#And will not doing so feeds into Mike’s reluctance to trust will later on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

and-stir-the-stars · 10 months

Note

Got the brainworms.

A Nest Torn Empty, the month Mike is away. There are some flavors of trauma that might interestingly suit that scenario. These are just little brainstorms, don't feel like. Compelled to use them lmao

One might fit the idea of being medicalized, poked and prodded. Psych test after psych test, evaluations and therapy as it was in the eighties, possibly by particularly shitty professionals who try to go the therapy version of "bad cop" and INSIST mike is lying just to see if he breaks?

Another might be someone deciding to enact some kind of revenge on Evan's behalf. This could go any number of ways, but I think it would be interesting if someone who has been in Evan's position before decided to try and create some version of "a taste of his own medicine" for Mike, though obviously without the near death bit bc of plotlines etc.

And then there are less obvious things that kind of get left out. Being torn from your family all of the sudden is traumatic. He doesn't know what's going to happen to him, or to his brother and sister. Whether or not he's in another abusive place, the sheer amount of differences could throw him off. All the rules are different, all the people are different. He probably feels very isolated.

(You're giving me ideas for the au where Mike thinks Evan died after they're split up, lmao)

In terms of reactions, I think there might be more of a shutdown than his earlier behavior. If nothing he's doing yields ANY reaction– good or bad– then why bother? I think a lot of it would just lead him to be very tired by the end of it all.

Final aspect that I think would be interesting: as the kids grow up and actually learn to talk about the shitty upbringing they had, I think Mike's month away might fall to the wayside for a while. Nobody else thinks about it; it doesn't come up.

Eventually, though, it does need to be addressed. Maybe it kind of pales in comparison to the bite itself, but the experience still hurt.

(Or disregard all of this! Just brainstorming dhfjdkdksk)

okay first off I think it's so funny that I have to outsource all my "how would Mike react to xyz trauma" stuff to you,, like how dare you know him so well and have so many tantalizing Mike thoughts /honorary /pos

i think my initial idea was more along the lines of like,, Mike keeps insisting that he didn't mean to hurt Evan, but the more the psychiatrists poke and prod and question him, the less certain Mike is.

All of Mike’s claims that "I didn't know that would happen" and "i didn't mean for him to get hurt" and "i didn't want to kill him" are met with stuff like. "So there's no history of you hurting him?" "So Evan hasn't been put in danger by your actions before?" "So this behavior is a recent thing that came out of nowhere?" And just like. General questions that, whether asked out malice or from people genuinely trying to understand if Mike is a danger to himself or others, only serve to highlight in Mike’s mind that maybe he is inherently evil, because every time he swears that he didn't mean it, he's just met with a reminder of all the times he has in fact hurt Evan and others before and with the reminder that he could do it again at any time.

The idea that there are certain "professionals" there who just insist that Mike is lying about not meaning for the Bite in an effort to get him to cave and break???? Oooooh boy. Angsty, I love it. Maybe as time passes and Mike gets more and more frustrated, his "medical treatment" and "psychiatric professionals" just get worse and worse as a result of his lashing out. It starts out with the psychiatrists just trying to be thorough and get a detailed understanding of what happened, and the mere nature of their questioning frays Mike as he interprets their questions as them not believing him. He tells himself that he's crazy for feeling so attacked by them when they're professionals trained to help people, but like. It doesn't make the problem go away. Mike starts lashing out as he feels like they don't believe him. And his lashing out is ofc seen as signs of hostility, leading to worse and worse "treatment" (in both sense of the term), and leading to him being placed with awful "professionals" who blatantly tell him to his face now that he's lying about not meaning to hurt Evan to get Mike to break.

And the whole experience just, like, shreds every sense of faith Mike had in his own judgment. He doesn't know what to do or think anymore, and it doesn't matter anyway, because no matter WHAT he does or thinks it has the same result of people just. Making him feel cruel and evil, like he'll inevitably hurt someone, like he's a monster and has always been a monster and is trying to manipulate everyone here in the psych facility and everyone he's ever known into thinking he's NOT a monster for his own personal gain.

Worst thing is that in Mike’s eyes, these are strangers who don't even know him or know anything about him, and yet they don't NEED to know him to know that he's evil. Mike coming to the conclusion that theres something so fundamentally broken about him that people can PHYSICALLY SEE IT, he reeks of it, it's the first thing people see when they look at him, the ONLY thing people see. People don't even need to know him to see straight into the evil in his heart. Which is only furthered when he goes back home and all these classmates he never talked to before are calling him a murderer, not to mention Liz's ambivalent reaction to seeing him again.

#Like low key there's an ask sitting in my inbox abt how saffron mike would react to smth #And I've just been staring at it like. No idea my guy. I am not the mike expert here. Lmao #Now I'm thinking about mike begging and praying for william to come get him out of this facility #And will not doing so feeds into Mike’s reluctance to trust will later on #And feeds into mikes frustration that will has been so absent #ie the scene where mike freaks out in ch1 of bcoh and he's like. FATHER should be #The one giving ev his meds so he doesn't try ripping his own head off from the pain so WHERE IS HE??#Like Will just. Consistently does this #Also mike not knowing what's gonna happen to him or liz or evan...#Do the psychiatrists even tell mike whether or not ev is still alive?#Does mike assume that liz is in a psych facility herself? She didn't cause the bite but SHE has been hurting ev too #Does mike wonder if he's ever getting out of here #And then no one in the fam talking about mike's month away!!!#Ur giving me thoughts for a one shot that takes place several years after the bite #With evan begging mike to stop pushing him away #And mike is just. So traumatized not just from going thru this but from no one talking or caring abt it #(On top of his normal trauma abt not wanting to burden/hurt anyone w his issues and not feeling they're important #And and and plus all the time mike spent trying to reach out to ev after the bite only for ev to be so traumatized that he kept #Rejecting mike) that he can't stop holding people at arms length.#A nest torn empty #my brother my wound #tw medical malpractice #Tw child abuse

4 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 4 years

Text

The Books of St. Berthwald and the Books of St. Cyprian

Amazing Moodboard by @von--gelmini aka @starker-stories

based on artwork by @starker-sorbet

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbaby

Sixteen: 6. The Books of St. Berthwald and the Books of St. Cyprian

“The Post sons cast from the German books, but the Post daughters, from the True Book of St. Cyprian, the Thesouro de Feiticeiro, the Book of the Witches of Evorá, The seals from the German book were set once a year, and changed as the Post land increased. But the Post Daughters set the seals of Evorá many times a year. They loved those rituals, they dreamed of them often. Spoke of them often. So delightful, they found them so delightful… there were candles and singing and joyful dancing… such joy…”

“Wait, wait…” Peter said when Tony’s voice faltered again. He slipped the last two fingers of his left hand into Tony’s mouth while he tried to think. Tony gripped his wrist firmly as he sucked, but at least he wasn’t clinging to it like a drowning man any more, no longer whimpering as he fed.

Several times during the story Tony’s eyes had fluttered closed and he began repeating himself, his voice fading away like a man going to sleep. Those times Peter had taken Tony’s chin in his hand, turned the pale face to him and forced his tongue into Tony’s mouth, letting his friend feed that way until he revived.

But Peter couldn’t ‘kiss’ Tony and ask questions at the same time. He wasn’t sure why Tony was telling him about the books the Post brothers and the Avis family had brought over from Europe (although he had asked Tony to “start at the beginning.”) Of course he wanted to know about the trail of dead animals, ending with Old-Blue, but now that Tony was talking Peter couldn’t stop asking questions.

“Are you saying… are you saying there were spellbooks that only the men could read, and one only for women? But… but you said Beatrice’s’ father gave her that book…”

Tony gave another drunken chuckle. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about this punch-drunk Tony. He had seen Tony pale before, but never so weak.

“No, Master Peter. The boys were only taught to read in German. They could not read from the Book of the Student Athanásio or the Thesouro de Feiticeiro because they could not read Portuguese. And oh, how their sisters guarded their treasures…”

“But, what was the difference?” Peter asked, but Tony was stroking his chest and nuzzling at his neck again. He let Tony suck the vein there again for a moment before insisting on an answer, all while puzzling it out. He had originally imagined that it was the men of the Post household, but only one at time, reading from some ancient book and using it to command Tony. But now he was picturing the entire sprawling family, each with rival spellbooks, each competing against each other to… what exactly?”

“The seal of Berthwald hurts to cross. It binds me inside. I cannot leave Post land without permission, and even when tasked to do so, it takes some effort. But the seals of Evorá, set all over the hollows and the bottoms and the groves and the glades… and the cattle field… and the lake, oh so many they made for me… they feed me. They feed me strength from the land. So many times Enid and Ada and Ada-Joy dreamed of new places. So many new places to cast the seals…”

“You were making them dream about the seals of Evorá,” Peter scolded gently.

“Of course I was,” Tony murmured against Peter’s throat, and Peter could hear the smile in his voice.

“So let me get this straight,” Peter said, cupping Tony’s head and bringing his mouth back the vein. Even though Tony had been feeding all night, Tony’s hand tightened on Peter’s shoulder and he drank with a small moan.

“So the German books bind you to the land, so you can’t escape. But the Portuguese books turn the land into food, so you don’t want to leave. One is a punishment, one is a bribe. I get it. Wait… is that because the German books called you a demon,? Are the Portuguese books the ones that called you a muse?

The Thesouro de Feiticeiro calls me an ‘angel.’”

“Okay that’s… that’s important. You can tell me more later. Tony…” Gently but firmly he forced Tony’s mouth away from his neck. He was beginning to wonder if Tony kept feeding to avoid answering the question. (Still, it was almost impossible to resist – especially when Tony kept clinging to him, whimpering when pulled away.)

“You still haven’t explained to me why you killed my dog,” he whispered, stroking Tony’s face.

Tony’s eyes closed again, but he obeyed.

“You told me the DeSlaughter lad lived within the Post landholding. But forgive me master,” Tony whimpered, reaching out and stroking Peter’s face with pleading fingers. “You were mistaken. That household stands on the other side of the border. That land belonged to the Beekmans, and then the Bergens. I had to cross the border…”

“But… no… the Post family… they sent you outside the property all the time. When they tasked you to take messages… you went all the way to New York City. Evan Post sent you out to kill the pigs…”

“But never without feeding me first. A fat cow, or two swine. The seals of Berthwald require it. But Jedediah never cast the seals of Berthwald at the border, and Evan did not know how. The seals at the border have faded with time. On the southern border it has faded to nothing. But to cross the eastern border, it did take great effort.

“And I was foolish, prideful, I beg you to pardon me. You had never given me a task before… and it was St. Cyprian’s Night! I was unwise. I trusted the seals of Evorá to give me strength enough to return. The Post Daughters had always cast their seals, even unto the very day that they departed! I thought, certainly, I could feed as soon as I returned to the land. Then I would have strength enough to return to your bed.”

“Oh, I get it, the seal of Berthwald was stronger than you thought. So took more effort than you thought to get across. But you did get across, you made those dreams.”

“Oh, such dreams I made Master Peter…”

“But I didn’t know making dreams took so much out of you. You were so weak the first time we spoke in a dream. You had hardly fed at all.”

“To enter a dream existing, it is a little matter. I stepped into your delightful dream of the dark castle. You welcomed me there, you looked for me there. To make a new dream? That takes great effort, so much effort. But oh, see how I faired, Master Peter! See how I faired! See the tapestry I wove for you. I am a very skilled weaver. The Post daughters made me very skilled. So many sweet dreams I wove for them, all their neighbors loved the Post Daughters. Doted upon them. Make me your beloved, Master Peter, for I served you so well. The DeSlaughter lad will never speak ill of your house again…”

On some matters Tony was clearly reluctant to speak… but he described his dreamweaving with pride. He reminded Peter of the kids in his old school in New York City describing their science fair projects in ridiculous detail. When you created it, and it worked, you had a reason to be proud.

Tony was proud.

As Peter listened he marveled at Tony’s skill. How the demon appealed to both hopes and fears. To the best instincts of the person he was manipulating. To not just search for their fear, and utilize it, but to also search for their self-image. Peter had read a lot about a person’s self-image, how every person secretly thought they were the Hero of the story. Tony knew how to twist the story until the Hero had to be nice to Peter Parker. And all because generations of Post girls enjoyed using Tony to stop their neighbors from gossiping about their strange practices. Especially on St. Cyprian’s night.

As Tony described the dream he had used to convince Mike and Matthew DeSlaughter, a dream about a classroom (where they had unfortunately arrived without their clothes.) He described Mrs. DeSlaughter’s encounter with an orphanage from a musical, and Mr. DeSlaughter’s decent into a pit of snakes all seeking revenge, only to be rescued by Mike and Peter, his star students, who saved him utilizing all his revered teachings. As he spoke it became clear to Peter why Tony had been so foolish, had spent so much energy at the DeSlaughter house and leaving himself no strength to get home. How many times had Peter stayed up until 2 in the morning reading, or designing an invention in his notebooks, only to pay for it miserably in school the next day? Tony and he had more in common than he had ever realized. He wasn’t sure, yet, what to do with that information.

“But when it came to the little one, I was too weak. I could create no dream for her, so I entered her dream…”

“Let me guess. She dreamed that Superbarbie had to rescue me.”

“Yes, she dreams of superheroes, just as you do Master Peter. But her heroes are very different. They are all under curses. They must stand on their tiptoes at all times and can never wear clothes…”

He placed his fingers in Tony’s mouth again. Tony fed with a moan. Peter looked away, thinking.

Something was happening in his head, something he was desperately trying to ignore, even while it was happening.

He couldn’t deny that it had been an incredible day. Aunt May had been as happy as he had ever seen her, feeding three boys at her kitchen table as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He thought about how Uncle Ben and Mr. DeSlaughter were still talking to each other long after the boys were ready to go home. How he had heard Uncle Ben laughing all the way from inside the house – something he also hadn’t heard since New York City.

And then there was Peter. Being the center of attention at the DeSlaughter house. Being the tour guide at his own house. It was exhausting, of course, he wasn’t used to more than one person talking to him all at the same time, but he could make adjustments. Tony could make adjustments. Tony could arrange things just the way he wanted them.

It wasn’t like the Twilight Zone, Peter realized as he pressed a kiss on Tony’s forehead. Tony wouldn’t grant his wishes in ways that were secretly horrible, because Tony was actually on his side.

But Tony could make mistakes, and that was sobering. Whatever else Tony was, he wasn’t all-knowing. Peter had to remember not to forget that.

Tony had finally stopped feeding. He pulled Peter’s fingers from his mouth and kissed the back of his hand. He reached out and stroked Peter’s face with hesitant fingers.

“A great feast, many day’s worth, was the St. Cyprian feast,” Tony whispered. “All night there was feasting and dancing. Then at midnight the girls would gather in a circle and summon me and tell me all their secrets. The boys they wanted to come court them. The boys they wanted to stop courting them. They told me all they wished their parents would allow them, but I could not enter their parents’ dreams without announcing myself…”

“…because their parents already knew your tricks. Because they had done the same thing when they were younger.

“Alright, Tony. I think I get it. I said I wanted Mike to stop talking about me behind my back, and that was a normal Post-thing to ask for at this time of year. But you still haven’t told me why you killed my dog. I explained the difference between pets and not-pets. If it has a name, then it is a pet. We talked about this.”

Tony’s eyes closed wearily and he turned his head a little. He was clearly ashamed. Peter caressed the side of his face, running a thumb across the pale lips.

“I’ll let you rest, I promise. I’ll turn around and you can hold me in your arms and feed all night if you want. But first I need to understand, Tony. Last night I dreamed about you and you sounded panicked. Help me understand what happened.”

“I failed you, Master Peter,” Tony whispered, turning and kissing his hand. “I tarried too long. My dreamweaving was most excellent, but I tarried until almost dawn. Back to the land I went, but the seals of Evorá there could not feed me. The eastern seals were each dry cisterns. I fed as much as I could. I was determined to return to your bed…”

“But you killed all those animals, and you didn’t even stay and consume the bodies…”

“No time! To consume them all takes time. The sunrise would catch me, I am not strong enough to hide in morning shadows. I took what I could. I rushed home to you, Master Peter. I longed for you, I rushed home to you…”

He fell quiet, but Peter did not speak. He stroked Tony’s face, waiting.

“I came to the house. The sun was shining. I was blind. I was desperate. I did not know what I had done until I felt the pain…”

He put a weak hand on his chest, his fingers slipping into the opening of his shirt. When Peter saw what he was pointing at, his eyes went wide.

Tony was wearing the same white, old-fashioned shirt he always wore, with blousy sleeves, a large neck and slit down the front. Tonight Tony’s body was pale and thin, and when Peter pushed the shirt open it revealed a great deal of his neck and chest, including a deep, circular scar in the center that Peter had never seen before.

“Tony… how… what?!” Peter gasped, pushing the shirt aside in an attempt to see all of it. The scar looked old but angry, forming a white puckered circle in the center of Tony’s hollow chest with jagged lines emanating from it in all directions. He allowed Peter to examine it without comment, looking into his face with tired eyes.

“How did this happen?” Peter asked finally, his head swimming, covering the scar with one hand, as if, by hiding it from view he could make it go away.

“If it has a name, it is a pet,” Tony whispered, touching Peter’s hand apologetically. “I was blind. I did not know what I had fed upon until the pain pierced me to the core. I had disobeyed my master. But still I returned to you, I will serve you well, you will give me pardon sweet Peter…”

Peter moaned and buried his face in Tony’s chest while he spoke. Tears formed behind his eyes as Tony argued why he should be forgiven. Tony had described the pain that the Post Patriarch had subjected him too if he disobeyed commands, even if the commands contradicted each other. Peter had been disgusted by the idea. His stomach knotted as he understood – Tony wasn’t weak because he had over-exerted himself, he was weak because he was injured.

Peter kissed the scar, covered it with his hand again and looked up.

“Tony I never… I never would have done this to you… I’d never hurt you. I don’t understand. I’m not your master…

“I didn’t mean it like that, no…” he said quickly as Tony’s face crumpled. Seized with a sudden understanding Peter pulled the frail body close and held the man tightly to his chest as Tony begged and pleaded, sometimes in English, sometimes in German. With one solid arm across the man’s back Peter held their bodies together, with his other hand he rubbed circles in between the pronounced shoulder blades, sometimes pausing to comb his fingers through the salt-and-peppered hair, shushing him.

“That’s not what I meant, stop. Shhhh….”

Peter rocked the shivering man for some time, trying to get his thoughts into order. Finally he loosened his grip, smoothed Tony’s hair away from his face and spoke.

“Tony, when I came here I was 13 and I was a basket case. I cried all the time. I cried, like, every week. I cried when I found out that the neighbors were raising rabbits, not for pets but to eat. I cried when May and Ben decided not to raise chickens because I would get too attached to the chickens and cry when we ate them. And then I cried because I knew they were right. I cried almost once a week. And that was before I had to attend Robert E Lee K-12.

“I was reading books out loud in my room because I had to do something other than cry all the time. But then I’d read about the endangered animals and that just made it start all over again. So I read Mad Magazine and Erma Bombeck just so I could feel something other than despair and pain. And then you started talking to me and I started talking back because I needed you, Tony. I needed someone to talk to, and you were there.

“You’re my best friend, Tony. That’s what I mean when I say… I can’t understand how I’m your… I’m not a magician. I don’t have any… I never read any of those books that Evan Post burned and put in the lake. I’m confused. I thought you called me “Master Peter” because…”

He closed his mouth hard. He had let Tony call him “Master Peter” for the same reason Batman let Alfred call him “Master Wayne.”

Besides, he kind of liked it. But it had never occurred to him that…

“You fed me. You called to me,” Tony was saying gently, stroking Peter’s face with long, slender fingers. “You conjured me from under the bed. You named me. I am yours, now.”

“But I’m not even a Post.”

“But still, I am yours.”

“But I would never do this to you,” Peter said, forcing himself to look at the white scar beneath his hand.

“It is the nature of the spell that called me to this plain,” Tony whispered, nuzzling the top of Peter’s head. Peter felt, strangely, as if Tony were comforting him now. He leaned down to kiss the raised white lines against the pale skin. He realized that meant he was kissing the man’s bare chest, but that didn’t feel strange to him. That didn’t feel strange at all.

“Alright,” he said finally, laying his face gently upon the center of Tony’s chest. “Tell me how to heal you.”

“Let me sleep. Do not call upon me on the morrow, or the next. Feed me as you did at Mabon. Let me rest, Master Peter. Call me only in dreams. But let me rest and then I will serve you well.”

“Okay,” Peter said, kissing Tony on the top of the head, pulling him back into his arms and rocking him slightly. “You can rest. You can rest as much as you want. And I’m not going to “call on” you, but I am going to give you something to think about. (He winced when he realized he was quoting Aunt May word for word, but he plowed ahead anyway.)

“When you are better you are going to explain to me how this works. How all of it works. In detail. And you are never to cross any seals unless you check with me to see if it’s necessary, and to tell me how much feeding it’s going to take for you to be strong enough to do it.

“And you are not going to do ANYTHING I ask you to unless I say the words: “Tony, I need you to do this for me. I really, really, seriously, Just Say No-joke, really really mean it.”

———————————

The Master (Post)

Please direct all questions/comments/constructive crit to @witchwayisright

#OMG LOOK at my moodboard!!!#Von's Moodboards #The Thing That Lives Under The Bed #Demon!Tony #TheWitchway writes stuff #Starker

16 notes · View notes

thestarsaroundyourscars · 6 years

Text

I met you in the dark, you lit me up, ch 3

Chapter 3: The days before their first date

Summary: In which Richie is struggling with the planning of his date, Beverly comes to his aid and him and Eddie are the cutest boys ever, all excited about seeing each other again.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Words: 3,128

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc♥ And @thetheatregal because you told me you like being tagged in stuff, babe :)

Since the day of their first call, Richie and Eddie had talked to each other constantly, whether through texts or through phone calls. That very same day, Richie texted him right after hanging up and they talked till later that night when Richie fell asleep immediately after getting home from his shift at the radio station. When he woke up the next day, he texted Eddie, apologizing for falling asleep on him and they resumed their conversation from the night before.

Even though part of the reason why Eddie told Richie to text him after talking on the phone was to discuss the details of their upcoming date, they talked about everything except that.

When Eddie tried approaching the subject, Richie just said that he was going to take care of everything and that all Eddie had to worry about was getting his cute little butt ready on time for Richie to pick him up on Saturday. Eddie was reluctant at first, he didn’t like surprises and he didn’t want to end up going somewhere he wouldn’t enjoy and ruining the date because it got him in a bad mood, but Richie was being awfully stubborn about it, saying he was the one who asked Eddie out and therefore should be the one to plan the whole thing, so he agreed in the end.

Now Richie was regretting his decision. Not asking Eddie out on a date, that is probably the best thing he has done in his life so far, but saying he would be responsible for planning it? That, he most definitely regret.

He had no idea what to do. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he had a lot of ideas but none of them seemed good enough and if there was one thing he was sure of was that he wanted everything to be perfect.

Right now he was in his bedroom, with an open notebook over his crossed legs. On its pages Richie would scribble down whatever idea for a first day that came to his head, only to cross it out after not liking it enough.

Drinks at a bar? Been there, done that. Dinner at a fancy restaurant? Too cliché, not to mention they were both college students, and even if both of them had jobs they didn’t have enough money to be expending it on teeny tiny sized portions of food. Bowling? Roller skating? He wasn’t really trying to embarrass himself in front of Eddie or end up at the ER for falling down on his face and breaking his nose or dropping a bowling ball on his foot and breaking his toe, both of which had happened to him before. Games at the arcade? Lame as fuck for a first date. Stroll down the park? There is only so much walking they can do and they’d be back at their respective homes after only an hour or so. Movie Theater? Not much chance for talking. A picnic? Carnival? Coffee date?

Richie groaned irritated, he threw the notebook against the wall and let himself fall backwards on his bed.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” he muttered, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

He heard the door open but he didn’t open his eyes nor did he sit back down.

“Homework giving you a hard time?” Beverly asked. Richie felt her sit down on the edge of his bed and place a hand on his ankle.

“This is actually worse than homework” he replied, supporting himself on his elbows to look at her, but without his glasses on, all he was able to see was a blurry mess of colors where Beverly should have been, “I have absolutely no idea where to take Eddie on our first date.”

He didn’t need to be able to see Bev’s face clearly to know she was eyeing him skeptically. He saw her stand up and grab what Richie guessed was the notebook he had thrown away in frustration. She sat down again, this time on Richie’s desk chair.

“These aren’t bad ideas, Rich” she said, Richie grabbed his glasses and put them on. He saw her frown, “not all of them at least. Shopping mall, Richie? Really?”

“Trust me, I fucking know. But I’ve been at this for hours and every idea I manage to come up with is as bad as the last one. I’m kind of desperate at this point, Marsh” he said with a frown of his own, falling back on the bed again.

“You need to relax. It’s just a first date, honey, it’s not like you’re planning to propose” she said, shaking her head.

He sat up and with all seriousness he said, “No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be perfect. He deserves an amazing first date, Bev, and I want to give it to him.”

Beverly was looking at him with a soft smile on her face, making Richie fidget under her stare.

“What?” He asked her.

“Nothing, I just… I’ve never seen you like this, Rich, not with anyone.”

“Yeah well, I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.” She was still looking at him in that way, so he added, “Stop looking at me like that!”

She laughed, “I just think it’s cute” Richie rolled his eyes and before he got the chance to reply she continued, “Fine, I’ll stop. I still think you are giving this way too much thought” she said.

Richie groaned. “What do you think I should do then?”

“You need to think about what Eddie likes, you two have been talking nonstop these past few days, you must know some of those things by now”.

“Well, yeah but I don’t… wait, how do you know we’ve been talking?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Oh please” she says, rolling her eyes, “You get all excited whenever you get a text and then there’s that stupid smile you get when you are texting back. Not to mention, last night you locked yourself up in here for like an hour and I could hear you talking and laughing through the door.”

“You’re listening to me through the door, Marsh? What if I was doing something more R-rated than talking on the phone?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“As gross as that would be, it wouldn’t be the first time that has happened to me” she said with a grimace, “Anyways, there’s also the fact that yesterday you made us walk back from the subway station to the apartment, even though we were already late for our classes, once you found out you had forgotten your phone because ’Jesus fuck, Beverly, what if someone texts me? What will they think if I don’t answer’?” she said, mocking Richie. He rolled his eyes at her but he could feel himself starting to blush. Holy shit, she’s right. I’ve been acting like a 13 year-old with a crush, he thinks.

“Fuck off, like you are any better when it comes to Ben” he replies and the reaction is instantaneous, Beverly’s eyes widen and she blushes furiously like she always does whenever he, Stan or Mike bring Ben up.

They both stay silent, embarrassed and looking everywhere except at each other. Eventually, Richie clears his throat and talks.

“He likes animals.”

Beverly must have spaced out, because she looks confused when she asks, “What?”

“Eds. Eddie. He likes animals. His mother didn’t let him have pets when he was a kid because he had a bunch of allergies, so he would spend a lot of his time learning about them, he read books and watched Animal Planet every night before bed. He told me there was this one time when they took his class to an aquarium. It took a lot to convince his mom to let him go, she’s kind of overbearing and was worried he would get sick or something. He told me that in the end she only let him go, because Bill’s mom, Bill is one of his best friends, volunteered to go and promised Eddie’s mom she would look after him. He says that trip is still one of his favorite memories” he doesn’t look at Beverly while saying this, he’s playing with a loose thread on his bed and smiling at the memory of Eddie telling him that story over the phone.

“There was one thing that prevented the day from being perfect though. Parents had to sign an extra permit if they wanted to allow their kids to feed the otters but Eddie’s mom didn’t sign it, so he had to stay back while his classmates fed and played with them. He was devastated, they’re his favorite animals, the otters, he told me that”, he recounts.

“That’s so fucking cute” Beverly said with a smile.

“Yeah, I know, I told him that too.”

They fall silent again and Richie is startled when Beverly straightens in the chair, grabs Richie’s laptop and starts typing.

“The hell are you doing, Bev?” Richie asks but she only gestures at him to keep quiet and keeps typing.

He’s about to ask her again what has gotten into her when she stands up, computer in hand and turns to look at him. She has a crazy look on her face and Richie eyes her warily, usually he is the one giving Beverly that look right before dragging her alone to do something brilliant or stupid, most of the times is the latter. He’s not used to being on the other end of that look, it’s somewhat terrifying.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out Bev. What’s going on?”

“Oh nothing, I just had the perfect idea for your date with Eddie.”

Richie raises an eyebrow expectantly but she just stays where she is and says nothing. Richie sighs, “Well? Are you going to tell me or just stare at me like some crazy woman?”

Instead of answering, she puts the computer on his lap and points at the screen where the results for what she typed are showing.

Richie’s eyes scan the computer and he takes a moment to feel stupid for not thinking about this himself. Then he looks at Beverly and her grin is just as big as his.

“Beverly Marsh, you are a fucking genius” he says.

“What can I say? I try” She says with a shrug, then while pointing at the computer screen she adds, “Click there for more information.”

Richie looks back at the computer and clicks on the link like Bev said. And as he does, all he can think is, Eddie Spaghetti, get ready for the best first date of your life.

-♥-

“You’re still not going to tell me?” Richie hears Eddie ask through the phone.

“Nope” he answers. He is currently in the kitchen, making dinner. He’s making spaghetti and meatballs, and Eddie already threatened to hang up on him if he made one more joke about it.

Richie always loved to cook, and to everyone’s surprise, he was actually really good at it, so good that he used to be the designated cook in his circle of friends, meaning him, Bev and Stan before they met Mike.

After the first time they tried Mike’s food, they all agreed he was a better cook than Richie. That didn’t mean he stopped cooking for them, he liked doing it and they encouraged it. Last Christmas, they had gotten Richie an apron with the words “Kiss the cook” written on the front, only before giving it to him, they had crossed out the word kiss and wrote ’Fuck’ instead, Bev’s idea. Richie had laughed like crazy after seeing it and had put it on immediately. He was actually wearing that apron right now.

“I already told you, I hate surprises.”

“Well my dear Eddie Spaghetti, you are going to have to suck it up” he said “I am not telling you anything other than ’Be ready at 11:00 on Saturday and make sure you wear those shorts you wore on the day we met’.”

Eddie sighed, “Fine, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, babe, don’t lie” he said.

Even though he had the phone on speaker he could hear Eddie let out a little squeak, caught off guard by the pet name, even though Richie had been using it more and more when they talked. He couldn’t wait to call him that to his face and see his reaction in person.

“Richie?” he heard him ask in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“I just… I’m really looking forward to our date, that’s all” he said shyly, “even if you won’t tell me what we are doing.”

The confession caught Richie off guard, so much that he spilled more oil in the pan than he meant to, which made some of it splash his arm, burning him.

“Fuck! Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screamed in pain, while running towards the sink and putting his arm under the running water.

“Richie? Oh my God, are you okay?” he heard Richie asked, alarmed.

“I’m fine, Eds. It’s nothing.”

“That was a lot of yelling for nothing.”

“I might have… burned my arm a little? Some of the hot oil splashed me. But it’s okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it” he said, turning off the water, it still hurt a bit but it was bearable.

“Okay… I don’t understand why your friends let you anywhere near the kitchen with no supervision though” chuckled Eddie.

“Hey, I have everything under control here.”

“Uh huh, forgive me if I don’t believe you after what just happened, Rich.”

“That wasn’t my fault! You distracted me with your… your flirting!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Eddie yelled, “I was just… uh… you’re the one who is always flirting!”

“You say that like I’m trying to be subtle about it” Richie answered and the smirk was evident on his voice.

He could practically hear Eddie trying to think of something to say that would take this conversation in a different direction, but he didn’t seemed to be able to come up with anything.

Luckily for Eddie, Stan, Mike and Bev chose that exact moment to barge into the apartment.

“Damn, it smells amazing in here!” he heard Mike say.

“Richie?” That was Bev.

“No, Beverly, I’m pretty sure that’s just some murderer who decided to have some dinner while he waited for someone to kill” And that was definitely Stan. He heard Mike laughed and what sounded like Beverly punching Stan in the arm.

“Stan the man gets off a good one!” Richie yelled while grabbing his phone and taking it off speaker, “Hey, Eds, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m guessing you have to go now.”

“I can stay on the line some more.”

“No, no, your friends are there, you should go talk to them.”

“But I want to talk to you too.”

“Rich, we’ve been talking for” he paused and Richie guessed he was looking at his phone screen, “48 minutes.” Wow, I didn’t even notice it had been that long, he thinks, Eddie continues, “Aren’t you getting tired of listening to my voice?”

“Never” he answers. He doesn’t want to hang up, but Eddie is right, his friends are there and soon enough they will invade the kitchen looking for food and it’s going to be impossible to hold a conversation with them if he’s still on the phone, “But you’re right, I should go. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Rich, I should try and get some homework done anyways.”

“Hey Eds?” Eddie hums so Richie knows that he is listening, “You’re not the only one who is looking forward to our date, you know? I really can’t fucking wait to see that cute face of yours again.”

He hears Eddie groan and he panics when he thinks he might have gone too far, especially when he says, “You know what I am not looking forward to?” Fortunately, before Richie can freak out, Eddie answers his own question, “You being able to see how much I fucking blush whenever you say things like that.”

Richie laughs out loud and Eddie joins him. “Oh but Eddie, that is my favorite fucking thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodbye Trashmouth.”

I knew telling Eds about that particular nickname was going to come back to bite me in the ass, he thinks. “Bye, Eddie Spaghetti” he says and Eddie ends the call after a half-hearted “Don’t call me that.”

He puts the phone down and turns around, there standing in front of him on the doorway are Beverly, Mike and Stan staring at him.

“How long have you three nosy losers been standing there?” he asks.

“Long enough to witness what is probably the gayest phone call of all times” Stan answers and the three of them start laughing and imitating Richie horribly.

“Oh Eddie Spaghetti I love you.”

“I don’t ever want to stop talking to you.”

“I’m counting down the days to see your angelic face again.”

Richie glares at them but he can feel his face burn in embarrassment.

“You fuckers are just jealous” He grumbles while flipping them off. For some reason that only makes his friends laugh even more. He leaves the kitchen to go and hide in the bathroom until his face recovers its natural pale color but their laughter follows him.

He feels his phone vibrate in his hand from a new text, he sees its Eddie’s and rushes to unlock the phone so he can read it. He is glad he is no longer in the kitchen because the way he is smiling just because of the fact that Eds texted him would have earned him even more teasing.

Turns out the message is actually a picture, on it Richie sees Eddie’s desk, there are books, sheets of paper and a bunch of pens, in one corner there is a package of Oreo cookies and a glass of milk. The caption for the picture says:

Compared to your dinner, mine is pretty lame.

I’m happy we talked. Goodnight, Rich.

-Your very own Spaghetti :)

PS: Only I get to make those jokes. If you try, you die.

Richie practically whines at the adorableness that is Eddie Kaspbrak. He guesses some teasing from his friends is a small price to pay for talking to, and hopefully in a near future dating, a guy like him.

He takes a quick selfie and sends it to him, with the caption “Goodnight, you cutie” and almost immediately he gets another picture, this time of Eddie smiling at him through the camera. Yeah, he thinks, that face is most definitely worth all the teasing in the world.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #it stephen king #the losers club #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #stan uris #richie tozie #eddie kaspbrak #my work #my writing #i met you in the dark you lit me up #chapter 3

125 notes · View notes

xtruss · 3 years

Text

Why Are So Many Health-Care Workers Resisting the COVID Vaccine?

— By Dhruv Khullar | February 2, 2021 | The New Yorker

C.N.A.s have questions about the speed of vaccine development, the immunity it confers, long-term side effects, and what could happen if the virus mutates further.Photograph by Yuki Iwamura / Reuters

Tiffany Chance has worked as a certified nursing assistant since 2005. As an African-American woman in her mid-thirties, Chance typifies the demographics of her profession: most C.N.A.s are young, over a third are Black, ninety per cent are women. She was born and raised in Ohio, and for years worked at a single nursing facility. When the pandemic started and nursing homes faced dire personnel shortages, as many employees contracted the virus or quit in fear of it, Chance started picking up scattered shifts through IntelyCare, a staffing agency that allows health-care workers to choose jobs the way that Uber drivers accept riders. She often works six shifts a week, eight or twelve hours each, across several nursing homes.

When considering a shift, Chance, who has asthma, tries to choose nursing homes without active coronavirus spread. This information, however, is self-reported, and there’s often a delay. “I’d pick a place that said they don’t have the virus, then I’d show up and they’d say, ‘Actually, some of these people have covid,’ ” Chance told me. In early October, she scheduled a shift at a new facility, which, she was told, had no coronavirus-positive residents; she was given a surgical mask, not an N95 respirator. A week later, as she started to develop a runny nose, she received a call: a resident had tested positive. Soon, her breathing worsened. “God, it was terrible,” she said. “It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t walk an inch without getting out of breath.” Chance couldn’t work for weeks; during that time, she received no sick pay. She tried to sign up for food stamps and unemployment benefits, but “I had to jump through so many hoops. They wanted my medical records, my test result, my pay stub, my last employer. I’m thinking, What does my last employer have to do with this? I need help right now!” She tried to e-mail the paperwork, but was told it would take longer to process than if she dropped it off. “I’m, like, I can’t drop it off, I have covid.” As the weeks wore on, she turned to family for help with food and money for rent. “I kept thinking, You work this hard, you care for so many people. And when you get sick, this is how you’re treated.”

While navigating these bureaucratic hurdles, Chance’s symptoms worsened; during one especially rough night, she considered going to the hospital. But the following morning her breathing eased, and slowly it returned to normal. Chance is convinced that her illness didn’t get worse only because, a few years ago, she’d received the pneumonia vaccine. “I really think it helped,” she said. “That vaccine saved me.”

Chance doesn’t want a coronavirus vaccine. (Because it’s not known how long naturally acquired immunity lasts, the C.D.C. recommends that people who have already had the virus still get vaccinated.) I asked her how she has come to believe that one vaccine saved her life but another threatens her health. The vaccine “came out too fast,” she said. “I think they removed a lot of barriers to get it done faster.” She continued, “It’s not that I don’t believe they’re trying to do a good job. I think they have awesome scientists working really hard. I applaud them for doing what they’re doing. I just don’t believe there’s been enough research yet. There’s no way they’ve been studying it for long enough.” Beyond the speed of development, Chance has questions—about how long vaccine-generated immunity lasts, about how serious the long-term side effects might be, and about what could happen if the virus mutates further. Until these questions are answered to her satisfaction, she has no plans to get immunized. “I’m not saying never,” Chance told me. “I’m just saying not now.”

Like Chance, Kia Cooper has been a certified nursing assistant for nearly two decades. She works in and around Philadelphia; early in the pandemic, she would split her time between traditional nursing homes and assisted-living facilities. She prefers the latter. “Nursing homes give you too many patients, and they are much more dependent on you for everything—dressing, bathing, feeding, transport,” she said. “It’s backbreaking work.” In Cooper’s experience, it’s not unusual for a single C.N.A. to care for twenty nursing-home residents at a time. One evening in the spring, she arrived for an overnight shift to find that the other C.N.A.s scheduled to work hadn’t shown up. “It was me and two nurses for fifty residents,” she said. “The charge nurse kept calling people to try to get them to come in but no one responded.”

Cooper now prefers to work in home care and assisted-living facilities, where the residents require less support; she’s found four assisted-living facilities on the outskirts of Philadelphia that she likes. Recently, a previous employer offered her a chance to get vaccinated. She passed. “I’m not totally against it,” she said. “But it was so rushed. I want to wait and see how others do.” Her experience with a health-care industry that seems to put profits over the interests of patients and staff—that denies hazard pay, that fails to provide adequate protective equipment—also contributes to her hesitancy. “I do wonder if it’s a money thing,” she told me. “These are big companies trying to force these products on everyone. You have to wonder, Are they doing it for us or are they just trying to make money?”

Destiny Hankins, a licensed practical nurse from Tennessee, currently working in Ohio, shares these concerns. “Sometimes, it feels like no one cares about us,” she said. “I’ve worked in places where pretty much the whole staff walked out because the facility lied to us. They said there was no covid when there was. They didn’t give us P.P.E. They didn’t have the decency to be straight with us.” During the pandemic, Hankins has been sleeping in her garage to avoid infecting her twelve-year-old daughter, who has epilepsy, and her fiancé, who has an autoimmune condition. She told me that she’s managed to stay safe by adhering to a mantra she’s dubbed the “three ‘P’s”: prayer, precautions, and P.P.E. When the vaccines first became available, she decided that she didn’t want to get immunized. She thought that the vaccines might contain live virus, which would pose a threat to her family; she saw a video of a woman who, after receiving the vaccine, claimed that she was unable to move properly. She heard from some colleagues and acquaintances that the vaccine contained microchips. Eventually, she learned more, and decided that she wanted the shot. But because she works part time at several facilities, and full time at none, she hasn’t been able to get one.

Despite confronting the damage of covid-19 firsthand—and doing work that puts them and their families at high risk—health-care workers express similar levels of vaccine hesitancy as people in the general population. Recent surveys suggest that, over all, around a third of health-care workers are reluctant to get vaccinated against covid-19. (Around one in five Americans say they probably or definitely won’t get vaccinated; nationwide, hesitancy is more common among Republicans, rural residents, and people of color.) The rates are higher in certain regions, professions, and racial groups. Black health-care workers, for instance, are more likely to have tested positive for the virus, but less likely to want a vaccine. (Thirty-five per cent turned down a first dose.) Compared with doctors and nurses, other health professionals—E.M.T.s, home health aides, therapists—are generally less likely to say that they’ll get immunized, and a recent survey of C.N.A.s found that nearly three-quarters were hesitant to get the vaccine.

At Yale-New Haven hospital, ninety per cent of medical residents chose to get the vaccine immediately, but only forty-two per cent of workers in environmental services and thirty-three per cent of food-service workers did. The problem may be most pressing in nursing homes. In December, the governor of Ohio, Mike DeWine, said that sixty per cent of the state’s nursing-home staff had declined the vaccine; in North Carolina, the number is estimated to be more than fifty per cent. According to the C.E.O. of PruittHealth—an organization that runs about a hundred long-term-care facilities across the South—seventy per cent of employees in those facilities declined the first dose.

This hesitancy is less outright rejection than cautious skepticism. It’s driven by suspicions about the evidence supporting the new vaccines and about the motives of those endorsing them. The astonishing speed of vaccine development has made science a victim of its own success: after being told that it takes years, if not decades, to develop vaccines, many health-care workers are reluctant to accept one that sprinted from conception to injection in less than eleven months. They simply want to wait—to see longer-term safety data, or at least to find out how their colleagues fare after inoculation.

Another major hurdle is mistrust of both the political and the health-care systems. The problem is most acute in historically marginalized communities, which already live with racial disparities in life expectancy, maternal mortality, access to medical care, representation in clinical trials, informed consent, the physician workforce, and covid-19 outcomes. And it’s exacerbated among health-care workers who are underappreciated and poorly paid. “In many cases, vaccine hesitancy is not a lack-of-information problem, it’s a lack-of-trust problem,” David Grabowski, a professor of health-care policy at Harvard, told me. “Staff doesn’t trust leadership. They have a real skepticism of government. They haven’t gotten hazard pay. They haven’t gotten P.P.E. They haven’t gotten respect. Should we be surprised that they’re skeptical of something that feels like it’s being forced on them?”

Health-care leaders have resorted to various carrots and sticks to get their employees vaccinated. Given the newness of the vaccines and the lack of long-term safety data, most employers have opted to encourage—not mandate—vaccination; some have offered cash bonuses, days off, even Waffle House gift certificates. (“If that doesn’t get you in line, I don’t know what will,” the governor of Georgia, Brian Kemp, said.) But officials at some organizations have started mandating vaccination. (The law generally allows companies to pursue compulsory vaccination, and recently the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission signalled that employers might begin requiring it for the coronavirus.) “I have very mixed feelings about mandates,” Grabowski said. “I see this a lot on Twitter: just mandate the vaccine and good riddance. Putting the ethical issues aside, the people who say that have no understanding of the labor market here. It’s a very fluid workforce. A number of employees would just say, ‘No thanks,’ and nursing homes would be even more understaffed than they already are. That’s a very dangerous place to be.”

Relative to the staff, nursing-home residents have very high levels of vaccine acceptance—above ninety per cent in many places. This is good news, considering the devastation that covid-19 has visited upon these facilities. So far, nursing homes and long-term-care facilities have accounted for some hundred and forty thousand covid-19 deaths—forty per cent of the total U.S. death toll, though these facilities represent only five per cent of the country’s cases. But, even in nursing homes, vaccination efforts have not proceeded with the requisite urgency. In the month after the vaccines were released, less than a quarter of the doses made available for nursing-homes were administered; even today, nearly a quarter of residents of long-term-care facilities have not received their first dose of a vaccine, according to the C.D.C.

In most states, CVS and Walgreens, in partnership with the federal government, are responsible for vaccinating people in long-term-care facilities. The federal government sends vaccines to the states, which allocate doses to nursing homes; teams from the pharmacy giants then visit the facilities on pre-specified days. In mid-December, Alex Azar, the head of Health and Human Services in the Trump Administration, suggested that all nursing-home residents could have their first dose by Christmas. But, even before Azar spoke, many states had informed the C.D.C. that their programs responsible for nursing-home vaccinations wouldn’t be active until at least December 28th. Four weeks later, some facilities are still waiting for their first appointment.

“It’s worth saying that this was never going to be easy,” Grabowski told me. “Given the number of facilities and the population you’re dealing with, it was always going to be an operations and logistics nightmare. You can’t just set up a drive-through or bring people to Dodger Stadium en masse. You have to go to every facility, make sure every resident has a chance to get vaccinated—that requires very high levels of management and coördination.” The speed of vaccinations has been further complicated by what some believe is unnecessary paperwork, including, for example, gaining written consent from residents, many of whom have dementia or other cognitive deficits. Large pharmacies also don’t have established relationships with care facilities and cannot use nursing-home staff to help administer the vaccines. “If you talk to them, I think they’d tell you that things are actually proceeding according to schedule,” Grabowski said. “It’s just a slow schedule.”

Some states have opted out of the program. West Virginia has relied on local pharmacies, in addition to the big chains, to administer vaccines; by the end of December, the state had the highest nursing-home-vaccination rate in the country—all two hundred and fourteen facilities had been offered the vaccine, and more than eighty per cent of residents in two hundred homes had received their first dose. Nationwide, each CVS or Walgreens is responsible for vaccinating around twenty-five nursing homes; in West Virginia, there are more pharmacies than nursing homes participating in the vaccination program. Many nursing-home residents in West Virginia received their second dose before those in other states got their first.

Kimberly Delbo has been the director of nursing services and innovation at an assisted-living facility in central Pennsylvania for three years. Delbo takes great pride in the culture that she’s helped create. “We’re a small, tight-knit family,” Delbo told me. “The most important thing we can do as an organization is make sure people know that we truly care about them.” In an industry where a fifty-per-cent annual staff-turnover rate is not uncommon, Delbo’s facility did not lose a single employee in 2019; last year, it had a ninety-per-cent retention rate. During the pandemic, employees have had access not only to adequate protective gear but also to what she calls the “health-care heroes’ room,” complete with a massage chair, aromatherapy, antioxidant drinks, and fresh fruits and vegetables. “They work hard,” she said. “They deserve a tranquil environment.”

Around Thanksgiving, the facility had a coronavirus outbreak in which nearly one in seven residents and half of the staff were infected. One woman—a C.N.A. for more than forty years—contracted the coronavirus and lost her husband and her father within the same month. “She still came back to work,” Delbo said. “She said, ‘This is what I’m made for.’ When you see that kind of resilience, it’s truly humbling. You think, These are the real heroes.” To manage the staff shortage, Delbo lengthened shifts from eight to twelve hours, and reached out to contacts in the state’s health department to arrange emergency staffing. Her son, also a nurse, took time away from his regular job to help out. “It sounds bad—and it was—but, compared to some other facilities, we were relatively spared,” Delbo said.

In early December, Delbo was told that her facility would be vaccinated by the end of the month. As the New Year approached, however, the projected date was revised to mid-January. She sent some staff members to a local hospital to see if they could get immunized; it wasn’t until January 23rd that the pharmacy team finally delivered the first doses to her facility. “The vaccine-distribution process has been very discouraging,” she told me. “It was presented one way on paper but turned out to be completely different in reality.” The residents at her facility are aged seventy-eight to a hundred and eight. “You would think this is a priority population,” she said. “We were like sitting ducks, just praying we could dodge the bullet of another outbreak. We were watching as the general public started getting vaccines, and we were still waiting.”

Like staff at nursing homes across the country, those at Delbo’s facility are split on whether to get vaccinated. “I have a staff member who’s been with us for twenty years and said, ‘Can I be the first person to get it?’ ” Delbo said. “But others are very unsure about it. They ask me, ‘Kim, what do you think about this vaccine? Is it safe?’ ” Delbo has made educating residents and staff a central priority. “We’ve been very proactive about building confidence in it, about getting them the facts, about debunking conspiracy theories and social-media myths,” she said. “We can engage in this dialogue because they trust us. I think what’s important for people to understand is that you don’t build trust in a day and you don’t build it for a specific purpose. We’ve been investing in trust for years. We were doing this before the pandemic, and we’ll do it after.”

— Dhruv Khullar, a contributing writer at The New Yorker, is a practicing physician and an assistant professor at Weill Cornell Medical College.

0 notes

opedguy · 6 years

Text

Pompeo Works on Denuking Pyongyang

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), July 7, 2018.--Slammed by the U.S. press for not demanding denulearization more quickly, 54-year-old Secretary of State Mike Pompeo met July 5-6 in Pyongyang to discuss post-summit action on disarmament. Called “regrettable” by North Korean authorities, Pompeo came to Pyongyang with a tough message from 72-year-old President Donald Trump to work on denuclearization as promised in the joint communiqué following the June 12 summit. Before Trump held the summit with Kim, no one in the press believed it was even possible for an American president to meet with the ruthless North Korean dictator. After the summit, the press ripped Trump for not getting enough from Kim in concrete steps toward disarming North Korea’s nukes and ballistic missiles. Now the maddening press blames Pompeo for pushing too hard to get results from the North Korean dictatorship..

U.S. press jumped all over North Korea’s remarks that Pompeo’s actions were “regrettable,” meaning that he asked for too much, too soon. But the press, unable to control its anti-Trump bias, must fabricate any story to prove Trump’s incompetence. Calling Pompeo “robber-like” in his demands, the North Korean News Service [KCNA[ engages in typical hyperbole, feeding the anti-Trump media. What the U.S. media wants in nothing short than total failure by White House, hoping to convince voters before November’s Midterm elections to toss out Republicans. Pompeo’s high-level meetings with North Korea were designed to follow up on the June 12 promise to disarm Kim’s nukes and ballistic missiles. Pompeo made clear that the U.S. would provide zero economic support, until North Korea made good on its promise to dismantle their nukes and ballistic missiles.

North Korean officials told the press that Pompeo pushed too hard, too soon to work on the disarmament promised during the summit. “We expected the U.S. side to come up with constructive measure to help build trust in the spirit of reunion. We’re thinking about doing something corresponding to that,” said North Korea’s Foreign Ministry. “The attitude and the position of the U.S. during the talks was regrettable,” showing the discrepancy between the U.S. and North Korean position. But the press used North Korea’s disappointment as proof of White House incompetence, not North Korea’s reluctance to give up their nukes and ballistic missiles. Calling U.S. demands a “unilateral and strong denuclearization request,” North Korean officials complained about the U.S. not working toward the peace treaty first before making demands to disarm Pyongyang’s nukes and ballistic missiles.

Unable to figure out how to respond, the anti-Trump press can’t contain its political bias in an election years. U.S. press can’t have it both ways: Accusing Trump of not getting Kim to disarm, and, at the same time, blaming the White House for making too many demands. If the press reported accurately, they’d say that Washington and Pyongyang have put their best foot forward to work toward peace. Less than a year ago, North Korea was threatening to hit the U.S. homeland with a nuclear missile. Trump was accused by the press of war-mongering when he threatened Kim with “fire-and-fury” nearly a year ago. One year later and Trump’s working on a peace treaty and nuclear disarmament. Pompeo went back-and-forth with North Korea’s spy chief Kim Yong-choi, discussing how both countries can meet each other’s demands in the context of peacemaking.

Despite the U.S. press calling the talks a failure, North Korea liked the talks, despite feeling the heat. “We did have very serious discussions on very important matters yesterday,” Kim said. “So thinking about those discussions you might have not slept well last night,” admitting that substantive talks took place. Trump’s enemies in the press continue to call Pompeo overly aggressive, off-putting for Kim Jong-un’s taste. Yet, despite the bluster in KCNA’s reporting, both sides are actively involved in serious dialogue, busy working on a peace treaty and all the comes with it. “We never though it was going to be easy,” said State Department spokeswoman Heather Nauert,” disputing the press characterization that talks went badly. Unlike former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson, Pompeo’s not over his head, well in his elements negotiating the terms for meeting Trump’s North Korea policy.

U.S. press continues to characterize everything Trump does as bad, whether at home or in foreign policy. Talking peace with North Korea, once considered unthinkable, is now a reality, despite differences that remain. Engaging North Korea at the peace table is preferable to talking how either U.S. or North Korean ICBMs are about to fly across the Pacific Ocean. Talking about a peace treaty is exactly what both countries need to deal with trust-building measures important to North Korea. While there’s no big announcement yet, both sides are working in good faith to forge a peace agreement. If the U.S. seems overly focused on nuclear disarmament, it’s because the press wants Trump to fulfill his promise of ”complete, verifiable and irreversible denuclearization.” No one expected that to happen overnight, only to see good-faith efforts to bring it about.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

0 notes

thestarkerisobvious · 4 years

Text

The Books of St. Berthwald and the Books of St. Cyprian

amazing art work by @starker-sorbet

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbaby

You know who you are.