#Aerosol Assault

[skyovereuropeldkde]

#Aerosol Assault #Sun Halo Chembwo #Chemtrail #Weather Modification #Climate Manipulation #17th September #Sky over Germany #19th September 2023

[averygaylemon]

I feel like we really underestimate physical bullying a lot. If a kid gets beat up by a classmate, its bullying. If a kid gets purposely injured by a classmate, its bullying. If a kid gets stuff painfully thrown at them, its bullying. We need to stop sugarcoating it. Its assult. Calling it 'bullying' makes it sound less bad, but its actually the same as assult. It causes pain and trauma.

I got bullied a lot the entire time I was at school, and sometimes it got really bad. And I never realised how bad it was because I didn't class it as assault. But it is assault, and it was bad enough to the point where I wont walk down certain streets, and I always have a defense plan when I'm on public transport.

Assault is literally a crime and yet kids and teens put up with it every day and do nothing about it because they think that because its just bullying, its not as bad. And I think that this is a big problem that has gone seriously overlooked.

#i always hold my r*pe alarm on public transport just incase #or some type of aerosol #the school bus was the worst for me #the first time I was badly assulted #i was 9 #mental health #assault #school #bullying

[helloescapist]

Sincerely, | Daki

Word Count: 5052

Setting: Daki x fem!reader

Content Warning(s): suggestive, ecchi content, reader is a low key perve (but like, who isn’t in their teen years), will have mentions of assault, girlxgirl, yuri, modern AU

Summary: the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach, the press of your heart that pounds in the moments you see her. The soft of her sigh, the tender moments, the way her fingers thread through your hair, despite how hard you tried to deny it, you knew what this was.

Part I , Headcanons

Neon lights glowed in the distance, luminescent reflections amongst the glimmer of snow that touched upon the ground. Stowed away between narrow buildings, stairs escape that rusted and groaned with age. The distinct glow of night life echoed amongst the buildings, revealing slips of images plastered amongst brick walls, slips of wood that gave way to age.

Chipped wood against aerosol paintings, graphic images. Some acts of vandalism are well composed and detailed, others simplistic scribbles reflecting childish images reminiscent of rakugaki drawings upon school desks. Etched into shaky lines, and faulty work. Nightlife bustled amongst music, clatter of heels against sidewalk. Lovers intertwined and boozed squeezed between giggles, enticed by liquored promises. Late hours attract illicit workers, flirtatious and loud, beckoning onlookers. Interdicted mixed amongst the foot traffic, drawn smiles evoke false security in victims as they danced amongst the interlopers. Rouged lips and enticing fingers, honeyed words pressed to those who dared to stray close to entrances.

              Daki’s fingers wound playfully through her lover’s hair. The rouge upon her lips roughly smeared between teasing lips as the glow of neon lights lit aflame in her chartreuse eyes. Emeralds that toyed dangerously as she allowed her nails to graze across his shoulder as he burrowed his nose into the nape of her neck. The exasperated gasp that lit her lungs as her nose began to wrinkle. The jerk of her shoulders pressed into the building that supported her weight, Daki’s temper began to flare at the biting remarks slipped from her tongue met the stray of his hand up her skirt. “Enough,” she ordered, slapping his hand from her thigh. The hiss of a threat posed as a knife against his neck as his insistence led him to invade further. The push of her hand against his shoulder blade met with his larger hand, how had it never occurred to her the significant difference in their size until this moment. Tangled his grasp around her writ wretched above her head in a way that forced the air from her longs, anguish whine that snapped. “S-Stop it,” she hated it. All of it. Daki could taste the desperation upon her tongue, the way her words quivered and the shiver of her body as his fingers traveled further and further with each wiggle of his digits. The heat of his breath pressed between her collar bone and the nape of her neck, the small hitches indicating the delight he found in the way her body trembled against the press of his knees.

              “Go ahead, cry,” he purred in delight. Allowed his chuckle to beginning to resonate against her bones. The tear of his teeth against her flesh, sharp against her shoulder blade. The fear blossoming into her senses, wretched her body as much as she could, the difference. Oh shit, how had she never noticed how big he was? Clutched thighs, knee caps that struggled against one another strained at the press of his knee. Forceful as he coerced his knee between her legs. Allowing his free hand to fondle the buttons at her breast. Delighting in the tremble of her cries, fright beginning to seize Daki’s awareness. The flit of her eyes traced upon the alleyway. Abandoned and empty, a fun escape from their night on the town gone awry with a fiend that danced upon her daydreams. Toyed with her in way that threatened bile in the bae of her throat. Struggled to choke down sobs as the tears formed in her large eyes. Dismay at her surroundings, each moment falling on a life time as she became painfully aware—no aide would be coming. Tucked away from the main street, slipped behind a dumpster, her cries drowned out by the tumult of the escorts, lost amongst the music of bars and night clubs. The realization drawn upon understanding, the preconceived notion of what the night had in store.

              The pop of buttons, torn from their secure threading exposed to the night air. Bites that littered her flesh, teeth that bruised her skin, drew blood at each press of his teeth against her bone. The smug shitful delight he hummed into her flesh. As though determined to leave all traces of his essence.

              Daki bit down upon her tongue. Clenched her tongue, willed her tears to sremain. Swallowed cries and fought back the bile that threatened to sear her soul, wretched her head from sight. Refused to allow him to savor her tears, pressed her eyelashes together, determined to keep fallen prayers tucked to her cheek as her jaw strained to contain her terror, her rage.

              I will not beg.

Exhaustion hung on your shoulders, another failed lesson, you thought with a sigh as you pressed your head to the vending machine. Willed your fingers to find the coffee cans displayed in a ray of colors. Each promise of concentrated caffeine is more enticing than the next. Struggled to catch the yawn that threatened to slip past the back of your hand, as you pressed against the cold display glass, fingers fumbling over the controls. The late hours were beginning to wear on you, fatigue close to claiming you, and with it intrusive thoughts—what were you even trying to do? Daki had openly expressed weeks ago that she had no desire to continue tutoring. As if her open rejection that day had not been an indicator enough, she had gone so far as to write her withdrawal from college exams in bold pink ink, her resignation detailed between curse words and insults directed both at the instructor who had put her up to the notion, and well… you. Her contempt fully captured by her utilization of dedicating yourself to studying in the hope that you could escape to a place where people liked you. In as few words as possible, Daki had properly articulated that she did not believe such a place exhisted, but she hoped you would stay there. Rest assure, she had not intended any of the blows to be insult, rather, she considered them an appropriate description. Her depiction having gone so far that you had considered requesting a funeral rite by the local monks in honor of your self-confidence. What little had been concocted when you had been requested to tutor in the first place, evaporated into the night air. Rest in Peace, self worth. The press of buttons, really any at this point would bring forth the promise of caffeine regardless of concentration. Anything to spark a sense of life into your bones, just enough to see you home.  The rumble of joints interlocking, the shifting of product from within the vending machine that drew the small pause of your breath, the silent utter that whatever you had managed to conjure would be enough to ensure safe travels. Pressed the prayer between your lips as you fished the item out, and giving it a tactful pluck upon the tab, a content sigh that was not as satisfying as you had hoped.

              Yet, despite having buried your dignity alongside Daki’s resignation from her college entrance exams, you had yet to give up. Why, you could not place into words. Rather, it was as though your feet had a mind of their own, heaved your weary bones up the top of the stairs before the sun had risen, paused only for classes, and then to remain in the room you had agreed upon, left with little more than to wander the library’s selection long after the sun had set. She had made it clear—painfully clear that she would not be joining sessions once more, and yet, you had remained steadfast. Optimistic, and absolutely oblivious to the bristled regard she had for education, or perhaps yourself. Rumors had circulated that she had dropped out, Daki’s presence on school grounds was rare and fleeting, and yet… yet, each time your hand met the door, pressed between the track and the panes. You would find a whisper of a wish pressed to your lips, the flutter of butterflies within your stomach, and the pause of your breath in the hopes that garnet eyes that captured the riches of the earth, passioned and confident would meet your own.  Welcomed the snide remarks, her playful teasing at your tardiness, longed for the days when she would mutter over your stumbled words. Painfully aware that such days were over as you pressed the can to your mouth.

              Allowing yourself to acknowledge the exhaustion you had placed upon yourself, early hours, and later nights strewn across studying, and hopeless wandering of encounters that would not come had taken its toll on you, and some part of you had begun to wonder if it was not time to let this go. What were you even thinking? Daki had made it clear, you told yourself time and time again as you tucked the stray hair behind your ears. The touch of sorrow, a loss of what you could not place as your fingers captivated your cheek, grazed over the bottom frame of your glasses in a sigh.

              So many people in the world, each passing you by even on nights like this. All busy, and going, and for a moment you found yourself watching the bustle of the night streets. The enormity of the foot traffic pressed against your skin, lovers intertwined in an embrace cooed and shameless of their surroundings. Though, some part of you wondered if it was perhaps, you who was in the wrong. The lude way in which the woman peered over her lover at you, pressed kisses and a near enjoyment at your baffled state as you stumbled to give the pair space, pushed amongst the crowd. Tossed as though you were a mere leaf amongst a stream, scattered to the side of the building, jostled to and fro before plopping on your bottom. The scatter of your belongings that met with the ground, and all awareness drooped. The thought of lovers, so close and entrusted to one another. Regardless of whereabouts, careless of who may see, and just delighted in one another was foreign. Odd, and… well empty. The sigh you burrowed into your lungs as you fought together your belongings, stuff them into your bag, and retreat for home, an empty apartment void of life. Alone. Again. The drop of your shoulders, and the knot in your stomach. Pained and chilled, alone was something you were familiar with, and it was not expected to change. Studying… studying had not changed that. The crunch of papers that pressed into your bag, forced, and scrapped into one another. Soothed on edges, reprimanded yourself for treating them so callously. Clutched your drink to one hand, threaded your bag securely once more, and attempted to dust of--- oh god, please say it wasn’t urine—from your knees that had caught on your stockings. “Oh, god,” you whispered to yourself,

              Pungently aware of the unidentified liquid pressed into your stockings, Eyes that wandered the area, an alley way caught between one of the buildings. Toyed by the whispers of street workers, and delighted in their coos to potential customers, dreaded searching for the answer, prayed to discover a beer bottle as the source. This street had always been eventful, the fall of your shoulders, etched into neon lights that reflected across the fowl the odor of waste and garbage. Stockings hung from lines, brothels tucked discreetly from sight, and delicate waved into the night air. If anything, you shouldn’t have been surprised to witness the embrace in the alley.  Rather, you should have just been grateful to discover it was not in fact piss you had landed in. Hardly able to avert your eyes at first, shocked and horrified to have discovered lovers…. Oh, gods above, you needed out of here, you uttered in horror. Eyes exposed to far more than most of your curious internet searches had engaged, the fumble of your bag far louder than intended that curse from your lips as garnet eyes met your own. Tears that dazzled amongst their gleam and the can of coffee that escaped your grasp.

Water droplets rolled down her cheek. Caught at her jawline, the trace of water revealed the bruising of porcelain flesh. The snag of flesh that delivered the baring of fangs at the trace of her shoulder lines. The drape of her luminescent hair unable to shield the wander of your gaze, nor the shame in which her frame dipped. The wrath had long since extinguished from her garnet eyes; Daki’s eyes trembled with each press of the cloth against her flesh. Flinched at the delicate fingers formed around the cloth, nor registered the utter of words that fell between your unsure lips. Cautious, and tactful to whisper your sincerest apologies and intrusions. Voiced your intentions, announced each movement before you dared to touch upon her. The mangle of her shirt beyond salvaging, though you could not imagine such details were of concern for Daki at this time. Her eyes had struggled to concentrate. Quivered at the slightest touch, and the tears that threatened to shatter at unexpected noises, the hold of her hand braced against your arm as though at a moment’s notice, she would collapse into you, or perhaps within herself.

              The details were fuzzy. What little bit you could piece together, you dare not press. The rattle of her voice hitched and thick ached within your bones, and in the moment, you hadn’t fully considered your actions. The coffee can had left your hand long before it had occurred to you that you had chunked it at the creep’s head, threw caution and your term papers to the wind when you had placed the entirety of your weight into a single swing with your school bag before catching Daki’s wrist in your grasp, and fleeing into the emerging crowd. Far too aware of the bellowing way—whoever the hell that was had attempted to follow. Never had you been so grateful to live on the shadier aspects of town, his pursuit quickly deterred by the ongoing crowd of partygoers, and entrepreneurs of the night. Though, that was as far as your adrenaline had dragged you, the crash of reality had descended into your apartment. Face to face with the very girl who despised you, the tars that threatened to roll over her high cheeks, the smear of rouge that painted her features—nope, you did not dare press, and in truth, were completely out of your element. Pleads to call law enforcement had bene vehemently refuted, nearly drawing terror from her bones. Rambles of home, of a mother, a brother—details that seemed jumbled and rampant. Shook at her bones, the state of her dress, the quiver of her body as she clung to your arm unwilling to part. A bath seemed, well sort of the right step to go, told yourself you would attempt to secure evidence as much as she allowed the moment she dipped into the bath. Such openings did not occur. The moment you had attempted to guide her into your bathroom, Daki’s grasp had not relinquished, clung to what little pride she could managed that gnaws at her bottom lip. Averted eyes, and the length of her nails that threatened to dig into your skin. Swallowed the lump in your throat before accepting her nonverbal cues and aided. Told yourself that you would use swabs to collect evidence, though the horror of the marks had been more than anticipated. Sorrow at the shame that drew across her face as your eyes found the wounds. Heavy, and uneasy.

              Numb as your fingers worked to carefully cleanse the area, aware of the small moments in which Daki dared to catch your gaze. Fleeting, and silent. Wordless as your fingers threaded through her moon kissed mane, removed debris of the incident from her hair, whispered each movement before you dared, yet throughout the entirety of the bath, Daki did not move. Did not dare to breathe, nor did tears fall from her lashes. The clutch of her jaw remained as you quietly toweled her hair. Bit down pride, wallowed in the pieces she had managed to sew together, and for you, the struggle to soothe her. Painfully aware that an embrace ran the risk of damage rather than comfort. Solemn to the sight of her adorned, wrapped in your oversized t-shirt, snuggled between the sheets, and pressed into your side. Wordless, as though the passage of time could not be tracked as her garnet eyes peered quietly at you before exhaustion drained from her nerves spirited her to sleep.

              In the same breath that eased her to sleep, you had found any sense of slumber robbed. Left with only the small slips in which your shirt rolled from her shoulder in her sleep. Marks bared to her flesh, mournfully tucked away as you knitted Daki into the blankets.

The days to come were restless; Daki had made a return to school. Though she had yet to speak a word of that night, nor of her return to education, you had become increasingly aware of her presence. So much so that she had rattled your senses, the peer of garnet eyes between closed doors. Peeped between classroom windows, the peek of her eyes over the framing as she peered into your classroom from the hallway. Quick to duck out of sight as soon as you ponder what had encouraged the disruption from your peers. An occurrence that had not been missed, or an isolated occurrence. The upperclassmen’s aura radiated from behind trees, crept between students, scurred between classes and peeked behind doors, so much to an extent that you had begun to worry that Daki’s restoration to the school grounds was an act of an omen, a promise of death should you dare to divulge the details of that night. Caught in her glare, coaxed the shiver up your spine as you attempted to remain faithful to the mundane task pungently aware of how she stalked you like a predator. A venomous viper, entangled and intrigued by prey. Coiled, and tempted, lured to the spot outside of the classroom in which you were intended to offering tutoring. The stunned realization that you had continued your day-to-day activities led you to this fateful door—bashed yourself for remaining a creature of habit in the hopes she would grow tired of the chase.

              Daki’s long eyelashes battered against the shock; her eyes traced upon your form as the blush captivated your cheeks. Horrified your senses as the internal struggle engaged, the war of your next step, tactics that had fallen in anxiety. To turn around would mean to engage the vipers in a battle of wits, stumble into her trap, and receive the shattering blow. Practically able to feel the fangs upon your neck, but to press forward. To stead the course, would mean admitting… you had waited for her all this time. Clutched teeth, and searing cheeks, stumbling, and allowing your eyes to skate across your surroundings, desperate for any retreat. Any out that could be utilized for escape. Squeezed your eyes tightly closed, lashes that gripped one another, as you willed yourself to breathe. Reminded yourself to work the problem out—anything, anything at all. The only route of escape would be to jump from the second-floor window.

              I-I could make it!

              The rattle of the track, swift and course rattled your nerves. Elicited the highest of shrieks that breathed in humiliation. Touched upon all of your senses, slid your glasses down the bridge of your nose. Left your hair on end, as luminescent green eyes traced your outline, and rouge lips formed a delicate, knowing smile before allowing her hips to sway with intentional step. Slowly. Into the classroom.

Hours fell to days, and days fell to weeks. The snow had lifted amongst the winter setting, the fragrant peek of blossoms caught and tangled into the chilly air as spring greeted the youth. Children delighted in playground antics, toyed with one another in warm delight. Birds entangled, greeted the growing daylight, and with it, her presence had grown on you. Daki’s attendance had grown consistent, never missing a single school day, nor falling ill. Your bond had grown over studying. Her comprehension was far more capable than you had been led to believe when you had been asked to take this task on, and more so, her interactions with you had grown more insistent. Coupled to your side, snuggled against your shamelessly on the train ride despite your obvious shyness; Daki did not mind onlookers, and openly expressed so each day she tucked into your side Never offering so much as a complaint at the press of your bodies one on one, nor the whispers of the girls who had incited this chain of events. Days spent together, pressed between the pages of a book, her fingers through your short hair as she purred odd praise. Unaware of how sensual her behavior had increased, teasingly raked against your scalp as she uttered praise after praise. Wished to see your hair grow over time, the implication enough to rattle your heart. An odd hint of a future in which she may witness. Told yourself that Daki had always been flirtatious—and after everything that had happened, you allowed her to toy with you without question. Just happy to see the small slips of who she was before begin to peek beneath her surface. Reminded yourself at the time she pressed an indirect kiss, shamelessly stole your sausage octopus between chopsticks, or how she giggled as she traced the high of your cheeks along your reaction. Delicious, she had purred.

              Reprimanded yourself for allowing her to toy with you, but found yourself smiling as you had prepared a bento for her that night. The shy way in which her eyes had traced the traditional lunchbox. Confused, and bashful as her long nails broke the seal. Confused, and pressed lips as her gaze wandered your own. Almost childlike, whispered the last time she had seen bunny onigiri had been a mangled attempt by her older brother. Pleased to have placed a blush on Daki’s cheeks, and even more delighted to be given a snippet of her private life. A brother. Little bits, slowly but surely as the cherry blossoms had grown, warmed and given little pieces of herself to you. To you alone, you thought. Descriptions, details of a life none knew. Such as the time Daki had discovered you in the library. The smell of her fragrant perfume bright amongst the stark aged pages, ironic in the way it portrayed your own relationship. Her presence a welcome breeze amongst a cold day, the softness of her hands, the touch of lotion as they threaded over your eyes. The press of her lip, coy as she taunted you with a delicate, “guess who.” Or how she had leaned against your shoulder as Daki peeked at the pages of the book you had been considering. Another piece of herself gifted to you as she whispered the imagery reminded her of the moon princess, a fairytale her brother had often read to her as a child.

              No, you had known far too long the weight of your breast. The sinking feeling in your chest. Her bright smiles, the eager way she waited for you at the classroom. The touch of her make up, or the small moments when she fell asleep on the desk. How Daki called your name across the courtyard, or how her hand, her fingers flawlessly entangled between yours on the train. Small snips of her temper flared when someone dared to look at you, or she noticed the shake of your body.

              No, you had known, and yet, diluted yourself into denial. Told yourself that this was enough, time was coming to an end, and with the entrance exams approaching, your time together had little to offer. Slipped between your fingers and found the pride of her scores as your own. Her efforts bore merit, the small gift her brother had dropped at the school entrance to her embarrassment like a child whose parent dropped into meet her friends.  Practically cooed as his hands rubbed her head like a cat, shyly praised her for a job well done before zipping off on a motorcycle, leaving only your favorite snacks in a nicely wrapped package, and the sharp remark that you had better not think for one moment she had ever told Gyutaro about you, or your snacking habits.

              Or the obvious shy plush of her face, and the pout of her lips the one day Daki insisted you call her senpai.

              You knew better, you did. You were smarter than this. Studious, and dedicated to a future, one secure in the hopes that… you wouldn’t be alone, and yet, and yet……. Yet, the envelope between your fingertips weighed upon this future. Frayed edges of what you had imagined. Torn asunder, and heavier than a brick between your fingers. Floral paper scented of rose petals and composed in delicate script all enfolded together in a pressed, light envelope closed with a ribbon. Girly, embarrassingly so, and the shame of how hard you had attempted to write a letter that would capture Daki’s interest left you feeling a small amount of shame. Fragrant, and feminine, the opposite of yourself as your teeth gnawed at the bottom of your lip, eyes that traced her locker. Her school mandated shoes placed upon the shelf, unmoved in the early morning hours. With this, you sighed to yourself.  The burdens of your heart, questioned sanity, and threatened to uproot your life’s cause. With this, you will have burned everything to the ground. Closed your eyes as the envelope pressed into your forehead, wishing for peace. For closure, a confession wrapped in acceptance that rejection would inevitable, but with its cold shatter, she could go to school, and you, you could disappear to a world in which you could be someone else.

              “Oh, what’s this?” High voice, nails across a chalkboard as swift as the hand that slipped the envelope from your fingertips. Tucked the envelope with sheer delight, cruel at the open taunt as her nails slipped across the ribbon. “Confession?” Leaned her chin forward encouraged by the giggles amongst the group. Sasaki’s grin was undeniable, your classmate found the mark of weakness, delighted in the way she flopped the envelope knowingly as her words knotted in your stomach. “But, [LN], you know who’s locker this is, don’t you? The boys’ lockers are over there, after all. Right, Fujiwara?”

              The cackle that followed, “who else could it be?”

              “Give it back,” you whispered.

Aware of the eyes on you, the pointed looks. Accusing, and dissecting the moment. Delighted in pray, and shook shoulders at probing curiosities as the letter circled around you. Each passed between the chorus of the entertainment, picked details amongst the clench of your teeth. “Oh god, you didn’t seal it with a kiss did you?”

“Give…”

“A ribbon is a bit cliché, what do you think she wrote?”

Bowed your chin to your chest, shattered silence. “Geez this reek.”

“Aw come on girls, it’s cute, isn’t it?” Sasaki purred before taking the envelope between her fingers. The grip lethal. “Our little [LN] is in love,” jostled, fluttered the bow you had tied repeatedly until it was perfect. Practically shredding the package in its approach.

“Give it back!”

The scowl that spread across her pursed lips and sharp as a blade that threatened to tear open your very confession, and read it aloud for all those in attendance to hear. As she did, her nail snug at the folding, “Make. Me.” You could feel your tears sear at the corner of your eyes before a bag slammed into Fujiwara. Her screaming echoed across the entrance way.

Followed by the slam of Sasaki into the ground. Daki straddled over the girl’s belly, forced herself onto the younger classmen, as her fists contacted Sasaki’s cheeks. Screamed and evident at the shake of her head. Unrelenting as the fist that made contact, bellowed as she inflicted blow after blow. Daki did not allow hesitation, offered no openings for the girl pinned below her, even despite the useless fists that attempted to catch the fistful of her hair. Regardless of how hard he had tried to use the tug of her hair, Daki’s blows did not slow. Fist after fist, blind to the screaming of the girls who could only look on at the scene in absolute horror. The sight of her, near venomous, a predator who had finally seized unsuspecting prey coiled around Sasaki. The rage evident on her behaviors, misplaced tears as you caught Daki’s hand in your own.

Painfully aware of the sharp gaze of her eyes, lethal before soothed quietly in silence at the sight of your tears.

“S-senpai, p-please.”

The sharp hiss she released, the touch of your hand against her own before allowing her weight to shift, Sasaki tore off immediately, bolted from the scene. The glare that sent the remainder of the girls reeling from the sight and horrified to be entangled in the scuffle a moment longer. Abandoning only you, with your hand still wrapped around Daki’s wrist. The fumble of realization, the blush that ignited upon your realization. Her hand felt warm, shammed and rattled. “Oh, I-I, I’m sorry.”

“Say it again.” The note pressed between your fingers to your silent demise, struggled to understand what she wanted to hear as your heart thundered in your breast. Slammed in your ear drums. “Call me senpai, when you read this to me.”

The rattle of your hands and shake of your fingers, “N-no, no I, you see about this—I can explain---”

“Call me senpai,” her smile blossomed, and the rouge of her lips met the brights of her eyes. Daki pressed the envelope into your hands before whispering in your ear, “or I won’t accept.”

#🍡tsuyospeaks #demon slayer daki x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny daki x fem!reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

[theculturedmarxist]

Although many Canadians act as though the pandemic has ended, the airborne virus that causes COVID-19 continues to evolve at an amazing pace with devastating consequences for both individuals and the public at large.

The pandemic may no longer be a major conflagration but it still kills about 140 Canadians a week while morphing into a steady viral blaze sustained by dirty air, waning immunity and overt political indifference.

What was once a giant wave of acute illness has become a series of often unpredictable wavelets driven by ever-changing variants that can cause chronic illness. Long COVID, a disabling health event that can affect multiple organs and destabilize the immune system, now affects millions and continues to claim new victims.

A 2023 Danish study recently confirmed that about 50 per cent of those diagnosed with long COVID fail to improve 18 months after infection regardless of the variant.

Long COVID has taken a huge toll among health-care workers. Anywhere from six to 10 per cent of Quebec’s health-care workforce, for example, has been derailed by long COVID.

Seventy-one per cent of health-care workers impaired by long COVID reported that their state of health now interferes with their ability to function. Another 16 per cent said that they are often unable to work. Multiply this data across the country and then ask: How sustainable is this trend?

The cost of living in a ‘viral soup’

While the media focus concern on the potential next big nasty viral wave, evolutionary biologist T. Ryan Gregory says that threat seems less likely than before, but the current reality is nothing like normal.

“We are not dealing with Omicron-like waves but a viral soup,” Gregory told The Tyee. “We are seeing a near-constant high level of hospitalizations that falls just below overwhelming them but is nonetheless unsustainable. More health-care workers are getting sick and that just adds to the strain on the whole system.”

What worries Gregory, an expert on the evolution of COVID variants at the University of Guelph, “are the long-term effects of multiple infections and the sustained pressure on the health-care system and well-being.”

Yet the current impact of COVID — measurably higher than at some previous points during the pandemic — remains largely ignored or poorly reported.

Tara Moriarty, a University of Toronto infectious disease expert and co-founder of COVID 19 Resources Canada, recently tallied the imperfect data, and it is bracing. She calculates that about one in every 23 Canadians is now infected with COVID. We are not at the low point of the pandemic in Canada. To the contrary, compared with a previous time during the pandemic, infections are 25 times higher and the rate of long COVID is 19 times higher. Meanwhile the hospitalization rate is 13 times higher and deaths are 25 times higher.

In the middle of October, Moriarty calculated that COVID patients occupied about nine per cent of intensive care beds and 21 per cent of hospital beds across the country. (The average hospitalization rate during the pandemic has been seven per cent.) The estimated cost of this sustained viral assault is $274 million a week.

Governments peddling denial

Most governments seem intent on diminishing or hiding these realities. They avoid any talk about the effectiveness of masking in public places or the value of improved ventilation and filtration in schools and workplaces. It’s a demonstrated fact that the virus travels through the air in tiny smoke-like aerosols that can infect people at much greater distances than six feet, but the natural responses to this reality are not encouraged by our leaders.

Alberta, for example, now pretends that COVID is just another mild respiratory disease and reports its doings along with influenza and RSV activity.

Despite this push for “normalization,” only one disease stands out as a routine killer and dominant occupant of hospital beds on the province’s “respiratory virus dashboard.” And that’s COVID. COVID also dominates outbreaks in Alberta’s hospitals and long-term care facilities where masking and attention to ventilation have become haphazard practices.

Lumping COVID in with other respiratory diseases is also patently misleading. A recent Swiss study compared hospitalized patients infected with COVID and those infected with the flu. Those with COVID had a 1.5-fold higher risk of dying in hospital up to 30 days after infection than patients infected by influenza A. The death rate was even higher for unvaccinated people.

A 2023 Swedish study also found the death rate from Omicron greatly surpassed that of influenza patients.

And next comes the increased risk of cardiovascular problems. Medical researchers have long observed strokes and acute myocardial infarctions in patients after respiratory infections, such as influenza. But COVID breaks the mould here. Compared with patients with the flu, the risk of stroke is more than sevenfold higher in COVID-19 patients.

This is likely tied to the fact that COVID can inflame the vascular system through which the body’s blood travels. New non-peer-reviewed evidence suggests that even a mild infection can temporarily damage endothelial cells that line the interior of blood vessels.

COVID may begin with the symptoms of a cold or flu for most people, but it often ends as thrombotic or vascular disease in a small percentage for reasons researchers don’t clearly understand. The virus can therefore infect multiple organs from the brain to the kidneys.

Immune systems and long COVID

COVID can also unsettle the immune system by damaging T-cell response, as recent studies have illustrated.

These findings make all the more illogical the current, widespread blasé attitude towards the ever-evolving virus.

Let’s begin with diabetes, which itself stresses the immune system and makes it less effective.

Early in the pandemic, researchers suspected there might be a connection between having COVID and later developing diabetes. Now it’s confirmed. Earlier this year the Smidt Heart Institute at Cedars-Sinai organization in Los Angeles found that a COVID infection dramatically increases the risk for developing Type 2 diabetes and that this risk continues with Omicron variants.

“The trends and patterns that we see in the data suggest that COVID-19 infection could be acting in certain settings like a disease accelerator, amplifying risk for a diagnosis that individuals might have otherwise received later in life,” noted Susan Cheng, a senior author of the study and a professor of cardiology.

Another study found that the incidence of diabetes in Black and Hispanic youth has increased by 62 per cent since the pandemic. The authors noted that COVID can bind to receptors in the pancreas, resulting in damaged cells.

A Canadian study also found steep increases in diabetes after COVID infections. University of British Columbia researchers examined a large population of British Columbians (more than 600,000) and discovered that people infected with COVID had a 17 to 22 per cent higher risk of developing diabetes within a year compared with uninfected people.

Concluded the researchers: “SARS-CoV-2 infection was associated with a higher risk of diabetes and may have contributed to a three per cent to five per cent excess burden of diabetes at a population level.”

Related research has also demonstrated that COVID infection can trigger or lead to a variety of autoimmune disorders.

One recent Lancet study that looked at nearly a million people who were unvaccinated between 2020 and 2021 found that COVID cases experienced much higher incidence of autoimmune disease than non-infected people.

These autoimmune conditions included rheumatoid arthritis, systemic lupus erythematosus, vasculitis (inflamed and swollen blood vessels), inflammatory bowel disease and Type 1 diabetes mellitus.

A similar German study, which has not yet been peer reviewed, evaluated a cohort of 640,701 unvaccinated individuals with PCR-confirmed COVID infection during 2020 for the risk of autoimmune conditions. The researchers identified “a 42.6 per cent higher likelihood of acquiring an autoimmune condition three to 15 months after infection” compared with a group of 1,560,357 individuals who weren’t infected.

The researchers also found that a COVID infection “increased the risk of developing another autoimmune disease by 23 per cent” in individuals with pre-existing immune conditions.

The autoimmune studies confirm that COVID can be a significant immune deregulator. The Yale University immunologist Akiko Iwasaki, who has dedicated her lab to studying long COVID, notes that “there's misfiring of the immune response happening in the severe COVID patients that lead to pathology and lethality.” Even a mild infection can lead to this misfiring and long COVID, and this group tends to be women between the ages of 30 and 50.

Reinfection is no trifle

The autoimmune studies, of course, don’t tell us anything about the current crop of variants and what autoimmune or cardiovascular diseases they might trigger in the future. But the precautionary principle would suggest avoiding infection.

The highly regarded U.S. epidemiologist Ziyad Al-Aly, who also studies long COVID, has been very clear about the hazardous consequences of reinfection in terms of chronic disease such as diabetes, brain inflammation and heart disease: “Two infections are worse than one and three are worse than two.”

His most recent research shows that people with mild infections are still at risk for chronic disease two years after the fact. Patients who were hospitalized with COVID were at even greater risk for chronic complications.

“The concern here is that this pandemic will generate a wave of chronic disease that we did not have before the pandemic,” Al-Aly, chief of research and development at Veterans Affairs St. Louis Health Care System, recently told Euronews Next.

“Even when the pandemic abates and is in the rear-view mirror, we will be left with it after the fact in the form of a chronic disease that for some people may last for a long time or even a lifetime,” added Al-Aly.

The Tyee has repeatedly reported evidence that immunity to COVID from natural infection or vaccination is not long-lasting because of the nature of the virus.

The research now confirms that infections can even leave some people more vulnerable to reinfection. A startling Canadian study published this year looked at 750 vaccinated elders at long-term care facilities where COVID deaths continue to be high. They found infection with Omicron in its first wave actually made these inmates more susceptible to reinfection in subsequent waves. Counterintuitively, these people were more prone to reinfection than patients who had never experienced COVID.

“Our current vaccine schedules are based on the assumption that having had an infection provides some level of protection to future infections, but our study shows that may not be true for all variants in all people,” noted Dawn Bowdish, an immunologist and one of the study’s authors.

What our health leaders should be saying

The implications of these findings are plain enough. The pandemic has a long tail, and it can be found in a growing population of people experiencing chronic disease. Therefore, limiting transmission is still the most important public health goal.

We know how to do that but are reluctant to employ the tools. Masking in crowded public spaces or poorly ventilated buildings during periods of high infection is a proven viral risk reducer. Cleaning dirty air in workplaces and schools removes the virus and other pollutants such as wildfire smoke and should be an urgent public health crusade.

We might all take inspiration from what happened at one Australian school. Concerned parents studied airflow and then installed HEPA filters with the result that improved air circulation stopped COVID transmission dead.

Rigorous surveillance testing is also essential to inform citizens of the advancing or retreating COVID risks.

Vaccinations play a role because they can significantly reduce the risk of hospitalization, death and long COVID. But current vaccines will not stop transmission. Or end the pandemic.

In a recent study a group of U.S. researchers modelled a variety of paths that COVID might take in the future.

If repeat infections and vaccinations actually work to improve immunity and dent the pandemic over time, then models suggest infections and the incidence of long COVID should decline too.

But as Omicron demonstrated, community immunity is unlikely to be achieved via existing vaccines and especially at a time when vaccine hesitancy is rising.

In one pessimistic scenario the researchers posited that “a first infection may provide partial protection against a second infection” but the combination of new variants and complexities surrounding immune responses “could then increase the susceptibility to tertiary and quaternary infections.”

That means a good proportion of the population could end up with long COVID in the absence of effective public health measures and the development of a durable, transmission-blocking vaccine.

“More pessimistic assumptions on host adaptive immune responses illustrate that the longer-term burden of COVID-19 may be elevated for years to come,” added the researchers.

#covid #covid 19 #pandemic #long covid #public health

[cannedbeefaroni]

Why Didn’t You Stop Me? (Edward Nashton x Reader) (Angst)

This is part 1/2. Part 2 heavily contains smut. Read part 2 here

Summary: (Y/N) takes on a villainous altar ego after a severe mental break that leads to murder. An old friend pays a visit after seeing what she’s been getting up to.

Content: VAGUE DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND MURDER, BREAKING AND ENTERING, VAGUE MENTION OF A SHARP WEAPON DRAWING BLOOD, VAGUE MENTION OF ABUSE/CHILD ABUSE, DEPRESSION, PARANOIA, SELF LOATHING, CODEPENDENCY, (Y/N) CRIES A LOT

(Y/N) is referred to as she/her

I look for a picture of you to

Keep in my pocket

But I can’t seem to find one

Where you look how I remember

How long has it been since (Y/N) was in love? She’d be lying if she said she couldn’t remember, but she preferred to not think about it too much. The last person she was with fell off the face of the earth one day and left her wondering what she did wrong. Yes, she wanted a new partner, but after everything that’s happened to her, she has more to think about. 

She killed a man. Plain and simple. 

If her childhood and adolescent trauma weren’t enough, now she had another reason to seek psychiatric help. No one knew she did it. She had no idea how she got that lucky, but she didn’t know whether to be relieved or ashamed. She felt bad, but did she regret what she did? No. Fucker had it coming. She couldn’t count how many times she had called CPS on him. They never did anything. He was beating the shit out of his wife and kids. Even when she reported him to her boss, they did nothing. She saw the beatings in real time. She stalked him for weeks. Hell, she even recorded it. But when she came forth with evidence, she was the one charged for recording his family without permission. This world was corrupt. She had to do something.

It wasn’t her fault she was there that night, throwing out a broken paper cutter machine; and there he was, walking through the pitch black alleyway. She had a massive blade. She didn’t know if there was a higher being, but she believed she was there for a reason. She had no choice. She had to slice his fucking head off. Sure, maybe dismembering the body, and arranging the body parts and organs into a well designed display for the bastard cops to see was too far. But maybe she was just elated, finally feeling like she was on earth for a reason. 

Ever since that night she decided she was done pretending to be like everyone else. She became cold and isolated to everyone she knew, and became a complete shut-in; except for when she’d go out at night. Finally being freed from her own mental shackles, she decided to finally pursue what she really loved: art. The idea of her being an artist was shot down so many times in her early life, she never even considered it in adulthood. But now, she could use it as a weapon. She’d go around rich neighborhoods and important figures' houses to destroy them. She’d graffiti, smash windows, throw rotten eggs, and do whatever vile things she could think of to their property. 

Tonight, she was on her way home from a night out. She wore a painter’s filtration mask to keep her identity hidden. She stumbled around, exhausted. She was a mess; physically and emotionally. All of her thoughts were assaulting her head, and she sat on the ground on the sidewalk to compose herself, if only a little. She pulled a spraypaint can out of her bag, staring at the label. She wondered how people managed to get high off aerosol containers. If she could figure out how to do it, maybe it would help her feel less shitty. After pulling her mask down, she instantly regretted her decision as she spray painted the inside of her nose; and possibly her trachea, windpipe, and lungs. So, she threw the can aside and decided to just curl up and sob. 

Suddenly, she heard the footsteps of an approaching figure, and jolted up. They sounded close, but when she turned around, she saw a figure directly behind her back. She froze in terror, as they appeared to be some kind of masked thug. In this city, those were a dime a dozen, but she had been really good so far at avoiding them. She stared for a moment before realizing her mask off, and this stranger had seen her entire face. She bolted as fast as she could down the street. No idea where to go, but she just had to run. Not bothering to even look behind, she ran into a subway and hopped on a random train that was about to depart. She sighed a breath of relief as she realized that person hadn’t followed her on. 

She spent the rest of the night on various trains, trying to find her way home. If that creepy person had been following her, they must have gotten sick of her spending all night going nowhere. When she finally got back to her apartment, she threw herself onto her couch, filthy and decrepit. She didn’t care what day or time it was, she just wanted to sleep forever. Maybe dream about a better life for a few hours. 

Days passed as she returned to her usual routine, which only consisted of going to work for nothing but a paycheck, and sleeping. She held off on the nights out for a bit after becoming increasingly paranoid. She wondered if maybe she should quit and pursue a normal life; maybe settle down and marry somebody so she won't have to be so alone. She thought back to her past relationships of disappointments, especially the last one before she gave up on love. Everything was going so well, but he just disappeared without saying a word. She thought maybe he died, and somehow his death wasn’t on record. But the conclusion she couldn’t help but arrive at was that he abandoned her. She’d rather die than ever have to experience that feeling ever again. 

Every time she left the house she got the uneasy feeling that someone was following her, but she chalked it up to her paranoia. She couldn’t help but think that masked thug from the other night was stalking her. She thought about it constantly, and wondered what they could possibly want with her. She worried they were somehow related to the guy she killed, and they’re now out to get her. Sitting in the break room at her job, she stared at the wood grain on the table, going through horrifying possible scenarios in her head. Everyone else in the room ignored her, watching the news on the television. Randomly, she looked up at the screen, wondering what was catching their interest.

News anchors were discussing some new criminal whose picture was on the left of the screen. It was all too familiar. The freaky green mask with glasses atop, and wide eyes with impossibly dilated pupils. He was the one who saw her. And he’s apparently a major threat to society. She couldn’t even pay attention to the broadcast as she lost her shit internally. 

Was this her punishment? Was she going to die?

Days passed of intense paranoia. Every step she took outside the house felt like a countdown to her demise. She could barely function at her job and almost completely lost her appetite. She couldn’t understand why she was so afraid to die. Maybe she’d rather have her own say in how she leaves the world. She beat herself up over not foreseeing this: being entangled with dangerous people. There was never a chance she could just discreetly become a criminal without ever having to pay a price. 

In the middle of the night, she laid on her bed over the covers, just to stare at the ceiling. Not much went through her head, only vague dark ideas. She was exhausted beyond belief, wishing she could just fall asleep for once and not lay awake for hours. She tried reading, drawing, even just scrolling mindlessly on her phone, but she couldn’t focus on anything. 

Suddenly, she heard fumbling outside her window. 

She laid, completely frozen in place. Her apartment window had a fire escape, and it sounded like someone was climbing it. She wanted to scream and cry, but her body remained dormant. As the sounds grew louder, she slowly dragged herself out of bed, checking if the window was locked. Figuring a window wouldn’t stop them, she creeped over to a cabinet to retrieve a large kitchen knife. It was dull from use, but she figured it could still work to some extent. 

She wondered if it were best to just leave her apartment, but before she could think about it she heard the window lock click.

A person was crawling inside, caught behind the curtains. She held the knife tightly as she held her breath, shaking violently. As he got mostly inside, she finally mustered up the courage to attack, running to the figure and plunging the knife against their back. Her stabbing was too weak, and it ended up only plunging through the coat and cutting along their skin, eliciting a deep,  guttural scream. She screamed as well, mortified at what they might have planned for her. She jumped backward, trying to get as far away as she could.

The figure stood up, holding their bleeding shoulder, hunched over. As (Y/N) suspected, it was the same masked thug from that night. They stared into her eyes with the same dilated pupils, making her wonder if they were high on something, or were just naturally that scary. She held her knife, waiting for their next move as they stood panting in pain.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH,” they yelled, voice muffled. 

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” She screamed back, nearly shrieking as she tried to make herself scarier. 

“Trust me, you already know who I am,” they sneered. “I’m someone you forgot a LONG time ago. But don't worry, I’m certain you’ve heard of me now.” Their voice fluctuated between screaming and quiet jeering. They lifted themself up, towering over her. 

“Y-you’re some criminal from the news… I guess? A killer?” She engaged with him out of morbid curiosity, but she knew it was stupid to do. For some reason, there was something deep inside her wanting to know more about this person. 

“Playing dumb gets you nowhere, sweetie. Everyone’s heard of The Riddler by now…” 

“Uh… okay… w-was that what you called yourself?” she asked. She genuinely thought she never heard that name before. That news broadcast she saw once was a blur in her memory.

“I forgot how dumb you were…” he scoffed. ���Another pretty face with no brain behind it. Typical.”

“W-why are you calling me pretty?” she understood him calling her dumb, but the pretty part confused her. She felt embarrassed getting flustered at the backhanded compliment. 

“Because, darling, ever since I saw you that night, I couldn’t help but wonder: what was a pretty girl doing out on the streets in the middle of the night, huffing paint?” He slowly paced closer to her, laughing.

Every part of (Y/N)’s head was telling her to run out of the apartment and get help, but for some reason she was captivated by his presence. Even though she knew this man was dangerous, him speaking the word ‘pretty’ rang through her ears and drove her insane. Besides that, she worried that making a run for it would only put her in more danger if he could catch her; so she ended up staying in place, allowing him to get ever so slightly closer.

“You’re not one to judge what I do.” she responded coldly. 

“It takes one to know one, sweetheart. I know you’re doing bad things. You can’t hide it from me. I’ve seen you smash windows, and paint beautiful murals of death and decay on those disgusting bourgeois mansions. You need to stop acting innocent.”

She couldn’t tell whether he was tearing her down or praising her. She hung on every positive word he used toward her, even though she felt incredibly patronized. 

“I’m not like you…” she chewed on her lip, face growing hotter from either anger or embarrassment. 

“I know you think you’re better than me. You look at me and feel grateful that you’re not as disgusting. You’re just as bad. You’re fucked up but you won’t even admit it. You’d rather play businesswoman all day and keep your dirty secrets in the shadows like a liar.” he circled around her, spitting out the words cruelly.

“I’m horrible…” her voice cracked, staring at the floor as tears pooled in her eyes.

“Oh great, now you admit it and feel sorry for yourself. It’s pathetic. You don’t even know you could have it so much worse. Why don’t you go run to your boyfriend and cry about how terrible you feel?”

“What…? I-I don’t even have a boyfriend!” she snapped, confused at where that even came from.

“Please, you could easily get one if you wanted. It doesn't matter,” he scoffed. 

“I’ve been trying for six years!” she screamed. A dead silence rang out. “I tried so hard… b-but ever since my last boyfriend just… disappeared… I can’t move on. I want him back… I want him back so bad. But it doesn’t matter if he came back, he’d never want me again... I’ve ruined myself. I’m a monster. No one will ever want me again!” She whined desperately and heaved. She dropped the knife to the floor and covered her face with her hands. 

“What did you do?” he spoke after moments of silence.

“I can’t say,” she rubbed her puffy eyes. 

“You’re becoming like me, aren’t you?” 

“No! I won’t, I can’t! I don’t wanna do it ever again!” she cried out. 

“I can tell you killed someone just by how you’re reacting, sweetheart.” 

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT,” she shrieked as she punched him across the face, knocking his glasses off his masked face.

He fell backwards, grabbing his nose as he groaned. Once he got up, he stared at her intensely for a few moments. She buried her face back into her hands and sobbed heavily.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. She picked her head up and wiped her eyes. He pulled off his mask and dropped it on the floor. She stared for a minute as tears ran down her face. 

“Eddie- Edward.” she croaked. “But… why?” 

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Oh, Eddie…” she approached him slowly, reaching her hand to his face as he stood motionless. Back when they were together, she always worried about him hurting himself; doing things that’d he regret. He was almost never happy, and his trauma got in the way of almost every aspect of his life. She thought back to all the times she wished she could’ve helped him, but she didn’t know how because she was also broken. “I wish I could’ve saved you… I'm sorry…”

Her shaky hand cupped his sweaty cheek as her thumb caressed his face. She wept as she stared into his cold eyes. 

“(Y/N)… you were my angel. I never loved anyone like I loved you. I thought you deserve someone better, that's why I left. But… look where we are now.” he spoke somberly, resting his face against her hand. “I never wanted you to sink to my level… I thought you would have moved on and had a family by now.” 

“I can’t…” she cried. “I tried but I just couldn’t love anyone else. You’re the one I want to be with. If I’m going to be a monster-” she choked on her sobs. She sniffed deeply and wiped her tears and snot. “I want to at least be a monster with you.” 

“Sweetheart… I’m not the same man you fell in love with…”

“Please, let me try to love you again. I missed you so much. I needed you.” she sobbed. 

Edward grabbed her arms firmly and pulled her close into a tight hug. It didn’t feel like it used to, between the layers of dirty clothes and thick gloves. Despite the smell and the roughness of his coat, she held onto him for dear life. She wailed into his shoulder as tears stained it. 

At this point, there was nothing to do. Neither of them had any idea of what would come of this. Even trying to imagine what the next day would look like was impossible. (Y/N) couldn’t help imagining leaving everything behind with Edward so they could finally live peaceful lives together. The thought only made her more sad. She hadn’t a clue what he even thought of her now. She didn’t even know how she felt about him anymore.

Part 2 (smut)

#the riddler x reader #the riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #paul dano riddler

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1138

TW: Aerosol burns / mentions of self harm

I’ve been thinking about aerosol burns.

Your tied-up whumpee is caught off guard when the whumper enters, carrying a couple of cans of deodorant. They’re wearing a respirator mask and glasses.

“What you’re gonna make me smell like [Lynx Africa]?” The whumpee asks. (Other deodorant brands are available)

“I know, that could be considered torture enough.” The whumper hummed, uncapping the can and yanking the whumpees trouser leg up.

“But we’re just getting started… I want to experiment with some different techniques and figured you’d be my perfect guinea pig.” The whumper says before they start to spray.

The pain isn’t instant, but the skin of your whumpees leg starts to burn and sting at the assault. They hiss, trying to pull away, but that only encourages the whumper more. The small room quickly fills with the scented gas, and the whumpee chokes and coughs as their eyes water. The whumper wearing the respirator is nonplussed. Whilst the whumpee is distracted, they grab a fistful of their hair, and spray the can directly in their face, causing them to splutter and cough and cry at the sting on their eyes.

Fortunately, the can(s) run out, so the whumper casually tosses them to the corner as they leave, making sure that the door is only open a fraction to leave the whumpee choking into the dark room.

At first, there is little physical evidence to suggest a burn. But overtime, your whumpees skin starts to turn red and blister, and the rough fabric of their clothes only irritates it further. The lesions inevitably lead to an infection, which only adds the whumpees misery.

More information:

Healthcare Utah (Article. Tw: aerosol burn trend)

Wikipedia (more general information)

ANZBA Factsheet (most treatment information I could find, tw: aerosol burn trend)

#basically I held my deodorant too close to my skin #and I googled aerosol burns out of curiosity #apparently it’s a trend??? #don’t do it. #it’s dumb. #but in a Whump scenario… #whump #prompts #writing #ideas #burns #aerosol burns #injury #skin irritation #tw: self harm #tw: aerosol burn trend #difficulty breathing #torture #experimental torture

[lfthinkerwrites]

Little Lamb

WARNING: This is probably the darkest thing I've ever written for Scarecrow. Scarecrow is a terrible, terrible person in this. If you can't handle that, Turn. Around. Now.

Content Warning: Stalking, Older Man/Younger Woman, Fear Toxin as a metaphor for sexual assault. No actual assault though.

Edward's gotten over-confident in the years since they'd parted ways. Careless. Jonathan's been following him from his office to his home for the past three days with his former lover being none the wiser. He's across the street now, inconspicuous on a park bench, watching as the man he'd once cared for, the man he could almost say that he loved, leaves the townhouse overlooking Robinson Park and goes about his business.

As soon as the green convertible pulls away from the curb, Jonathan makes his move. The plan is to break into the home, kill anyone who may be inside, for Jonathan knows that someone's inside, there must be someone that Edward goes home to, the slut never could stand being alone for long, and wait. Wait for Edward to return, wait for him to see the catatonic ruins of whoever waits at home for him, and then strap him down and demand an answer for why he'd left him without a word or trace eight years ago.

Jonathan barely gets to his feet before the townhouse door opens again. He waits, curious to see who emerges. A house cleaner? A spouse? A younger model to keep Edward's bed warm. A girl emerges, shutting the door behind her and bounding down the steps to the street.

Jonathan catches sight of her face and freezes. Even from a distance, he can see the resemblance. Not a spouse. A daughter. Edward has a daughter. He waits until the girl turns her back, then follows her across the street, slowly but surely.

He keeps a distance between them of about twenty-five feet, far enough that she doesn't notice, but close enough for him to observe her, and take in every detail of her appearance. She's a little thing. She'd barely come up to Edward's shoulder if he had to guess. She's wearing an oversized Gotham University sweatshirt that makes her seem smaller, emphasizing her youth. She is a little thing...

A college student. Edward himself had never gone to college. She had to be at least eighteen then. But Edward had only left him eight years ago. Which meant that her existence had predated their relationship. Edward had never said a word about her. The familiar anger bubbles up into Jonathan's chest. Another secret he'd kept from him, another lie. Was she the reason he left? Had Edward been forced to choose between them, and picked this little bastard?

Jonathan's eyes are burning holes into the girl's back. Bastard. Interloper. Thief. She pauses, then turns around at the exact second Jonathan ducks into an alley. More aware of her surroundings than her Daddy then.

Thanks to his height, Jonathan can just peek around the alley wall and see her face. Her rounder face was softer than her father's. She has his eyes though. His big, bright, green eyes. She also has freckles, like little specks of blood on her soft face. He feels his fingers slip into his coat pocket for his aerosol fear toxin. He could do it now. One spray and she'll be screaming, crying. Does she sound like her father? Would she scream for him like her Daddy did?

Her eyes are scanning, searching. Jonathan could end it now. Why is he hesitating? Maybe if he could see any trace of the whore who'd given birth to her, he could, but instead, he sees her father. The man who'd betrayed him and vanished. The man who he had known so intimately, inside and out. For a split second, he sees Edward, but younger, softer...prettier. Her eyes were bigger, greener. Could he make her cry the way he used to make her Daddy cry?

The girl scoffs, shakes her head, turns on her heel, and continues walking. Jonathan is quick to follow. His eyes drift to her hair. Not her father's hair, copper and dulled with age, but a bright red crown of fire. He doesn't notice that her phone is out, that she's texting someone.

No, he thinks. He won't kill her. It would be a waste, He'll take her. She's such a little thing it would be easy to disappear down a Gotham alley with her. He'll take her, he'll keep her, he'll teach her why she shouldn't steal things away from him. Take the thing that Edward abandoned him for, that he must have loved more than anything, and hollow her out until there was nothing but a shell, her pretty little mouth, Edward's mouth, open in a silent scream. Yes, he'll take his time with her, he'll taste her tears, know her fears as intimately as he'd known her Daddy's.

He doesn't notice someone on the roof above, stalking him as he stalks her.

Suddenly, the girl bolts, running down an alley to her right. Jonathan curses and gives pursuit, weaving through the small crowd on the sidewalk. No, you don't, little lamb. There's no escape from the Scarecrow when he has you in his sights.

He finds her at a dead end, almost as if she's waiting for him. She turns as his footsteps approach her, and he sees the pink on her cheeks. "What's wrong, little lamb?" he calls out to her as he approaches. Her eyes grow even wider. He can already see her fear. What a delightful specimen she'll be. Maybe he won't kill her at all. Maybe he'll keep her after he kills Edward. "Scared?"

The girl's eyes dart upwards. And then she smirks. One of her father's smirks that used to get on his last nerves. "You are so fucking dead," she says in a voice not like Edward's at all. "Riddle me this, asshole: what am I looking at?"

Jonathan turns. He barely has time to notice a flash of black before he hits the ground.

#not pi verse #imagine this is an au where ed got out of the rogue life after ellen's mom died #scarecrow

[xxlordalexanderxx]

@hannah-the-small replied

"Aerosols, its uh... cleaning chemical. But its flammable. Thats why it burned you when you coughed, but people shouldn't be spraying that in anyones face." James had a cool pitcher of water which he offered to his mate.

​He takes the offered pitcher eagerly, and dumps the cool water over his face. He was not a fan of the cold but oddly enough it soothed the unpleasant burning of the spray. This was burning that was far different from what he was used too.

"Thank you James...that little bastard assaulted me with that concoction."

#hannah-the-small #|🥩IC🥩|

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

I was really sick over the weekend and then I came back today and found out that this asshole kidin 5th period---- the same one who destroyed a brand new computer the first week of school by pouring an entire container of glue into it--- has been coming up behind me and spraying me with some kind of aerosol stuff just to watch me choke.

I nearly died of an asthma attack about 4 years ago and lost my sister to an asthma attack 6 years ago.

I had already told the principal that someone was doing it but I didn't know who but he wouldn't come in and investigate. I called the assistant today and she got the kid to confess that he was the one but I don't think anything is happening to him.

If he does it again I really want to press charges but I don't know if I'd be able to.

I talked to a friend of mine in Corpus who is a cop and he said the best I would probably be able to do is maybe disorderly conduct. What I really want to do is get him for assault.

WTF is wrong with these kids???

#teaching in texas #covid generation #every day is worse than the last #horrible children #5th graders

[starboygrove]

Surviving Eddie Munson - Prologue

“Eddie! No! God dammit!” Dustin screams when he realizes the elder teen isn’t coming back to the safety of Hawkins. The makeshift bed sheet rope has been cut, and he knows that the clock is ticking. He has to think of something, fast.

He runs throughout the Munson trailer, looking for anything he could possibly use to defend them against the bats. If Eddie isn’t backing down, then neither is he. Dustin finds himself in the bathroom, eyes scanning the small space frantically.

He spots it.

The ungodly collection of hairspray that seemingly every household has – or, at least, every household in which a perfectly styled head of hair resides. Shoving the canisters into a plastic bag, he hauls himself back to the portal entrance, readying himself to go back to The Upside Down. Although he might not be the most athletic person in The Party, he gives credit to himself when he manages to pass through the portal unscathed. What he lacks in upper body strength he makes up in sheer determination and will to live.

Dustin bursts through the trailer doors and spots Eddie down the road. He’s hard to miss, with the hoard of Demobats swirling around overhead and whatnot. Steeling his nerves he begins to sprint as fast as he possibly can, willing his body to move in ways it is begging him not to, one hand clutching the rattling bag of cans and the other death gripped on his trash can shield.

“Eddie!” He screams, voice hoarse from overuse. Finally, he approaches the hoard and slides on his knees to reach his friend, shield raised overhead.

“Eddie, lighter, where is your lighter man, c’mon!” Dustin babbles, hands shaking, pulling out cans one by one. He’s hurt, his friend is hurt, he has to protect him and save him.

The elder teen weakly pats the breast of his jacket, thumbing through an inner pocket and retrieving his zippo.

“H-hold, hold this okay, it’s gonna be okay Eddie, I swear.” Dustin croaks, eyes lingering over the all too familiar gouges in his friend’s torso. He passes the shield to Eddie who winces and lets out a guttural groan when he fully raises the shield above them.

“Prepare yourself!” Dustin screeches before lighting the zippo, gripped tight against one of the canisters of hairspray. The affect is immediate; a burst of foul smelling flames spew out of the aerosol, aimed at the hoard of Demobats that are desperately trying to continue their assault on Eddie.

The screech the creatures let out is unlike anything either teen has heard before in their lives, and despite being fried alive, their murderous instinct overrides any pain that would deter a regular animal from advancing. If these creatures even do feel pain, something Dustin is becoming less convinced of by the second.

It’s not long before the can runs out, and Dustin is grateful for the overwhelming amount of hair products Eddie has collected to maintain his look. With each can dispersed, the hoard gets smaller and smaller; by the time the last canister’s flame sputters out, nearly all of the bats have been at least partially burned, if not fully.

Dustin is well aware of the burns on his own body he has suffered, but his pain receptors haven’t caught up just yet. Eddie has regained some of his strength, likely through a new burst of sheer adrenaline, and sits up to wrap his body around the younger teen, shield still raised. The remaining Demobats continue their aerial assault, impaling themselves on the trash can shield, receiving puncture wound after puncture wound.

He’s all out of ideas, and they’re out in the open, with an unknown amount of particularly tenacious enemies attempting to literally rip them to shreds. If this is how they go out, Dustin thinks, he’ll die proud of himself at least. Proud of Eddie, for not running away this time.

Just when he thinks that this is it, they’re going to get through the shield and finish Eddie off, and rip his flesh open too, the remaining Demobats fall with a sickeningly wet thud. His ears are ringing painfully, the sudden loss of the sound of several dozen pairs of Demobat wings beating resulting in a deafening silence.

“Eddie,” Dustin groans weakly, the older teen slumping off of him onto the ground, his energy burnt up now that he longer needs to protect him.

“Dustin…” Eddie grimaces, pain written all over his face.

“How bad,” he grinds out, chest heaving. “How bad is it? What…even happened…just now?”

“I don’t know, but it’s gonna be okay, I swear. You’re gonna be okay.” Dustin says, voice wavering and tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t know if he’s saying it for Eddie or himself.

Moving Eddie’s arms out of the way, he gets a good look at the wounds on his sides. They’re maybe a little worse than what Steve got, a little deeper, a little bit more blood loss. However, now that Dustin can really focus on the wounds, he genuinely thinks that they are survivable. Eddie can survive this.

Wordlessly he begins ripping cloth, shuffling so the elder teen’s head rests on his thighs, to comfort him with human touch. He makes a mental note to thank Nancy later for the brief, but apparently useful, first aid crash course she gave them all after what happened last summer. He wraps the wounds to the best of his ability, shushing Eddie anytime he tries to speak.

“You need to conserve your energy. If I’m right, the others will be back soon, and they can help me get you to the portal. You’re gonna make it, I swear you are, because if you don’t I’m gonna have to kill you myself okay?” Dustin tenderly brushes the hair out of Eddie’s face, letting out a soft wet chuckle.

They sit like this for god knows how long, Dustin attempting to distract Eddie from his pain with the theories he’s come up with since the bats fell, silently praying for Steve, Nancy, and Robin’s arrival. Finally, he sees a distant flash of movement, heartbeat picking up at the potential friend (or foe) coming their way.

“Dustin!? Eddie!” Steve screams across the trailer park, voice hoarse and cracking. The trio pick up their pace, fear painted on their faces when they get near.

“Oh my god…Eddie!” Robin cries, stopping short, grabbing at Nancy for comfort. They hold each other and watch on as Steve drops to his knees, peering at his friends’ faces.

“Harrington…’sup?” Eddie croaks out, shooting for nonchalant and missing by a mile. He grimaces, craning his neck to look into the other man’s face.

“Do you think you can move? We have to get you out of here.” Steve says mechanically, already moving his arms to hoist Eddie up off the ground.

“We have to,” Dustin agrees vehemently. With the four of them working together, they are able to stagger their way across the park back to the Munson trailer – but not without an excruciatingly high level of pain and guttural complaint.

Steve doesn’t say anything but he does pointedly glare at Eddie when he finds the bed sheet rope has been cut. The ladies and Dustin lay the eldest teen on the couch while Steve maneuvers his way through the portal to set things up to get Eddie through with the least amount of jostling possible. Before anything, he calls for an ambulance, not wanting to waste any time getting proper medical care on the way.

He settles on grabbing Eddie’s uncle’s mattress as well, piling the two on top of both of the box springs. It’s just enough height that, when the remaining teens form the world’s weakest human pyramid, Steve can reach through and pull Eddie up…down...through the portal by his armpits.

The gravitational shift results in their bodies slamming together, and Eddie lets out an ear splitting cry, promptly passing out. He’s bled through the wrapping Dustin did, and a visible layer of sweat has soaked through his clothes, damp hair clinging to his face and neck.

The others make it through, and it is clear that everyone is becoming increasingly worried about their friend’s survival rate. Thankfully it is not too long before the ambulance arrives.

Steve is already pleading with them to treat him before they make it inside, and to worry about the criminal aspect of their client later. The medical team is bound, sworn to protect and treat anyone, but they do so reluctantly. He is adamant he goes with, but they refuse him, stating Eddie’s condition is far too critical for an additional presence in the ambulance.

The others waste no time following, Steve’s white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the utter silence in his car speaking volumes of the gravity of the situation.

*

“Then, a-and then!! The vines just…dropped! Poof! It was like a miracle,” Robin narrates excitedly, hands flying through the air, gesticulating with an over abundance of energy.

“It didn’t make sense, until Dustin told us what happened with him and Eddie.” Nancy supplies.

“Hm. That is the same.” El says softly, brows furrowed together. Everyone looks on, silently encouraging her to continue.

“I was also held by vines. I couldn’t move, or do anything, not even with my powers. Then…they just dropped,” she mimics Robin’s tone and gestures to emphasize how similar their experiences were.

“That’s when I was able to get him, to get…Henry. He looked surprised, I think.”

“So,” Lucas starts, confusion stricken features. “You…what was it, ‘piggy backed through a pizza dough freezer’ into Max’s mind, which got you into Vecna’s mind lair?” It comes out more of a question than a statement, so El nods in confirmation.

“And then, when you,” he points at El, “and you three,” he points at Robin, Steve, and Nancy, “were held up bondage style by his Vecna vines.”

“Gross, Lucas!” Erica protests, earning a soft chorus of chuckles around the group.

“Your words, kid.” Steve snorts, but he looks pleased with his pseudo-child’s choice of vocabulary.

“That’s at the same time as when Max…” He trails off, looking at the red head in question. She nods before smirking.

“Don’t forget about Hop and Joyce in the literal actual Russian prison!” Max says, tone clearly conveying how bitchin’ she thinks their experience was.

“So you were all effectively fucked at the same time, but then Dustin--” Lucas is cut off by the teen in question.

“Then Dustin saved the day, yes, go on.” He looks particularly smug, to utterly no one’s delight.

“If we thought his ego was big before hand…oh boy,” Eddie whispers from his spot on the hospital bed. Everyone turns to look at him, varying degree of worry on their faces. Steve is the only one that dares laugh at his joke, and even then it’s a small chuckle at best.

“Hopper helped, too.” El says proudly, beaming up at her father who is sat beside her on one of the several chairs haphazardly placed around Eddie’s bed.

“It was Murray who had the flame thrower,” he shrugs humbly, peering down at his daughter with an equal amount of love and adoration.

They are all now able to piece together what happened that night, with all the bits of stories slotting together to make a monstrosity of a timeline of events. At the time when it seemed everyone was going to perish at the hands of Vecna, Dustin and Eddie’s acts of heroism snowballed a cascade of events that would result in the defeat of their enemy.

By killing off even a portion of the Demobats, the weakened link between all the creatures was enough for the crew in Russia to defeat their array of monsters – also in a fiery demise. With Vecna in the mind lair weakened by the destruction of his cursed army, El was able to destroy his astral form and save Max, who was caught by Lucas and only sustaining a sprained ankle on the impact. She chastised him for his sloppy form, complaining that she’ll have to hold off on skateboarding for a few weeks, and just when the weather was starting to get nice too!

The clincher of the evening happened with the Upside Down crew, however. Once released from their vine restraints, they were able to advance to the attic and deliver a series of blows to Vecna’s physical form. After multiple shot gun wounds and set on fire, they watched with sickening satisfaction as his grotesque body crumpled into a pile of ash.

For some, that was just half the battle. When Hopper and Joyce returned to the States they were able to make contact with Dr. Owens. With a little secret government agent magic, Eddie’s charges were dropped, and the pursuit on El permanently ceased. The Doc was able to adjust the narrative to the best of his ability, painting a new picture in which Eddie was simply framed by the murderous, lunatic son of Victor Creel – the true murderer of Virginia and Alice Creel. Which wasn’t too far off from the truth this time, either. The Satanic Panic may have been real for some of the citizens of Hawkins, but this new narrative was enough to quell the general public into compliance.

It has been two days since the defeat of Vecna, everyone coming together to meet in a singular hospital room. Dr. Owens lingers in the corner, graciously waiting on Hopper to be able to smooth over the last details of the migraine inducing rug sweeping he has to accomplish. It’s a few hours before some of them begin to file out, not wanting to part from one another after everything that just happened.

Nancy and Mike leave first at the adamant request of Mrs. Wheeler, Robin following with whispers of a sleepover with Nancy. Steve manages to pry Dustin from Eddie’s bedside, promising to take him back early in the morning, and leaves with Lucas, Erica, and Max as well. Not long after that, Joyce ushers El, Will, and Jonathan out of the room after coordinating sleeping arrangements at a hotel near the hospital.

Finally, Dr. Owens is able to speak with Hopper alone, leaving Eddie’s room with the reassurance of a security officer being right out his door. Just in case.

They find themselves in the back of a government vehicle in the hospital parking lot, mounds of paperwork surrounding them.

“It’s a really nice property, I had one of my guys check it out earlier. There’s a finished basement and everything.” Dr. Owens says, showing where Hopper should sign on each form as he flicks through the stacks.

“No in ground pool though?” Hopper jokes with a flat affect. The Doc’s hand stills, and their gaze meets for the first time in over an hour.

“Do you want that? We can do that, I can make that happen.” He says seriously. The absurdity makes Hopper laugh for real, shaking his head.

“No, no. This is more than enough. Really, thank you, this is more than I think any of us could have anticipated.” He replies with full sincerity.

“Hop, this is the least I can do for you and your family. Here,” he says, pulling out a business card and tucking it in the pocket of Hopper’s button down shirt. “This is my personal number, you call me anytime you need anything. I’m serious, anything.”

With that, they continue on in silence, finishing the paperwork well after sun down. Hopper is brought to the hotel where he and his family will stay until their new house is ready for them in a few weeks, getting the best night of sleep he has had in years.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x steve #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #stranger things smut #steddie smut #steddie fluff

[the-pessimists-paradigm]

Into the Abyss

Chapter Three

(TW: depictions of vandalism, risky behavior, themes of rebellion. Reader discretion is advised.)

In my junior year, my misadventures with Aurora continued as tension escalated in her family life. Her mom started dating random men, as guys were brought home like a cat getting a dead mouse to its owner. She related several of these stories to me daily, clutching my shoulders as she spoke exaggeratedly. We went from stealing wallets and skipping school to meeting older guys, (I never realized how bad that was until what happened to Aurora), which eventually put a stop to the fun-loving girl I once knew. One of these times remains fresh in my mind.

We were ditching class for the fourth time, walking through the plastered halls, makeup with fancy jeans. But instead of going out to a diner, or a park downtown, we stayed in. Her blue eyes were glittering with mischief, as she recited her plan, her usual smirk painted on her face with a slight blush. The leather purse had an extra weight to it, not simply due to drugs, but an aerosol of black spray paint.

She had a motive that surprised me. The math teacher had failed her for speaking out about how stupid his lesson was. Fair, because when will I ever need to know calculus? I agreed with her in that class and called him a phony. Anyways, he failed her, her mom found out and was planning to kick her out her senior year. “I just can’t deal with her anymore, she criticizes me for questioning the curriculum, while she gets drugged and assaulted by old guys on the daily.” She stated when she saw me look down. “I hate this school, I hate the teachers, but you, Hannah, you’re like the only one I care about. And that’s why I’m doing this with you.” My smile softened, still a bit worried.

Her hand let go as she took the spray can out of her purse, clutching it until her hands turned slightly cherry. She signed an A, meant to look like a star. I put a heart with an H inside, as she bumped me with her hips, laughing. She tossed the can aside, running and dragging me by the wrist, chuckling. Until we felt the cold hands of security upon us.

The office was cold as the principal eyed us down with an unrelenting stare. Like many teens, we had a reason that they never believed, which prevented us from ever opening up again. Aurora couldn’t ask for a welfare check, because her mother would lie to the workers and neglect her even more. But at the end of the day, he had made his decision, she was suspended for vandalism, while I just got a warning. The principal’s wide nose only amplified the humor in his pig-like face.

We left together, sighing as we stomped out, her eyeliner running as she held my arm. The frigid air punched us as we stepped outside, sitting on a bench nestled in the outskirts of a cafe. Everything but our hearts were cold that day, eyes averted. I got her a coffee as she shuddered in fear. Her deadbeat mother would be pissed, “I-I’m not scared of her, I promise.” She sobbed into my embrace. “It’ll be okay, I’m sure. We can get jobs.” I replied, I hoped I was true, but I was mostly wrong, again. “What jobs can I get? Fast food? Hooters? Drug dealing? Oh, maybe I can follow my mother and become a wreck.” She laughed, frustrated. But that was her final choice, one that eventually cut her life short.

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#original story

[vinnaasblog]

Pepper Sprays Market to Witness Excellent Revenue Growth Owing to Rapid Increase in Demand

Pepper spray is a tear product (a chemical weapon that irritates the eyes and causes a burning sensation, pain, and temporary blindness) used in police work, counterinsurgency, crowd control, and self-defense, including repelling dogs and bears. Pepper spray is an aerosol spray that contains an inflammatory compound called capsaicin. It causes burning, pain, and tears when it comes in contact with a person's eyes. Its inflammatory effects cause eyes to close and temporarily impair vision. This temporary blindness allows officers to restrain people more easily and allows those at risk to use pepper spray for self-defense in order to escape. It also causes temporary discomfort and burns to the lungs, causing shortness of breath. If a person comes in contact with pepper spray, their eyes close immediately. You will experience a "bubbly" or "boiling" sensation followed by temporary blindness and eye pain. The effect lasts for 30 to 45 minutes, depending on how strong the spray solution is.

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[lahoreuniversity]

Why Are Self-Defense Products So Popular?

In doing a little studies on self-protection objects we determined that the primary not unusualplace utilization of the predecessor of stun guns-electric powered livestock prods-have been used on people withinside the civil rights motion of the 1960s. They have been at the start evolved withinside the Thirties as a manner to transport livestock along.

An aerosol self-protection spray referred to as Mace became evolved in 1965. It became the primary business made of its type.

Another shape of stun tool, referred to as a Taser, commenced improvement in 1969.

Self-protection nearly continually calls for greater than simply your naked hands. Aside from a handgun, that's a deadly manner to guard yourself, those nonlethal self-protection merchandise are surprisingly latest innovations made specially to help you in protection in opposition to an assault.

Nonlethal self-protection objects for non-public protection have virtually zoomed in recognition withinside the remaining 10 to fifteen years on the whole due to the fact they may be cheaper and powerful approaches to guard oneself. They are prison in nearly all jurisdictions with some towns and states having regulations on stun devices. They are tons much less pricey than a deadly handgun and offer a feasible opportunity to the lethal pressure of a handgun. It simply doesn`t make feel to shoot and kill a person for a easy domestic burglary.

So why are those self-protection objects so famous?

1. We assume the primary motive they may be so famous is due to the fact they may be so powerful. Did you recognize that each one regulation enforcement officials bring a pepper spray and a few form of stun tool on their application belt as their first line of nonlethal self-protection? In what's referred to as the "continuum of pressure" wished for compliance. Law enforcement officials strive verbal orders for compliance, then expand to nonlethal way which include a pepper spray or a stun tool, then eventually to deadly way which include a handgun.

2. Another motive that they may be so famous, specially with girls, is that a lot of them are available in elegant shades and styles. When it involves non-public protection and self-protection, girls are nevertheless style conscious.

3. Self-protection objects are prison pretty much everywhere, however a few towns and states nevertheless have regulations on stun devices.

4. And eventually we assume every other motive they may be so famous is due to the fact they may be smaller than ever earlier than making them simpler to hold and smooth to conceal.

So in case you are withinside the marketplace for a nonlethal self-protection object like pepper spray or a stun tool, you need to realize those 4 motives why they may be famous. When are you getting one?

This effective Streetwise Keychain Pepper Spray is independently examined to be 87% more potent than the competition.

The 3.eight million volt Smart Phone Stunner seems like a famous clever telecellsmartphone however is a effective stun tool.

Read More: How to Choose a Self-Defense Weapon

[theculturedmarxist]

By Lambert Strether of Corrente.

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” —Will Durant (attributed to Aristotle)

Policy on Covid in the West is being locked down around a few bullet points, as you can see from what was discussed at the recent meeting of the FDA Advisory Panel on Covid Vaccines, and what was not discussed (see additional material in today’s links). These bullet points (here numbered for reference) form a program:

(1) Mass infection without mitigation

(2) Intramuscular injection of vaccines

(3) Hospitalization and death as only metrics that matter

And a corollary:

(4) PMC who support this program are hegemonic, hence amplified; the exceptional others are at best ignored and at worst ostracized or attacked. (This applies to the media, academe, medical professionals, the political class, and agencies like CDC; NIH; HHS, etc.)

“The Ultimate Lockdown,” we might call this program. (Or perhaps “The Big Cheese Model”, as opposed to the “Swiss Cheese” model.) This program is serves the interests of many powerful actors, all of whom make bank on mass infection.

The Ultimate Lockdown is, of course, eugenic in character, and not merely stochastically. Continous mass infection by Covid is a recipe for falling life expectancy, already achieved in the United States, whether the cases are “mild” or not. As with deaths of despair, eugenics is what our rulers “repeatedly do.” It is what they are “excellent” at.

The Ultimate Lockdown is therefore opposed — implicitly, and sometimes even consciously — by many scattered forces. The most important force should be not unscattered but ubiquitous: hundreds of millions of those who are conscious that their lives — and the lives of their families, friends, and co-workers — will most likely be sicker and shorter (albeit marked by rental extraction even more intense than today’s). Perhaps that will happen. However, if you sort by the bullet points above, you will see other pockets of opposition, and those not without force. For example, people opposing the Ultimate Lockdown are:

(1) Developing or supporting vaccines that do not require muscular injection;

(2) Fighting (sorry; I don’t mean “‘fighting'”) on behalf of those suffering from Long Covid, or from the neurological or vascular damage that comes even from mild cases (in other words, for metrics other than death or hospitalization);

(3) Pursuing mitigation strategies (for example, masks and Corsi Boxes);

(4) Incorporating non-vax prophylaxis and treatments into their Covid prevention protocols, and sharing their protocols with others (as we shall see);

(5) Overturning outdated paradigms of Covid transmission (where would we be without the efforts of those exceptional aerosol scientists? Still washing our hands behind Plexiglass barriers);

(6) Amplifying the above five points and correcting or rebuking the hegemonic PMC.

In this post, I will focus on (1) vaccines that do not require intramuscular injection (briefly), and then on (4) non-vax prophylaxis and treatments. By so doing, I will be (6) amplifying the good guys. But first, I will briefly review — from the previous post, “The Latest Anti-Covid Nasal Spray Vaccine Science,” which was an assault on point (2) of the Ultimate Lockdown — how Covid enters the body, because understanding this mechanism undergirds every other measure we could take (that is, (1) – (5)).

SARS-CoV-2’s First Hours in the Body

As my companion piece explains, SARS-CoV-2 enters the body through the nose, and initially multiplies there. During this period, SARS-CoV-2 is asymptomatic, but can still spread, as the infected individual breathes shared air in and out. (Asymptomatic spread is one characteristic that makes SARS-CoV-2 so hard to stop.) Later, SARS-CoV-2 infects other parts of the body, including the mouth (see below). Therefore, if we really want to stop SARS-CoV-2 — remember, our current ruling elites are in favor of transmission — we have to stop it in this early period, while it is still multiplying in the nose. It follows that any sterilizing vaccine — the unfortunate term for a vaccine that prevents community transmission — must activate mucosal immunity — the nose has its own separate immune system (!) — which intra-muscular injections do not do. It also follows that non-vax treatments, that also may kill SARS-CoV-2 in its initial phase, can be very, very useful. From The Mail in the UK:

T-cells and B-cells in the mucosal layer can prompt a lightning-fast attack ‘pretty much the instant the virus comes in’, attacking it before it has a chance to infect cells, [Muhammad Munir, a professor in virology and viral zoonoses at Lancaster University] says. ‘These nasal immune cells get to work in a couple of minutes — whereas the immune cells made by intramuscular vaccines get to work six to eight hours after entry of the virus.’

This time difference, he says, is vital. ‘If just one virus particle successfully sticks to one cell it takes over that cell and replicates to produce a million more viruses in an eight-hour cycle,’ says Professor Munir, who has been leading the research into Lancaster University’s nasal vaccine.

‘That’s why the nasal vaccine will have the advantage — the immune cells it produces in the nasopharyngeal region can act immediately. It’s a bit like having the police sitting and waiting for a crime to be committed.

‘With the intramuscular vaccine approach, the police only come once the problem is there, and by that time damage could be done.’

I want to underline that non-vax nasal prophylactics leverage the time difference as well. If a nasal vaccine is the cops, perhaps non-vax nasal prophylactics are the neighborhood watch. Let me now quickly turn to Bharat’s just-introduced nasal vaccine, after which I will move on to prophylactics.

Bharat’s Nasal Vaccine

Hilda Bastian tracks nasal vaccines; her latest update was back in September, and presumably there will be an update coming soon. As she shows, nasal vaccines have already been introduced in Iran, Russia, and China. However, Bharat’s release is — or should be — really big news; it’s an enormous vaccine company that does a lot of contract work for other brands. From the Economic Times of India, “Bharat Biotech’s nasal Covid vaccine iNCOVACC launched“:

The shot will be on the Covid-19 list of vaccines and be accessible in private institutions. According to Bharat Biotech, the intranasal vaccine will cost Rs 325 per injection for government purchases and Rs 800 per shot for private immunisation facilities.

A primary 2-dose regimen for people aged 18 and older in an emergency situation had previously been authorised under limited use. Phase III trials of the vaccine were conducted on 3,100 participants at 14 trial sites across India to evaluate immunogenicity and safety. Hyderabad-based companies also intend to export iNCOVACC overseas once it gets licensed.

Bharat Biotech is currently in discussions with overseas “potential partners”, who have contacted the company about producing and distributing the intranasal vaccine internationally, according to corporate sources. The vaccine was partnered with Washington University in St. Louis, who created the recombinant adenoviral vectored construct and tested its efficacy in pre-clinical investigations.

(Perhaps some kind reader familiar with Indian sources can supply a link to the 3,100 participant-study.) From the BBC:

Dr Krishna Ella, chairman of Bharat Biotech, told ANI news agency that the vaccine was “easy to deliver” as it didn’t need a syringe or needle, and that it produced a broader immune response as compared to injectable Covid vaccines.

No cold chain. No medical personnel, trained in injection, needed. No hospital setting. Ideal for a country like India, and entirely opposed to The Ultimate Lockdown. (In theory at least. One sour note: The Indian government may not be procuring it; private hospitals may. Perhaps the views of India’s elites are much like our own?)

We now turn to what every really wants to read about.

Nasal Prophylactics

This is not an exhaustive list. There are too many products! However, I hope users will share their own experiences in comments.

Let me underline that prophylactic advocacy should be based firmly on a mechanism — exactly in the way that we assess a room to see if the ventilation is in order. That’s why understanding SARS-CoV-2’s first hours in the body is so important (ditto mucus transport). Modulo a “miracle cure” that really does cure, if one of these methods turns out to be unsupported by a mechanism, it does no good to cling to it as part of our protocol; we should either find the mechanism, or replace it with something that has a reason to work (if only to prevent others from imitating us).

Let me also underline that we can’t be waiting around for the RCTs (which are always in danger of being gamed by those who can fund them in any case). The Don’t Believe the Hype blog writes of prophylaxis:

Whilst I generally like to end blogs saying ‘don’t believe the hype,’ in this case it is unknown whether this is hype or not. As above, I don’t feel there is much to lose; it is at worst a harmless intervention, and at best something that could reduce COVID severity (and therefore, potentially COVID complications).

Finally, let underline that I view all this as a form of “citizen science.” Hence, my concern for a mechanism. If something works for you personally, that’s great, but it’s even better if we know why it works, so others have reason to adopt the protocol you have adopted. With that, I’ll take a look at four products; then I’ll look at a product ingredient (carrageenan), and a method (nasal irrigation). In no particular order:

Vaill CoviTRAP. Sadly available (so far) only in Thailand (and Cambodia)– though the Hong Kong-based Watson’s pharmacy chain may end up carrying it — CoviTRAP is a true “morning after” nasal spray. From a medRvix preprint, “A randomized, placebo-controlled trial of a nasal spray solution containing broadly potent neutralizing antibodies against SARS-CoV-2 variants in healthy volunteers“:

Successful COVID-19 prevention requires additional measures beyond vaccination, social distancing, and masking. A nasal spray solution containing human IgG1 antibodies against SARS-CoV-2 (COVITRAP™) was developed to strengthen other COVID-19 preventive arsenals…. Collectively, COVITRAP™ can safely and effectively support mucosal immunity at thepoint of entry of the virus, making it an essential and complementary tool in our preexistingCOVID-19 prevention arsenals. Nevertheless, a large-scale efficacy trial measuring COVID-19incidence will be required to demonstrate the efficacy of COVID-19 prevention by COVITRAP™.

I like the non-vax use case: After possible exposure, a spritz of antibodies (clearly useful in a tourist-heavy economy like Thailand’s). Yes, a large-scale trial would be great, but personal risk assessment: the cost is low, the risk and low, and the benefits are huge. So I wish this product had a commercial rival in the West!

Enovid Sanotize/Virx (two brands, same formulation). A Nitric Oxide technology, described in “Clinical efficacy of nitric oxide nasal spray (NONS) for the treatment of mild COVID-19 infection“:

Treatment with NONS in this trial was found to be effective and safe in reducing the viral load in patients with mild, symptomatic COVID-19 infection. … Accelerated SARS-CoV-2 clearance with NONS may reduce symptom duration, decrease infectivity period, reduce hospital admissions, and lower disease severity. Consequently, this study could be used as supporting evidence for emergency use of NONS for patients with mild COVID-19 infection.

Same risk assessment as above. A traveller’s review:

I won’t pretend that it’s very pleasant using the product, as there’s a slight stinging sensation when using as directed (slightly inhaling when spraying each nostril). The stinging is temporary, just for a few seconds. Our son doesn’t like it, although he tolerates it.

While it could be luck, we’ve remained negative for Covid while using the product, even while in Denmark, where we did have some meals indoors and were in relatively crowded areas such as Tivoli. No one in Denmark, apart from a few foreigners, was wearing face masks during our visit. We were especially focused on not becoming infected with Covid because our son had to test negative before attending a summer camp, which he did. We can’t prove it, but we suspect our family’s use of Enovid helped his odds.

I use the product regularly, and pleasant is not the word. Not too bad though! Not even “this may sting a little”-level.

Algovir. From “Recommendation of the German Society of Hospital Hygiene (DGKH): Prevention of COVID-19 by virucidal gargling and virucidal nasal spray – updated version April 2022“:

In the absence of a PVP-iodine based nasal spray, use a Carragelose®-based nasal spray (e.g. Algovir® cold spray) in the morning and evening; probably more effective is 0.23% PVP-iodine solution (self-production see above).

(More on Carragelose below.)

There is also the old standby, Betadine Povidone (iodine for throat, carrageenan for nose). See NC here and here.

Now to the ingredient: Carrageenan. From “Efficacy of a Nasal Spray Containing Iota-Carrageenan in the Postexposure Prophylaxis of COVID-19 in Hospital Personnel Dedicated to Patients Care with COVID-19 Disease“:

A total of 394 individuals were randomly assigned to receive I-C or placebo. Both treatment groups had similar baseline characteristics. The incidence of COVID-19 differs significantly between subjects receiving the nasal spray with I-C (2 of 196 [1.0%]) and those receiving placebo (10 of 198 [5.0%]). Relative risk reduction: 79.8% (95% CI 5.3 to 95.4; p=0.03). Absolute risk reduction: 4% (95% CI 0.6 to 7.4).

In this pilot study a nasal spray with I-C showed significant efficacy in preventing COVID-19 in health care workers managing patients with COVID-19 disease.

So check the label! Finally, nasal irrigation. From “Rapid initiation of nasal saline irrigation to reduce severity in high-risk COVID+ outpatients: a randomized clinical trial compared to a national dataset observational arm.” n=79:

SARS-CoV-2 enters the nasopharynx to replicate; nasal irrigation soon after diagnosis could reduce viral load and inhibit furin cleavage necessary for cell entry, thereby reducing morbidity and mortality…. A consecutive sample of 79 high-risk adults (mean age 64, BMI 30.3) were randomized toinitiate one of two nasal irrigation protocols within 24 hours of a positive COVID-19 test. Compared to aCDC COVID-19 National Dataset observational arm, 1.27% of participants initiating twice daily nasalirrigation were hospitalized or died, compared to 11%, a significant difference.

And from Augusta University:

Starting twice daily flushing of the mucus-lined nasal cavity with a mild saline solution soon after testing positive for COVID-19 can significantly reduce hospitalization and death, investigators report.

They say the technique that can be used at home by mixing a half teaspoon each of salt and baking soda in a cup of boiled or distilled water then putting it into a sinus rinse bottle is a safe, effective and inexpensive way to reduce the risk of severe illness and death from coronavirus infection that could have a vital public health impact.

“What we say in the emergency room and surgery is the solution to pollution is dilution,” says Dr. Amy Baxter, emergency medicine physician at the Medical College of Georgia at Augusta University and corresponding author of the study in Ear, Nose & Throat Journal.

“By giving extra hydration to your sinuses, it makes them function better. If you have a contaminant, the more you flush it out, the better you are able to get rid of dirt, viruses and anything else,” says Baxter.

“We found an 8.5-fold reduction in hospitalizations and no fatalities compared to our controls,” says senior author Dr. Richard Schwartz, chair of the MCG Department of Emergency Medicine. “Both of those are pretty significant endpoints.”

Mouthwashes

Now let’s turn to the next line of defense after the nose: The mouth. (Note that I don’t know whether mouthwashes leverage the time difference between infection and viral shedding, the way nasal sprays and vaccines can. Still, it seems like a good idea to kill the virus where found.) From BDJ Team (the online adjunct to British Dental Journal), “How a radiologist became an evangelist for dental hygienists“:

Dr Lloyd-Jones says: ‘It’s a simple concept – in those with poor oral health the mouth is like an open wound. The absorption pathway for pathogens passing across damaged oral mucosa is the same as for the skin – pathogens can pass into the blood but do not pass through the liver, as is the case for absorption via the gut. Oral pathogens have direct access to the systemic circulation, which explains why they end up all over the body and are directly implicated in the development of multiple important systemic diseases’.

He rang up two of his friends, one a dentist and the other an oral surgeon, asking whether damaged mucosa of the gums could be the anatomical pathway to the lungs via the blood. They both confirmed his ideas made sense, explaining that the gingival epithelium is easily breached by bacteria in plaque biofilm, so why not a virus? The missing link between the blood and the lungs, they agreed, could well be gum disease. Dr Lloyd-Jones set to work, developing a scientific hypothesis, first published on his own educational website in February 2021

(In my view, this is exactly how exceptional PMC should behave.) Here is a guide to mouth care from Lloyd-Jone’s hospital. And a preprint from medRxiv, “Brief Report: The Virucidal Efficacy of Oral Rinse Components Against SARS-CoV-2 In Vitro“:

The ability of widely-available mouthwashes to inactivate SARS-CoV-2 in vitro was tested using aprotocol capable of detecting a 5-log10 reduction in infectivity, under conditions mimicking thenaso/oropharynx. During a 30 second exposure, two rinses containing cetylpyridinium chloride and a third with ethanol/ethyl lauroyl arginate eliminated live virus to EN14476 standards (>4-log10reduction), while others with ethanol/essential oils and povidone-iodine (PVP-I) eliminated virus by 2-3-log10. Chlorhexidine or ethanol alone had little or no ability to inactivate virus in this assay. Studiesare warranted to determine whether these formulations can inactivate virus in the human oropharynxin vivo, and whether this might impact transmission.

So “cetylpyridinium chloride” and “ethanol/ethyl lauroyl” are the ingredients to look for on the label. Perhaps readers can suggest from brands?

Conclusion

I should have a peroration, but I feel like I’ve said what I’ve had to say. Let’s all contest The Ultimate Lockdown, especially by, as citizen scientists, developing protocols and sharing them. We can save some lives! Let us become excellent by saving lives, repeatedly.

#covid 19 #covid #covid19 #naked capitalism #covid prevention #public health #health #covid protection #covid vaccines

[miraldesigners]

Kid inhaling keyboard cleaner

Just think it is normal just like they think good Old Mother Nature is Normal. Way too Stupid because of the Dumbing Down Affect.Ī family member is in early stages of Parkinson’s. Even when you pointed it directly out in the sky. I told my own family and many friends about this and they just ignored what what I was saying. Gotta share that toxic Spray with everyone that is NATO. We are getting hit just as hard in Canada. Of course that can be predicted because of the ongoing onslaught of continual spraying. They tell you on the weather news that the Storms and weather are going to continue to worsen. The only people that listen are people that think outside the Box. I am not giving up though informing critical thinkers about this Geo Program. That was when I was Sheeple and didn’t have a clue about this Geo Stuff. I know because when I took the H1N1 shot I got so sick and couldn’t stop coughing. The Flu Shot is definitely a quick way to spread the virus and make you sick because of the Aluminum and other garbage they put in it. In Canada I think most are way too Dumb to believe in the fact. Good for Steven alerting the Public about this Sick Agenda by using Pizza Boxes and posting them on Highways. The video below was taken in Germany after a day of heavy aerosol spraying in the skies. Giving up is not an option, all that are conscious need to assist with dire effort of sounding the alarm. The population will not wake up on their own, it's up to those of us that are already awake to stir the masses from their slumber before it is too late. Every breath we take is laden with the contamination that is being constantly spewed from above, the planet is dying from the assault. Difficult to see in the daylight, a beam of light through the darkness reveals the nemesis we fight in this battle that we must win or all will be lost. How many nights in the forest I have done exactly this, to witness these chemical and metal particles covering everything that lives is beyond distressing. Though there is always some particulate matter in the air, if you shine a bright light into the night after a day of heavy atmospheric spraying, the fallout from the climate engineering looks like snow raining down from the sky.

#Kid inhaling keyboard cleaner

[fuelgirl40]

Treatment Switch the signal from Sorafenib With Only two Nucleoside Reverse-Transcriptase Inhibitors (NRTI) in Comparison to Continuation Using Protease Inhibitor/Ritonavir Between People Using Hiv vulnerable to Earlier NRTI Level of resistance: Any Cohort Investigation involving Real-World Data

The Globe offers heated up and that GHGs provide can be unequivocal; the global local weather awareness and also the effect of aerosols complicate answers to the question: the amount heating and the way before long? (D) 2011 U . s . Initiate associated with Substance Technical engineers AIChE L, 57: 3259-3284, 2011We now have decided your geometrical, vibrational, and electric components associated with N-acetylglycine oligomers by simply performing denseness practical theory massive substance computations. The standard setting investigation ended up being performed and the prospective vitality distribution has been calculated among the inner matches. Your visually productive vibrational processes of PGI happen to be dependant on choosing modes through the worked out results of the pentamer along with the observed vibrational spectra associated with PGI happen to be spelled out. The actual molecular electrostatic prospective surface of N-acetylglycine pentamer shows web sites of electrophilic assault and also gives signs to the function associated with electrostatic relationships involved in the reactivity. Organic connect orbital examination has been done to comprehend the particular fee transfer and various hyperconjugative connections in the molecular program #Link# . Your digital properties with the oligomers are already mentioned by simply figuring out the actual shifts by making use of time primarily based density practical idea strategy. The world reactivity descriptors including solidity, chemical substance probable, and also electrophilicity index are also calculated. (d) 2013 Wiley Journals, Corporation. Biopolymers 101: 795-813, This year.We all targeted to check cerebral oscillatory variations linked to psychological processes throughout simulated automobile generating. All of us recorded neuromagnetic alerts in 18 healthy volunteers utilizing magnetoencephalography (Megabites) during simulated traveling. Megabites information were analyzed using artificial aperture magnetometry to identify the actual spatial syndication regarding cerebral rumbling. Group effects involving subjects had been examined mathematically employing a non-parametric permutation test. Oscillatory distinctions ended up computed electrical systems #Link# in between "passive viewing" and "active generating.In . "Passive viewing" has been your base line, along with oscillatory variances through "active driving" revealed a boost or even decrease in comparability having a baseline. Electrical power surge in your theta music group ended up being recognized inside the excellent frontal gyrus (SFG) during active generating. Energy decreases within the alpha dog, try out, and occasional gamma rings had been found within the appropriate #Link# poor parietal lobe (IPL), quit postcentral gyrus (PoCG), center temporary gyrus (MTG), along with rear cingulate gyrus (PCiG) during productive generating. Strength rise in the theta wedding ring within the SFG are likely involved within interest. Electrical power decline in the best IPL may mirror precisely divided consideration and also visuospatial running, although that will from the quit PoCG reflects sensorimotor account activation in connection with generating tricks. Power lessens in the MTG as well as PCiG could be connected with subject identification.

#Sorafenib #Temozolomide #Caramboxin