet his collar as he sobbed into his neck but he kept her close, stroking her hair. They stood like that until Makayla calmed a bit, her crying hiccups faded and she clung to him like a koala to a tree. "Darling," his voice saying her nickname made her look up at him. He wiped a tear away. "You're not a loser. You are so far away from being a loser. You are an incredible, bright and kind person and your parents do not deserve a person like you. Them, not liking me, is not on you. It is on them. I don't need their approval to love you, I just need yours. And I do love you Makayla and I fall in love with you more and more each day. Every story, every laugh, every tear makes me love you more. If they can't see that, then they don't deserve you. You're better then them."

"I wish."

"You are." he said with such conviction she looked away. Then settled into his arms, burrowing herself on his lap. Small sobs still left her body as she attempted to calm herself but it became less and less as he soothed her.

"I love you." she whispered up at him and took his hand in hers. "Please don't leave."

~ 3am Christmas Day ~

Having parents around was less dramatic for Katya. At least with her family, since her mother passed she was incredibly close to her family and saw them quite often. However, she didn't know that it would be other parents that would be her problem this week.

As soon as Taehyung returned from Korea, he apologized for everything and practically begged for her back. She would be a big liar if she said she didn't still care about him - possibly even love him. He asked to give him another chance. So she decided that she would but it would go very slow and he was not to tell anyone and she told no one either.

But when his very traditional parents came from Korea to visit she was reminded why it was a problem in the first place. They looked down at her - she wasn't Korean which meant she wasn't worth wasting time on and when his father told her that much she left BTS's house leaving her Christmas gift for V. He had stormed after her. Which is why they sat in V's warm car just down the block from her home at 3am on Christmas.

"Katya" he held her hand tight in his. She wasn't squeezing back - to tired or to upset to deal with it. "Katya, I have made mistakes but being with you has never been one. I won't loose you again-"

"It is not about that!" She snapped at him. Her accent becoming thicker and she wondered if he could still understand her. "You can love me all the way to the sun but it does not stop your parents from hating me! I will never be the perfect girl for you to them and that I could be okay with but you cannot be! you broke us up because of them! they have not changed but you have?" She shook her head and folded her hands over her chest. Her aqua eyes bored into his so strongly he had to look away.

It wasn't untrue that V still loved Katya. Being in Korea for three months just made him miss her more. None of the girls he tried to use to get over her ever compared to her. And it was going well for a while until his parents came with all there traditional values. And he loved his parents and he loved Katya but she was right. He couldn't have both happy. "You're right." he admitted and her eyes softened to sadness. "I want both but I can't have it." He squeezed her hand and this time she squeezed it back. "I'm sorry." he said "I don't know what to do."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "When you know, tell me." With that she got out of the car and headed back to the house. He followed her in the car closely watching her go inside before heading back home. His thoughts like a hurricane in his head.

~ 4am Christmas Day ~

After the rumors about her swirled around her parents and they belittled her for her sexuality Draven had told them to leave. They fought with her and said they were going to stay but they left early yesterday morning and to celebrate her and Jiwoo went out drinking at Slaughter.

She didn't even make it to her room she was so exhausted from the night - that as soon as she entered the house around 3:30 she fell asleep on the couch. Or at least tried too.

BAM! Something fell just above her head. She groaned and turned over on the couch. The Christmas tree lights illuminating around her with blinking colorful lights. She waited for someone to come down the stairs with broken pieces of whatever fell or maybe they needed a midnight snack but no one came down. She grumbled to herself and pulled the afghan over her body attempting to sleep again.

THUMP! BAM! Another noise - coming directly above her. "My god!" She moaned and waited for a moment trying to remember who's room was just above her. It was yours. "Fucking Adi!" She stood up, pausing a moment while her brain adjusted to the fuzziness in her head. She stomped up the stairs and threw open your door. Her eyes scanning over your room before she gasped at the figure in your room - way too tall to be you. She quickly flicked on the light and adjusted her rings in case she had to swing. The light caught the golden hair of Xavier looking at her with surprise. The window was open and a few of your decorations lay on the floor.

"Its just me." He said and she looked at him confused.

"Why did you go through the window?" She asked her head pounding. She caught a look at herself in the mirror in teh corner of the room and shook her head. She did not want to deal with this tonight. Where the fuck were you? she looked around for you but the bed didn't hold your sleeping body and the bathroom door just down the hallway was open.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would answer the door this late and I usually see Adi this way-" he laughed and Draven motioned to the bed where you weren't. "I was going to surprise her in the morning." He held up a bag of Christmas gifts. "I think she's at the hotel with her parents."

"lucky her." Draven said dryly. "Just keep it down. I'm trying to sleep." She said and he nodded watching as she closed teh door and headed to her room.

~ 5 AM Christmas Day ~

There was a reason certain people could do bad things and not be caught. It was easy for Luther to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. To teh outside world, He was a model citizen, a wonderful award winning professor, a humble man, a great father - who had hit hard times and was in a sort of separation from his wife. Who practically everyone labeled a ‘dumb bitch’ while he shook his head in polite disagreement. He was good at playing the part of a good man. 

He easily gave my passport to the border check, passing off my passed out form in the backseat as much needed napping. The syringe he used to dope me up with sedative hidden in his messenger bag. But to him it was worth the risk.

It was like being on drugs when he was with me. Hyped and delirious. I was a drug, something that starts in small doses but quickly becomes not nearly enough. According to him, my very being demanded his attention, demanded that he see me and crave me.

He knew this could only go one of two ways, he'd get his way and we would marry. Keep a long honeymoon in Mexico and return to town happily married. I'd leave that foolish school, leave Funhouse to Naomi and maybe have a kid or three. That was his best hope - or it could be the way which the would lay out as soon as the sedative wore off.

He parked in the attached garage of the Mexican house his grandfather had left him years ago. He loved it here - his happiness memories were made her and he hoped there would be more. He unloaded the bags setting his own up in the bedroom and mine in the guest room. Though he knew I probably wouldn't be there for every long not until it settled in that this could only go two ways.

He picked me up and gently placed my limp body on the guest room bed. He wanted this to be pure. His eyes raked over my sleeping form but he was determined to do this right. No sleeping together until the wedding night and he would get rid of this trashy fashion. He sneered down at my dress. 'Could it even be considered a dress? the fabric was thin and why was it two contrasting bright colors - no no this would not do.'

He undid one of the suitcases he packed full of new clothes that he considered appropriate. He quickly pulled off the dress, forcing himself to just place on the new dress. A longer one, up to my knees with a v neck in a pale pink. He smiled and moved to the kitchen to toss out the rag I had been wearing before.

He was caught a bit off guard when he heard a thump in the guest room. Rushing over there he saw me sitting up in bed. My hair was a mess in front of my face, covering the large bruise on my forehead that he immediately regretted when he did it. But he had no choice. He smiled when I looked up at him confused. He knew I'd be weak or nauseous for a few minutes until the sedative wared off.

"Luther" my voice was small and dry from lack of use. He quickly rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and bringing it back to me. He opened it and handed it to me. I looked at it wearily, he took a sip showing it wasn't tainted and I drank from it hearty. He waited until I was done and sat next to me. "Where are we?" So I didn't remember?

"Merry Christmas, my snowflake. We are in Mexico, sweetheart." He said moving my hair from my face. God, he wanted to kiss me. Maybe a kiss wouldn't be so bad. A kiss wasn't that bad - he could still make me pure - we just couldn't sleep together. "You might be a little disoriented. The sedative has that effect."

"Sedative?" I asked blinking slowly. My body felt weak, almost numb. My mind felt hazy, like a thick gray foggy that was trying to dissipate as quickly as possible. Even in my daze, my body felt something was wrong. I needed to go. It was dangerous here. This was a dangerous place. Go! Where was I? Why was I here? Why was Luther here? "Where is everyone?" I asked sitting stiffly next to me. I looked around "Hello?!" I shouted. My voice was still hoarse but it was loud enough. "Hello!"

"Stop." he ordered but I didn't. Instead I stood back up and went towards the door and looked around.

"Hello!" I was scared. I didn't know this place and looking around I could tell no one was in it. But us. I was in Mexico with a man I didn't trust. He stood up and grabbed my arm and the memories of last night came flooding back.

I felt his presence behind me and I felt like vomiting. my heart was beating wildly in my chest and my eyes darted all over the place. Looking for an exit. I spotted what looked like the front door and started to run.

I was still feeling the effects of the sedative and Luther reached me before I even came close to the door. I screamed and tried to push him off me but he dragged me back to the guest room. His voice calmly telling me to "Stop screaming." I couldn't stop. I screamed for him to get off of me as I felt my back hit the bed. I punched and clawed at him as I shrieked. "fine if you don't stop." My wail was hushed by his lips over mine and he pulled me to him. Kissing me like we were lovers. I hit him as hard as I could in the face hitting his eye and he let me go for a minute. I tried to get back to the door but he grabbed me by my hair and clamped his large hand over my mouth.

He dragged me harshly by my hair and moved to the door I nearly escaped to. "You need to listen!" he flung open the door and yanked me down the stairs into a darker room. He flung me towards a wall. I groaned as I hit the tile and a bright light flooded my vision. I scrambled up and saw this room was modeled like a bedroom. A small cot sat in the corner along with a book shelf, a nightstand and a small shower and toilet.

I looked back at him and his eyes softened. "No." I cried out.

"I know you're scared and you want to go home. I'll take you home soon but you have to listen to me." he said but I couldn't. I couldn't stay down here. I ran towards the door but he stopped me. "No, no, no listen." He ordered. "Please stop, Snowflake - just listen. if you keep fighting then I'll have to leave you here until you calm down." I ignored him and kept screaming, feeling my vocal chords ache and he shook his head disappointed. He shoved me back hard until I fell back. "I'm going to leave you until you can calm down." I screamed again but then he looked back at me a small smirk on his lips as he looked back at me. "With the door shut no one can hear anything down here. I sound proofed it myself so go ahead and scream and shout if you want. You won't bother anyone."

~ 6 AM CHRISTMAS DAY ~

The Grecian weather was nothing short of paradise and when you felt the sun on your face. Your eyes fluttered open and given the luxury of the room - for a minute you thought you were back in France. At one of your mothers friends fancy houses that she insisted everyone stay at after they drank their weight in wine.

You sat up looking around and jumped when you saw a maid fluffing teh curtains in teh corner. When she heard you shift she turned around and gave a small smile she spoke with an accent you couldn't identify but you would make out what she was saying. "Good morning, Mrs. Mendes. What would you like for breakfast?"

~

**Extra

bedroom you're in & the bedroom I am in without the window for mine

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[mendesficsxbombay]

just let me adore you | s.m

my third fic this month! this is absolutely NOT like me!! 

Requested ‘fluff’ from this prompt list:

34: you look so comfy and cuddleable

40: I’m not going to get sick you baby. Just let me hold you, can we just stay in bed

The call cuts off and she lets out her longest sigh of the day. It’s her fourth time calling him in a row, when otherwise, it’s him doing the calling. 

She let off the calls and texts the last few days, their relationship was still so fresh how dare she appear clingy to this beautiful boy she’s liked for as long as she can remember? As soon as they put a tag on it, the years of knowing each other, and the knowledge of each of their tricks and tactics went out the window. Three months in and they still act like teenagers with their first crush. Not that there is anything wrong with teenagers and crushes, but they’ve both already lived through that phase of life, why are they back here again? 

She racks her brain for alternatives, then furiously rubs at her temples as if that would make her thoughts come through easier. She could call up their friends, see if they’ve heard something from him in the last week. She hadn’t seen him for 7 days, his last message was 4 days ago. She could march over to his house but again … they’ve only been together together for three months. She’s not sure if she’s allowed to go knocking on his door without notice. Then again what if he’s in danger and she is the only one who thought about saving him? What if she is his only hope? He is the current Prince of Pop, the people wanting to cause harm to him must be endless. 

She scoffs at her usual downward spiral. Everyone in the world is not out to get him. He’s worked with her through her panic multiple times, so if he knew how much she worried about him why not just give her a heads up that he’s alive and safe? 

His apartment is really just twenty minutes away from hers after all, she could go over - she should go over. She purses her lips while looking at her black phone screen, as if staring at it hard enough will just, you know, make him call. But that’s not how the world works. And so she marches to her room to collect her bags, picks up her keys on the way, and sets off to his house. 

She used to do this all time, earlier - showing up unannounced. They’d spent a better part of three years being strictly friends. Nothing more. Except the times she would catch him staring at her a bit longer than what seemed normal, or when she would put in extra efforts to dress up when she knew she would be seeing him. They had been introduced through friends, an effort to club their friend groups into one large social circle, and they didn’t have a lot in common, but that’s what worked for them. They lived each other’s lives through the other’s eyes, and sometimes, that’s all you need in a friend. 

Unfortunately, most times they saw each other outside of their respective flats, there was alcohol involved. And bottled feelings and bottles of alcohol never really mix well. They used to play this game, they used to order drinks for each other, with the promise that the other would have to finish the drink, and the swear was on their friendship. A year and a half or so of knowing each other later, they found themselves exchanging kisses in dark corners of clubs and pubs, a glass of whatever they bought each other in hand. 

Soon enough, they didn’t need the liquid courage. Although it was the sort of thing that everyone knew of and no one said aloud, they kept their distance in front of their friends and the sneaking around never really ceased. And what their friends don’t know, didn’t hurt them. As if their friends didn’t know why or how they always arrived and left together. As if they didn’t notice that after a while she had chosen to stop bringing her car to these parties altogether because she knew she would ride back with him anyway. 

At some point, a boy she knew from university, a far off member of said social circle asked her out. And quite boldly so. In front of all their friends and at their favourite bar. She brushed it off, said she wasn’t interested. But he persisted. And that’s where Shawn stepped in. Gently, yet firmly, pushed the guy back from closing in on her so publicly. He said she wasn’t interested and he should have listened the first time. He asked him to learn. To do better. Then took her hand and left the place. 

The car was silent for the first time in all the rides they’d taken together. She didn’t like it. But she also didn’t have the guts to ask what all of that was about until she realised that he wasn’t driving to her place, he was straight on his way to his. 

She softy asked about why they were going to his, and his eyes widened as if he hadn’t realised that himself. He spluttered for a second, and then ‘fessed up. He felt she was the safest if she stayed over at his that night - if she was okay with it. He knew he sounded like a hypocrite, making her decisions for her and all, but just this one time, he couldn’t reign it in. 

She didn’t say anything back then, just linked her fingers through his on the centre console and leaned back against the headrest. He took it as a sign and brought her home. That night, they slept the best either of them ever had. 

The next morning, she asked him to be hers, and that was that. 

Three months in, though, she’s pulling up to his apartment and she’s more nervous than she was the first time she met him. It’s the fear of the unknown, really. What if he had another girlfriend on the side this whole time and he didn’t tell her so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings. She’s been cheated on before, she knows how gullible she is. It was really not hard for her past boyfriends to sneak around. But Shawn’s not like that. Or is he?

Riding up the elevator she send up a quiet prayer to anyone who was willing to listen. Please let me still be with him at the end of the night, I can’t lose him. 

She walks out of the lift as if she’s headed for war. Her head is spinning already but really, what was she expecting if she so suddenly decided to confront the panic she had been wallowing in for days now?

She took in a deep breath, and knocked on his door, patiently waiting for whatever was on the other side. She could take it (could she?). She would put on a brave face and confront - his mom?

“Babe! It’s so nice to see you here!” The older woman exclaimed, gently pulling her into a hug and rubbing her back, like she did with her son. “Shawn didn’t tell me you were coming over, I would’ve made some food for you as well!”

“Oh I - didn’t actually tell him I was coming over, Miss Rayment, he-“ it is okay, you can talk to her, she knows you are together and she loves you through it all, just keep talking, “He hasn’t really answered my calls or texts these last few days, I didn’t know what was wrong so I came over.” She winced finally, somewhat ashamed for showing up. 

“Is that so?” Karen frowned a little, letting go of her and finding her way into the kitchen. “Babe, he’s been sick for a week, it was the stomach bug, but then his body was heating up, too, and I called him on the second day of it - he didn’t sound too good and you know what mums are like, I packed a bag and drove right over. We had him speak to a doctor over the phone, thank god he doesn’t have any events lined up anytime soon, because the meds keep him knocked out for most of the day. I did expect him to call you, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” she whispers, her face growing hot with embarrassment, and she didn’t know why. “May I go up and see him? Is he awake?”

His mom smiles and nods, saying she’ll be down here if they need her. 

She silently pads her way up the stairs of his penthouse, cursing herself for thinking the worst of him while he just lay here drugged up and sick. She felt sorry for him and for herself, too. Why couldn’t she have figured this out sooner?

Before she knows it she’s standing outside his room, and there’s no turning back. She softly knocks twice, and waits for a response she isn’t sure she would receive. She turns the doorknob gently, aware of the slight creak it usually lets out. 

The room was darker then usual, the curtains to his floor to ceiling windows were drawn shut, and there was one nightlight glowing softly in the corner of the room. It took her a second to make out his figure under the lumps of the duvet pulled over him. She felt sadder than she did a second ago, thinking of how uncomfortable he must’ve been these last few days and how she wished she could just take it all away. 

There was a tiny empty spot on the bed next to his torso, she found a place for herself there. The covers were pulled up to his chin, his hair looked messier than it did usually and he looked so much younger, as if he was at peace even when his body wasn’t. 

She snaked her pinky through his, through the hand that was peaking out from under the layers of warmth. His lips parted slightly, hand curling around hers even when he continued to sleep. This was their secret move every time they were in public. Like a silent hi, I’m here when they couldn’t say it aloud. 

She peppered a few kisses to his forehead, light enough to not awake him, but dusty enough so he knew they were there. She saw his face scrunch just for a second, smiling to herself because of how much of a baby her big, strong boyfriend really was. It was adorable. 

She wanted to test how far she could go before he woke up. She smirked a little at the thought, remembering the last time she had stayed over at his, just last week, on this same bed. There wasn’t a lot of sleeping that happened that night. 

She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and she got the exact reaction she got every time. His lips puckered against hers for a second before falling into a deeper sleep, lips parting again. Her heart warmed and she almost awww ed for real, but he was still sick, and still needed rest, so with one last long look at her love, she left the room again. 

Downstairs she found his mom on the phone on the pretty white couch everyone loved so much, patiently waiting for her to hang up. 

“What’s up, he still sleeping?”

“Yes… I was thinking I could make something for dinner since you’ve cooked this whole time?”

“Oh, you really don’t have to I could just -“

“No, please, I want to. Is soup and garlic rice okay with you?”

It was the first real meal she had learned when she was 16, and it was her signature. Everyone loved it. You couldn’t possibly go wrong with it. When his mum smiled and nodded as a reply, she knew they loved it too after she brought it home to them when they visited for Christmas. 

She went into the kitchen, happy to see most of the ingredients she would need. This would be a different case if his mum hadn’t come over, she would’ve only found fruits and frozen meat and some form of soda or beer in his fridge. 

She could cook this one with her eyes closed, so she was done relatively quicker. Just an hour later she was eating dinner with his mum, catching up on lost time. 

After the dishes were dried and put up, his mum asked if she was going to spend the night. She wanted to, but she also didn’t wish to overstep. She said she would wait till Shawn was up and had dinner and then leave. Karen understood and gave her a warm hug, a kiss to her head and found her way to the guest room. 

In the meantime she found the few books she had left at his house for him to read - as he had specifically asked, and she knew he hadn’t even touched the covers - and cuddled into the throw he usually had by the couch. 

When he come down the stairs an hour and 7 chapters later, he looked like the most beautiful train wreck. His cheeks were flushed red from the sleep and his body heat that she hoped had stabilised, and wasn’t increasing anymore. He wore a black muscle tee and gym shorts, yawning and making his way into the kitchen slowly, and it hurt to see her otherwise tough guy be this fragile. 

She waited for him to notice her. It was another challenge they had between them, he prided himself in how attuned he was to her, he could walk into a room and sense if she was there, too. Usually she would hide and try to throw him off but he found her, always. Which is why when he froze in front of the stove and let out a choked breath (it was probably a gasp but, you know, he is sick right now) and turned around, she couldn’t help but grin like a lovesick fool. 

“What.. are you?” He stuttered, his voice down several decibels, a throaty rasp which, in any other condition would’ve sent chills down her spine. 

“Heard someone was sick,” she sighed, putting her book down and joining him in the kitchen. “You hungry? I made dinner. The garlic will do good for your throat and tummy.”

“And mom?” She turned around to reheat the soup and toss around the rice a bit more. 

“We ate and she went to bed.”

“Are you mad at me?”

She finally looked at him, looking like a wounded puppy sitting by the breakfast bar. It was hard to stay mad at him, but she would hold her ground this time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Shawn?” He only ducked his head down, looking anywhere but her. So great, now he’s sick AND guilty. 

Shawn liked being taken care of - but he hated people having to worry about him. He hated being the subject of someone’s concern - especially those closest to him. He liked knowing that there were people who had his back but he hated having to use that support for anything. It made him feel guilty and incapable - a habit she was trying to rid him of since their first year of knowing each other. 

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

“So you worried your mum who lives an hour away?”

“No she was… going to come over anyway.”

“No she wasn’t. Just last week you said she probably wouldn’t come over for a bit because she had things to finish back at home. She told me during dinner, too. So what’s the real reason?”

She plated three scoops of rice and a bowl of soup and passed it over the counter to him, then sat down right where she was. He felt like that was a kick to his lungs. He would say guts but his lungs were weaker at the moment. She never, ever passed up an opportunity to sit next to him, to be pressed up to him, and looking at her settle herself so far away from him (four feet away is quite far when you’re in love) let him know he really messed up this time. 

“Didn’t want you to think I’m weak,” he mumbled around a spoonful of rice to make sure he didn’t hear him correctly. She did, though. 

“You falling sick would make me think you’re weak? Are you out of your mind or are the meds that heavy in dosage?”

“Look it’s just - you’re so strong? You’re immune system is made of fucking metal. And then there’s me. I get a cold every few months even though it can seriously harm my singing. And then I get a fever or stomach bug or just - something - every few months and like - You deserve someone stronger. I didn’t want you to be bothered by this.”

“Okay so the meds are definitely still working their magic,” she muttered as he rolled his eyes. “You have got to be joking, Shawn, look at you! How on earth could I possibly find someone stronger than you? You picked the worst time to be insecure honestly.”

She glared at him but stayed silent to let him have a bit of the soup, pushing back the urge to smile as his face almost unclenched at the taste and his shoulders sank in relief. She was a good cook and she knew it. 

“You do realise that I would’ve been more than happy to come over and help you out? I came up to your room and you looked so comfy and cuddleable I would’ve jumped right in to sleep too had you not looked so sick. What even happened anyway?”

“The doctor said it was because of a weather change, it’s a common cold but the stomach bug might be the real problem. You know how you came over on Saturday and then I dropped you home and went out with the boys? I think the meat I had wasn’t so good. So he advised vocal rest and then said I should eat home as much as possible for the coming few days or weeks. That’s all.”

“And you called you mum? Why, doesn’t she also think you’re weak? Now that she still has to look after you?” She hit back in frustration, “Look, if you didn’t want me to come over, you could’ve just said so, but dropping off the face of the earth was not it and I was really fucking worried, so thank you.”

“But, baaaabe I said I’m sorry,” he whined, his face scrunching up again as if he was in physical pain. 

“I’m only mad because - Shawn, wouldn’t you have done the same for me? Why are the rules different for you?”

He pursed his lips as it fully sank in, she wasn’t mad, she was upset. And all that could’ve been avoided very easily but he did nothing to solve it. 

“I understand, and the next time something happens, you’ll be the first to know so you can come over and make me all this yummy soup and then you can yell at me a bit more for being so careless. But until then, please don’t be mad at me again?”

She glared at him for a bit longer until her resolve finally broke. There wasn’t really a way for her to stay mad at him still looking like so soft. She cleaned up after he was done eating some more, handing him his medicines like Karen had asked her to. 

She linked her pinky through his as they climbed up the stairs, suppressing a smile again as she saw him turn his head towards her with a look of wonder evident. He asked her if she was going to spend the night, she said she would only stay until he fell asleep because she still had work tomorrow, but she would drop in before and after. 

She got him into bed first, nicely tucking his head in in the many pillows he had, curls fluffing out at the top as he looked at her dreamily. She pulled the covers up to tuck herself in next to him as she usually did, only to have him slap his hand down on the covers, snatching them out of her hands. 

“What are you doing?!” His eyes grew wide as if what she did actually offended him. 

“uh, getting in with you?”

“I’m sick and you shouldn’t be getting in anywhere with me. I’ll get you a chair or something to sit in-” and he was already struggling to get up and out of bed when she calmly put her hands on his shoulders to push him down again. 

“Stop moving around so much, you don’t have the energy. I’m not going to get sick you baby and you’re not contagious. I already have sinusitis, you couldn’t possibly give me more of a cold than I’ve lived with my whole life. And your stomach bug won’t magically transfer to me. Just let me hold you, okay?”

He gulped nervously as she slipped in next to him, worry flashed across his features. But it melted away slowly as she tucked herself around him, her head coming to rest under his chin, over his heart as it always did. He hadn’t held his girl in a week. It felt good. 

“Can we just stay in bed, forever?” He mumbled sleepily. 

She snickered lightly, “I’m sure we can arrange that. Until then do you wanna watch something? Harry Potter, maybe?” She found his television remote by the bed, and pulled up his queue of movies on the screen. 

His eyes narrowed at her - “You don’t even like Harry Potter?”

She finally smiled at him, patting his cheek and settling down again. 

“It’s okay, I like you.”

taglist: @shawnwyr​ @mendesstories​ @lanallaa​ @sleepybesson​ @rulerofnocountry​ @luvluvxx​ @wholesomemendes​ @c25905​ @angl-phile

dm to be added or removed ♥️

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

Ok my dudes, dudettes, & various cryptids, we gotta talk about something. A health something.

So if you've followed me at all, you know I have vEDS & that my hypermobility is pretty gnarly in that my joints are stupid levels of unstable. I think many of you have probably caught on to the fact that I wasn't diagnosed until pretty late in the game... like 4 yrs ago when I was 30. For as bad as my symptoms are, I should have shown significant symptoms & signs as a youngster, someone should have noticed, right? It seems super sketchy that I have a lifelong genetic disorder in a really bad way but nobody noticed til I was 30.

I definitely get that. That shit is sketchy as hell, unless you know how I was raised. Allow me to shed light upon why I'm a weird outlier regarding treatment/diagnosis of EDS.

I guess let's start at the beginning. I was born to a workaholic man & a schizoaffective woman who was upset that I was not a boy. When the doctors pulled me out, my hips were dislocated entirely. Like just dangling. But my mother was so "distressed" (aka throwing a crazy bitch fit over something insane) that they didn't want to trouble her or my father with it. They told my dad's mom. She... told nobody.

As a baby/toddler/preschooler, I fell. A lot. Like, an abnormal amount & for seemingly no reason. My knees & elbows bent backward. But dad was always working & mom was crazy.

When I was 4, they split, & dad got with my stepmother.

The first memory I have of this woman is her laughing at 4 yr old me & calling me stupid with an amount of venom in her voice that I was used to from mom (who still hated me for not being a boy). Why was 4 yr old me stupid & deserving of ridicule? Because I'd never seen french toast, but knew what toast was, so I made the toast connection & tried to eat the sticky mess with my hands. You know... LIKE TOAST.

Anyway, i remember my entire childhood having neck, back, & joint pain. The joint pain would get so bad that elementary school aged me would cry myself to sleep most nights. Dad was still always working & the stepmom told me that either I was faking for attention or that I just had the regular pains everyone has, I was just a baby & sucked at coping.

I can remember popping my hips partially in & out (obviously not knowing what I was doing) when I was absent mindedly thinking because I liked the noise it made. I remember the stepmom starting a nickname that stuck within the family for YEARS: flamingo girl because my elbows & knees went so far backwards. I remember the running family jokes about how I would be "just standing there, then fell over for no reason". I was told I was clumsy & so uncoordinated they were surprised I could get food into my mouth.

Still, I was told it was normal, despite nobody else having these problems.

My shoulder started sliding out of socket regularly on the playground or during normal activities during elementary school. The first time it happened at school, I went to the nurse. My stepmom reluctantly came to get me & take me to the doctor while telling me I was faking to get out of school.

When I was 7, I started getting pneumonia every winter. She berated me for having the nerve to be "so disgustingly sickly".

When I was 8, I started getting what looked like migraines every couple months, but was never taken to a doctor. I was put in a dark room with a cold compress & grounded for attention seeking. Around this time, schools still did scoliosis checks & found mild curvatures in my back. Nothing was ever brought up about that again.

When I was 11, my knee fully dislocated at school. I was told I did it on purpose to make her look bad. She had a friend who was a psychiatrist treat me for mental illness that I didn't have because the doctor, being her friend, didn't even speak to me. Just took her word for it regarding my alleged behavior & my mother's mental health. I was drugged & pulled out of school for an intensive outpatient program where I said nothing. Saying nothing was safest. The one time I spoke of her other outright abuse, I was punished.

All this time, my father was working himself to death because she popped out 2 other kids, bringing the count to a total of 4, & refused to work. He had no idea what was happening.

So I grew up thinking my body was normal, I just sucked at dealing with it. I didn't get any idea that it wasn't until my mid 20s but by then, I was a parent & was juuuust making ends meet, so I couldn't figure out what was happening, even if I wanted to. So I pushed through as my dislocations & migraine like headaches got more frequent & more devastating.

Then, around 30, after 4 organ ruptures of unknown causes & a lifetime of ignored dislocations, hypermobility, pneumonia, & migraines, my body had enough. Things really went downhill & it snowballed pretty fast. It still took until I was 32 to get a proper diagnosis.

Since then, everyone has been trying to play catch up. By that time, my tendons & ligaments had become so fragile that PT actually did a load of damage in the form of tearing. My hips & knees slid out slightly when I walked, resetting themselves when I put my foot back on the floor. I was rx'd a power chair (which I still waited nearly 2 years to get & still only use for long trips). I had serious GI problems. The migraines (which are tension headaches) were happening weekly (now daily).

So in summary, this could have been prevented with early intervention & proper care. But unfortunately I was the victim of abuse & negligence. And that, my dears, is why I am a weird outlier.

If you take ONE thing from this, I hope it is that you pay attention & listen to your kids. Don't blow them off when they say something is wrong or you see evidence that something is wrong.

If you've made it this far, thank you for listening to my rant/explanation of how EDS can be THIS bad & go unnoticed for so long.

Also, there is no need for "I'm sorry" or pity. I know how hard my life has been & I went through a decade of therapy to get over the PTSD & such from my childhood. It's just an explanation & cautionary tale.

[phroyd]

Delta Air Lines was hoping to restart flights next month from New York to Athens and Lisbon, two popular summer destinations, but it will probably have to wait a little longer.

The European Union is planning to bar most Americans even as it welcomes travelers from more than a dozen other countries next week, dealing a blow to Delta and other airlines hoping to revive their business as travel across the Atlantic Ocean typically peaks.

International flights make up a minority of flights for U.S. airlines but are typically much more profitable than domestic ones. And flights to and from Europe are generally the most important. U.S. and European airlines had reduced the number of available seats on flights connecting the two markets by about 75 percent next month compared with last July, according to the aviation data provider OAG. A travel ban on Americans, which European Union officials confirmed on Friday, will probably lead to even deeper cuts.

“It’s a huge deal,” said John Grant, a senior analyst at OAG. “It is by far the jewel in the crown for many major airline networks, in terms of both revenue and profitability.”

Last year, flights across the Atlantic, to Europe and other destinations, accounted for about 17 percent of passenger revenue for United Airlines, or about $7.4 billion. Such flights generated about 15 percent of all passenger revenue for Delta, or $6.4 billion, and about 11 percent of passenger revenue, or $4.6 billion, for American Airlines. They were particularly important to United and Delta, generating a quarter of passenger profits last year, according to the Transportation Department.

Tens of millions of people flew between the United States and European Union countries in 2019. Many traveled for business to and from cities like New York, Los Angeles and San Francisco and Amsterdam, London, Paris and Frankfurt. Many others fanned out farther to vacation, particularly in the summer, when international flights are often nearly full as American families jet off to Italy and Greece, and Europeans check out New York and California.

Of course, travel between the United States and the European Union has been restricted since March, when governments on both sides of the Atlantic barred most visitors to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, with exceptions for repatriations and “essential” travel by medical professionals.

At the time, the United States had just over 1,100 coronavirus cases as the virus spread extensively in Italy and Spain. Today, the United States leads the world with more than 2.4 million cases, and infections are surging in Arizona, California, Florida, Texas and other states. As a result, European Union officials have decided to keep Americans out — along with travelers from dozens of other countries — for fear that they could further spread the virus.

Because of the size of the United States, a vast majority of tickets sold by American carriers are for domestic travel. Those flights have led the industry’s recovery, as Americans slowly start to visit friends and family and make limited vacation plans, a pattern unfolding in countries around the world. Higher-profit business and international travel is expected to follow far behind.“I think international travel is probably going to lag domestic by up to 12 months,” Ed Bastian, Delta’s chief executive, told shareholders on a call last week, citing travel bans around the world as one reason.

The large difference in demand for domestic and international travel is also reflected in flight schedules. American, for example, plans to operate about 55 percent as many domestic flights next month as it did last July, but only about 20 percent as many international flights. The airline has delayed restarting service between the United States and a number of European destinations until August, a month later than planned.

The Coronavirus Outbreak

Frequently Asked Questions and Advice

Updated June 24, 2020

What’s the best material for a mask?

Scientists around the country have tried to identify everyday materials that do a good job of filtering microscopic particles. In recent tests, HEPA furnace filters scored high, as did vacuum cleaner bags, fabric similar to flannel pajamas and those of 600-count pillowcases. Other materials tested included layered coffee filters and scarves and bandannas. These scored lower, but still captured a small percentage of particles.

Is it harder to exercise while wearing a mask?

A commentary published this month on the website of the British Journal of Sports Medicine points out that covering your face during exercise “comes with issues of potential breathing restriction and discomfort” and requires “balancing benefits versus possible adverse events.” Masks do alter exercise, says Cedric X. Bryant, the president and chief science officer of the American Council on Exercise, a nonprofit organization that funds exercise research and certifies fitness professionals. “In my personal experience,” he says, “heart rates are higher at the same relative intensity when you wear a mask.” Some people also could experience lightheadedness during familiar workouts while masked, says Len Kravitz, a professor of exercise science at the University of New Mexico.

I’ve heard about a treatment called dexamethasone. Does it work?

The steroid, dexamethasone, is the first treatment shown to reduce mortality in severely ill patients, according to scientists in Britain. The drug appears to reduce inflammation caused by the immune system, protecting the tissues. In the study, dexamethasone reduced deaths of patients on ventilators by one-third, and deaths of patients on oxygen by one-fifth.

What is pandemic paid leave?

The coronavirus emergency relief package gives many American workers paid leave if they need to take time off because of the virus. It gives qualified workers two weeks of paid sick leave if they are ill, quarantined or seeking diagnosis or preventive care for coronavirus, or if they are caring for sick family members. It gives 12 weeks of paid leave to people caring for children whose schools are closed or whose child care provider is unavailable because of the coronavirus. It is the first time the United States has had widespread federally mandated paid leave, and includes people who don’t typically get such benefits, like part-time and gig economy workers. But the measure excludes at least half of private-sector workers, including those at the country’s largest employers, and gives small employers significant leeway to deny leave.

Does asymptomatic transmission of Covid-19 happen?

So far, the evidence seems to show it does. A widely cited paper published in April suggests that people are most infectious about two days before the onset of coronavirus symptoms and estimated that 44 percent of new infections were a result of transmission from people who were not yet showing symptoms. Recently, a top expert at the World Health Organization stated that transmission of the coronavirus by people who did not have symptoms was “very rare,” but she later walked back that statement.

What’s the risk of catching coronavirus from a surface?

Touching contaminated objects and then infecting ourselves with the germs is not typically how the virus spreads. But it can happen. A number of studies of flu, rhinovirus, coronavirus and other microbes have shown that respiratory illnesses, including the new coronavirus, can spread by touching contaminated surfaces, particularly in places like day care centers, offices and hospitals. But a long chain of events has to happen for the disease to spread that way. The best way to protect yourself from coronavirus — whether it’s surface transmission or close human contact — is still social distancing, washing your hands, not touching your face and wearing masks.

How does blood type influence coronavirus?

A study by European scientists is the first to document a strong statistical link between genetic variations and Covid-19, the illness caused by the coronavirus. Having Type A blood was linked to a 50 percent increase in the likelihood that a patient would need to get oxygen or to go on a ventilator, according to the new study.

How many people have lost their jobs due to coronavirus in the U.S.?

The unemployment rate fell to 13.3 percent in May, the Labor Department said on June 5, an unexpected improvement in the nation’s job market as hiring rebounded faster than economists expected. Economists had forecast the unemployment rate to increase to as much as 20 percent, after it hit 14.7 percent in April, which was the highest since the government began keeping official statistics after World War II. But the unemployment rate dipped instead, with employers adding 2.5 million jobs, after more than 20 million jobs were lost in April.

What are the symptoms of coronavirus?

Common symptoms include fever, a dry cough, fatigue and difficulty breathing or shortness of breath. Some of these symptoms overlap with those of the flu, making detection difficult, but runny noses and stuffy sinuses are less common. The C.D.C. has also added chills, muscle pain, sore throat, headache and a new loss of the sense of taste or smell as symptoms to look out for. Most people fall ill five to seven days after exposure, but symptoms may appear in as few as two days or as many as 14 days.

How can I protect myself while flying?

If air travel is unavoidable, there are some steps you can take to protect yourself. Most important: Wash your hands often, and stop touching your face. If possible, choose a window seat. A study from Emory University found that during flu season, the safest place to sit on a plane is by a window, as people sitting in window seats had less contact with potentially sick people. Disinfect hard surfaces. When you get to your seat and your hands are clean, use disinfecting wipes to clean the hard surfaces at your seat like the head and arm rest, the seatbelt buckle, the remote, screen, seat back pocket and the tray table. If the seat is hard and nonporous or leather or pleather, you can wipe that down, too. (Using wipes on upholstered seats could lead to a wet seat and spreading of germs rather than killing them.)

What should I do if I feel sick?

If you’ve been exposed to the coronavirus or think you have, and have a fever or symptoms like a cough or difficulty breathing, call a doctor. They should give you advice on whether you should be tested, how to get tested, and how to seek medical treatment without potentially infecting or exposing others.

“Demand is increasing, but those numbers, while they’re increasing, are still a fraction of what they were last year, particularly internationally,” Doug Parker, American’s chief executive, told shareholders this month.

The International Air Transport Association called on governments this week to avoid quarantine measures that can discourage travel in favor of less severe measures, like asking sick passengers to stay home and increasing testing.

After dropping to record lows in April, the number of people going through U.S. airport checkpoints is up to about 20 percent of last year’s levels, according to the Transportation Security Administration. That’s not nearly enough to sustain the nation’s largest airlines, which are losing tens of millions of dollars every day, but it has restored a sense of vitality to an industry ravaged by the pandemic.

And while international travel could remain subdued for months, airlines have found other ways to drive revenue, including operating cargo-only flights, which are in high demand.

“That’s going to stay in place until passenger demand starts to recover,” Scott Kirby, United’s chief executive, said at an investor conference last month. “So there’s an international hedge that cargo is going to stay strong until passenger demand recovers, and then passenger demand will take over for it.”

[har-rison-s]

Run, Rabbit, Run

Request: I’m so glad you’re writing for stan!! could you maybe write a stan x reader where it’s when they are younger and it’s after the readers first encounter with pennywise and she’s freaking out so she goes to him for comfort? maybe including the babylove nickname because it’s canon and i love it!! thank you❤️

A/N: I'm glad, too. I love this one. I mean, okay, I say this about all the requests I get, but... that's the whole truth. I love all of them, each in their own unique way. I thought long and hard about the fear I could execute in this one. I've honestly also thought about what IT would turn into for me, but I can't 'decide' cos I have so many fears. I hope this turned out well and that I succeeded in making the fear... correct? Normal? Idk. My mom helped me with deciding the fear and how to execute it lmao. This was honestly hard to write. I've never written horror. Hope you like this, tho. Happy reading!

IT masterlist

main masterlist

warnings: horribly written fears and IT, panic attack

A Thursday afternoon in Derry High. Sun rays break through the long un-washed windows of the building, classrooms with thick air due to lack of air-conditioning. Quiet halls and classrooms. There's barely any soul in the high school left.

Y/N sadly got sick the previous week, so had to stay after classes to write a test she missed while sick. Her best friend Stanley was having piano lessons on Thursdays usually, enjoying the silence and the over-all deserted school building. He was the only pupil the music teacher taught piano, all the others uninterested or already good at piano. Most times Stanley even stayed until the sun started setting.

Y/N has just finished writing the test she missed out on last week and walks down the hall to the bathroom. She wants to change her hair before she leaves school today. Just get it out of the high ponytail and make a little one with the top half of her hair. A style that has suited her well her whole life. A signature hairstyle of hers.

She passes Stan's piano lessons class room and hears what he's playing very clearly. Anyone passing through this hallway would hear him playing, even from the other end. The music room has great acoustic in it. She smiles to herself and pushes the door of the girls' lavatory open, hearing its squeaks behind her when she enters the empty room.

A public bathroom in its natural element stinks horribly, but she still winces at the horrible stench. Even if she's got used to it by now. 

Y/N carefully puts her bag down on the floor, choosing a spot on the tiles that wasn't covered in some suspicious liquid. It could be just water, but she doesn't want to risk it. She sighs as she looks in the mirror. This has been a long day and she's ready to head home.

She takes out her hair-tie and her scalp immediately breathes a sigh of relief. Today's ponytail was definitely a tight one. Her hair almost cries at the release. She smiles to herself tiredly. 

As she starts picking out the hair strands to put up in a small bun, Y/N hears a sound similar to cracking, or maybe widning? Breaking? Where could it be coming from? She pays no mind to it, thinking someone's breaking tree branches outside. 

The sound grows louder and Y/N furrows her eyebrows. Sounds like it's... coming from beneath her. She's a bit scared to check the floor, but when she does, she freezes in complete horror.

The former tile floor now looks like a forest's bed and instead of where the pipes should be under the sinks, there's wooden roots. Like the ones you see in the woods. Like the ones she's always been afraid of all her life, since she was a little kiddie.

Y/N tries to grab her bag, not believing her eyes but also not wanting to stay any longer and see the elaboration of the pipe-roots. But she feels something snaking around her right ankle and as she looks down on it, she cries out. One of the roots coming from under the sink have locked around her ankle and is slowly making its way up her leg. 

Tears collect in her eyes and in such a big amount that they reach the brim and fall down on her cheeks, her dress, her hands and legs. She's in such a state of fear that she can't let out a sound. A silent panicking. 

She tries to wriggle her foot out of the plant's grasp, but it's tight as hell. Y/N does what she can with her other foot still relatively free, reaching for her backpack. She knows she has scissors in her bag, she had arts and crafts today during Home Ed. They're in the outside pocket. 

Her right hand is suddenly stopped, captured by a root that's coming out from the sink itself. Y/N's eyes widen even more, almost popping out of her skull. Physical terror almost takes over, but she makes for her backpack with her free left hand.

The moment she's got the scissors in her hand, she hears a giggle coming from behind her. Cold fright shakes her body. Should she even look behind her? Should she, for the best, close her eyes and wait for this nightmare to be over?

“Not such quick feet now, eh, Y/N?” An elderly, sort-of warped voice asks. It sends chills down her spine. No one even came in while she was here. Have they come through the window? And who are they?

She can't help her curious eyes looking up in the mirror. There she sees the most disturbing image a child could ever be beared to see. An at least six feet long... person in a clown costume is standing right behind her. Their skin is the palest white you could imagine. The lips and nose and eyes are crimson red. She hopes to the Gods that it's not blood on their face.

Their clown costume is dirty and very worn-out, looking decades old and over-used. The clown has orange hair that's sticking in the air, and wears a menacing smile. Their eyes are so big they look about to burst out, especially when they're each looking in their seperate direction.

Y/N screams and the clown laughs hysterically, and so loudly she feels like her ears and head would combust any second. She realises she needs to get herself free from the roots around her and bends down to start stabbing her scissors into the roots where they just barely are starting to wrap around her flesh. She's careful not to leave any self-injuries in the process. But it's hard to concentrate in this panic.

She's screaming and crying, afraid to death of the situation she's in. More and more roots start coming from all directions while the tall clown figure still laughs so horridly and terrifyingly. Y/N feels like she's spent, that she can't do this anymore, she can't free herself, that she'll give up and let whatever is bound to happen, happen. 

“Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run,” the clown starts to sing when she's finally freed herself of all the roots and grabs her backpack, ready to make it out the door, “don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun! O-ho-ho!” The clown laughs again. 

Y/N stops at the restroom door, looking at the room before her in horror. It's turning into a sort of nest, roots coming from every corner and inch, each of them wanting to grab onto some part of her. The clown stands right in the middle of it all, staring at her. She dodges the stretching roots best she can, but she won't be able to hold back for any longer.

“He'll get by without his Y/N-pie,” he continues, but his voice has dropped an octave or two, the smile no more on his horrid features, “so run, rabbit, run, rabbit,” he takes steps towards the young girl, terrifying her even more, “RUN! RUN! RUN!” He screams in the most agonising and horrible voice she's ever heard, also running towards her with sharp teeth coming from his mouth and an evil grimace twisting his face. 

Despite what her better judgement might tell her later, she listens to the creature and really does run. Out the swinging door, into the hallway without looking back. She runs into the first safest room she knows. The music room.

She practically falls through the door with a big clutter noise and terrifies poor Stanley, who's sitting alone at the piano. His eyes are wide and he jumps in his seat with a little shocked gasp. He looks upon the frightened Y/N. She's almost fallen down to the floor, her back against the door, as if she's holding it closed. As if someone might try to break in.

Stanley stands up and jogs over to her. “What's wrong?” He asks, one hand out-stretched hesitantly to her. She looks at him.

“I was... I was... There were... All around me...” She tries to explain what's just happened to her, but she makes no sense to Stan. He frowns. She looks scared, terrified. Her eyes are moving at rapid speed in every direction.

Y/N falls down on the floor, her knees against her chest and hands covering her face. In fear or embarrassment? Stanley immediately sits down next to her, legs crossed, and leans closer to her. He puts his arm around her shoulders in an attempt of an embrace and she goes in, letting the embrace happen. Needing it badly.

“There were the—the roots everywhere.” She cries. “Around my leg, around my arm. Trapping me, holding me. I couldn't get out. They wanted to—they wanted to trap me, get in me. I couldn't—”

“You're safe now.” Stanley tells her and soothes her with gently rubbing her back with his arm. 

“There was... There was a clown there.” She tells him. “In old clothes. With a white face and a horrible smile. He was singing.” Y/N says and breaks down in a seizure of cries and sobs. “And the roots wanted me! They wanted to get in me! Trap me!” She shouts.

Stanley tries to make sense of it all. Wonders if she was hallucinating, maybe someone drugged her? But no. What if it's just like the woman he saw? What if she did see... roots? Whatever that could mean. But it was a nightmare. It's not real. 

She can't stop crying. She's been exposed to her biggest fear and she can't calm down. She can't find any extra air to breathe, she feels like she's suffocating, like she's never going to calm down. It's a feeling of... no hope that you'll ever smile again. 

She can't calm down for another five minutes, at least. But Stanley stays put, holds her and listens to anything she tells him. 

“Do you think it was a nightmare?” Y/N asks him in a quiet voice, looking afar. 

“I believe so.” He replies. “It can't be real.” But is he trying to convince her or himself? Trying to calm himself down or, at last, her? “It was just like my nightmare with this... strange woman.” 

Y/N looks at him, slightly pulling apart from their embrace. Her eyes and cheeks are red, she looks lost and scared to death, still. “What woman?” She asks.

Stanley looks down. “My dad has a painting of a weird-looking woman in his office. She was trying to attack me when I was there to put the Tora back. Her face is all... twisted. She had teeth. I just ran.” He says finally and looks at her again. “But she's not real. And what you saw isn't real, okay? It was a bad, a really bad nightmare.”

She doesn't nod, but she takes his word for it. “But why did I see all that? Why now?” She asks. Perhaps she doesn't direct her question towards Stan, but to herself or something that could answer it. She sighs. “Sorry for scaring you.” Y/N apologises and sniffs. 

“Don't worry. I understand.” He tells her in response. “Do you—do you maybe want to hear something?” Stanley offers with a kind smile. She nods. Stanley playing piano sounds calming to her, and he plays so beautifully, after all. 

Stanley helps her get up from the floor and gives her a tissue to wipe her face with, one from the tissue box he always has in the music room, lying around, just in case. Y/N takes her bag and puts it on a near-by desk. 

Stan gets her a chair to sit on, putting it next to the piano, and sits down on the pianist stool. She sits down and puts her arm on the piano, resting her head in the palm of it. She watches him play one of Chopin's Nocturnes, watches his face change with every note he plays. He's careful not to mess up at any point. But she wouldn't think anything of it if he did. 

She feels peaceful, calm. The soft sounds of the piano playing in a completely empty room and, probably, building, calm her down and make her feel at peace with herself. 

Y/N has always been first in P.E. class. She's competed in sprints and running competitions and marathons since she can remember. It's one thing that gets her away from everyone else (quite literally) and from any thoughts that she'd find unwelcome - running. 

At one point in her secondary school years, she was running a kids marathon through the woods and tripped on a tree branch, getting her left foot stuck under a tree root by accident.

It was the first time she felt trapped. It was the first time she didn't win the marathon. It was the first time she didn't get any of the three first places. It was the first time she sprained her ankle. And the first time she felt genuenly scared for her life.

For her, it felt like the end of the world. It felt like no one would be coming to save her. But when they finally would come, the tree root would have already grown around and in her leg and stayed with her until the end of her life. She thought she'd have to live with a tree stuck to her, a root in her leg. She thought she'd never run again.

Permanent taglist: @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid@intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g

[sideeffectsvprk955]

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[spiritualdirections]

Aggressive policing was initially popular with African Americans

This 1997 headline in the New York Times tells it all:

“Giuliani Credits Minority Voters for Wide Margin” (of Victory) 

Starting in 1993, Rudolph Giuliani, over intense opposition, instituted the aggressive police tactics in New York City that have been copied over the whole country. They received criticism at the time for the same things being criticized today--they were too aggressive, they stopped innocent people, there were abuses of authority, they were racist. After implementing these aggressive policies, crime in minority neighborhoods dropped so much that New York became one of the safest cities (measured by crime per capita) in the country. Giuliani’s share of the African American vote jumped 15 points in his second term. He won reelection by a landslide.

Clearly, political support for these tactics has worn thin, especially among African Americans. But in a different context, a context of decades of high crime in black neighborhoods and ineffective policing there, these policies were initially well received. The abuses were not seen by most people as institutionalized racism, but as mistakes by police doing a bad job. Today, arguably, the successes of these tactics in lowering crime have obscured the context that originally justified them, so that the abuses are all we have to focus on.

Here’s a pretty fair Wikipedia summary of what happened, including the problems that happened when such aggressive tactics were applied mistakenly or where the cops crossed the line:

In Giuliani's first term as mayor the New York City Police Department, under Giuliani appointee Commissioner Bill Bratton, adopted an aggressive enforcement and deterrence strategy based on James Q. Wilson's Broken Windows research. This involved crackdowns on relatively minor offenses such as graffiti, turnstile jumping, and aggressive "squeegeemen," on the principle that this would send a message that order would be maintained and that the city would be "cleaned up."

At a forum three months into his term as mayor, Giuliani mentioned that freedom does not mean that "people can do anything they want, be anything they can be. Freedom is about the willingness of every single human being to cede to lawful authority a great deal of discretion about what you do and how you do it"...Giuliani continued to highlight crime reduction and law enforcement as central missions of his mayoralty throughout both terms. These efforts were largely successful.

However, concurrent with his achievements, a number of tragic cases of abuse of authority came to light, and numerous allegations of civil rights abuses were leveled against the NYPD. Giuliani's own Deputy Mayor, Rudy Washington, alleged that he had been harassed by police on several occasions. More controversial still were several police shootings of unarmed suspects, and the scandals surrounding the sexual torture of Abner Louima and the killing of Amadou Diallo. In a case less nationally publicized than those of Louima and Diallo, unarmed bar patron Patrick Dorismond was killed shortly after declining the overtures of what turned out to be an undercover officer soliciting illegal drugs. Even while hundreds of outraged New Yorkers protested, Giuliani staunchly supported the New York City Police Department, going so far as to take the unprecedented step of releasing Dorismond's "extensive criminal record" to the public, for which he came under wide criticism. While many New Yorkers accused Giuliani of racism during his terms, former mayor Ed Koch defended him as even-handedly harsh: "Blacks and Hispanics ... would say to me, 'He's a racist!' I said, 'Absolutely not, he's nasty to everybody'."

...According to some analyses, the crime rate in New York City fell even more in the 1990s and 2000s than nationwide and therefore credit should be given to a local dynamic: highly focused policing. In this view, as much as half of the reduction in crime in New York in the 1990s, and almost all in the 2000s, is due to policing. Opinions differ on how much of the credit should be given to Giuliani; to Bratton; and to the last Police Commissioner, Ray Kelly, who had previously served under Dinkins and criticized aggressive policing under Giuliani. Among those crediting Giuliani for making New York safer were several other cities nationwide whose police departments subsequently instituted programs similar to Bratton's... 

[leilareport]

@gallaghertasks​ // task 006: therapy.

‘ in the movies, these sessions usually start with “ well when i was a child .. “ and quickly devolve into a whole spiel of how their messed up childhood built their messed up life. but not me. not today. ‘

‘ did  you  know  either  of  the  victims  :   amelia  taylor  or  cassie  snyder  ?  if  yes  ,   how  well  did  you  know  them ?  ‘

it was a simple enough question and pretty standard, too. “i didn’t really know cassie, sorry. um .. amelia ..“ she wasn’t exactly sure why she paused. maybe because saying it out loud meant that it was real. “i knew amelia. we were friends. “ there. short and sweet. a quick sad smile to boot. that’s what they want, right?

‘ how  have  your  sleeping  and  eating  patterns  been  ?  ‘ 

she shrugged. “it’s been the same, in that i don’t really have the healthiest of either.” she felt her eyes narrow. the questions felt as standard as they did when her father sent her to therapy years ago after she had taken her middle school’s principal out for a joyride. her arms still crossed, she kept her neutral facial expression.

‘ do  you  find  yourself  thinking  about  the  event  even  when  you  don’t  want  to  ?  if  yes  ,   what  are  the  most  frequent  images ?  ‘

elisa shook her head, albeit a bit too fast for her own liking. "no, i do not. i wasn’t even aware it happened until the assembly, so .. “ it wasn’t like the information given was comprehensive. more of an order than anything that could say they could help. so she felt that was a bit unfair; a lot of things were. still are.

‘ do  you  avoid  thinking  or  talking  about  the  event ? ‘

she scoffed and found herself leaning forward with her arms still crossed, “well, it’s not something that should be talked about. people died.” catching herself, she cleared her throat and leaned back against the chair. “life goes on. it’s not like they would cancel classes more than they already do, so there’s that.”

it was at this point that elisa was being reminded of her previous therapy sessions. ‘do you avoid talking about your mother?’ was a popular question back then.

‘ do  you  avoid  going  places  or  being  in  situations  that  remind  you  of  the  event ?  if  yes  ,   what  are  these  places  ?   ‘

elisa shook her head once more. “no.” it was a lie, but she kept her gaze at the floor, not wanting the therapist to even note that about her. she had been avoiding the garages, it reminding her of amelia and their conversations together while fixing stuff up. but she told herself she’ll go there once more after this. and she really would.

‘ do  you  have  nightmares  about   the  event  ?   if  yes  ,   please  describe  these  nightmares  to  the  best  of  your  ability  .  ‘

“no, i do not. i don’t have nightmares, period.” not about amelia, at least. but when her mother left years ago, it was the source of great anxiety.

sometimes she thinks about that day. 

‘mommy’s first day back at work?’ she remembered asking lisanna as the other clutched their slim briefcase. she remembered thinking that it might be a simple office job, like her father. her mother nodded at her and gave a long kiss on the top of her head. ‘be good for daddy, okay? you’d do that right, my little lisa?’ if she thought about it hard enough, maybe she’d know how her mother’s voice was a bit more softer than it probably should be. the difference between a goodbye and a see you tonight. lisanna said neither, and just left to go to work. 

she hasn’t been back since. 

elisa looked elsewhere as the therapist went on to the next question.

‘ do  you  feel  easily  startled  or  anxious  ?  give  examples  .  ‘

“no, i don’t. a big part of my field is to not have be easily startled or anxious. it’s what i’m here for.”

training for the big leagues or what - not. there was a time she dreamed of going to quantico after graduating. following his father’s footsteps instead of her mother’s. her father’s family was more present anyway. birthday cards from the caspar’s were more frequent and more heartfelt. 

she never bothered to learn about the harlins. they never claimed her, so what gives?

they never called, never visited. at some point ellison just said that they were the type of people to never leave their house - a comment that earned him a snort from lisanna.

‘ do  you  worry  about  being  harmed  or  feel  “on guard” ?  give  examples  .  ‘

“i’m sure it’s apparent on your file that i’m both a driver’s ed and a threat elimination student. that said, i can keep myself safe, thank you.”

‘ do  you  feel  detached  or  “numb”  ?  how  so  ?  ‘

at the question, elisa felt herself go silent. 

she knows how detached she could be at times, but she would never talk about it or think about it. after a minute, she shook her head softly. “no, i do not.”

besides, admitting that you feel numb .. wouldn’t that be a great leeway into questions about involvement in the murders? isn’t that something that one should say ‘ i plead the fifth ‘ for? 

‘ do  you  feel  shame  or  guilt  about  the  event  or  about  problems  related  to  the  event ?  what  do  you  think  is  causing  this  same  or  guilt ?  ‘

“it’s not me. i think the school should.” she muttered, more to herself than a cry for protest. it was an opinion she knew was shared by a lot of other students. ‘ safest school in the country ‘ and this had happened. 

but systems fail. she knows that by now. sometimes things just go haywire and it’s very human thing. but a crowd can be loud and they would often want answers as much as anyone could want anything.

elisa remembers when an fbi mission resulted in quite a few deaths.. ella’s mom included. it was one of those moments in her life where she knew her mother could do any kind of wrong, having left years ago. but her father? who she knew just wanted her to get back into the right life path? who had to deal with countless phone calls from her teachers and angry parents of kids she’d messed with? 

what happens when the world wanted a man like that to pay for something he shouldn’t be responsible for?

she blinked, brushing away all the hate - fueled comments against him online and the first time she saw ella after all that and how, even though she herself knew ella was hurting, defended her father against the other. and now they don’t talk. she doesn’t have to wonder why.

‘ do  you  find  that  you  act  irritable  or  angry  ?  in  what  ways  ?  ‘

she shrugged, “not really. like i said, i can’t be easily agitated anywhere. it keeps me from doing my work as i should.”

‘ do  you  act  oppositional  ,  act  out  sexually  ,  or  abuse  alcohol  or  drugs ? ‘

elisa rolled her eyes, “no, i don’t.” now this was a ‘ i plead the fifth ‘ type of question. “i don’t think anyone would ever answer that honestly. virginia has very strict drug laws already.” 

‘ thank you, miss caspar. we’ll be in touch '

- 

elisa caspar scored a 16 on the ptsd quiz -- ptsd may be likely. elisa caspar scored a 46 on the grief quiz -- complicated grief may be likely.

[dakotabierman-blog]

Legalization of Marijuana

The legalization of marijuana is a growing debate as to whether or not it should be legalized. There are advocates on both sides of the spectrum, where people are completely for marijuana legalization and others who believe it to be a harmful and dangerous substance. On the pro legalization side, there are thoughts of taxation gains, safer products, and health benefits. On the criminalization side, there are thoughts of health risks, adolescent usage, and mental illnesses. I have used my research on both sides to provide the major arguments of both sides. 

At this time in our country, we are in a massive deficit. We have what is likely to be a $1 trillion deficit at the end of 2020. As a country, we need to understand the detrimental effects this could have on future generations. So we need to cut certain budgets as necessary. One of those budgets being the drug budget. As of 2018 the federal budget for drug control was $27.57 billion (drugwarfacts.org). Of that, over $9 billion was spent just on the enforcement of drug crimes. This does not account in the court time spent, as well as the prison time for these offenders. With those numbers combined with the money spent on prison time as well as court time, the number is well over $10 billion. Comparing Colorado’s 2019 numbers and population to the rest of the country, if marijuana was legalized federally, the United States would bring in over $17 billion a year just in revenue from taxes, fees, and licenses (colorado.gov). This does not account for the 1 million jobs that would be added to the economy, stimulating the economy further (colorado.gov). This alone would help the deficit by over $27 billion total.

Legalizing cannabis is the only way to safely regulate the product. Legalized cannabis will lead to safely produced products that will have to be watched and approved by drug and health departments, so the safest possible products will be manufactured. There is a high THC strain right now in cannabis, the THC concentration is just getting higher and higher as the time goes, to enhance people’s high. If marijuana were to be made medical, the people who are illegally buying it for the CBD would benefit more, because in medicinal marijuana there would be better manufacturing to create a higher CBD marijuana, and a less THC marijuana. Marijuana is said to be a gateway drug, because of the connections that it has with use of harder drugs. This link is because when people get their marijuana from their dealers, the dealer is likely to have different, harder drugs as well. As time goes, these dealers are salesmen, they will push to sell the more addictive drug and the more expensive drug. People involved in this black market are always going to be at risk for certain behaviors like this. The black market is a dangerous place, and if marijuana were to be legalized, the black market would practically fade away. People traditionally do not want to break the law, so if there is legal marijuana and black market marijuana, people are far less likely to go to the black market when they can obtain it legally from a licensed vendor. 

Marijuana is a licensed medicine, we know and understand the positive effects of marijuana. Prohibiting marijuana is practically denying people effective medicine. Marijuana has been proven to reduce symptoms of chronic pains without using opioids. It has been used to treat eating difficulties, sleeping problems, Crohn’s disease, epilepsy, multiple sclerosis, nausea and vomiting, pain and wasting syndrome, and many more (McLeod, 17). Marijuana has also been proven to lessen the symptoms and help treat patients of mental health conditions, like anxiety, schizophrenia, depression, social anxiety disorder, and psychosis.

Childhood all the way through our mid-twenties is a time of learning and developing skills, while our brains make connections. Marijuana impedes these connections and makes the pleasure stimulant in the brain more needing artificial chemicals to make us happy throughout our lives. If we learn to enjoy life as an adolescent, we will be able to make good decisions and enjoy life as adults. But if we use any sort of mood changing drug, we are damaging our brain and turning ourselves into addicts, because of the way the drug has changed the way the brain works. This is a lot more likely to happen if someone uses drugs while the brain is still developing, that is why it is so important to keep drugs away from adolescents. If marijuana legalization were to happen, it would be so much easier for adolescents to get marijuana. There is leakage in alcohol and tobacco, how would there not be for marijuana if made legal? 

Mental illnesses, like schizophrenia, are likely to suffer far worse with the use of marijuana. It is shown that marijuana use can make symptoms much worse for people who have schizophrenia. It also shows that marijuana use can cause schizophrenia to develop two to three years earlier than in nonusers. Even in some cases, it may cause people to get schizophrenia who would not have gotten it otherwise. These people who have schizophrenia account for three times as many days in the hospital as nonusers, that means marijuana users with schizophrenia account for a majority of all hospital days used by people with this disease, where hospitalization is expensive and should not be treated lightly (Gogek, 50). In Tucson, Arizona, a man named Jared Loughner went to a supermarket and opened fire, killing six people. Jared suffered from schizophrenia that was increasingly damaging because of his use of marijuana in early life. There is a good chance that these six people would still be alive today if Jared was not exposed to marijuana and used it. This is a sign that we do not know what is to come from marijuana, Jared did not know his use was damaging his lifelong health, nobody knows it until it is too late. That is why marijuana should not be legalized.

Not only does marijuana tend to be more damaging to those who already have underlying mental health diseases and the youth, but it can affect all people. Smoking anything can have a negative effect and can damage lungs. Marijuana has long term and short term health effects on the human body. Long term effects being; lowering IQ, affecting parts of the brain responsible for memory, learning, attention, decision making, coordination, emotions, and reaction time (cdc.gov). Short term effects being: attention, memory, and learning, which can affect relationships and mood. Marijuana can affect people differently based on the amount of THC in the marijuana used, how young you are when first used, how frequently used, and if other substances are used at the same time. When children are born to mothers who used marijuana during pregnancies have shown signs of lack of “attention, memory, problem-solving skills, and behavior problems in the[m]” (cdc.gov).

After finishing this research about marijuana and its effects on the human body, I believe that parts of the cannabis plant should become legal, across the United States. Marijuana itself has the possibility to be dangerous, because of certain chemicals in the plant. But certain things, like CBD oil, have serious beneficial effects and I do not believe this chemical in the plant has many damaging effects to the human body. I do not think that fully legalizing marijuana is the best thing to do, since there are still several detrimental effects that can happen to humans, especially the damaging effects it can have on the growing mind. But, I believe that different things, like CBD oil, and even other chemicals can be legalized if they are found to be beneficial to health. The cost of damaging the health of the youth for life is not a good enough reason to legalize marijuana for the recreational use for adults. But medicinally, certain chemicals can be made legal so that all of the positive health benefits from marijuana can remain, while all of the side effects and damaging effects can remain out of the picture. 

Works Cited

Gogek, Ed. Marijuana Debunked: a Handbook for Parents, Pundits and Politicians Who Want to Know the Case against Legalization. Chiron Publications, 2015.

“Health Effects.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 27 Feb. 2018, www.cdc.gov/marijuana/health-effects.html.

“Marijuana Tax Data.” Department of Revenue, 10 Mar. 2020, www.colorado.gov/pacific/revenue/colorado-marijuana-tax-data.

McLeod, Vince. The Case for Cannabis Law Reform. VJM Publishing, 2019.

[nizagaraonline-blog]

Nizagara 100mg - Effective ED Treatment

Lots of men are nowadays suffering from erectile dysfunction. It is something annoying, disturbing and it can greatly affect their sexual relationship. In fact, suffering from such a problem will not only make your sexual encounters not that pleasant, but it can affect your psychology and overall mood, as well. Thankfully, the global market has launched some effective, legal and safe solutions to help men fight off any type of sexual problem. Nizagara has gained a lot of popularity over the last years as a potent agent that can provide men with the powerful erections they are in need of. So, what exactly is Nizagara and how should you use it?

What exactly is Nizagara?

Nizagara is a medication capable of helping men of all ages fight off erectile dysfunction quickly enough. It is a powerful formula, comparable to Viagra and it is specifically designed to be one of the safest ED medications on the market. It is a prescription drug, and it has been thoroughly tested. Therefore, its efficacy and safety are both well established.

Nizagara is invented to treat every type of impotence: both periodical and permanent erectile dysfunction. The first results should normally appear within the first days after you start receiving the drug.

How does it work?

The powerful formula of Nizagara lies in its active ingredient, known as sildenafil. Sildenafil is the most well-known compound in the erectile dysfunction drug industry and it is the active ingredient of other popular products, including Viagra. When you take sildenafil, the blood flow towards your penis increases significantly. All that increased blood flow can cause a powerful erection to appear. How does sildenafil achieve that? By relaxing the blood vessels in the lungs so as to allow some more blood to flow easily down there.

Although sildenafil is the main active ingredient in this formula, there are other compounds capable of seeping up the absorption of this drug in the bloodstream.

Who can benefit from Nizagara?

Nizagara is ideal for every man suffering from erectile dysfunction. Unlike other similar drugs, Nizagara enables users to enjoy any spontaneous sexual moments during the day and night thanks to its long-lasting effects. Once you take the med, you can rest assured that your tool will be working greatly for the rest of the day.

On the other hand, Nizagara should not be used by women or men under the age of 18. It is also, not suitable for men suffering from heart failure, thyroid disorders, atherosclerosis or kidney disease. The maximum dosage per day is 100 mg and you should avoid overdosage as this can be the cause of some minor, yet disturbing side effects.

Are there any side effects?

Although Nizagara is an overall safe formula, as with every other medication, there is always the danger of experiencing some side effects. Particularly users who do not stick to the ideal dosage are more susceptible to develop one or more of the following adverse effects. Thankfully, the majority of those symptoms is quite insignificant, but you should still consult with your doctor if you develop:

Headaches and stomachache

Coughing or upper chest pain

Nausea and dizziness

Flushing of the skin

Erections lasting longer than 4 hours

How to use Nizagara?

Men should take one pill of this drug daily, at their preferred time. Ideally, Nizagara should be taken at least one hour before the sexual encounter. That is because, at that time, the drug's main ingredient, known as sildenafil will reach its peak in the bloodstream. However, you can take Nizagara anywhere between 30 minutes and 4 hours prior to your sexual intercourse and experience some pretty good erections. Each pill should be taken with a full glass of water. You should also, avoid eating any fatty foods 2 hours before you take the drug.

Those of you who have never tried Sildenafil before are advised to start with a lower dose of Nizagara 100mg at first. That being said, you could start receiving half of the pill or even a quarter of it for the first days and then go on with a whole pill daily.

Nizagara is a great medication against erectile dysfunction that can help men deal with that problem once and for all. It is a highly effective formula, safe and easy-to-use. Taking one pill of Nizagara 100mg daily will soon make you experience some of its positive results.

[jxd-the-kid]

Happy Pride Month

With the start of Pride Month I thought I should share an essay I wrote for my College Essay Writing class about my path to discovering that I am Asexual. It isn’t one hundred percent accurate, but its pretty darn close. Please enjoy.

(It’s written in second person, despite being about myself)

You Are Asexual

You sit there and listen to your friends talk about girls, both real and fictional, both celebrity and mundane. You understand the words that are coming out of their mouths but not the idea behind them, not the appeal of this topic. Over time you start to understand it more and more, but not like they do. You still don’t see the appeal of beautiful women/girls, but you do understand the language, and the parameters behind it. You learned what an attractive girl looks like by listening and watching, and, in a bid to not be left out, you join the conversation, but over compensated a little, making some of your friends a little uncomfortable.

You’re in high school, sophomore year. A friend asks you if you’ve ever had a crush on girls; you answer truthfully and say no; they think you’re lying so they press the issue; you swear that you have never had a crush on a girl, then add the caveat that you’re not sure what a crush would feel like so you might have, but didn’t recognize it; they ignore that. Your friend thinks on this for a moment before asking “are you gay?” “I don’t know what that means,” you say, revealing to your friend that you are a dumbass. He asks you how you don’t know what gay means, you’ve taken sex ed. You think back to middle school sex ed; you didn’t really pay attention, you learned how children are made and how to do that without making children, and that’s about it, it was boring and you didn’t want to be there in the first place. Your friend was kind enough to only laugh at your ignorance for a minute before explaining that despite what they showed on tv some men fell in love with men and some women fell in love with women, and this blew your mind, you had never considered that an option.

Now that you know you’re allowed to find guys attractive you give it a try. You try to learn what your straight girl friends find attractive in men, by listening and watching, and you learn what an attractive man looks like, the same way you learned what an attractive woman looked like, this should have been your first sign that you weren’t gay.

It took until junior year for you to realize that there is more to being gay or straight than knowing what an attractive man or woman looks like, you have to care that that they look that way. This realization left you questioning yourself, if you weren’t gay and you weren’t straight, then what were you? With all these questions and no one you know that might be able to help you go to the only place you know has all of the answers, the internet. You start googling all over the web, and all it does is frustrate you. Every site you check says there is no way to know one way or the other without some self-reflection, but you’ve tried that. Its why you turned to the internet in the first place in hopes of finding a definitive answer. Failing that you decide to double check you definitions on the two sexual identities, and you find something new, something you hadn’t considered before.

It is at this point that you learned about different sexualities and gender identities, and during that research you found bisexuality, the attraction to both sexes, and pansexuality, the attraction to all genders. You know that you are equally as attracted to men as you are to women, so logically, you think, that means you must be bisexual, mystery solved, case closed, the butler did it, you meddling kids and your dog, good night everybody.

… or so you thought.

You wear bisexuality like a police badge, at all times, but not always visible. You refer to hypothetical future partners in gender neutral language because it could be either, you comment on the attractiveness of both male and female celebrities and characters, you perform more physical shows of affection with your friends because you don’t care what way people think you swing because its both, and through out all of this something feels off. Nothing feels wrong per se, but not really right either. It goes back to why you didn’t think you were gay. Sure, you find both men and women equally attractive, but what does it mean when X=Y where X is your attraction to men and Y is your attraction to women is an accurate mathematic representation of your feelings so long as both variables are 0? What does it mean when you have to learn how to act like you’re interested in either sex? What does it mean when you’re out of options?

You go and find new options. Just a year ago you thought you could only be gay or straight, then you learned, about bi and pan, so you figure there might be other options you haven’t learned about yet, maybe you’re something else, because if that’s not the case then that would mean you’re broken and you do not like the sound of that. It doesn’t take you long to find a list of sexualities that claims to be comprehensive, but you force yourself to doubt the completeness of the list just in case you don’t find something that sounds right for you. You slowly read down the list engrossed in every word and definition some of them multiple times: heterosexual, homosexual, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, bicurious, polysexual, monosexual, allosexual, allosexual, allosexual. You get caught on this one word and its definition: “Allosexual; when you are not asexual (attracted to at least one gender).” You found it, you found the word for you, you had found what you were, you were not allosexual, and by definition that means you must be asexual. You feel that you have to double check though, so you find asexual on the list and read

its definition; not experiencing sexual attraction. You’ve known what attractive looked like, but you’ve never known what attraction feels like, because you haven’t felt it, because you are asexual. With all of that figured out you go about your life. You don’t consider coming out to anybody because its no one’s business but your own.

One day, freshman year of college, your parents ask about your romantic prospects, and you realize that they probably won’t let that die until the answer is something other than “not really.” It might even go as far as Dad flying up to give you some fatherly advice on dating. Realizing that, and thinking there isn’t a lot of reason not to, you decide now is as good a time as any to come out, it’s not like you were hiding it, it’s just that no one asked, so you might as well put it out there. You log onto Facebook, and make the first status update since you made the account;

Hello friends and family. I don't know why, but I decided that I should get this off my chest and the internet seemed like the safest place to do it (He says knowing full well that isn't true). Anyway, enough delay, this metaphorical closet is getting uncomfortable.

Anyway, what I wanted to say was that I am Asexual. I feel like I should say more but I don't know what else I could say.

Love you guys, have a wonderful day/night/week/month/year/life/eternity

If you’re being honest you know that it’s not your best writing, but it got the job done and you even put a little humor in it. You feel like it should have been longer, but it’s too late to

change it now. You refresh Facebook to see if any responded to it, no one yet, that’s okay, it’s not like you care what anyone says, you tell yourself, as you refresh the page again, then again then again, then again. Until a comment come in, from your dad, you feel your body tense, and your heart speed up, you click on the notification “good job, hommie,” and in one breath all of the tension is released, you expected more, but something about the short and sweet recognition feels like it’s packed with more care than any long winded acceptance of my identity could have been. But dad is not your only family so you refresh again, and see a few messages have come in, from mom, 2 aunts, and grandma, all slight variations on “I love you,” which you are a bit disappointed in, it feels like a cop out really, like grunting during a conversation so the other person knows you heard them, but it’s better than negativity you suppose. One of your uncles, he gave you a short paragraph, a heart-warming acceptance of your identity and empowering message about knowing who you are and not letting anyone take that away from you. You’re glad that your family was so positive about you coming out, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed there wasn’t some negativity. You spent so long preparing to flex on the haters that it’s a little upsetting you didn’t get the chance, like how you were a little disappointed that no one ever tried pressuring you into doing drugs in school, all that preparation for nothing.

Now you know who you are, your family and friends know it too. You can live your life without uncertainty, and without fear that you are being anyone other than yourself. You are Jonathan Xavier Dunleavy, you are asexual, and you are happy with who you see in the mirror.