#case reports in Medicine

[literaturepublishersjournal]

Medicine Journal of Case Reports: Imaging in Medicine is a peer-reviewed journal established for ensuring the rights and benefits of Medicine specialists. Medicine Journal of Case Reports: Imaging in Medicine is devoted to the promotion of health sciences and related disciplines.

Manuscript Submission

Authors may submit their manuscripts through the journal's online submission portal: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/submit.html

(or) Send an e-mail attachment to the Editorial Office E-mail Id: [email protected]

#case reports in Medicine #case reports journal in Medicine #journal of Medicine case reports #journals publishing Medicine case reports #journals accepting Medicine case reports #where to submit or publish Medicine case reports #imaging journal in Medicine

[izvmimi]

so the funny thing about radiology as a specialty especially in the training is because you're doing outright diagnosis and constantly generating reports, you can much more quickly get very like blatant and obvious feedback if your attendings think you're an idiot cuz you can get a flat out WRONG on your report so the day after every shift i check all of my previous reports from the night before to see if the attending and i are in agreement and like it's kind of incredible cuz my heart races like i'm taking a fucking exam every time and i'm like a grown adult lmfaooooooooooo

i will say unlike getting a d on an exam, the outcome can be like... death so it makes sense for me to be stressed but man oh man

#the nice thing tho #is that now that i'm at the end of my training #the attendings just mostly agree #and rarely modify my reports #and it's honestly really nice to see #like i'm ready for independent practice basically which is so so nice #and i can actually disagree on a diagnosis with good standing #or sometimes my attendings will be confused on a case and ask ME for help and that's such a good feeling #mimi medicine

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

Reminder that Palestinians in Gaza are being deliberately starved by Israel. Families in gaza are boiling plant leaves and eating them. They're also eating animals and birds food to stay alive. There are reported cases of kids and infants who died out of hunger and/ or cold. Starving people is part of genocide too. Remember how fast medicine was provided for the Israeli hostages, while Palestinians are starving for food and water and getting operations and amputations performed with no medication or anesthesia whatsoever.

#now before anyone says anything i think it's important that hostages get their medicine but i also think Palestinians should too #israel is fully capable of providing medication and food but chooses not to and that's what I'm talking about #palestine #gaza #israel #important #current events #free palestine #ethnic cleansing #free gaza #gaza strip #gaza under attack

[literaturepublishers22]

Case Reports in Medicine Journal

Journal Publishes Case Reports in Medicine encourages publication of Case Reports in Medicine for physicians and medical aspirants to share different results in the form of clinical image articles and Case Reports in Medicine, which have been encountered in different medical sub-specialties or cases which leads to a higher understanding of the medical conditions, medicines, diagnosis and management.

Journal Homepage: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/

Case Reports in Medicine is a peer-reviewed, Open Access journal that publishes case reports and case series in all areas of clinical medicine. Case Reports in Medicine Journal is a continually updated, evidence based review journal covering internal medicine and its subspecialties. Case Reports in Medicine Journal is an authoritative and comprehensive resource that provides all clinicians, irrespective of specialty, with ready access to up-to-date information on mechanisms of disease, diagnosis and management so that patient care may be optimized.

Case Reports in Medicine Journal covers internal medicine and its sub-specialties, in addition to clinical topics such as poisoning, nutrition, ethics, communication skills, and clinical pharmacology. Irrespective of your medical specialty, Case Reports in Medicine Journal provides you with access to trusted information on mechanisms of disease, diagnosis and management options. With the core information provided in this singular resource, you can focus on being a confident and competent physician. Case Reports in Medicine Journal is a continually updated, evidence-based learning resource for trainees.

Manuscript Submission

Authors may submit their manuscripts through the journal's online submission portal: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/submit.html

(or) Send an e-mail attachment to the Editorial Office E-mail Id: [email protected]

#Case Reports in Medicine Journal #news #health #publisher

[literaturepublisher23]

Case Reports in Medicine Journal

Case Reports in Medicine Journal encourages publication of Case Reports in Medicine for physicians and medical aspirants to share different results in the form of clinical image articles and Case Reports in Medicine, which have been encountered in different medical sub-specialties or cases which leads to a higher understanding of the medical conditions, medicines, diagnosis and management.

Journal Homepage: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/

Case Reports in Medicine is a peer-reviewed, Open Access journal that publishes case reports and case series in all areas of clinical medicine. Case Reports in Medicine Journal is a continually updated, evidence based review journal covering internal medicine and its subspecialties. Case Reports in Medicine Journal is an authoritative and comprehensive resource that provides all clinicians, irrespective of specialty, with ready access to up-to-date information on mechanisms of disease, diagnosis and management so that patient care may be optimized.

Case Reports in Medicine Journal covers internal medicine and its sub-specialties, in addition to clinical topics such as poisoning, nutrition, ethics, communication skills, and clinical pharmacology. Irrespective of your medical specialty, Case Reports in Medicine Journal provides you with access to trusted information on mechanisms of disease, diagnosis and management options. With the core information provided in this singular resource, you can focus on being a confident and competent physician. Case Reports in Medicine Journal is a continually updated, evidence-based learning resource for trainees.

Manuscript Submission

Authors may submit their manuscripts through the journal's online submission portal: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/submit.html

(or) Send an e-mail attachment to the Editorial Office E-mail Id: [email protected]

#Case Reports in Medicine Journal #news #health #publisher

[cambridgepublishers]

Case Report Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine publishes imaging in Cardiovascular Medicine, case reports in Cardiovascular Medicine, videos in Cardiovascular Medicine case reports journal etc. This is further assessment and peer-reviewed by the editors of Cardiovascular Medicine Journal.

#Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine #Case Reports in Cardiovascular Medicine #Case Report Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine #case reports in Cardiovascular #Medicine images #Cardiovascular Medicine images

[marlahey]

We can fix it. Astley Cooper performed the surgery 40 years ago. I read the case report. He killed the patient. I know. I know, but medicine's changed. We changed it. Belle, there is a reason why the best surgeon in the century failed. Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Maia Mitchell The Artful Dodger (2023–) 1.08: "Untapped Potential"

#the artful dodger #jack dawkins #jack x belle #belle fox #dodgerfox #mine: gifs #okay I'm done for the day I just really wanted to gif this scene #it's so beautifully lit and painfully well-acted #these two are really ruining my life rn

[juniperpublisherscasestudies]

An Uncommon Localization of a Hydatid Cyst Presenting with Pulmonary Embolism

Abstract

Human echinococcosis is an important infection in undeveloped and developing countries, caused by larval forms of the genus Echinococcus. In western countries this disease is sporadic. The organs mostly involved by the cysts are the liver (70%) and the lungs (20%) [1]. Cardiac hydatid cyst is a rare condition, and the location of a hydatid cyst in the interventricular septum is exceptional. Cardiac echinococcosis is not frequent, only 0.01%-2% of all hydatid infestations [2]. The left ventricle is the heart chamber most frequently involved (55-60%) and the involvement of the interventricular septum is reported in 4% of cardiac cases. Chest pain, palpitations, and dyspnea are the most frequent symptoms associated with cardiac echinococcosis. We describe a case of an unusual presentation of this disease.

Read More about this Article: https://juniperpublishers.com/jojcs/JOJCS.MS.ID.555847.php

Read More Juniper Publishers Google Scholar: https://scholar.google.com/citations?view_op=view_citation&hl=en&user=rp_7-igAAAAJ&citation_for_view=rp_7-igAAAAJ:hqOjcs7Dif8C

#juniper publishers publons #Juniper Publishers Google Scholar #Surgical case reports #medicine neurosurgery #Ectopic scar pregnancy

[literaturepublishersjournal]

Case Reports in Clinical Medicine Journal and Images

Case Reports in Clinical Medicine Journal and Images accepting Clinical Medicine articles, journal of Clinical Medicine case reports, journal publishing Clinical Medicine case reports, images in Clinical Medicine journal, image journal in Clinical Medicine, journal of Clinical Medicine images etc. Case Reports in Clinical Medicine Journal and Images is an International, open access journal which considers case reports in all areas of clinical medicine which advance general medical knowledge. Of particular but not exclusive interest are case reports in the areas of arthritis and musculoskeletal disorders, cardiology, circulatory, respiratory and pulmonary medicine, dermatology, ear, nose and throat and otolaryngology, endocrinology, ethics, health services and epidemiology, gastroenterology, geriatrics, obstetrics and gynaecology, reproduction, women’s health, oncology, pathology, psychiatry, neurology, psychology, and trauma and intensive medicine.

Journal Homepage: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/

Case Reports in Clinical Medicine Journal and Images: Visual images are a rich source of the information we use in clinical medicine, yet we expend little effort to enhance our perception and recognition of these images. A new feature introduced in this issue of the Journal, Case Reports in Clinical Medicine Journal and Images, will present a broad representation of useful and clinically important visual images. We believe that exposure to these photographs will help sharpen the reader's ability to identify common forms. As doctors we encounter an enormous variety of images from day to day, including skin lesions, funduscopic views, blood smears, bone marrow smears, urine sediments, microbiologic specimens, joint etc.

Manuscript Submission

Authors may submit their manuscripts through the journal's online submission portal: https://www.literaturepublishers.org/submit.html

(or) Send an e-mail attachment to the Editorial Office E-mail Id: [email protected]

#Case Reports in Clinical Medicine Journal and Images #clinical images #video journal

[lifewithchronicpain]

Physicians are using excuses to intentionally dissuade people with disabilities from their practices, researchers say in a new study exposing just how pervasive discrimination against this population is in health care.

In focus groups, doctors described making strategic choices to turn away individuals with disabilities. They reported telling patients with disabilities that they would require specialized care and that “I am not the doctor for you.” In other cases, physicians said they simply indicate that “I am not taking new patients” or “I do not take your insurance.”

The findings come from a study published this month in the journal Health Affairs. It is based on focus groups conducted in late 2018 by researchers at the Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, the University of Massachusetts and Harvard Medical School with 22 primary care and specialist doctors who were selected from a national database.

Many of the participants described accommodating people with disabilities as burdensome and some used outdated language like “mentally retarded.” Doctors frequently indicated that individuals with disabilities account for a small number of patients, making it hard to justify having accessible equipment. They also had little knowledge of their obligations under the Americans with Disabilities Act, with one suggesting that the law works “against physicians.”

The latest study builds on findings published earlier this year from a survey of 714 doctors that was done by some of the same researchers. Just 56% of physicians who participated in the survey said they welcome people with disabilities at their practices and only 41% indicated that they could provide such patients with a similar quality of care to others. Meanwhile, more than a third of doctors queried said they had little or no knowledge of their legal obligations under the ADA.

“Taken together, the focus groups and survey responses provide a substantive and deeply concerning picture of physicians’ attitudes and behaviors relating to care for people with disabilities,” the study authors note.

The findings suggest that bias continues to greatly influence health care more than 30 years after passage of the ADA, which prohibits discrimination against people with disabilities, including in medical services.

Tara Lagu, a professor of hospital medicine and medical social sciences at Northwestern University and an author of the study, described the doctors’ attitudes toward the ADA in particular as “upsetting and disappointing.”

“Our body of work suggests that physician bias and discriminatory attitudes may contribute to the health disparities that people with disabilities experience,” Lagu said. “We need to address the attitudes and behavior that perpetuate the unequal access experienced by our most vulnerable patients.”

#disability #ableism #americans with disabilities act #medical bias #article

[feminist-space]

"Seminario cited the recent report, “Employer-Reported Workplace Injuries and Illnesses,” that shows that the number of respiratory illnesses in the private health care and social assistance sector increased from 145,300 in 2021 to 199,700 cases in 2022, an increase of 37.5 percent.

...

As an industrial hygienist, Seminario was extremely critical that there were no experts in respiratory protection on the committee nor did it include engineers who developed ventilation guidelines. She believes that the HICPAC committee members are likely so opposed to respirators “because once you are into recommending respiratory protection, with that comes a full respiratory protection program from OSHA,” with penalties for violations.

An epidemiologist and consultant, Michael Olesen, echoed this, believing the changes reflect “pressure to remove liability from hospitals.” He added, “I take a very clear position that we should be having respiratory protection mandates in all healthcare settings right now.”

...

Many patients who spoke at the HICPAC meetings said they had gotten Covid-19 when they went to the hospital and that the new policies were keeping them from getting care.

Given that, Dr. Art Caplan, professor of medical ethics at New York University’s Grossman School of Medicine, previously told me that dropping masking requirements in hospitals is “utterly, completely, irresponsible.” Similarly, staff refusing to mask, even when a patient requests it, is a moral failure. “The first principle is, you must do what is in the best interest of your patient,” he said.

...

Several people were asked why they believe HICPAC is determined to water down protections. Consistently, respondents say, “to reduce liability.” Earlier in the pandemic, hospitals regularly tested patients and staff for Covid-19, and you could often tell where and how you became infected. Since staff are no longer masking and continue working when ill, and patients are not being tested on admission, you can no longer prove who infected you. Hospitals are the only ones who win in this scenario, absolving themselves of responsibility and liability."

#healthcare system complicity #this is immoral and unethical #cdc #hicpac #wear a mask #keep masks in healthcare #covid #rsv #flu #masks #respirators #n95 masks

[batmanshole]

sooo sick of ablebodied neurodivergent / mental health advocacy that throws physically disabled people under the bus.

if someone is being ableist to you or shaming you for your mental health and you respond by telling them they wouldn't say that to a physically disabled person, you have 0 idea how ableism works.

"you wouldn't tell wheelchair user to just walk!" yes they would.

"you wouldn't tell someone with a cane to just go gluten free / vegan / etc!" yes they would.

"you wouldn't tell someone with chronic pain to just suck it up!" yes they would.

"you wouldn't say that to someone with dwarfism!" yes they would.

"you wouldn't tell a blind person they're faking!" yes they would.

"you wouldn't-" yes. they. would.

by doing this you are treating physically disabled people like our problems with ableism aren't real or aren't taken seriously. you are using us as a talking point without caring about us. you are making it clear that you don't understand how ableism affects us and that you don't care to learn.

this is not "lateral ableism" you are straight up punching down. you as an ablebodied¹ person have privilege over physically disabled people.

if you feel like saying "but physically disabled people can oppress neurodivergent people too!" true! but that's not an excuse for your behaviour. also, disabled people are 4.6 times more likely to experience frequent mental distress than abled people.² so a lot of the time it's not that they're opressing you. it is that you can't conceive of physically disabled people also being mentally ill.

¹ obviously there are cases where conditions affect both the brain and body (ie. very high support needs autism), and the line is not always clear in these cases, but these people are not the people perpetuating this problem, nor are they the ones i'm talking about in this post.

²Cree, Robyn A, et al. “Frequent Mental Distress among Adults, by Disability Status, Disability Type, and Selected Characteristics - United States, 2018.” MMWR. Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, U.S. National Library of Medicine, 11 Sept. 2020, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7499832/

#cripple punk #disability #neurodiversity #ok 2 reblog. smiles at you.

[carolmunson]

always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 

thanks for reading. <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

[taylorswiftbutsimp]

✭Run For Your Husband

Author’s Note: Happy 300 Followers (l’m so happy and i yapped to much here)😭🫶🫶 ✨ this my little thank you gift!!

Summary: Being an outworlder in a foreign nation requires hard work. Fortunately for you, a little twist of fate takes you back to the right path.

Oneshot

WordCount: 3080

Warnings⚠️: Reader is mentioned female, Reader ran-away from a arranged marriage, noble reader, reader lies about her identity, reader is a healer, Dan feng is low-key sick and twisted same goes for reader, Mentions of injuries,wound, past life a little lore of the high cloud quintet (spoilers from 1.2 -3) the trailblazer is stelle, timesskips!! Yandere dan feng at the end??

Heels clicking through the floor, working with the alchemy commission, was tiring, especially now being assigned as a healer. It was back and fort Marastrucken soldiers and injuries there.

Tending the wounds of the great jing yuan who has been recruited by the sword champion jing liu despite not knowing this people and being a ran away from your homeland it was good to know a few history there to not look like a clueless foreigner.

It was not your business to listen to the conversation of the imbibitor Lunae, and Jing Yuan You. was merely ministering to his wounds.

"Have you heard from your missing bride?" Jing Yuan queried the azure dragon, who was seated across the chair drinking tea.

"No, and I have no idea what she looks like" said the dragon in an uninteresting voice.

How was Dan Feng going to know you? When he asked the family what he could do to help, they declined and vowed to bring you to him once they found you.

"In that case, how did you manage to get tied into a marriage without knowing how your future wife looks like?" Jing Yuan puzzled about his friend's dilemma.

"She did not like portraits of herself and often hid away from the world that was the only report i received" said the high elder.

What a bomber, you believed a gorgeous man like the imbibitor Lunae should find another woman to marry.

However, you could only keep your reactions to yourself. His situation was similar to yours, and the minute your father announced your upcoming marriage, you took the chance and fled away.

Being someone's wife was never your interest; medicine was, and you're not going to give that up for a man who is probably an old man with five children around your age.

Snickering at the thought and making a disgusted expression, you failed to notice that Jing Yuan had reached your side and was asking for your opinion. "What about you, young lady? Do you care to say a few words about the situation?"

Gulping slightly, you wrapped up the last touch of his wound before responding, "I don't think it's worth it. The bride ran away; isn't it a hint not to take a chance?"

surprisingly, the two men could only hum in response as you excused yourself.

Strange that you thought the bride reminded you so much of yourself, not liking illustrations and staying to yourself. presuming many people feel that way.

——

"Oh, imbibitor lunae, what could I do to help you today?" You questioned, taking your focus from the therapeutic herbs you were crushing.

"Jinwen informed me you have the medication I asked for a few days ago" the dragon said before gazing at the books on your table.

"Just a moment, I'll find them!!"Running at the medical storage inspecting the label, making sure to offer the medicine that was specifically asked for

Dan Feng wasn't a curious person, but you left your notebook open at the table with a research about medicine and hypothesis, he couldn't help but help and skim a few lines.

Hearing your footsteps, he closes the notebook and looks down into the corridor where you were walking as if nothing had happened.

——

Dan Feng remained quiet, but Jing Liu was thinking a different kind of silence. "Is this about your bride, Imbibitor Lunae? It's no wonder why you're skills are imprecise today."

The azure dragon snapped out of his thoughts. In truth, he was seeing you about more than he should, in the garden, the tea house, even the seat of divine foresight, but he didn't have the the courage to approach you.

Dan Feng sighs, "It's complicated" perhaps he should let go of the bride situation and the little infatuation at the healer lady you.

Jing Liu doubts her long-time friend, but she lets it go because he will talk when he is ready.

You were persistent in working, even organized, and giving everyone around you the same energy they gave you.

You were something the high elder looked at into the way your eyes would brighten when seeing herbs planted on the sidewalks, picking some and making good use of it.

Maybe he should ask you for a tea chat every now and again.

——

The scalegorge waterscape is gorgeous, and anyone would be honored to live here. The palace is well-designed, and the plant life are well-cared for.

“I hope i did not keep you waiting miss (name)”

“Noo thank you for inviting me over your highness-“

"Dan Feng is fine, I think we’re pass that" the dragon chuckles, sitting down and pouring tea into your cup first.

"Is there a reason you called for me? I hope I'm not in trouble."

Dan Feng smiles, his hands now resting on his lap, admiring your facial features. "A few weeks ago, I read into your notebook about medicines. I know it's not appropriate to read into someone else's work, but I'm interested in yours."

A tiny flush forming in your cheeks, trying to conceal it by drinking tea,not used to compliments.

“It's okay, I did leave the notebook open. Thank you for the compliment.” 

“Such knowledge of yours is quite advanced; it can even help people in medicine say, How did you get here in Xiaozhou? I hope I'm not overstepping.” 

"I ran away from home considering the pressure was too much" quick and easy you thought if spilling even a little could get you in trouble and you don't want that.

Not after you found a home on an odd planet.

——

Weeks pass, and you find yourself becoming closer to the high elder, even inviting you to dinner with the quintet. They treated you like one of them.

Life was finally getting better, and you would never trade it for anything.

Not until Dan Feng proclaimed his love to you in the moonlight.

In truth, he was attractive and strong, but you were still running from your problem. Who knew how little freedom you had left, so you had to do what was best.

Reject his confession politely.

“I'm sorry, Dan Feng. You are perfect in every aspect, but I'm not looking for a relationship.” 

“I see apologise for wasting your time (name)”

That was days ago, and a small part of you felt like an idiot. The alchemy commission was quiet without the quintet's presence, especially Dan Feng inviting you out for a short break.

Even the group had not passed by, reminding you that the only friends you made here at the luofu were the quintet and Jinwen.

That said, Jinwen had a life; she was like a coworker buddy, even though she was busy.

Was this it you thought, once again finding yourself alone. Was the running worthwhile if the cycle repeated itself?

No, you can't let the past bind you. You got here for a fresh start. You're smart and can work anywhere. Everything can begin again. 

Soon, you find yourself filling out a resignation letter that was approved the same day you handed over the paper. You didn't have anyone to say goodbye, so the walk back home was chilly.

Not sure what your next destination is, perhaps becoming a galactic ranger and traveling around the cosmos is precisely what you sought.

Besides, you're certain that the group was purposefully avoiding you for Dan Feng's sake. They knew him longer, so it would make sense.

——

Your feet were aching, cursing yourself for investing in high heels, seeking a big crowd to distract your handmaid. Why was she here at the luofu? Did they manage to hunt you down?

Bumping into people and mumbling innumerable sorrys, you needed to leave, and you were convinced she was chasing you.

At the time you started praying to any aeons above to have lost her and wished you were just hallucinating due to lack of sleep and weariness, yet she yelled your name, which was enough to confirm that this was not a dream.

Bumping into a strong chest almost knocking you out ready to leave, but just as you looked up, there was Dan Feng.

Majestic as the day you rejected him.

"are you alright (Name)?” With a tight hold on your wrist and little time to speak, you hauled him down the narrow passageway in the hopes of losing the person you were fleeing from.

“I think someone was chasing me” you panted trying to catch your breath Dan Feng is drawn by your flausturized appearance, and you seem to have a hold on his heart despite rejecting him.

Tucking in the loose hair that was in the way of your vision, he caresses your cheek while gazing deeply into your eyes and seeing the slight bags under them. You must have been working too hard on yourself.

"Come with me, and I'll help you hide" Dan Feng says, holding you close to him, frightened to let go. Perhaps it was exhaustion working in you, but you inwardly nodded in response.

He brought you to Scalegorge, and instead of taking the stairs, he carried you in his arms. It was exceedingly intimate, and it was the closest you had ever been to anyone.

It was beyond midnight, and there wasn't a single soul in sight. figured everyone was still at the festival celebrating. You felt tired, and his touch was delicate, holding you like fine china.

A rush of guilt comes into your head for rejecting Dan Feng, who is an embodiment of perfection.

You couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge you love him. How can you love him? You lied to him from the start, and your past will only bring bad luck to him.

"You should stay the night, you look tired" he says, feeling the vibrations in his torso. You replied in a high pitched tone, "Why?"

“What do you mean, why? I care for my friend.” 

The fact that he spoke with such elegance cracked a small portion of your heart, especially how he emphasized the term friend.

"I rejected you how can you be so calm hate me atleast for a little" going straight to the point as always

Dan Feng was silent, savoring how you fit perfectly in his arms.

Entering the palace with a few guards opening the door for him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck was embarrassing.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're okay!! Thank you so much, Dan Feng." Color drained from your face, all too familiar who that voice belongs to.

Dan Feng lets you go, helping you stand on your own barefoot on the cold tiles. On the other hand, holding your pair of heels, why was your mother here?

"My sweet girl, you got us worried” your mother says, checking you for any injuries before embracing you.

She choked in her own tears while you saw your father standing in between you couldn't really read what look he gave but you knew it wasn't a pleasant one "you kept us worried why would you run like that" harsh as ever, it could compete with the cold season

You froze, letting your mother coddle you, standing like a statue for minutes, unable to grasp why they were here or why they were thanking Dan Feng.

"I'm sorry to ruin your reunion (mother's name), but my bride is quiet tired from today's event and deserves a rest" Dan Feng said sweetly, but it felt phony.

He dragged you gently inside the chamber, and you couldn't process anything because your entire body went numb and frozen. "My love?"

"What have you done?" Your voice cracks as he shuts the door behind him and approaches your form. "My darling, I did what was best for us."

A shiver raced down your spine as he pecked your forehead, one hand roaming around your waist, the other crawling at the back, making its way to your chin, tilting it facing him. "I gave you freedom and wanted to court you in my way, but what did you do, beloved?"

"You broke my heart for the second time" he looked weak for a while before snapping again, making you step back. "You have no idea how pained I was when I heard my lovely wife ran away"

“Dan feng-“

“Shut it" he chuckles sadistically, "till you made a mistake and left your silly notebook on a table. Guess fate ran its course."

The man you once knew was long gone. Was it all a facade to put on a show? It makes you question how many people were involved in his small production.

"I never expected you to reject me like that, so I had to pull a few strings" he stated, placing his forehead against yours and tightly grasping your body. "Leaving your notebook with your name, all I had to do was a background check."

"Don't worry, wife, I'll take good care of you" drawing away and sheepishly grinned, your body and mind not expecting such a thing to happen, not even noticing a few tears were slipping down.

You couldn't do anything, you wept, and even if you ran now, it would be too late since he had too many connections and would hunt you at the end of the universe, which you knew all too well.

"Shh, don't cry. Being a galaxy ranger wouldn't fit you." That night, he comforted your cries and held you in his arms.

Mumbling pleasing phrases at your ears about how he'd keep you spoilt and secure if you just sat still and followed the rules.

——

Dan heng wakes up feverish and dehydrated, even after decades, his past will always find a way to follow his present.

He sighed for the nth time, the same dream every night, and each night became clearer, was his ancestor's sin, and being banned from the luofu was not enough to keep him bound even now.

A gentle knock on his door jolts him out of his reverie: "Dan Heng, are you all right? I'm coming in!" A recognizable voice spoke from the other side.

Sliding the door open, you discover Dan Heng sitting up on the floor, referring to bed: "I heard some noises, March and Stelle, and I just returned from a quick journey; I have a lot of information to give at the data bank!!" You cheerfully said.

"Dan heng, is there something wrong?" Asking with concern when you didn't get a response.

Putting your hand into his forehead to check if Dan Heng had a fever, typically he would not allow you do this, but he seemed like he saw a demonic being.

"I'm fine, just a dream" he nervously glances away, smoothing out the crease in the duvet.

Dan Heng prefers everything to himself, but since you came and introduced yourself as a prior researcher from genius society that Himeko knew he couldn't pinpoint why he gets sluggish.

In fact, March teases him that when it comes to you, Dan Heng can't say no "Maybe it's a good idea you didn't come to this expedition, and your room is sealed, not just that you sleep on the floor."

Scolding the ravennette in front of you recently joining the nameless, the first person you became close with was Dan Heng, undoubtedly you cared for him after all, you two had the same interest the data bank.

Dan heng chuckles at your scolding, reminding him of an angry cat hissing, and then it hit him you looked familiar in this light, your farrowed brows with a slight tint of flush; he had never seen you up close and took his time appreciating your features.

You looked like the woman in his dreams.

——

"What happened? You guys looked like you saw a criminal" you asked, moving around the room looking for a hint of their faces. "We did see a criminal" march murmurs.

You look at himeko expecting she would answer the issues tormenting the mind "stellaron hunter kafka has showed up" himeko responded her guard was still up and you can hear the hesitancy in her voice a hologram of kafka and blade shows up.

"The xianzhou luofu is in a stellaron crisis and appears to be a few warp jumps away" she says with increased confidence.

You saw Dan Heng studying the hologram of blade. "Maybe it's best if you stay with me, Dan Heng Welt, and the others can take this mission" the navigator said, avoiding any sensitive areas for Dan Heng.

Dan Heng nods, leaving the hologram he was eyeing. "I think that would be great, himeko."

“Well i get to see Wel- Mr Yang in action” stelle let out hoping to brighten the atmosphere followed by march “Mr Yang better show us some skills!”

“(Name) what about you willing to accompany them?” Himeko asks

"Of course we can split into two if something ever happens; after all, two is better than one" you let out, matching the intensity of March.

When you see Dan Heng walking away, you quickly excuse yourself and apologize to the group. You seek him. "Dan Heng, are you okay?"

Dan heng hums in replies following him through the data bank, you knew he had a past but were hesitant to ask questions for it was probably painful to him, so you didn't bother.

“Be careful out there (name) things can get complicated”

“Awh dan heng worries about mee~” you teased

Of course, he cares for you in some way. You have a grasp on his space that he wouldn't mind if you broke. He has never truly liked the company of anyone else, but he feels weightless with you.

He watched as you joined stelle and march get ready, leaving him at the data bank. There are still more questions in his mind than answers.

he came in a conclusion when you guys left. Were you the wife of his ancestor who keeps seeking him through dreams?

You can't really blame him if he went out of the train and stepped on a luofu after losing communication with the crew.

#ᗯiᒪᒪoᗯ #dan heng x reader #dan feng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere dan heng #hsr yandere #honkai star rail x you #xianzhou luofu #goodnight😮‍💨

[cambridgepublishers]

Case Report Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine publishes imaging in Cardiovascular Medicine, case reports in Cardiovascular Medicine, videos in Cardiovascular Medicine case reports journal etc. This is further assessment and peer-reviewed by the editors of Cardiovascular Medicine Journal.

#Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine #Case Reports in Cardiovascular Medicine #Case Report Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine #case reports in Cardiovascular #Medicine images #Cardiovascular Medicine images

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

In 2017 I interviewed Bernadette Wren, then head of psychology at the Tavistock Gids clinic, and asked what effect puberty blocking drugs have on the adolescent brain. Looking highly uncomfortable, she replied that the evidence so far was only anecdotal but that the clinic would study its patients “well into their adult lives so that we can see”.

Even back then, before whistleblowers had exposed the rush to medically transition children, it was alarming to hear that heavy-duty GnRH agonists such as triptorelin — used to treat advanced prostate cancer and “chemically castrate” sex offenders — were being prescribed to arrest puberty in hundreds of children as young as 11.

Moreover, they were being used “off-label” before any clinical trials. And the long-term study Wren promised never materialised: Gids (the Gender Identity Development Service) routinely lost touch with patients, and the 44 it did follow reported little long-term mental health improvement.

This shocking chapter in medical history, where the ideological objectives of trans rights campaigners trumped the welfare of disturbed children, is coming to an end worldwide. The decision by NHS England effectively to ban the prescription of puberty blockers comes after the Cass review noted these drugs could “permanently disrupt” brain development, reduce bone density and lock children into a regime of cross-sex hormones requiring life-long patienthood.

NHS England unites with other national health services including those in Finland, France, Sweden and, most notably, the Netherlands — where the “Dutch protocol”, a regime of early blockers then hormones, was devised in 1998 — in pulling back from prescribing them.

Even in the United States, where a toxic combination of extreme activism and medical capitalism has pushed child gender medicine to grotesque extremes, with double mastectomies performed on 14-year-old girls, there is some retrenchment.

Leaks from the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the body which formulates guidance on “trans healthcare”, reveal doctors perplexed at how they should explain to an 11-year-old child that drugs will render them infertile. Crucially, liberal media such as The New York Times are now reporting grave medical misgivings about child transition, once dismissed as a culture-war issue for the Republican right.

Yet the question remains: how was this ever allowed to happen? For years, puberty blockers were cheerily billed as a mere “pause button”. In 2014, Dr Polly Carmichael, the last head of Gids before the Cass review ordered its closure, went on CBBC in a show called I Am Leo, saying of blockers: “The good thing is, if you stop the injections, it’s like pressing ‘start’ and the body carries on developing as it would if you hadn’t started.”

The BBC permitted her to make this unevidenced claim to an impressionable audience of six to 12-year-olds. Imagine hearing this as a developing girl, freaked out by your new breasts and periods. No wonder Gids referrals subsequently rocketed.

Carmichael failed to mention that she did not know if pressing “restart” on puberty is always medically possible — it is not — and in fact, almost every child Gids put on blockers went on to irreversible cross-sex hormones.

After years in a Peter Pan state while their peers developed, they understandably felt there was no way back and forged on with treatment. Yet if allowed to experience natural puberty, almost 85 per cent of gender dysphoria cases resolve themselves.

Nor did Carmichael tell CBBC kids that the blockers-hormones combination, if taken early enough, not only results in sterility but kills the libido so that a young person will never experience an orgasm.

At the 2020 judicial review brought by a former Tavistock clinician and Keira Bell, the brave young detransitioner rushed onto hormones by Gids, judges expressed astonishment at Gids’s lack of an evidence base.

Reporting on this issue for seven years, I too have been struck by a complete clinical incuriosity. Not only was data not collected, but those who queried treatments or pressed for evidence faced angry condemnation. Perhaps activists knew what research might find because one long-term Finnish study, recently reported in the BMJ, destroyed the myth used to justify blockers: that a child will commit suicide if denied them.

The Finns found that “gender-affirming care” does not make a dysphoric child less suicidal. Rather, such children had the same suicide risk as others with severe psychiatric issues. In other words, changing bodies does not fix troubled minds.

Yet even after NHS England’s announcement, activists refuse to heed the now-overwhelming evidence. In its response, Stonewall persists with the myth that puberty blockers “give a young person extra time to evaluate their next steps”.

Many questions remain unanswered: will private clinics still be permitted to prescribe puberty blockers; and is Scotland’s Sandyford child gender clinic still determined to close its ears to all evidence? Plus, we have few details on how the NHS’s new “holistic” treatment for gender-questioning children will operate when it opens next month.

This repellent experiment — in which girls who like trucks or little boys who dress as princesses, and who invariably grow up to be gay, are corralled inexorably down a road towards life-changing treatments — belongs in the book of medical disgraces. As do the cheerleaders who raised money for Mermaids and those who persecuted whistleblowers or damned journalists asking questions as transphobic.

In 50 years, chemically freezing the puberty of healthy children with troubled minds will be regarded with the same horrified fascination as lobotomies — which, never forget, won the Portuguese neurologist Antonio Egas Moniz the 1949 Nobel prize.

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#i think it's going to be a lot sooner than 50 years tbh