#(my ed got way worse and it got me to the hospital)

[tkbrokkoli]

i can start T today 🥳

[commander-damneron]

I've got no water at home and my GI tract hates me, so I am now a permanent resident of the disabled loo in the students union

[steddieas-shegoes]

four times eddie gets carried and one time he does the carrying

one

Eddie opens his eyes to chaos: a heartbeat under his ear that’s furious, a voice echoing just above him yelling profanities and directions, hands digging into his legs and side that should probably hurt.

But nothing hurts.

He can’t feel anything, actually.

Which is probably a good thing considering the last time his eyes were open, he was dying.

Maybe he is dead. Maybe this is Hell.

But he catches a somewhat familiar scent, and he turns his head towards the solid but soft wall holding him.

He must make a noise because the voice vibrating against his face stops, the movement under him stops, and a different panic ensues. He’s not sure what’s being said now, too focused on the comfort he’s feeling.

Maybe it’s not Hell. Maybe he’s found his way to Heaven.

But that’s Steve’s smell and Steve isn’t dead. Is he?

Eddie’s eyes open and he finds just enough energy to make a small noise, one that wouldn’t have been heard in the chaos, but definitely gets heard in the silence surrounding him now. He hates silence. He hopes if he’s dead, he can at least hear some music sometimes.

“Eddie?”

It’s definitely Steve’s voice, and Steve’s smell, and probably Steve’s strength holding him up.

“You don’t have to talk if it hurts, but can you tap my chest if you can hear me?”

Eddie could do that. He could.

His hand was already brushing against Steve’s chest as they walked, so he lifted a few fingers and brushed them against the material of Steve’s shirt.

“That’s good!” Steve sounded pretty thrilled about such a simple touch.

Eddie was familiar with being touch starved, but he didn’t think Steve could be this bad off with all the times he’s been practically glued to Robin.

“St-“ he tried to say his name, maybe get some answers for why he was being carried, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“It’s okay. I’m getting you safe. We can fix it,” Steve was walking still, but no other voices could be heard anymore. It was like the world had narrowed down to only them. “I promise I’m gonna fix it.”

“Mkay.”

Blackness clouded Eddie’s vision again as he lost consciousness.

two

Eddie’s physical therapy sessions in the hospital sucked, but the ones at home sucked worse.

At least at the hospital, no one was around to watch him struggle and fail except the physical therapist. At home, Steve was watching and making sure he did everything right, never more than a few feet away in case he needed help.

Eddie could walk with support, but he refused to use the stupid walker the hospital gave him. Wayne found a cane in his room from when he hurt his back a few years ago and told Eddie he could decorate it however he wanted if it meant he’d use it.

And he sure did.

He covered it in black paint, stickers, and had all the kids paint their names on it.

But he still hated using it.

So he was focusing on the walking movements the PT gave him, and Steve was constantly hovering beside him, waiting for any sign that he needed to stop.

“Your legs are shaking, Eds. We should stop for today,” Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, careful not to put any weight on him. “You can do more tomorrow.”

“No, I’m almost to the couch.”

The silence was loud as he looked ahead at where the couch actually was. He wasn’t almost there. He wouldn’t make it.

But he was stubborn, dangerously so, and he was gonna make it.

He took another two shuffling steps, then felt a shooting pain in his side and nearly collapsed.

Steve’s arms were under him immediately, lifting under his legs and supporting his back in a fucking bridal carry.

“Put me down!” Eddie squirmed, but Steve was strong. “I was almost there!”

“No you weren’t and you were gonna push yourself too hard. You would’ve fallen and got hurt and if you get hurt again, it’ll be my fault.”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut before his argument could be said.

Did Steve think he was actually responsible for Eddie?

“Stevie, it’s carpet. I would’ve been fine,” Eddie said quietly as Steve walked them over to the couch. He didn’t set Eddie down though, just held him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not letting anything happen to you again.” Steve set him down gently on the couch, making sure his legs were stretched out so he could do some of his sitting movements. “I’m not letting you down again.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t let me down,” Eddie stayed frozen where Steve had set him down, unable to even breathe properly.

“I should’ve been there so you didn’t run back to distract the bats. You never should’ve almost died.”

“Steve…” Eddie reached a hand out, tugging on Steve’s hand until he was sitting on the coffee table across from him. “None of this is your fault. I’m an adult. I made my choices. I would’ve made them even if you were there.”

“But-“

“No buts!” Eddie smiled at him, ignoring another sharp pain in his hip. “You know how stubborn I am. Do you really think you had a shot in hell of stopping me once I decided to be a distraction?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then stop blaming yourself. You saved my fuckin’ life, man. You stayed by my side nearly every day since then. You couldn’t let me down if you tried, okay?”

“Okay.”

three

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, he knew he had.

But he was currently in Steve’s bed. Which is upstairs. He hasn’t mastered walking up stairs yet.

How the fuck did he get here?

It was dark except for a hint of moonlight streaming between the curtains and a glow under the door from the hall light that was always on.

He turned on his side and nearly screamed when he saw a black outline of someone else in the bed.

The body moved and Eddie could just make out the hair.

Steve.

He was in Steve’s bed with Steve.

“You okay?” Steve’s raspy sleep voice startled him, his heart rate climbing to probably dangerous levels.

A hand reached out and touched Eddie’s chest, right over his racing heart. Steve’s hand was warm and wasn’t moving away.

“Mhm. How’d I get here?”

“Carried you.”

He couldn’t see if Steve’s eyes were open, or if he was even properly facing Eddie, but he was grateful for the dark hiding his blush.

“I could’ve stayed on the couch.”

“Wanted you here,” Steve mumbled against his pillow, his hand bunching up Eddie’s shirt as he pulled him closer. “Sleep.”

Eddie could think about it tomorrow. Or maybe never.

Maybe this was a dream, or maybe Steve was still asleep and had no idea what he was doing or saying. Maybe he’d wake up and Steve would be gone and he’d never know for sure if he dreamt it or it was real.

But for now, Eddie fell asleep with Steve’s hand against his chest and his body heat keeping him warm.

four

“I don’t know why you picked a spot so far into the woods. Are you trying to murder me? You were just being nice for the last three months because it would be easier to trick me?” Eddie paused to catch his breath. He was admittedly very out of shape, but this trek seemed particularly difficult.

“Are you in actual pain or are you just tired?” Steve asked, not slowing down at all.

“Can’t it be both?”

Steve finally stopped and turned to Eddie, the worried set of his brow almost making Eddie feel guilty.

“We can go back, Eddie,” Steve offered quietly.

Eddie saw the disappointment on his face, though. And he was a little sore, but mostly from being tired, not from actually overexerting his muscles.

“No, I can make it. How much longer?”

Steve looked around for a moment. “Less than half a mile, but most of it is uphill.”

“I’ll just take it slow. Sorry,” Eddie apologized.

“Hey,” Steve was suddenly back in front of him, hands on his arms to stop him, to comfort him. “We can go as slow as you need. We’ve got all day. Need any help?”

Eddie didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He was doing a lot better than he expected, truthfully.

But if it kept Steve’s hands on him, he was obviously going to say yes.

Steve wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him over a particularly large log.

They continued in silence, but Steve’s arm never left his waist, and Eddie’s breath never quite went back to normal.

When they were almost at Steve’s destination, Eddie lost his footing and nearly face planted into the wet soil. But Steve tugged him back just in time, until his back was flush against Steve’s front.

“Let me help,” Steve said against his ear.

His hands went under him, lifting him up in the familiar bridal carry that seemed like second nature for them at this point.

Steve held him close, made sure he had a good grip, then started walking forward.

“You don’t have to do this,” Eddie barely whispered. He felt a bit ashamed, that he couldn’t do something so simple, that Steve felt like he had to help, that he was a nuisance.

“I want to.”

Neither of them spoke again until they reached their destination.

Steve didn’t put him down at first, walking over to a clearing that looked out over the lake.

Eddie had no idea this was even accessible to people, had only ever noticed the cliff from the edges of the lake and assumed it was just untouched wooded area.

“This is a nice view,” Eddie said as he looked around. He could see a lot of the outskirts of town, even some of the surrounding areas that were mostly untouched by the events of spring break. “Can already see some stars.”

The sun was still up, but it was near dusk. The walk back would be dark if they didn’t leave soon.

“Yeah,” Steve finally set him down on his feet, but didn’t put any space between them. “Wanted you to see it.”

Eddie watched as Steve’s hands fiddled with his sweater, a nervous habit that he noticed back when he was still in the hospital. He’d never mentioned it, wasn’t even sure Steve knew he was doing it, but he always offered his ring-covered hand as a replacement.

Maybe it was a little selfish, but Steve never seemed to mind.

As soon as Eddie slipped his hand closer to Steve, he started toying with his mood ring, a gift from Dustin when he got out of the hospital so they could tell how he was before asking. It didn’t actually work, but they all thought it was fun.

“You come out here often?”

Steve shrugged. “Not as much since Vecna. Don’t really like being alone anymore.”

“Yeah. I know what ya mean.”

They stood there in silence again, looking up at the stars and out at the vastness of rural Indiana. Steve moved on to fidgeting with another ring, spinning it and twisting it every way possible.

“Wayne asked when you’d wanna move back in with him. Said he’s settled in the new trailer and can get your room set up whenever you’re ready,” Steve finally said.

Eddie turned to look at him, noting the shakiness in his voice. He was biting his lip so much, it was a miracle he wasn’t bleeding.

Something was off.

He’d been staying with Steve because it was easy, it was best for everyone to have easy access to a bedroom and bathroom while he healed, and Steve was the only one with parents who weren’t around. Wayne was stuck in the second floor of a motel, which wasn’t ideal for Eddie at all. But now he had a new place, and Eddie could handle stairs now, and it just made sense to go home.

So why did it feel like he’d be leaving his home if he went back to Wayne?

“Do you want me to go?” Eddie asked, bracing for the ‘yes’ he was certain was coming.

“No.”

Eddie pulled back in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean no, I don’t want you to go,” Steve grabbed his hand again, tracing along the outside of his rings, making goosebumps pop up on Eddie’s arms. “I want you to stay. But I know you love Wayne and probably miss him. You should go if you want to.”

Eddie fishmouthed for a moment, unsure how to respond. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew he should probably think about this without Steve in front of him.

“And if I don’t wanna go?”

Steve searched his face for any hint of a lie, but Eddie knew he wouldn’t find one. He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay with Steve.

“Then you should stay,” Steve choked out, almost in as much shock as Eddie had been only a moment ago. “Stay. Please.”

“In the guest room?” Eddie pushed. He shouldn’t push, but he had to know if this was Steve acting out of fear of being alone or if Steve was feeling the same about Eddie as Eddie was about Steve.

“I was thinking you could stay in my room. My bed.”

Eddie smirked. Steve was a charmer, no doubt about that, but he was clearly nervous, in uncharted territory.

He leaned in, watched Steve’s eyes widen in surprise at the shift in control of the conversation.

“And if I get sharing bed privileges, does that mean I also get kissing privileges?”

Steve nodded, eyes still wide, still shocked speechless.

“Could I start that privilege now?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

Eddie had never enjoyed a privilege quite as much as this one.

+ one

“You said the front step was fixed!” Eddie screeched as they stood outside their new home. “Look at it. It’s depressed.”

Steve snorted. “It’s just a little…crooked.”

“It’s barely even attached anymore.”

Steve nudged his shoulder and held out the key. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh no, no. We had an agreement, didn’t we?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I’ve been training for this moment for over a year!”

“Throwing me around on the bed is not ‘training’, baby,” Steve smiled. “But if you really wanna do this, I’ll unlock the door.”

Eddie grinned and leaned over to pick Steve up into a bridal carry.

Steve yelped when he almost immediately dropped him, his hand fisting in Eddie’s shirt to try to keep from falling.

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” Eddie said, tightening his hold on his legs and shifting him up so that his face was level with Eddie’s. “You know what’s nice about living in the middle of nowhere?”

“What?” Steve breathed out, eyes darting down to Eddie’s lips.

“I can kiss you right here in the open and no one’s around to see it.”

“Then do it,” Steve challenged.

Eddie was always up for the challenge.

He kissed him, smiling into it as he realized this was their whole future. This house, this life, it was theirs.

Eddie carefully stepped up onto the porch, avoiding the worst of the step, and walked up to the front door.

Steve leaned over to unlock it, pushed it open, and waited.

He looked up at Eddie as Eddie stepped through the door.

“Maybe someday we can do this married,” Steve’s voice was quiet, nervous.

“You wanna marry me?” Eddie half-teased. He still couldn’t quite believe how much Steve wanted him, how much he loved him.

“I’d do it today if we could.”

“We could pretend anyway,” Eddie kissed his forehead before setting him down. “We’ve got a lot of rooms to christen.”

“Where do you wanna start?”

“The living room has a fireplace and I’ve had fantasies-“

“Fantasies? Seriously?”

Eddie tugged Steve to him by his waist, captured his lips in a heated kiss. “So many fantasies.”

Steve started walking them backwards towards the fireplace. “Show me what these fantasies looked like then.”

“You got it, big boy.”

[bellarkeselection]

Could you do a will halstead x reader where they’re engaged and she’s a detective in intelligence, she’s been having stomach pains for about a week but put it down to cramps or stress whenever someone asked especially when Will asked but then at work she collapses and when they take her to med they find out the pain was appendicitis and Will’s like why didn’t you say something before

Didn’t Want You to Worry

@annieradcliff

“Y/n, are you sure you're okay in there?” My fiancé Will asked on the other side of the door. We had both gotten dressed and ready for work, me as an intelligence detective and he an ED doc. Unfortunately I felt harsh pain hit me so I went and sat down in the bathroom waiting until they went away.

I assumed it had to be cramps or something like that. Except I didn't think my period was supposed to come for another two weeks. “I'll be fine, Will. It's just some cramps is all. If you need to go to work that's fine.”

“Okay. You know I can stay home if you want to and take care of you if you're not feeling good.” He explained through the other side of the door.

Pushing myself up off the ground I felt them disappear allowing me to open the door and give him a half smile. “Seriously it's nothing. My period is probably coming earlier or it's just stress from the long case we've been working on.”

“Okay just call me if it's gets any worse.” He leans forward planting a kiss on my forehead before he left our apartment.

Making my way to work I was simply sitting down at my desk moving through fingers files on the computer till another wave of pain shot through my body. “Ah! Son of a bitch.” I winced gripping the wood of my desk underneath my fingernails.

Voiets office door opened and Will's brother Jay came out coming over to talk to me. “It's crazy to think you're going to be Mt sister in law in a few more weeks. Hey are you alright?”

“Just some pain stomach pain today - are you bringing Hayley to the wedding?”

Jay sat down on the edge of my desk scanning his eyes over me. “Do you want me to get you some advil?”

“No, I can get it myself. I have some in my locker. I'll be right back.” Standing up from my desk chair I had managed to walk into the hallway before my eyes grew heavier and my body fell forward where I collapsed into the nearest door.

I could hear Jay holler my name, coming around the corner to see what had happened. “Y/n! Oh geez. Voiet call an ambulance.”

“Jay - I'm - okay.” I croaked out barely able to keep my eyes open.

He brushed hair out of my face seeing I was struggling to stay awake. “Just hang on, Y/n. We're gonna get you to Med.” After that I must have blacked out because the next thing I knew I was waking up in the ED, laying on one of their hospital beds.

I began looking around the room noticing that there was an iv in my left hand and the screens were popping up with all different kinds of numbers clearly reading my vitals. “Where is she. Where is she, Msggie!” I recognized Will’s voice coming down the hallway.

“She’s in here.” Maggie drew open the curtain to my room.

Will bolted inside the room rushing to my bedside. “Y/n! Oh my god I knew something was wrong this morning. Why were you trying to act like it wasn’t?” His eyes scanning over mine almost a mile a minute.

I shake my head wishing he wouldn’t worry. “Will, I just got light headed. I'm probably dehydrated. Just give me some liquids and I'll be on my way.”

“Y/n, Jay told me you collapsed st work. That isn’t something minor.” Will spat me with worry in his voice.

I huffed crossing my arms over my chest seeing the curtain move again and Dr. Manning enter the room with an iPad in her hands. “Hi Y/n, how are you feeling?”

“I'd feel a lot better it I was out of - he-ah!” I gasped holding my stomach trying to curl myself into a ball on the bed.

Will rubbed my lower back keeping his other hand on my shoulder eyeing his friend. “Nat, what's wrong with her?”

“I wish I could say it was something minor but it’s not. You are actually going to need surgery. You have something wrong with your appendix. That’s why you’ve been feeling so much pain for the past couple of weeks.”

Will sent her a look asking. “Can you give us a minute, Nat. Y/n, why didn’t you tell me sooner and just have been lying about it.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You already have enough on your plate with getting the wedding venu and everything else. I didn’t want to add onto the stress when I really believed it was my period cramps or stress myself, at least until this morning.”

Will closed the gap between us, cupping my face in his hands kissing me deeply. “I’m gonna be your husband, babe. You don’t have to keep things from me. I’m always going to be here for you.”

“Thank you, Will. I - I really appreciate you saying that to me,” I sniffed through happy tears relieved that he would be for me no matter what came our way. Our jobs in day to day life was hard enough, but we’d get through everything together. “I love you, Will Halstead.”

He smiled down at me, kissing my forehead sweetly. “I love you too, soon to be Mrs. Halstead.” I must have gotten pretty lucky to end up calling him my husband for the rest of my life.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Will Halstead (Ft Platonic! Jay Halstead): I'll Call Will 

This was supposed to be short! Why can’t I ever just write a page or two? Oh well- I like how it turned out. I have no medical knowledge and I made shit up.

This is like my People We Love story reversed regarding it being more Platonic Jay x reader than Will x reader.  

You shift and feel Jay’s eyes shoot to you. He had been eyeing you like a bomb that was about to explode since he got to your and Will’s apartment two hours ago. You were trying to ignore him and his detective's gaze, but it was starting to get irritating. “You know if you keep it up, I’m going to take your fun uncle shirt and replace it with a worry wart one.” 

“You’ve been having cramps off and on since I got here, and you don’t look like you feel good.” You roll your eyes at your brother-in-law affectionately. Shooting him an amused look from across the couch and resting your hand on your prominent baby bump. 

“It must be that glow everyone talks about. I'm almost seven months pregnant, Jay. Braxton Hicks is normal.” What you don’t want to tell him as they had been becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. You hadn’t gotten off the couch since he got here because you felt lightheaded with a side of vertigo. “I went to the OB last week for an appointment. They said everything was just fine. No problems, no restrictions.” You tell him and remind yourself.  

You were trying to take the pregnancy in stride. People had babies in fields for years but it didn’t mean you didn’t get nervous sometimes. You had never been pregnant before and didn’t know what to expect and you had learned the hard way that Will was not the one to ask. He was a wealth of information. Too much information. It often made your anxiety worse after talking to him rather than better. He had too many horror stories from the ED.  

Jay looked unconvinced but dropped the subject and went back to watching the trashy TV show you had turned on. The two of you watched another episode and a half with rounds of minor cramping on your part. The commercial was just ending when a cramp so painful jolted through your belly that it made you grab at it and whimper. When you blink Jay is in front of you. He looks angry but you have known him long enough to know it was actually worry clouding his features. “Okay that’s it we are going to the hospital.” 

“Jay, I don’t think-” He doesn’t even let you finish your thought. 

“You either let me take you to the hospital right now or I’ll call Will.” You search Jay’s eyes. “Your choice.” He is clearly over it and reaches for his cell. You can just imagine your husband after a call like that. He would leave work and speed home in a mad dash to get to you. You would feel so bad if he did all that for a few Braxton Hick contractions.   

“Okay! Okay, fine, let’s go.” Jay wastes no getting you to your feet and out of the apartment steering you to his car. “Just what the world needed another Doctor Halstead, Will will be so proud.” You tell him before Jay rolls his eyes and closes the car door. 

You sit in the hospital bed waiting for the OB to come back.  Your doctor was out today and the woman that came in was all warm smiles and a reassuring tone. She must have been new because you didn’t recognize her or her name. “It looks like the cramping is just Braxton Hicks. It’s completely normal and nothing to worry about.” You looked over at Jay who had been lurking near the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“What? It was better to get you checked out just in case.” Jay’s tone is defensive, and you roll your eyes lovingly at your brother-in-law. The OB smiled at him and patted him comfortingly on the arm. 

“It is a good thing that he brought you in.” You look at the woman in surprise because her tone goes serious. “Your blood pressure is much higher than I would like. Have you been under more stress than normal lately?” You sigh as you begrudgingly tell her about your increased workload. “Have you been feeling more fatigued than normal? Lightheaded, dizzy, or any vertigo?”  

“I’m almost seven months pregnant, isn’t feeling off kind of normal?” You put your hand on your rounded stomach protectively. 

“It can be but with your blood pressure being so high it’s concerning. I’m going to order a blood panel just to be on the safe side. Now, let’s take a peek at this baby.” The ultrasound is all normal. the OB points out your baby's face and hand. You look over at Jay who is watching the screen in awe. He had seen the pictures, but this was a new experience. He breathed a quiet wow as the quick heartbeat of the baby filled the room. “It all looks good. It shouldn’t take long for that panel then you will be good to go.” 

A familiar nurse that you can’t name comes in and draws your blood. “Maybe I should message Will and let him know we are here.” Jay pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins typing. 

“Why so he can wait with us? He is working- leave him alone. Besides that was our deal, wasn’t it? There isn’t an emergency.” Jay holds his hands up in surrender. “And will you sit down please- your pacing is driving me crazy.” Jay flops into the chair giving you a ‘happy now’ look. “Geez, it’s like having a real brother.” 

“Yeah, and you're stuck with me. You and that bean, you got growing.” 

You smile caressing your stomach, “I’m good with that.” As much as you had fought him on it, it was nice to know that he cared enough to drag you to the hospital. Jay was protective and you knew he was going to be a lot more than just the fun uncle who only stopped by when he felt like treating your kid to a good time. “Can I ask you something?” At his nod, you continued, “Why were you at my apartment at 2 in the afternoon on a day you knew Will worked a double? Did Will ask you to check up on me?” 

“No,” You gave him a look of disbelief, “No, really, he didn’t. He didn’t ask me to come over or anything like that. He just mentioned that he thought you may not have been feeling good the last few days. So, I just wanted to make sure that you were- Are you crying?”  

You were.  

You had big crocodile tears running down your cheeks, “It’s the hormones. And honestly, that is just the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” More tears streamed down your face and Jay looked uncertain of what to do. When he saw a strategically placed tissue box, he grabbed it and held it out to you. You grabbed a few and started dabbing at your eyes. Your own family hadn’t been part of your life much since you had moved to Chicago. Not that they had been very good to you throughout your childhood into your twenties. You felt like you looked out for them more than they ever would for you. “I hope you know that I appreciate you and I’m so glad you are going to be in this baby's life. I love you, Jay.” He looked a little miffed but flattered as he rubbed your back soothingly.  

“Of course, I love you too.” 

You had gathered your raging emotions by the time the OB had returned. “Alright, everything looks good. I’m not going to put you on bed rest, but I highly encourage you to take it easy for the next few days.” You thank her and swing your legs over the bed to start the process of getting up, which is much harder now with a protruding belly. The woman paused in the doorway before turning and taking another step back into the room. You and Jay both look at her. “You know, another good natural way to get your blood pressure down is by having sex. I don’t see any problems with you having sexual activity right now. And with the looker you got- I would take every opportunity you get before the baby is the one keeping you up at night.” The doctor gives you a knowing wink before exiting the room. 

You look over to see a mortified Jay. His eyes were closed tightly, and he brought his hand to scrub down the bottom half of his face. The woman had barely made it out the door when you started laughing uncontrollably. When Will walked into the room less than a minute later and looked at you in bemusement as you tried to catch your breath. “Everything okay?” 

You immediately sober, “I told you not to bother him!” Will walked over to your bedside and helped you shuffle off the bed. His hand came to rest in its now familiar place on your stomach.  

“He didn’t, Maggie saw your name on some bloodwork. Are you okay? Everything okay with the baby?” Will’s face was furrowed with concern. You put your hand over his stroking your thumb across his knuckles.  

“Everything is fine. I had some cramping and Jay took me in to be on the safe side. It was just Braxton Hicks.” Some of the tension left Will but you can tell he is still on alert. “My blood pressure is a little high. But don’t worry, the doc thinks it is just from stress. She told me I should take it easy for a few days and gave me a few...natural ways to bring it down.” Will furrowed his brow trying to think of what you could be referring to. Then he turned when he heard Jay cough and mutter something under his breath. Will looked between the two of you knowing he had missed something.  

You give him a soft smile, “I’ll explain later. But really, don't worry, okay. I’m just going to spend the day on the couch watching Love is Blind. Taking it easy and relaxing, just like she said.” You push up on your toes and oblige you by leaning down for a kiss. “Now, I really have to go to the bathroom.” You say as you make a beeline for the public bathroom down the hall.  

“Is she really, okay? It must have been pretty bad for her to feel like she needed to call you.” Will looked even more worried after you left the room. Jay rested his hand on his shoulder to comfort his older brother. He knew that Will had been trying his hardest to keep all of his own worry as a doctor from bleeding into you. He had been trying hard to do everything at your pace and not overstep the line of future dad to doctor. It hadn’t always been a struggle he won. It didn’t help that you hated hospitals and felt like less was more when it came to OB appointments. You had a tendency to cancel and never reschedule them much to his frustration.  

“She’s okay. I was actually already over there. She started getting some cramping and I kind of forced her to come here to get checked out.” A guilty look crossed Jay's face. 

“Forced her?” Will found that hard to believe. It was like pulling teeth to force you into doing anything. You had a stubborn streak to match the Halstead clan. 

“Well, more of an ultimatum really. I told her she could either agree to come in or I'd call you.”  

Will hummed in understanding, that sounded way more plausible. “You were already over there? I thought I told you I was working a double.” 

“You did.” Jay agreed, “You also told me she had been feeling well.”  

The gratitude that Will felt for his brother at that moment was overwhelming. “Thanks, man. I’m glad you were there. It means a lot.” 

“You would have done the same for me,” Jay stated simply, “Besides that what you do for family.” He sighed heavily, “That’s why after I buy her the pizza she has been talking about for the last hour, I’m going to sit down on the couch with her and watch that trash she calls TV. I’ll make sure she is all good until you get home.” 

[sweetcreaturetm]

I wish there was more nurse Steve.

Like Steve in nursing school doing clinicals and he does a round in the ED. And his first shift he gets this weirdo who has to have one of his rings cut off his finger cause he bet his buddy that his rings wouldn’t bend under the wheels of his van. He’s honestly lucky none of his bones are broken. Steve’s kind of just in the background since he’s just doing clinicals but the guy keeps looking at him for comfort while the doctors are setting up all the stuff to cut the ring. Steve can tell he’s a little scared so he goes to stand on his other side to distract him.

“So- uhhh” Steve checks the chart “Mr. Munson do you usually go around running over various body parts?”

Eddie smiles widely at him “it’s Eddie, and no. But uh” he shares a sneaky look with Steve and lowers his voice like they’re conspiring together “I was a little… shall we say elevated”

Steve literally giggles “I knew it smelled a little funkier than usual” he winks.

“What can I say I’m a funky guy-“ Eddie gets cut off by the small saw the doctors are aiming at his hand. Steve can tell he’s about to freak out he sees him start to pull his hand away.

He puts his hand on Eddie’s other arm and brings his attention back to him. He glances down at his guitar pick necklace. “Do you play the guitar?” He asks his hand never leaves Eddie’s arm. And that gets Eddie distracted going on and on about his sweetheart and his band and how they play at a place called the hideout and Steve listens intently. Steve’s more than kind of mesmerized by him.

Before either of them realize the ring is off. The charge nurse asks Steve to finish wrapping Eddie’s fingers and discharge him. Steve goes about getting the gauze and other supplies while still listening to Eddie now he’s talking about D&D something Steve knew more about than he wished thanks to Dustin.

He interrupts Eddie “Okay so I’m gonna put this ointment on just for some relief the saw blade didn’t cut you but it got a little hot for your skin so you might feel a little discomfort. Then I’ll wrap it up. Try to keep an eye if it starts to hurt worse or you have a reaction. I can sneak you some of this it works wonders” he starts to clean the tray off but Eddie stops him with his hand over Steve’s own.

“Do you think I could have my ring back?” He asks sheepishly.

“Oh yeah! Of course sorry I wasn’t thinking” Steve’s a little embarrassed of course he wanted his ring he probably didn’t even care about the stupid ointment. He puts the ring in a little plastic cup they use for pills. Unfortunately they had to cut it a few times so there’s some small bits of the band that are in pieces.

After Eddie signs all the paperwork he gives Steve a little bow in thanks “you probably couldn’t tell since I was being so brave” Eddie says. Steve giggles at that. “But I am a tad frightened of hospitals and stuff. So thanks for being so nice to me. And distracting me when they tried to saw my finger off”

“They would not saw your finger off!” Steve laughs even harder. “It was nice talking to you.” He gives Eddie a hopefully flirty smile.

“Whatever you say, Stevie” Eddie says after he glances down at Steve’s temporary badge. “But hey if it was so nice maybe you can come check out our next show after my fingers are fully recovered” he waggles said fingers but then winces and stops.

Steve reaches out for his injured hand and holds it and says “that actually sounds really nice. But I literally have no time out of school and clinicals.”

“Well maybe I’ll just have to find another way to injure myself to see you again” Eddie says getting bolder.

Steve looks deep into his eyes. He glances down at Eddie’s lips god he wishes he wasn’t literally working right now. “What if you didn’t hurt yourself again and I give you my number and you can come by when I get off my shift.”

Eddie considers for a second and hands Steve his own phone so Steve can put his number in. “That sounds doable” he leans close to Steve’s ear as he gathers his jacket to walk out of the curtained off area and then whispers “just like you” he winks over his shoulder at a gaping Steve.

When Eddie pulls out his phone after getting to the van he sees the newest contact in his phone “Stevie” with a little stethoscope emoji next to it. He sends Steve a quick text so he’ll be able to text him when he’s off.

Finally Steve takes a break and checks his phone he’s been dying to check it since Eddie left he has a text from an unknown number “Guess who *guitar emoji* *ring emoji*” Steve cannot stop grinning the rest of his shift.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 15

So... just one more chapter to go. I've experienced a wide range of emotions with this fic and to be honest, I'm grateful it's nearing the end.

I still will do the final book, just not sure when. As always keep an on the #boy with a bat, tag.

We finally get the moment you've all be waiting for. Robin and Steve on the floor of the bathroom.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Eddie spotted the Russians in military gear first. Two beefy guys with huge fucking guns and looks that would absolutely kill. Then he spotted two little blue sailors ducking into the theater. As far as he could tell, the soldier boys were looking for his friends, which meant the little idiots found their secret base.

“Found him,” Eddie hissed into the walkie talkie. “Only there are bad people looking for him. Please advise. Over.”

“You two together?”

“That’s a negative,” Eddie whispered. “Subject has ducked into the theater and the two bogies are in the food court and little ole me am stuck in the middle.”

“Is there a way you can lead them away from Steve without putting you in danger?”

Eddie chewed on his lip a moment and then said, “I don’t think so.” His lip quivered and a little sob escaped.

“Hey, hey,” Wayne said soothingly. “It’s going to be fine. I want you safe just as much as I want Steve safe, all right?”

Eddie breathed in deep and then let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, I’m really worried now. Even though I’ve seen him, it’s somehow worse than not knowing.”

“It only feels that way now,” Wayne murmured gently. “Just keep an eye out for both our boy and those Russkis, you hear?”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie replied weakly.

“I found out our beloved chef of police hasn’t been in town for the past couple of days either,” Wayne said, his tone grave.

“Shit!” he hissed. “This is beginning to look like an actual fucking conspiracy and I hate those.”

“I’m heading to the Sinclairs next,” Wayne said, “There has to be something–” there was the screeching of tires and then, “Holy fuck. I nearly ran over the younger Byers boy and the Sinclair kid. It doesn’t look good, Ed. They look like they’re gearing up for war.”

“Get them here as quick as possible,” Eddie said, “I have a feeling that what those shitheads are up to, it has to do with what’s going on here.”

~

Wayne let out a long piercing whistle got all the kids attention. “You need to get to the mall, I can get you there faster than on foot.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Lucas said politely, “I don’t think you want to be involved in this.”

Wayne scoffed. “Look kid, I’ve see a lot of horrible shit in my time, and I don’t know much, but I do know that Steve is in trouble and you guys are the only ones who can help him. So maybe cut the bullshit and get in the god damn truck.”

They all looked at each other and then nodded.

Mike pointed to El. “She’s hurt, can you help me get her in the truck?”

Wayne immediately hopped out of the truck and walked over to her. “I’m guessing any suggestion to take her to the hospital would met with resistance if not outright hostility?”

El and Mike looked at each other for a moment before El said. “I like him.”

Wayne laughed and bent down to pick her up. “I’m going to lay her on the back of the bed of the truck, you can stay with her if you like.”

Mike nodded and hopped up to the truck to help him get her situated. Once he was sure they were comfortable he hopped back into the driver’s side.

“Um...” Will said nervously, “how did you know they were at the mall? Dustin just contacted us, we just found out.” He left out the part that El had read Dustin’s mind to find out he was there.

Wayne glanced at him sidelong. “Your answer is on the other end of that walkie talkie.”

As if on cue the walkie talkie squawked to life. “Uncle Wayne, I just spotted the subjects going into the bathrooms by the theater and the bogies have moved off past the carousel. I’m going to make contact.”

Wayne grabbed the walkie talkie. “Sounds good, Ed. I have the sheep and am on my way back to the mall.”

“Eddie!” Will exclaimed excitedly.

“Baby Byers!” Eddie cried back. “I’m guessing things are freakier than Russians under the mall.”

Will went on to explain what was happening in town and what the plan was.

“Yeah, that’s pretty freaky,” Eddie said solemnly. “But between you and me we can deal with freaky, right?”

Will smiled and Wayne fought down a smile of his own. It was good to see his boy make Will feel better about the situation around his disappearance. Will had been called a freak a lot after that, and that was what they called Eddie too. But Eddie learned to own up the moniker and now he was helping Will feel the same.

~

God Steve hated puking. It was the worst. Right after concussions and being told by your very drunk girlfriend that she never loved you.

“Let’s see if the drug is still in us,” Robin suggested, leaning up against the wall.

Steve slid under the stall wall and into hers. He looked at her and breathed a sigh of relief. She was shaken but unharmed.

“When was the last time you peed your pants?” he asked, going for silly instead of trauma mining or secret finding.

“Today,” she admitted and then let out a gasp. “Yup! It’s still in there.” She covered her mouth with a giggle.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? You peed your pants today?”

Robin held up her finger and her thumb and put them close together. “Just a little. When they were interrogating you.”

That made sense he supposed, with a wince. He was pretty terrified himself. He nodded and then waved at her to ask him something.

Her expression got soft. “Have you ever been in love?”

Steve was little surprised by the answer if he was honest. Which considering the drug running through his veins, he had to be.

“Twice,” he admitted softly. “The first was Nancy Wheeler.” It actually physically hurt to say that. He had loved her. Despite what she thought about her cheating and his sexuality.

“Seriously?” Robin said with a laugh. “Miss Priss?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Turns out, not so much.”

She was fierce and tenacious and everything Steve wished he could be, but wasn’t.

“The other is this most amazing, weird, talented person imaginable,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d fall for them, but fuck I thank whoever every day that I did. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without their support.”

“Steve...” Robin muttered. “I appreciate it, but if you really knew me, you wouldn’t like the person I am.”

Steve blinked at her for a second and then tilted his head. “Huh?”

“There was a reason I was so mad at you when you first started working at Scoops,” she murmured. “Last year in Mrs. Click’s history class. You would come in late, make a mess of the stupid bagel you ate, and all the while, she was looking at you instead of me.”

“Who? Mrs. Click?”

“No!” Robin huffed, kicking her foot against the toilet. “Tammy Thompson. She was looking at your stupid hair and your stupid smile and I would just go home and scream into my pillow.”

Steve blinked for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You thought I was talking about you?” He laughed again. “God, I thought I had terrible taste! Tammy Thompson is a dud.”

Robin’s mouth dropped in shock. “No she’s not. She’s going places. She can sing.”

“No she can’t,” Steve teased and broke out into song.

“You sound like a Muppet!” she hissed, kicking at his thigh instead.

Steve snapped his fingers. “Yes! That’s it she sings like a Muppet!”

She burst out laughing again. “All right dingus, if you weren’t talking about me, who were you talking about?”

Steve picked at his nails for a moment. “Eddie Munson.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “If we weren’t under the stupid truth serum, I would tell you to fuck off. Are you gay?”

“Yeah,” he said not looking up from his nails. “He was so kind to me after the whole shit with Hargrove and Nancy and he just makes me feel like a full person again. And he knows about all this bullshit, too. Because I told him.”

“So you and Eddie, huh?” she asked softly.

Steve nodded again.

Just then the door to the bathroom swung open and standing behind Dustin and Erica was Eddie.

“Hey, darlin’,” Eddie said, leaning against the door frame. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

Steve blinked up at him with a dopey smile. “Like what?”

“You puking your guts out.”

Steve’s smile broke out into a wide grin.

~

Eddie blinked at the flying car. Of all the things that he’d heard about, that was definitely not one he ever thought he would ever see. Not that he was complaining about the rescue. Of course not, that would be rude. And Uncle Wayne did not a raise him to be rude.

Then Super-girl collapsed in pain and a wiggling, squirming thing could be seen under her skin. Jonathan bent down and was going to cut it out but his hands were shaking too bad.

“Out of the way,” Eddie bit out. He grabbed the knife and pushed Jonathan to the ground. He turned to the brave girl. “You ready?”

She nodded once.

With the flick of his wrist the thing burst from her skin landing a couple of feet from them. Thankfully the opposite direction Jonathan had fallen but still gross.

Eddie turned green and scrambled to get away. Everyone else froze at the sight of the thing as it tried to get to El again.

BANG!

Eddie looked up to see Wayne with the rifle and Hopper and Joyce flanking him, with a small weaselly looking guy, peering around Joyce.

“Jane!” Hopper cried and ran to her.

She held him close and whispered, “Why didn’t you kill it?”

Hopper chuckled and turned to face Wayne and Joyce. Then he turned back to her. “I’m a good shot, sweetheart, but Wayne is the best and there were just too many people around and I didn’t want to hurt no one.”

El thought about it for a moment. “Thank you.”

Wayne nodded slowly and lowered the rifle.

Everyone filled everyone else in. Mind Flayers were real. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. And by cool he absolutely meant terrifying.

Dustin and Erica offered to show Joyce and Hopper to the Russian base.

Hopper looked down at Dustin with the absolute despair of an adult who knows the answer to the question but absolutely has to ask it anyway.

“Why does it have to be you and Erica and not Steve and the other girl?” he asked after drawing his hands down his face.

“Because Robin, that’s the girl by the way,” Dustin said cheerfully, “were drugged and really don’t remember anything about how we got out.”

Hopper lifted his eyes skyward and put his hands on his hips, pursing his lips. Yup. That was the answer he thought he was going to get.

Murray stepped up. “You can do it through a walkie talkie kid,” and handed him his. “I’m not going to let a couple of eight year olds walk into that mess. Especially now that we know what’s going on.”

“I’m eleven you bald headed freak,” Erica sassed back, hands on her hips.

“Besides,” Dustin said, looking smug as hell, “we know walkie talkies don’t work beyond a certain point so they would be absolutely useless.”

“Yeah,” Erica agreed. “We only went down in the elevator and the walkies wouldn’t work.”

Dustin rubbed his hands together. “What you need is someone who has seen their com room, has a communications tower big enough to get to you below the mall, and knows the way there.”

“Oh wait,” he said with a smug grin. “You have me!”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and they both rolled their eyes as Hopper ran his hands over his face again.

“We’ll need a head start,” he said ignoring all the groans around him. “And a car.”

Steve held up his hands. “Don’t look at me, the Russians took my keys.”

Hopper shook his head. “Now that we know it’s Billy, your car would stand out too much.”

“I’ve got my van,” Eddie said, raising his hand.

Hopper scratched his chin. “And do you think that Billy would recognize it?”

Max scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah...”

“Do I want to know?” Hopper asked with a raised eyebrow.

Max opened her mouth to reply but Eddie cut her off with a hard, “No.”

Hopper looked Eddie up and down and then nodded. “Right, you’ll take the car I ‘borrowed’ instead.”

He tossed the keys to Steve who caught it one handed.

Everyone went their separate ways, with the five of them, Robin, Steve, Eddie, Erica, and Dustin, heading out to find this car.

Steve threw out his arms and sighed. “This is more like it.”

It was a suped up yellow hot rod convertible with the vanity plate of TODFTHR

Robin raised an eyebrow and sneered, “The Todd Father?”

“Steve’s her daddy now,” he purred.

Eddie started laughing. “Honey, we aren’t playing who’s your daddy right now, but we are sooo going to talk about that later.”

“What does that even mean?” Dustin asked, scrunching up his nose.

Eddie grabbed the keys out Steve’s hands.

“You probably have a concussion and at least double vision,” he huffed before Steve could protest, “I’m driving.”

Steve sighed and let him take the keys.

“Back seat, Buckley,” Eddie huffed, sliding into the car as Erica got in and Dustin hopped over the door.

She rolled her eyes but did as she was told, sliding next to Erica as Steve hopped into the passenger seat.

~

Part 16

Tag List: THREE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

10- @w1ll0wtr33 @samsoble

[livingintheupsidedown]

Colourblind

Steve Harrington x Reader.

[1.5k] - You can't decide if you should tell Steve how you feel or not, he makes that decision for you.

Warnings - mentions of trauma, the events of season 4, the beginning of a panic attack.

A/N - the lyrics used are from a song called "colourblind by ed sheeran" it's a beautiful song i highly recommend listening to it. this is also dedicated to my beautiful friend @dukesmebby because i love her <33

Kaleidoscope love

Yeah, that is you and me

Forever changing

We make life interesting.

The gentle swish of the wind from outside your window was all you could hear, the only sound to reach your ears, although it wasn’t the thing keeping you awake. Your clock read 2:18 but your mind wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop playing the events from the nights before. Wouldn’t stop the screams, the cries, the heartache. You had thought you wanted to be alone, but right now you couldn’t think of anything worse. You needed someone to ground you, to remind you it was all over, for now at least. 

You thought of Eddie, an unlikely friend that you’d bonded with quicker than expected. How his body was just left in a dimension no one planned to ever enter again. How if there was a small chance he was alive he would be stuck. How if he was stuck he’d be scared, petrified even, looking for a way home. How he’d be alone, deserted and abandoned by the people he thought were his friends. 

You thought of Max in the hospital, unconscious, broken bones, potentially blind for the rest of her life. How scared she must have been, 14 years old fighting a monster that should only be in fantasy games. How she has her whole life ahead of her and now it’ll be a completely different future than she had planned. How unfair that is for someone so young.

You thought of all the things you should’ve done. You should’ve been there for Eddie, been there for Max. You should’ve got to Vecna sooner so that maybe, just maybe, everyone would still be okay. You should’ve been there for the kids. You should’ve told Steve how you feel. 

You should’ve told him the 3 am drives and late nights meant everything to you, that they were the things that kept you going through the chaos, that he was what you were holding onto. He was the one person who seemed to be the calm when you needed it most, who would lead you to the eye of the storm where it was peaceful even if only for a moment. Steve was your person, you just didn’t know if you were his. 

Some days we're red and some days we both think green

But I like the nights when we leave the canvas free …

You take the dark away and that's no easy feat.

The clock now flashed 3:48 and you’d made your way downstairs. The water bubbled and the toaster hummed as you tried to distract yourself. The gentle noise was welcomed to help slow the thumpthumpthump of your heart, beating far too quickly for the late hour. Your hand hovered over the phone, head fighting with your heart begging the other to surrender. Ultimately, it was your heart that won, your fingers dialled a number known off by heart.

Your hands shook, this is so stupid, you thought. Were you really about to disturb your best friend in the middle of the night because you’re having trouble sleeping? This is ridiculous. This is SO stupid, he doesn’t care, he-

“Hello?” his voice came out as a grumble, clearly awoken from sleep you were unaware he’d only just fallen into. Your breaths quickened, panic now filling your senses, you were such a bad friend why would you wake him up when he was trying to sleep? 

Your name was whispered to you, drawing you back in, “Is that you sweetheart?” a gentle pull back to reality that you ended up clinging to. Even his voice was enough to keep you present. 

“Yeah,” a whisper back, “yeah it’s me, Stevie.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just um, I couldn’t sleep,” a shaky sigh left your lungs, lips dry as you tried to speak again, “My head was- my mind won’t shut off.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No no I didn’t want to disturb you I just-”

Your name came out firm, enough to silence the start of your rambling. “Do you need me?”

A beat passed, then...

“Please.”

I keep falling deeper in dark blue

Brighter than white

Rainbows exploding,

But I can't see nothing,

Except you and your eyes.

His engine roared against the silence of the night, your tea was long forgotten, and toast turned stale at your lack of touch. You sat on the floor in the main hallway, phone on the wall above you in case it rang. The thought of one of your friends on the other end needing your help sat deep in your stomach, unable to will yourself to ever be too far from a phone. 

The toll of light footsteps greeted your ears, a familiar sound. One others might find ominous, but you welcomed it, you knew his pattern by now and the sound actually brought you comfort, to know he was up and walking, that he was okay. 

You didn’t bother moving when the sound of his keys rattled against the door. Using the spare that you gave him, you all exchanged keys after the past couple of weeks, a “just-in-case” protocol according to Dustin. The door opened, the glow from the porch light flowed in along with his tall frame. His eyes were wide, panicked, searching. When they found you they softened, along with the muscles in his shoulders you noticed. 

“Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing down there?” his voice came out sweet, like honey was dripping from his tongue. 

“I don’t know..hiding?”

“From what?”

You shrugged, you weren’t sure really, it just seemed safer when you could curl in on yourself, hug your knees to your chest and try to shut out the world, although often you were unsuccessful. 

“Let’s go back to bed hm?” he bent down, arm circling your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, “it’s late, let’s try and get some sleep.”

He led you to your bedroom, manoeuvering through your house as if it was his own, and in a weird way, it was. You and Steve spent more time together in the safety of your own home than you spent outside, a familiar environment, a place where you didn’t have to be so alert all the time, where you could loosen up and act like normal people again.

He pulled the covers of your bed back and motioned for you to climb inside as he shed his shirt, muscles flexing and relaxing, almost mesmerizing. You shook your head from your own thoughts and did as you were told, now was not the time to become even more flustered for god’s sake. He crawled in beside you, laying on his back with one arm behind his head as you rested yours upon his chest, arm coming up to trace patterns on his skin.  

Your breaths synced up, a steady rhythm of up and down, grounding you to reality instead of the world inside your head. “Steve?” you whispered to break the silence, “do you ever think you should’ve done more?”

His chest froze in place for a second, his thoughts in tandem with his body, “More how sweetheart?”

“I don’t know just more?” your voice grew heavy, the threat of water starting to spill from your eyes, “like there were things you should’ve done but didn’t and now you’re not sure if it’s too late.”

He sighed, breath fanning over the top of your head, “I mean yeah, they’re definitely things I thought about doing, about saying, that I just never got round to,” his fingers trailed up and down your arm, a comforting touch, “guess I just didn’t want it to seem like it was in the moment you know? That I was saying it because I had to.”

His hand came round your face, fingers resting under your chin as he tilted it towards him. You caught his eyes, pupils blown wide enough that the brown became difficult to see but you would never miss it, his eyes yet another safe space you could allow yourself to fall into. 

“Because I wouldn’t do that,” he closed his eyes for just a moment, a second, enough for him to gain composure again, “I could never-  I would never, say it if I didn’t mean it. I promise you that.”

His eyes locked onto yours, flickering between them both, undecided in which one was more beautiful, only breaking briefly to peer down at your lips, a moment you didn’t miss.

“I promise you okay?” he spoke out into the air between you both, “everything I tell you is true, the moment just has to be right, I have to do it right.” 

A soft smile rose to your lips, his double meaning lighting a fire in your stomach, your breathing pausing as your fought to gain control, “then wait.”

“What?”

“Then wait Steve,” you spoke, “wait for the moment to be right.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “yeah I will.”

Maybe we'll just paint the night colourblind.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Jon Haidt

Published: Mar 9, 2023

In May 2014, Greg Lukianoff invited me to lunch to talk about something he was seeing on college campuses that disturbed him. Greg is the president of FIRE (the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression), and he has worked tirelessly since 2001 to defend the free speech rights of college students. That almost always meant pushing back against administrators who didn’t want students to cause trouble, and who justified their suppression of speech with appeals to the emotional “safety” of students—appeals that the students themselves didn’t buy. But in late 2013, Greg began to encounter new cases in which students were pushing to ban speakers, punish people for ordinary speech, or implement policies that would chill free speech. These students arrived on campus in the fall of 2013 already accepting the idea that books, words, and ideas could hurt them. Why did so many students in 2013 believe this, when there was little sign of such beliefs in 2011?

Greg is prone to depression, and after hospitalization for a serious episode in 2007, Greg learned CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy). In CBT you learn to recognize when your ruminations and automatic thinking patterns exemplify one or more of about a dozen “cognitive distortions,” such as catastrophizing, black-and-white thinking, fortune telling, or emotional reasoning. Thinking in these ways causes depression, as well as being a symptom of depression. Breaking out of these painful distortions is a cure for depression. 

What Greg saw in 2013 were students justifying the suppression of speech and the punishment of dissent using the exact distortions that Greg had learned to free himself from. Students were saying that an unorthodox speaker on campus would cause severe harm to vulnerable students (catastrophizing); they were using their emotions as proof that a text should be removed from a syllabus (emotional reasoning). Greg hypothesized that if colleges supported the use of these cognitive distortions, rather than teaching students skills of critical thinking (which is basically what CBT is), then this could cause students to become depressed. Greg feared that colleges were performing reverse CBT. 

I thought the idea was brilliant because I had just begun to see these new ways of thinking among some students at NYU. I volunteered to help Greg write it up, and in August 2015 our essay appeared in The Atlantic with the title: The Coddling of the American Mind. Greg did not like that title; his original suggestion was “Arguing Towards Misery: How Campuses Teach Cognitive Distortions.” He wanted to put the reverse CBT hypothesis in the title.

After our essay came out, things on campus got much worse. The fall of 2015 marked the beginning of a period of protests and high-profile conflicts on campus that led many or most universities to implement policies that embedded this new way of thinking into campus culture with administrative expansions such as “bias response teams” to investigate reports of “microaggressions.” Surveys began to show that most students and professors felt that they had to self-censor. The phrase “walking on eggshells” became common. Trust in higher ed plummeted, along with the joy of intellectual discovery and sense of goodwill that had marked university life throughout my career. 

Greg and I decided to expand our original essay into a book in which we delved into the many causes of the sudden change in campus culture. Our book focused on three “great untruths” that seemed to be widely believed by the students who were trying to shut down speech and prosecute dissent:

1. What doesn’t kill you makes you weaker 2. Always trust your feelings 3. Life is a battle between good people and evil people. 

Each of these untruths was the exact opposite of a chapter in my first book, The Happiness Hypothesis, which explored ten Great Truths passed down to us from ancient societies east and west. We published our book in 2018 with the title, once again, of The Coddling of the American Mind. Once again, Greg did not like the title. He wanted the book to be called “Disempowered,” to capture the way that students who embrace the three great untruths lose their sense of agency. He wanted to capture reverse CBT. 

The Discovery of the Gender-by-Politics Interaction

In September 2020, Zach Goldberg, who was then a graduate student at Georgia State University, discovered something interesting in a dataset made public by Pew Research. Pew surveyed about 12,000 people in March 2020, during the first month of the Covid shutdowns. The survey included this item: “Has a doctor or other healthcare provider EVER told you that you have a mental health condition?” Goldberg graphed the percentage of respondents who said “yes” to that item as a function of their self-placement on the liberal-conservative 5-point scale and found that white liberals were much more likely to say yes than white moderates and conservatives. (His analyses for non-white groups generally found small or inconsistent relationships with politics.) 

I wrote to Goldberg and asked him to redo it for men and women separately, and for young vs. old separately. He did, and he found that the relationship to politics was much stronger for young (white) women. You can see Goldberg’s graph here, but I find it hard to interpret a three-way interaction using bar charts, so I downloaded the Pew dataset and created line graphs, which make it easier to interpret. 

Here’s the same data, showing three main effects: gender (women higher), age (youngest groups higher), and politics (liberals higher). The graphs also show three two-way interactions (young women higher, liberal women higher, young liberals higher). And there’s an important three-way interaction: it is the young liberal women who are highest. They are so high that a majority of them said yes, they had been told that they have a mental health condition. 

Figure 1.  Data from Pew Research, American Trends Panel Wave 64. The survey was fielded March 19-24, 2020. Graphed by Jon Haidt.

In recent weeks—since the publication of the CDC’s report on the high and rising rates of depression and anxiety among teens—there has been a lot of attention to a different study that shows the gender-by-politics interaction: Gimbrone, Bates, Prins, & Keyes (2022), titled: “The politics of depression: Diverging trends in internalizing symptoms among US adolescents by political beliefs.” Gimbrone et al. examined trends in the Monitoring the Future dataset, which is the only major US survey of adolescents that asks high school students (seniors) to self-identify as liberal or conservative (using a 5-point scale). The survey asks four items about mood/depression. Gimbrone et al. found that prior to 2012 there were no sex differences and only a small difference between liberals and conservatives. But beginning in 2012, the liberal girls began to rise, and they rose the most. The other three groups followed suit, although none rose as much, in absolute terms, as did the liberal girls (who rose .73 points since 2010, on a 5-point scale where the standard deviation is .89). 

Figure 2. Data from Monitoring the Future, graphed by Gimbrone et al. (2022). The scale runs from 1 (minimum) to 5 (maximum).

The authors of the study try to explain the fact that liberals rise first and most in terms of the terrible things that conservatives were doing during Obama’s second term, e.g., 

Liberal adolescents may have therefore experienced alienation within a growing conservative political climate such that their mental health suffered in comparison to that of their conservative peers whose hegemonic views were flourishing.

The progressive New York Times columnist Michelle Goldberg took up the question and wrote a superb essay making the argument that teen mental health is not and must not become a partisan issue. She dismissed Gimbrone et al.’s explanation as having a poor fit with their own data: 

Barack Obama was re-elected in 2012. In 2013, the Supreme Court extended gay marriage rights. It was hard to draw a direct link between that period’s political events and teenage depression, which in 2012 started an increase that has continued, unabated, until today.

After examining the evidence, including the fact that the same trends happened at the same time in Britain, Canada, and Australia, Goldberg concluded that “Technology, not politics, was what changed in all these countries around 2012. That was the year that Facebook bought Instagram and the word “selfie” entered the popular lexicon.”

Journalist Matt Yglesias also took up the puzzle of why liberal girls became more depressed than others, and in a long and self-reflective Substack post, he described what he has learned about depression from his own struggles involving many kinds of treatment. Like Michelle Goldberg, he briefly considered the hypothesis that liberals are depressed because they’re the only ones who see that “we’re living in a late-stage capitalist hellscape during an ongoing deadly pandemic w record wealth inequality, 0 social safety net/job security, as climate change cooks the world,” to quote a tweet from the Washington Post tech columnist Taylor Lorenz. Yglesias agreed with Goldberg and other writers that the Lorenz explanation—reality makes Gen Z depressed—doesn’t fit the data, and, because of his knowledge of depression, he focused on the reverse path: depression makes reality look terrible. As he put it: “Mentally processing ambiguous events with a negative spin is just what depression is.”

Yglesias tells us what he has learned from years of therapy, which clearly involved CBT:

It’s important to reframe your emotional response as something that’s under your control: • Stop saying “so-and-so made me angry by doing X.” • Instead say “so-and-so did X, and I reacted by becoming angry.” And the question you then ask yourself is whether becoming angry made things better? Did it solve the problem? 

Yglesias wrote that “part of helping people get out of their trap is teaching them not to catastrophize.” He then described an essay by progressive journalist Jill Filipovic that argued, in Yglesias’s words, that “progressive institutional leaders have specifically taught young progressives that catastrophizing is a good way to get what they want.”

Yglesias quoted a passage from Filipovic that expressed exactly the concern that Greg had expressed to me back in 2014: 

I am increasingly convinced that there are tremendously negative long-term consequences, especially to young people, coming from this reliance on the language of harm and accusations that things one finds offensive are “deeply problematic” or even violent. Just about everything researchers understand about resilience and mental well-being suggests that people who feel like they are the chief architects of their own life — to mix metaphors, that they captain their own ship, not that they are simply being tossed around by an uncontrollable ocean — are vastly better off than people whose default position is victimization, hurt, and a sense that life simply happens to them and they have no control over their response. 

I have italicized Filipovic’s text about the benefits of feeling like you captain your own ship because it points to a psychological construct with a long history of research and measurement: Locus of control. As first laid out by Julian Rotter in the 1950s, this is a malleable personality trait referring to the fact that some people have an internal locus of control—they feel as if they have the power to choose a course of action and make it happen, while other people have an external locus of control—they have little sense of agency and they believe that strong forces or agents outside of themselves will determine what happens to them. Sixty years of research show that people with an internal locus of control are happier and achieve more. People with an external locus of control are more passive and more likely to become depressed.

How a Phone-Based Childhood Breeds Passivity

There are at least two ways to explain why liberal girls became depressed faster than other groups at the exact time (around 2012) when teens traded in their flip phones for smartphones and the girls joined Instagram en masse. The first and simplest explanation is that liberal girls simply used social media more than any other group. Jean Twenge’s forthcoming book, Generations, is full of amazing graphs and insightful explanations of generational differences. In her chapter on Gen Z, she shows that liberal teen girls are by far the most likely to report that they spend five or more hours a day on social media (31% in recent years, compared to 22% for conservative girls, 18% for liberal boys, and just 13% for conservative boys). Being an ultra-heavy user means that you have less time available for everything else, including time “in real life” with your friends. Twenge shows in another graph that from the 1970s through the early 2000s, liberal girls spent more time with friends than conservative girls. But after 2010 their time with friends drops so fast that by 2016 they are spending less time with friends than are conservative girls. So part of the story may be that social media took over the lives of liberal girls more than any other group, and it is now clear that heavy use of social media damages mental health, especially during early puberty. 

But I think there’s more going on here than the quantity of time on social media. Like Filipovic, Yglesias, Goldberg, and Lukianoff, I think there’s something about the messages liberal girls consume that is more damaging to mental health than those consumed by other groups. 

The Monitoring the Future dataset happens to have within it an 8-item Locus of Control scale. With Twenge’s permission, I reprint one such graph from Generations showing responses to one of the items: “Every time I try to get ahead, something or somebody stops me.” This item is a good proxy for Filipovic’s hypothesis about the disempowering effects of progressive institutions. If you agree with that item, you have a more external locus of control. As you can see in Figure 3, from the 1970s until the mid-2000s, boys were a bit more likely to agree with that item, but then girls rose to match boys, and then both sexes rose continuously throughout the 2010s—the era when teen social life became far more heavily phone-based. 

Figure 3. Percentage of boys and girls (high school seniors) who agree with (or are neutral about) the statement “Every time I try to get ahead, something or somebody stops me.” From Monitoring the Future, graphed by Jean Twenge in her forthcoming book Generations.

When the discussion of the gender-by-politics interaction broke out a few weeks ago, I thought back to Twenge’s graph and wondered what would happen if we broke up the sexes by politics. Would it give us the pattern in the Gimbrone et al. graphs, where the liberal girls rise first and most? Twenge sent me her data file (it’s a tricky one to assemble, across the many years), and Zach Rausch and I started looking for the interaction. We found some exciting hints, and I began writing this post on the assumption that we had a major discovery. For example, Figure 4 shows the item that Twenge analyzed. We see something like the Gimbrone et al. pattern in which it’s the liberal girls who depart from everyone else, in the unhealthy (external) direction, starting in the early 2000s. 

Figure 4. Percentage of liberal and conservative high school senior boys (left panel) and girls (right panel) who agree with the statement “Every time I try to get ahead, something or somebody stops me.” From Monitoring the Future, graphed by Zach Rausch.

It sure looks like the liberal girls are getting more external while the conservative girls are, if anything, trending slightly more internal in the last decade, and the boys are just bouncing around randomly. But that was just for this one item. We also found a similar pattern for a second item, “People like me don’t have much of a chance at a successful life.” (You can see graphs of all 8 items here.) 

We were excited to have found such clear evidence of the interaction, but when we plotted responses to the whole scale, we found only a hint of the predicted interaction, and only in the last few years, as you can see in Figure 5. After trying a few different graphing strategies, and after seeing if there was a good statistical justification for dropping any items, we reached the tentative conclusion that the big story about locus of control is not about liberal girls, it’s about Gen Z as a whole. Everyone—boys and girls, left and right—developed a more external locus of control gradually, beginning in the 1990s. I’ll come back to this finding in future posts as I explore the second strand of the After Babel Substack: the loss of “play-based childhood” which happened in the 1990s when American parents (and British, and Canadian) stopped letting their children out to play and explore, unsupervised. (See Frank Furedi’s important book Paranoid Parenting. I believe that the loss of free play and self-supervised risk-taking blocked the development of a healthy, normal, internal locus of control. That is the reason I teamed up with Lenore Skenazy, Peter Gray, and Daniel Shuchman to found LetGrow.org.) 

Figure 5. Locus of Control has shifted slightly but steadily toward external since the 1990s. Scores are on a 5-point scale from 1 = most internal to 5 = most external. 

We kept looking in the Monitoring the Future dataset and the Gimbrone et al. paper for other items that would allow us to test Filipovic’s hypothesis. We found an ideal second set of variables: The Monitoring the Future dataset has a set of items on “self derogation” which is closely related to disempowerment, as you can see from the four statements that comprise the scale:

I feel I do not have much to be proud of. Sometimes I think I am no good at all. I feel that I can't do anything right. I feel that my life is not very useful.

Gimbrone et al. had graphed the self-derogation scale, as you can see in their appendix (Figure  A.4). But Zach and I re-graphed the original data so that we could show a larger range of years, from 1977 through 2021. As you can see in Figure 6, we find the gender-by-politics interaction. Once again, and as with nearly all of the mental health indicators I examined in a previous post, there’s no sign of trouble before 2010. But right around 2012 the line for liberal girls starts to rise. It rises first, and it rises most, with liberal boys not far behind (as in Gimbrone et al.).

Figure 6. Self-derogation scale, averaging four items from the Monitoring the Future study. Graphed by Zach Rausch. The scale runs from 1 (strongly disagree with each statement) to 5 (strongly agree). 

In other words, we have support for Filipovic’s “captain their own ship” concern, and for Lukianoff’s disempowerment concern: Gen Z has become more external in its locus of control, and Gen Z liberals (of both sexes) have become more self-derogating. They are more likely to agree that they “can’t do anything right.” Furthermore, most of the young people in the progressive institutions that Filipovic mentioned are women, and that has become even more true since 2014 when, according to Gallup data, young women began to move to the left while young men did not move either way. As Gen Z women became more progressive and more involved in political activism in the 2010s, it seems to have changed them psychologically. It wasn’t just that their locus of control shifted toward external—that happened to all subsets of Gen Z.  Rather, young liberals (including young men) seem to have taken into themselves the specific depressive cognitions and distorted ways of thinking that CBT is designed to expunge.

But where did they learn to think this way? And why did it start so suddenly around 2012 or 2013, as Greg observed, and as Figures 2 and 6 confirm?

Tumblr Was the Petri Dish for Disempowering Beliefs

I recently listened to a brilliant podcast series, The Witch Trials of J. K. Rowling, hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper, created within Bari Weiss’s Free Press. Phelps-Roper interviews Rowling about her difficult years developing the Harry Potter stories in the early 1990s, before the internet; her rollout of the books in the late 90s and early 2000s, during the early years of the internet; and her observations about the Harry Potter superfan communities that the internet fostered. These groups had streaks of cruelty and exclusion in them from the beginning, along with a great deal of love, joy, and community. But in the stunning third episode, Phelps-Roper and Rowling take us through the dizzying events of the early 2010s as the social media site Tumblr exploded in popularity (reaching its peak in early 2014), and also in viciousness. Tumblr was different from Facebook and other sites because it was not based on anyone’s social network; it brought together people from anywhere in the world who shared an interest, and often an obsession.

Phelps-Roper interviewed several experts who all pointed to Tumblr as the main petri dish in which nascent ideas of identity, fragility, language, harm, and victimhood evolved and intermixed. Angela Nagle (author of Kill All Normies) described the culture that emerged among young activists on Tumblr, especially around gender identity, in this way:

There was a culture that was encouraged on Tumblr, which was to be able to describe your unique non-normative self… And that’s to some extent a feature of modern society anyway. But it was taken to such an extreme that people began to describe this as the snowflake [referring to the idea that each snowflake is unique], the person who constructs a totally kind of boutique identity for themselves, and then guards that identity in a very, very sensitive way and reacts in an enraged way when anyone does not respect the uniqueness of their identity. 

Nagle described how on the other side of the political spectrum, there was “the most insensitive culture imaginable, which was the culture of 4chan.” The communities involved in gender activism on Tumblr were mostly young progressive women while 4Chan was mostly used by right-leaning young men, so there was an increasingly gendered nature to the online conflict. The two communities supercharged each other with their mutual hatred, as often happens in a culture war. The young identity activists on Tumblr embraced their new notions of identity, fragility, and trauma all the more tightly, increasingly saying that words are a form of violence, while the young men on 4chan moved in the opposite direction: they brandished a rough and rude masculinity in which status was gained by using words more insensitively than the next guy. It was out of this reciprocal dynamic, the experts on the podcast suggest, that today’s cancel culture was born in the early 2010s. Then, in 2013, it escaped from Tumblr into the much larger Twitterverse. Once on Twitter, it went national and even global (at least within the English-speaking countries), producing the mess we all live with today.

I don’t want to tell that entire story here; please listen to the Witch Trials podcast for yourself. It is among the most enlightening things I’ve read or heard in all my years studying the American culture war (along with Jon Ronson’s podcast Things Fell Apart). I just want to note that this story fits perfectly with both the timing and the psychology of Greg’s reverse CBT hypothesis. 

Implications and Policy Changes

In conclusion, I believe that Greg Lukianoff was exactly right in the diagnosis he shared with me in 2014. Many young people had suddenly—around 2013—embraced three great untruths:

They came to believe that they were fragile and would be harmed by books, speakers, and words, which they learned were forms of violence (Great Untruth #1). 

They came to believe that their emotions—especially their anxieties—were reliable guides to reality (Great Untruth #2).

They came to see society as comprised of victims and oppressors—good people and bad people (Great Untruth #3).

Liberals embraced these beliefs more than conservatives. Young liberal women adopted them more than any other group due to their heavier use of social media and their participation in online communities that developed new disempowering ideas. These cognitive distortions then caused them to become more anxious and depressed than other groups. Just as Greg had feared, many universities and progressive institutions embraced these three untruths and implemented programs that performed reverse CBT on young people, in violation of their duty to care for them and educate them. 

I welcome challenges to this conclusion from scholars, journalists, and subscribers, and I will address such challenges in future posts. I must also repeat that I don’t blame everything on smartphones and social media; the other strand of my story is the loss of play-based childhood, with its free play and self-governed risk-taking. But if this conclusion stands (along with my conclusions in previous posts), then I think there are two big policy changes that should be implemented as soon as possible: 

1) Universities and other schools should stop performing reverse CBT on their students

As Greg and I showed in The Coddling of the American Mind, most of the programs put in place after the campus protests of 2015 are based on one or more of the three Great Untruths, and these programs have been imported into many K-12 schools. From mandatory diversity training to bias response teams and trigger warnings, there is little evidence that these programs do what they say they do, and there are some findings that they backfire. In any case, there are reasons, as I have shown, to worry that they teach children and adolescents to embrace harmful, depressogenic cognitive distortions.

One initiative that has become popular in the last few years is particularly suspect: efforts to tell college students to avoid common English words and phrases that are said to be “harmful.” Brandeis University took the lead in 2021 with its “oppressive language list.” Brandeis urged its students to stop saying that they would “take a stab at” something because it was unnecessarily violent. For the same reason, they urged that nobody ask for a “trigger warning” because, well, guns. Students should ask for “content warnings” instead, to keep themselves safe from violent words like “stab.” Many universities have followed suit, including Colorado State University, The University of British Columbia, The University of Washington, and Stanford, which eventually withdrew its “harmful language list” because of the adverse publicity. Stanford had urged students to avoid words like “American,” “Immigrant,” and “submit,” as in “submit your homework.” Why? because the word “submit” can “imply allowing others to have power over you.” The irony here is that it may be these very programs that are causing liberal students to feel disempowered, as if they are floating in a sea of harmful words and people when, in reality, they are living in some of the most welcoming and safe environments ever created.

2) The US Congress should raise the age of “internet adulthood” from 13 to 16 or 18

What do you think should be the minimum age at which children can sign a legally binding contract to give away their data and their rights,  and expose themselves to harmful content, without the consent or knowledge of their parents? I asked that question as a Twitter poll, and you can see the results here:

Image: See my original tweet.

Of course, this poll of my own Twitter followers is far from a valid survey, and I phrased my question in a leading way, but my phrasing was an accurate statement of today’s status quo. I think that most people now understand that the age of 13, which was set back in 1998 when we didn’t know what the internet would become, is just too low, and it is not even enforced. When my kids started 6th grade in NYC public schools, they each told me that “everyone” was on Instagram.

We are now 11 years into the largest epidemic of adolescent mental illness ever recorded. I know so many families that have been thrown into fear and turmoil by a child’s suicide attempt. You probably do too, given that the recent CDC report tells us that one in ten adolescents now say they have made an attempt to kill themselves. It is hitting all political and demographic groups. The evidence is abundant that social media is a major cause of the epidemic, and perhaps the major cause. It's time we started treating social media and other apps designed for “engagement” (i.e., addiction) like alcohol, tobacco, and gambling, or, because they can harm society as well as their users, perhaps like automobiles and firearms. Adults should have wide latitude to make their own choices, but legislators and governors who care about mental health, women’s health, or children’s health need to step up.

It’s not enough to find more money for mental health services, although that is sorely needed. In addition, we must shut down the conveyer belt so that today’s toddlers will not suffer the same fate in twelve years. Congress should set a reasonable minimum age for minors to sign contracts and open accounts without explicit parental consent, and the age needs to be after teens have progressed most of the way through puberty. (The harm caused by social media seems to be greatest during puberty.) If Congress won’t do it then state legislatures should act. There are many ways to rapidly verify people’s ages online, and I’ll discuss age verification processes in a future post. 

In conclusion: All of Gen Z got more anxious and depressed after 2012. But Lukianoff’s reverse CBT hypothesis is the best explanation I have found for Why the mental health of liberal girls sank first and fastest.

[fannyrosie]

I've followed you for quite a while and I've always loved your style plus I lived vicariously through your life in Japan lol. I'm sorry if you've already posted this I couldn't find the post but I was wondering why you left Japan. It's my dream to live there one day and I was curious what it was like.

I have answered that in my Instagram Stories, but here is the long story version (TL;DR: I came back mainly because of my poor health):

I left Japan after 6 1/2 years for several reasons, but one the main reason is because of my health. I've never been the healthiest person, even before moving there (I was even dubbed "the sick one" at my old job because I often had to suddenly leave work in the afternoons). I was constantly tired and had really bad abdominal pains. I saw several doctors in Montreal, and all I managed to get was a diagnosis for IBS and anxiety. However, I was functional most days, and managed to work and live relatively normally, as long as I rested a lot and stuck to my FODMAP diet.

During the few first years of my life in Japan, my physical health remained that way, with some random very bad health periods, but overall, I was fine. I even started to workout regularly to improve my posture and muscles. However, from 2020 onwards, my health declined significantly. On top of my worsening IBS, I started having really bad spine pains, radiating to my head, chest and arms, and making me so tired I had to take several days of rest every time I went out. I started to catch every little virus I got in contact with, and had to avoid taking public transport the most I could. I was working from home, and walked a lot, so that was manageable, but it made me more isolated.

I saw several doctors, but even though they did blood tests and x-rays, they couldn't find anything and just assumed it was stress. After reading about EDS, I thought I might have that (since I am also hypermobile), and had to wait 7 months to get an appointment at Todai's hospital. However, on the day of my appointment, I got told that Todai only deals with EDS related to heart issues, and my tests were all normal, including my x-rays. That was in June 2022, and was the final straw, as it proved that even the most advanced hospital in Japan couldn't help me. By that time, I had to wear a back brace to do the most basic things, like laundry or going to the supermarket, and was taking painkillers every day. I had to stop working because I couldn't work on my computer for more than 2 hours a day. Obviously, no work=no money.

Coming back to Québec, I had to wait 3 months to get back on the public health system, and as of today (6 months after being back), I managed to get x-rays and MRI showing I have: discopathy (degenerative spine disk disease), osteoarthritis (degenerative joint disease), several herniated disks in my cervical region and pinched nerves due disks collapsing. Basically, I have the spine of a 70 year old. I have been referred to a physiatrist, but we all know that Québec's public health system is very slow. so God knows when I'll see one. Nevertheless, they found something, which is better than all the doctors in Japan who told me it was just stress. Japan sadly has a big culture of having to "endure" pain (mental or physical), and it shows in their medical system.

Due to the degenerative nature of the illnesses they found up to now, my health is constantly getting worse. I used to have good and bad health days, but now, I have more bad health days than good health days. I still take painkillers every day and wear my back brace to do normal tasks, but most days, these are not enough. I am trying to make the most of my "good" health days by dressing up and doing nice things, but I never know how I will be the next day (or hour).

I had to take two breaks writing this; hopefully it makes sense haha

[covid-safer-hotties]

Double trouble: Hypermobility may increase Long Covid risk - Published Aug 6, 2024

“For a middle-aged woman who hasn’t had any actual injuries, I’ve had a huge amount of physical therapy,” says Liza DiLeo Thomas, a 52-year-old emergency medicine doctor in New Orleans and mom to five kids. “My neck muscles were always weak, my knees were bad. In retrospect, I was actually hypermobile, I just didn’t realize it.”

Hypermobility is a catch-all term for a spectrum of disorders characterized by joints capable of moving beyond the normal range of motion, often due to abnormalities in connective tissue. The most common of these disorders, which range from mild to severe, is known as Hypermobile Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (HEDS).

HEDS seems to be more common in women and also may be connected to some cases of Long Covid. A recent study found that people with the condition were 30% more likely not to have recovered fully from Covid-19 infection, based on symptom surveys.

“I got my first Covid infection in March of 2020,” Thomas told The Sick Times. “After [my] second infection, I never recovered.”

Thomas has not been able to return to work in the ER. Worse still, her kids brought home more Covid-19 infections, and each reinfection over the course of the next three years triggered novel, debilitating symptoms, such as painful skin rashes and mild myelitis, an inflammation of the spinal cord. “I believe I’ve had Covid a total of five times,” she said.

In April 2021, she ended up at the office of Tulane University School of Medicine neurologist Michele Longo, who was helming a new Long Covid clinic. Longo and her colleagues have discovered that vulnerability to Long Covid may sometimes be linked to hypermobility.

Longo referred Thomas to multiple specialists, including Dr. Jacques Courseault, founder of Tulane’s specialty hypermobility clinic, launched in 2022. It is one of the few of its kind in the world. Collaboration between that clinic and Longo’s Long Covid clinic has yielded novel clues to the connection between the two conditions.

“The specialist at the clinic pushed along my iliotibial band and other parts of my leg,” recalled Thomas. “And he said, ‘Your muscle pain is not due to muscle damage. You’re hypermobile.’” Muscles will chronically contract to stabilize weak joints in hypermobile individuals, leading to chronic pain.

That insight gave clues to what might be off balance in Thomas’ body, and pointed the way for treatments that helped improve her function, including antihistamines, low-dose naltrexone, and lots of saltwater to help increase blood volume, as she was later diagnosed with dysautonomia and small fiber neuropathy. With her condition better managed, she now works part-time for the same hospital in an administrative role, mostly from home.

How a connective tissue disorder might increase risk of Long Covid Longo, the Tulane neurologist, is the kind of doctor who listens closely to her patients

“My migraine headaches brought me to neurology as a profession,” she told The Sick Times. “I’ve been living my whole life in that space of having a chronic condition that does not have a biomarker. That lends itself very well to believing my patients and empathizing with them.”

Early in the pandemic, she started seeing chronically ill individuals who were much younger than her typical patient, and who had not recovered from an acute Covid-19 case.

At her Long Covid clinic, she began to notice that some of her patients were hypermobile. She diagnosed them via the traditional Beighton scoring system — a simple in-office test which checks the flexibility of joints such as the fingers, elbows, knees, and spine. Then, she sent them over to the EDS clinic, where Courseault inevitably confirmed her suspicion. “Every patient I sent him was indeed hypermobile,” she said.

This past April, Longo and colleagues published a report on five hypermobile females with Long Covid aged 33 to 51. Once diagnosed and treated at the EDS clinic for common issues associated with hypermobility, they began to see some improvements. Longo and colleagues are now putting together a case series on fifty patients.

Read the rest at either link!

[whsprings]

when i think about my ed/mental illness history it's so hard to differentiate what treatments helped and what did nothing and what made things worse. my ed started in high school, but it wasn't that bad/I didn't do shit about it until 2019. that year I also moved across the ocean for 5 months and then across the country for another 3. and when I finally tried to get help I was repeatedly told I wasn't thin/sick enough to have an ed. when i did get someone to listen to me and got a formal dx, I was literally run over a week later and spent two weeks hospitalized with seven broken bones. which wasn't traumatic in the slightest 🙃 anyway i leave the hospital (and immediatly go back to school bc i am clinically insane) and get medicated for my mental health and start seeing a therapist/dietitian and my ed just. continuously gets worse. I finally get talked into doing ed iop and the week before i'm supposed to start the world shuts down because of covid. like I remember emailing my therapist in a panic bc I had no idea what I was supposed to do. and to the surprise of absolutely no one, my ed gets worse throughout iop and i end up in res etc etc.

after my second res stay I got put on pristiq and oh boyyyy that shit fucked me up. like uncontrollable emotional volatility, dramatic escalation in sh, my team thought I had bpd, and I came 👌 this close to an attempt.

there's a lot more to the story obviously but idk, was it all the extenuating life circumstances that led to my ed getting worse? was it getting medicated? was it seeing a treatment team and feeling like I needed to prove my sickness to them after being invalidated so many times? was it going to treatment and being around a bunch of other sick people and picking up new bx and ways of comparing myself? if I had never sought help would things have remained mostly manageable like in hs? or would my ed have gotten worse with time anyway? who knows not me!!

all this because I was thinking about being back on naltrexone for a few months (and how I initially fought it bc of the stigma around that particular med as it's usually prescribed to addicts) and coming to the unfortunate conclusion that it may actually be helping?? like sh has been wayyyyy down since starting the med again. but then again, last time I was on it it didn't do shit, so is it the med that helped or is it a better understanding of skills??

you see the problem??

[alittlextrathatway]

Line: "I close my eyes and the flashback starts." Location: hospital

This is not how Matt envisioned spending his first day home. He truly believed the worst was over now that he was back on Chicago’s hallowed ground. He and Sylvie made it through. They were together again and planning a life together. What could go wrong?

Everything. The answer is everything.

In all his time working for the CFD, he had never once heard of a bomb being mailed to anyone. But especially not a firehouse.

And now Sylvie is in the ER. He wasn’t at 51, he didn’t watch it happen, but he got a call from Stella afterward. She wasn’t sure of Sylvie’s condition. The scene was chaotic, she never saw her, but she knows she was loaded into an ambo and driven away.

Fear squeezes his heart like a vice. The waiting area is full of first responders, already wanting to know how to support 51. Thankfully, the bomb didn’t go off inside the firehouse or this could have been a lot worse. It’s all the comfort he can manage until he sets his eyes on Sylvie.

He storms through the waiting area and passes the double doors into the ED. Everyone else may be waiting patiently but he isn’t. His fiancée is through those doors. The mother of their newly adopted daughter is in danger. He’d take a sledge to the hospital wall to get to her if he had to. There’s no stopping him.

Maggie must have predicted he would barge in as he pleased because she’s waiting for him in front of the nurse’s station.

“Kidd said Sylvie’s—“

“She’s fine, Casey. She’s okay.”

“No offense, Maggie, but I’d like to judge that for myself.”

She points behind him to Trauma 3 and Matt hurriedly spins around. The flashback hits him with as much force as a halligan to the head. It takes him back to that day, years ago now, where she fell through the floor. The day he had to watch her cry through tears of physical pain. The day they lost Otis.

Because sitting on the hospital bed, feet dangling over the edge, is Sylvie. Her arm in a sling, her face covered in dust, and tears in her eyes. She looks small and scared but whole. Blessedly whole.

“Thank god,” Matt mutters, taking a deep breath as he steps into the small room.

“Matt!” Sylvie exclaims, throwing her good arm around him.

“Hey,” he says, pulling her as close as he can without jostling her arm. The same arm she broke in the Arnow collapse. “I’m here.” He leans back and frames her face with his hands, thumbs swiping at tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“That poor delivery driver,” she says, with a shaky inhale. She pauses to exhale, willing herself to calm down. “I don’t think it was supposed to happen that way, Matt. He picked up the package and turned to face the house and then…all of a sudden I was thrown into the back of the open ambo. My elbow slammed into the stretcher and now I’m here. God, it happened so fast I don’t even know if — oh god, how’s everyone else? Do you know? Have you talked to anyone?”

He closes his eyes, imagining all the ways today could have cost him everything, and then forces the images away. Right now, Sylvie needs him and panicking over how close he came to a life without her won’t help. He kisses her grimey forehead and then presses his against her temple, pressing her to his side.

“Just Stella. She didn’t know much either. The scene at 51 is chaos and she’s working with Boden to try and get a head count.”

Sylvie rubs her good hand across her forehead as she takes in the only new information he has. “Well,” she says meeting his eyes with a loud sniffle. “Welcome home, I guess. Some first day, huh?”

“Any day you’re with me is better than most,” he assures her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, relaxing into his arms. “God, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know if I could handle this without you.”

He’s glad he’s here too. He can’t imagine hearing about this from the other side of the country. Now, more than ever, he’s glad he came to his senses and proposed. From here on out, they’ll never have to deal with a crisis like this alone again. They’ll always figure it out. Together.

***

This is kinda based on some things I’ve seen and heard about 12x01 filming. As usual, I’m probably wrong lol.

Send me a Taylor Swift or Kelsea Ballerini lyric and location to my ask box! I’ll write you a Brettsey fic too! 💗

[kimberlyborelli]

My Story:

As a child I experienced already a lot.

September 2014: I started to visit a different school. I struggled with learning, my chronical sickness and bullying.

Winter 2014: I started to visit the social worker & counsler at school because my problems turned out worse. But sadly these counseling sessions weren't helpful at all. I had to visit a psychiatrist for further treatment. It was tried to fix my problems but sadly it wasn't helpful. I developed suicidal thoughts because I was that frustrated. The psychiatrist decided to try some medications. The psychiatrist explained. The first two weeks it could show some side effects. But two weeks after I took the first pill: I developed a serious rare side effect. My parents asked the psychiatrist but she just said: It will pass by soon. But the issue didn't passed by...It got worse.

Autumn 2015: I had a mental breakdown on my way to school. I was sent to a hospital by the ambulance and received tranquelizers to be more compliant. In the hospital I was in a strong delirium. A psychiatrist was talking to me and said: I should be sent to a therapeutic facility.

At the facility (third floor, the secluded ward): The bathrooms were locked. Everytime when someone had to use the bathroom we had to ask for permission and wait til it's unlocked. But often there were times where the staff refused to unlock the door. No makeup was allowed. Also there were some patients who were treated better. I wasn't allowed to have hair ties in my room. In both floors where I was spent my time there was the rule of Silence Time (stay in your room and remain silent). Also books were controlled. I spent the first days in solitary confinement (I was allowed to leave my room and talk to others after the isolation. But it was monitored about topics. When you critized the staff you got punished.) Shaving wasn't allowed. Deodorants weren't allowed. Questions/Suggestions were ignored by the staff. Once I had a short anxiety episode some of the staff made fun of me. The only right ting what they did: To stop my medications. At the third floor I didn't received any therapy (They told my parents I'm attending a program). The only situation where I had something therapy-related I'd got a questionaire. I also was told being too fat for having an ED. Well, I was underweight. I was once allowed to attend a group activity at the third floor. It was about crafting. After I left the room, one of the staff teared my crafting work apart and threw it away.

First floor, ward with "less stricter" rules: After over one week where I tried to behave. I was shifted to the first floor. I shared my room with a girl (and we became friends). Also the staff noticed that and weren't happy about that. We both were in seperate classes in school. The classes were more like: Just do something school related and try to look busy. We both had seperate therapy programs. In the "silence time" we were in our room together. But we just talked and didn't cared about the rule. One hour before bedtime you have to be in your room and remain silent to get ready for bed. We both had different bedtimes. But mostly I went with her in our room and we still chatted together during she got ready for bed. During bedtime we weren't allowed to talk. But we still talked to each other and we got scolded and punished once. The bathroom got locked next time. I was shifted to another room and I was forced to sleep on the floor. She was shifted to a single room and was in solitary confinement. At the first floor I received some therapy. The group therapy was very strange. We received a behavior diagram and it was used for behavior modification.

The Ending: At the end my parents got me out finally. The staff tried to sent me to another facility. My therapist told me and my parents were too overwhelmed and want to send me away. And to my parents he told: I don't want to see my parents anymore.

[azztiph]

Mobility aid slander

I recently got a mobility aid and I wanna talk about it a bit.

So I got very basic fore arm crutches, they like metallic hospital looking ones.

I have POTS EDS and rheumatoid arthritis

I have ra in my hands and feet so I was very worried when looking for mobility aids.

I know that with almost all of them they put pressure on your wrists

So far I have not been having much wrist pain from my crutches

Although its not all perfect some cons I've been are experiencing are

The handles hurt like hell to hold onto for rlly long periods of time (I recommend getting foam covers or grippy gloves)

Crutches make it VERY hard to open up doors

It is also really hard to carry stuff

When use them for a while it hurts my shoulders

because of my ra sometimes I need to decide which pain is worse and spare my hands by not using the crutches

ra in my hands makes it hard to grip the handles sometimes

If i'm not careful my elbows will hyper extend while I'm using them

Everyone on earth will ask you what happened to you when you start using them

If the crutches are not at the right settings for your body you will not be stable while using them

It is a nightmare to find places to put them when you are in class or on public transport or a restaurant

Ok now for things I like about them

They offer a lot of support for both sides of my body

waiting in lines has become something I can do without insane pain or feeling like I'm going to pass out

I have bad hips and these make walking hurt them less

There are a lot of different ways to walk with them

If I do not feel like using both I can just use one and it functions almost like a cane with extra arm support

The ones I have are very easy to adjust

If one of my feet is really bothering me I can use them like regular crutches and not put pressure on that foot

the cuffs add extra support that keeps my wrists from killing me

I can swing with them to go faster if I need to

The ones I have are shockingly lightweight

Thats all for now.

[thebookreader12345]

Too Close

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x reader

Summary: A dangerous call for Firehouse 51 leaves Y/n severely injured, but when she insists her boyfriend Crockett be the one to operate, and Goodwin refuses, things take a turn for the worse

Requested: No

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of severe injuries and surgery

Word Count: 1,420 Words

“You’re gonna be okay, Y/n,” Kelly assured me as they loaded me onto the stretcher so that Violet and Sylvie could do their work.

“I fell out of a third story window, Kel,” I remind him. “So I don’t really think I’m gonna be okay. I need you to call Crockett for me. My phone is on my seat in Truck 81. He’s on speed dial. Just tell him what happened so he’s not surprised when I’m brought to the ED.”

“Y/n, you’ve got a nasty break on your left arm,” Violet informed me. “We’re gonna have to put it in a sling so that we can safely transport you to Med. I’m warning you now, it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“Just do it,” I mutter. With one movement, Violet lifted up my arm and placed it in the sling, causing a wave of pain to roll over me. I cried out in pain, closing my eyes as the tears welled up.

“Sorry,” Violet apologized. “I promise, as soon as we get you into the ambo, I’ll give you some pain meds. Besides the arm, what else hurts the most.”

“My chest and stomach. It feels like someone is stepping on me,” I breathe out as another shockwave of pain hit me.

“That’s not good, is it?” Joe questioned.

“No. Not good at all,” Sylvie responded. “There could be internal bleeding, which means we’ve got to get her to Med right away. Lets get her in the ambo.”

“You’ll be all right, kid,” Herrmann told me. “Just hang in there.”

.....................................................

"Y/n!" Crockett shouted and ran over to my gurney as I was wheeled into the ED. "What the hell happened? I got a call from Severide saying you were hurt."

"I can't really talk. It hurts to breathe," I gasp out.

"Lets get her to a trauma room," Maggie advised and directed Sylvie and Violet to an open room.

"She was complaining of chest pain," Kelly revealed to Crockett. "Brett said that could mean internal bleeding. Is that right?"

"Yeah," Crockett confirmed as I was transferred to a bed. "But we can't be sure of anything until we run some tests. Y/n, darling, can you follow my finger for me?"

"I didn't hit my head. The way I fell, my air tank took most of the impact," I explain breathily. "Crockett, it's getting hard to breathe."

"All right. Lets get a chest x-ray!" Crockett called out. A man rolled the large device into my trauma room, and everyone took a step back. It only took a minute for the image to pop up on the screen, but when Crockett saw it, his brow creased. "You've got some nasty broken ribs. Looks like one of them punctured your lung. We're gonna need to repair that surgically."

"Crockett!" I exhale painfully, gasping for breath. "I c-can't.......my chest.......it hurts so bad."

"Y/n, we're gonna need to sedate you and put you on a ventilator so that we can get you up to surgery safely," Crockett disclosed.

"What? No! No surgery!" I insist. "Crockett, you know how I feel about hospitals."

"You need this, baby. I'm not gonna let you die," Crockett argued.

"Fine, but I have one condition. You have to be the one to operate," I instruct. "I only trust you."

"Goodwin won't allow that. You know she won't," Crockett spoke.

"Then convince her. Because I'm not getting that surgery unless you're the one to operate on me," I state.

Crockett's POV

"Hey," Herrmann greeted me as I stepped into the lobby. It seemed that all of Firehouse 51 was there to see how Y/n was doing. "What's the word, doc? Is our girl gonna be okay?"

"She's gonna need surgery," I declare. "One of her broken ribs punctured a lung, and she's also got some internal bleeding we need to repair. The thing is, she's being stubborn and will only have the surgery if I'm the one to perform it."

"Well, yeah. Y/n's afraid of hospitals," Cruz brought up. "She always has been. And you're her boyfriend, so she only trusts you."

"The thing is, Crockett can't do the surgery. Goodwin won't let him," Kelly put forth.

"Have you talked to Goodwin?" Stella quizzed.

"Not yet, no," I answer.

"Then go talk to her. You said it yourself, she needs this surgery," Violet pointed out. "So do it."

"It's not that simple, but I'm sure as hell not giving up. I'm going to go talk to Goodwin now," I admit. "I don't know how I'm gonna do it, but I'm gonna convince her to let me to the surgery. I don't care if it costs me my job. I'm not having my girlfriend die."

...................................................

"Absolutely not. You know our policies here. We can't have you operating on someone you have a relationship with," Ms. Goodwin reminded me. "You're too close to this case."

"I know the rules. I'm just asking you to reconsider them just this once," I request.

"Dr. Marcel," Ms. Goodwin started, only for me to cut her off.

"With all due respect, Ms. Goodwin, every second we stand here arguing is a second that Y/n is getting worse. And I'm not gonna let my girlfriend die because of some stupid policies!" I exclaim. "So you can suspect me or revoke my privileges if you want. Hell, you can even fire me. But nothing is gonna stop me from saving Y/n's life."

Y/n's POV

"Ugh," I groan groggily as I opened my eyes. "Why is it so bright in here?"

"Baby. Hey," Crockett breathed out as he entered the room, taking a seat in the chair next to my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. But that could be because you guys are pumping me full of painkillers," I note as Crockett's hand gravitated towards mine. "Did the surgery go well?"

"I would hope seeing as I was the one who did it," Crockett replied.

I smiled. "You convinced Goodwin to let you do it?"

"Not exactly. Lets just say I'm not exactly in Goodwin's good graces now," Crockett announced.

I frowned. "What? What do you mean?"

"She told me I couldn't do the surgery, but I wasn't gonna let you die, so I did it anyways. Her and the board are having a meeting right now to figure out what the next course of action should be," Crockett informed me.

"Crockett, if I knew you'd get in trouble, I wouldn't have insisted that you do the surgery," I confess.

"Hey. I don't regret a thing," Crockett claimed. "Seriously. You are my top priority. Not this hospital, and certainly not my job."

"Dr. Marcel," Ms. Goodwin summoned and entered my hospital. "May I have a word?"

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Y/n," Crockett said.

"Okay. I just got done meeting with the board. While what you did goes against our policies here at Med, you were doing what was asked of your patient. And while Y/n shouldn't have been under your care in the first place due to your relationship, the board agrees that you took the course of action you believed would save her life. And you did. So there will be no serious consequences for your actions," Ms. Goodwin revealed. "However, we will need to discuss some minor rules I will need you to follow for the next few weeks."

"Sure. Okay. Thank you, Sharon," Crockett exhaled.

"Don't thank me. Thank the board. As for you, Y/n, I'm glad you're feeling better. I hope you have a speedy recovery," Ms. Goodwin wished me before exiting the room.

"I love you. You know that, right?" I ask Crockett.

"I do," Crockett affirmed and leaned over to peck me on the lips. "And I love you too. Now, as much as I would love to hog you, all of 51 is still waiting in the lobby. They'd all like to see you if you're up for visitors."

"I'm probably a little high on painkillers right now, but who cares. After all, besides you, they are the only other people who have really seen me at my lowest, so seeing me loopy on meds is nothing. Send them in!" I chirp. "But once they're all gone, you're gonna go out and grab some takeout cause I am not eating any shitty hospital food."

Crockett laughed. "Of course. Only the best for you, darling. I'll get you whatever you want. Now, I'm gonna go grab them from the lobby. Sit tight and I'll be back shortly."

________________________

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