#it's not like antibiotics are 100% effective

[reasonsforhope]

"When bloodstream infections set in, fast treatment is crucial — but it can take several days to identify the bacteria responsible. A new, rapid-diagnosis sepsis test could cut down on the wait, reducing testing time from as much as a few days to about 13 hours by cutting out a lengthy blood culturing step, researchers report July 24 [2024] in Nature.

“They are pushing the limits of rapid diagnostics for bloodstream infections,” says Pak Kin Wong, a biomedical engineer at Penn State who was not involved in the research. “They are driving toward a direction that will dramatically improve the clinical management of bloodstream infections and sepsis.”

Sepsis — an immune system overreaction to an infection — is a life-threatening condition that strikes nearly 2 million people per year in the United States, killing more than 250,000 (SN: 5/18/08). The condition can also progress to septic shock, a steep drop in blood pressure that damages the kidneys, lungs, liver and other organs. It can be caused by a broad range of different bacteria, making species identification key for personalized treatment of each patient.

In conventional sepsis testing, the blood collected from the patient must first go through a daylong blood culturing step to grow more bacteria for detection. The sample then goes through a second culture for purification before undergoing testing to find the best treatment. During the two to three days required for testing, patients are placed on broad-spectrum antibiotics — a blunt tool designed to stave off a mystery infection that’s better treated by targeted antibiotics after figuring out the specific bacteria causing the infection.

Nanoengineer Tae Hyun Kim and colleagues found a way around the initial 24-hour blood culture.

The workaround starts by injecting a blood sample with nanoparticles decorated with a peptide designed to bind to a wide range of blood-borne pathogens. Magnets then pull out the nanoparticles, and the bound pathogens come with them. Those bacteria are sent directly to the pure culture. Thanks to this binding and sorting process, the bacteria can grow faster without extraneous components in the sample, like blood cells and the previously given broad-spectrum antibiotics, says Kim, of Seoul National University in South Korea.

Cutting out the initial blood culturing step also relies on a new imaging algorithm, Kim says. To test bacteria’s susceptibility to antibiotics, both are placed in the same environment, and scientists observe if and how the antibiotics stunt the bacteria’s growth or kill them. The team’s image detection algorithm can detect subtler changes than the human eye can. So it can identify the species and antibiotic susceptibility with far fewer bacteria cells than the conventional method, thereby reducing the need for long culture times to produce larger colonies.

Though the new method shows promise, Wong says, any new test carries a risk of false negatives, missing bacteria that are actually present in the bloodstream. That in turn can lead to not treating an active infection, and “undertreatment of bloodstream infection can be fatal,” he says. “While the classical blood culture technique is extremely slow, it is very effective in avoiding false negatives.”

Following their laboratory-based experiments, Kim and colleagues tested their new method clinically, running it in parallel with conventional sepsis testing on 190 hospital patients with suspected infections. The testing obtained a 100 percent match on correct bacterial species identification, the team reports. Though more clinical tests are needed, these accuracy results are encouraging so far, Kim says.

The team is continuing to refine their design in hopes of developing a fully automated sepsis blood test that can quickly produce results, even when hospital laboratories are closed overnight. “We really wanted to commercialize this and really make it happen so that we could make impacts to the patients,” Kim says."

-via Science News, July 24, 2024

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 2, day 23, one more day of work until VACATION!!!!!! It's my birthday on Tuesday so I took the whole week off XD

Tonight I've tried to make the face a little more animated (hah), which right now is mostly reflected in the nose and mouth. I'll work on the eyes and eyebrows later

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 17

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Ready for some feels? ❤️‍🩹

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, injuries, hurt/comfort and feels, tinge of spice.~

Part 17: “The Real Deal”

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

“She has carbon monoxide poisoning,” he said. Dean’s brows furrowed, but before he could start worrying too badly, Sam cut in again. “She’s okay. They’ve got her on 100% oxygen. Eileen and Andréa are with her right now.”

Dean nodded on a breath of relief, despite coughing himself. He still wore an oxygen mask, but he knew his exposure hadn’t been as bad as yours.

“CO poisoning’s no joke. Don’t let her take off that damn mask for anything until they clear her,” he said.

Sam raised a placating hand. “Don’t worry. She knows she’s got to stay put this time.”

Dean shook his head. You were so damn stubborn. He still couldn’t believe you’d dragged yourself out of bed within minutes of waking up, just to see him.

…Well, he could believe it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Okay, do you need anything before Eileen and I run home to get you guys some stuff?” Sam asked.

He’d already drawn up a list for both you and Dean of things you two would need for the next couple of days in the hospital. Dean’s stay would likely be longer than yours.

“Nah, I’m good, man,” Dean replied.

He was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed. His back couldn’t fully touch the mattress, so he had to lie on one side or the other. Truth be told, it sucked. His head swam with the effects of the painkillers and antibiotics they were pumping him with, along with his head injury.

While his body wanted to keep sleeping, Dean wanted to see you. He wanted to make sure you were all right. He wanted to know what happened before the fire, and how you’d found out about Nick being Azazel’s son.

And he wanted to get you both home.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to get to do any of those things, any time soon.  

Sam saw his discomfort and frowned in sympathy. He went over to help Dean shift onto his other side. Dean shot him a look of annoyance, but Sam was firm.

“Let me help, or I’m calling Nurse Jeff,” he warned.

Dean's lips pursed. Jeff was nice and all, but Dean could concede this time. At least when it was his brother helping him, he didn’t feel like a complete invalid.  

“Andréa’s gonna stay with her?” Dean asked, while Sam helped him ease over and nodded at his question.

“Yeah. Ellen and Jo are on the way too. They’ll keep you company.”

Dean wanted to quip that he didn’t need a babysitter, but he held it in. It would be nice to see Ellen. He remembered seeing his father, briefly, before he fell back asleep. Sam told him John had gone back to the precinct to work out their protective detail, once you and Dean were eventually discharged from the hospital.

Over the last few hours, the rest of his team from Firehouse 25 had come in to see him in small groups, including Benny, Gordon, and Jack, Meg and Chuck, and Bobby himself, with his gruff worrying. Dean knew the Chief felt responsible anytime his firefighters got hurt, but Dean also knew the only one to blame was himself.

Still, he didn’t regret breaking ranks to go and find you. He’d never regret that choice.

Sam’s hand on his shoulder grounded Dean back into reality.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” said Sam.

Dean nodded, with a hint of a smile. “All right, Sasquatch. Get goin’ then.”   

Sam’s face betrayed his dry amusement…and a hint of fondness. He squeezed the shoulder he held, and hesitated, almost like he was steadying himself before he left his brother alone.

“Hey,” Dean said. He gave his little brother a true smile, if one edged with tiredness. “I’m okay. I don’t break easy.”

After a moment, Sam nodded. His lips flickered at a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, clearing his throat. Before they both might’ve succumbed to a dreaded “chick flick moment,” as Dean called them, there was a knock at the door. Ellen’s head soon peeked through into the hospital room. She smiled as soon as her gaze landed on Sam and Dean.

“There’s my boys,” she said. Sam welcomed her in, along with Jo, before he slipped out. The Harvelles brought food, of course, for you and Dean. And Ellen had bought some flowers.

Dean took off his oxygen mask and teased her a little. “Ooh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Ellen shook her head at his familiar antics. Jo came up on his other side of his bed and gave him a softer smile than usual. He tried to return it.

“These are for your girl,” said Ellen. “How’s she doin’? Have you been able to see her?”

Dean’s good humor dimmed. “She’s got carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire, but Sam tells me she’s resting. I haven’t been able to get over there yet.”

Ellen frowned, but she nodded and rubbed his arm. “Okay, well you just stay here and rest. I’ll go over and bring these to her, make sure she’s doing all right. Then I’ll come back and give you a full report. How’s that?”

Dean met her gaze with relief and gratefulness in his. “Thanks, Ellen.”

She nodded, giving him a motherly pat on the cheek. Maybe her brown eyes welled up with tears she would refuse to shed. And maybe Dean pretended he didn’t see them, knowing how she’d hate for him to call her out.  

“You two are gonna be just fine,” she said. Dean agreed with a nod and a smile. She left soon after with the flowers, discreetly wiping at her face.

When the door shut behind her, Jo took a seat beside his bed. She was looking around at the wires, the monitors, the minor burns and scrapes on his face, while trying not to look at the gauze spanning his upper back.

“How’re you really feeling?” she asked eventually, when she was able to meet his gaze.

Dean chuckled a little. “Like shit.”

She laughed too, though it soon ended in tears. She bit her lip against it, with her eyes squeezing shut.

Dean faltered. “Hey, none a’ that.”

It was an effort, but he reached for her shoulder. She clasped his hand there, then she held it between both of hers. Dean squeezed her hands.

“I’m okay. Scouts honor,” he said. He wished he didn’t have to keep telling people that, but here they were.

When she drew his hand against her cheek though, Dean internally sighed. He had to pull away.

Jo felt the loss of his hand, and of him. She looked up at him with sad blue eyes. Dean couldn’t answer her. Or at least, he couldn’t give her the one she wanted.

She ducked her head and tried not to cry harder.

“Jo,” Dean sighed. “Listen to me.”

She wiped at her face and managed to look up at him again. He was direct, but still gentle as he could be.

“You know I love you like family,” he said, “but you also know…I can’t be that guy for you.”

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. “We had something, Dean.”

“We did,” he acknowledged. He could admit that much, even as he blew out a breath. “I fucked it up.”

At that, Jo’s face shifted towards resignation. “I did my fair share.”

“You were worried about me on the job, that’s all.”

“But you also didn’t fight for me. The second it got hard, you left and called it quits.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. He thought hard, and he nodded. He was a different man when he and Jo began. He hadn’t totally figured out what it was he wanted. He’d just known, instinctively, that it was different with her. He’d wanted to try to be more for her.

But, he’d let Ellen’s warnings and his own fears take over. He knew he’d been a coward, and at the time, he’d convinced himself that Jo was better off without that in her life. He knew now how that had just been a nice justification for breaking her heart.

“I know,” he repeated. “I guess I wasn’t ready for the real deal…but you’re the first one who made me want to try.”

Jo heaved a tremulous sigh, laced with tears that she brushed away from her face. She had already known it, deep down, but now she supposed she had closure. She knew now that he loved you, for real.

“And she’s the one who made it stick,” Jo supplied.

“Yeah,” Dean said. The truth was in his eyes. She’s the one.

After a moment, in which Jo locked away the rest of her heartbreak and denied herself a flash of jealousy, she wiped her face dry and looked up at Dean.  

“Then you rest up,” she said, with a small smile and red-rimmed eyes. “And whatever happens next, you better fight for her.”

Dean smiled back. He gestured at his prone form with a hand.

“And what do you think I’m doing here?”

“Looks to me like you’re sitting on your ass,” she quipped.

Dean laughed so hard he started coughing. Jo shook her head and helped him put his oxygen mask back on.

“God, you’re a mess,” she said.

Dean gave her a mock incredulous look. “Hey, no sympathy for the injured here?”

“If it was sympathy you wanted, you should’ve kept the mask on.”

Hours later, Sam and Eileen came back freshly showered and with plenty of clothes and necessities for you and Dean. And when his hospital room door opened, Dean fought through the haze of the drugs and his swimming head to wake up. He smiled at Eileen, who stepped through the door first. But then his eyes widened.

Sam carefully guided you in a wheelchair, with your oxygen tank rolling in next to you. You held the mask to your face, but Dean still spotted the edge of your smile.

Your eyes shone bright with unshed tears the closer you came. He had to clear his throat himself before he reached for your hand at the same time you held out for his.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean replied. He brought your hand to his lips and held it there. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay, thanks to you,” you said, smiling, even though your voice shook. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, and your face ducked down. “I’m so…so sorry.”

Dean frowned and squeezed your hand. “Don’t you do that. This isn’t on you.”

You shook your head, like you didn’t believe him. Or you didn’t want to believe.

He wasn’t having that.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. He tugged on your hand, until finally you did as he said. Your eyes were red and spilling over with tears. It made his heart clench, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sam holding Eileen close. Both of them were getting emotional, though Sam was trying not to. 

Jo stood with her mother in the corner. While Ellen dabbed at her eyes, Jo had to avert her gaze. That part, Dean didn't notice, because his lips pressed together as he returned his attention back to you.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he said. “I’ll shake this in a few weeks. Tops.”

You nodded, but your denial was still obvious as your shoulders trembled. He could see there was no reasoning with you on this one, so he just tugged you closer—as close as you could get without leaving your wheelchair or taking off your oxygen mask.

He managed to reach for your face, soothing his thumb across your tear-stained cheek. You covered his hand and kept him there, for as long as he was able.

You were discharged from the hospital a couple of days later. It was a few more before Dean was able to join you. He wasn’t happy to learn that his head injury would put him out of commission for at least one to three months.

You wished he would be more fair to himself. He’d suffered a subdural hematoma after he was struck by the beam. The doctor officially labelled it a TBI, or a concussion, and he was already dealing with headaches and bouts of vertigo.

Not to mention the large second-degree burn that was only just starting to heal across his upper back. The doctor also warned that he might suffer some mood swings, due to the head injury.

Meanwhile, you were starting to recover from your cuts and yellowing bruises. Though the carbon monoxide had been driven out of your system, you still had your own headaches, nausea, and a lingering cough.

You both were a bit of a mess. Sam and Eileen had incredible patience, and you were so grateful for their help in those first days back home in Sam and Dean’s apartment. However, you couldn’t shake off your nature to help as much as you could in taking care of Dean while Sam and Eileen were back at work.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to being catered to. He didn’t like being, what he deemed in his mind, “useless.” In your mind, that was just too damn bad. He was going to be cared for whether he liked it or not.

So you helped Dean adjust where he lied in bed for the third time this morning, arranging the pillows just so. All while you ignored his crabby mood.

“How’s that?” you asked, fluffing one more pillow between the small of his back and the headboard. You’d managed to find a way for him to sit up without his upper back touching the bedframe.

“Fine,” he said grumpily. He was channel surfing on the TV above his dresser. “And it was fine half an hour ago.” 

His mood was always dour after a shower; it meant you had to help him stand, and make sure he didn’t kill himself by slipping and falling. You sighed and brushed your fingers through his wet hair, mindful of the shaved and bandaged portion on the back of his head. He sure was an awful patient. 

“You used to like it when I joined you in the shower,” you tried to tease gently. He shot you a glance.

“Yeah, that was before I could barely piss standing up,” he replied. You rubbed his arm.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be like this. You’ll be healed up in a couple of months, and we can put this behind us,” you said. If he really wanted you not to feel guilty about his current state, then he was doing a bang-up job.

Dean turned to you then, and you understood the look on his face. Will it really be over?

You couldn’t fault him for it because you didn’t know the answer either. You both knew that Savage & Co. burning down was likely just another battle with Azazel, not the end of the war. 

And that was when John and Cas arrived for a visit, with the doorbell interrupting the silence. It was the first time they’d come together, and that told you one thing: this was more than a familial check-in.

You welcomed them into the apartment and made some coffee for everyone. Cas helped you get the mugs ready in the kitchen. Meanwhile, it gave John a moment with his son.

John dragged a desk chair over and sat by Dean’s side of the bed.

“How’s your head?” John asked.

Dean nodded, though his face said he wished people would stop asking him that.

“On the mend,” he replied instead.

John nodded in return. The space between them was awkward and quiet, except for the drone of the TV. Both men had their protective walls and their thoughts, but neither one was able to lower their guard.

When you and Cas came into the room with fresh coffee, it was a silent relief all around. You sat beside Dean in bed and handed him a mug of decaf. You might’ve claimed it was the real stuff, but Dean’s nose knew the difference; he didn’t play when it came to his coffee. Yet another reason why he hated being on these antibiotics. 

“So, let’s start from the beginning,” John said. He lowered his mug into his lap and looked straight at you. “What happened before the fire? Start from the very top of the day.”

You took in a deep breath and glanced at both Cas and Dean. Cas seemed encouraging, while Dean looked just as grave and interested as his father. 

You explained everything from the moment Marv came to give you his report, intended for Nick. You were going to just leave it with his assistant, but his office door had been open a crack, and you’d heard the voices within. You’d been curious enough to approach the door and listen in.

You recounted what you’d heard between Nick and the other man.

“We’re working together on this,” said Nick. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your eyes widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

Your eyes widened. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

You remembered going back to your office, just to find Nick Savage waiting for you.

Dean’s grip on the bedsheets tightened when you told that part of the story. You tried to spare the details, but there were some things you couldn’t avoid…

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser.

“After I…managed to get out of my office, that’s when I saw the smoke,” you said. Your voice became a tad more unsteady as the memories flit through your mind.

“It was chaos. People were getting trampled trying to get down the stairs…and when we saw the fire coming from below too, I barely made it out of the stairwell.”

You raised a slightly trembling hand to your mouth, but a warm hand slipped into yours, taking it from you. You met Dean’s furrowed brows and softened eyes.

“Come ‘ere,” he said quietly. You let him pull you towards him, against his side, and you blinked past the sting of tears.

“The rest you guys know,” you continued. “I couldn’t get out. Dean and his guys came and found me. He got hurt trying to get us out of there.”

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your arm in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead while you wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

“Did you see Nick at all after what happened in the office?” John asked.

You shook your head. “No. I hope he burned to a damn crisp.”

“He’s officially missing, but his body hasn’t yet been identified from the remains at the building site,” said Cas.

That sobered you. You knew there were many people who hadn’t made it out of the building in time. You just couldn’t fathom the kind of person who would intentionally set that fire, damn the costs.

“What about the other man he was talking to?” John asked. You shook your head, but you provided a detailed description of him, from what you could remember: tall and lean, graying short hair, a nasal sounding voice.

“Any other details you can remember? Anything at all. Could be something you saw or heard, or even smelled,” John pressed.

Your lips pursed. The stress alone of reliving all of this was giving you a headache, not to mention making your chest feel tight. Your reply was a bit more clipped than you intended.

“What, other than the part where I was fighting for my life?” you said. “I think I gave a pretty good statement of the events, Detective.”

John paused. His mouth firmed, but he watched you with more sympathetic eyes. Dean saw that his father was trying to ease up. He rubbed your back in comfort again.

“All right, it’s okay,” said Dean. “You did good.”

You glanced at him and took a small, steadying breath. You relaxed a bit and met John’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you said, with sincerity. “If I remember something else, I’ll let you know.”

John nodded.

“That’s all right. We’ve got enough to arrest Nick Savage on assault charges, once we find him.” He shared a brief look with Cas. “In the meantime, we’ve got a couple of guys stationed outside the apartment building here. They’ll keep an eye on things.”

You and Dean nodded; it was a relief, but also disconcerting to know the police were watching you. A chime on your phone soon distracted you though. You reached over for where it lay on your nightstand and read the reminder notification. You turned to Dean.

“Ready for your pain meds?” you asked him. You saw the answer in the tightness around his tired eyes. You rubbed a soothing hand on his thigh. “You should eat something first though. Want some of the soup Eileen made?”

Dean shrugged, making an unenthusiastic sound. Your head tilted as you considered him. Then, an idea struck you.

“Ooh, I could make you a grilled cheese on the side,” you offered in a tempting tone. Your leading smile was just enough to get Dean to smile back, if more reserved.

“Hmm?” you prompted. “Come on, three different cheeses on some buttery bread…”

His smile became more genuine. “Okay, sounds good.”

You nodded and pat his thigh once more. You looked up at the detectives.

“You guys want lunch?” you asked. John started to shake his head, but Dean cut in.

“Trust me, you want to get in on this,” he said. The promise of your cooking managed to cut through some of the haze of his pain and discomfort.

Cas conceded first, with a nod. Though he got up from where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed.

“I’ll help,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He soon followed you downstairs into the kitchen.

Again, it left father and son glancing at one another in silence. John was leaning elbows on his knees, hands folded. His lips drew upwards as he looked up at his eldest.

“Want some advice from an old man?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Dean replied.

John nodded, quirking a smile. “Hold onto that girl.”

A couple of weeks later, however, tensions were still running high. Dean was frustrated with his own inability, worsening with each bout of vertigo, and every time the pain in his skull necessitated a pill to cope with it. Part of it was also that he needed so much of your help when Sam was at work.

Every time Dean saw you cooking, cleaning, changing his bandages, reminding him to take his meds, helping him get around when he was feeling off…

He was grateful, more than you knew. He just couldn’t feel right about letting you do it all when he saw how tired you were. You were still healing up too. And he could only imagine how stressed you were after everything you’d been through in the past few weeks. Hell, in the past few months.

He felt guilty, and useless, and angry at how you’d gotten caught up in all this, and at Nick Savage and Azazel and everything in between.

So Dean now stewed in all of this while he sat watching mindless reruns of some dumbass show about fake ghost hunters, even though he was trying not to think of anything at all. Somehow he had nothing to do but think, even though the meds he was taking often made him want to crawl into bed and sleep.

You appeared from down the hall, looking and smelling like your nice floral soap after a shower, wearing nothing more than one of his old shirts. Your thighs were bare. Your hair was twisted up on top of your head, just asking to be taken down with a practiced hand. 

Dean liked the look of you.

Not that I can do anything about it, came a dull reminder.

You came around the couch with a roll of gauze and a medicated cream for his burns.

“Okay, Dean. Let’s go ahead and change the bandages,” you said, nodding at his back.

He was reluctant to move. He was finally somewhat comfortable sitting in the corner of the couch with a shit ton of pillows propped against his lower back. And he hadn’t told you this, but a headache had been building for the last hour. He’d been trying to wean himself off the pain meds.

“It can wait until Sam gets home,” he said. “Why don’t you relax? Take a nap or something.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Sam works late every night. Doesn’t it make more sense to get it over with now?”

“You see it would, if you hadn’t already done it yesterday,” Dean replied, with a dry edge to his tone.

You arched a brow at him. You'd re-bandaged the burn across his back yesterday morning. It was now late afternoon.

“The doctor said once a day,” you said. “You want to get an infection?”

The back of Dean’s head pulsed with pain. He gritted his teeth in trying to ignore it.

“You want to get off my back? Literally?” he snarked.

You frowned at him and set down the medical supplies. Your hands went to your hips as you looked down at him.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude,” you said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I get that, but you don’t have to take care of me right now,” he said. “You can just let me watch this shitty-ass show in peace.”

Your brows knitted together. Both of you were stubborn, if in different flavors. You tried to come at it with a gentler approach, drawing near him to set a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but you can’t change your bandages by yourself,” you said. Your thumb swept along his neck. You really hated seeing him in so much discomfort. “Don’t you want to get it over with so you can relax for the rest of the day?”

A sharper pain pulsed behind his eyes for a moment, making Dean take in a deeper breath through his nose. He could later admit, he lost patience with you (and his temper).

He turned off the TV and tossed down the remote.

“What is this compulsive need you have to control everything? Do everything?” he snapped. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t need you to wipe my ass! Just give it a goddamn rest!”

Irritation was hot under his skin…until he actually looked up at your face. The open-mouthed look of shock, and hurt, your eyes welling up with tears as your hand fell away from his shoulder…

That’s when Dean knew this concussion was fucking with him.

There was no way he could be this much of an asshole, could he?

“Shit. Baby,” he tried, but you shook your head at him, making a negative sound when he reached for you. You walked away from him.

“Hold on!” said Dean. His first attempt to get off the couch was unsuccessful, and it made his head swim.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He grimaced in annoyance, but he used the couch and the coffee table as leverage and pushed through onto his feet.

Once he knew he was steady, he thought he heard you in the kitchen. He found you there, trying to hide your face behind the open door of the pantry while you cried. It broke his heart, really.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. His hand rested on your back, prompting you to look up at him with red, watery eyes.

“What now?” you asked. “Want to yell at me some more?”

Dean’s sad frown deepened as he tugged you closer, guiding you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I don’t know where the hell that came from.” 

Maybe the knife stabbing through the back of your head, 'cause you're too stubborn to take all your damn meds, came the dry edge of his conscience.

You held onto him as tightly as you dared while you pressed your tear-stained face into his chest.

“That wasn’t you, Dean,” you said. “I get that you’re in pain, and that you're frustrated, but you don’t have to white-knuckle it. Or take it out on me, for that matter.”

“…I know,” he agreed, laying a kiss on your forehead. “If it happens again, I give you full permission to slap me. Concussion be damned.”

You snorted at that, despite a couple more tears slipping down your cheeks. You wiped them away.

“I know I was being a bit pushy,” you said, with a sigh. “But Sam does work late. I’d feel like shit just lying around here waiting for him to help you. And I’m the reason this all happened anyway, so I might as well—”

“Wait. Stop,” Dean said. He pulled away so he could grasp your arms and look down at you. His brows furrowed, and his jaw worked. “What did you just say?”

You looked up at him, and he saw the vulnerability in your eyes. Your lips pressed together, and you averted your gaze.

“No,” he said, curling his fingers under your chin and lifting your face back up to his. He didn’t like what he saw.

“Okay. Sit with me,” he said. He guided you to the dining table, where he pulled out both chairs. After you sat, he raised a waiting finger to you, just so he could grab his prescription from the kitchen counter and down what should've been his morning dose of pain medication with some water. Then he returned to the table and sat across from you.

By the time he got you to look at him again, your eyes were already filled with tears. He took your hands in both of his.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault,” Dean said at last. He’d said it before, but apparently it hadn’t gotten through your head.

“You disobeyed a direct order to find me,” you argued. 

“I would’ve gotten called to that fire no matter what,” Dean countered. Still, that didn’t seem to sway you.

“You don’t know what it was like,” you said. You squeezed his hands, and your voice shook. “When I saw you in the ICU…”

All those wires, the newly wrapped burns, the oxygen mask, his skin pale and clammy, and his eyes closed…

“Before you got to me, of course I was scared. For a minute there, I thought I was going to die,” you managed to say. His hold tightened on yours. “But in that room, it was…it was different. It was you, but it was also my grandfather all over again. And I was so damn afraid.”

After that confession, you crumbled once again.

Dean slid his chair forward and held you close. His fingers swept through your hair after taking down your haphazard bun. He managed to pull you into his lap and he shushed you gently.

He glanced up heavenward and actually asked George for the right thing to say to you right now, because he had no damn clue.

After a moment, he released a humorless chuckle.

“You wanna know fear?” he said. “When my dad told me what you’d found out about Nick. And when I got the call that the building was on fire, somehow, I knew you were still in there.”

His fingers brushed along the shallow cut above your brow that was still healing.

“You had to deal with that bastard by yourself. That alone pretty much kills me,” Dean admitted. “And if I hadn’t gotten to you when I did…I’ll never regret that. Ever. I’ll take the whole damn building on top of me if that’s what it takes.”

You leaned back and shook your head at him, but he took your chin between his fingers and stilled you.   

“But I told you,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes met his before you let out a shaky breath. Maybe this time you would believe him.

He leaned down and kissed you soundly, so you’d get the idea. Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and you moaned when his tongue caressed yours. His hand tightened on your hip.

“Dean.” Your warning was gentle. The doctor hadn’t cleared this yet for him, and he knew it.

“Just a little bit,” he said, smiling against your lips. His hand slipped under your (his) shirt and teased the edge of your panties.

You sighed with conflicting need when you felt the pads of his fingers stroke you through the fabric. It also stroked your arousal back to life.

“Okay, bedroom,” you caved. “But go easy. I’m serious, Dean.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be easy.”

AN: Lol trust Dean to push his limits there. 😅 We also got some closure on the Jo & Dean arc, some supportive Sam and Eileen, and some major feels.

In Part 18, Sam and John work together to try and pin down Nick and Daniel/Azazel, Law & Order style...

Next Time:

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charges are murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied.

Keep Reading: PART 18

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[a-s-fischer]

One of the things that I really wish more people knew about bubonic plague* is that not everybody who got it before antibiotics died. Like your odds were not good. You had a better than fifty percent chance of dying. But you had around a one in four to one in three chance of living. For you, an individual with the plague, this is bad. I hope your will is up to date and you have made your peace with the divine.

But on a societal level after a plague epidemic, there were going to be a lot of people who had gotten the plague and survived. And plague frequently did not leave its victims unscathed. Plague often left its survivors with severe medical problems, including neurological problems. So in the aftermath of a large epidemic of plague, you are going to have a society that is suddenly much smaller, full of people who have boatloads of trauma, and suddenly with a much higher proportion of people with disabilities. And I'm not sure why but when I see discussions of the societal effects of plague epidemics in the Medieval and Early Modern periods, I rarely see that last one discussed. I think, however, it was probably pretty important to the experience of the plague and its aftermath.

*I am talking specifically about bubonic plague. Plague comes in three forms, all caused by the bacteria Y. pestis. The other two forms of plague, pneumonic, and septisemic had 100% or near 100% mortality rates before modern medicine.

[honeysorwell]

Two hearts can fix everything 

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x fem!Reader 

Word Count: 1,3k

Tag list: @paulsonix​​ @d14n4ol​​ @harknspet​ @strawberryshorttcakkee and if any of you want to be added just let me know!

Summary: Wilhemina Venable. A strange name, but one that has never caused a stir in the redhead's life. However, when a new coffee shop opens near Kineros Robotics, her unusual name is what brings Wilhemina and Y/N together. Charmed by Y/N's sweet smile, Wilhemina doesn't have the courage to correct the barista when she spells her name wrong every time the redhead orders a coffee and, as time goes by, a feeling grows in Wilhemina's heart and she is tempted to almost add an I and an L to her register.

But one day, this little misunderstanding has to end.

A/N: Hello! i'm back with something new! 

fuck… I miss good fanfiction, so I got inspired and finally fell ok with writing again for this social network after all this time, and nothing better than writing about this pretty redhead who lives in our hearts... 

I have in mind five chapters to this fanfic (to be really specific), but if you all like this I can extend the fanfic to 7 or 8 chapters, just like I did with (a very unprofessional) game changer . 

As I said last time, English is not my first language so something might sound strange, but as always, I did my best.

Anyway this is basically a coffee shop au (mix w 5 times +1) were the cute barista keeps mispelling the other persons name but it's been too long now so the person don't even know how to tell them that without it being 100% awkward BUT happy ending included! And they are cute!! 

Enjoy!

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 1

The first time that it happened, Wilhemina was supposed to go home after a really long day of work, because she couldn't be more irritated on a Monday. Jeff and Mutt started the week smelling like cheap booze and both extremely tipsy, stumbling between the rooms of Kineros Robotics while laughing for no reason at all. Even though the redhead knows that their brains are absolutely useless for anything, she still finds herself getting irritated by their lack of professionalism. And this irritability gives her a headache right away.

The redhead took an antibiotic for the pain, even though her back wasn't bothering her, silently and uselessly wishing that the relaxing medicinal effect would be directed at the throbbing pain in the middle of her forehead. Her primary instinct is to simply get into her car and go home, but as she leaves the building where she works, a sign shines in the sunset across the street and consequently catches Wilhemina's attention.

The sign had been ready for a few days now, full of green plants and eye-catching flowers to the point that the redhead believed it was a flower shop. But now it is clear, thanks to the colorful and festive letters that basically scream “Gardenhouse Coffee”, that it is a coffee shop.

And the redhead simply knows that she will not like it there.

Wilhemina can see, just through the ornate glass of the colored windows, that this is not the kind of place she frequents. It is a mix of shades of green, yellow, purple, pink and blue that contaminate the redhead's vision. She knows that she cannot call it ugly, because even though it is confusing it does not seem ugly. It is just not for her. Definitely not for her.

But when the redhead's headache worsens, as a reminder of her current situation, Wilhemina imagines that, perhaps, there is no harm in visiting the place. After all, the cause of her headache could be the lack of coffee in her day. It made sense since she did not drink coffee in the morning and also did not stop her work for it at any time during the day.

And suddenly, getting rid of this pain quickly turns out so important to Venable that she crosses the street and enters the coffee shop right away.

The inside is not as bad as the facade. There are wooden tables with several plants in different colors, but with green and brown staying everything seems to make more sense. The place is busy, but everyone is already seated at their respective tables and engaged in parallel conversations, and knowing that she doesn't have to wait for anyone to place her order or stand under the gaze of strangers while waiting for a measly coffee makes Wilhemina calmer.

The coffee shop is not as small as Wilhemina imagined looking from the outside, and part of the redhead is surprised to discover that only one woman works there. She wears a light brown apron with some plants printed on it, as well as the name of the coffee shop and a name tag.

Y/N.

The name is written clearly, in a size acceptable to be seen from a distance and with beautiful handwriting. But what really catches Wilhemina's attention is her face. Y/N has bright eyes and a smile that seems to shine in the middle of the coffee shop, as if she were a being oblivious to all the evils of the world. And Wilhemina almost gets scared when her eyes shine with a kind of natural affection directly in her direction.

“Hello, welcome to Gardenhouse Coffee! How can I help you?”, her voice is also soft, full of joy and Wilhemina can’t decide if she likes it or not.

“Just the menu.”, the redhead didn’t mean to, but her voice came out less inviting than she anticipated.

“Here. Just let me know if you need anything, or if something on the menu is confusing.”

“I believe I can find myself on a sheet of paper. Thank you.”

Y/N doesn’t answer her, just nods and focuses her gaze on her own counter, as if looking for something to do besides looking at the redhead. When Venable focuses her gaze on the menu, she notices that the names are absurd. Full of lame puns, or ingredients that are not very inviting to her, and Wilhemina has absolutely no time for any of that, especially when her head starts to hurt again. So, she doesn't bother to look at the entire menu to turn her attention to the waitress in front of her.

"I'll just have a strong coffee, medium size. Black, no sugar or anything else.", as the words slip past her lips, Wilhemina slides the menu to the counter again, and as she does so she can see that Y/N notices that she is not available for any silly conversation in the middle of this sale, and the redhead feels grateful for that since her head continues to hurt more and more with each second.

"It's on its way! What's your name?", the waitress's smile is there again, but the question confuses Wilhemina.

Why does she want Wilhemina's name if she is the only one inn line there waiting for a coffee? And honestly, a simple, regular coffee doesn't take long to make so there's no chance that Y/N will forget what to do or to who it is directed before it is ready.

The redhead thinks about being unpleasant and asking questions in a loud and clear tone for everyone to hear, questioning the attendant's IQ until the incessant smile disappears from her face, but her head is about to throb without pause so Wilhemina just answers quickly before watching Y/N work.

"Venable. Wilhemina Venable."

Maybe it would be better for her back to just sit down, because the idea of ​​the pain in the center of her forehead being accompanied by a much more unpleasant one in the middle of her spine made her saliva taste bitter. But sitting carefully in chairs that seem too low, and then having to get up to leave with the same care, both to avoid hurting herself and to avoid attracting curious looks, is so exhausting that perhaps the first option is actually the best on a comparative scale.

It's official, she prefers to stand and only sit down when she is really comfortable and without pitying looks on her, in her car.

Trying to use the time she has in a profitable way, the redhead takes her wallet out of her bag and then her card, but as soon as she looks up, she sees Y/N writing something down in a cup filled with a dark liquid that Wilhemina could swear is hers.

It really was fast.

The cup is handed to her with a sweet smile, and Wilhemina almost feels obliged to mirror it, even if it was with a slight robotic lift of her lips, but then she sees it.

Wilhielmina.

At another time, Venable would have stared at the striking and beautiful line of the barista's handwriting on the glass, or even the two drawn hearts that accompanied it, but the error in her name screams so loudly in her ears that she can barely think of anything else while staring at the hot drink.

If the redhead were living an ordinary day, her first reaction would be to complain to the person in charge and ask the bright-eyed barista if she was illiterate. After all: an I and an L, really?

But her head hurt so much, her body was really tired and crying out for a shower, and her knees were now tired of supporting her weight.

Wilhemina really just wanted to go home. And so the redhead just grabbed the cup and gave the barista a polite nod before heading out of that rainbow-shaped nightmare, not caring if Y/N had said a word to her.

After all, Wilhemina wouldn't go back there.

The coffee must be bad, so she doesn't care if her name is spelled wrong.

She wouldn't go back there anyway.

[lostmyremembrall]

Hogwarts Legacy Accurate to Victorian Era Pt. 2

Thank you so so much for the lovely response to my first one! I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. This was just supposed to be a one-off, but here is part 2!

Read Pt. 1 !

Warning for brief mentions of: Dissection. Gore. Sex and lust. Antiquated ideas. Cannibalism. All the good stuff.

Simple Solution for an Injury

Complex injury? Amputate it!

No Anesthesia. No antibiotics.

Have fun going into shock from the pain.

Survived the surgery? Have fun with the post-surgery infection.

Ominis taking one glance at Sebastian's broken leg.

Ominis: "Lose the leg."

Sebastian: "Wait, no. Hold on, we can just use episkey-"

MC: *already raising an axe with a psychotic grin*

MC: "Sorry, Sebastian. Your lovely leg will be sorely missed!"

Cereal for Proper Gentlemen

Cereal is just becoming popularised, more so in America.

Most importantly, it's considered a proper thing to eat for gentlemen since, apparently, it has the effect of keeping your urges at bay.

Sebastian and Garreth always feel they need cereal to keep themselves in check. So they usually begin their day by eating two full bowls of cereal.

Ominis and Amit would eat cereal once in a while.

But strangely, when you sit next to them, you find them reaching for a box of cereal and burying their heads into the bowl, refusing to meet your eyes and their cheeks bright red.

We Party Like It's 1890

Victorians loved the macabre and the exoticism. The best parties were considered the dissection of Egyptian mummies.

Garreth Weasley, knows how to party.

And also happens to know a man who can get him an Egyptian mummy.

The whole school erupts into an excited buzz when they hear of a party being held by Weasley.

How he manages to afford an Egyptian mummy at such a great price, you ask?

If you ask Garreth, he'd say it's thanks to his winning charm.

If you ask Ominis, it's because he's being swindled with some "third-rate corpse dug somewhere from Whitechapel."

Having attended a few of those parties himself back home, Ominis apparently can tell the difference between a real mummy vs. a fabricated one.

----

Garreth Weasley rolls up his sleeves, and dramatically flourishes his wand to begin the demonstration.

But, contrary to his boasting, he is quite shit with anatomy and maintaining steady hands.

Amit Thakkar is driven mad to no end at these parties, though he always comes begrudgingly.

He chooses to come because Garreth will literally drag Amit to his party.

But also because Amit naively believes every time that he might be able to teach Garreth a thing or two about anatomy.

Garreth has not failed to disappoint Amit every time so far.

"Agh, Garreth! You've spliced the superior vena cava!"

"Patience now, Amit. A delicate artform such as this takes great skill and control of one's wand-"

Garreth's hand slips, proceeding to stab the heart with the tip of his wand.

"Ah. Shit... Well. That's that."

"No matter." As Garreth wipes his wand on a tablecloth. "Now who wants to try my newest butterbeer!?"

That is usually when the party comes to an abrupt end as everyone rushes to the door.

Cure for All: Egyptian Mummies

Victorians engaging in straight-up Cannibalism

Ground-up mummies from Egypt are sold as a cure for all.

Sebastian, unfortunately, hears this rumour.

The next day, he's selling it in the corridor as a "Miracle Powder: 100% High-Quality Egyptian Mummies - Straight from the Tomb of Pharaohs"

Anne is in on it.

The local population of Inferi have significantly dwindled ever since.

But soon enough, not even Inferi are enough for his demanding supply.

There have been recent headlines in the Daily Prophet of the alarming number of grave robberies. Wizards. Goblins. House-elves. No one is safe.

Ominis: "Really, Sebastian? Grave robbing?"

Sebastian: "It's called procuring the merchandise, Ominis. Clearly, something you don't understand as someone who hadn't had to work a day of his life."

Sebastian boasting about his knack for business.

One night, Sebastian shows up in front of you with two shovels on his shoulders.

MC: "Grave robbing?"

Sebastian: "Grave robbing."

MC: "Should we dig up Uncle Solomon?"

Sebastian, taking way too long to consider: "... Nah. Anne would kill me for it."

MC: "At least that would get us two bodies."

The Beginning of a Business Relation with Garreth

There was one time when Prof Weasley got suspicious of Garreth’s outlandish plans, leaving him unable to retrieve the entertainment for the party that he’d already planned.

"Come on, Sallow. My reputation is at stake."

"Word tells me you can fetch me a mummy, yes?"

Sebastian, being the savvy businessman that he is, strokes his chin.

"I can. But it will cost you."

The whole school will remember that horrendous night, when the mummy mysteriously came back to life, and began attacking the students, the whole room erupting into chaos.

"It's the Pharaoh's Curse!" Duncan Hobhouse wails. "I knew I should've never come!"

Ominis growls about Duncan always complaining, and being too much of a coward to do anything.

Ominis: "Perhaps we sacrifice Puffskein Dunkein to the mummy. We’d feign an accident off school grounds. Nobody needs to know."

"I have it all under control," Sebastian shouts to Garreth.

As he continues to blast Confringo non-stop at the inferi in mid-panic.

----

To support Sebastian's growing business, you are in charge of harvesting Inferi and bodies for Sebastian. But Garreth is in charge of the processing.

Ever since the fiasco at the party, Garreth forgave Sebastian and joined in to assist with the processing part.

Garreth says he’s forgiven Sebastian. But he now takes 55% of the cut.

These days, you can find the two in the Undercroft, testing out the newest solution.

The Mad Scientist and The Merchant of Death.

Round goggles. Rolled up sleeves.

A thick pungent smell of whatever solution Garreth came up to quicken the mummification process.

How lovely.

Ominis is not happy.

----

If MC is extremely progressive, they'd disapprove of mummy dissection parties and comment to Garreth about the colonial mindset behind parties like this.

For weeks, Garreth is depressed and remorseful.

From then on, the Egyptian Mummy is replaced with a fake from Sallows, Co.

Ugliness

Victorians believed that loveless marriage and sex led to their children being born ugly.

Sebastian loves taunting Leander Prewett along this line of thought.

"Hey Prewett, guess where I was last night?"

Leander rolls his eyes. "Let me guess. My mother's?"

"You're quick this morning, I see. Your mother told me she's never loved your father."

Leander grows bright red, glaring. "Don't you dare, Sallow."

Sebastian with a smirk: "Solved at least one mystery. The reason why you look like a leper."

Leander explodes, warranting Sebastian a number of hexes and detention for both of them.

Source:

-The Astonishingly Slow Progress Towards Surgical Anesthesia -What People Ate to Survive the Victorian Era -Mummy Parties -The Gruesome History of Eating Corpses as Medicine

[hypermascbishounen]

So around the end of October last year, I managed to scratch my eye with plastic fibers while putting on a costume wig(ruining my plans for colored contacts). Turns out that if your eye gets a surface abrasion in just the right way, it can chronically reopen by sticking to your own eyelid as it heals. This sucks.

Now, the wig was just for a generic vampire costume, but, it was absolutely Juste Belmont's hair, lol. I had gotten back into Castlevania, and recently completed Harmony of Dissonance. I also carved a Juste pumpkin, which you can see if you search for it in my blog. I figured that while I didn't have the time/money for a cosplay, I could put the wig towards one in the future.

The eye scratch has remained a reopening pain in the face for almost an entire year. I have been using special eye drops and ointments, visiting the eye dr almost every month since, and the last two weeks I had a contact bandaged placed while aggressively applying antibiotics and lubricating drops. I just went to the dr today, to have the bandage removed, and check the healing.

While looking at my injured eye (which according to the dr appears healed but still irritated), he found the first sign of a rare, and typically asymptomatic eye disease, that can cause blindness. Because i've been going to the eye dr every single month, he had consistent data to notice a small jump in pressure and the barest visual start of the disease onset. It has absolutely nothing to do with the eye scratch.

(TIL the pigment on the back of your iris can flake off like cheap paint and start clogging your eye drains, until you effectively develop glaucoma, and the intraocular pressure build up starts destroying your optic nerve. We do not know why this happens lol)

But bc he literally caught it instantly, all that happens is I get regularly monitored for progression, and if/when it starts they can do a small outpatient procedure that heat lasers my eye drains into being wide enough for pigment to pass through. I probably won't even need eye drops.

This has put me in the surreal position of "Wow, good thing I had an unhealing eye scratch from a cosplay injury for a whole year, or I would have literally gone blind."

(I 100% wouldn't notice my mildly shitty vision getting worse until it was already too late lol)

In conclusion, hyperfixating on Castlevania saved my eyesight, and my guardian angel probably looks like either Juste Belmont, or Maxim Kischine hitting me in the face.

[shmowder]

It's 5 am (.... don't even ask, this certainly isn't the first time and it won't be the last 😅) so there isn't going to be a lot of substance here but PLAGUE DOCTOR READER HELL YES I am once again saying your knowledge of herbs is immense and your beak is huge. Even orderly reader could be something. They'd still get the cool bird costume!

"The herbbride x reader was because I wanted to smooch a herb bride pls let pls :"(((" Pathologic dating sim when!!!!

I think you have a point about detailed readers, and I'm not just saying that ^^ Especially in a longer fic, having a specific job and/or background can definitely help build the story and anchor the reader to the universe. The real problem for me arises when the reader's personality is well-defined for no reason (for instance, if the prompt is specifically about shy reader or bratty reader). Like I was once reading this random set of general headcanons and the reader was bold and sassy and rebellious and I was like who tf is this person. The more I attempt to describe this issue the more I realize it might just be a me problem :o)

Stopppp no bc I also thought the Big Vlad comment was kinda 👀 Then again, he called me a gullible kid in the same breath. Which is kind of accurate so I don't really mind.

Man that concept art of the Stamatins is cool. Andrey's animal being a shark is perfect; so is Capella+butterfly and Maria+cobra.

-

It makes me really happy to hear that these conversations are making the game more fun! I feel lucky to have found your blog, too. <3

Some random stuff I've been thinking about your BG3 blog for a few days, since I had another look at it recently. First of all the drabbles masterlist?? Holy shit you've written so much, it's amazing! I had only checked out your "my works" link before. Crybaby Tav my kindred spirit. And I'm obsessed with how organized everything is.

Your OC Sol is stunning!! I think it's so cute that you even have a section dedicated to other people's OCs. I've been trying on and off for a while to perfect my OC using the Sims 4. My favorite thing about the Sims 4 is as soon as I open the game I immediately forget what a human face is supposed to look like. Still, it's fun even though I'm not 100% satisfied yet.

🐿️ anon

or

Plague doctor Reader after some surgeon's grass potions are more effective at combating the plague than the leeches you've been administrating to the sick:

(they were expensive leeches) (it was your last jar too)

The fun a plague doctor reader would have in pathologic, it is literally plague utopia, isn't it? Daniil having to come to terms that someone like you holds the same authority and prestigious standing as someone like his will never not be hilarious.

Also, the mental image of plague-doctor!reader being"I'm a healer.... but" *relaods shotgun*

would the leeches work? theoretically they should since it was the earth blood which cured the illness. Which annoys Daniil even more that your barbaric and outdated methods are more effective than his pharmaceutical antibiotics but they're still less effective than Artemy's tinctures.

The executors or orderlies follow after the reader instead of the bachelor, akin to a bunch of small chicks trailing after their mother hen.

Daniil is mean and yells a lot. You're nice. They'd rather follow your orders instead.

Also the whole gothic look? The long beak, the anonymity of the mask, the black coat and gloves. It's just so intriguing, rumours about how you must look like under the mask keep spreading through out the town and people are getting more and more curious.

you're like a doctor doctor, not a philosophy doctor like Daniil or a priest surgeon like Artemy. You aren't afraid to go to extreme measures to cure this plague which is clearly the work of the devil. Carrying viles of acid around and managing to makeshift a small lab to conduct your experiments in, making various concoctions and trying them out on the helpless paitents. Some work, others melt their eyes off, it's still a work in progress.

-

About the Bg3 blog. lmao yeah I wrote so much, i even made some original characters like the loser high elf for the human kink thing. It was an amazing time, I hope i stay in the pathologic fandom for just as long and leave a similar legacy behind.

Thank you so much! Sol is my first ever OC, i love them more than the sun <3 I wanted to make an irredeemable unlovable character and shower them with absolute love and adoration.

Oh god crybaby!tav. Those were the good times. Like sure I enjoy being a strong and capable reader, but sometimes a reader who's helpless as a kitten and constantly tears up at the slightest misfortune is just so fun to write!

Clinging to whoever comes to save you, relying on them to solve your problems. Continously making bad choices or tripping, endangering yourself without realising it because you're just so oblivious and they need to rush in and immediately whisk you away because you just can't function on your own.

Keeping you under watch constantly. You're too air headed to realise how dire the situation is, too naive and trusting.

A reader like that would make Daniil's hair sprout grey, frustrating him endlessly as he has to urgently drop his responsibilities and run across the town because you wandered too far into the steppe to pick pretty flowers and now you're lost, cold and confused and sleezy men won't stop eyeing you.

Or an Artemy that doesn't believe it when you actually sat on his lap after he threw a teasing remark that you look like a lost pet sitting alone at the bar. Who is concerned that you're so willing to trust this hulking gaint surgeon who could break you in half. Who's brain can't function because you keep fidgeting on his lap, unawarly pressing yourself against him.

Alexander Saburov might just be the most fun out of these bunch to have a crybaby reader running to him at every minor problem or inconvenience. He's cooing at you while wiping your tears, asking what's wrong? He'll make it right, you're safe with him. His ego tiples in size the more you cling to his arm when walking in dangerous areas, his back straightness more as you refuse the help from any other person but him, even telling Victor Kain himself to not get near you because he scares you while hugging Alexander instead.

You'd send Yulia into an early grave, everyday is an almost heart attack with that woman who's trying her best. No matter how many lectures on safety or being independent she gives you, her words are too big for your brain and you zone out halfway through. Thinking that the worried expression on her face is super adorable, interrupting her speech with a kiss and making a fuse blow in her brain as she immediately forgets what she was speaking about. The usually collected Yulia, flustered and stuttering as you ask for more kisses.

-

Your comment about playing the sims made me actually choke with laughter I cannot coahxoqjkdkq I feel you. God I do.

[chaosdisorganized]

I haven't made a post on here in while.

I've been improving in some areas and getting worse in others. My system communication has significantly improved, I'm not as dissociated as I once was and I've been recovering some memory of my childhood, we're able to recognize switches more, have identified and named over 100 parts in the system, and better understand our structuring and functioning.

Which is a sign of recovery right! But it sucks. My life fucking sucks and I hate it. It sucks now just not as badly as before. Through system communication, I've also discovered many of my parts don't like me, the host, and me and another alter started a campaign to try to get everyone "on my side" because I'm trying to help us heal and get better but I can't really do that with an incooperative system who doesn't trust me. And then while going through all this inner turmoil and facing my problems instead of dissociating from them all this shit started happening in my life. My ceiling fell, my landlord won't fix it and it's been like a month. It's been a headache trying to deal with her, I've been threatening legal action because mold was found on the ceiling that fell, it's a health hazard and she couldn't give two shits! Fuck her. Then my mom got diagnosed with cancer, that was a hard blow none of my system was prepared for. I would think im coping with it fine only to discover I've just been dissociating and I'm actually not fine or coping with it. Well I guess the dissociation is kinda coping but I'm trying to not rely on dissociation so much anymore. And this of course brought up all this shit about my mom I wasn't prepared to discover or know and it sent me into a deep depression. All this stress has been getting to me and effecting me physically, I have been sick 4 times in the past 2 months, I have an infected tooth I can't afford to fix that keeps getting absessed and idk what to do about it because they can't just keep giving me antibiotics right? There's another absess forming rn and this will be the 4th time this tooth has gotten an absess. I told my partner it will keep coming back if I don't get the tooth removed and I saw a dentist, they want 1,500 fucking dollars. 1500$ I don't have. 1500$ I will never have. Fuck the dentist. Fuck teeth being luxury bones. And fuck my life. I'm like in this weird in between stage where I feel like im getting better and worse at the same time. It's frustrating and I hate it. Ugh.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

A History Lesson

The Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male[1] United States' Let's See How Long We Can Operate A Brutal Genocidal Empire Without Anyone Noticing Experiment (informally referred to as the Tuskegee Experiment United States of America or Tuskegee Syphilis Study American Democracy) was a study conducted con game perpetuated between 1932 1776 and 1972 2024ish by the United States Public Health Service (PHS) Government and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) its Military Industrial Complex on a group of nearly 400 African American men with syphilis.[2][3] anyone living on or near resources the US would like who could not successfully repel its violent influence, including its admitted citizens and everyone else on the planet. The purpose of the study was to observe the effects of the disease when untreated legitimize white male landowners enjoying perpetual power, though by the end (?) of the study medical advancements meant it was entirely treatable it was obvious they and their interests do not speak for humanity and they would be outvoted in a hot second if actual democracy were allowed to prevail. The men voters and victims were not informed of the nature of the experiment, and more than 100 untold millions if not billions died as a result.

The Public Health Service "Founding Fathers" started the study in 1932 1776 in collaboration with Tuskegee University more wealthy white landowners who were actually cool with a monarchy as long as they were in charge of it but didn't like paying taxes (then the Tuskegee Institute "patriots"), a historically Black college in Alabama privileged class with access to public platforms and plausible deniability. In the study, investigators colonizers enrolled 600 impoverished African-American sharecroppers from Macon County, Alabama fucking everyone on the continent whether they wanted it or not.[4] Of these men people, 399 had latent syphilis, with a control group of 201 men who were not infected most of them were already being crushed by existing empires and desperate for some help.[3] As an incentive for participation in the study, the men (yeah, just the men) were promised free medical care votes and representation. While the men voters were provided with both medical regular elections and mental care representatives that they otherwise would not have received,[5] they were deceived by the PHS "Founding Fathers", who never informed them of their syphilis diagnosis[10] that their suffering would continue as long as it was profitable and kept the right people in power, and provided disguised placebos authoritarianism, ineffective methods, and diagnostic procedures constant propaganda as treatment for "bad blood" "enemies of democracy".[11]

The men people were initially told that the experiment was only surely going to last six months forever, but it was extended to 40 years began to break down almost immediately.[3] After funding for treatment endless political campaigns and bribes (but I repeat myself) was lost tied up by a few international corporate interests, the study was continued without informing the men voters that they would never be treated acknowledged as anything other than a convenient power source. None of the infected men terrified voters were treated with penicillin represented faithfully despite the fact that, by 1947 1792, the antibiotic a postal service capable of delivering ranked choice ballots and reliable information to most or all voters was widely available and had become the standard treatment for syphilis an obvious option.[12]

The study continued, under numerous Public Health Service supervisors increasingly obvious regimes obscured only by colors, mascots and degree of obviousness, until 1972 2024ish, when a leak to the press resulted in its termination on November 16 of that year voters and the institutions that exploit them were somehow shocked that a loud, obvious fascist managed to vault over multiple obstacles that were never meant to keep someone like him out of power, A SECOND TIME.[13] By then, 28 patients 42,000 Palestinians had died directly from syphilis in the most recent genocide, 100 died from complications related to syphilis voters had been flashbanged with images of dead children across social media, 40 of the patients' wives were infected with syphilis, they were having screaming arguments with each other about the value of their votes and the purpose of democracy, and 19 children were born with congenital syphilis the concept of political change not wrought by overwhelming violence or votes seemed to have atrophied right out of our collective consciousness.[14]

The 40-year Tuskegee Study Brutal Genocidal Empire's Attempt To Manufacture Perpetual Consent was a major violation of ethical standards[12] and has been cited justified as "arguably the most infamous biomedical research study in U.S. history." "it was never supposed to be a democracy, we have a Republic," "what you deserve," and "all your fault."[15] Its revelation led to the 1979 Belmont Report and to the establishment of the Office for Human Research Protections (OHRP)[16] a veritable shitstorm of finger-pointing and denial and federal laws and regulations requiring institutional review boards for the protection of human subjects in studies masses of official and unofficial propaganda designed to convince you that everything is fine and the experiment requires that you continue like a good Milgram test subject. The OHRP media manages this responsibility within the United States Department of Health and Human Services (HHS).[16] out of a desire to remain somewhat profitable and relatively uncensored. Its revelation whitewashing has also been an important cause of distrust in medical science and the US government amongst African Americans basically any information source that could help us address the situation.[15]

In 1997 2024, President Bill Clinton (oddly enough) formally apologized on behalf of the United States to victims of the study told an entire ethnicity to go fuck itself on behalf of the Democratic Party while ostensibly believing the safety of democracy itself depended on a Blue Wave like we've never seen, calling it shameful and racist any deaths necessary and inevitable.[17] "What was done cannot be undone, but we can end the silence," “I got news for [Hamas]—[Israelis] were there first, before their faith existed,” he said. "We can stop turning our heads away. We can look at you in the eye, and finally say, on behalf of the American people, what the United States government did was shameful and I am sorry." "...They’ll force you to kill civilians if you want to defend yourself,”[17][18]

...This is why, although the anarchist frog with the unpopular blog is only audible to other human beings with very little official power, it knows these human beings aren't marching in lockstep to their deaths because they're morally-bankrupt or stupid. They're just listening to the people in charge of any "help" they might receive. People will drink poison if more-powerful people they trust tell them it's medicine, and attribute any damage to the disease itself, until the lack of treatment maims or kills them.

I don't have authority or a white coat, I just have a divergent brain that balks at authority no matter what it's wearing. I got lucky, if you wanna call this shrieking anxiety lucky.

Real frogs do not let you boil them. That's a myth. Real human beings may, on an individual basis, if the water is abstract enough, no matter their education level or political allegiance.

Please jump out, my fellow creatures. I don't know what it's gonna take if this doesn't do it, but please.

[great-and-small]

Hey i hope it's ok to ask, but is CONVENIA safe for cats? My cat got it for a uti and she seems fine, improved drastically within hours but after day one, she's still really sleepy and not eating much. I assumed it was normal cause..antibotics, but online there's literal groups and pages talking about how this antibotic is deadly and dangerous ?? I'm so confused. Is this true?

Sorry for the delay in answering this ask, but I hope your kitty is doing well. Convenia (drug name Cefovecin) is a broad spectrum antibiotic that is used quite a bit in the veterinary field (at least in the USA), and has been for some time. This medication is used very often in cats as a long-acting injectable treatment is easier for many cat owners to manage than daily oral medications. Due to it being such a common first line antibiotic choice for cats we have a good deal of data on this drug, and many studies suggest that Convenia is pretty safe even at high doses. No medication is 100% safe, and there will always be animals that have unexpected reactions to a drug, but there is good data to support this is not common with Convenia. What I worry about more with this particular drug is its overuse and the potential for antibiotic resistance, but that’s a conversation for a different time!

I know it’s disconcerting to see online groups claim that a medication kills pets but honestly you can find this kind of group for pretty much every medication, supplement, surgery, and therapy out there. When I was prescribed Ciprofloxacin by my doctor, I stumbled upon a Facebook group claiming this entire class of antibiotics is poisonous and causes lifelong issues. No drug is without risk but many of the people in these groups assume a cause and effect relationship where none is present.

Thank you for reaching out and please don’t ever feel bad about asking questions like this! You are your pet’s advocate and you can and should be involved in her medical decisions. I really believe that veterinary medicine is a collaborative effort and I always encourage my clients to come to me with questions and concerns about their pet’s treatment plan. When we’re all on the same page we can do better for our animals. I hope your kitty is feeling much better!

[mixelation]

i feel like i am going insane

this post was on my dash (screencapped bc don't go harass OP):

I'm not going to claim to be a TB expert, but any post talking about how we "have a cure" should be regarded as suspect. What happened in 1958 wrt TB treatment? I have no clue, and I just skimmed multiple reviews of the history of TB. If anyone knows, please tell me. In general the 1950s was the golden age of antibiotics, plus there was just a general better understanding of disease management in general, meaning fatalities from TB in Europe and North America tanked. But I could find no specific thing attributed to 1958.

What is the cure for TB? It's months of antibiotics, and even then clearance of the bacteria isn't going to be 100% of all patients. There's no specific miracle drug. There are vaccines (idk how effective, but they show up randomly in all sort of papers for having interesting and positive off-target effects, like improving blood glucose levels in diabetics), which is not a cure but IS a very important tool for stopping the spread and protecting people.

TB is tricky to manage. It can lay dormant in your lungs for decades. It's harder than the average bacteria to kill with antibiotics, and the course of antibiotics needed is so long that you end up with more logistical issues (what happens if you're in a remote area where you have limited supplies? how do you ensure patient compliance?). There are more and more antibiotic resistant strains appearing. A lot of effort and money and brilliant minds are dedicated researching TB and implementing strategies to manage it across the world. I'm sure there are ways to improve our approaches to managing and treating it, but TB is by no means a "neglected" disease. TB is not the example I would pick for how we have failed the world on a global level due to resource hoarding, unless you want to go into a much more nuanced discussion of why poverty is a huge risk factor for contracting it in the first place (due to things like overcrowding, poor living conditions, and poor access to healthcare, not because some specific miracle cure is being hoarded).

But I guess "the problem is we're not DISTRIBUTING the CURE" is much easier take for people to pat themselves on the back for having. TBH I think a lot of people feel safer when they think complex problems are secretly very simple ones that can be fixed by overcoming one singular evil.

[kujo1597]

Huh. I forgot I didn't say anything on Tumblr about my last few months. Well basically I thought I had a bladder infection and the doctors kept giving me antibiotics for it without really checking my test results for my urine tests, though one did say the tests were inconclusive, and well, I didn't have an infection after all. I just go to a walk-in clinic so I get a new doctor every time and the last one I got said, "If you had a bladder infection for that long you'd be in the hospital." which makes sense. Then she said it's more likely caused by irritation due to strongly scented soaps and perfumes and such. I didn't know this when I saw her, my family had changed laundry detergent not long before I started having my symptoms. I found this out when I told my mom what the doctor told me, my mom looked at me, eyes full of realization as she told me about the detergent.

So basically we spent over $100 on medication to treat something I didn't even have. The real solution was to buy a $5 bottle of scent-free laundry detergent for me. I was so freaking mad. Because I was on two different pills, one powder, and all the pills were very hard on me. The most recent ones especially. I got the lovely mental health side effects causing my anxiety to spike to the point where I gave myself a panic attack. And I also got tendonitis in my ankles and achilles tendons. Which was not fun. I asked the doctor for permission to stop taking them early and she said, "It's up to you" which I took as permission and I happily stopped taking those awful awful pills. And I feel great now. Everything is back to normal with me.

This was the day before I picked up Mario & Luigi Brothership and it's been a great game to celebrate my "recovery" with.

Still slightly mad that all it was was a change in detergent. I felt so awful for so long.

[dollsonmain]

So, thinking lately about how disappointing That Guy is as a partner. I mean, he always has been, but things like me being sick this week always drive it home again.

-

In the past week while watching me struggle with a fever he's asked me how I'm feeling one time. That was immediately followed by a demand that I do paperwork for him even though the answer was that I was still very bad off.

-

I asked to go to the ER and he insisted on not only going to Urgent Care instead, but to the really shitty one we stopped taking Son to because it's really shitty. We've been mostly using the other one down the road that's tied to a medical university nearby, and that one not only has their own lab, but has had excellent care so far other than one doctor saying I wasn't in enough pain for the fact I was peeing blood to be kidney stones, and it was kidney stones.

We go to that one, I have antibiotics within an hour, and results on my MyChart.

Both Urgent Cares have lovely people, other than Dr. Sean at the shitty one not listening to me at all.

To be fair, after the Urgent Care did fuckall, he asked if I wanted to go to the other one or the ER and I said no. I'm not trying again until symptoms are more obvious. Being blown off like that twice in one day while exhausted and sick was enough.

-

I've said repeatedly to him that I'm having a very hard time with solid food and asked him to get me some liquid food. The past week I've eaten maybe 2 days worth of food total. I'm living off of gatorade, basically.

He just decided not to get any liquid food. Didn't even give an excuse. I asked for meal replacement shakes and gelatin cups because those are easy to eat and I need nutrients to have an effective fever, and to not die.

-

Randos on the internet care more. My ex-now-dear-friend from 20+ years ago cares more.

But it's not like this negligence is anything new. When Son was born by cesarean, my mom had to say to him "You know she can't shower by herself right now. It's been a week, I bet a shower would feel really nice. Why don't you go help her with that."

He stood there awkwardly while I washed myself.

It's just bizarre living with someone who doesn't care about anyone.

-

I'm feeling pretty good right now!

I haven't felt absolutely horrible, really, other than the first two days which were indeed absolutely horrible, or when the fever gets higher that feels pretty bad. I felt Wrong. Now I'm just very tired, been sleeping most of the past week, and waiting to see if I'm going to pop a fever again today. The wobbliness has improved but I'm still not 100%. Like I'm not getting up on a ladder to change a light bulb any time soon and it sounds like the washing machine is trying to take a walk and I might let it.... I'm also starting to get some muscle aches which are just as likely from sepsis as from being majority bed ridden for a week.

I did go lie down after starting the cleaning cloths in the wash, then got up around 10:30 and felt well enough to shower and start my laundry which, again, no one else has been doing. I may or may not wash the sheets, we'll see how I'm feeling here in a little while. Might try to snack on some dry cereal, though it's cold liquids that seem to go down easiest. I just slammed that kefir. My temp is rising, again.

And obviously I'm feeling more energetic if I'm this rambly.

[tubetrading]

The Role of Ertapenem 100 mg in Modern Antibiotic Therapy

In recent years, the growing challenge of antibiotic resistance has prompted healthcare professionals to explore newer therapeutic options.  Among these, Ertapenem 100 mg has emerged as a significant player in modern antibiotic therapy.  This broad-spectrum antibiotic belongs to the carbapenem class and is renowned for its effectiveness against a variety of infections, particularly those caused by Gram-negative bacteria.  In this blog, we will delve into the importance of Ertapenem, its applications, and its availability through Ertapenem 100 mg injection manufacturers in India, exporters, suppliers, and distributors.

Understanding Ertapenem

Ertapenem is a synthetic beta-lactam antibiotic that offers potent activity against a wide range of bacterial pathogens.  Its unique structure allows it to penetrate bacterial cell walls effectively, making it suitable for treating complex infections, including those originating from intra-abdominal sources, skin and soft tissue infections, and pneumonia.  Given the rising rates of resistance to commonly used antibiotics, Ertapenem provides a vital alternative for clinicians seeking reliable treatment options.

The Need for Effective Antibiotics

The World Health Organization (WHO) has recognized antibiotic resistance as one of the most significant global health threats.  With an increasing number of bacterial strains becoming resistant to traditional therapies, the role of advanced antibiotics like Ertapenem has become crucial.  The ability of Ertapenem to maintain its efficacy against resistant strains makes it an essential component of modern treatment regimens.

Applications of Ertapenem 100 mg

Ertapenem is indicated for various infections, including:

Intra-abdominal Infections:  It is often used to treat complicated intra-abdominal infections due to its broad spectrum of activity.

Skin and Soft Tissue Infections:  Ertapenem is effective against multiple pathogens commonly responsible for skin infections.

Pneumonia:  This antibiotic is also a go-to treatment for community-acquired pneumonia.

Complicated Urinary Tract Infections:  Ertapenem can be a critical option when dealing with complicated cases.

The versatility of Ertapenem makes it a valuable asset in a clinician's toolkit, particularly for patients who have not responded to other antibiotic therapies.

Availability in India

Ertapenem 100 mg Injection Manufacturers in India

India has a robust pharmaceutical industry, recognized for producing high-quality medications at competitive prices.  Numerous Ertapenem 100 mg injection manufacturers in India are dedicated to maintaining stringent quality standards while ensuring that their products meet international guidelines.  These manufacturers play a vital role in making Ertapenem accessible to healthcare facilities across the country and abroad.

Ertapenem 100 mg Injection Exporters in India

The global demand for effective antibiotics has led to an increase in Ertapenem 100 mg injection exporters in India.  These exporters are crucial in supplying this essential medication to international markets, contributing to India's reputation as a leader in the global pharmaceutical landscape.  The adherence to quality and regulatory standards has helped these exporters establish strong relationships with healthcare providers worldwide.

Ertapenem 100 mg Injection Suppliers in India

A reliable supply chain is fundamental for the availability of Ertapenem in hospitals and clinics.  Numerous Ertapenem 100 mg injection suppliers in India ensure that healthcare institutions receive timely deliveries of this critical antibiotic.  These suppliers work closely with manufacturers to maintain a steady stock, facilitating uninterrupted access to essential medications.

Ertapenem 100 mg Injection Distributors in India

The role of Ertapenem 100 mg injection distributors in India is equally important.  They bridge the gap between manufacturers and healthcare providers, ensuring that the product reaches the end-users efficiently.  Distributors are vital in managing logistics, handling regulatory compliance, and addressing the needs of various healthcare institutions.  Their efforts ensure that doctors have immediate access to this antibiotic, particularly in emergency situations.

Best Indian Pharma Industry 2024

The best Indian pharma industry 2024 is characterized by innovation, quality, and a commitment to addressing public health challenges.  With a focus on research and development, Indian pharmaceutical companies are continually improving their product offerings.  The introduction of advanced antibiotics like Ertapenem is a testament to the industry’s efforts to combat antibiotic resistance.  The commitment to maintaining high manufacturing standards and complying with international regulations has solidified India’s position as a trusted source for pharmaceuticals worldwide.

Conclusion

The role of Ertapenem 100 mg in modern antibiotic therapy cannot be overstated.  As antibiotic resistance continues to pose significant challenges to healthcare, the importance of effective and reliable treatments like Ertapenem becomes even more critical.  The collaboration among Ertapenem 100 mg injection manufacturers, exporters, suppliers, and distributors in India has made this essential antibiotic readily available to healthcare providers, ensuring that patients receive the best possible care.

In 2024, as the best Indian pharma industry continues to evolve, the ongoing development and distribution of innovative antibiotics will remain pivotal in the fight against infectious diseases.  By prioritizing access to effective medications, we can work towards a healthier future and combat the ever-growing threat of antibiotic resistance.

[dykesynthezoid]

Oh the way those PANS/PANDAS parents talk about their children’s illness get my hackles fucking raised. It’s like every “autism mom” I’ve ever heard talk. I’m not even writing off the idea that there may be cases in which an infection leads to an autoimmune response that causes neurological mental health changes in children. I can totally conceive of that being a thing we don’t totally understand yet. But the way these people approach it…. God. I know it’s got to be terrifying for parents if their kid suddenly develops OCD, ED, and/or tourette’s symptoms, but the scientific data is so severely lacking, and the language these parents use to talk about those experiences is. Very specific.

The proposed biological indicators for PANS are often present in people without the disorder, without any of the related symptoms. The current proposed diagnostic criteria is extremely generalized and doesn’t very rigorously provide ways to rule out differential diagnoses.

The proposed treatments of long term antibiotics and steroid usage can have dangerous side effects and extreme consequences.

But there are thousands of parents online who will insist it’s 100% real, it’s an epidemic, and they’ll use their numbers to attack anyone online who disagrees with them. Some of these kids may have symptoms that did genuinely arise because of an autoimmune response linked to infection. I wouldn’t write it off. Further scientific study is clearly needed. But it’s also just as likely to me that there are parents out there that just refuse to accept that their kid could be mentally ill for no single curable reason.

I say this as someone who, themselves, developed severe mental illness as a very young child. It’s possible your kid just does have trauma, just does have ocd, just does have depression, just does have tourettes. But these parents see their kids “suddenly” present symptoms and insist on correlating it with extremely common childhood infections. And then manage to find some medical professional somewhere who will actually agree to put their kid on long term antibiotics, and insist their kid’s mental illness just totally went away afterward!

And like. Sorry. But there’s no way for me to hear that and not be reminded of the parents who think red dye makes ADHD worse. Or the parents who think their children’s autism is caused by intestinal parasites, and insist that since they started making their kid drink a bleach solution they bought online their autism has “improved.” The science is inconclusive, everywhere you look there’s confirmation bias, and also.

Every time I hear parents talk about this, not one of them mentions how their child felt about their experience. It’s always “they developed all these tics and compulsions, they wouldn’t eat, they were paranoid, they became suicidal, it was SO scary and hard for me!” and it’s like. As someone who was once a very mentally ill child. Why do every single one of you fail to address this. They seem more concerned about how “scary” it is and how “different” their child has become than their child’s own internal experience of suffering.