#Smoking Paper India

[ichorai]

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range. 

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side. 

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief. 

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level. 

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought. 

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment. 

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him. 

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd. 

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple. 

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?” 

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium. 

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you. 

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,” you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles. 

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu. 

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing. 

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica. 

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now. 

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity. 

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time. 

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. 

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana. 

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults. 

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat. 

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering. 

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused. 

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower. 

You didn’t stay to answer his question. 

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips. 

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him. 

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince. 

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively. 

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied. 

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him. 

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him. 

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you. 

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running. 

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it. 

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed. 

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide. 

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun. 

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition. 

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. “It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him. 

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter. 

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity. 

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked. 

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. “I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him. 

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline. 

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people. 

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off. 

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say. 

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it. 

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?” 

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight. 

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes. 

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening. 

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast. 

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile. 

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba. 

So this was goodbye. 

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat. 

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes. 

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing. 

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes. 

Air.

Gasping for breath. 

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates. 

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind. 

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord. 

The man fell limp in your hold. 

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out, 

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip. 

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang. 

A breath of relief. 

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask. 

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away. 

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his. 

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it. 

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them. 

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages. 

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. 

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be. 

But he didn’t. 

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound. 

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth. 

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence. 

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon. 

[blueiscoool]

100 Years Ago They Disappeared on Everest. But Did They Make it to the Summit?

It’s one of climbing’s greatest mysteries: was Everest really conquered for the first time in 1953, or did two mountaineers make it to the summit in 1924, before dying in mysterious circumstances?

British climbers George Mallory and Andrew “Sandy” Irvine were last seen on June 8, 1924, 800 feet below the peak, before disappearing into clouds. They never reemerged.

When Mallory’s body was found in 1999, hopes were high that it might give a clue as to whether the pair reached the summit. But, tantalizingly, the camera he had been carrying – with which he would have documented the highest point they had reached – was not on the body. Irvine’s body has never been found.

But now, as the 100th anniversary of the mens’ disappearance approaches, one researcher believes that he has solved mountaineering’s greatest mystery.

By studying the expedition weather reports, author Graham Hoyland believes that he has worked out what happened to the pair – and whether they made it to the summit before they died.

Hoyland – a distant relative of another member of the expedition group, who has visited on Everest nine times searching for the remains – believes that the key to the mystery is air pressure.

His relative several times removed, Howard Somervell – another mountaineer, who had got within 1,000 feet of the summit on the same expedition before a lack of oxygen meant he had to retreat – was responsible for tracking the weather during the expedition.

The smoking gun?

The 1924 expedition, including Irvine and Mallory (top two left), aimed to be the first documented ascent of the mountain.

His records – which he submitted after the official report on the 1924 expedition was made, having returned to his job as a surgeon in India – show that the barometric pressure dropped between the morning of June 8 and June 9 at base camp, where Somervell was taking the readings.

Somervell recorded the pressure in inches of mercury, dropping from 16.25 to 15.98. Hoyland believes that these figures equate to a 10 millibar drop in pressure. Weather-related deaths on Everest are generally associated with a drop in barometric pressure at the summit.

A decrease of just 4 millibars can trigger hypoxia; a 6 millibar drop was enough to cause the incident in 1996 in which 20 people were trapped on the mountain, eight of whom died. That story is recounted in writer Jon Krakauer’s book “Into Thin Air.” The bad weather angle was also explored in a 2010 paper by experts from the University of Toronto, led by G.W. Kent Moore.

“They were climbing into an absolute s***storm – not only a blizzard but a sort of snow bomb,” Hoyland told CNN. Hoyland has experienced “snow bombs” himself on Everest. “It’s terrifying – the temperature drops hugely, you’re gasping for breath. There are winds of 100 knots. One guy I know was blown off the mountain, and ended up further up the mountain,” he said.

Effectively, the drop in air pressure meant that the mountain suddenly became higher – around 650 feet higher, to be precise. Hoyland calls it “an invisible death trap.”

The pair – who were ascending along the northwest ridge – were already climbing against the odds. Mallory wrote in a letter to his wife that he put his chances of making the summit at 50 to one. Hoyland thinks it was more like 20 to one. But, he thinks, they would have had no idea what was about to hit them.

“Mallory had seen Norton and Somervell get to to within 1000 feet of the top on 4 June using no oxygen equipment; it would have seemed reasonable to assume that it was possible to reach the summit with the apparatus,” he writes in a forthcoming book.

“What he didn’t know was that the rapidly falling air pressure was effectively making the mountain even higher.

What’s more, the storm and blizzard wouldn’t just have made a drop in air pressure. The pair were wearing layers of silk, cotton and wool. Hoyland – who had a similar made-to-measure outfit on an Everest trip – says that the clothes are exceptionally comfortable but wouldn’t have provided the warmth to survive a blizzard or an overnight.

Previously, it has been speculated that the pair had reached the summit before dying on the way down, something that Hoyland calls “wishful thinking.”

“I’d been trying to prove that Mallory had climbed Everest for years and years – I wanted to prove that I was the 16th Briton to climb it, not the 15th. But unfortunately when you read facts and they’re different, you have to change your mind. You can’t carry on being a wishful thinker,” he says.

Until Hoyland, nobody had closely studied at the weather reports, which were held at the Royal Geographical Society in London.

The summit was eventually reached by Edmund Hillary, a New Zealand mountaineer, in 1953 – the first documented ascent of the peak.

A century of speculation:

The mystery of Mallory and Irvine has intrigued adventurers for decades.

In 1933, another mountaineer, Percy Wyn-Harris found an ax near the summit. It was assumed to have belonged to Irvine.

In 1936, another mountaineer, Frank Smythe, believed he had seen two bodies in the distance. Using a telescope, he saw them at around 8,100 meters, or 26,575 feet.

And Chinese mountaineer Wang Hongbao believed he saw a body during his 1975 ascent.

Finally, an expedition in 1999, instigated by Hoyland, found Mallory’s body at 26,700 feet –2,335 below the summit.

Hoyland believes that the pair, tethered to each other, slipped while aborting the climb and returning to base camp. He thinks Mallory survived the initial fall, but took another, fatal plunge while staggering back to base camp. Irvine’s body has never been found.

Everest ‘Makes People Mad’:

While some of Mallory’s possessions were still to be found on his body, including a pair of goggles in his pocket – which suggests he was either in darkness or poor visibility – there was no sign of the photo of his wife which he had brought, planning to leave it on the summit.

For decades, researchers have posited that, in lieu of more precise evidence, the lack of photo suggests the pair might have reached the summit and fallen while returning.

However, having reviewed the new evidence, Hoyland believes this is not the case. Expedition reports noted a blizzard hitting the mountain at 2 p.m., he says – long before they could have reached the summit. The lack of photo, he thinks, means nothing. Mallory often forgot stuff, he notes.

In his last letter to his wife – digitized to mark the centenary of his ascent – on May 27, Mallory wrote of “looking out of a tent door onto a world of snow and vanishing hopes: and described it as “a bad time altogether.” Both he and Irvine were unwell, and he wrote that “I’m quite doubtful if I shall be fit enough.”

For Hoyland, who is taking part in an event at the Royal Geographical Society about the centenary, “Everest makes people mad.”

“Mallory became obsessed with the desire to conquer Everest – it would have made him somebody,” he said.

Mallory was a teacher, but moved on the fringes of the Bloomsbury set, a group of British intellectuals, artists and thinkers centered on London in the early 20th century.

“Everyone he knew was a famous novelist or a Nobel prizewinner, and he got captivated by it [the idea of Everest],” he said.

“There’s a dangerous thing called ‘summit fever’ – you see the summit, and you think, ‘Right, it’s death or glory.’ You don’t care if you die.

“I know that feeling. You get completely possessed by this mountain. Mallory was possessed by Everest and it killed him.”

Hoyland, who has since swapped mountaineering for extreme sailing, says that Everest has become “a non-mountaineer’s mountain.”

“There are rich men climbing it as a trophy. I wish it wasn’t the highest,” he said.

“Quite honestly I think the best thing to happen would be if the top 800 feet fell off.

By Julia Buckley.

[dishigoyal]

From:Uttara

To: Abhimanyu

Rajkumar ji,

It has been two days since you left for the war.

I found this stack of papers in your chamber today.

I promise I was not snooping around, I was just telling the candles there that they need to ready themselves for your sweet welcome, I was asking the breeze through the windows of your state, I was taking in the scent of our love, the times spent together.

I wonder if you miss me too, I wonder if you miss our child.

He has been fidgeting more since you left, the gentle kicks and rolls remind me of you all the time.

Do you remember the first time I cooked for you? You said that kheer and my presence in your dreams taste the same. Dreams, oh Aryaputra! Do you know what mine taste like?

They taste like milk and smoke, sound like yearning and hurt like you.

Yes you have hurt me, you have hurt me by disunion, insulted me by deeming me unfit for the battlegrounds.

I Uttara, the daughter of king Virat, daughter in law of the valorous Arjun and the wife of Prince Abhimanyu I am unfit for the battleground?

The child in my womb, the envisioned mahayoddha cannot be kept away from the greatest Dharmyuddh.

And so, I am coming to Kurukshetra.

Wait for me there, Rajkumar ji, we will meet our child together.

Instagram- @dishigoyal_

Website- dishigoyal.weebly.com

Context- Abhimanyu is a warrior from the ancient Hindu epic Mahabharata. He was the son of Arjuna, the third of the Pandavas and the hero of the epic, and Subhadra, the younger sister of the revered Hindu deity Krishna.

He died in the Mahabharata war, before the birth of his child.

Uttarā is a princess in the Mahabharata, she is described to be the daughter of Queen Sudeshna and King Virata, at whose court the Pandavas spent a year in concealment during their exile.

Rajkumar ji- Prince

Kheer- a sweet dish, a type of wet pudding popular in India

Aryaputra-used by all women in their youth to address their husband

Mahayoddha- a great warrior

Dharmyuddh-war in defence of righteousness

Kurukshetra-setting of the Hindu epic poem the Mahabharata.

[mariacallous]

Out of sight, out of mind. That’s the fate of global shipping, even though all of us depend on it for our daily supplies. Everything from bananas to toilet paper to iPhones travels by sea at some point. But we only pay attention when something goes wrong, whether that happens in the Red Sea, the Suez Canal—or underneath what used to be Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge. This week’s accident, which occurred when the container ship Dali lost power and headed straight into a support pillar, has delivered a reminder of the sheer overlooked scale of the shipping industry—and how unprepared many systems are to handle it.

Part of this is the massive size of today’s container vessels themselves. A few minutes before 1:30 a.m. on March 26, the Singapore-flagged container Dali issued a mayday call, which allowed construction workers on the Key Bridge to get a few cars to turn around. Down below, the Dali appeared to have engine problems; camera footage shows its lights flickering before smoke emerges and it hits the support pillar. Within seconds, the bridge collapses into the water. Some of it collapses onto the Dali, too, and with the bridge, cars plunge into the water. At the time of writing, six people are unaccounted for and presumed dead.

Now lots of ordinary citizens around the world are discovering marine websites such as vesselfinder.com and marinetraffic.com, which track merchant vessels. They will have learned that the Dali has a gross tonnage of 95,128 tons, a summer deadweight of 116,851 tons, and that it’s 300 meters (nearly 1,000 feet) long.

When it struck the Key Bridge, the Dali had 4,679 TEU (20-foot-long shipping containers) onboard and was crewed by 22 Indian seafarers, who had been joined by two pilots from Baltimore. Merchant vessels are predominantly crewed by relatively tiny staffs that are usually made up of people from India, the Philippines, Indonesia, Vietnam, Russia, and Eastern European countries. Indeed, it has been decades since it was common for Western Europeans and Americans to go to sea. Today’s seafarers are skilled, but they do hard and lonely work with long absences from home—and when disaster strikes, shipping can be extremely dangerous. Earlier this month, a Houthi attack in the Red Sea cost the lives of three seafarers—two Filipinos and one Vietnamese.

All this is in service of the goods that make our lives so convenient—and which require a vast and largely invisible ocean network to support.

Just consider the arrivals, off-loading, loading, and departures at the Port of Rotterdam, which is merely the world’s 10-busiest container port. Last year, Rotterdam handled 13.4 million TEU at its 14 terminals. That’s 36,712 TEU every day of the year. In the afternoon on March 26, 149 ocean-going ships were docked in Rotterdam, where cargo containers were being offloaded and new ones added. Another 132 were about to arrive, and another 161 had just departed. The expected arrivals included the Ever Living, a sister to the ill-fated Ever Given, of Suez Canal fame.

At a length of 335 meters (nearly 1,100 feet), width of 45 meters (145 feet), and with a deadweight of 104,653 tons, the Ever Living is almost as massive as the Ever Given. But only almost. With a capacity of nearly 10,000 TEU, it’s very similar to the Dali. The Ever Given, by contrast, has a capacity of just over 20,000 TEU, and it’s not even one of the world’s largest container ships.

Indeed, these days, the world’s fleet of ultra-large container vessels (ULCVs)—vessels of more than 14,500 TEU capacity—features a growing number of beasts that can transport 23,000 TEU and more. The MSC Irina, for example, can carry an astounding 24,346 TEU. Today, in fact, the Dali’s capacity of 10,000 makes it a midsize box ship. Compare that to container ships in 1972, when construction began on the Key Bridge: Back then, the largest container ship in the world had a capacity of a mere 2,984 TEU.

The shipping industry keeps making things more efficient—and thus more cost-effective and more attractive. It’s thanks to shipping that it has made so much sense to build a globalized economy: It’s so cheap to ship goods globally that people in wealthy nations can have them made elsewhere, transported across a few oceans, and still pay less than if they were made at home.

But the massive ships come with equally massive logistical demands. Ports have to be expanded to be able to receive and service them. The port service, for example, involves higher cranes with a wider reach: just imagine 24,000 containers stacked upward and sideways. The ports also need larger storage facilities to hold such vessels’ cargo until it’s picked up by trucks. The financial picture involving ULCVs is clear on the vessel-owner side, because buying a ULCV eventually pays off.

Ports are usually public-private partnerships, which means that investment often involves the taxpayer. The Port of Virginia in Norfolk, which the Dali had left just before its ill-fated call at the Port of Baltimore, has just allocated $1.4 billion to widen the port to make it accessible for two-way ULCV traffic. Norfolk is also currently being dredged to the tune of $450 million, after which it’s expected to have the deepest and widest channels on the east coast of the United States.

“This is a true advantage for anyone delivering to or from America,” said Stephen A. Edwards, the CEO and executive director of the Virginia Port Authority, in an interview with World Cargo News. “Our wider channel sets The Port of Virginia apart by allowing for consistent vessel flow, increasing berth and container yard efficiencies, and further improving harbor safety.” It’s a competitive marketplace, and lots of Chinese ports are already set up for ULCVs. Ports and countries that can’t afford ULCV-worthy expansion are out of luck.

And as the Dali has taught the world, accommodating large vessels is not just about ports. They traverse oceans, sail under bridges, and sail through canals. Imagine if the Ever Given or another ULCV were to strike a bridge. Even a sturdier bridge than the Key Bridge (which received a rating of “fair” during its most recent federal inspection) would struggle to withstand such a blow.

Such calamities happen very rarely. It would be extraordinarily expensive for cities and countries to strengthen bridges and other infrastructure that a massive container ship might hit. The Dali’s crew and pilots appear to have tried their hardest to steer the ship away from the Key Bridge when the power supply failed, and they issued a mayday call to alert authorities to the fact that the ship was approaching the bridge. This, though, is unlikely to be the last time that machines fail man.

Even as ships get bigger and bigger, with more and more sophisticated technology, the human brain and hands are an indispensable backup. Giving crews a few more tools with which to manually counteract technology may be the best way of avoiding another Key Bridge disaster.

Shipping—an industry that involves ratings, officers, stevedores, crane operators, ship managers, insurers, and many others—goes on delivering your favorite consumer goods around the clock. It remains a miracle that mishaps involving their floating fortresses occur so rarely.

[owmylasagna-blog]

InkED

Eddy gets a tattoo.

I imagine this takes place in their senior year of high school.

“What fresh hell are you two up to?”

The lanky teen in the beanie stood in the doorway of his best friend and boyfriend’s bedroom to find him lying face down on the floor, ass bare, with their other best friend hovering a hand at the ready with a needle. A small jar of black India ink sat open on the carpet.

“Oh hiya Double Dee,” Ed smiled innocently.

“This most certainly doesn’t look like your history presentation.”

“Very perceptive, babe. What does it look like?” Eddy sarcastically taunted as he got up on his elbows and dramatically batted his eyelashes.

“Don’t get funny with me, mister,” huffed Edd as he dropped his book bag on the floor, “and it looks like a mistake waiting to happen.”

Beside their slapdash tattooing setup was smoking paraphernalia, evidently already put to use from the acrid smell that clung to the air in spite of a paper-towel sploof thrown in the mix.

“Actually it’s a hot cherry.”

“Pardon?” Edd barked in response to Ed not so politely.

“Spicy on the outside sweet on the inside,” Ed clarified as he raised a crumbled page of sketch pad with a simple line drawing of a pair of cherries set ablaze. Edd’s eyes shifted from the page to Eddy’s buttocks where the image had been transferred with red marker. It appeared that he arrived in the knick of time: no punctures or pricks had been made yet.

“Stop reading into it so much, Lumpy. I picked it ‘cause it’s sexy.”

Every nerve in Edd’s body was still screaming as his vision bounced from the open ink jar sitting precariously on the exposed carpet, Ed’s bare hands smudged with drawing media, Eddy’s exposed buttocks, two open bags of chips and a half eaten jar of room-temperature queso, the subpar lighting…

No. This wasn’t happening, not like this. Edd took a few steps back towards the door.

“Stay! Don’t you - either of you - move a single muscle until I get back. You hear me?”

The seriousness of Edd’s tone seemed to sober up his friends just enough for Ed to complacently nod in agreement.

“Whereya goin’?” Eddy wined, turning onto his side.

“Five minutes, Eddy. Can you do that?” Edd pleaded through a clenched jaw. Eddy just blinked slowly as he tried to make sense of Edd’s behavior. He was at a loss.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And he was out the back door, zipping past the window in a flash as he broke into a run through Eddy’s yard. As Eddy and Ed waited for Double Dee to return, Eddy drew figure eights in the carpet with his finger and Ed watched mesmerized.

“Ya think Double Dee would wanna see the Sheldon and Sheldon Jr. tattoos I put on my foot?”

“Based on that response, I think you’d give him a coronary.”

“Like royalty?”

“Yeah, and you’re the jester.”

The two were startled when the door clicked and swung open. Standing in it was Double Dee, his hot breath condensing from the cold air, with a doctor bag grasped in his right hand. Closing the door, kicking his shoes off, Edd trudged over to his friends and got down on his knees. Opening the bag he produced a box of nitrile gloves, single use packets of antiseptic wipes, ointments, bandages, sanitary towels, a headlamp, and a rectangular enamel tray.

He layed a sheet of bench liner that came from his long forgotten “Dissection for Gifted Children” kit down on the carpet, placed the tray on it, and then arranged the ink bottle, unopened needle packets, and some of his own supplies inside in perfectly pristine order. As he worked, he silently huffed, hummed, and sighed. When he finally spoke, it came as a firm command.

“Wash your hands, Ed. With soap and hot water, please.”

Not wasting time, fully at attention, Ed hurried to Eddy’s bathroom.

“Ah I see. So you’re not gonna stop me.”

“Please, Eddy, I know you. If you want to do something there is no stopping you. I don’t care about the tattoo, I’m worried about you getting an infection. Now turn over onto your stomach.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddy replied eagerly, sort of liking Edd’s domineering tone, and did as he was told. He hadn’t bothered to pull his pants back over his left cheek anyway. As Eddy talked, Edd yanked at the waistband of his shorts, “Jeez, if you wanted me out of my pants so bad you could just a- AAH COLD!”

“Stop wiggling,” Edd grinned despite himself after swiping the alcohol wipe against his boyfriend’s ass cheek.

“Stop icing me!”

“You’re good,” a hand playfully smacked down on Eddy’s backside and both teens chuckled.

“You're better,” Eddy smirked at Double Dee. Through his semi-stoned heavy eyelids, Eddy gave him a look that Edd could recognize as genuine admiration. Edd’s body filled with warmth as he smiled back.

“I’m the best.”

He leaned in and caught Eddy’s lips in a kiss. Ed opened the door to the bathroom and chuckled.

“Ew. Cooties.”

“Here, Ed. Quick! Put these gloves on. We wouldn’t want you catching any of the highly infectious Cootie virus.”

“Glove me, Doc!”

Once the gloves were snapped onto his hands, the headlamp put on his head and turned on, Edd continued to instruct the next steps in the procedure. With a new, completely sanitized needle prepared it was time to start putting ink to skin.

Edd first felt the tickle of Eddy’s fingertips skim his arms, wrist, and then go to envelope his hand. He happily took the larger and somewhat rougher hand with its tiny scars into his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Eddy squeezed back even harder as Ed jabbed the first few pokes into his posterior.

“Now, Eddy, can you summarize for me the landmark Supreme Court decisions of the 20th century?”

[jellyluchi]

Mother Language

A/N: My first selfship fic for POTO... Naveed is my hc name for the Persian, and he (or the Sultana from Persia) is not related by blood to Rose. I can answer how Rose came to be at the Opera house but I could not tell you why or how she came to live with Erik… There's not enough mommy kink fics with Erik so I wanted to change that.

Pairing: Erik x Rose Sultana Genre: NSFW Content warnings: cunnilingus, mommy kink, use of the term little boy Summary: In which Erik struggles with his personal projects and throws a tantrum only to be put into his place by his lover...

AO3 Link

If graves were homes of the dead, every tombstone would shelter beneath it a cold and empty living room, followed by bed chambers and wash closets. But the dead do not need such facilities. Yet, Rose must ask herself how different could it be living five cellars below ground to the unmoving corpses.

For one who detests the shadows, Rose became accustomed to its presence with terrifying quickness. Perhaps it was his influence. Or maybe she dug deep enough into her heart to reveal a desire for complete isolation. With him by her side, it is difficult to tell. 

It is no wonder a man such as himself should live like the dead, pin drop silence and darkness ever present in his abode, and the morbid stench that follows him like a shadow permeating from every surface. 

But as he likes to speculate, everyone must grow used to eternity. And every step out of India cemented her feet firmer into her personal timeless existence. That, Rose accepted long ago. 

Perhaps it is the reason for which she finds herself encased between the dank walls, still warm and protected from whatever creatures lurk the opera’s belly. Fingers curling around her book, Rose enunciates the foreign words with difficulty. Soft light accompanies her solitary presence in the living room, the fire by the hearth her only companion. She used to wonder about the final destination of the rising smoke but now knows better than to question his engineering process. 

Speaking of which… 

Sudden loud thuds, shrieks, and shattered glass echoes through the wet walls, muffled but still alarming. Quickly setting aside her reading, Rose races to the study. Fear and worry grip her heart in equal measures. But not for her own life as it is for Erik’s, a sentiment that mirrors uncle Naveed’s in the way the Opera Ghost does not enjoy.

But his display of such foolish recklessness was just starting to lessen with every season. Apprehensive of how he could harm himself, Rose throws open the door in a flurry. 

“What the devil is wrong?!” Rose has always limited her inappropriate language to a handful of special occasions. And this seems very fitting. From the papers littering the floor to a broken lamp which thankfully did not ignite a fire, the state of disarray could only reflect Erik’s psyche at the moment as he crouches across from her position. 

“Erik?” She starts, cautious but collected so as to not alarm him. How such a tall statured man could lower himself nearly flat on the ground and look so small she can never understand. 

“Leave me!” Erik blares, hands wrapped around his temple and the yellow glow of his eyes so blazing in the stark darkness, Rose should be shaking under her skirts. 

“You do not speak to me that way,” she says, her tone even  and her steps getting closer. “Erik, please tell me what's wrong. Please.” 

Oh how she wishes she knew his tongue now. If only to break open into his heart that he could not conceal in his mother language.

His mother language…

Sniveling in the corner, Erik makes no indication of having heard her plea, deciding not to answer the question. He can be so secretive whenever he pleases, pushing her out of his sphere with such violent resistance, it gives her whiplash. But that is why she must be this way…

“If you will not tell me,” she counters, moving to the desk for a look, “I will simply have to-” 

The black of Erik’s mask conceals his expression, but the low agitation of his voice makes him sound like a predator ready to pounce. “Do not!” 

Rose manages to find red inked papers partially torn and annotated, unfamiliar music notes dancing across the pages before a flurry of movement stops her completely. Her lover’s imposing figure stands before her, a strong grip on her arm that forces the papers out of her hands, gliding to the floor in a dramatic flourish.  

Gasping, Rose faces the eyes that burn with yellow fire at her miscalculated action. “Ah! You’re hurting me,” she exclaims with pain, her wrist unable to move due to its restraint. 

Suddenly, as if released from a trance, the man loosens his fingers. Ashamed, Erik takes away his hand, the worried expression of his face completely masked but his eyes dim their glow considerably when meeting Rose’s deep brown ones. 

“I have hurt you,” he says, tone dripping with shame and panic. “Erik has disappointed his little Rose…” His voice trails into a pained whisper and telltale signs of his particular rhetoric threaten his descent into madness. 

The once towering form standing nearly two heads above her, falls onto its knees and Rose knows he will beg for her forgiveness before he even utters a single word. While the momentary shock melts from her mind, she takes the opportunity to direct his attention away, knowing these instances are crucial for him. 

“Are you quite sorry, Erik?” She probes gently. “Come here.” 

Sitting on his desk chair, she gestures him forward, finding it amusing the way he crawls to her like a kicked puppy looking for food. She allows him to rest his head on her skirts, caressing the few locks of hair that remain atop his head. 

Patience has always brought the best results with one such as her lover. She imagines not many have afforded Erik the luxury of their time or care. The most she can do would be to let him speak on his own terms.

“Erik is sorry,” he says, his words wet with tears and no doubt snot under his mask. Heaving at the realization of his mistake, Erik’s mind threatens to spiral into melancholy. At the thought of having to be alone within the walls, at the thought of his little painter leaving him for good. “You will leave your Erik…” 

The silk of his mask which covers his mouth moves from the pressure of air passing through the fabric, a new style that facilitates more kisses among other things. At his declaration, Rose can only shake her head no. 

“I know you are sorry,” she replies. “Do you want to fix it?” Sometimes she gathers he is much too exhausted with himself to even right his wrongs. 

“Yes,” comes his response after a brief pause. Erik always sounds uncertain of himself during moments such as these, looking for her guidance like a dying light in a storm. 

“Good.” Her lips curve into a soft smile, voice still controlled by its volume. “Why don’t you start with setting the lamp?” Rose suggests. And her words do not fall on deaf ears as Erik scrambles to fulfill her request, looking to Rose for approval.

“Very good. And your music notes?” 

It is the wrong suggestion, because as soon as the papers are within his grasp, Erik makes the mistake of looking upon his failures, and the frustration starts to eat at him once more, growling and tearing them to shreds. 

“Erik!” Rose calls. “Look at what you’ve done…” Disappointment palpable in her voice, she does her best to regain his attention. Immediately regretful, Erik’s mood pendulums to the other extreme, begging for her forgiveness. 

“Erik is sorry!” He says, tears of frustration now wetting the silk as he crawls about. Finding the hems of her dress he clutches them for dear life. “Please let Erik fix it!” 

“Do you promise to do better?” 

“Erik promises!” His desperation heightens, voice sounding distressed, and Rose realizes perhaps a different approach is required. 

“Why don’t we give you a reward,” she says, guiding his hands. Cold, long fingers send little shocks to the skin of her calves as she uses his digits to push her skirts higher. The chill of the study permeates within her and she feels a gentle shiver. 

Speechless at the revelation of her legs, Erik watches with rapt attention, hands shaking in her grip yet hungry for more contact. She forgoes any stockings while at home and Erik’s heart threatens to give out at the sight of her plump thighs, the skin soft to the touch. Even in the darkness, her warm brown skin manages to possess an ethereal quality. 

When the little tufts of intimate hair peeks from beneath her open drawers, Erik’s breath hitches, his music forgotten. In fact his brain matter is nothing but mush. His anger now simmering and turning into desire makes him dizzy. “Rose…” he says, breathless, and the longing in his voice nearly breaks her.

“Use your mouth, Erik,” she says, and this time it is not a question but a command which she knows he will obey. 

From the gentle nudge of his hands to her thighs, Erik lowers himself to her, allowing her hands to pull the silk out of the way. It’s a strange sensation feeling his icy, rigid skull on her skin. Rose squeaks, feeling his inexperienced tongue dance around her entrance. Despite the times they have shared this exact activity, he still hasn’t found his footing quite clearly. 

Breathing little moans of pleasure, Rose does not shy away from her praises. “Good boy,” she whispers, feeling the ice of his thin lips turn cool from the heat of her folds. “Very good boy.” 

Her words have their intended effect as Erik groans into her, the glow of his eyes never leaving her form. “Maman…” he says between licks getting lost in the pleasure that is not even his own. “Maman, please…” 

“Here,” she guides, moving her hips to his mouth with more force,  enjoying the lewd groans that seem to escape him with every minute passed. After several tries, Rose finds her climax, panting for breath only to cry out from the overstimulation. 

“That’s enough! Erik has made maman proud,” she tells him, stopping his movements to a gentle halt. Erik’s stare boars into her and she knows what he wants. 

“Do you want to know what maman will let you do if you clean the glass?” 

Smiling at his enthusiastic nod, Rose utilizes her silver tongue once more. And thinks of every little thing that makes this dreary, lonely tombstone home feel every bit less solitary. 

[vapeonlinesworld]

Buy Glass Filter For Blunts Online In India

Glass filter for blunts are one of the most popular ways to smoke cannabis on the market today. The glass filter is a hollow tube that fits into your blunt, cigar or joint and acts as a screen for collecting ash and resin.

The main use of these filters is to keep your mouth from getting dirty from all the small particles that would normally fall into it when smoking without a filter. Many people prefer using glass filters because they don’t produce any smoke, so it’s easier on their lungs. Glass filters are also more convenient than rolling paper because they can be cleaned easily and reused over and over again.

There are many different types of glass filters available in many different sizes and shapes, which means you can find one that works best for whatever type of blunt you want to use it with. If you want something fancy, there are also colored ones available too!

The most popular type of glass filter is the one that fits into a joint or blunt; however, if you don’t have any blunts or joints or if you just want something more discrete then there are also options available for pipes!

The glass filter for blunts is made of high quality borosilicate glass. It has a metal ring on the top and bottom, to make it easier to load up your blunt with herbs. This glass filter is perfect for anyone who likes to smoke weed out of blunts. It filters out all of the nasty ash that can get into your mouth while smoking a joint or blunt, which makes smoking smoother and more enjoyable.

The Glass Filter For Blunts is also very easy to use. All you have to do is place it over the end of your cigarillo or joint, pack it with herbs, then light up! It's small enough to fit in any pocket or purse, so you can take it with you wherever you go!

Glass filter for blunts is the first of its kind, it is a glass that you can use to filter your blunt. The Glass Filter For Blunts will come in handy if you are trying to smoke your blunt with little or no ash on it. It also has the added benefit of preserving the taste and smell of your blunt. While some people may argue that this item isn't needed, others will argue that it is a must-have if you are trying to smoke weed.

Some people say that glass filter for blunts makes smoking weed more enjoyable because it allows them to have a more natural experience. If you have ever smoked from a bong before, then you know how much better this type of filter works compared to something like paper towels or other materials that will not be safe for your health.

The Glass Filter For Blunts allows you to inhale more of the THC content in your joint without having to worry about accidentally burning yourself on any hot ash left behind after smoking up your joint. That's why we recommend using one when preparing your weed joints so that you don't have to worry about burning yourself while smoking up!

[phoenix-knight]

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: so, how are ya doin?

Me: running on fast depleting reserves of energy because I have no idea how others do it and why the fuck does this have to be so difficult?

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: when was the last time you took a breather?

Me: I don't fuckin know, I don't remember...ok I see what you're implying but there is no way law school will be less cruel to me

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: I notice you have the eyes of imminent burnout and forceful productivity

Me: I see you're talking about irrelevant things

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: why?

Me: ok lookie here thought technician, I worked my ass off for a classical dance performance on the 74th Republic day of India, while totally wrecking my body cause my glutes ached for days with all the half-sitting/squatting positions and brutal practice... I got barely 5 days of rest most of which I spent worrying about how the fuck I was gonna complete all the research papers I have been assigned. now our dance contingent is participating in a fest and obviously, I couldn't not go there because its an opportunity for a professional competition, and the dancer in me is hungry for some fucking recognition even if my brain engine is running on sleep deprivation and SSRI meds. I still just had to fucking go cause that's what members do for their team. with all the dance practices till 5 PM, I reach home one and half hour later at 6:30 PM, taking into account the time I take to freshen up in the space of an hour, I have no space to breathe. I am already freaking out about the amount of research I have to get done and the 1500 word essays I have to write. here i am ranting on tumblr about said pressure and stress of managing a hundred things simultaneously, instead of completing what I can. I have gone as far as to bring my laptop to class and read research papers in class while trying to blink my eyes into submission after staring at the screen for too fucking long...*panting*

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: (...)

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: (.......)

Me: *still panting*

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: wow, that's a......

Me: I know what you're gonna say, don't say it, don't you fucking say-

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: ...a lot.

Me: FUCKKKKKK I KNOOOOOOOOOW *lets out a bloodcurdling scream*

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: *looks visibly petrified*

Me: *sighs* that felt better, now that you're on the same page, what the fuck do I do.

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist:(awkwardly) do what you can...?

Me: no shit, doc.

Dr.Tumblr Mindfuckery, The Therapist: *clears throat* look, i know it seems like a shitty thing to say, but really, you ARE doing the best you fucking can with the energy and will you currently have. you have a lot on your plate and that is clearly exhausting, it is totally understandable that at the end of the day you are physically and mentally exhausted. it makes sense that you have little to no energy left to cater to the projects that were assigned to you. you cannot run on empty smoke, human bodies get tired, need alone time, to recharge and replenish energy reserves. human bodies need rest to do better at whatever they can't seem to do after pulling an allnighter. even though juggling things simultaneously is fucking hard, i know you're still standing. you are surviving and moving forward, slowly and surely. take a breath, reprioritize, and focus on doing what you think is possible right now, not on perfecting everything you do. you may not be able to achieve the quality you envisioned, but that quality of research comes from at least weeks of research and enough time to comb through them. you have neither the time nor the energy reserve to do that right now. you have to execute what is currently feasible, not what is clearly unrealistic, such expecting to be able to contribute 100% to dance for 3+ hours, attending classes for hal, travel, study and writing assignments....

Do what you can.

[leebird-simmer]

All About: Cannabis

History

- Cannabis probably originated in China. Medical and religious use can be traced to ancient China, India, Egypt and the Middle East.

- At the beginning of the 19th century, Napoleon’s soldiers brought cannabis to France from Egypt in the form of hashish.

- It became very popular with French writers and artists, who established Le Club des Hachichins (The Hashish-Eaters’ Club) in Paris.

Members included Theophile Gautier, Charles Baudelaire, Victor Hugo, Honore de Balzac, and Alexandre Dumas

- Hemp was grown in colonial America, but marijuana smoking probably came to the US with Mexican & Caribbean immigrants in the early 1900s.

- Cannabis (hemp) plant:

High THC content ---> Marijuana, recreational use

Low THC content (less than 0.3%) = industrial hemp

- In 1937, the Marijuana Tax Act instituted a national registration and taxation system aimed at discouraging all use of cannabis. It was overturned in 1969.

- Largely destroyed the hemp industry {note: this benefited paper manufacturers and thus indirectly benefited logging companies}

- United States Department of Agriculture lifted the tax on hemp cultivation during WWII

Legal Status

- In 1970, marijuana and THC became Schedule I illegal drugs.

2014 Farm Bill: permits cultivation of industrial hemp for research purposes

2018 Farm Bill: made industrial hemp legal, allowed CBD oil production

Preparation

- Marijuana is produced from flowering hemp (Cannabis sativa).

- Marijuana is a mixture of dried and crumbled leaves, small stems, and flowering tops.

- Hemp seeds have been used for oil and bird food.

- It can be consumed orally, as in cookies or brownies, but is usually smoked in rolled cigarettes known as “joints,” various kinds of pipes, or in hollowed-out cigars called “blunts.”

- Hashish is a cannabis derivative that can be smoked or eaten.

- It can refer to a relatively pure resin preparation with very high cannabinoid content, or a solvent extract of leaves or resin.

- Hash oil is an alcohol extract. A drop is placed on a tobacco or marijuana cigarette.

Ingredients

- Hemp contains 70 unique compounds known as cannabinoids, plus more than 400 other identified compounds.

- The psychoactive compound /_\9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) accounts for the use of cannabis as a drug. {note: that’s supposed to be a triangle; sorry}

- Marijuana potency (in terms of THC content) varies widely, depending on the genetic strain of the plant and growing conditions.

- Potency can be increased by preventing pollination and seed production by the female plants. This marijuana is called sinsemilla (”without seeds”).

- THC was identified as the major active ingredient in 1964.

- Burning marijuana causes the THC to vaporize and enter the smoker’s lungs in small particles.

- Effective dose and latency to onset of effects are influenced by the amount and potency of the plant used, and patterns of smoking (e.g. duration of held breath).

Administration & Absorption

Smoking

- Smoking marijuana is the quickest way to absorb THC, with blood levels peaking between 9-10 minutes into a smoke session.

- THC is easily absorbed by the lungs, and blood plasma levels rise quickly.

Edibles

- Thought to yield peak THC blood levels within 1-5 hours post-ingestion

- Poor absorption results in low and variable plasma levels, probably due to degradation in the stomach, first-pass metabolism.

Elimination

- Blood THC levels decline rapidly after smoking marijuana, but complete elimination from the body is much slower because of persistence in fat tissues.

- Half-life varies from a few hours to 3-4 days

- The gradual movement of THC metabolites back out of fat stores means that urine screening tests can detect them more than 2 weeks after a single incident of marijuana use.

Acute Behavioral Effects

- Effects of cannabinoid use vary depending on dose, frequency of use, characteristics of the user, and the setting in which use occurs.

- Subjective & behavioral effects of marijuana use can be separated into four stages: the “buzz,” the “high,” the stage of being “stoned,” and the “come-down.”

The “high” is associated with feelings of euphoria & exhilaration, and a sense of disinhibition.

Relaxation is the most commonly reported effect of being “stoned.”

- Smoking marijuana can sometimes produce transient psychotic symptoms such as depersonalization, derealization, agitation, and paranoia.

- Expectation also plays a role in what effects the drug will produce, as shown by placebo studies.

- Marijuana negatively affects cognitive functions.

Decreased performance for a variety of verbal, spatial, time estimation, and reaction time tasks has been noted.

Cannabinoids appear to interfere with all aspects of memory processing.

- Marijuana can affect psychomotor functioning under demanding task conditions, such as driving.

- Use of cannabis with or without alcohol is a risk factor in automobile accidents.

Acute Physiological Effects

- increased blood flow to the skin and flushing

- increased heart rate

- increased hunger

Chronic Behavioral Effects

- In young people amount of cannabis use is inversely related to educational performance.

- Some research supports the hypothesis that heavy cannabis use leads to persistent cognitive defects, impairing school performance.

- Alternatively, poor school performance and rejection of mainstream values (such as educational achievement) may increase cannabis use.

- Chronic cannabis use can also result in aimlessness, decreased motivation, lack of planning, and decreased productivity (amotivational syndrome).

{note: Amotivational syndrome can also be caused by SSRIs, and since there is a high rate of comorbidity between depression + anxiety, and between cannabis use + depression and/or anxiety, it can be difficult to determine whether SSRIs or cannabis are causing amotivational syndrome in patients who use both substances.}

- Heavy cannabis use over a long period may lead to impaired executive functioning for at least 2-3 weeks following cessation of use.

- Some data suggest that heavy, long-time users may continue to show impairment in decision-making, planning, and concept formation. It may negatively affect the prefrontal cortex.

- Imaging studies suggest that chronic marijuana use is associated with several kinds of abnormalities in the brain.

- Several studies have found a significant relationship between early heavy marijuana smoking and increased risk for later development of psychotic disorders such as schizophrenia.

Mechanisms of Action

- A cannabinoid receptor in the CNS was identified in 1988.

- Receptors occur in many brain areas.

- Localization of cannabinoid receptors in these areas is consistent with the behavioral effects of these compounds on locomotor activity, coordination, and memory.

- Endogenous neurotransmitter-like substances that act on the receptors = endocannabinoids.

- Two main endocannabinoids have been found: anandamide and 2-AG.

- They are retrograde messengers; they carry information in the opposite direction from normal (i.e. postsynaptic to presynaptic).

- THC similar to endocannabinoids binds to cannabinoid receptors located presynaptically on the nerve terminal. They are metabotropic: they work via G-proteins to inhibit presynaptic voltage-sensitive Ca2+ channels, and open K+ channels.

- As a result, cannabinoids decrease neurotransmitter release from the terminal.

Reinforcement

- In one study, regular marijuana users could discriminate THC-containing marijuana cigarettes from placebos with no THC, and all subjects preferred the marijuana with THC when given a choice.

- Animal studies have also demonstrated reinforcing properties.

Lever pressing by squirrel monkeys for THC stopped when placebos were used.

- Mechanisms for reinforcement:

Activation of the mesolimbic dopamine system: VTA --> NAcc

Interactions between the cannabinoid and opioid systems may play a role in cannabinoid reward and reinforcement; opioid agonists enhance cannabinoid self-administration, and opioid antagonists have the opposite effect.

Tolerance & Dependence

- Animals exposed to THC or other CB1 agonists develop tolerance to the behavioral and physiological effects of these compounds.

- It appears to involve a combination of desensitization and down-regulation of CB1 receptors.

Adverse Health Effects

- There are no reports of death from overdose.

- Smoking marijuana can damage lungs: smoke contains tar, other carcinogens, carbon monoxide, etc.

- Possible adverse cardiac effects?

- Immune system suppression

- THC may affect reproductive functions:

In AFAB people, it can affect ovulation.

In AMAB people, regular smoking has been shown to decrease testosterone levels and sperm counts.

Animal research has demonstrated pregnancy failure, delayed embryonic development, and even fetal death with THC administration.

Smoking marijuana during pregnancy results in cognitive deficits, poor school achievement, and increased risk for tobacco and/or marijuana use later in life.

DSM-5: Cannabis Use Disorder

- Marijuana use typically begins in adolescence and peaks during young adulthood.

- If an individual has not yet tried marijuana by their mid-twenties, they are unlikely to begin at a later age.

- Cannabis use varies based on demographics.

- Research shows college students and young adults most commonly use cannabis...

To socially conform (~40%)

To experiment (~30%)

For enjoyment (~20%)

To manage stress or relax (~10%)

- Risk of dependence is related to drug use patterns. People who progress to daily use have a 10-20% probability of becoming dependent.

- Dependence manifests as a difficulty in stopping one’s use, a craving for marijuana, and (in heavy users) unpleasant withdrawal symptoms:

irritability

increased anxiety

depressed mood

sleep disturbances

heightened aggression

decreased appetite

- These are similar to the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal.

Treatment

- Most cannabis users do not seek treatment.

- Treatment in outpatient programs involves cognitive-behavioral therapy, relapse prevention training, and/or motivational enhancement therapy, but patients are very vulnerable to relapse.

- Some research on medications to relieve withdrawal symptoms has been done.

Therapeutic Uses of Cannabinoids

- AKA “medical marijuana”

- Many states now permit legal use, but clinical studies of its efficacy have produced mixed results.

- Smoked marijuana has the highest potential for adverse health effects and abuse; most researchers favor development of cannabinoid-based drugs instead.

- Information from the National Institute of Health

- The FDA has not approved the cannabis plant for any medical use. However, the FDA has approved several drugs that contain individual cannabinoids:

Epidiolex, which contains a purified form of CBD derived from cannabis, was approved for the treatment of seizures associated with Lennox-Gastaut syndrome or Dravet syndrome, two rare and severe forms of epilepsy.

Marinol and Syndros, which contain dronabinol (synthetic THC) to treat nausea and vomiting caused by chemotherapy. Dronabinol is also used to treat loss of appetite and weight loss in people with HIV/AIDS.

- Endocannabinoids enhance the incentive motivational properties of food and food-mediated reward.

- CB1 receptor antagonists reduce food consumption in animals and human subjects.

- In animal studies, marijuana was shown to relieve anxiety and depression.

- There’s some evidence that marijuana might reduce addiction and/or overdoses caused by other drugs.

- Pain perception: transgenic mice that lack CB1 and CB2 receptors demonstrate hyperalgesia (increased pain sensitivity).

- Clinical evidence for cannabinoids as analgesics has not been convincing.

- Nabiximols (Sativex) is a cannabis extract.

was approved in the UK in 2010 to treat pain and spasticity in multiple sclerosis patients (not yet approved in the US)

- A number of years ago, Jamaican researchers prepared eye drops from cannabis extracts (trade name Canasol) for the purpose of reducing ocular pressure in glaucoma patients.

However, the research is inconclusive and Canasol was never licensed by the FDA for legal marketing in the United States.

[poshmarkkml]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NEW!! Roco Sand Long Pink & Blue Dress Medium with Tags.

[edstemcell]

Erectile Dysfunction Treatment in India: Options and Solutions for Men's Health

Erectile problems or ED are a common yet sensitive issue affecting men from every age bracket worldwide, including in India. It is not only a physical condition but influences relationships, emotional wellbeing, and self-esteem. With the advancement of medical science, various options for the treatment of Erectile dysfunction are available within the country. From treatments and medications to advanced options like stem cell therapy, patients can find efficient treatments that will make their lives easier. The paper below presents information on the best solutions for erectile disorders in India and underlines solutions provided by companies like ED Stem Cell Therapy.

Understanding Erectile Dysfunction

Erectile dysfunction, commonly referred to as ED is a set of inability issues to develop or maintain a penis that is rigid enough to allow sexual relations. It happens once in a time is normal however, having it regularly may be an indication of more serious health issues. The cause could be stress and anxiety or lifestyle changes, health conditions such as diabetes, heart disease or high blood pressure and other issues with age.

However, it’s always good to know that ED is curable. With appropriate advice and counseling, men affected may win back the confidence of their sexual partner in health. The erectile disorder treatments are easier to find in India now than ever, as several health practitioners offer special intervention for the said condition.

Common Erectile Dysfunction Treatment in India

1. Oral Medications

Medical treatment of ED is mainly done by the highly popular and effective method of using oral medications. Medications such as Sildenafil, commonly known as Viagra; Tadalafil, known as Cialis; and Vardenafil, known as Levitra, work by expanding the flow of blood into the penis to help create an erection in response to stimulation. These drugs are easily available and form a good first-line treatment option in Indian males.

While oral medicines are useful to many people, they may not be appropriate for everyone, particularly those cases with coronary diseases or those on Nitrates medication. You need to discuss whether this kind of treatment is appropriate for you with a qualified physician.

2. Lifestyle Changes

In some instances, the lifestyle-related choices like alcohol consumption, smoking, or lack of exercise and healthy diet might cause erectile dysfunction. Being proactive regarding these causes by changing one’s lifestyle is an excellent and organic method of decreasing ED. Regular exercise along with good diet stopping or reducing smoking and minimizing stress all have favorable impacts on male sexual life.

3. Psychological Counselling

Not all physical symptoms are the concern when it comes to ED. There are instances where it is linked to mental factors, such as depression, anxiety, and relationship issues. In these instances, therapy or counseling may also become a treatment option. The psychological counseling will help the men cope with the mental and emotional concerns of ED thus helping in improving the sexual functioning and performance in general.

Specialized counselors and therapists in India, related to the sexual health of men, help in removing these mental barriers and boost your self-confidence.

4. Vacuum Erection Devices

If you are a man who would prefer a noninvasive alternative such as vacuum erection machines we exist as a treatment option. We utilize the force of a pressure vacuum system to draw blood into the penis and inducing a sexual erection. A ring is then placed at the base of the penis in order to sustain the erection during a sexual encounter.

Although not as popular as oral medications, VEDs are a perfect alternative for those individuals who cannot take up ED medication due to some health conditions.

Advanced Treatments for Erectile Dysfunction in India

1. Penile Injections

For those who do not respond to oral medications, penile injections can be a good alternative. Medications like Alprostadil can be injected into the base of the penis in order to produce the erection. This is an effective procedure; however, it requires guidance and education for safe use.

These are generally recommended for people who have failed with other techniques and a number of specialists offering erectile disfunction treatment in India also recommend the option to your patients.

2. Penile Implants

The other, less common, penile implants generally used have to be considered a permanent treatment for erectile dysfunction if all other choices do not seem to work. This is a surgical procedure where semi-rigid or inflatable rods are placed inside the penis. Once activated, these types of implants give the rigidity necessary for intercourse.

While the penile implant treatment is highly effective, it is mostly considered as an alternative since the implantation methodology is a bit insidious. A clear idea about the possible outcomes and the risks associated with the process can be obtained by consulting a medical expert.

3. Erectile Dysfunction: Stem Cell Therapy

One of the biggest, most recent breakthroughs for the treatment of Erectile problems is the treatment of stem cells. The latest treatment will make use of the body’s own stem cells to repair tissues that were damaged and heighten erectile performance. Stem cells are a non-invasive procedure that shows promise, especially for people who have had no response to the conventional treatment.

ED Stem Cell Therapy is a well-known facility for the treatment of erectile dysfunction using stem cell therapy. The whole novel idea of erectile dysfunction treatment in India. The process involves injecting stem cell tissue culture-generated cells into penile tissue, which helps in the building of blood vessels and enhances blood flow to the penis. Eventually, men experience more rigid and longer-lasting sex erections.

Why Choose ED Stem Cell Therapy?

ED Stem Cell Therapy has broad experience in offering innovative, efficient treatment solutions for erectile dysfunction. It is one of the well-recognized providers of stem cell treatment in India and has offered a customized approach towards the treatment of ED by ensuring individualized treatment for each patient according to the specific needs of the patient.

ED Stem Cell Therapy is a network focused on the most advanced treatment approaches, targeting patients’ comfort and well-being in order to help men overcome ED and improve the quality of their lives. This advanced treatment promises an impressive response in sexual health while avoiding the risk and negative results that may be linked to other treatments.

Conclusion

Erectile dysfunction is a common affliction that plagues many men across the nation of India. However, this condition is most definitely curable. With remedies ranging from oral medication and lifestyle changes to the very clinical treatments such as stem cell therapy, there are all sorts of options for men in search of successful results to cure erectile problems in India.

This form of treatment represents one of the most forward-thinking and progressive approaches to treating ED, and it may offer men the options of selecting minimally invasive treatments that will facilitate long-term improvements in sexual performance. Be it the consultation for a traditional treatment option or the urge to go for something advanced; speaking to a professional has just become essential to decide on the best treatment against erectile problems in India. By finding the right approach, men are in a position where we can restore their confidence, improve relationships, and enjoy a healthy and happy life.

Source Link:- https://blogool.com/article/erectile-dysfunction-treatment-in-india-options-and-solutions-for-mens-health

[ufss]

Fire Safety During Ganesh Festival: A Guide to Celebrating Safely

Ganesh Chaturthi, the festival honoring Lord Ganesha, is one of the most vibrant and widely celebrated festivals in India. The ten-day festival, marked by the installation of Ganesha idols, prayers, processions, and the final immersion (Visarjan), brings communities together in a joyous display of devotion. However, with the extensive use of decorative materials, electrical setups, and the sheer scale of the celebrations, fire safety becomes a critical concern. Ensuring that the festivities remain joyful without any mishaps requires careful attention to fire safety measures. Here’s how you can celebrate Ganesh Chaturthi safely:

1. Choose Fire-Resistant Decorations

Ganesh pandals (temporary structures where the idols are placed) are often adorned with elaborate decorations made from cloth, paper, and other flammable materials. Opt for fire-resistant or flame-retardant materials whenever possible. Ensure that the drapes and other decorative elements are securely fastened and kept away from any heat sources, such as lamps or electrical equipment.

2. Safe Use of Electrical Equipment

The festive lighting and sound systems are integral parts of Ganesh Chaturthi celebrations, but they also pose a fire hazard if not managed properly. Follow these tips to ensure electrical safety:

Use certified electrical products: Only use lights, wires, and other electrical components that are certified by a recognized safety standard.

Avoid overloading circuits: Distribute electrical loads across different circuits to prevent overheating and short circuits.

Regular inspection: Before the festival begins, inspect all electrical wiring and equipment for any signs of damage or wear. Replace faulty equipment immediately.

Proper installation: Ensure that all electrical setups are done by qualified professionals. Temporary connections should be avoided or, if necessary, should be done with caution.

3. Handle Fireworks with Care

Fireworks are a traditional part of many Indian festivals, including Ganesh Chaturthi. However, they are also a leading cause of fire accidents during the festive season. To minimize risks:

Designated areas: Only use fireworks in open, designated areas away from the pandal and residential buildings.

Keep water and sand nearby: Always have buckets of water or sand on hand to extinguish any accidental fires.

Adult supervision: Ensure that children are supervised at all times when handling fireworks.

Choose safer options: Opt for fireworks that produce less smoke and noise to reduce environmental impact and the risk of fire.

4. Manage Ritual Fires with Caution

The aarti (a ritual of worship using fire) is an essential part of Ganesh Chaturthi. When performing aarti or any other ritual involving fire:

Clear the area: Ensure that the area around the ritual fire is clear of flammable materials.

Use non-flammable containers: Perform rituals in non-flammable containers or traditional brass or copper aarti thalis (plates).

Supervise closely: Always supervise the ritual fire and extinguish it properly after use.

5. Fire Extinguishers and Emergency Plans: Get Fire Extinguisher

Preparedness is key to preventing small incidents from becoming major accidents. Every large pandal should have fire extinguishers readily available and personnel trained in their use. Additionally:

Know the exits: Ensure that there are clear, accessible exits in case of an emergency.

Emergency contact numbers: Display emergency contact numbers prominently within the pandal.

Training: Volunteers and organizers should be trained in basic fire-fighting techniques and first aid.

6. Educate the Community

Awareness is the best prevention. Organize fire safety workshops or briefings for the community, especially for those involved in the installation, decoration, and maintenance of the pandal. Highlight the importance of vigilance and prompt action in case of a fire.

7. Safe Idol Immersion Practices

The final day of Ganesh Chaturthi, marked by the immersion of the idol, also requires careful planning:

Secure transportation: Ensure that the transportation of the idol is done securely to prevent accidents.

Avoid overcrowding: Manage the crowd effectively to avoid stampedes or accidents near the water bodies.

Dispose of materials safely: Do not leave behind flammable materials at the immersion site.

Conclusion

Ganesh Chaturthi is a time of devotion, joy, and communal harmony. By taking proactive steps to ensure fire safety, we can make sure that the celebrations remain a time of happiness for everyone involved. Remember, a safe festival is a happy festival. Let’s all do our part to ensure that Lord Ganesha’s blessings are celebrated without any harm or mishap.

Wishing everyone a safe and joyful Ganesh Chaturthi 2024!

[rauthschild]

Part 1.....

Though we and most of the rest of the world tend to forget this, the Dutch people are the heirs of a sea-faring empire that rivaled and beat the British version.

Their Dutch East India Company was the largest shipping organization in the world in 1700 -- by far.

They carried the most tonnage of cargo, had the largest fleet, and the Dutch Navy that protected this mammoth commercial fleet was in every way proficient and able to protect the commercial fleet on the High Seas and Navigable Inland Waterways.

On many occasions the British found this out the hard way. By the time the Dutch put their man, William of Orange, on the British throne, and their Jewish bullion bankers from Amsterdam fronted the "Bank of England", any contest was well and truly decided in the Dutch favor.

So what happened? The Dutch East India Company disappeared in a cloud of smoke just like the Templar Fleet four hundred years before, after having thoroughly bilked their shippers and insurers via the Bottomry Bonds Scandal.

We first caught sight of something fishy going on from the British tabloids of the times, reporting on the British end of this same scandal, brought to our attention by Jean Keating who was studying this crime in terms of the Admiralty ---- and Admiralty Court reforms --- that this fraud scheme against the budding insurance industry eventually caused.

We didn't immediately realize that this scandal was not peculiar to Britain, but further research has affirmed that the same scandal played out on the European Continent and in places as far-flung as Shanghai and Cape town.

The Bottomry Bonds Scandal may have been the first global-scale crime in history.

Shippers and ship owners and harbormasters (employees of the respective kings) colluded together to create phantom fleets on paper, document them, add convincing details--- and then, via separate insurers, they proceeded to insure both the phantom cargo and the phantom ships.

The "Captains" of these paper ships vouched for all this insurance and paid the premiums on behalf of both the governments and the private shippers involved and the insurers issued "bottomry bonds" to insure the cargos against loss, and the ships against accident.

If these non-existent ships came to ruin in the course of their journey, both the ship owners and the shippers would be remunerated in gold.

On the appointed day, a great wind storm swept the entire Earth clean of Dutch shipping. It was a great catastrophe. Virtually the entirety of the Dutch East India Company fleet and most of the Dutch Navy simply disappeared---- along with the Imaginary Fleet that was heavily insured.

They lowered the Dutch flag, and ran up the Union Jack, then beat for foreign ports, as far away from Amsterdam and London as possible. Back home, the Perpetrators collected on the insurance, and their Agents boarded smaller, faster ships that carried the loot to unknown destinations.

By the time the insurers figured out that they had insured a phantom fleet as well as the "missing" Dutch East India Fleet, the pain was being felt worldwide and the outcry was substantial.

By then, any actual cargo had been off-loaded in places like Singapore, and the majority of the Dutch ships sailing under British flags had been disguised and sold, or scuttled at sea.

We are not fluent in antique Dutch, so we had to read about the British end of this scandal --- and observe that shortly after this, the absolute pre-eminence of the British East India Company and the British Navy was established.

One might think, oh, bad luck for the Dutch!

Or was it? Which fleets were actually taken over?

By careful management, all the old decrepit ships could be "retired" under full insurance, leaving only a sound and modern commercial fleet and navy to serve it.

The unified Dutch-British fleet could be managed by a single joint authority --- the Lords of the Admiralty.

After a short outcry from the public, mainly caused by the defrauded and bankrupted insurers --- an outcry that kept attention focused on the phantom fleet instead of the very real fleet that was "changing colors" --- the insurance industry became heavily regulated by the same Jewish banks from Amsterdam that collect taxes for the Pope and created the Bank of England.

Now the Amsterdam bullion bankers controlled both banking and shipping, and added access to, and administration of, insurance --both public and private-- to their bag of financial control tools.

Within a fortnight mandatory insurance, plus laws and standards governing insurance, were passed by the British Parliament serving the Dutch bullion bankers in control of the Bank of England, who received the insurance franchise, too.

Now, these same banks could levy private direct taxes on the population, demand insurance coverage, and dictate insurance law. With the Treaty of Utrecht and the administration of the Dutch-British Queen Anne who followed William of Orange, they would gain the added benefit of controlling "securitization" of physical assets.

This consolidation of the naval resources only made sense, as William of Orange was sitting on the British throne. The only thing surprising about it, is that he scuttled the Dutch commercial fleet and navy --- but the Dutch fleets were old and decrepit, with many ships dating back two centuries or more. They required constant, expensive maintenance, so much so, that these costs were cutting into Dutch profits, while the British were building a new breed of larger, sleeker, more sea-worthy vessels.

Why not just move operations to England, scuttle both the Dutch commercial fleet and navy, monopolize both commercial shipping and navy protection under the British flag, use the funds from the phony insurance to build new, modern ships, and skate on?

So, that's what they did. The reign of William and Mary wasn't about Protestantism. It was about melding together Dutch and British commercial interests, resulting in the monopolization of sea power on a vast scale.

From then on, the Dutch went into banking and harbor services, smugly staying home and secretly profiting from the British Fleets.

Please note that the tax collectors of Caesar, and later, the tax collectors of the Roman Pontiff, certain Sephardic Jewish families --- the same ones that secretly founded the Bank of England --- were the ones bank-rolling all sides of this, and using "fractional reserve banking" to do it.

Where did they get their money? From investing the Pope's money. Having collected Peter's Pence, they went on to invest the haul for the Popes, and found many occasions to profit themselves as a result of investments they made for the Popes. They were the original Insider Traders.

The Rothschild Dynasty and its exploits have given us plenty of examples of astute manipulations that profited the bankers as much or more than their customers, with nobody having cause to complain, or, in some cases, being any the wiser.

All this may sound crazy, with Jews entrusted to handle Catholic money, but this was the status quo from the Second Century BCE. After the Caesars, the Popes rose, and the Jews simply kept on working for whoever was in power. After all, whether Roman Caesars or Roman Pontiffs, they all wanted gold and plenty of it.

As a result of their mutual trade links and sea-faring investment interests, the bankers of the West met the bankers of the East, and soon, the collusion of banks in both Hemispheres resulted in skyrocketing bank profits as well as the enrichment of the governments profiting from and protecting the bankers.

William of Orange may have been the first ruler to abdicate his responsibilities and hand the keys to the Pope's bankers in Amsterdam, by allowing them to directly tax his Subjects to recoup --- at a profit to be determined by them --- his sovereign debts, but he would not be the last irresponsible despot.

In December of 1913, our purported British Territorial Trustees, opened the door to the Federal Reserve and allowed a group of the same hereditary bankers to do the same thing here, in this country, The United States.

The so-called Federal Reserve Banks obtained the right to apply the same direct taxation to U.S. Citizens in this country that they applied to other British Subjects worldwide. This was "only reasonable" given that Puerto Rico remains a United States Possession, even though it is a British Commonwealth nation.

Why shouldn't the Puerto Ricans be taxed like all the other British Subjects?

So the Federal Reserve Act was pushed through as a private matter affecting only British Territorial U.S. Citizens in the employ of the Crown or naturally living in a British enclave within the purview of The United States-- for example, Puerto Rico.

It was, ostensibly, the Brits taxing the Brits, so the Americans had little or nothing to say about it, and it was a corporate matter internal to the United States of America, Incorporated, so it only required a handful of senior British Trustees to do it in the dead of night on Christmas Eve.

At the time, if caught, their action would have appeared to be innocent and routine enough. Even trivial. The Brits had been allowing the Amsterdam bullion bankers to directly tax them for their sovereign's debts for two centuries by then. It was business as usual for them.

And most importantly, in 1913, it didn't appear to impact the Americans at all.

It wasn't until 1916, and the passage of the so-called Sixteenth (Corporate By-Law) Amendment creating the Federal Income Tax, that a small spate of court cases occurred and feathers were ruffled.

The U.S. Supreme Court at the time threw out a handful of actions and claims as unconstitutional -- when misapplied to Americans and American businesses -- but then, hit its stride by upholding cases where British Territorial U.S. Citizens and their businesses were involved.

To the astute observer the message was clear: Americans and American businesses are not subject to the (British Territorial) Federal Income Tax and it is unconstitutional to apply such a tax to them. However, it is completely fair to apply such a tax to British Territorial U.S. Citizens and their businesses wherever they may be in America.

So, the chase was on.

In 1920-21, the (British Territorial) U.S. Congress passed the Maternity Act and later the Sheppard-Towner Act mandating the registration of all babies born in the (Territorial) United States.

Once again, this was passed off as only impacting British Subjects or Dependents residing in this country or in its British Commonwealth Possessions. It purportedly didn't affect Americans.

So they got away with it.

Soon, anyone born in a public hospital at the hands of a licensed "Medical Doctor" -- a British Territorial Uniformed Officer -- was being "presumed to be" a U.S. Citizen, and registered as such.

The victims of this scheme were given a Birth Certificate and left to assume that this innocuous-appearing document was simply an official memorialization of the birth event.

Americans, like their British counterparts, were given no explanation of this paperwork --- any of it --- at all.

Even the "licensed doctors" were left in the dark, and didn't know that the paperwork they were pushing resulted in the American babies being misidentified as British Territorial U.S. Citizens and wards of the Queen.

And therefore, Subjects of the Queen, and therefore, subject to British Territorial Law, and therefore, also, subject to direct taxation by the Jewish bullion bankers from Amsterdam, and subject to the Federal Income Tax (Peter's Pence) and all the rest of the dolorous European "System" that got its Big Break during the reign of William of Orange.

Certainly, the British people never agreed to be directly taxed for the King's debts by Dutch bankers. Certainly, the Perpetrators of this Scheme had no reason or right to presume that Americans being born in American hospitals were British Territorial U.S. Citizens.

Yet this secretive unlawful and wholesale conversion of Americans from their native birthright political status as State Nationals to the foreign status of U.S. Citizens, has allowed all the chicanery, abuse, and grotesque profit to the British Crown and the Popes and the Dutch Government ever since.

The "birth registration" has formed the basis for the abuse of Americans and illegal confiscation of American assets by the "U.S. Trustees" and at the hands of "King's Bench" courts put in place in British Territorial "Judicial Districts" established throughout this country.

This conversion of our nation to a foreign citizenry provided a fraudulent basis for the Kings and Queens of Great Britain to latch onto our American assets as collateral backing their own sovereign debts. It also provided an excuse for the "Federal Reserve" to tax us as if we were U.S. Citizens, and to "enfranchise" us --- the step where they act as Public Usufructs and create franchise corporations of the USA, Inc. named after us.

In a diligent search of all the Federal Code and even such records as the Minutes of the Governor's Conferences, we have found only one (1) honest public reference to the entire Birth Certificate Scam. It is a fleeting mention in the First Inaugural Address of Franklin Delano Roosevelt about "clearinghouse certificates" related to the Municipal "citizens of the United States".

This is the only known public acknowledgement of the fact that "Birth Certificates" are clearinghouse certificates --- and the only hint that these "Birth Certificates" are bonds and that those in possession of "Birth Certificates" have been sold into bondage and obligated to pay debts.

In the case of those unlucky employees of the United States of America, Incorporated, the British Territorial U.S. Citizens, they are obligated to pay --- as a direct tax imposed by the bullion bankers -- the sovereign debts of the British Monarchs.

In the case of the even more unlucky employees of the (Municipal) United States, Inc., who are considered "citizens of the United States" and who are slaves of the Holy Roman Empire, they are obligated to pay the debts of the Popes and Holy See -- read that, "Holy Sea" and you will get the gist of it.

You are looking at the British Take and the Dutch Take, with the Popes and their faithful Jewish tax collectors orchestrating all of it and profiting from both sides.

Once the Brits opened up the Birth Certificate Registration Fraud in America and began registering American babies as if they were U.S. Citizens, the Roman Catholic Church brought the Internal Revenue Service, Inc., ashore as a Delaware Corporation in 1925 -- four years after the Sheppard-Towner Act passed in 1921.

The British Bunko was so wildly successful that the Holy Roman Empire got directly involved in the racket shortly afterward, and began "double registration" of American babies and children.

If the Brits could pretend we were U.S. Citizens and that meant -- indentured servants and Wards of their King and British Subjects, then why not pretend that these "U.S. Citizens" were also slaves of the HRE?

So another "Birth Certificate" was issued, the so-called "Short Form", and another gratuitous foreign citizenship obligation, that of a "citizen of the United States" was conferred on the unlucky American schoolchild already fraudulently "registered" as a U.S. Citizen by the Brits.

This created the second franchise and the second clearinghouse certificate that was being alluded to by Franklin Delano Roosevelt in his First Inaugural Address in 1933. It resulted in the Municipal Corporation franchises doing business under OUR NAMES, and reclassified all the American babies and schoolchildren as "Federal Dual Citizens" --- all purportedly Subjects of the late Queen and the Popes, all purportedly obligated as indentured servants of one and slaves of the other, to pay whatever "direct taxes" the Dutch bullion bankers decided to apply.

And nobody said a word to the Americans or to their actual American Government about any of this. We had to find out about it from people like Karen Hudes telling us that we were "in interregnum" -- much to our surprise.

The irony, of course, is that all the Principals involved --- the Dutch Government (Treaties of Ghent and Westminster) and the British Government (Treaties of Paris) and the Popes (Treaties of Versailles) --- owe us, Americans, "good faith service" and "perpetual amity".

Under the Federal Constitutions that implemented all these Treaties, these Principals and their Corporations by extension, are obligated --directly-- to provide all that "good faith service" and "perpetual amity" --- which they have grossly violated while still receiving their paychecks from our pockets and acting as our employees to promote this grotesque impersonation and unlawful political conversion scheme in our midst.

We began serving Due Process on them in 2007 and completed this action in 2014. We convicted them of Gross Breach of Trust and Violation of their Service Contracts as of April 14, 2014, though as we have since discovered, these Principals and their Jewish bullion banker friends are guilty of a great deal more.

This entire circumstance explains all those Puerto Rican shell corporations named after Americans and all the Municipal CORPORATIONS named after us, too.

Hundreds of millions of Americans have been falsely registered and misrepresented as "Federal Dual Citizens" under this fraud scheme and this has been ongoing since the 1920's. These Americans have been falsely taxed and their property assets and the value of their labor and their natural resources and public infrastructure have been illegally plundered and confiscated by these Perpetrators.

We have uncovered additional fraud schemes against our innocent States and people going back to the 1850's.

As a result of this immense debt which the Perpetrators have additionally fobbed off onto the victims via repeatedly and purposefully bankrupting their own guilty corporations ---which were never owed the benefit of any corporate veil as a result of their criminal activities--- we have foreclosed upon and nationalized all of their holdings.

Worldwide.

Mr. Trump has been working with the same Jewish Bullion Bankers originally from Amsterdam and their families in the present day, trying to work out some kind of "deal" to continue the status quo with a few concessions --- such as releasing the American people and others worldwide from paying debts that they literally don't owe.

We are not impressed.

We are, reportedly, supposed to accept both the existence of and the responsibility for a new "American" State --- the State of Israel, which is, like all the other British Territorial "States" simply a "Confederate State of State" ---- a corporate franchise of the USA, Inc., or as they are now calling themselves, "the American Government, Inc." --- another British Crown Corporation in the business of providing "essential government services".

Like all the other such franchises pretending to be States of the Union, this new British Territorial "State of Israel, Inc." would be foisted on the world and on us, as if it were a complete and actual State of the Union, and owed our protection under our national sovereignty.

We decline the offer.

This gross disservice and criminality on the part of these Principals and their corporations is worthy of worldwide attention and action.

It is self-evident that Americans in general are not responsible for the sovereign debts of British Monarchs, nor are they responsible for the debts incurred by Roman Popes waging "wars", aka, "crusades" of any kind.

Nor are Autochthonous Black and Brown Americans subject to any form of law meant to be applied to corporations.

[tremendouspersonarbiter]

Hernia Surgery Specialist in Hyderabad.

Are you looking for the trusted hernia specialist in Hyderabad? who provides best treatment for it, look none other then Dr. N. Subrahmaneswara Babu one of best gastroenterologist and hernia surgeon in Hyderabad. He has 16+ experience in this field where he has treated different types of hernia’s like Hiatal hernia, Inguinal hernia and many more with 99% of success ratio.

Dr. N. Subrahmaneswara Babu has received many awards at prestigious international and national conferences, including recognized for best paper presentations. Currently he is a Consultant Surgical Gastroenterologist and Advanced Laparoscopic Surgeon at EVOKE Clinics, Secunderabad, and Apollo Hospitals Hospital, Hyderabad. He has treated over 8,500+ patients suffering from various gastrointestinal conditions, including hernia, gall bladder and appendix., providing expert care in both surgical and non-surgical treatments. Choosing Dr. N. S. Babu for hernia treatment in Hyderabad will give you expert care, personalized treatments and fast recovery from this disease.

What is a Hernia?

A hernia is the protrusion of an organ through the structure or muscle that usually contains it. The condition occurs most often in the abdominal wall when the intestine pushes through a weak spot in the wall. The most common abdominal wall hernia is an inguinal hernia. Men are eight to 10 times more likely than women to develop an inguinal hernia, and the risk rises with age: Occurrence is most common in people ages 75 to 80.

Abdominal wall hernia repair is one of the most typical types of surgery. More than 3 million hernia repairs are performed each year in India. And worldwide these surgeries are estimated to top 20 million annually. The majority of hernia repairs make it extremely important for people to be aware of their options—for surgery, anesthesia, and postoperative pain relief.

Let’s know the Causes of Hernia.

According to  best GI surgeon in Hyderabad and  hernia specialist in Hyderabad Dr. N. S. Babu, says  both men and women can get a hernia. A hernia develops when an organ or tissue is pushed out by pressure from an opening or weakened muscle in the patient’s fascia. This weak region may be present from birth or develop later in life.

Weak abdominal wall (from aging, genetics, previous surgery)

Straining (from heavy lifting, coughing, etc.)

Chronic constipation

Obesity

Fluid buildup in abdomen

Smoking

Other factors like age, genetics, and overall health can also contribute to hernia development.

What are the Hernia symptoms?

The symptoms of a hernia may include:

A bulge or lump in the affected area

Pain or discomfort in the affected area, especially when lifting or straining

A burning or aching sensation at the site of the bulge

Weakness or pressure in the affected area

Nausea and vomiting (in cases of incarcerated or strangulated hernias)

Different Types of hernias?

Some of the most common types of hernias are explained below.

Inguinal hernias, in the internal groin area, occur when the intestine protrudes through either of two passages in the lower abdominal wall called inguinal canals.

Femoral hernias, in the upper thigh/outer groin area, occur in deeper passages called femoral canals. They are much less common than inguinal hernias and are far more likely to occur in women than in men.

Ventral hernias occur through an opening in the muscles of the abdomen. There are three types of ventral hernias:

Epigastric hernias occur above the belly button.

Incisional hernias are caused by a weakening of the abdominal muscle resulting from an incision made during a previous abdominal surgery.

Umbilical hernias, which occur near the belly button, are most common in newborns, especially those born prematurely. These hernias usually close on their own by the time the child turns 4. Umbilical hernias can be more problematic when they occur in adults.

Hiatal hernias occur when the upper part of the stomach bulges into the chest through a small opening (the hiatus) in the diaphragm. The hiatus allows the esophagus, which carries food from the mouth to the stomach, to pass through the diaphragm.

These are some of the most common types of hernias, and a healthcare professional can diagnose and recommend the appropriate treatment.

How is Hernia Treated?

Hernia treatment is based on the type, size, location, and severity of the hernia. In some cases, a doctor may recommend watchful waiting if the hernia is small and not causing any symptoms. Medications such as pain relievers, anti-inflammatory drugs, or muscle relaxants can relieve pain and reduce swelling. A hernia truss, a supportive device worn over the hernia, can help reduce discomfort and prevent the hernia from becoming larger. Hernia surgery is the most common treatment, which involves repairing the weak muscle or connective tissue using open, laparoscopic, or robot-assisted methods. Making lifestyle changes such as losing weight, avoiding heavy lifting, and quitting smoking can also help prevent hernias or reduce their size. Consult a doctor for the best treatment option for your case.

What are the options for hernia surgery?

Hiatal hernia symptoms are treated with medication, but most other types of hernias require surgical repair, There are two main types of hernia surgery: open surgery and laparoscopic surgery. The type of surgery recommended depends on the location and type of hernia, as well as the patient’s overall health and preferences. Here are some of the options for hernia surgery:

Open hernia surgery: The surgeon makes a cut in the groin to view and repair the hernia. After repairing the hernia, the surgeon uses stitches alone or stitches and a piece of mesh to close the abdominal wall. The mesh is designed to support the weak area of the abdominal wall where the hernia occurred.

Laparoscopic hernia surgery: The surgeon makes several small cuts in the lower abdomen and inserts special tools to view and repair the hernia. The surgeon typically uses a piece of mesh to close and strengthen the abdominal wall. There are some surgeons who opt for robotic repair, which means they sit at a console controlling robotic arms that perform the surgery.

Robotic Surgery: This is a type of laparoscopic surgery that uses a robotic device to assist the surgeon in making precise movements during the procedure.

Mesh Repair: In this type of surgery, a synthetic mesh is used to reinforce the weakened area of the abdominal wall, reducing the likelihood of recurrence.

Suture Repair: In this type of surgery, the weakened area of the abdominal wall is repaired using sutures (stitches) without the use of mesh.

These are some of the options for hernia surgery. A healthcare professional can recommend the best option based on the individual patient’s needs and circumstances.

How to Manage Pain After Hernia Surgery?

Hernia surgeries generally do not cause a high level of post-operative pain, and pain can be managed with medications. These pain relievers can be supplemented with opioids, although this often is not necessary.

Limiting the use of opioids helps avoid negative side effects, including problems urinating after hernia surgery, which have been known to occur in a minority of patients after inguinal hernia repair. Postoperative urinary retention occurs most often in people over age 50, especially males. Taking medications as directed prior to surgery, including medicines for benign prostatic hyperplasia, which is caused by enlargement of the prostate, also helps prevent postoperative urinary retention.

Under medical direction, measures might also be taken before surgery to limit postoperative pain and nausea. Consult your physician or anesthesiologist about whether these are appropriate options for you.

Recovery After the Hernia Surgery:

Recovery after hernia surgery typically takes several weeks, but the exact timeline depends on several factors such as the type of surgery, the patient’s overall health, and the location of the hernia. Here are some tips for a smooth recovery after hernia surgery:

Follow Doctor’s Instructions: Following the doctor’s instructions for wound care, physical activity, and pain management is crucial for a successful recovery.

Get Adequate Rest: Getting enough rest is important for the body to heal, so avoid strenuous activities and get plenty of sleep.

Gradually Increase Physical Activity: Gradually increasing physical activity as directed by the doctor can help reduce swelling, improve circulation, and speed up recovery.

Manage Pain: Pain medication as directed by the doctor, ice packs, and other pain management techniques can help relieve pain and reduce swelling.

Avoid Strenuous Activities: Avoid heavy lifting, pushing, or pulling for several weeks after surgery to give the incision time to heal.

Eat a Healthy Diet: Eating a healthy diet that is rich in protein, vitamins, and minerals can help promote healing and improve overall health.

Recovery after hernia surgery is typically uneventful, but following these tips can help ensure a smooth and successful recovery. If there are any concerns or complications, it’s important to reach out to the doctor for advice.

Why choose Dr. N Subrahmaneswara Babu as Hernia Surgery Specialist in Hyderabad?

The Professional Summary Of Dr. N.S. Babu – Best Hernia Surgery Specialist in Hyderabad

Experience and expertise: Dr. Babu has extensive experience and expertise in hernia surgery, making him a trusted and reliable specialist in the field.

High success rate: Dr. N. S. Babu has a high success rate for hernia surgeries, which is a testament to his skills and abilities as a specialist.

Patient reviews: Patients who have undergone hernia surgery with Dr. N. S. Babu have reported high levels of satisfaction, which can be seen in their positive reviews.

Advanced surgical techniques: Dr. N. S. Babu is known for using advanced surgical techniques that lead to faster recovery times and fewer complications.

Personalized care: Dr. N. S. Babu provides personalized care to his patients, taking the time to understand their individual needs and working with them to develop a tailored treatment plan.

Who Is the Hernia Surgery Specialist in Hyderabad?

Dr. N. S. Babu and their team has a dedicated and caring approach and will seek to find you the earliest appointment possible with one of the best hernia surgeon in Hyderabad – Dr. N. S. Babu for your needs. For more information about our comprehensive treatment options, or to request an appointment with the best gastro care clinic in Hyderabad. Call us on 9443355668.

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Step-by-Step Guide To Buy Mini Bongs in India

In the world of smoking accessories, where everything thrives and adapts to survive- mini bongs have managed to become a top contender in a rich tapestry of pipe culture. They perform the same tasks as their larger alternatives, with all the convenience of being both a little and very discreet institution. In India, the smoking culture has come a long way and there is no longer stigma associated with bong users especially when they find mini bongs as reducing some heat from them. Mini bongs India.

The Appeal of Mini Bongs

Mini Bongs are Very Portable Ganja gadgets gives you the best vape pens for weed with easy usage and are perfect to use on your lunch time. Traditional bongs can be difficult to transport or hide away when not in use, but mini - including one hitter and nano size options - are made with portability a top priority.

Additionally, mini bongs are usually a low-cost alternative to bigger (more expensive) brethren - on the whole fairly attainable

Cultural Significance in India

Culturally, smoking in India is not anything new, and it has some links with different aspects of almost every social and spiritual rite. Some smoking devices like the chillums are known to have been in existence for centuries serving their religious and social functions. This is a major tradition that has been made even more versatile and trendy through a combination of mini bongs in the modern world.

Bongs vs. Chillums: This paper aims at Comparing

Bongs

The sociofact Bong, no matter its dimensions, works on the paradigm of water purification. Smoke goes through water and is inhaled; this way, smoke is cooled and clears at the same time. It also assists in the filtration of some of the dangerous ingredients contained in smoke making bongs a preferred smoking accessory for health conscious people.

Mini bongs do not in any way lose this important aspect even when they are a lot smaller than their larger counterparts. These are meant to enhance the effectiveness of the filtration of water in a minimized structure because the designers do not want users of this device to lose the benefits that are associated with the common bong. This makes mini bongs as a choice for those people who desire the benefits of a bong, but do not want to have the large apparatus with them.

Chillums

Chillum, on the other hand are straight conical pipes that have been in usage in India from time immemorial. They are mainly designed and shaped to fit perfectly in the hands, and are very easy to use, thus considered by many smokers. Chillums do not employ water purification; thus, smoke goes through the pipe from the ashes of the burning substance to the mouthpiece.

Thus, the smoke in chillums is denser and richer and while they are more efficient and direct as opposed to bongs, they do not possess the cooling and filtering properties. This can result in a harsher hit, or a member of the audience in question not finding the process of smoking as enjoyable as used to be the case. Nonetheless, due to the cultural relevance and the ease of use of the chillums they remain so much popular.

The Increasing Popularity of Mini Bongs in India

Coming to the part of the mini bongs in micro and emerging market we find out that the Indian market has expanded quite a deal in the recent past. Several factors contribute to this trend:Several factors contribute to this trend:

Portability and Convenience: Mini bongs are convenient since they are small and can easily be transported and used in places where one does not want the attention of other people. This appeals to young smokers as well as the business and frequent travelers as it is easy to carry around in smaller packs.

Affordability: It is found that mini bongs are normally cheaper when compared to the large bongs, meaning that it can easily fit the budget of so many people.

Variety: Mini bongs can be found in a variety of designs, materials, and colors available in the market since people have different preferences.

Cultural Shift: Due to this, a traditional smoker is willing to give innovative smoking commodities such as mini bongs a try. This change is initiated with the objective of enhancing the ease of smoking process among users.

PROTOCOLS TO BE FOLLOWED WHEN SELECTING THE BETTER MINI BONG

When selecting a Mini bongs, several factors should be considered to ensure a satisfying experience:When selecting a Mini bong, several factors should be considered to ensure a satisfying experience:

Material: There is the use of the finest materials for instance borosilicate glass, these offer the best solution because they are difficult to break and are heat resistant. Avoid using low quality glass or plastic since they they taint the taste and safety of the smoke.

Design: Choose a design that is easily to clean and maintain should be considered. Some mini bongs have percolators or diffusers to filter the smoke in the water, which is added as an extra.

Size and Portability: Make sure the bong doesn’t get too large but is proportionate to the quantity of water which will improve filtration.

Brand Reputation: It is always good to use recognized brand names so that you are guaranteed a good product. Some recommendations and reviews are proven to be useful in making some decision.

Mini bongs market and its prospect in India

Summing up, it can be concluded that there are good opportunities ahead concerning Mini bongs India. The given market still has a high potential for growth; subsequently, the improvement of designs and functions can be expected. Such syncretism of somehow indigenous smoking culture with the progressing westernization and advancement in technology will portend creation of new products that weigh in the most current tastes of the Indian smoker.

Furthermore, as the general public receives information concerning the necessity of water filtration, more smokers are likely to use mini bongs. Such a change could even go a long way in consolidating the use of mini bongs in the overall smoking fraternity in India.

Conclusion

Modified cigarettes, Mini bongs India  in particular has ensured its own place in the Indian market characterized by convenience, affordability and efficiency. DOI scholars’ rise also symbolizes their work in general, modernizing traditional practices but at the same time preserving ethnicity. For frequent smokers or first-time users, mini bongs will be the next best thing and a perfect addition to your smoke sessions. Thus, as the market for bongs grows, we can recall that mini bongs in India have never looked brighter so as to reap fabulous prospects for both the experienced and amateur users.

Read More : https://www.mokshabongs.com/Exploring-the-Meaning-of-Chillum-An-Exploration-of-Tradition--Culture