#as a hospitality worker i will be using it as my therapy

[atlasdoe]

i wanna write a fic called "help i'm still at the restaurant" where some of the marauders characters work at a restaurant with a high turn over and every chapter focuses on a new character joining the staff and telling the story about how/why they left/got fired

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

nobody here fucking listens to me nobody here fucking cares when its important im so sick of this fucking house

[muskpunk]

yooooooooo 5am ptsd flashback gacha pulls just dropped wooooooo yeah lets go gamers!!!!!

[yuinterrobangapologist]

HC an actual real forensic psychologist interviews Joker, and realizes he does not meet the legal requirements for being mentally unfit to stand trial (TRUE), and the jury finds he does not meet the requirements for criminal insanity (TRUE) and he is sentenced to death and just like actually successfully executed by Belle Reve Penitentiary.

Batman's official statement "I do not kill. However, I do not give formal statements in political issues, such as the death penalty. If Joker escapes, I will send him back to Belle Reve, regardless of whatever sentencing he receives. I am a Vanguard. I am not a New Jersey Apex Court Justice. Sentencing is outside my jurisdiction or personal interests. Thank you."

Orphan's statement is "I believe wholeheartedly in the sanctity of life. However, I am not opposed to euthanasia."

Red Hood gets hired as a literal Seasonal Summer Worker for Belle Reve, and stands guard.

Barbara Gordon gets hired as Belle Reve Archivist.

Duke Thomas speaks publicly about the Justice System's constant ignorance of the realities of Mental Illness, and the pathologization of acts of violence as mental illness, as well as how white men are frequently given passes for violence by the justice system.

The Joker is executed on April 1st. He is cremated, and his ashes are used in compost alongside goat and pig manure.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel is tried as well, and actually found criminally insane, and after 1 year in psychiatric hospital, and triweekly therapy, she has shown proof of improvement and rehabilitation, 2 years after that, her licensure is reinstated. Instead of going into patient practice, she does psychiatric research, and publishes several papers on the interactions of PTSD and psychotic disorders, as well as developing counseling treatments for domestic abuse and cult survivors.

"Jokes on You Day" becomes a national holiday.

[221bluescarf]

My Psychosis Survival Guide

Things from my coping box that might benefit you too. Like any other skill, many of these things can be used to help any other mental health problem. This is just my own list of things I use in addition to seeing my pdoc and taking my meds:

Art

Grounding is my first and most effective coping skill. Among the skills in the grounding category, coloring and doodling are my favorites (bonus if you can color-in doodles you've made yourself) but any art will do, like painting or making collages.

This can distract you from hallucinations and keep your mind occupied to stop dwelling on paranoid or delusional thoughts. Art therapy is known to reduce anxiety and depression too, which is common with psychotic disorders.

Instrumental music

LoFi is my favorite. Something calming can reduce anxiety and help you rest or sleep, which is good for a brain bombarded with the psychotic experience. Lyrics can sometimes trigger unwanted thoughts and some people even find that the lyrics change and suddenly have special meaning, so this is avoided with instrumental music.

Some LoFi music has other sound effects which can help auditory hallucinations to blend in and be less intrusive. Cafe vlogs are excellent for this, as they have a background of people talking and kitchen appliances being used which disguise mild and pesky hallucinations.

Putty

It can be Silly Putty, Thinking Putty, or whatever you can find. Some of them change colors, some of them are even scented. This is excellent grounding. It involves your senses and you can completely turn off your brain and just play with it in your hands. It's also great as a fidget tool.

Letters to yourself

Writing letters to yourself while you're in a good and healthy mindset can be valuable to look back on while in a psychotic episode. Give yourself a pep talk. Remind yourself that this is real life, remind yourself of why these thoughts are irrational and why you really can trust your friends and family, etc.

I find it useful to write about past delusions, so that when similar ones happen, I have "proof" that this is unreasonable and I'm less likely to fall for it (nothing is perfect. sometimes I'll still believe the delusion despite everything, but it helps)

A list of people who can help

Keep a list of friends or family who are aware of your diagnosis and who are ready to help you if you're struggling. Keep the numbers to these people in case you chuck your phone. Also include the numbers to your doctor, therapist, social worker, or anyone else you may need to reach when you're unable to use your own phone. (It's also good to have these listed in case you get hospitalized and are unable to have your phone)

Also if you're dealing with paranoia around your phone, some people find it comforting to use WhatsApp because it's encrypted unlike text messages.

I hope these are helpful

[gatheringbones]

[“I want to spend a moment reflecting on exploitation: I’ve been eyed for social work since I was in my mid-teens. A racialized, mentally ill, gender queer youth, I was also remarkably articulate, psychologically precocious, eager to help and to please. The adult service providers whose orbit I floated in were quick to notice and take a shine to me—I was one of those once-in-a-blue-moon clients, the kind it feels both easy and rewarding to work with because I was so traumatized yet seemed to “improve” so quickly. The adults I trusted always seemed to want me in their empowerment initiatives, they were eager to put me on youth councils and committees, they gave me leadership roles despite the fact that I was in way over my head. I was brilliant and gifted, they said. I had so much to offer, they said. Helping was what I was made for.

I came to identify my worth with helping, my lovableness with how much I was able to give and please. It didn’t matter that most of my early jobs and roles involved some significant risks—for example, facilitating antihomophobia workshops in high schools as a high school student myself might have required a rather enormous amount of self-disclosure and vulnerability to strangers, but it was all for the cause, wasn’t it? And how proud my youth workers were whenever I came back from another successful outing. And if the honorariums they paid me were less than minimum wage, well, it was more money than I’d ever made before, wasn’t it? And how lucky was I to get paid to do something that did so much good for other people?

When I got to college age, I knew it was my purpose in life to help and heal other people. In my darker moments, it sort of seemed like that was all I was good for—and all the trusted adults, the wise youth workers and therapists and psychiatrists who mentored me, said I was gifted. They said I was special. My diversity made me fashionable. So “interesting” and “textured,” one psychotherapy supervisor called me. A wealthy white psychologist said I was an “ambassador for my people.” (She didn’t specify which people.) This was how, at twenty-two years old, I began an internship that involved doing therapy with adults who had survived childhood sexual trauma. Although I had no real clinical training, I held sessions for them at night in the windowless basement of a hospital in Montreal. I learned therapy techniques quickly, from videos on the internet and by practising on the job. People were counting me. I had to help.

Some quick number-crunching tells me that I gave over 4,000 hours of unpaid therapy in order to get to paid work as a clinician. By contrast, the very first sex work gig I got paid me $100 for some nude cuddling and a sloppy hand job that I completed in twenty minutes. I almost never think about that first gig now. I still dream about the stories my clients told me in that first unpaid therapy internship I took at twenty-two. Occasionally, I still cry, wondering how they are now, if I’d done enough to help them.

My social work experience isn’t every social worker’s experience, so I can’t claim to speak for the whole social work community. What I can say is that the people around me saw something useful and beautiful that they liked in me, so they took it and used it and I allowed it to happen because I wanted to feel loved and I didn’t think I really had choices. What I can say is that my sex work practice started out rough and frightening, but it blossomed into a decent learning experience and a business that paid me lots of cash up front, usually with no strings attached.”]

kai cheng thom, do you feel empowered in your job? and other questions therapists ask sex workers, from The Care We Dream Of: Liberatory & Transformative Justice Approaches to LGBTQ+ Health, edited by Zena Sharman, 2021

[neuroticboyfriend]

Is it possible to work in the field of psychology (therapist, psychiatrist, social worker, etc.) while being anti-psych? /gen

I’m currently studying psychology (working on my Bachelors), hoping to be a therapist.

I just learned about anti-psych. I’m still learning about the movement, but I agree with what I know about anti-psych. Especially as someone who spent time in a mental hospital; luckily I was only there a few days, but it wasn’t a good experience at all and showed me (a teenager) the systematic abuse of institutions.

Tbh I have mixed feelings on this so I don't wanna give a solid yes or no. What I can say is that I have a human services degree and have solidly decided that I am not going into therapy. Even though I could do good there, there's things like mandatory reporting. There's the constraints of whatever clinical I work in. There's professionality norms, and things I can't do w/o getting my (currently non-existent, I only have an associates) license revoked.

Whatever good I would be able to do would be inherently limited by the unjust system, and in order to do that good work, I would have to concede to that system. I would have to keep it going and do things that go against my morals.. things that could potentially harm someone - even if only indirectly. Even with good therapists, I've experienced how the butterfly effect works to perpetuate psychiatric truana.

So I'd rather put my people skills to use doing mutual aid and peer support. I do that every day in my own recovery process, being part of the community I'm in. And to me it's a lot more rewarding to just be a layperson in addiction recovery, helping others along the way, making friends in the process... than it was doing my internship. It's more.. real, honest, vulnerable - more human.

That said, I do think having therapists who truly understand and value their patients autonomy & such is important. People are going to go to therapy, because they need it - I know I do, especially group therapy. So do with that what you will, and know there are ways to put good out there that don't require you to skirt your morals or work within the system.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

I don't know whose ever gone through what I'm dealing with now, with a loved one suffering and being in a state where they refuse to do what helps them get better.

I visit mom every other day, usually for about 30mins but sometimes longer. I'm starting to feel the effects of residual stress of having to watch a loved one suffer. And part of this, it's on her. Refusing therapy puts you three days worth of time behind. (as I was told by a worker) And while I get her depression, I know her better than anyone and can tell when he's being purposefully stubborn. She's the type, that if she wants something, she'll find a way. Even if it means being a karen. She'll move mountains to get what she wants, and yet....she's not using that to her advantage.

and no one seems to notice how this all effects me. Sure, it's so selfish I know. I'm not the one who suffered a stroke. But I've had to watch this all unfold, I've had to make uncomfortable phone calls, to make sure she got into rehab after the hospital. I have to keep positive despite watching her regress at one point and have to fight double time to get back the progress she made. I'm so scared. So stressed. And everyone keeps telling me they are proud of me? Whats there to be proud of???

I have migraines, and I have them more often now---but this, this stress is like a migraine without pain. You know that stuffed up feeling? And no amount of crying, self care, venting, or just...trying to be happy in the face of something scary. Nothing is helping and I'm afraid. I do have therapy every two weeks, and that's my savior right now. But it's not enough. It doesn't feel like I'm going to burst quite yet or even ever do so, but it just feels....heavy.

I wish things could get back to normal. I want my mom to improve, I want her home, I want to stay positive but every day it gets harder.

Sorry to interrupt your barrage of daily crane content btw

I don't know where else to go....

[herminapons]

Please ignore that or don't. I accidentally added poll instead of a read more line. Don't know how to remove it. *cries*

Sharing My Interpretation of Stardew Valley Shane's Life and Personality:

He had a rough childhood. His parents are divorced and as a child, Shane moves from one parent's house to another. Until each of his parents have their own families, Shane was eventually neglected.

Marnie and other relatives adopted him.

Due to constantly moving places, Shane haven't made any friends.

He spent most of his childhood watching Gridball, playing videogames, and/or being on the Internet.

In middle school, he met these two childhood sweethearts (Jas' parents) who eventually became his best friends.

Shane is the weird, quiet kid who always looks out the window and is mostly invisible to others kids.

But with his 2 friends? Shane is just like any other kid. He loves playing games, playing with toys, and laughs at butt jokes.

Shane changed a lot in high school. He became a popular kid being a varsity player in Gridball.

Think of any teenager-trouble you can think of, Shane has probably done it.

Shane is still a weird kid despite all that, it especially shines through when he's with his two friends.

He works part time while studying. He was dedicated to save up for college.

Shane had a promising future. He got good grades all while being a varsity player (and a troublesome teenager lol)

Shane was supposed to go to college when he got in an accident which left him with a broken ankle.

All the money he saved up went to hospital bills and therapy.

Marnie insisted that Shane move to Pelican Town for a while in order to heal. This is the time he started getting into farm life and fell in love with taking care of chickens.

After 2 years, Shane moved back to the city and have a fresh start.

He began working again and his jobs were mostly retail customer service.

Shane tried to continue studying. But it was either he was rejected or he was short on money to proceed with enrollment.

Due to co-workers' influence, Shane started drinking after shifts.

He was the wingman to his best friends' relationship.

Shane found a girlfriend during this time, it was a serious relationship. This inspired him to really change the course of his life. He cut back on drinking and started saving up again.

Shane was overjoyed when his friends announced their pregnancy. He made sure to always be there whenever his friends need him.

Because of this his friends call him papa Shane (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Jas' name was an acronym of the trio's names. ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ (My HC their names are Jessie, Anton, Shane)

Secretly, Shane is jealous of his friends' happy little family. He always wondered how it must feel like to have a family, given that he doesn't have one eversince.

Living the fast-paced city life made Shane miss Pelican Town and realize that living in a farm is his true calling.

This sparked a lot of arguments between him and his gf. She wanted to grind her life for money, but Shane wanted to just live life.

They eventually broke up. This hurt him so much that he began drinking heavily every night to cope with the pain.

Then the accident happened. His friends died at the scene, leaving a poor baby Jas orphaned.

Shane was babysitting Jas when he heard the news.

Devastated, Shane drowned himself in alcohol. Saying he was a mess is an understatement. He had to quit his job to take care of Jas, and he was using up all of his savings for her and in beer.

When Marnie heard of the news, she took charge and arranged everything. She adopted Jas (since Shane is not suitable to be her legal guardian) and have her and Shane move back to her ranch in Pelican Town.

Shane shut himself off from the world. He refused to leave his room, he even refused to see/look at Jas. He hated looking at her because she reminds him of his late friends and the trauma of their passing.

His alcohol consumption turned into addiction. Shane cannot calm down until he's intoxicated. If he's sober, he spends the rest of his time crying and hating himself.

His turning point was when Marnie was out late due to a storm. Shane heard Jas' cries from the other room, he had to force himself up and attend to her.

Shane saw his goddaughter for the first time in months. She's no longer a beany baby, Jas can now stand up on her own and walk a few steps. When Marnie came home, Shane saw that his aunt was not getting any younger. Lines are starting to form on her face.

This made Shane realize that time passes and everything changes, except him.

Shane started forcing himself to be there for his "ragtag bunch" family.

He moved to the city for a better job but it didn't worked out for long.

He moved back to Pelican Town when he heard that there's a "promising job" waiting. Lol Joja

Shane always beats himself up. He's always thinking about the "what ifs" and contemplating if life is still worth it.

Shane became reclusive and antisocial even to the ones close to him.

His life this time was a constant wake up, eat, self-hate, work, drink, more self-hate, sleep.

Despite all this, Marnie didn't stop looking after Shane. She never fail to remind him that he is loved and there are people that care for him.

Slowly, Shane got "better" at handling his trauma and pain.

Shane started spending time with Jas. He no longer hated seeing her face, instead he hates himself for not being there when she needed him the most.

He picked up hobbies he liked back then. He plays videogames again. He watches Gridball games again. He helps with taking care of the chickens again.

He recently got a pet chicken, he named it Charlie. Charlie the therapist.

He began warming up to the other villagers, too.

He found himself being friends with Emily. Shane felt safe dropping his guard down around her and let his weird side shine through.

Then there's Harvey and Elliott. Shane didn't know when and how it happened, but the three of them always end up in awkward situations. Due to the constant exposure to one another, a brotherhood was formed.

Even though he puts up a "mean" façade, on the inside Shane is still that weird, goofy kid who only wants to be loved.

Shane may not admit it, but in Pelican Town, he felt loved that he had never felt before.

Recently, Shane picked up a new hobby. Breeding chickens. He had always find chickens fascinating, and when Shane hatched his first blue chicken, he cannot contain his excitement.

Yet, Shane is still struggling. It's hard for him to open up to new people. Most of time he only forces himself to get up and function. There are times that he feels good and then days later emotions hit him like a truck. Shane hates himself and how much of a failure he is. He became dependent on alcohol to comfort himself.

Lately he starts accepting his situation, thinking that his fate is sealed. He accepts that his life is nothing but a pathetic joke and there is nothing left for him... Until a new farmer moves in town.

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

This is a oneshot I refused to proofread so apologies for any errors. I was trying to write a fanfic but I don't knoooow how to tell stories. Bulleted list then! I could've put SDV Shane HC but lengthy titles look cooler ರ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ರ

[bwabbitv3s]

Good Godfather Vlad AU

~I picture this as the timeline where Vlad goes to therapy after the disaster of the reunion where he sees his friends for the first time in ten years. He thinks it is going to be nothing but anger and hate towards Jack over how he ruined his life. Only for his friends he has not seen collage to ask him about why he never answered their letters they send him over the years.~

"What letters?" Vlad asks. His composure slipped a little at the unexpected revelation.

"Why all the ones we sent you while you were in the hospital. We were not allowed to visit as you were in intensive care which only allows family." Maddie tells Vlad.

"Yeah tried to get them to bend the rule but they would not budge. We attempted to break in three times that first week to visit you once you were stable." Jack says.

"The hospital banned us after that. Not the best decision we could have made but we just got stonewalled at every turn trying to find out how you were." Maddie says sadly.

"We sent you one everyday. You were in intensive care since we could not be there with you. Had to break into the dean's office to get your legal address so the redirection to the hospital would go through." Jack chatters away gesturing wildly. The punch nearly sloshed over in his cheap plastic cup.

Vlad feels like his stomach drops and the room is spinning. He remembers very little of the first week in the hospital. The crushing loneliness and pain as he came in and out the only clear memories. Never once does he remember any letters.

"I never received any letters." Vlad says softly.

"That can't be. We made sure to get them posted directly from the post office to ensure the address and postage was correct." Maddie answers then looks at Jack.

"Yeah we were worried that getting them sent to you in the hospital would be an issue and had the postal worker walk us through how to do it right." Jack says in a gentle voice.

How can it be that he never got any letters? Vlad would remember if he got one sign of his friends not abandoning him back then. He would never have refused to receive mail. Then like a slow motion train wreck he remembers an issue with the college.

"You got my address from the dean's office?" Vlad asks carefully. He hopes dearly that he had heard it wrong the first time.

"Picked the lock at midnight five days after you were hospitalized and broke into his records." Jack answers.

"Took a while to find your file as the filing cabinet was not alphabetized. Very unprofessional of him." Maddie says

"The Dean had my address wrong that year, seven was transcribed as one. It took weeks with the postal department's help to track down anything that was meant to be sent to me. The Undeliverable Mail Depot even had trouble finding anything that was meant to be sent to me." Vlad says in mounting dread. 

"You never got any of our letters?" Jack asks.

"We had been sending letters to a non existing address the entire time." Maddie gasps. She starts to step forwards as if to hug him.

"I think I need to leave." Vlad stutters out. He hastily shoves a business card into Maddie's reaching hands. All he can focus on is the high pitch ringing in his ears as something inside him feels like it breaks. 

"I need some time. You can use that to reach me later. I just can't right now." Vlad hastily says before Jack can stop him. 

Vlad holes up in his hotel room the rest of the night on the phone with the hospital he had stayed at after the accident. It takes little time for him to get the right person and just a tiny bribe to get them to check the mail room for any lost letters without having to be there in person. He waits on hold for an hour before the answer comes through. An entire bankers box full of letters was tucked away in the back with an incorrect mailing address and smudged name. He pays an exuberant amount to get it priority shipped to him. 

The next day he avoids everyone from the reunion. Using his powers to hide from the event planners and other graduates. His plans for revenge are dropped as a heavy package arrives at noon that day. With shaking hands he opens it and finds a years worth of faded letters sent to him after the accident. 

Tears smudge the one written the day his friends got banned from the hospital. A blurry photo of Jack being escorted off the grounds by security officers is tucked into that letter. A giant teddy bear in neon blue in his hands.

Vlad cancels the next weeks meetings with his company and gets the board to deal with things for a bit. He calls up the ghosts he had hired and tells them the job is off and gives them payment in recompensation for it. Lastly he books a meeting with a therapist.

Now with a Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

[cherryblossomforest]

19th & 20th September 2024

19th:

Today I had to take Giggles to the vet for more vaccinations and more flea and worm treatment as I didn't have any more. I'm ensuring her health checks are all up to date because I think I've fallen off the ball with that.

She was a bit nervous at the vet but wasn't meowing or scared. She wanted to hide and her crate was on the floor so I made a cup with my hands and she hid her face in it which was enough for her to feel safe. It was absolutely adorable. I gave her many head rubs and scratches behind her ears which she loved and she purred which was reassuring.

The car ride always makes her a bit nervous but she's soooo much better than she was before. I play some LoFi instrumentals when she's super anxious but on the way back she barely cried at all and took a nap. It makes me happy that she's starting to feel safe in the car because then I can take her on more adventures and she won't be so nervous :)

One thing I do need to get on top of is her dental hygiene. It's tough because she hates it but it needs tending to so I need to invest in some things! I don't want her to end up having any problems in the future.

When I got back home I rested some more and got to preparing for my job interview. I wasn't anxious but I was nervous. I got some examples I wanted to use also and by the time my interview took place I was feeling more confident. I answered all the questions quite quickly but also in enough detail and I taught one of the interviewers something about mental health which felt super nice. She said what I explained was quite nice to learn so I hope I made a good impression and I did feel like it was a good interview too. I was kinda buzzing after.

I was reminded that for someone who's in crisis, I'm doing quite a pretty good job right now! It felt nice to have Elodie around for the interview and it felt nice to remember things from work which I hadn't thought about in years. I really hope I get this job because it would be perfect for me to work from home and earn enough to support myself, travel and pay off my debts. Then I can eventually start paying for private therapy too and get a knowledgeable therapist. I need that and I really do think I deserve this too! Another thing is that I can hire a cleaning service to help me deep clean my home because I can't do it with my pain and mobility problems so that'll also make me feel so much better and I know I can pay my friend to help me too.

I decided to watch Forrest Gump which sent my brain into a bit of an overdrive I think. I ended up being so tired that I couldn't keep my eyes open. Just so exhausted! It definitely was triggering watching it again as an adult but very very relatable too in so many ways. Forrest definitely is autistic and Bubba too.

I ended up sleeping at completely the wrong time so I'm up at a weird time. I have my doctor's appointment tomorrow and I see my doctor and I just really need her to help me. I need my meds increased and I need a care coordinator or social worker. I need better support or I'm going to end up back in the hospital and I just really don't want to end up back there but I get no support and I really need it.

20th:

I thought I was having an episode... I thought the ceiling was going to collapse because of a noise I was hearing which I couldn't identify. Messed-up sleeping patterns mess up my mental health dramatically. The noise was coming from my upstairs neighbours but the anxiety that it was the ceiling about to cave in was farfetched...

I need to sleep

My sleep was really bad and idk why it has to be like this. I had a nightmare that I just couldn't get away from someone and they even found me on this blog and they showed me not nice pictures that they took of me that I couldn't remember (I basically had amnesia for the events and another part was present...but more in a way that they wanted to hide it from me too and was happy - since when did I have DID in my dreams??) That was overwhelming and it felt so real that I woke up feeling like it was real. That's always my biggest fear.

I'm so tired and stiff that I've ended up late for my freaking doctors appointment and I want to cry because I had one job but I'm so exhausted. I feel sedated. If this doesn't work out I want to give up now... I'm ngl.

It was so lovely to see my Doctor she's so lovely! As soon as I sat down she was like "Is it getting bad again [name]?" and from that moment I was holding back tears and that surprised me. She asked me if I was getting support from family and I explained that we had a bereavement in January and she remembered it was Dead Brother then she asked me if I was getting support which I wasn't. She asked me what's been happening and I explained that every September I get so much worse and I feel so bad. She asked if it's an anniversary for anything and asked me to specify and I actually managed to say it's a trauma anniversary from being raped which was so confronting but such improvement on my part. She then asked me who and I explained Dead Brother.

I think this is significant because I tend to think I talk about what's going on with me a lot and I reallllyy don't. This blog is the only place I actually talk about my feelings and not even my doctor knows much about me. That's bad. This was something my old ED T also said to me and I thought I opened up to her a lot. I really don't talk to people and I'm always holding everything in. Even my friends say this too so it must be true.

Anyway, my doctor has increased my Mirtazapine to the highest at 45mg and wants to see me in 2 weeks. She's also referred me to the crisis team (🙄) and a mental health practitioner to talk to as well. I see them on Monday. She said she's going to refer me to see a social subscriber which will help me get out of the house and maybe do things and for the first time I'm going to give it a go. She even said if I really don't like it I don't have to go so that's reassuring.

Right now it's been 30 minutes that I've been in this car park at the gp so I'm going to find somewhere to go...

Sometimes I wonder why it feels like the world just wants me to die, I try so hard all the time to get help and keep myself safe and it's just like no one cares enough to help. As much as I'm grateful for this help from my doctor and I truly am... if me reaching out for desperate help for another year doesn't work I'm so done trying. I'm so tired.

Oh my God I am so tired of being so alone.

All I want to do is listen to music but I know the music that I want to listen to will make me feel worse.

I'm not sure if it was my first time admitting what Dead Brother did, but it was definitely the first time telling a professional or anyone in person and my brain is going crazy.

Yep. First time saying the words out loud. Wow. That wasn't a good idea in the middle of September... body memories and flashbacks have started but I've taken 2mg Lorazepam to help calm everything down normally 1mg is does a good job but rn I'm struggling. I'm also being distracted by my loved ones which feels nice and I'll most likely cry some more.

Why is this September different? I'm remembering more memories even before the doctors appointment. It's so bad... so so bad...

[the-cleaning-guy]

Howdy!

My name is Bruce and I'm Princeton-Plainsboro's janitor, nothing too special. I keep the hospital clean and occasionally bring in my dogs to help the patients.

I've been told to include some things about myself so here ya go:

Age- 25 (April 21, 1979)

Pronouns- He/Him

Sexuality- Fag

I have 4 dogs, a truck almost as old as me, I can play the guitar, harmonica, and drum on buckets. Feel free to ask me something or talk to me I'm all ears buddy!

Some information about him!

Bruce grew up in a trailer park with his parents and older brother. His dad worked a blue collar job and his mom was a bartender. His brother is 6 years older than him, he wasnt home often so theyre not very close. He still goes to see his parents, he'll stop by and have dinner with them every so often. All of them were really distant growing up (still are) but they care about eachother in their own ways.

He started using drugs around 14 and it got really bad from 16-20. He originally got the job at PPTH at 19 but a year later got sent to rehab because he almost OD-ed. Cuddy gave him the job back because he was a good worker and his recovery was going really well. Hes relapsed a few times and had to stay inpatient at PPTH.

He has a slight southern accent that comes out with certain words but its not super obvious. His right eye is a very light grey/blue, his left eye is an olive green. He has tattoos all over his body (including a tramp stamp he got at 16). He has a labret, a septum, a tongue, 10 ear (3 on top, 2 on bottom), and a belly button piercing. Him and his brother both have moles under their eye but on opposite sides.

He owns an old red pickup truck from the 80s. Lives in a small rundown apartment 40 minutes from PPTH. He has four dogs (two pit bulls, a german shepherd, and an australian shepard). One pit bull (named Bones but he calls him Baby) is a trained therapy dog who helps him with his addiction and anxiety. He plans on getting his german shepherd (Jack <- named after jack twist from brokeback mountain) trained to be a therapy dog too. He learned to play guitar, harmonica, and bucket drums as a young teen practically on the streets.

He gets along with most people really well since hes easy to talk to. He has resting bitchface but when he talks to people hes very polite and friendly which makes up for it. Kids tend to like him so he carries candy in his pockets for them. He has sort of a random country uncle feel to him? Hes very charismatic but you also wouldnt want to get in a fight with him. He looks like someone you'd see at a bar drinking beers and watching the game on tv. Though hes not really a fan of sports other than hockey or fighting. He seems older than he really is both physically and mentally. He'll bring in Bones for the patients to hang out with when hes allowed to. He enjoys talking about music, movies/shows, history, dogs, etc. People tend to talk to him about their drama so he knows everyones business, hes a good listener!

He likes men but he doesnt really talk about it often. He grew up getting called 'fag' by most of the people around him (even if they got along) so he usually just calls himself that. He isnt currently into anybody but he gets around. Hes a cis guy but doesnt care about gender much so its never really on his mind, he probably doesnt know what being trans is but he doesnt give a shit either way.

Hello!! im ghost (@ghostboyhood) the person behind this blog. Sorry the information above is so all over the place i have a rough time wording things 😭 I'll usually talk ooc in specified tags unless youre specifically asking ME something and not Bruce -> [#ooc- blahblahblah]

This is my House Md oc Bruce N. Valentine!! Feel free to ask him things and talk to him, he'd love to listen. Hes up for answering almost anything just be smart about what you ask <3

Go check out the other people hes surrounded by at @ppth-staff !!

[star-anise]

Riffing off of your recent post about Jordan Peterson, what IS the difference between counselling psychology and clinical psychology? I know it’s possible to get a PhD in either, but I’m fuzzy about the differences in approach.

My current therapist is a psychiatrist who is working with me on meds and also with Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) talk therapy. I’m perfectly happy with him, but if he ever got hit by a bus or something (or simply retired at some point), I’d be in the market for a new therapist. So I ought to know the difference between clinical psychologists and counselling psychologists.

Thank you.

In practical terms, on the client end, there's very little difference. The real divisions you need to know are:

Psychiatrist: Someone who went to medical school and specialized in psychiatry; can diagnose and prescribe medication. Usually designated MD.

Psychologist/Therapist/Counsellor: Someone who has gone to graduate school and focused on psychology or clinical social work; can sometimes diagnose, but usually cannot prescribe medication.

Psychiatrists do sometimes do talk therapy! I had a psychiatrist like that once. He was great. Sadly, this is mostly going out of fashion. Because they have so much extra training, they get higher salaries; administrators who care about increasing efficiency and cutting costs will therefore change them from seeing a patient for an hour each, to seeing a patient for only 15 minutes to talk about medication, and shunt the clients to cheaper therapists for talk therapy.

Within the field of psychologists/therapists /counselors, there are approximately eleventy squillion different variations in education format, theoretical basis, research background, and bragging rights. That's where the Counselling vs Clinical division lives. However, all the fields have similar aims (helping people reduce distress and become more healthy) and similar approaches (sit in a room and talk) and they freely poach any techniques or knowledge from each other that seem useful, so there's very little intrinsic difference that you would see.

The one big difference you would see is if you needed a formal diagnosis, more than just the person who treats you going, "Yeah, looks like [fill in the blank]". This is usually only needed if you're applying to something specific, like government benefits or special education accommodations. Assessment psychologists/neuropsychologists mostly tend to focus only on assessment, which is a whole different field in itself. Because of their expertise, and that someone who provides psychotherapy with you might be somewhat biased with their own ideas of what your deal is, formal assessments are generally done by someone who is not your therapist.

Anyway. The big difference between counselling and clinical psychology is basically historical. Clinical psychologists historically descend from the workers in hospitals, asylums, and mental health clinics, who focused on people with acute mental illnesses. They worked closely with psychiatrists and emulated psychiatry's popular methods at the time (mostly Freudian psychoanalysis) and focused specifically on treating mental health as a disease. This has generally been seen as a relatively more factual and sciencey field, since it's where a lot of the research on abnormal psychology and how to treat it has happened.

Counselling psychology, meanwhile, descends historically from pastors and school counsellors—people in churches or schools with "normal populations" who were the obvious go-to people for those in emotional distress or uncertainty about their lives. Counselling focused on training people who needed the skills to help somebody grieving the loss of a loved one, or who needed to figure out what they wanted to do with their lives. It has generally thus been seen as a fuzzier, less rigorous field, and less prestigious. It's also closely entangled with Social Work, which grew out of many of the same settings and focused on helping ease the lives of people affected by society's many ills.

But they were all of them decieved, for another Ring was made—

Counselling as a field got significantly transformed by Carl Rogers, who used scientific research to see what kinds of therapy approaches helped people—and to the shock and horror of many many people, the warm and gentle approaches used in Counselling and Social Work turned out to work better than Freudian impassivity—even in Clinical populations!

Because see, the division between these fields was based on a misapprehension. A hundred years ago, or even fifty, we thought that these fields focused on significantly different groups, and it turns out that's not really true. Freudian psychotherapy in its failure state was all about impersonal disconnection, pointing out the flaws and foibles of somebody's psyche and expecting them to fix it. Using Rogers' method of treating mentally ill people like human beings, looking them face-to-face and believing in their ability to better themselves as people, actually worked! Amazing!

And also, a lot of people with mental illnesses are really good at masking, compensating, and functioning as normal enough to avoid general detection and referral to medical treatment. Anyone dealing with the "general population" is inevitably going to deal with people with profound levels of depression, anxiety, psychosis, addiction, and every other mental disorder under the sun.

Therefore, anybody practicing in either field had to learn about both, because each required the skills the other had. These days, the difference is generally more about who your grad school was founded by fifty or a hundred years ago than your training recently. Counsellors get hired by mental hospitals, and clinical psychologists work in schools.

The differences still linger in little ways, like how in the Canadian Psychological Association, there are different "sections" that each organize their own newsletters and social media groups and parties during conferences. They discuss new research and issues relating to their areas of practice. Most people belong to three or four each, since they overlap—there's Counseling and Clinical, sure, but also Black Psychology, History and Philosophy, Psychology in the Military, and so on.

So I am mostly being petty and flippant when I say I'm glad not to be on the Clinical listserv, where there is, I imagine, a "Jordan Petetson is Making us Look Bad" Quarantine Thread, which will be locked after 9000 replies with no resolution in sight.

Anyway, that's all inside baseball and not useful to you. Onto the useful stuff.

Full disclosure: What I'm about to say may be unconsciously biased by my perspective, despite my efforts not to be so, because my Master's degree in Counseling means I have significantly less professional prestige than psychologists with doctorates, especially in Clinical Psychology. However, I earnestly believe that I am paying attention to the science and speaking the truth here.

All the best evidence states that what level of education someone has, what school they learned it in, and what therapeutic technique they are applying are not good predictors for whether therapy with them will help you.

And yet, therapy undeniably does work. It's just that, for all our trying, we still struggle to put our fingers on precisely what the difference is.

You are actually in the best position to predict success, because the best metric we can find is whether you, personally, feel that your counsellor is listening to you, understands and cares about you, and is helping you reach your goals. That's literally the most important thing. Does this counsellor seem like someone you could work with?

This means it's actively useful to provide feedback as you go, like, "I don't like that idea, what if I did it this way instead?" or "No, I think you're mistaken," or "I'm uncomfortable with this." Part of counselling is absolutely about sitting with discomfort and figuring out how to handle tough stuff, but your therapist should be someone you can at least discuss the whys and wherefores of the process with. They're a navigator on a journey with you, not a commander telling you where to march.

[heardatmedschool]

A quick guide on what different titles mean in my posts

(Since education AND healthcare systems vary around the world).

Medical Student (4.5-5 years)

You can get into medical school straight out of high school. College degrees do exist, but they are not the norm, not for medicine, and not for any career, tbh.

You fist 2-3 years are mostly theory. Calculus, chemistry, biology, anatomy, histology, embriology, physiology, pathology, physiopathology, microbiology, pharmacology…. That period end with semiology, and you get a Bachelor’s Degree in Medical Science.

Then, for the next 2 years, you have your clinicals, in which you spend half of the day in the hospital, with patients, and half the day in class, but definitely more focused on patient care and management.

Med student in clinicals = baby of the team (most of the time).

When you finish, you get your Academic Degree, Licenciate in Medicine.

Medical Intern (1.5-2 years)

No longer a student, you are now in your professional practice. Although you are technically still in med school in your university, you can say goodbye to classes, since you’re now a worker.

Probably bottom of the food chain, and probably does all the paperwork that nobody wants to do, but it’s a period where you gain a lot of independence and knowledge through work.

When you finish, you get your Professional Title, Médico Cirujano, but also need to pass a national test (EUNACOM) in order to be able to work.

Once you are a Doctor, you can work with that, or you can specialize.

Resident Doctor

A doctor, who is both working and studying towards a specialty.

Staff

Doctor who is on charge of a team. Tends to be an specialist.

Other titles that may cause confusion:

CNA: I use CNA to refer to TENS (Técnico de Enfermería de Nivel Superior). Technical degree (2.5 years). Takes care of patient’s basic needs, vital signs, may administer non-prescription medications.

Scrub tech: An specialized TENS. Takes care of the surgical instrumental and the sterile field in the OR.

Other TENS specializations: (that aren’t shared with other workers) Ambulance paramedic, anesthesia tech, trauma tech (takes care of plasters).

Medical Technologist: University degree (5Y). In charge of handling the machines and advanced technology equipment. They have 5 sub-specialties: ENT, ophthalmology, morphophysiopathology, blood bank and radiology.

Kinesiologist: University degree (5Y). They encapsulate both Physical Therapy and Respiratory Therapy.

Midwife: University Degree (5Y). Kind of like L&D nurses. Also in charge of reproductive health (i.e inserts IUDs, tests for STIs). Can assist births without a doctor if uncomplicated.

Other professionals that may not need further explanation:

Nurse.

Nutritionist.

Speech therapy.

Occupational therapy.

[she-karev]

Meeting Luna (Jolex Sweet Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Alex Karev x Jo Wilson/Jo Karev

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 3

Summary: Alex and Jo help a patient deliver a baby that formed in her liver. Later Amber Karev gets news that devastates her and her loved ones.

Words: 3554

April 12th, 2020

Jo comes out of the hospital exhausted and rubbing her strained neck. It’s been four days since Meredith Grey was found passed out in the parking lot by Alex. He brought her inside the hospital where she was tested positive for covid. Since then, he has been checking in on her as her medical proxy, making sure she’s stable while Jo has been covering Meredith’s service. So far Jo hasn’t been outside in four days and the stress of the new job is getting to her.

“Hey.” Jo looks up to find her sister-in-law, Amber Karev, and best friend, Link, approach her in their casual clothes, “I’d ask how you’re doing but I think your appearance is answer enough.”

“Despite what you may read or hear in the news, sunlight does not in fact kill Covid 19.” Link says when he sees Jo has her mask off to take a breath.

“Ha. I've been covering Meredith's service. I haven't been outside in four days.” Amber hisses at that feeling bad for her, “What are you doing here?”

“Hand trauma.” Link explains.

“You left Amelia alone with four kids for a hand?”

Amber oohs at that, “You are so gonna be in the doghouse tonight.”

“She told me to come in.” Link explains.

“Oh. You're already annoying her.” Jo teases causing Amber to grin, “What's on your shirt?”

Link sees a sticky spot on his shirt, “Ooh, that's, uh, syrup? I made pancakes this morning.”

“Weird. You're a dad.” Jo jokes.

“Missed you!” Link sings before going inside leaving the sisters-in-law to catch up.

“How’s it going on your front?” Jo asks Amber, “I’m sure it’s not as painful as mine.”

“Normally I would disagree, but I know me complaining about my life right now is just gonna piss you off.” Amber says before changing the subject, “Any luck getting DCFS to do a home inspection?”

Jo frowns at that reminder. She and Alex bought a suitable two story 4-bedroom house back in February so they can raise a family there. They started the adoption paperwork, and the agency was gonna send a social worker to do a home inspection and interview them face to face.

But then March 13th happened, and social services has limited home visits in favor of public safety. The news broke Jo’s heart who was getting happier every time she and Alex were one step closer to having a baby of their own. So far, she has been trying to get past the pain with virtual therapy and work.

Jo sighs, “No they said other matters take precedence which as a woman who wants to adopt an abandoned baby pisses me off but as a doctor working in this terrible time I get it. I just wish I finally decided to have kids one month or hell even one day earlier. Maybe it might have made a difference.”

“I’m really sorry.” Amber says sad as well, “I know it doesn’t compare but my life hasn’t gone the way I envisioned it would five months ago either.”

Jo nods understanding, “Yeah if you had told me a year ago a pandemic would hit and instead of shopping for a car seat and looking toward the future, I would pray for toilet paper and hand sanitizer I would think you were crazy.”

“I would think I was crazy too.” Amber says bitterly, “I really am sorry I know how much you and Alex want a baby.”

“Thanks. We’re fine, we have each other, and we’ll just wait until social services finally does a visit and approves us. And to practice we have Schmitt living with us.”

Amber laughs, “I still can’t believe your letting him live with you. And I can’t believe Alex agreed to it, were you guys running low on rent or reasons for pity?”

“Okay he was sad and lonely, and he didn’t have a place to live I felt bad. It’s how Jackson felt with you after DeLuca broke up with you so…”

“…Touche my friend, touche. I gotta go, we’ll complain together later.”

“I’m holding you on that.” Amber walks past Jo and enters the pit when Levi Schmitt comes out and approaches Jo from behind.

“Abdominal pain consult in the ER.” Jo groans at that before snapping her fingers at Levi.

“I have faith in you.

“Covid test is still pending.” Levi informs Jo who slumps in defeat.

“I feel like I could just lay down and die.”

“Ah.” Levi imitates spitting to Jo’s confusion, “You really shouldn't say that during a pandemic.”

Levi goes back inside with Jo sulking for a minute before she puts her mask on and goes to her patient inside. Jo puts her protective shield on before going inside the trauma room where a blonde woman wearing a mask, face shield and gloves is sitting on the table clutching her stomach in pain.

“Val Ashton?” Jo starts, “Hi. I'm Dr. Karev. Okay, so you've had abdominal pain and vomiting for the last two weeks?”

“But it's not Covid.” Val insists, “I have gone nowhere, seen no one, touched nothing. I couldn't stop talking to the nurse that took my blood. It was the first in-person conversation I had had in months. I told her about the fight with my co-worker, all about my ex. And I think I invited her to lunch.”

Jo chuckles, “Don't worry. They're used to it.” Jo goes over Val’s chart in her tablet, “Okay, so your labs came back already, and…congratulations. You don't have Covid. You're just pregnant.”

Val looks at Jo in shock and utters a single word, “What?”

“Pregnant.” Jo repeats.

“What?”

“Yaay?” Jo says in the form of a question leaving Val to look at her in utter shock at this news.

An Hour Later

After the ultrasound from Carina confirmed there was no fetus in the uterus Jo ordered an abdominal scan for Val to find the underlying issue for her stomach pains. She asked Amber to assist her because she knows with Webber restricting residents from treating covid patients her resident sister-in-law is bored from doing scut and mandating patient entry.

“Thanks for letting me in on this I really needed it especially since Webber decided to punish Koracick by making him residency program director which also punishes us.”

“Yeah of course I figured it was either let you work close with me or risk getting Koracick punched in the face and you losing your job.”

“You make it sound like those are bad things.”

Bailey comes inside the monitor room, “Karev, I need you to keep covering Grey's service. I'm hoping to persuade Dr. Webber to come back to the OR, whenever he finishes adjusting his crown. Chief of chiefs. I could be chief of chiefs.”

“You'd be really good at that.” Amber says.

“What do you got?” Bailey asks

“Abdominal pain, vomiting, positive beta HCG. She's not pregnant, but I want to rule out a mass.” The scans pull up.

“Okay I see a mass it’s in the liver.”

Bailey looks at the scans astonishes, “That is no mass. That is a fetus.”

“She is pregnant, but her baby is attached to her liver?” Jo gasps at this in wonder while Amber chuckles in delight until Bailey steps in.

“Mine.”

“Hell no.” Amber retorts facing her boss, “This patient doesn’t have covid and I need something to lift up my spirits.” Bailey stares down at the resident who stares back with equal intimidation, “I’ve faced scarier things chief the only way you’re getting me out is tossing me across the floor.”

“Do you want to see that happen?” Bailey asks threateningly which doesn’t faze Amber as they continue to stare down with Jo looking on in worry.

“Okay as primary I will call the shots. Amber, I love you, but Bailey is my boss so get out.” Amber scoffs and turns to Jo who speaks before she can, “Go.”

“Fine.” Amber growls and stands up stomping out of the room with Bailey taking her place in joy as they look at the scans of the baby inside Val’s liver.

Later

Jo sees Alex in the middle of the empty peds floor and approaches him with a tablet in her hand.

“Hey are you busy?”

“Well, my best friend is being monitored by her sister and my sister’s ex-boyfriend so that leaves me time to sort out my empty floor where every surgery has been rescheduled for the next three months. I’m free for whatever you have as long as it’s not mundane.”

Jo chuckles, “Oh then you are gonna love this.” She hands him the tablet and shows Alex Val’s scans, “Val Ashton 35, came in with abdominal pain and vomiting, labs showed that she was pregnant but there was nothing in the ultrasound so we ran scans to see what the issue was.”

Alex looks at the scans, “Tumor in her liver that released HCG? I’m lost on why you came to me with this.”

“Because that mass in her liver is a fetus.” Jo explains and grins at Alex looking at her with wide eyes, “Yep you heard me my patient has an abdominal pregnancy.”

“I can see why you came to me.” Alex says with a grin relieved to have a case, “Is the fetus viable?”

“Carina DeLuca is about to do an ultrasound and we’ll get answers. If the baby is viable, we need to get them out so the growing placenta doesn’t rupture Val’s liver. We want you there so you can explain the risks the baby will face if she decides to keep it.”

“Okay yeah I can do that lead the way.” Jo leads Alex away from the peds floor to Val’s room.

Later

“There's a baby in my liver?” Val asks Jo with Alex next to her while Carina does an ultrasound on Val’s side where her liver is hearing a heartbeat.

“You have what's called an abdominal pregnancy, where the fetus develops outside of the uterus. You're about 26 weeks.”

“And so far, the heartbeat is strong which indicates viability.”

“That’s right and it’s very good in cases like this.” Carina says as she wipes away the gel, “Val, these pregnancies don't normally survive to term, but your baby is very much alive. Your case is extremely rare.”

“He made me feel like crap for eight years.” Val explains, “Every time IVF didn't work…he would look at the doctor and say, ‘Well, what can she do differently next time?’ When clearly it was his fault. Because I had a one-night stand with a guy that wears square computer glasses, and I'm knocked up.”

Alex nods understanding her pain from having his dream of having a baby with Jo stalled by covid.

“Val.” Carina sits by Val’s side and asks her cautiously, “Do you want this baby?”

Val inhales with tears in her eyes before nodding.

“Okay. Then we need to deliver her today.” Jo explains, “The growth of the placenta could cause the liver to bleed at any moment, and we need to operate to save you both, now.”

“It's a girl?” Val asks with a smile behind her mask.

Alex grins and nods, “Yes, it is.”

“Luna.” Val says rubbing her own belly, “That's her name. Ever since I was a little girl, I knew my daughter's name. I want to call her Little Moon, like the book, my mom would read it to me all the time.”

“Val.” Carina says and Val looks up nodding.

“Yeah, okay. Let's get her out!” Val gives consent in joy and the doctors look at each other knowing it’s not gonna be an easy surgery.

Two Hours Later

Jo and Bailey expose the liver revealing the baby inside as the scans show waiting for Alex and Carina to gown up so they can take the baby.

“Is she viable?” Alex asks as he spins while the nurse gowns him.

“Come see for yourself. Liver's exposed.” Bailey says causing Alex and Carina to observe the liver where they see the amniotic sac attached to the liver to their wonder.

“Wow.” Carina says in shock.

“Hello there, Little Moon.” Alex greets the baby before Bailey and Jo go over the steps of the procedure. Alex and Carina start the c-section and take out the small baby immediately, putting her inside the incubator while Bailey and Jo try to save the liver.

“Alex, I'm not seeing any movement.”

“Damn it.” Alex curses, “We need to intubate.” Alex and Carina try to intubate Luna while Jo and Bailey try to stop the heavy bleeding.

“How's Luna?” Jo asks.

Carina responds while helping Alex, “Apgar 2, maybe 3.” “We’re still trying to get the tube in.” Alex tries to intubate Luna, “Come on Luna you got this come on.” He successfully intubates her, “I’m in, bag her and get her up to the unit now let’s go!” Alex and Carina hurriedly take the incubator out of the OR while Jo and Bailey work hard to save Val’s life.

That Night

Jo is in the NICU looking down at her and Alex’s patient, Luna, who is hooked up to leads and wires in an incubator. The sight of the tiny premie breaks Jo’s heart but knowing the baby’s story gives her hope in a hopeless time.

“Hi, Luna.” Jo coos at the baby as she holds her tiny hand, “Hi. Your mommy is asleep right now, but she is gonna be so excited to meet you.”

Bailey approaches them with a grin, “See? Joy.”

Jo chuckles lightly, “She developed in a liver and was born in a pandemic. She is a survivor.”

“Your work these last few days hasn't gone unnoticed.” Bailey compliments, “Thank you.”

Jo nods and grows solemn at the reminder knowing why she’s so busy, “Meredith has to be okay, Bailey. She has to be okay.” The woman stand there looking at the baby hoping their good friend will make it through this virus.

Later

“We’re gonna need to keep you for observation for the next month.” Alex informs Val who is bleary from her surgery, “Dr. Karev and Dr. Bailey did their best to resect your liver without doing too much damage but we need to be safe and keep a close eye on you. Now we’ll do daily scans on your abdomen to make sure your liver isn’t failing. Worst case scenario we put you on the transplant list and wait for a match to fall through. And until then we would put you on dialysis to buy you some more time.”

“And what about Luna?” Val asks worried, “Is she gonna be okay?”

“She needs to be constantly monitored in the NICU while her lungs continue to form. Now she’s 26 weeks so we would have her incubated for the next 19 weeks till she reaches full term.”

“Can I hold her? Or visit her?”

Alex sighs, “I want to say yes but her immune system is still compromised and you’re still fresh out of surgery moving one of you could raise complications. We would need to wait until you’re discharged so you can visit her. Now I can set up a camera so you can watch her and talk to her while you’re both recovering. I’m sorry but it’s the best I can do right now.”

Val sighs in sadness, “…This is not how I imagined having a baby after all this time but I wouldn’t change it if it meant finally having Luna.”

Alex nods understanding, “If it makes you feel better my plans for having a baby have been recently stalled too.”

“Fertility issues?”

“Not exactly.” Alex sits in a chair next to Val, “My wife, Dr. Karev, told me she was finally ready to start a family and I was excited to be a dad. We were gonna adopt instead of getting pregnant because we were both kids in the system and we know it can be a brutal upbringing. We bought a house, we bought furniture to make it look picture perfect for social services, we were finally ready to start a family…but then March happened, and all our efforts went out the window. We’re now waiting as patiently as we can to get a social worker to visit and approve us and every minute that passes feels-”

“Like an eternity?” Val finishes understanding, “It’s how I felt before, during and after IVF. It felt like I was never gonna have a baby, like it was my fault somehow and to find out it wasn’t my fault at all makes me angry…but you telling me my baby is finally out. It makes all that anger disappear and I feel joy. God, I feel so much joy.”

Alex grins at that, “I could use some of that joy right now, can you share?”

“No.” Val’s blunt answer makes Alex chuckle. She frowns as a horrible scenario comes into her head that makes her look at Alex square in the face, “I need you to promise me something. Promise me that if I die, you’ll make sure Luna walks out of this hospital if I can’t.”

“Val…I can’t make promises.” Alex sadly tells her.

“I know but I need you to promise you will do everything you can to make sure Luna is okay. You will try any procedure, you will get her into a trial, you will do anything to make sure one of us makes it out of this alive. I need you to promise that you will take care of my Little Moon if I can’t, from one desperate parent to another please promise me.”

Alex looks at Val in awe before holding her hand and looking into her eyes with conviction, “I promise.” Val sniffles and looks at Alex gratefully as he holds her hand with the both of them feeling hopeful.

Epilogue

Amber is alone in the resident’s lounge putting her casual clothes on feeling drained once again after another long day. What was supposed to be her first surgery in weeks turned She has been in charge of the line outside which got her into little arguments with people who refuse to fully wear their masks and keep a six feet distance.

It got to the point where one of them spit on her and she spent ten minutes furiously scrubbing her face with rubbing alcohol afraid of the germs and angry at the ass who demeaned her. Now all Amber wants to do is go to Jackson’s penthouse, drink his expensive alcohol and watch bad reality tv. A knock on the door calls her and she turns to find her roommate Jackson Avery standing outside the door in his casual wear and black mask looking at her in worry.

“I heard what happened. Did the guy really spit in your face when you told him to stop acting like an idiot and put his mask on and keep a safe distance?”

Amber groans putting her black mask on, “Yep, I did the silkwood shower on my face right after I think I peeled off a layer of my own skin. I don’t want to talk about it I just want to go home, watch The Bachelorette and wonder where my life is going after today.”

“I’ll join you; I got a feeling Hannah is gonna eliminate Peter.”

Amber scoffs at that, “Please you wish, Peter is going all the way, Mike is next mark my words.”

Jackson’s eyes widen offended, “Oh we’ll see about that Mike is her dream man, loser does the laundry?”

Amber chuckles at her friend, “You’re on, make sure to fold my delicates I like them neat and organized.”

“Same. Let’s go.” Amber slings her backpack on and is about to walk towards him when Owen Hunt comes in with a numb face wearing his scrubs and mask.

“Good I caught you both before you left.”

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asks concerned.

Owen looks solemn but faces Amber with regret getting straight to the point, “Amber your test came back just now, your positive for covid 19, I’m sorry.”

Jackson and Amber are stunned by this with him standing by the doorway looking at Amber worried she’ll faint like Meredith. Amber is standing by her cubby with her backpack on looking frozen with shock before she chuckles uneasily.

“Is this a joke? I’m not symptomatic, I feel fine. Did Koracick or Alex put you up to this because it is the worst punking in the history of ever.”

“No this isn’t a joke.” Owen says with a serious tone, “The test is right here you can look at it if you want.”

Owen puts the tablet on the table six feet away from Amber who takes it and looks at her results with a small gasp. She looks up at Jackson who looks down in worry but pulls out his phone.

“I’ll book you a hotel room to quarantine and tell your family.” He puts the phone to his ear, “And April we should get tests too.”  

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before sitting on the bench while Jackson makes calls. At this moment she feels a fear in her chest she’s never experienced before as a doctor and as of now a patient.

[hunterssm00n]

Deal

What first starts out as a cruel prank turns into a night of unmatched passion. | Waylon Jones/OC |

part 1 of 3

also on ao3: here

*cw include smut, explicit situations, size kink, teratophilia, fear play, dirty talk, anxiety attack, extremely mild dubcon (for point one second but tagging just in case), graphic description* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

/ / Hunger / /

The door slammed shut behind her with finality as she stumbled into the room, as she'd been thrown through the opening by the guards. Her palms scraped on the damp stone floor, but she ignored it as she immediately tried to scramble back up to try and escape. The door was heavy with reinforced steel, and she could just barely hear the cackling of the guards over the heavy clank of it being locked from the other side. Was this really happening? In her workplace, no less?!

Kris had thought working for Arkham would be different. She'd thought it was a fresh start - and for the most part, it was. But this... This had been a long time coming. Many of the workers here were good people, who wanted to actually help the asylum's patients like they were supposed to be doing. Not these people. Gotham had scum everywhere, and they even found their way into service jobs: hospitals, police, even Arkham. And now they had locked her in here; the lowest level of the architecture, the old sewer tunnels... with him. 

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling on her side of the door, and she could feel the vibrations from the thugs on the other side pounding on the steel. She could hear them too, over the similar pounding of her heart in her head.

"Now just remember, love, scream if you need us!"

"Don't worry, a few have come out of there alive! Granted, heh, not all in one piece..." 

"I wonder if he'll fuck you before he eats you - or maybe after!"

Kris started backing away from the door, enough so that their voices were mostly muffled, but before she went too far she turned to face the new surroundings she’d been thrown into. 

There wasn't much to see, thanks to the dim lighting, but from what she could tell it was basically a tomb with brick archways that looked like they would crumble at any moment, and long, endless tunnels full of murky water. It was so eerily quiet, save for the sounds of running water both close and distant, as well as drips collecting into the pools all throughout the cavernous underground of the old sewers - the place she was now locked in.

Her breathing was rapidly increasing, making her mind go hazy, the edges of her vision fuzzy, and she knew she needed to stop and gain control before she passed out. Leaning against the rough brick wall for support, she slowly slid down, until her bottom hit the damp, slippery stone floor under her feet. Normally she would never sit on such a slimy surface, but right now her head was spinning so much she debated even lying down. Kris felt that cool, coppery sensation in her throat, and she wondered if she was going to vomit. She gulped in huge breaths of air, thinking about the moment a few days ago that had landed her in this very situation.

She worked in an office at Arkham Asylum as a clerk, but the layout for the campus was... interesting, to say the least. Right down the hall from the clerical office was the psychiatry area, where patient sessions were happening at all hours of the day. She'd been walking down the hallway to the fax machine, turned the corner - and there he was: Waylon Jones, aka, Killer Croc; shackled and either going in for a mandated therapy session or coming out of one. Both he and the guards surrounding him appeared to be in a heated argument - one that she surprisingly hadn't heard as she’d been walking towards them. Honestly to her, it wasn't that surprising though; sometimes she got so focused on what was going on inside her head that the outside world just melted into a low hum.

Kris had stopped in her tracks, not knowing what to do from the surprise of it. But then the altercation had turned physical. Screams from nearby psychiatrists and nurses mixed with the ragged ferocity of Croc's voice, plus shouted threats from the guards made for a cacophony of chaos. He'd knocked people down, and some of them were sent flying during his rampage - which, from what she had seen of his crimes, was tame in comparison - and somehow, his eyes set on her down the hall. She thought he'd just been looking for who to hurt next; what other violence and terror he could inflict. Before she knew it he was in front of her, and had her pinned back against the wall, staring down at her with his somehow still shackled hands resting on the wall above her head, body vibrating with rage and exertion. Kris hadn't even realized she’d put both hands on his massive, scaly and muscular chest to keep him at bay from crushing her - not that that would have stopped him if he'd really wanted to do it.

The guards a few feet away were all groaning on the ground, backup had yet to arrive, and Killer Croc was standing over her, sandwiching her between the wall and his hard, large body. And he hadn't killed her. He'd been trying to intimidate her, sure (probably because he'd caught her staring),  as well as everyone else, but he didn't hurt her. She thought he had intended to, but her hands on his chest had taken him by surprise as much as it had her. He'd leaned down close and smelled her hair, and his shackled hands that were bigger than her whole head had lowered so he could take a piece of the dark strands between his fingers. "Such soft hands," he murmured, rasping voice now a low rumble that Kris could feel vibrate beneath her palms on his abdomen. "Such a sweet scent," His voice dropped another octave, and and she knew now it was because the next part was only for her to hear: "I wonder if you taste as good as you smell..."

Despite the situation at hand, Kris had felt heat rise to her cheeks, and embarrassingly she’d felt it elsewhere, too. And he'd noticed, he had to have noticed, because he chuckled lowly in surprised amusement - and then to her horror and even further embarrassment he'd inhaled even more deeply. To anyone else it looked like he was just being his usual, scary self - but none of them had heard what he'd said to her. Thank god.

And then at some point the guards had come to and backup had arrived and they'd pulled him off of her (only because he'd let them, she was sure), and she’d been in a daze for hours afterwards. When they had pulled him away from her, he'd told her, "I've got your scent, sweet one," 

Later that day when she’d taken her panties off, they'd been absolutely soaked - they'd practically stuck to her.

And apparently word had gotten around to the scummier guards and orderlies that Croc had cornered her and not killed her, and non-surprisingly it had piqued their interest. 

And now here she was. 

Think, think, think - no, get yourself under control first, you can't do anything if you faint.

Kris struggled to control her breathing, idly looking around at her surroundings. Leaning her head back against the wall, a bunch of things were going through her head at this moment, but she tried to make her mind blank so as not to have that aide in her passing out. In her mind she made a simple plan: I'll find a way out of here, I'll go to Aaron Cash, and I'll report them. Sometimes simplifying what needed to be done greatly helped her in situations. For this one, it was a good start. 

Catching her breath, she wondered if there were cameras down here. If she could find one, maybe she could alert someone that she was trapped down here... in the Croc's lair. 

Kris hadn't forgotten about last week - not at all. But she was trying really hard to stay calm, and thinking about him did not keep her calm at all. She’d seen him before a few times, but only from afar. Not that close; never that close.

Plus, what he'd said to her, how he'd acted... it had to have all been for show, right? Even if he had growled those things just low enough for her and only her to hear... she shook the thought out of her head. Right now she just needed to focus on getting out.

From somewhere not too far from where she sat, a splash hit the water. She turned quickly to locate the source of the sound, but noticed that it was just some rubble breaking off from the ceiling. She was relieved, but also sarcastically thought to herself Great, on top of everything else, now I'll have to worry about the goddamn place collapsing on me.

Then, from out of nowhere it seemed, he rose up from out of the water, jumping up and landing on the stone floor a few feet from her, with a thud that shook the ground beneath her. Her heart went to her throat and she gasped so sharply it hurt, and she wondered Is this it? Is this really it? 

A low hiss was emanating from him as he straightened to his full height, which had to have been at least eight feet tall. It was then that his eyes focused, really focused on her, and he tilted his scale covered head to the side, curiously. "Well if it isn't the pretty one with the soft hands - thought I was hallucinating there for a moment." He chuckled lowly, the sounding causing her insides to quiver, and not necessarily in a bad way. "What's a sweet little thing like you doing down here in my dark, dank abode?" 

Kris couldn't find her words. What on earth was she even supposed to say to him? Was there really anything to say? It was just like the scummy guys outside the door were saying - he was probably just going to eat her anyways. What was even the point? 

His head lifted from her to the door, and it was then that she noticed that the dirtbag guards and orderlies on the other side of the door were still pounding on it and jeering through the thick steel. And that meant that Croc could definitely hear it, too. 

He growled low in his chest, and took a few more steps onto the stone floor away from the edge by the water. Each step felt like a tiny earthquake underneath her, and she instinctively pulled her legs up towards her chest, as though trying to shrink back into the wall. Croc turned an ear towards the door, tilting his head once again, his golden-yellow eyes focusing on her, and they were once again regarding her curiously. His brow grew heavier over his eyes the more he heard what the men on the other side of the door were saying. "Scum." he snarled, the ferocity of his uttered word making her jump. Even when he wasn't speaking there were... noises coming out of him. Reptilian-like noises, every time he exhaled. But something about the venom injected into that single word sent a chill up her spine and made her flinch.

He noticed this - she imagined that not much escaped his gaze, him being an apex predator and all that. His senses were keen, far keener than any normal human. He noticed her - he saw her.

Now he took a few steps towards her, and Kris pulled her legs up to her chest as much as she could, making herself look as small as possible. He didn’t stop until he was right before her, only a mere few inches from her feet, and then he stopped. He crouched before her, every exhale a hot, deep rasp of air that she could feel on her skin under her clothes. She knew you weren’t supposed to look predators in the eye, but she was more afraid to look away - to take her eyes off of him. And honestly… she didn’t want to. He was so interesting to look at. She’d seen him before the event a few days ago, a couple of times. Down the hall being led in and out of his therapy sessions, on security footage whenever there was an incident involving him (there were many), and on his paperwork, which she had helped file when he arrived. Up close, he was even more mesmerizing. 

Even crouched he still towered over her, and he slowly reached out a hand towards her; towards her head. He took a piece of her black hair between his claw-tipped fingers once again, and it appeared as though his movements were deliberately slow because he was trying not to scare her. “So the scourge of Arkham sends in such a pretty little morsel for me to play with. Tell me; do you think they’re expecting you to come out alive?” 

Kris shuddered openly at his words, his proximity, his yellow eyes that seemed to be staring into her very soul. Her gaze dropped to the ground- what was she supposed to do now? She felt defeated, even more than scared. “Just do what you’re gonna do.” Her words carried practically no volume, and a tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her knee. 

He released her hair, and one massive, claw-tipped appendage slid under her chin to gently tilt her face back up to look at him. He tilted his own large, scale covered head at her, a low rumble emanating from him as he appeared to study her. “I’m not gonna eat you.” he rumbled, his voice softer - well, as soft as his harsh rasp could be. Softer much like in the way he’d said… what he’d said to her upstairs, for her ears only. And then he said, “Not in the way you’re thinking.” 

She thought back to what he’d said to her a few days ago: I wonder if you taste as good as you smell… and god help her, she felt that same heat between her legs that she’d felt the first time. She looked at him knowingly, her eyes wide with realization. He chuckled deeply, the sound rumbling from his massive chest through his arm and into her, and she felt herself grow wet. Something about his voice…

The pounding from the steel door grew more pronounced, more frantic from the other side, it seemed, and Croc flicked a glance over his massive shoulder before turning that gaze back to her and saying: “So whaddya say we cut a deal?” 

Kris looked at him in question, but nodded. If he was going to eat her - as in swallow her and then digest her in pieces - there probably wouldn’t be any talk about a deal… right? 

His yellow gaze burned into her with heat and he said, “You let me get a taste of of that sweet pussy-“ She felt a clench down below at his crass, direct words, “-and then I’ll let you go.” The hand that had been under her chin was now held out in front of her, waiting for her to shake. “Deal?” 

The steel door still had pounding coming from the other side, and it seemed like they were trying to bust the damn thing down. Kris made her decision: she took his huge hand. Well, really he took hers. His hand enveloped hers completely, so much so that it was almost comical. And they shook on it. 

The banging on the door was near frenzied now, and Crocs golden eyes had a glint in them as he noticed - a mischievous one. “Wanna make them sweat a bit?” 

Those assholes had thrown her in here, not knowing what would happen to her, all for a late night joke. With resolve she nodded again, and Croc now rose to his full height, towering over her, and offered her his hand. She looked at him - towering height, scale covered body, thick with muscle and power, yellow eyes - and she took his hand once again, letting him pull her up off the ground. As soon as she was standing on her own two feet, he swung her up into his arms bridal style, making her gasp in surprise, and he turned towards the water. “Hold tight, pretty one.” He rasped as the door behind them began to creak as it was being attempted to be opened. Kris clutched her arms around his thick, sinewy neck, and then Croc jumped with her in his arms into the water.

He turned the corner to go left down the maze of tunnels right as the door was finally pulled open. Thankfully he didn’t submerge them, or any part of her at all, and standing at his full height the water only came up to his hips. Over the sound of him breathing (with every exhale being a grating rasp) and the sound of running water all around them, she could hear the guards and orderlies voices echoing from somewhere behind them in the cavernous tunnel, calling out, and much to her delight, sounding worried and fearful. They’d been trying to scare her - and now who was scared? She snickered at the thought of them scrambling to try and figure out how to explain this one, and she noted Croc tilt his head down at her in amusement. “You’re a little twisted too, ain’cha?” 

Without much thought about the question, she shrugged, still looking over Crocs shoulder behind them at the flashlight beams that were growing steadily more and more distant the farther they went. In truth, she did have a twisted side, but wouldn’t normally share that info with most people. This situation, however… was a little different. A lot different, actually. 

Soon, they rounded another corner, and the flashlight beams in the distance faded altogether, as well as the voices. Internally she felt gleeful with vengeance - she imagined the fear when she was not sitting and cowering where they’d left her, and the panic they were probably feeling right now. She didn’t think they’d intended to actually have anything happen to her - they were just looking to scare her. A joke, if you will; something that could easily be glanced over by HR with a slap on the wrist, don’t do it again. But now, now they were scared. And she reveled in it. 

She looked at Croc, who was facing forward, watching where they were walking, and she squeaked out, “Thank you,” 

He looked at her, and she saw his yellow eyes had surprise in them. He rumbled, “No need to thank me. Eye for an eye - a kindness for a kindness.” 

Kris puzzled over his words, and balked at his fairness. This was not anything she’d ever heard about him; the savage, bloodthirsty animal that only saw humans as food and nothing else. 

“A kindness…?” She didn’t want to question him and his logic, less he kill her for not knowing what he was talking about, but admittedly she was confused. What kindness was he referring to, exactly, that she’d done for him?

He ceased walking when they came to a four way set of tunnels, and he fixed his yellow gaze on her once again. “You touched me with no malice, and you looked at me without fear,” His eyes could practically light her on fire, they burned so much. She shivered under his gaze. “To me, that’s a kindness. It’s… refreshing.” He continued on walking then, turning right and bringing them deeper into the tunnels. “Not many people look at me like they’re not afraid; if they do they’re usually crazy,” Here he gave her a side eye that she could tell was meant to be a playful insinuation; maybe she was crazy, too. 

“Well,” She cleared her throat, shrugging, “I do work here,” 

He let out a bark of laughter as though surprised at her humor, and she realized that she enjoyed making him laugh. 

“If ya ain’t gone crazy yet, just give it time,” 

Kris couldn’t help but crack a smile; she liked his humor, too. 

The two walked for a little bit longer, his steady, rasping breathing strangely lulling amidst the sounds of running water and dripping. She was glad this wasn’t an actual sewer anymore, to say the least. 

After a few moments they came upon an area that had a little more lighting to it, but not by much. That was okay though; she liked the dark. And so did her new, scaly ‘friend’, it seemed. As they neared a platform that was enclosed with three walls, looking more solid than some of the floating wooden boards, she saw that atop of the stone slab was a mattress (a very large one) and a few more assorted items… along with what she soon realized were bones strewn about. 

She shuddered, and he noticed, “Sorry - woulda cleaned up if I’d known I was having company,” He didn’t say it maliciously, more almost sympathetically. 

Kris didn’t know what to say to this, so she just kept her mouth shut. She didn’t imagine he had much company down here - unless it was food. 

“Do you… really eat people?” She didn’t know why she asked this, but she felt the need to, for some reason. Seeing the bones made this situation all the more real. 

He huffed out a chuckle, leaping up out of the water and landing on his two huge clawed feet on the edge of the stone platform - and scaring the shit out of her in the process. “I really eat people,” he intoned, his words dark but with a hint of that same amusement. Kris began to wonder if this was a good idea after all; the sight of the human bones really making her fidgety in his impossibly strong arms.

He felt her tense in his arms and gave her a squeeze; his chest was rock hard against her left rib cage, and she took in a few deep breaths to try and calm herself. Was this the part where she should be fighting for her life? Should she really have trusted him? 

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he hissed, the crocodile purr pleasant but so fucking predatory at the same time. Kris shifted in his grip, on the verge of struggling, as he walked them towards his gigantic mattress on the stone ground. There were little pools of water on the floor in places between the cracks, and every time he took a step they rippled, as though there was an earthquake. 

Should I try to escape? Fuck, I’m such an idiot-

“It’s like music to my ears,” He stopped when they reached the side of the bed, gazing at her with a glimmer in those deadly yellow eyes. “Usually I don’t have a chance to savor the sound,” His grip tightened on her once again, not enough to hurt, but if it did anymore it probably would. “I just get so hungry,” 

Breathe, breathe, think, think- 

“Luckily, tonight,” 

Fuckfuckfuckfu-

“I can savor you for as long as we both want.” 

…What?! 

Unable to stand it anymore, she gulped and asked point blank, “Croc, are you… sure you're not gonna eat me?” She was afraid to hear the answer; afraid she had wandered into a trap - right into the mouth of the crocodile, literally. 

He chuckled deeply, the sound vibrating pleasantly in his chest and coursing through her body as it was pressed to his - she felt that same arousal as before even though she was scared. What the hell is wrong with me? 

“Well,” he said in amusement, “the deal was for just a little taste… but if you really want me to, that can be arranged, too.” 

It was then that she realized he was fucking with me. 

Kris balked once again, a little outraged that he was enjoying scaring her. “You- Fuck you!“ 

“Don’t sweat it little one - I just like the way your heartbeat sounds when you’re afraid,” A flash of heat went through his yellow eyes, “Kinda like thisss,” 

And then he threw her onto the bed, and when her back hit the mattress he came down on top of her, his massive body surrounding her, and there was nothing she could do - there was nowhere to go; he was everywhere.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

AN: I do not own the Batman: Arkham Asylum franchise or any of it's characters, but Kris is my own OC.

part two