#recalled artificial tears eye drops

[sportsnewsblogging]

Ehud Barak: Netanyahu Has Gone off the Rails, Must Be Removed from Office

The political landscape in Israel has been tumultuous, to say the least. In recent news, former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak has called for the removal of current Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu from office, citing concerns about his leadership and actions. In this article, we will delve into the reasons behind Barak’s statements, explore the current state of Israeli politics, and discuss…

[miguel-owhora]

dragon!price who's an alpha—a lonely alpha. he's been alone for quite some time now, his nest barren and empty, no mate to sing dragonic songs back to him miles away, no mate to rekindle the embers in his heart.

his hoard—sorry, the 141—help him fill these empty spots. soap's rambunctious attitude and gaz's encouragement and ghost's dryly amused comments fill in the lonely parts, bringing him down from the soaring heavens and back to the ground, where price hears the thumping of the earth's core if he falls back into his dragonic instincts deep enough.

dragons are rare to come nowadays. most spend their lives in secrecy, in some rural land most would struggle to pronounce the names of, spent hiding in either solitude or with their mates—and in certain cases, families.

so imagine price's surprise when laswell drops in a new member into his little hoard. she says it's temporary, but there's a glimmer on her eyes when she says it, one that makes sense when price sees you—another dragon.

an omega, price's alpha brain tells him, awakening with glee at another dragon hybrid, at someone who could complete him. a potential mate.

price's alpha instincts are purring when he introduces himself, and he must look like a fool, when he hears his boys sniggering in the background. something lights up something in his chest, instincts roaring to life, when you smile at him and shake his hand. your hand makes his burn, hotter than anything else, hotter than the fire he hatched out of.

it comes to no surprise to him when you're even more reserved than ghost. dragon hybrids are already secretive as they are; omega dragon hybrids are worse. but eventually, price worms his way past the walls you've put up and the fun part comes: courtship.

for every type of naturalborn hybrid that roams earth, they each have their own courtship rituals. for many of them, alphas must prove their worth to their potential mate. werewolf hybrids will bring back game, will defend territory; harpies—depending on which region they live in—will also prove their worth by bringing back prey and helping to build nests.

price can recall the number of times soap had dragged in the corpse of a deer, still warm and fresh to ghost, or how gaz had proudly weaved a wall of brambles and sticks (nevermind the nails and sharp blades) outside ghost's private room. it amused him to no end, seeing them fall prey to their instincts.

but price isn't laughing when he succumbed to his own instincts.

your introduction to the team and you letting price get close to you already had his dragonic alpha mind reeling with excitement. even moreso when you approved of him courting you.

now, dragon hybrids were something else. oftentimes, they were more older than the other hybrids, more ancient and forged deep within the earth's core, connected to mother earth like no other. as such, their courting rituals were more.. barbaric, in other words.

price feels alive when he has to fight you, when your claws dig at his skin and his teeth at your shoulder, near your bite mark. when you roar with fury and punch him away, when your omegan sex has his alphan sex pumping with life. when you both tear up the training room, your set of wings flapping and glittering underneath the artificial lights, when price finally pins you down, when you give a purr of approval.

price finds the prettiest items and gifts them to you, when he dances between feeling overjoyed when you accept it, feeling like he's been stabbed when you reject it. gift by gift price feels pride bloom within him when he sees your little gift hoard grow. when he gifts you a pack of his cherished cigars and gives you his signature hat, he has to go outside and do circles in the heavens when you accept it with gentle hands and carefully guard it.

all of his hard work pays off when you tug him by his scruff and take him to your bedroom, where your bed is carefully nestled with different blankets, with clothes that reek of him. he feels like the luckiest man when you strip yourself of your clothes and lay on the bed, letting your wings—gorgeous things they are—spread out underneath you, take up the bed. your cock, hard and leaking and big, lays on your belly, cum pooling like ichor.

you spread your legs, the scent of an omega ready to mate and take what's theirs, registering in price's brain. it's all he needs before he's racing to tear his clothes off and climbs on you.

he's purring loudly when he touches you all over, dipping his head to kiss at your body, thankful that you gave him the chance to prove his worth. your scent is thick and heavy, musk strong. it makes the embers in his chest flicker and grow to a small fire.

the fire grows when he slips his cock inside, shuddering at how tight and hot you are, burning him. you don't help him, content to lay back and let him figure it out, but price is more than happy to do it by himself. anything for you.

he gets you to cum several times, spilling all over your belly, makes you whimper his name, dig your claws into his back and pull him close to kiss him hard.

price is only ever given permission to cum when you decide he's worthy. your claws dig into your chest and rip it open, an ancient heart beating, cracks of old magic glowing an unusual color. price knows what's to come, but he still grits his teeth when you also rip his chest open.

his knot is forming, catching on your hole, when the two hearts—ancient and waiting for each other after so many years—intertwine together. price pushes his knot in and finally cums, fuck, he shudders and moans, in pleasure and in pain when he feels your anal barbs dig around his cock and knot, making sure he's secured for a while.

the world seems brighter when he collapses on you, open chests bleeding together. he gives little nudges of his hips, cockhead kissing your womb, brushing against your prostate. he feels you sigh contently, and price's heart is a wildfire.

[bored-storyteller]

Ok this is totally self-indulgent that's off the canon, but I wrote that and now you can find it here. It is related to this and the continuation of this. Of course you are free to ignore it.

Sally Face, Sal Fisher x Reader

The sun in the night

"It's me."

If you hadn't noticed how much his fingers were shaking, now you surely heard it in his voice.

"It's really me." Sal insists, because he doesn't know what else to do.

You are there, in front of him, illuminated only by a cold artificial light, the road is empty except for you two, and you hold three large sunflowers in your arms.

"Don’t be afraid." He keeps telling you, because that's what he expected to find in you: amazement, fear, disbelief.

Yet he sees none of this in your gaze, or maybe he does, but not in the sense that he - people - would expect.

You are motionless in front of him, he almost thinks that you are not breathing, and perhaps he fears more than you the consequences of his reckless gesture, of having sought you out.

"I ... I'm back ... if you can say so ..."

Oh, how much he would like to ask you not to cry. But what right does he have? And why are you crying? For him, or for the wounds he inflicted on you? How much he wished things had been different between you two, a trip to the underworld is not enough to start all over again.

Your tears are silent, they slide down your cheeks, on your expressionless lips. And you're looking at him like you're waiting, waiting to see him disappear, maybe.

"Please ..." he finally begs, in a whisper. Sal knows he cannot expect anything, but he feels cold, cold and lonely in being so distant from you. He felt your pain, he felt it inside of him, and he would pay any cost - more than he has already done - to hold you in his arms.

Now, a word would be enough for him, just one, even a sigh.

But you don't speak, you just stand there looking at him, with wet eyes and clenched teeth.

And then, as if you were a dream, he sees you reach out to him; extend your arm in the direction of him. He doesn't hesitate in his moves, he hardly thinks when he approaches you.

Your palm is now on his chest, he holds it gently over his heart, his living heart beating in his ribcage.

"I'm here ... it's me ..." he repeats again, like a broken record, without daring to look up at you.

Even just your passive touch is a refreshment to him. At least you are there, at least you are in front of him, at least you know that he really is there.

And there would be so many things he would like - no, he should – to tell you, but like a raging river in a too small crack he can't get anything out. Everything is too important and nothing is enough. He has the distinct feeling that one wrong word can make you go away, forever, and a thousand deaths won't be enough to bring you back to him.

But he has to tell you something, he has to talk to you, he can't drop everything out of cowardice, he can't.

"I love you."

They are not his words, they are yours. The first words you say to him after his return, the first time he hears your voice.

Ba-bum.

His heart is heavy and light at the same time, it sinks into his bowels and rises until it becomes tears in his eyes.

He looks at you now, his lips parted so he can breathe under the mask. And you cry with all the emotions painted on your face as your hand squeezes against his ribs.

And if you have managed to stop the world, it is still you with a sweet whisper to recall everything, again.

"Believe me ..." you beg him. It is a desperate prayer full of all the pain you have felt. “Believe me please, I love you. I've never stopped doing it and I won't be able to stop, please ... "

And he believes that you could continue forever, in that frightened plea. You don't ask him to reciprocate, but to believe you, because he didn't.

"I know it." He interrupts "God, I know ... I know and ..." And he's so sorry he didn't believe you. How many times he would have taken back this words, while he was thinking of you, while he perceived in his own soul your suffering, your remorse for not having been able to make him understand it in time, for not having made him feel loved enough.

He would like to tell you all this, he would like to tell you that he was wrong to trust himself more than you.

But your hand on his chest is now gripping his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to hold him, as if he could disappear at any moment, and who guarantees otherwise?

He has already left you.

And you're not even expecting him to really stay, you just want him to know that you love him, and you love him with a sweet, tender, strong love that goes beyond even death itself.

"And I love you too." And it is the only important thing he has to say to you now, when he sees you collapse under the weight of an excruciating sadness that you have endured without perspective.

"Sal ..." His name in your cry sounds like the lament of a puppy left alone, and you finally come back to your home. You are against him, in his arms, your wet face hides against his neck, his blue hair softly covers your head.

And he holds you tight, he finally protects you, feels you real, in flesh and blood.

"I have so many things to tell you ... to explain and ..."

"I don't want to know ..." you whisper, never leaving your shelter "I don't want to know how you did it, or why ... if it's a dream, I don't want to know. Just stay with me. "

He understands, and he accepts it.

Your head is resting on his shoulder like when you were sitting together by the lake years ago. Your hand looks for his, and caresses it, like the last time you met, and like the first time you met, the sunflowers shine among you.

[stervrucht]

Steve Harrington\Eddie Munson | Rated: M | cw: Blood, Death, Gore | Tags: Alternative Universe: Vampire, Horror, Dom/Sub undertones, Implied Mind Control, Dubious Consent, Vampire!Eddie, Hotelclerk!Steve | AO3

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The Graveyard Shift - Part 2

They are heading northwest from their last gig in Cincinnati. The highrise of the city center quickly makes way for long stretches of road until the city is nothing more than a bunch of lights in the rearview mirror.  

The guys are giddy, strung up from another good show—another good hunt. Eddie is happy to leave Ohio behind; to be returning to his home ground of Indiana. 

True, the state itself isn’t much to look at, but in the darkness of the night, he doesn’t care much for a scenic view. 

When was the last time he laid his eyes on the vast green fields, the rich yellow of dried wheat, or the cerulean sky? Eddie can hardly recall—it has been decades after all.

Compared to the first half of the 20th century, the 80s are a spectacle to behold. The morals are looser, the clothes more revealing, and hunting was never this easy—never this fun. Eddie likes the way he can walk around at night now, bathed in light and color like he’s living once more. 

And the music is something else. 

It’s hard to believe he might have missed out on this—on the leather and the smoke and the loudness of it all. The shrieking of guitars and voices that perfectly captures the chaos of the world; to instill darkness in mortals, not through death, but through music. 

What a splendid age indeed.

Indianapolis shines like a beacon of light in the distance and in this new age, this time of neon lights and secondary colors, it might as well be Eden itself. It shines in darkness much more than it ever did in the light of day.

When they arrive in the city, Gareth drops him off at some gaudy hotel, and it’s their usual spiel. They stay at separate hotels, avoid suspicion, and then once their show is over, they leave again. Ditch the city and trade it for another. 

Rinse and repeat, for centuries to come.

The hotel looks different from the last time Eddie stayed there a decade ago. New owners have tried to put their mark on history. Tearing down the old and replacing it with artificial plastics that seem so prevalent at this time. 

It’s cute, the way they try, but few are ever remembered. Most will disappear into obscurity—just another name on a tombstone until that erodes as well.

Most, but not Eddie. 

Not Corroded Coffin.  

The new marble floors are laid in a checkerboard pattern—polished to such an extent that they reflect anyone who walks on them. It’s a giveaway, but Eddie doesn’t worry about that. Humans are remarkably dim; remarkably easy to fool. 

Not that he minds. Eddie prefers his food a little dim.

Behind the front desk stands a boy. Eddie could smell him from outside—the smell of lifeblood and light. It matches his looks in every way. He has an easygoing charm to him. 

The boy doesn’t notice him as he massages his temples and Eddie feels like a fox stalking a rabbit unaware of its impending doom. 

After so many decades, it’s easy to move without sound—it’s thrilling, the way people jump, the way their eyes go wide as they grow uncomfortable. 

Unconsciously they are aware that something is wrong, but humans have grown out of touch with their instincts. They push the feeling down because in this age, evil can be found in board games, books, and the wrong kind of love. 

Evil comes in human form—it needs no horns or teeth or claws. It comes in clever tongues, greedy hands, and an insatiable hunger for more, m ore, m ore—

When Eddie sees the boy, he thinks goodness may persist in equal measure. It gnaws at him, the familiarity of it, but he can’t allow himself to go there—not again. It’s a specific kind of anguish. A yearning he can’t mute.

He yearns for Steve before he even learns his name. 

And it sounds like a melody, the way his heart rate spikes when Eddie grabs his wrist; his scent a perfect blend of nervous curiosity and excitement, unpolluted by the stench of fear.

Eddie feels his mouth water as his nails dig into his flesh. He pulls back. He has indulged himself too much already. 

Not this one. Not yet.

Around 4 AM, Eddie orders room service, and some kid with freckles shows up at his door. 

Tommy

He smells like trouble—it radiates off him like perfume as his cheeks flush with expensive wine and stuffs his face with the food Eddie provides. 

Call it his last supper. Eddie does have some humanity. 

Eddie watches him with a lazy swirl of untouched wine in his hand. Tommy doesn’t notice he doesn’t drink. Tommy doesn’t notice much of anything. 

Tommy talks. 

He talks a lot and it’s all bullshit. But, fuck, if that isn’t the type of person Eddie enjoys toying with most—cocky and a little rude. They break so beautifully.

The guys have given him shit before, called his tastes fancy. And maybe they are right, just a little, because Eddie has a type. 

Tommy isn’t it, but he’s close enough. 

He’s sure the guys are fine with this one. Someone unreliable, who oversleeps and skips out on work. Someone who won’t be missed—not until it’s too late.

Yes, Tommy will do , Eddie reminds himself as he sinks his teeth into the boy’s neck. Tommy whimpers helplessly, somewhere between pain and pleasure. The initial resistance wears off fast as the venom fills his veins. Eddie feels his heat seep into his body and he moans against his skin; grabs the back of Tommy’s neck to pull him closer.

There’s nothing quite like blood. Nothing quite like the overwhelming pleasure of life on his tongue as Tommy’s pulse grows weaker and his skin pales. 

When Eddie feels Tommy’s heart hitch he knows it’s time to stop. He pushes himself away and creates some distance as he watches. Pupils blown and white-faced, Tommy’s jaw moves helplessly for a minute or so before Eddie sees him fade.

Eddie stands up then. He hates the final spasms—hates the actual dying part, no matter how often he does it. It reminds him of himself, and how he skirted death before he became what he is now.

He moves to his window and stands in front of it. The city is alive with lights, regardless of the hour.

Reflected in the window he sees Tommy’s body give a singular violent jerk.

Death throes.

“It won’t be like last time,” Eddie whispers as he thinks of the boy named Steve.

—

It is morning and Robin is seated at their little breakfast table with a slice of half-eaten toast and a newspaper in front of her. The kitchen smells of bread and coffee and it instantly makes Steve relax. It’s the scent of coming home, especially now that he works night shifts. He makes himself a cup of tea and sits down next to her. 

Robin takes another bite of her toast and looks at him. “Alright, spill it.”

“What?”

“You have something to tell me. I can see it in your face.”

Steve sends her a playful frown before pulling the two backstage passes from his breast pocket and sliding them toward her like they’re business cards.

Robin studies them a moment before looking back at Steve. “Remember when I said they were weirdos? That definitely extends to them backstage.” She pushes the passes back to Steve. “How did you even get this?” 

Steve steals her toast and takes a bite. “Their lead singer—”

Robin snatches her toast back and pulls a face. “Dude, swallow before you talk.”

“Sorry.” Steve swallows heavily, “As I was saying, their lead singer is staying at the hotel. Tommy didn’t show up tonight so I had to pitch in on room service duty. Kinda sucked balls, but hey, I got something good out of it I guess.”

“And you were so good at pushing a cart this guy just happened to give you backstage passes?” Robin gulps her coffee and eyes him over her mug.

“So what if I was?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, fine. He invited me into his room and made me have wine with him. Happy now?”

“Steve, that’s really weird.” She frowns into her mug.

Steve fiddles with the handle of his mug. Robin is eying him intensely and she’s probably right. It’s a little weird, but she’s also overly suspicious. “He was just being nice. It was nearly morning. Maybe he felt guilty about the food.”

“Food? He ordered food at what, 5 AM?”

“Hotel guests are always weird. You don’t know half of it. This actually only classifies as mildly unusual.”

“So, what say you? Will you join me tonight?”

“There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

“No chance.”

Robin seems to be giving in and Steve feels strangely victorious. “Okay, I’m coming with you tonight, if only because I’m pretty sure this guy has some unbecoming intentions with my sweet Steve.”

Steve laughs and takes a sip of his tea. Robin smiles back at him, tentatively.

“Highly unlikely. I’m not a girl.”

“That means nothing, Steve. Believe me.” Robin flips the newspaper to the next page and they sit in silence for a moment.

It’s a rainy morning and Robin will have to leave for class soon. Steve hates how their schedules contradict each other now. He squeezes her hand affectionately and gives her a reassuring smile.

“It’ll be fun.”

Robin smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

—

“Are you really wearing that?” Robin asks him that evening.

Steve looks himself down. He’s wearing a polo and jeans. Hardly an offensive outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh Steve, they’ll eat you alive,” she says affectionately. “Hold on.” 

Robin leaves the room and Steve moves to one of the mirrors to study himself. His outfit isn’t like Eddie’s on the pamphlet, nor like the people in the record shop, but he can’t see what’s wrong with it. 

“Catch.” Robin throws a black fabric ball at him and Steve turns around, just in time to get hit square in the face. He yanks it off his head and unfolds it. 

“ Heart ? Isn’t it a faux pas to wear shirts of other bands?”

“I didn’t know you spoke French, monsieur Steve. Did you pick that up at that fancy hotel of yours too?” Robin is smiling at him.

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s the cross-words okay. Now answer the question.”

“It’s fine…ish. Besides, it’s the only thing I have close to your size. It’s better than your polo, believe me.”

Steve sighs. “Fine, I’ll be right back.” 

—

Robin is right, this isn’t his scene. Steve self-consciously tugs at the slightly too-tight shirt. He’s glad she made him change because people are indeed dressed differently here. 

Steve hasn’t attended many music events. Music has always been in the background, not something he consciously paid attention to.

Corroded Coffin hits differently.

It’s the darkness and heat of the small concert hall. People are dressed in black and leather, drenched in defiance and sweat. But the ambiance is magnetic and it lures Steve in. It makes him believe he can become one with this collection of misfits as the drums pound in his head with Robin at his side. Guitars cut through him and Eddie Munson’s voice stitches him back together.

Robin sticks to his side, hands on his arm. She’s wary and Steve doesn’t understand how she’s not taken by this, by the music that sounds so much like love feels.

Robin eyes him suspiciously. Her eyebrows are knit together as she holds his face and scans his eyes. “Did you slip in some alcohol while I wasn’t looking?”

Steve swats her hands away. “Of course not. Where would I even get that?” 

Steve isn’t drunk. He can’t be, but the atmosphere feels charged with it. “Just relax Rob, have fun,”

The music is loud and talking is hard. Bodies are squeezed against them from all sides as they make their way back into the crowd. 

When Eddie announces their last song his eyes briefly meet Steve’s in the darkness of the crowd. And surely Eddie can’t see him, not really—it’s too dark and the stage lights are too bright. But when he hits his guitar and runs his lips against the metal grid of his microphone, Steve thinks he looks like a god come to life. 

Steve is mesmerized by it. Can tear his eyes away from the way Eddie’s mouth moves over the microphone like a lover would. Steve hardly hears the music at this point. The world is faded at the edges and it feels like nothing exists except for Eddie and himself.

Eddie looks at him, and this time Steve is sure he sees him. Eddie’s eyes hold his, lips moving over the microphone as he sings his final note.

The crowd erupts in cheers and the spell is broken.

When the band moves off the podium, chaotic mumbling rises and fills the concert hall. The lights come back on and suddenly all intimacy seems gone.

Rob squeezes his arm, her eyes shooting towards the exit in signal for Steve. She pulls him along, making her way through the mass of bodies around him until she comes to a halt, so suddenly Steve almost crashes into her.

In front of her stands a bulky man dressed in a suit. 

“If you’ll follow me,” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, but briefly turns his back, walking towards the stage rather than the exit. 

Robin shoots Steve a wary look, but he ignores it, grabbing her by the wrist to pull her with him. She resists for a second before giving in.

The man leads them through the crowd to a door near the stage. He holds it open for them and beckons them to go through. The man steps past them until they arrive at another door. He holds it open again and when Steve walks through he is greeted by several other people lounging around. 

They’re all girls. 

Pretty girls with dark clothes and drinks in their hands—champagne flutes and elegant wine glasses. Some seem a little buzzed; somewhere between the softness of alcohol-induced relaxation and nervous anticipation.

The door falls shut behind them and the girls look up at the sound. They greet them, some with a soft ‘hi’, others with a wave. Some of them ignore them altogether.

Steve doesn’t really care. He isn’t there for them. The girls don’t seem to care either—mostly focusing on themselves or the friends they brought.

“Let's get out of here Steve,” Robin whispers in his ear. She’s glued to his side, antsy to get away, and Steve has to admit the situation feels strange. Now he’s not engulfed by the crowd the high is starting to wear off, and the atmosphere unsettles him a little.

The room is pretty barebones and all the girls are wearing VIP tags around their necks, just like them. 

“Let's just get one drink, then we’ll go.” Steve offers. He makes his way over to a table with various drinks—mostly alcohol. Steve decides to be responsible and grabs a soda for Robin and himself. Robin seems nervous enough as is, she doesn’t need Steve’s drunk ass on top of everything.

A little while later the man who led them earlier is back and asks them to follow him once again. Muffled music sounds throughout the hall until a door opens and suddenly music is blasting. 

The room is dark with a few lights scattered around casting warm light and dark shadows. The room is hazy with smoke, walls lined with brick, and Persian rugs scattered on the hardwood floor. It must be one of the rooms for performers to relax before and after the show, Steve realizes. 

Loud cheering erupts as one of the band members downs a glass of red liquid in one go. Some of it runs past his stubbled chin and he wipes at it with his sleeve.

The large man clears his throat and the band members look up towards the door opening. 

“Come in, come in!” A guy with blond curly hair motions. They disperse and the members seem to gravitate towards their respective guests.

“Steve!”

Eddie walks towards him with open arms and Steve feels that familiar pull again. It tugs at his mind and swirls in his gut with a sense of unfounded longing.

Before Steve can react, Eddie has him engulfed in a tight hug and Steve can feel the buttons of his denim vest dig into his chest and the skin of his cold bare arms stick to his own sweat-slick skin.

“And you must be his friend.” Eddie releases him and turns to Robin. He doesn’t hug her.  Instead, he takes her hand with a cordial bow and introduces himself as ‘Edward Munson, but call me Eddie’.

The tension in Robin’s posture seems to relax a little then. “Robin,” she says.

Eddie’s attention turns back to Steve and he eyes him up and down.

“Dig the shirt,” he says, clicking his tongue. Steve looks down at the tight fabric stretched over his chest and pats at it self-consciously.

“What did you think of the show?” Eddie looks at Robin, then at Steve.

“It—it was great. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Steve says. Next to him, he sees Robin’s eyebrow move ever so slightly. It’s a tell, but Eddie won’t know that. Robin thinks Steve’s full of shit. Is probably judging his life choices at this very second. That’s fair. Maybe Robin is just having a bad day. 

“Great show,” Robin echoes, but there is little passion behind her words. She looks at her watch, and honestly, Steve thinks it’s a little rude with Eddie right in front of them, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are glued to Steve. A handsome little smile growing on his face as he throws an arm around his shoulder.

“Say, we’re heading to a club after this. Afterparty kinda deal. Care to join us?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but Robin beats him to it.

“We have class tomorrow morning.”

We. Now that was a lie. Robin really wants to get him out of here.

“I don’t,” Steve corrects her, “An after-party sounds fun. Can’t sleep anyway—night shifts you know.” Steve shrugs.

Robin shoots him a desperate look. “Can I steal him for a moment?” She asks Eddie. He nods and releases his grip on Steve’s shoulder.

Robin leads him to one of the corners of the room. The music is loud, and the other band members are chattering with the girls. One of them has a girl on his lap as they engage in a very intimate conversation.

Once they’re out of earshot, Steve focuses his attention on Robin. “What the hell, Rob!”

“Steve, something about this is off. I swear.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve says, but it doesn’t sound convincing. Robin quirks a skeptical eyebrow as she folds her arms over her chest.

The thing is, Steve doesn’t really care. This is the most fun he’s had in a good while. Life has been boring these past few months. He is just finding his footing again after Nancy dumped him. He doesn’t understand why Robin can’t let him have this.

“Steve, I mean it. I’m going home. I really do have class in the morning. If you know what’s good for you, you will come as well.”

“I’m staying, Rob. I can take care of myself.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares her down.

Finally, Robin relents. She sighs, pulls the VIP badge from her neck, and shoves it in his hand. 

“If you’re about to do something stupid, look at my name and maybe—don’t do that thing,” she says. She gives his arm an affectionate squeeze and makes her way to the door, looking back once with furrowed brows before closing it behind her.

Steve stares after her. His excitement tainted with a strange guilt as he stands there alone.

“You alright there?”

Steve turns around and sees Eddie looking at him with worried eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. My friend—” he looks at the door again and frowns, “she had to leave.”

“That’s too bad, man. Listen, we’re about to head out, yeah. I got us a taxi, we’re sharing with Gareth and his harem.” Eddie points a thumb over his shoulder towards the guy with curly blond hair. He’s surrounded by three girls.

Steve shoots him a smile, and when he stares into Eddie’s impossibly dark eyes, he feels all guilt wash off him and that strange sense of longing and anticipation return.

The taxi is a tight squeeze. One of the girls takes the passenger seat, which leaves Eddie, Gareth, and two additional girls in the backseat.

A blonde girl decides to share a seat with her friend by sitting on her lap and Gareth squeezes himself into the middle seat next to the girls. That only leaves one window seat.

“Not a bad idea,” Eddie says, staring at the girls, “you can sit on my lap,” he offers, sending him a little smile. Steve laughs sheepishly until he realizes Eddie meant what he said.

“Won’t you be uncomfortable? Maybe we should get another taxi—”

“It’s only ten minutes. It will be fine,” Eddie waves his hands. 

Steve relents and settles himself into Eddie’s lap. They’re both guys, it isn’t weird at all. He was on the basketball team in high school. He knows guys can be close without it having to mean something. Maybe if he were a girl, he would be worried.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he hears their morning conversation echo. 

‘That means nothing, Steve. Believe me.’

He shakes her off, even when he feels her VIP pass poke into his thigh from the pocket of his jeans.

The car ceiling is low, and he has to bend his neck a little with the added height of Eddie’s thighs beneath him. There’s no shifting or moving about. He sits planted firmly, full weight on Eddie’s lap. They can’t wear a seatbelt like this, which annoys him somewhat. It thrills him too, the edge of danger, however small.

Everything about tonight is strange and exciting.

The car ride is short indeed. He feels Eddie’s bones dig into the back of his legs, and Eddie holds him, arms wrapped around his waist, but it’s only to steady him. Steve tries not to move too much. He doesn’t want to make it more uncomfortable for Eddie than it has to be. It’s a tight squeeze as is, with all five of them on the backseat, and it doesn’t help that Gareth keeps messing with the girls on his side. His elbows poke into Steve’s side now and then, and it makes him shift in Eddie’s lap.

“We’re almost there,” Eddie breathes against his neck. Steve feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His will is soft and pliant and he feels like he’s drunk again. He wonders how Eddie’s doing that; wonders why Eddie even invited him along when he could be surrounded by a cohort of girls as well, although he loses that train of thought quickly.

Steve stumbles out of the taxi once they arrive, and Eddie steadies him when he steps out behind him. There’s a large line in front of the building—so long that it cuts around the corner— and Steve can only imagine how long it will go on from there.

The red neon sign spells out ‘Candlelight’ and it casts a warm hue on the concrete sidewalk. It makes Eddie’s hair look a deep auburn and fire-red reflect in his black eyes.

Steve hasn’t been to many nightclubs in Indianapolis. Before, when he was dating Nancy, there was little reason to, and now that he has his job at the hotel, his nights are often otherwise preoccupied. Robin indulged him once after he and Nance broke up, but after getting hit on by several guys, she quickly decided she never wanted to do it again. 

Not that it matters. Steve liked spending whatever free night he had watching movies with Robin just fine. And he would like to meet his next girlfriend organically anyway, not in nightclubs through beer goggles or whatever.

Their entourage is moving towards the double doors of the nightclub and Eddie lays a heavy hand on his lower back. He feels his fingers grace his skin where his shirt rides up; feels Eddie’s sharp nails rest on his skin like talons. It sends a shiver down his spine. 

Once one of the other guys talked to the bouncer, they’re allowed in, and Steve is a little starstruck by the way they get to skip the line. 

As they walk through the double doors, Steve is engulfed by light and moving bodies to music that thumps so loudly he can feel it in his bones.

A strange night indeed, he thinks as Eddie guides him in.

---

@shunna

@bookworm0690

@stripey82

@sexymothmanincarnate

@gaydrieeen

@ilovecupcakesandtea

@hiscrimsonangel

@eddie-munson-addict

@limpingpenguin

@bloodrising

@dotdot-wierdlife

@wheneverfeasible

@cryptid-syste

@lawrencebshoggoth

@scoops-aboy86

@ignoremyworld

Please leave a comment or send me a message if you wish to be included/removed from the taglist for this fic.

[hezzabeth]

NANOWRIMO DAYS 1-10

Saying Farewell to Armageddon

Act 1

The first winter

This is not a ghost story. Well, technically, it is, as it involves the haunting consciousness of someone who is definitely dead. Probably dead. Most likely dead. In the far-off future, true death is mostly optional.

This is not a fairytale. Granted, there is a princess in disguise. There is a fair bit of magic. True love prevails. But no, this isn't a fairytale.

Rather, this is a war story.

3834 AD: Ten miles from Skandasaipur, a city on Mars, part of the country of Mangalrajya.

A cold and burnt-red winter. Turquoise snow gently falls in tiny cubes, landing on the rust-colored dirt. In the distance, right on the horizon, there are pillars of smoke. Somewhere a city is on fire. “Aiyo Rama! They better not have burned down the teleportation port again! It makes shipping the ice impossible,” a young woman called Sugafana sighed from deep within her layers of bright purple and emerald green protective clothing. Her companion, a man covered in dark blue and silver, sighed, leaning down on his shovel. “Calm down! We can always drive down to Samarthanagari and use the public pod station,” the man, whose name was simply Jay, said. Sugafana merely grunted with annoyance before picking up her own shovel.

Once, Sugafana had worked in Samarthanagari's best girls' school. Every Thursday and Monday, she would march in through the front gate with her smart green briefcase. The school was now nothing more than a steel shell. “The hair curlers burned that pod station last month,” Sugafana reminded Jay, who sighed. “Just keep digging, Martian snow is going for fifty credits per kilo right now,” Jay pointed out, and Sugafana picked up her shovel before digging into the ground. Fifty credits a kilo. Before the war, Martian snow went for five dollars a kilo. Every Shigmo, children would eat cups full of the stuff flavored with sugar and wild honey.

“I can practically feel your frown from here,” Jay remarked as Sugafana scooped then snow up before dropping it in her bucket. “Prices are getting ridiculous! Barf cheene ghan used to be super cheap, and now vendors will have to charge ten credits to make a profit,” Sugafana growled with annoyance. “And it’s just dry sugar ice,” Sugafana finished as she stuck her spade into the snow again. “Correction, it’s dry sugar ice that some people believe has magic powers!” Jay cried in a sing-song voice. “And do you believe that?” Sugafana sarcastically asked. Jay shrugged. It was the sort of shrug Sugafana had seen many times over the past two years they had spent ice farming. A shrug that indicated Jay wasn’t willing to really believe in anything. Sugafana struck the ice again with her shovel, and there was a sudden faint clinking sound. “There’s something here,” Sugafana said, feeling faintly surprised. “You probably just hit some black ice, the snow fell during the night and the field was empty yesterday,” Jay pointed out. No human alive would dare to go out into the snow at night. The icy winds would tear through layers of protective clothing freezing blood in its veins. “The appliances wouldn’t come out here, no energy charging grids for miles,” Sugafana pointed out as she leaned down to push the cubed snow away with her gloved hands. “I heard the richer appliances have started using humans as portable batteries. They make the humans run ahead of them on treadmills,” Jay recalled as he shifted, standing behind Sugafana. “And who told you that? Your gossiping premika?” Asked crisply. “I told you before, Minty is not my girlfriend,” Jay said wearily, and Sugafana gasped. An eye was staring back at her in the snow. A shiny golden eye. “It’s an android,” Sugafana said, pushing more snow away to reveal a lady's face. A long and elegant face with Cupid bow lips and a stately nose. “Hit it with your shovel,” Jay ordered her. “I said Android! Not appliance! Androids don’t have artificial intelligence,” Sugafana snapped with annoyance as she quickly used her shovel to clear more and more snow. “They don’t? I thought all electronics were determined to turn us into slaves,” Jay remarked as Sugafana unearthed golden shoulders covered in a magenta silk shawl. “My transportation pod uses an electric battery, the lights at camp use electric wind power, and none of them have killed us,” Sugafana pointed out, and Jay raised a gloved finger. “None of them have tried to kill us yet,” Jay merely replied. “Just help me! Baba Tarak will find us a buyer who will pay a small fortune,” Sugafana said, and Jay kneeled down next to Sugafana, his gloves brushing against the snow. For a moment, their eyes met. It was amazing, Sugafana thought, what a person could tell just by glancing at someone’s eyes. Sugafana had never seen Jay’s entire face. They always met five times a week on the fields in their uniforms, helped each other shovel the snow, and then said goodbye at the migrant camp's gates. It has been that way for years. Once or twice, Jay had been foolish enough to ask Sugafana if she wanted to stand together in the food ration line. She always said no. It was easier that way. Still, Jay’s eyes were so dark it was almost impossible to see their pupils. They did, however, crinkle in a way that whispered they were kind. “That’s peculiar,” Jay remarked, breaking away from her gaze. His hands had uncovered a peculiar glowing lump that extended just below the android's chest. “It looks like a perfectly normal maternity droid to me,” Sugafana replied, brushing more snow off its legs. “Is that what they look like? I’ve never seen one in real life! Most women had their babies in my town the old-fashioned way,” Jay remarked. “I used to walk past a boutique selling them on my way to work! I never saw actual pregnant women in the city,” Sugafana replied as she cocked her head to one side, trying to find the android's barcode. “Strange, there’s no identification,” she said to Jay. “And what does that mean exactly?” Jay asked.

[gummify]

Quick psa as someone who works in optometry -

Right now there is a recall on a few brands of artificial tears (namely EzriCare and Delsam Pharma) due to contamination with a rare antibiotic-resistant bacteria.

If you use eye drops please check your brand and if you use these you may want to consider seeing a doctor ASAP. Eye infections are incredibly serious as your eyes are so close to your brain, and this particular bacterial strain is aggressive. 3 people have died from this recall thus far and 4 others have lost their eyes.

Stay safe out there folks

[feminist-space]

"A Snohomish County man has died from a blood infection officials believe was caused by over-the-counter eye drops, according to the Washington State Department of Health.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) recalled Ezricare Artificial Tears on Thursday after a "multistate outbreak" of an extensively drug-resistant strain of Pseudomonas aeruginosa.

Public health investigators have not confirmed the Snohomish County man used an Ezricare product, although he did use artificial tears.

"Patients have been coming and going, 'What the heck? How is it possible that an eye drop could kill somebody?'" said Dr. Evie Lawson, optometrist at Eyes on You in Seattle.

KING 5 spoke with two eye and vision experts Thursday to learn more about the bacteria.

"This specific strain of Pseudomonas is actually very resistant to multiple antibiotics," said Dr. Courtney E. Francis, ophthalmologist and Medical Director at University of Washington Medicine Eye Institute.

Ezricare is sold in multidose, single-use bottles.

"Preservative-free artificial tears don't have a way to stop bacteria from contaminating them," Francis said.

If used incorrectly, Lawson said that single-use products can present risk for infection.

"You open this up, you use the drops, if you set it down next to your sink, and then you pick it up the next day, you put a drop in. If there's any-- you washed your face, water splashed over this, water has the bacteria in it, all of a sudden that's now infected, and there's nothing there to kill those bugs. And so you put the drops in, boom, you've just infected your eyes," Lawson said. "If it gets into that bloodstream, then all of a sudden it's blood-borne, it's through your entire body."

The CDC said at least five others infected in the US had permanent vision loss linked to Ezricare. You're encouraged to stop using this brand of eye drops and discard them if you have them.

But eye doctors said it's best not to panic.

"This was a very rare instance for this to occur," Francis said.

Rather, see a doctor right away if you used Ezricare and have symptoms.

"Kind of some goopy discharge, or a little bit of redness?" Lawson said. "Don't wait two weeks to see what is going to happen."

Meanwhile, Ezricare has stopped distributing the eye drops and is urging consumers to stop using the product."

[xipiti]

Two more people have died and more details of horrifying eye infections are emerging in a nationwide outbreak linked to recalled eye drops from EzriCare and Delsam.

The death toll now stands at three, according to an outbreak update this week from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. A total of 68 people in 16 states have been infected with a rare, extensively drug-resistant Pseudomonas aeruginosa strain linked to the eye drops. In addition to the deaths, eight people have reported vision loss and four have had their eyeballs surgically removed (enucleation).

In a case report published this week in JAMA Ophthalmology, eye doctors at the Bascom Palmer Eye Institute, part of the University of Miami Health System, reported details of one case linked to the outbreak—a case in a 72-year-old man who has an ongoing infection in his right eye with vision loss, despite weeks of treatment with multiple antibiotics. When the man first sought treatment he reported pain in his right eye, which only had the ability to detect motion at the point, while his left eye had 20/20 vision. Doctors noted that the white of his right eye was entirely red and white blood cells had visibly pooled on his cornea and in the front inner chamber of his eye.

The man's eye tested positive for a P. aeruginosa strain resistant to multiple antibiotics—as did the bottle of EzriCare artificial tear eye drops he had been using. After further testing, doctors switched the man's treatment plan to using hourly doses of antibiotics to which the bacterial strain was least resistant. At a one-month follow-up visit, the redness and eye infiltrates had improved in the man's eye. But to date, the infection has persisted, the doctors reported, as has his vision loss.

[defensive-tactics]

FYI

[reality-detective]

The manufacturer of a brand of over-the- counter eye drops said that it was recalling the product, EzriCare Artificial Tears, after it was linked to a drug-resistant bacteria strain that has caused at least one person's death and vision loss in five others.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has advised people to stop using the eye drops, as the agency investigates an outbreak of a strain of the bacteria pseudomonas aeruginosa, which can cause infections in the blood, lungs and other parts of the body. This strain of the bacteria had never been identified in the United States before the current outbreak and is resistant to a class of antibiotics called carbapenems, which are generally considered a last resort.

The bacteria strain had been found in 55 people in 12 states as of Tuesday, the C.D.C. said. The agency said that the infections had caused one death, vision loss in five of 11 people who had eye infections, and some hospitalizations.

Another Note👇

They stop this but let a vaxxine known to cause multiple adverse effects and tens of thousands of deaths continue to be used. History has shown inoculations we're stopped after 25 adverse reactions and or deaths.

Does this even make sense to you?🤔

[geralyn8]

Two eye-drop products, sold under the names EzriCare Artificial Tears Lubricant Eye Drops and Delsam Pharma’s Artificial Tears Lubricant Eye Drops, have been recalled by their manufacturer, Global Pharma Healthcare, due to potential bacterial contamination.

Consumer Reports

[opalthea]

[ Entry #4 : He Said He'd Change. ]

Event-based writing (for Astro Attorney,) selfship.

Somewhere in Fontaine...

✧.

In this small, humble home, was a heartbroken wife, inconsolable as she wept. Her lips never stopped for a second as she recalled every little thing she knew about her husband — the things she knew that she wished she didn't, and desperately wished wasn't real — and yet, they tremble and pause, quivering every time she remembered a detail that she missed. A detail that further proved that her accusations couldn't be JUST accusations alone.

"I'm so sorry." Esther frowned, instinctually wrapping up her client in a gentle embrace. Unfortunately, it only made her cry harder, her tears leaving marks on Esther's white blouse. It didn't matter, though, not to her, because she couldn't imagine how much pain she would be in, if this was her.

If this had been her.

Out of courtesy, Heizou slipped out of the room, and excused himself as he searched around the house. He said something about 'looking for the water from the Primordial Sea' and 'anything about his frequent outings', so she'll leave all that to her trusty detective. He has got his intuition, he would be fine on his own for a bit.

Her client whimpered, again, as her hands balled up the back of Esther's perfectly ironed, white blouse. "I just— How could-" she sniffled, and Esther felt compelled to rub her back soothingly, "no matter how bad things are, we wouldn't have- I wouldn't have..."

How horrifying. Downright cruel.

If marriage was a sign of love, trust, and effort, then how could a man not think twice? How could a man's first thought when a fight breaks out, be to kill someone?

Not just someone, too. His own wife.

She already hated men in general. If this was the rate — what with that crazy lunatic and the missing girls that he had dissolved — she was about to start actually doing crimes.

However, she was merely an attorney in this.. game that she was in. There was nothing else for her to do but complete the commission, and protect this woman.

"You didn't deserve that," she had murmured, frowning- no, glaring at the floor beneath them. As if the floor was the man she sought to put an end to. "Thank you for telling us everything, Mrs. Cecilia. Thank you for trusting us. I swear, I'll put this man in jail for good."

".. You really don't have to go that far-"

"He attempted a murder. It is more reason enough, and if it isn't, I'll take it up to Lady Furina herself if need be."

Cecilia suddenly stopped hiccuping and sniffling, and instead sent a wary look towards Esther.

"... You would actually go up against the Archon of Fontaine? I don't believe you."

She could only reply with a shrug and a hum. "I would do just about anything so I could make sure my beloved wouldn't cry like you did."

(Little did she know. Archons, little did she know.)

"Is she alright?" Asked Heizou, appropriate concern clearly in his voice. He did not want to intrude in her private space, much less be in between them while they talked - he respected whatever it was that women shared, in this odd, unexplainable way.

To his question, Esther sighed. "As alright as any girl could be."

She watched him drop his hand from his chin, and then take out a book from the shelves in Cecilia's living room. It looked like it had a leather cover, some sort of diary, perhaps? Whatever it was, it had Heizou's eyes trained on it, so it was probably something worth investigating.

From what they both knew, his name was Antoine Martin — Esther thought he'd have a very typical name, and that he wouldn't be a popular face, and she was damn right — and he worked as a bellboy in Hotel Blanche. Again, an irrelevant guy. He was described as an artificial-blonde man with a goatee, and wore these obnoxious glasses (her words, not Cecilia's), and had always been too forward in the things he did.

She wondered how exactly someone like him caught the gentle Cecilia's eyes.

Heizou clicked his tongue when he read the content of the book, snapping her out of her rather villainous thoughts.

"What's wrong?" She asked, worry dripping slowly into her tone. He quickly looked up at her, realizing he had alerted her, and shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong, my love," he sheepishly smiled, but there was a strain to it, "just... Have a look at this."

She does. She walked up right next to him, and peeked at what he had been scanning.

Huh.

"There's no way he's this stupid, right? He had Cecilia fooled... For years? And he wrote all these down?"

Heizou could only laugh at her dumbfounded expression, he too in disbelief. "Oh, but sweetheart..." He nuzzled his face into her hair, sighing in her scent and trying his best to contain his giddyness, as a 'treasure chest' opened before his very eyes. "This would be just the beginning to a whole lot of surprises."

After all, that man foolishly believed that his pretty flower would just wilt after drinking that water.

A trial was held as soon as their investigation came to an end, as per Heizou's clever plan.

Esther would argue, and say she was definitely as smart as he was, but when met with emotions — the feeling of vengeance creeping up on her skin when she faced Antoine's cheating ass — she had to admit that Heizou was ultimately the better one between them... At least, for now.

She was proud of him, too, but let's not stroke his ego this early. ♡

Lady Furina took her place in court, with a frown upon her usually arrogant face. Anyone would agree that she was furious, this Archon who enjoyed drama, performances, and twists. After all, one of her own people had committed a serious offense — not only did he attempt a murder by using the Primordial Sea's water, which had been forbidden ever since the case with Vacher, he had also been in touch with the people who formerly worked with Varcher, buying them constantly to get away with more crimes.

The Chief Justice's voice boomed in court as he listed down his wrongdoings: serial murders of other Fontainians, attempted murder, theft, kidnap, assault, so on and so forth. Many lives were affected by one man alone.

A twisted kind of hatred bubbled inside Esther as she smiled sickeningly sweet, and Heizou held her hand tight. Not that she needed any comforting, really...

Mrs. Cecilia was about to request a divorce, too, under the circumstances, before the defense attorney interrupted.

"Your Honor, if I may, my client is not guilty. If it was true that a slight altercation broke out between the couple, and if Mr. Antoine had truly hurt Mrs. Cecilia, where is the proof?" He had said, this defense attorney. "As far as medical records show, there had been no bruising, nor notable injuries on her body. Could we really say that Mr. Antoine had wrecked his own household, if Mrs. Cecilia had intended to make it seem as if it was only him to blame?"

At that moment, all hell broke loose.

A lovely, little songbird hid into the nest it made in a furious, lion's mane.

[ To Whom This May Concern. ]

This small piece today will cover a lot of heavy topics, so I'm sorry to all readers that would feel uncomfortable by reading this. At the very least, please be aware of the people around you, and cherish those you truly love.

First of all, I'd like to extend my sincerest apologies to my client for the events that had unfolded yesterday. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, you deserve so much better than three years of nothingness with a lowlife like that. May you find peace wherever you go now, and a support group who could treat you with the care and respect that was overdue.

Secondly, I genuinely cannot find the words to express how disgusted I am with the way this commission had been treated. It had affected many lives, and yet, so many see this as another tale to tell. Excuse my language, but can you not comprehend the horrors of which my client and the victims had to go through? If you want to talk about beauty, and how every real story is a beauty in literature, I get it, but please keep it to yourselves.

Those who are struggling with marital problems, and need to reach out to someone, please do not hesitate to come forward. If no one else, I would be willing to help. Stay safe.

- Esther.

© faesther . Do not repost, rework, or translate any of my works.

Astro Attorney Bias Game.

[whattheabcxyz]

2023-05-22

Health

Singapore: More seniors undergoing major surgery as population ages - 1 of them is 94!!!

Recalled contaminated eye drops linked to bacteria have led to a 4th death, CDC says - “The CDC and the FDA in February warned patients and clinicians to stop using EzriCare or Delsam Pharma’s Artificial Tears products after one death from an infection and reactions in dozens of patients, some who experienced permanent eye loss.”

Transport

Singapore: Shortage of drivers pushes ComfortDelGro to end 4 school bus contracts by this June

Singapore: ERP rates at 7 locations to be reduced by $1 for June school holidays

Singapore: SMRT to roll out video analytics system on Bukit Panjang LRT before Q3 this year - it will alert staff whenever a person is on the tracks

Environment

Experts call for uniform air quality indicator (AQI) in ASEAN ahead of transboundary talks in Singapore - our government will probably be against it as it will allow others to realise how polluted & $hitty our air really is

Nature

Black panther dies after being hit by car in Malaysia - didn’t know Malaysia still had black panthers!

Singapore

^ Army commando helps elderly woman after she falls off her bicycle - I’m not sure why people are making such a big deal out of this; this sort of behaviour should be expected of everyone on this planet (unless they’re a monster)

Wife of interior designer who went MIA, leaving customers in the lurch, claims she has made a missing persons report

Company apologises after employee asks man to pay $6.50 for coffee he had at job interview - so that’s how they make money!!!

155 hectares of skyrise greenery up as Singapore closes in on Green Plan target of 200 hectares - is this our hypocritical government’s way of compensating for the numerous forests they have razed here over the years (& continue to raze)?!

Delta Sport Centre reopens with bigger gym, new futsal courts, & more badminton courts

Man to be charged over misappropriation of funds & theft of luxury watches worth $1.6m

15 years’ jail for 86-year-old man who hacked ex-partner to death for not giving him bigger room - he had been abusive to her decades ago before she finally left him; she later allowed him to move back in, which is when he killed her

Lee Hsien Loong tests positive for COVID-19 for 1st time

More family offices setting up base here, above pre-pandemic numbers

Food

Singapore: Diner horrified after spotting “medium-sized” rat at AMK Vietnamese baguette stall

JB faces cook shortage with many preferring to work in Singapore instead

[centrevillesentinel]

CDC Eyedrop Recall

The CDC has issued a recall on several brands of eye drops after 68 cases of blindness and three deaths. Many of the blind had to undergo surgery to remove the eye to prevent the spread of infection. Several different brands were recalled, the major brand being Ezri Artificial Tears. The FDA told customers that they should stop purchasing the products as of February 2nd. Other recalled brands…

[worldspotlightnews]

Drug-resistant bacteria linked to recalled eye drops costs fire captain sight in one eye

3 deaths linked to recalled eye drops Three deaths linked to recalled eye drops 02:09 Three people have died and eight others have lost their vision as a result of drug-resistant bacteria infections linked to recalled eye drops, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The CDC is warning against using EzriCare and Delsam Pharma artificial tears, which have been recalled due…

[sagunista]

eye drops • artificial tears • consumer goods recalls • bacteria topping search engines

http://dlvr.it/SlKl5Q