#disability paperwork done and everything

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[iguinn]

Urgent Donation Please Read

Hi this is Cross and everything went sideways all at once this morning but badically.

Our fridge completely broke down and we need a new one asap, were out of our mom's insurance and we can't get our own because of various reason, we need money to get the necessary paperwork for our disability to be back in our mom's insurance asap and it will take months to arrive, until then we need money for our meds and our yearly ear doctor consultation, our mom who needs monthly eye injections because she had a stroke last year and it deeply affected her eye and she only has one and because her request to have the injections done for free at the hospital will take months to process she needs to still pay for months worth of injections plus some even more disability paperwork she requested for us and her hasn't even gone through yet and we need that for better disability aid since that is the only income we have plus some that helps us pay a bit of our rent cause our mom isnt working at the moment and we are starting college this month and cant work, thankfully the money to pay college isnt a huge issue cause we got a huge disability scholarship cause they accepted our old paperwork but we will need update ones before the semester ends to keep it which is ideal since while we have no income other than aid we would still have to pay less than normal it would still be over the money of our current scholarship and therefore less affordable. So with the fridge and all that bullshit plus just wanting to have at least three months worth of the injections mom needs saved up its about 2000€ IF and thats a very big if we get the money before October 1st to get this all in order asap and we need 400€ right now for the fridge cause we decided to go for the insurance after this disaster this morning. Yes this all happened today September 3rd 2023 before 11 am. So please please help us out we dont know what to do.

Our paypal is https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/froilovemail

The goal for the fridge:

0€/400€

The rest of the money before October:

0€/1600€

Thank you all very much.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I’ve been struggling lately with the feeling that my job is pointless. Intellectually I know it is not—nursing is one of those professions where you get to be real smug about knowing the value of your work. But it’s still felt very pointless. Like I’ll start a shift thinking, “what am I even doing here,” and end it thinking, “what have I actually even done.” It’s been a ROUGH couple months.

But I had a really good shift last time I worked, which was good for the soul and also a very useful data point. I got to do pain management advocacy and symptom management, met a bunch of cool patients, did education for new nurses, and had several long heart to hearts, which the kind of midnight heart to hearts that I think are the most important part of night shift, all of that while being well staffed with very pleasant and appreciative patients and coworkers, and I was still like. Pretty depressed. I had a sense of satisfaction and moments of joy and meaning, but it turns out that one good shift did not cure the depression that has been latched on to me for the last few months like some kind of fucked up mental health leech. As I realized I was still depressed and that it was still interfering with my life even when everything was going well, the sense of peace washed over me was the best I’d felt in a while. Because I was like, okay! None of my usual stuff as worked! I have no excuse not to try something new to get my brain out of the shit ditch it’s slipped into.

So I’m applying for short-term disability. I’m worried I won’t get it, and I’m not sure what the next step is if I get rejected, but I feel so much better having decided to pursue it. It’s so much fuckin paperwork for sure, to a degree that’s overwhelming except that that the form could be a checkbox that says, “you want money?” and I’d be like “THIS IS TOO MUCH.” I’m totally not writing this post instead of finishing an email to my manager. I’m definitely not writing this post to avoid dealing with coordinating all my various care providers. I’m certainly not at every moment worried that I’m secretly faking all this so I can get three to nine weeks of a cool summer vacation.

I was thinking about how I almost flunked nursing school in my final semester because I turned in assignments late for a class with a “no late homework” policy. The professor said that this was reflective of real life, where if you miss deadlines you’re just fucked. I ended up appealing my grade and passing, because frankly it was a weak reason for making me repeat a final semester when there was no issues with my actual work or knowledge. During my appeal, I was like “I also think this policy is ableist. Harsh penalties for late work hurt students with health problems, especially chronic health problems when you aren’t asking for one week off due to the flu but instead for a general and never ending flexibility. I’m not trying to make an excuse but explain why this policy is a bad one. Disabled healthcare workers are an asset to healthcare.” I’m trying to remember my own argument as I pursue help. My depression and ADHD and eating disorder do help me be a better nurse, not because like depression gives you superpowers, but because I manage my chronic illnesses every day, in ways that range from hardly noticeable to life or death. Being kind to patients means being kind to myself, and vice versa.

I’m rambling. I really do not want to do this paperwork or send these emails. And I’m not sure if I deserve the leave I’m trying to take. But I miss being love with my job. I miss enjoying it. I wouldn’t judge someone else for going on medical leave, and my job doesn’t want me to burn out or quit. It almost feels like I have to be skeptical of applying for leave because no one else is. Everyone I’ve spoken to has been very supportive, including my manager. And considering how many unpaid days off I’ve had to take lately, disability leave would be an improvement over some of my recent paychecks. All in all, short-term disability makes sense and seems like a reasonable response to circumstances. But FUCK. I wish it required like 90 percent less documentation.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Love Me, Control Me (18+)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Danny Fenton

This is an NSFW aside to my Hyena!Danny AU part 1 of which can be found Here

This one shot contains: BDSM, restraints, choking, blindfolds, and various sex acts. This has also been posted on AO3 Here if you prefer that

----------

Jason knew that his job was important, and he enjoyed it, less in the things he Had to do, but the results were so rewarding. He saw them in everyone around him, how much happier and safer they all were. He wasn't changing the law, he wasn't eliminating crime, but he was making a Real difference in Real people's lives. It was good, and it was meaningful, but it meant getting his hands Very dirty. Sometimes he enjoyed that too, he felt a great deal of satisfaction in putting a monster out of everyone else's misery, but sometimes it wasn't like that.

Sometimes he didn't get there in time. Sometimes he found out that some of the dealers were still cutting their supply with dangerous additives Right under his nose and he had to purge. He had to put everyone else's worries at ease, patch the whole in the supply for the people who Needed the drugs, and deal with the outrage about his rules again. He had made them clear and they were reasonable but there were always going to be those greedy SOBs who had the misplaced confidence to believe rules didn't apply to them. 

All that to say it had been a very long day and he'd ended up staying late in his office. Who knew criminal organizations still had paperwork. Not legal stuff of course but he needed to keep track of everything and make sure the people who needed to know what was going on did.

Danny had brought him dinner and they had eaten Chinese takeout in his office but then Danny had gone home. Jason didn't blame him, he usually stayed until Jason left for the day as well but Jason couldn't Always expect Danny to stay. A part of him really hoped that Danny had plans, he really didn't seem to have any friends or bonds with anyone besides Jason, he should have other friends.

Jason practically dragged himself out of the office about an hour after Danny did, he was exhausted and disheartened, but he had done what needed to be done.

He went back to one of his nicer safe houses he'd started to consider home and let himself in through the window with a sigh, disabling his traps and taking off his helmet, running his hands back through his flattened hair. He froze when he heard a noise from his bedroom, his eyes scanning his apartment for any signs of disturbance...  there weren't any, and all his traps were still engaged. That was a very good sign it was Danny waiting for him in his room, he hadn't quite figured out How Danny got in, and at this point Jason suspected Danny was refusing to tell him because he thought it was funny.

Jason was cautious as he approached his room, just because he was pretty sure it was Danny was no reason to let his guard down after all, that would just be foolish. He nudged the door open with his foot and his jaw dropped when he saw Danny stretched out on his bed dressed in, to be frankly honest, almost nothing. He was wearing a pair of lace panties, and a green and black corset that cinched his already slim waist in even more. But the absolute pièce de résistance was the black collar buckled around Danny's neck and the leash currently wrapped casually around Danny's own wrist to keep it out of the way.

He noticed Danny was watching him with half lidded eyes and a slight smirk and closed his mouth with a slight click, swallowing dryly. Danny sat up gracefully, crossing one long leg over the other and smiling at Jason. "Welcome home Boss," Danny purred invitingly. "You had a very long day didn't you,let me help you unwind." He held the leash out to Jason in an open palm, offering it to him, along with all the control and dominance that it implied.

Jason stepped forward and took the leash from Danny's hand, wrapping it around his wrist and used it to pull Danny up to his feet. He followed gracefully without hesitation and pressed against Jason as he pulled Danny's head back and kissed him, deep and slow. The hand not holding the leash finding it's way to Danny's ass as he started to purr, pressing him even closer, Danny let out a soft moan as he pressed their hips together.

"You're so good to me Cub," Jason murmured as he sat down on the edge of the bed, yanking Danny down to his knees in front of him.

"Of course," Danny said, resting his hands on Jason's thighs and nuzzling against his crotch, blue eyes fixed on him from under dark lashes. "How do you want me tonight?"

Jason grinned and pulled the cuffs from his belt, he was still in his costume after all, including the utility belt. He spun them around one finger and Danny's gaze was drawn by the motion and he ginned as well. "In front or behind?" He asked without hesitation.

"Behind," Jason requested. Danny nodded and stood, turning his back to Jason and held his hands behind them for Jason to put the cuffs on him, trapping them behind his back, though Jason was completely sure if Danny needed to he could get out of them, he'd done it before.

With his wrists cuffed Danny turned back towards Jason, letting out a startled yip as he was yanked back to his knees, unable to catch himself he landed hard, letting out a little whimper. When he looked up at Jason Danny's pupils were blown wide with arousal and he nosed along Jason's thigh, nuzzling against his crotch with a needy little whine that went straight to Jason's dick which had been hard since the moment he saw Danny's outfit.

"You want a taste Baby," Jason purred and Danny whined again giving Jason a pleading pout. He talked very little when he was like this. Jason chuckled softly and used the leash to pull Danny back slightly, holding him away as Jason slowly unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants with one hand. Danny's eyes followed his motions intently, straining just slightly against the collar as Jason hooked his thump into his pants and boxers and pushed them down. He let out a relieved breath when his dick sprung free from the confines of his clothes, grinning wolfishly at the way Danny licked his lips, eyeing Jason's cock.

"I love how eager you are~" Jason praised, still holding Danny away, teasing him with what he so clearly wanted. It had taken Jason a little experimentation to figure out that, while Danny was alright with just about any rough treatment, and enjoyed being manhandled and choked, he had no tolerance for being insulted. He liked being praised, complimented, and called pet names and right now with the way Danny was half strangling himself with the collar Jason was sure he was enjoying himself.

"Alright Darling, go ahead," Jason chuckled breathlessly, as if he wasn't Just as eager for this as Danny is not more. He relaxed his grip on the collar and Danny collapsed forward a bit before catching himself, shuffling his position and lifting himself up more on his knees so he could kitten lick along the underside of Jason's dick making him moan. When Danny reached the top he swirled his tongue around the tip of Jason's dick before taking it into his mouth.

He moaned so softly Jason could barely hear it under his own sound of pleasure. He let the head of Jason's dick rest heavy on his tongue for a moment as he breathed through his nose, his eyes closed his brows pinched in an adorable expression of concentration. He started to purr as he slid down, taking Jason deeper into his throat as it started to vibrate around the shaft of Jason's cock.

"Holy shit Babe!" Jason exclaimed breathlessly, tangling one hand into Danny's hair. "I swear you're better then any sex toy!"

Danny laughed and Jason felt his thighs tense and a shiver run down his spine. Danny closed his lips around Jason firmly and started to suck, bobbing his head up and down eagerly, his sharp little fangs scraped ever so slightly sending a little thrill through Jason along with the almost overwhelming pleasure. He didn't try to hold back though, one orgasm wouldn't be enough for him, this was just to take the edge off so he could lavish Danny with the attention he deserved and fuck him slow.

Jason came with a loud moan, arching his back and grabbing the sheets rather then Danny's hair. Danny choked slightly as cum rushed down his throat before he could swallow. Swallowing quickly and pulling back just enough to collect Jason's cum on his tongue.

When Jason was done Danny pulled back, looking up at Jason with mischief in his expression despite his slightly glassy eyes. He opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out, and Jason's breath caught in his throat as he watched his cum drip down from Danny's tongue over his bare chest. Danny closed his mouth and swallowed the last of it before giving Jason a cheeky little smile that drove Jason absolutely Insane!

He yanked Danny up using the leash, hearing him gasp as Jason practically tossed him down on the bed, hungry eyes raking over Danny's body, watching his filthy chest heave as he squirmed. His dick was hard, peaking up above the edge of Danny's panties and he rubbed his thighs together absently, whimpering as he sought some stimulation or relief with his arms pinned under him. Jason leaned over Danny, hands on either side of his head and kissed him deeply, tasting his own seed on Danny's tongue as he kissed back with a happy little sigh.

"How do you feel about a blindfold tonight Moonlight?" Jason asked, caressing Danny's jaw lightly.

"Yes," Danny agreed softly, his voice rough and breathy with arousal.

Jason smiled down at him and kissed him once more before getting up off the bed to pull out their bin of toys. Mostly collected by Danny if Jason is honest, he never had much use for such things before Danny and he doesn't quite have the time or sexual creativity Danny does. While he's up Jason takes the chance to strip off most of his clothes, his armour, belt, shoes, jacket, shirt, and undershirt all left on the floor by the bed though he decides to keep his pants on for now without bothering to button them again. Once he was comfortable Jason popped open the bin and grabbed a black silk blindfold from it, wasting no time in placing it over Danny's eyes, who lifted his head obediently making it easy for Jason to tie it behind his head.

"Such a good boy," Jason murmured, running his thumbs along Danny's cheeks just bellow the blindfold affectionately.

Danny looked sinfully good at the moment, his lips and cheeks were flushed with arousal, his lips slightly swollen and spit slick. His nipples were hard and poking through the fabric of the corset where it was thin, managing to cover the scars Danny was self conscious off while truly hiding nothing. His skin was pale, showing his blush beautifully, his body hair was light, more white then black but the occasional patches of black hair only added more interest to Danny's already captivating loveliness.

Jason hooked his thumbs into Danny's panties and pulled them down slowly, once they were down Danny pressed his legs together, playing at being shy. Bound and blindfolded he looked it, demure and vulnerable, it made Jason want to eat him up~ He grabbed Danny's hips and rolled him over, yanking him up to his knees, startling a muffled yelp out of Danny as his face was forced into the bedding. Jason wrapped the leash around his wrist to free up his hands and grabbed Danny's ass, spreading his cheeks so he had a good view of Danny's hole, pink and twitching as Danny whimpered and tried valiantly not to squirm.

"You're so cute Danny," Jason praised before leaning in and running his tongue over Danny's perineum to his hole, pushing his tongue inside pulling a high little moan from Danny. His hands clenched and relaxed in turns, tugging against the cuffs without intention or feeling as he whimpered. Jason chuckled and lapped at Danny's insides, tongue fucking him without shame as Danny's thighs trembled and his breathing hitched.

Jason didn't stop until Danny's hole was puffy and pink, and slick with Jason's spit. He didn't even give Danny a chance to whine at being left empty before he was pushing two fingers into the smaller man's body making him moan louder. Jason knew Danny was drooling on the sheets as he fucked Danny open with his fingers, scissoring and massaging his insides until he was soft and yielding. It didn't take long, Danny was practised and trusting with no lingering tension to fight against Jason.

"Such a good boy, you take it so well for me," Jason praised breathlessly and Danny gave a happy little trilling noise and a sigh. "You look so beautiful, and you make the sweetest sounds, just for me," Jason murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against Danny's shoulder.

"Just for you, Boss," Danny sighed, vague and spacy. Jason had no doubt there wasn't a thought in that pretty little head right now.

"I know baby, so loyal for me hm?" Jason asked as he pulled his fingers out, gently pushing Danny over, rolling him back onto his back.

"Of course, love you," Danny murmured with a gentle smile on his face, his eyes probably closed behind the blindfold.

Jason's heart throbbed, warm and almost painful in his chest as he leaned down to brush his lips against Danny's without making it truly a kiss. "I love you too," he said like a promise before pulling back and digging through their bin of toys again, pulling out Danny's cockring.

Danny let out a small whine and squirmed a little when it was slid over his shaft and secured around the base. "You want to make me happy don't you Cub? You can't do that is you cum before me," Jason reminded gently and Danny subsided with a sigh. "That's right baby, I've got you," Jason crooned, gripping Danny's waist with his broad, callused hand and encouraging Danny to lift his hips. Danny allowed himself to be directed, lifting his hips obediently with an eager little sound.

"Please, want you," Danny whimpered desperately.

"Be patient Moonlight," Jason crooned, as though he wasn't just as eager to get inside Danny! But he did want to take just a moment to enjoy the view, truly savour how fucking lucky he is to have this man in his life and in his bed. There's no way in hell Jason deserves it, but he'd not going to question it and risk losing the absolute light of his life.

He pushed down his pants enough to free his dick again and grabbed Danny's thighs, pushing his knees up towards his chest as he rutted again Danny's ass. Danny was reduced to little whines and moans, pleading with out a doubt but with a tongue too clumsy to properly form words. Since Danny's tongue was useless anyway Jason slid two fingers into Danny's mouth, toying with his tongue and letting him suck on them to both distract him from, and add too, Jason's teasing.

He thrust in suddenly and Danny gasped, arched and cried out at the intrusion and then the pleasure as Jason sunk deep into Danny's ass, the cry tapering into a long moan once Jason's dick was fully seated inside him. His ass tensed slightly around Jason's member as if trying to pull him in deeper.

"That's right Love, always so hungry for it," Jason chuckled as he pulled out half way and pushed back in making Danny moan again. Jason withdrew his fingers before beginning to fuck Danny properly so he wouldn't accidentally bite.

"You... Too?" Danny asked between gasps.

"Of course pet, I always want you too," Jason promised and was rewarded by the dopiest, most delighted smile on Danny's face.

Jason chuckled and wrapped one hand around Danny's throat, pressing his thumb into Danny's windpipe just enough to make him wheeze. Danny wasn't getting quite as much air as he needed with how roughly he was being fucked, dizzy and lightheaded, and unable to see he couldn't think about anything besides the pleasure his Lover was giving him. Danny lost himself in the trust and of it, pleasure running frantic little laps around his head and up and down his body.

It wasn't long before his dick was a pretty pink above the ring preventing him from cumming and Danny's whines were taking on an almost pained quality of denied release. Jason chuckled breathlessly and did not slow down. "When I cum you will," Jason promised and Danny nodded with a little wheezing gasp, arching into Jason's hand on his throat, grounding and holding him.

Jason held himself back a bit longer, enjoying Danny's obedience and discomfort, before the coil of pleasure in his own gut got to be too much to ignore. He scrabbled to release the cock-ring, his ears ringing with Danny's cry of pleasure as he came, arching up off the bed and clamping down on Jason's dick.

Jason cursed and moaned breathlessly as he came as well, spilling deep inside Danny before they both collapsed to the bed. Overstimulated and still connected, wrapped up in one another as they struggled to catch their breath. Jason lingered there for a while, occasionally stealing small kisses from Danny, until he felt the other man's hands in his hair and realized Danny must have slid out of the cuffs. To confirm Danny leaned over and dropped the cuffs over the edge of the bed with a soft clatter before slipping off the blindfold and wrapping his arms back around Jason.

"Do you feel better Sunshine?" Danny asked softly, his voice still just slightly rough.

"So much better," Jason promised with a little smile, propping himself up to kiss Danny's lips deep and long. "Is that the corset Harley gave you?"

"Yep," Danny confirmed, laughing. "One of them."

"One of them?!" Jason practically squeaked and Danny gave him a sharp and teasing smile.

"I'm sure you'll be seeing the other ones soon~"

[sleepyshrooms]

hi everyone , my name is shroom and i’m a disabled queer person who needs some financial help . i recently started working again for the first time since being diagnosed with fibromyalgia and diabetes . finding work that will make proper accommodations for me is extremely rare , so when i got my most recent job and they were willing to make those accommodations , i was thrilled . 

obviously because i’m making this post , you can assume that things did not go well . it took them a week after hiring me to even start the paperwork process , and then they failed to submit it in time to meet the deadline for that week’s pay period . so i waited . one night i was working up front and a customer got pissed and threw a pizza at me . i took the rest of the night off and they texted me later on telling me to take a few days to myself . at first i thought they were being kind , but now that i’m texting and asking about getting paid and getting put back on the schedule , they’re not responding . and i’m realizing that they’re going to try and not pay me for the work i’ve done . 

i���m going to report everything to the department of labor and try to get this resolved , but in the meantime i could definitely use some support . i’m going to need to restock on insulin and needles very soon , which will run me about $85-90– $35 for three pens of both levemir and humalog , and anywhere from $10-15 for the needles . i don’t want to ask for too much but it would also be very cool to have some healthier food options to choose from so that i can try to get my blood sugar back to a normal level . 

if anyone can spare even a few dollars , it would mean the world to me . my commissions are also open if you’re interested !!

commissions post p-yp-l - paypal.me/ovmasai c-sh-pp - $soppdronning

[battleangel]

A History of Violence

I wonder if Kris Jenkins who was recently drafted in the second round by the Bengals, same name & same position as his father who was a Pro Bowler who played 10 seasons for the Panthers, Patriots & Jets, ever bothered to read what his father told the New York Times in 2011 about what it was like playing in the trenches in the NFL?

Kris Jenkins - View of Life in the NFL Trenches

Article Excerpt

"N.F.L. fans, people outside, they have no clue what goes on. This isn’t like playing Madden. This isn’t like being the popular kid in high school. When you do those things in the real world, and it don’t work out, you still have your health. The thing about football is you’re directly playing with your life, the quality of it and the longevity of it. The stakes are up there.

You ever been in a car crash? Done bumper cars? You know when that hit catches you off guard and jolts you, and you’re like, what the hell? Football is like that. But 10 times worse. It’s hell."

Nothing is questioned, nothing is learned.

Cycle and history of violence from father to son continues.

The son will just repeat everything his father went through.

Life in the trenches, on the line.

His fathers New York Times article was only written 13 years ago — did his son even bother to read it?

Article:

"The debate about concussions wasn’t there yet. I’ve had more than 10, including college and the pros. Nobody cared. And that’s the thing. We play football."

Are we as an audience, as fans, as a nation of football loving fanatics so blasé about the same violence that was visited upon the father being visited upon his son?

Does that not even get us to collectively pause before checking pre-season match ups in preparation for Week 1 next month?

America's collective Christmas in September — footballs back!!!!!!!

Do actual thoughts ever creep in amongst the unbridled ebullience, enthusiasm and unchecked joy of, "Football!!!!!!!!!!!!".

Or is the unthinking emotion inherent in football fanaticism across all levels, players and non-players alike, the point?

The pure emotion and the short circuiting of logic.

Its probably not a great idea for me to go bash my head against that dudes head 70 to 80 times a game, every game, every season.

But, its football!!!!!!!!!

So, nothing else matters?

Unlike rules now protecting quarterbacks and other positions from helmet to helmet hits, absolutely nothing has changed for offensive & defensive linemen and running backs — you're still smashing yourself head first into a concrete wall — as a running back, 20 to 30 times a game and as a lineman, 70 to 80 times a game.

No matter how much the NFL lies about this and tries to pretend the issue is concussions, its not — the existential issue threatening the sport of football itself is the repetitive SUBconcussive head impacts involved in every blocking and tackling play in football.

They are absolutely unavoidable and occur literally over a thousand times every single season.

It is these repetitive subconcussive head impacts — average 1500 hits to the head per season in high school, football & the pros — that 10 to 15 years after their playing careers are over, can cause neurological disorders and conditions like CTE, Parkinsons disease, Alzheimers disease, ALS and dementia in former players.

We have seen the movie before.

Im pretty sure Will Smith was in it.

And even that movie was nothing but masterful subterfuge from the NFL as they named it as their eternal smokescreen — Concussion — instead of what actually turned Mike Websters brain into CTE mush — Repetitive Subconcussive Head Impacts.

Doesn't have the same Hollywood ring to it, does it?

But it doesn't make it any less true or the NFL any less deceptive.

The NFL's own disability paperwork for former players says players can be compensated as early as 36 for early-onset dementia.

Is a game really worth someone losing their literal mind at 36?

When do we question the every day violence inherent in every tackling and blocking play in football?

Article:

"I remember one game, at Carolina, my second year. We played Arizona, and the double team weighed 780 pounds combined. They just kept double-teaming me, hoping I would fold and cave in. I didn’t. But that was probably the most painful day I had.

From the double teams, over the years, I wore the left side of my body down. I was past hurt.

I was at the point of numb. Like my body was shutting down nervous systems, so I didn’t have to deal with pain.

The numbness started at the very beginning. I couldn’t feel part of both arms. I couldn’t feel part of both legs. It was worse on the left.

I’m just starting to get feeling back in my left side. Look, football is no joke.

But I’m going to say this much: somebody has to be the grunt. That’s why there’s no better position on the field than interior defensive line. Forget quarterbacks or specialists. They’ve got it easy. If we don’t come to play, nobody else on defense can do their job. We’ve got the toughest job on the field. We don’t care about our facial hair. We play a grimy position.

Piles, oh, my God, they’re brutal. I’ve had my ankles twisted. I’ve been bit. I’ve done stuff. I’ve tried to break guys’ elbows, pinching people, twisting ankles, trying to bend up their arms, pop an elbow out. Why? I had to fight back."

Tackle football is cognitive dissonance & constant dissociation.

The inherent violence of football is never seriously questioned nor is it held up under a critical lens.

The most violent, punishing plays are casually dismissed post-game by players waving their hands and saying, "It was just a football play."

Yeah — thats actually the exact problem.

Ah, pile ups. Just a good old fashioned rugby scrum.

Nothing dehumanizing, nothing to worry about.

As long as its not my dick being grabbed at the bottom of a pile as I dig my way through my second bag of Fritos Scoops, safe and secure on my couch, while those dumb fucks kill themselves for an oblong shaped ball for my entertainment.

Exploitative, much?

The spectacle of the pile up.

The brainwashing so clearly evident when grown adult men who would be ashamed to act this way publicly over anything else suddenly leap in unison into the air like feral animals as Troy Aikman shouts with unfettered glee, "The ball is loose!!!!!!".

So is our collective humanity in watching a several ton mass of flesh undulate, eye gouge, scrotum twist, bite, spit and hurt each other for...what?

Us? Them? Football?

Article:

"Mentally, we’re conditioned to be tough. We’re conditioned to feel no pain. The only injury I ever felt while playing was when one of my knees tore. That’s the only time I felt pain and was like, O.K., that hurt.

But Mondays, you wake up, and it’s hard to get out of bed. It hurts wherever you got hit. I remember one time getting hit by Edgerrin James. He put his head in my chest. I woke up, and I couldn’t even move, because it felt like my chest was going to collapse. It was sore for days. All you want to do is get the blood circulating.

Hot tub. Cold tub. Hot tub. Cold tub."

Hot tub. Cold tub. Hot tub. Cold tub.

That's brainwashing.

A dissociative brainwashing ritual to dissociate the self from the pain & violence of the game.

It's like Junior Seau when he referred to himself in third person when he was mic'd up for NFL Films before every single hit for the duration of an entire game.

Very creepy if you can find it on youtube.

It literally sounded like he was programming himself to hit, then he would hit the hole, collect himself on the ground and do it.

Hard. Goddamned hard.

Again. And again. And again. And again.

If thats not brainwashing, what is?

Article:

"The brain fog? It still hasn’t stopped. It feels like you’re punch-drunk, like someone hit you over the head. It’s like you knock yourself stupid. When you have to concentrate on things, then it becomes an issue. My head gets foggy to the point where I really can’t function."

And yet you put a helmet on your son's head and you sent him out to play the same position.

Like father, like son.

Just like fathers in the military who have sons who "follow in their footsteps".

Often, articles will speak of a newly drafted player's heritage and lineage in the sport and if his father had a storied career, the hyperbole of the newly drafted son "being born to play" is routinely trotted out.

Smacks of eugenicism, genetic determinism, militarism, rigid heirarchies, dynasties.

Capitalist masculine toxicity.

Article:

"We know it’s going to hurt. We know because pain in football is consistent over time. You’re still hurting in the off-season. You’re hurting when the next season starts.

I mean, guys play hurt, but it’s a choice. They do a pretty good job now, with all the scrutiny around concussions.

On the line, it’s still painful. By the end of the year, half an offensive line might be getting shots, draining fluid from their knees. Most stay away from cortisone now, because it’s degenerative.

Everything gets off center. Bulging disk. Herniated disk. For linemen, it starts in the lower back. Throws everything off."

What did Jason Kelce recently say on his podcast with his wife?

His back is so fucked up from playing football that he cant bend down to pick up his 1 year old daughter nor can he hold her while standing.

Kelce also played on the line as the center for the Eagles.

Is it worth it?

Should children be playing this game?

Should anyone in its current incarnation?

Has science shown that the risk of repetitive subconcussive head impacts causing neurological conditions & disorders is too high for any child to assume?

What about teenagers in high school who are legally minors and not adults?

Should they be able to assume risks as teenagers that can mentally incapacitate them later in life as soon as their 30s?

Potential suicide due to CTE in their 20s?

1500 hits per season every season starting in high school.

So, that's 6k hits to the head in four years of high school football.

Another 6k more hits to the head in four years of college football.

12k hits to the head before the pros not counting youth football prior to high school which is ages 5 to 14 aka Pop Warner.

Even 5 year olds endure on average 336 hits to the head every season in Pop Warner.

5 year olds!

Kindergartners!

Ask yourself where else you could hit a 5 year old child 336 times in the head over the course of a few months without being arrested and jailed?

Is it really okay just because it's football?

Does that truly justify that amount of head impacts to a 5 year old child?

Wouldn't we call that abuse if it was happening in the Boy Scouts or any organization other than Pop Warner?

Should it be happening at all?

In service of whom and for what?

Football? Glory? Masculinity? Manhood? America? Pride? Militarism?

All of the above?

Article:

"I can’t blame anybody for my death. I made the choice to play football. I made the choice to walk through the concussions. I could have stopped. I could have said, my head hurts. It was my choice, as a man."

But who told you that playing through permanent brain injuries is what makes you a man?

Can't we blame that person?

Your father and your coaches from youth, high school, college all the way to the pros?

Militaristic views of masculinity kills boys and young men for the game of football.

It's a militaristic war game that simulates combat yet kills people in slow motion for real.

The violence suffered by players in football is as celebrated as militaristic ideals of what soldiers suffer through in war: valor, courage under fire, physical courage, endurance, stoically fighting through unimaginable injuries & pain, the quarterback heroically leading his squad as their captain marching his troops down the field to victory just like any military commander complete with a chevron like system that awards stars for each year or season of service very similar to how stripes function in the military.

This militaristic ideal of masculinity is endlessly promoted, encouraged, rewarded and valorized in football just as it is in the military.

Football is Americas killing fields.

High school players — teenaged boys, not adult men — die every year playing football.

Over a million boys play high school football each year and only a handful die or suffer permanent, disabling and/or catastrophic injury.

Would you be so glib about the numbers though if it was your son or your brother or your boyfriend or your best friend who died playing high school football?

What if they were permanently paralyzed from the neck down playing college football?

It's easy to treat the above numbers as a statistic or rounding error when you can close out of the Facebook support page for the now dead or disabled high school or college player and get ready for Chiefs/Ravens next month.

What if you couldn't just X out of the Facebook page because you had to quit your job to take care of your disabled son for the rest of your life?

Or what if your brother killed himself from having CTE from playing college football?

The reality is, we can drop a "sad crying" emoji on a Facebook status and move on — the families of the young boys and men sacrificed to this sport definitely can't.

Go ask Tyler Sash's mom if she's "moved on".

Hasn't science proven at this point that tackle football just doesnt work the way it is currently played?

Why are we okay risking future Junior Seaus, Mike Websters, Justin Strelczyks, Phillip Adams, Tyler Hillinskis with every boy and young man that straps on the pads and helmet and charges on to the field?

Is it 10% of players that get CTE? Is it 20%?

Is it more? Is it half?

More than half?

The truth is we wont know until a CTE test is developed for living players.

Pop Warners Chief Medical Director is working with the FDA to develop the test as I type this.

Why do you think that is?

The NFL's own study funded through a university admits that NFL players are 19 times more likely than non-NFL players to develop neurological conditions and disorders.

19 times!!!!!

As long as its not your brain getting scrambled right?

And you can just sit there and watch the leagues reigning back to back MVP and reigning Super Bowl Champ slowly deteriorate their minds while accumulating permanent brain damage for your entertainment.

Pass the chips.

Article:

"We consider football a gladiator sport because we understand you’re going to get hurt. You’re putting your life on the line.

You might not die now, like in an old Roman arena, but 5, 10 years down the road, you could. You know that.

I wouldn’t change anything.

During my career, I kept my mouth shut. This now, speaking out, it’s about telling you my life. There’s no agenda, no vendetta. This is what football’s really like.

The first warning is the first meeting you have with an agent, when you realize this is real. My choices count at this point. I’m going to be prostituting myself for the next 18 years of my life.

That’s the first warning.

The next one is that good old combine.

That’s when you realize, when you march in that room half naked, I’m a number now."

No, thats when you realize that the NFL is MODERN DAY SLAVERY.

It's a modern day meat market.

6% of the US population is Black male. 75% of the NFL is Black.

0% of the owners are Black. Only 2 out of 32 coaches are Black.

Almost all of the NFL owners are white with very few exceptions and exactly none of them are Black.

The NFL is a modern day plantation.

Article:

"I loved New York. I loved playing there. I loved the spotlight. I was fine in New York, but I also played for Eric Mangini. We started 8-3, Brett Favre, all of that. Everybody told Mangini, stop with the long practices, you’re killing us. You practice too hard. We’re on turf."

36% of all injuries that occur in the NFL are due to turf & 1/4 of all concussions are a result of players heads slamming against turf.

So...

Why won't the NFL replace turf with grass in their stadiums as the NFLPA has been asking for for years?

Because they're cheap as hell and would rather injure their own investments then pay for grass.

The owners & the league have the same exact disregard and disdain for their own players.

The NFL has agreed to switch out turf for grass for the World Cup because the soccer players refused to do what NFL players are forced to — fuck their bodies up on turf.

It proves the NFL and owners could do it and, in fact, they did do it so they could host the World Cup in their football stadium — unless it's actually for the players in their own league.

In that case, you're shit out of luck.

Should have played soccer.

Article:

"What you hear from guys like Ray Lewis, James Harrison, what they’re saying is we’re well aware what we’re signing up for. The violence, we love it. The madness, we love it. We love measuring ourselves in it.

Those guys express themselves with their pads. You soften the game, you’re taking away their freedom of expression. Nobody wants to see flag football, and now, you might as well give guys flags, tell them to hug afterward, all that."

Did he even read the beginning of his own article???

Constant cognitive dissonance is the distillation & essence of tackle football — by the players, the audience, coaches, trainers, medical personnel, announce team, play by play, color, pre-game & post-game hosts, team & network journalists.

I see no repetitive head impacts causing CTE.

I hear no repetitive head impacts causing CTE.

I speak no repetitive head impacts causing CTE.

Article:

"The violence is what I remember. Like against Buffalo in 2009, when I had the game of my career. Or the time I slapped a lineman out of the way in Houston with one arm. Winning, the physical part, the mayhem, finding the line between insanity and sanity, that’s the exact reason why you play. That’s the reason fans like football in the first place.

A guy like James Harrison, he’s possessed, and that’s the guy you love to play with, love to watch. He doesn’t need to be babied."

Protection from permanent brain damage & trauma, fans bloodlust, coaches unreasonable demands, neurological disorders & conditions, neurological symptoms including suicidality, depression, memory loss, confusion, irritability, volatility, aggression, amnesia, mental incapicitation, deteroriation & decline is being "babied"??????????

Article:

"The N.F.L. is too big to fail. If that happened, it would be a slow death. It’s still the ultimate game. For us, it’s like legal prison rules. You have to protect your manhood, your well-being. You’re going to be challenged. You’re going to be tested."

"You have to protect your manhood."

Protect The Shield.

Brainwashed into the cult of American masculinity.

Just like all the other 2.6 million young boys & adolescents playing youth football.

Another million playing in high school.

100k playing in NCAA college football.

1600 play in the NFL.

All brainwashed into the cult of masculinity.

Millions of young boys and teenagers sacrificed on the altar of tackle football, Americas true religion.

Article:

"There aren’t too many places a 400-pound guy with an attitude can go and beat the crap out of somebody and not get locked up for it. I have a violent streak. I have to fight it out of my system. We signed up for it. All of it. We’re not trying to be sane or rational."

What does an 8 year old playing tackle football for Pop Warner sign up for?

Tradition, rigid authoritarianism, toxic masculinity, ideals of manhood worth sacrificing your body, mind, memories, personality, self and literal life for.

A 13 year old football player committed suicide after an egregious hit and post concussion symptoms that lasted for over a year in 2018.

He played through the hit and practiced in pads the very next day — think that might have made his concussion worse?

Prior to the hit, he was a straight A student, a voracious reader, erudite, sociable & well-liked.

After the hit, he became withdrawn.

He lost vision in one eye. He lost his balance frequently.

He was unable to read for more than a few minutes at a time.

He started tackle football at 9.

He played two ways as a linebacker and running back and was known as a ferocious hitter who never complained of pain.

He attempted suicide, was hospitalized, seemed to be improving, then the second suicide attempt was tragically successful.

Dead at 13 for the sport of football.

When is enough enough?

Football is a game, it's a magical talisman, it's a sport, it's a crucible, it's a maker of men, it's the distillation of manhood and masculinity, it's what being a man is.

It's worth bashing and battering your brains repeatedly.

It's worth your mind.

It's worth not knowing who you are at 50.

It's worth you committing suicide.

Just remember to shoot yourself in the chest so your brain can be donated and studied.

[ducks-on-jupiter]

BSD disability week day 2: Blindness

I know this is a day late, haha... I wrote it as fast as I could

TW: internalized and external ableism, descriptions of medical settings, injuries, and scars

Dazai woke up to find that he was in Mori’s medical office. The last thing he remembers, he was on a practice mission Mori had sent him on. He tries to blink a few times to adjust to the bright light. The room stays blurry. There’s an uncomfortable cloth over his right eye. His head ached.

“What happened to my eye?” Dazai pushed himself up with his elbows. “There’s bandages over it.”

“You don’t remember?”

“If i remembered, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He snaps back.

“You got in a little… accident.” Mori sighs. He’s shuffling through documents at his desk. At least Dazai thinks that’s what he’s doing. It’s hard to tell when everything is blurry, and one of his eyes is covered.

“Accident?”

“You aren’t going to get that half of your vision back.” Mori’s tone comes out cold. “You’re lucky you still have a functioning left eye,”

“It’s all blurry.”

“That’ll get better once it stops swelling.”

Theres a heavy pause in the room. The air sends chills down Dazai’s spine.

“You’re going to need to re-learn how to shoot a gun. I thought you knew to be more careful Osamu. You were unconscious for three days and im not interested in having to replace my demon prodigy.”

“I’m not replaceable.”

“You’re going to be if you don’t adapt to this.”

This was the very first experience Osamu Dazai had in relation to his blindness, and it did not help set his internal tone about his impairments whatsoever.

.

.

.

Dazai was sitting in Chuuya’s office, groaning over their mission report paperwork. He’d been staring at the lines of letters for ten minutes. It hurt to look at them, the words kept jumping around because his vision wouldn’t stay focused, chuuya was waiting on him to finish his section of the report.

“Dazai, I want to hand this in soon. My ideal afternoon is not sitting at work waiting on your lazy ass to finish paperwork.”

God, why can’t he just get it done like a normal person? It isn’t that hard, his head doesn’t hurt that bad, he should be trying harder, doing more, doing better in the rank that he earned- that he has to keep that-

“Mackerel, are you crying over paperwork?”

Dazai flinches, he was crying? Oh, he was crying. Oops. He wipes his eye and turns away from Chuuya.

“Dazai?”

No response from dazai, other than his shoulders shaking as he hides his face from chuuya.

“Osamu?” Chuuya said gently. “Are you okay?”

This was turning into one of those rare moments where the two teenage boys actually showed each other some semblance of care and worry. There was some weird friendship hidden underneath all of their fighting and screaming at one another.

“I’ll get it done. Sorry.” Dazai mumbles and picks up his pen.

“No, forget about the report for a second, why are you crying?” Chuuya pulls his chair over to Dazai’s desk. Yes, dazai had a desk in Chuuya’s office. Dazai looks up at him, having given up on seeming emotionless and mysterious by now. Chuuya brushes a strand of hair from Dazai’s face. “Do you want to talk?”

“You’ll use it against me.”

“I promise you, i won’t.”

“Yes you will.”

“I swear on my hat.”

Dazai laughs lightly.

“What is it, Dazai?”

Dazai takes a deep, shaky breath before looking at Chuuya. “Before you joined, when i was doing a training mission for Mori, i got hurt really badly. Left me half blind.”

The process of the dots connecting in Chuuya’s head is visible on his face. He lets out a long, but quiet “oh.”

“Yeah. Not a very good thing in our line of work.”

After that, Chuuya and Dazai had established a few things to help dazai out a little bit. Chuuya started letting Dazai link their arms or hold onto his bag or sleeve while they walked, because Dazai had really bad depth perception. Chuuya would read their paperwork to him when dazai was having trouble.

.

.

.

“Can I see under your bandages?” Chuuya asked gently. He and dazai were siting on his couch, almost cuddling but not quite. It had been about a year and a half of Chuuya knowing Dazai was blind.

“It’s not really something i like showing people.” Dazai starts fidgeting with his wrist bandages.

“I’m not going to judge you, but you don’t have to show me.”

Dazai has seen Chuuya on the verge of death tens of times. It only seemed fair to offer a little bit of vulnerability back, but vulnerability has never been Dazai’s thing. At all. “Are you sure you wanna see that? It’s kind of gross-“

“I want to understand you better.”

After a few moments of quiet, Dazai unwraps the bandages on his face. Theres a really bad scar over his eye, red and purple and raised. It made him feel gross. He always thought his existence was gross. This made it worse.

“Im sorry-“

“Why? It’s just your body. You can’t change it. There’s nothing ‘super gross and disturbing’ it’s a scar.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” Dazai feels a small pang of wariness in his chest.

.

.

.

Dazai and Chuuya were sitting in a cafe, across from one another. It was a warm and cozy, small little building. Chuuya lets out a small, content sigh,

“You look happier, now.” He says softly. “Being away from the Mafia was good for you?”

“I guess it was,” Dazai shrugs. “Thanks for meeting up with me, I know we aren’t on the… best terms,”

“We’ve never been on the best terms.” Chuuya laughs slightly. “I wrote the whole menu out on my phone before you got here, so you can adjust the text and-“

“You didn’t have to do that,”

“But i wanted to? It’s just the decent thing to do,” Chuuya hands Dazai his phone.

Dazai skims through the menu on Chuuya’s phone for a minute, he hums quietly.

“Also,” Chuuya says with a small smile audible in his tone, “We’re you going to acknowledge the cane, or did you just assume I saw it?”

“Oh, yeah that. I just got used to it, I guess.”

Chuuya takes a small breath, “hey, I’m happy your accommodating yourself now,”

“…Thanks. It was really hard to admit I needed it.”

Chuuya scoots his chair closer to Dazai’s and gives his hand a small squeeze. Dazai smiles.

[the-entitie]

[Dark_MS_Reader]...prt:1_》》》

I love, love, love the whole monster dynamic or unusual traits that are explained by "Oh, it's not human. That's why" honestly, I just like weird people with weird quirks. So eh.

•Part 3 will be linked when done

Edit: it's done!

《《《(masterlist)》》》

</[T|W:]> injury and death, death related trauma, mild body horror, medical malpractice, inhuman depictions, sexualization of disability, sexualization of insecurity, use of multiple cultures and religions (could be wrongfully used, if so. Tell me!!),

</[C|W]> reader is dark with intrusive or dark thoughts. But strictly SFW. So no smut. Aslo intended male reader,

The first time you arrived on this content, you were hog tied, a thick steel cord used to immobilize you. The guards even muzzled you as if you could bite them with any kind of force that could necessitate this kind of restraint.

It was half for the humiliation of dragging you over the dirtied port, the gravel and sand, and salt that scrap into your already tattered cloths. The burn against the neglected and painful remains of your body. Half that this was to make you look dangerous.

The hulking man carrying you hardly glances at you as he dropped your limp body on the deck. Considering it doest get a reaction out of you, it doesn't startle the werewolf there.

Most humans only want to interact with the inhabitants that look human. Considering most affected by lycanthopic bodies, appear human. At least sometimes. The guard preferred them to be present at the coastal office.

And that's how you were left.

No paperwork, no notice that you were coming.

Just.

Dropped off at the wolf's feet and abandoned to whatever they would do to you now that you're here.

It's the first time in a while that you could just shut your eyes and ignore everything around you. The guards weren't too kind to you while you were in their care.

They had set you up, those werewolves, with a home. A small, dingy, half abandoned thing surounded by nothing and no one. And gave you time to heal.

They would visit you, that leader you met the first day specifically; though many jokingly called him 'Alpha' when he was around his friends. But when he had come to you on the fourth day. Your body now regaining strength. He walked into a startling scene. He hadn't even smelt the blood.

He, Lucas you later over heard him being called, watched as you methodically cleaned the many wounds that engulf your body. Shirt discared beside you, seeing the full expanse of those injuries new and old on display. You're only covered by a pair of boxers as you work. Watching how you took thick strips of the bandage to temporarily cut blood flow above as you cleaned each wound on your arm.

Holding the loose edges held between your teeth, your free hand disinfecting the rotting edges of skin and muscle. He was ready to jump and stop you when he watched you grap the bisecting scissors, and yet he didn't. Only forced to stare in abject horror as you started to cut the rotten edges of the gashes of. Small snips that carved out the dead tissue. Leaving fresh rivets of blood slowly dripping down your skin.

It had taken him a few moments of standing there to see you were struggling. The pain flaring up from your work, becoming overwhelming while thin tears stream down your face. Yet you utter nothing but silence into the blood-stained cloth between your teeth.

That's when he actually apaoches the bed, being careful to wait till you put those scissors down before he asks what he can do to help.

"Sit here. I need to wrap it."

Lucas was slow to follow. He was so terrified that you were doing this wrong, hurting yourself in a delusional want for the pain to stop. He couldn't help but ask.

"You know what you're doing here, doll?"

"Yeah." Your hitching breath makes your voice stutter, "done it before."

That makes his chest tight, a feeling he associated with his werewolf friends. Because. Well.

"You've done it to yourself before?"

"No. Just inmates."

"You some kind of doctor?"

"Not a practicing one."

That arm now taken care of, you focus on the other.

Lucas loses his train of thought to the picture of the malnourished man before him having an illegal medical office.

"Your not a doctor?"

"I am." You mutter to his absolute confusion,

Pulling his hand to your shoulder, handing him the end of the ternicate, he holds it on autopilot. Lucas stares as you start the process all over again. These look like they are from a whip

"I don't work as one." You clarify. Using the conversation as a mid point for the dance between pain and relief. "I worked as a mortician."

"What."

"I worked with the dead-"

"Oh, yes. I got that but. Why? Why not be a doctor if you can. Well."

"More people died where I lived."

He can tell it's only half a lie, but he can't exactly see what.

"Never needed to save anyone."

All he could do was say, as sincerely someone who couldn't understand, that.

"I'm sorry you ended up here."

It stuck in Lucas's mind.

The knowledge that you were a doctor. Someone who could help.

But was it his place to ask?

Could he ask you? Was it too soon or too late to even try?

When he brought it up to one of the old Naga that enjoyed his company, she told how helpful someone like you could be.

To human.

Very few doctors even touch the non-human side of medical care. And even fewer would actually touch a monster. So it was a slim to none, chance you knew how to help any of them.

They weren't even sure of your own humanity or lack thereof.

"But tell you of it, Lu," she wound her coils tighter around herself. Resting her head against the shimmering scales, "If, and it be a big if. That man be a healer, he will fulfill the oath all doctors take."

He watched her thin tongue taste the air. The ugly edge from where it was docked, disappearing again behind her lips. It made certain syllables painful to say. It made her speech irregular, and some Grammer off, bit aleast she had her toungue.

"Many healer, medicinal or not. Will treat all who fall. It be only thier know how that keep those they help alive."

The vampiric monarch that lived out South was the best bet to test what Dai said.

Lucas had taken you on a tour, showing you how they tried to help each other on the huge city they gathered in. It was late dusk, but he knew he could still try.

The thralls that romed inside were lethargic as he led you further in the hotel looking housing.

Many of them hunched over in the halls, huddled close. If escaping the setting sun or your presence, well. You weren't quite sure.

And just as you try to move towards the excite, a shrill hiss breaks out behind you. This young girl, with a sqeaky hiss, was doubled over. Clutching at her shoulder.

"Oh, fuck. Sal, I'm so sorry!"

You could see the sizzling skin before she near calapsed.

Moving as if by spell, you cuaght her befote she could actaully fall. Careful to place her more gently down against the wall.

It's hardly a thought as you lift your sleeve, still holding that child so she wouldn't hurt herself. You rip open the berely closed wound there on your palm. The blood seeoping into her shirt and engulfs the wound in a few quick seconds.

You have the gash re-wrapped before the teen who bumped her is there to hold her as the blood heals her.

"Dai was right," Lucas whispers, as quiet as he could. "She said this could happen."

"And what had Dai spoken of the man holding my niece?"

The old morge on the outskirts of town was now yours. Lucas said it was just an empty lot, just a place for you to finally settle. Even if it was run down.

The citizens each pitching in to help set the place up, a carpenter Tanuki who was just passing by or the siren that just so happen to be an electrician needing a spained wing checked, and the slow trickle of each patient started up not long after.

It started with the bigger things, a broken bone here, and a deadly illness there. Just the worste most couldnt handle, like pregnancies or viseral injuries. But then you started to step up and werw seeking out people to help anywhere you could.

In the bay sector, where most aquatic or amphibious residence stay, keeping them from friction burn during shedings. Or the construction sights, who always had a sprian or a bruise or a nick you could see to.

Always with the same excuse. Just that you needed some food and then you were dragged into a group to eat with them and well, might as well clean and fix up that cut they have while you're here, right?

No, it's no trouble. Saves the trip if it gets worse, doesn't it?

You met Dai, found the Monarch of those Vampire's hunkering down in the hotel. Finding his name was Emile, or that's what people gave him as a nickname. You even met the rest of the shifters, or more specifically, the leader who would collect and help that specific type of shifter.

Day in and day out, you kept going, kept looking till you found the ship you needed pulling up to shore.

Not a lot of people knew you dealt in black market trades. Only the ones who needed to know, did.

Most just thought is was a simple trade.

You know, some fresh goods for medication. Or knowledge for medical supplies. And yes, sometimes. It was just that.

At the end of each week, you would filter into the decks where you were first dumped here to meet with some of your contacts. Trading what you scavenged from ypur work to keep the shelves well stocked.

It wasn't like you made any money, nor had you ever asked for any. So it wasn't a stretch to say this was the only way to keep things as they where.

That isn't to say you didn't keep some things.

Quills from a lionfish who contracted a bacterial infection on some of his spines. Fangs from that vampire girl, Sal, as she started sheding them. Small bundles of feathers from the flock of sirens that fly with avians.

It was all just so much better.

That was until the second spring hit the city.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

A Stone’s Throw

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: The night Jason wakes up in the convalescent home, he’s accompanied by his favorite nurse (Nurse Kathy). Nurse Kathy follows her instincts and decides to foster him in the nearby city of Blüdhaven. Soon, her partner and roommates become Jason’s new family despite hopes that he’ll regain his memories.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Original Characters, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon

Additional Tags: Disabled Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Doesn’t Know Jason Todd is Alive, Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Jason Todd Has a Foster Family AU, Jason Todd Moves to Blüdhaven, Original Asexual Characters, Original Lesbian Characters, Amnesiac Jason Todd, “Missed Him By That Much” Trope, Hurt/Comfort, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Four: Homecoming

Daniel and Kathy arrived at the house a few hours after Dodie settled in, and Kathy took a box straight to the kitchen without a word and started. “Hey, Dodie. Mom’s a little frazzled, but she’ll be okay once everything’s done,” Daniel reassured him. 

“I know. Have you seen the boy yet? Are you gonna—?” 

“No, this is all Sibyl and Mom. And I haven’t seen him. I hear he’s a bigger boy… Very strong. She’s the only person at the hospital that he likes,” Daniel replied, “I think this will help her feel good again. I was worried that she hit a wall.” 

“Mom’s struggling?” Dodie asked. 

“It’s nothing bad… She just seemed empty this past year. I could feel something shift when she met this boy—.” Kathy rushed into the living room and hugged Dodie. It nearly knocked him off balance, but he softened and settled into her embrace. 

“Hi, Mom. I missed you, too,” Dodie smiled, “How’s New Jersey’s favorite nurse?” 

“I’m all over the place, Dodie… But this feels like a nice new start. We have more space, we’re closer to you, and there’s a community garden on the roof. I’m so excited and terrified and I want you to know you can sleep here whenever you like. I—.”

“Mom, breathe. Do you need help in the kitchen?” Dodie asked. Kathy nodded, taking Dodie’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. “So, am I gonna be an older brother? Or is this just temporary?” 

“It depends. If he has a family out there, I have to help him find his way home. If it’s just him, then of course, I’d love to keep him. He’s such a doll. I think you’d like him. You used to love to visit the hospital with me. It’ll be nice to take this ride with you on Sunday,” Kathy smiled as she opened the fridge. 

“Mom, have you taken a moment to kind of—?” 

Kathy washed her hands and started cutting onions. “How is work, honey bunny? You’re working on a new subdivision, right? Cape cod style houses? ” Kathy interrupted. She stopped to look at him and smiled. “I’m always obsessed with the little shutters, but why don’t they ever install real shutters? I love real shutters. My house had real shutters when I was a little girl. Papa used to close them at night, so we wouldn’t get scared of the shadows outside.” 

“It’s going great. Maybe I could send you my palette ideas, and you could give me some input,” Dodie suggested, “And now that you live so close, maybe I could stop by, and we could do pajama nights again.” 

Kathy grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I would love that so much,” Kathy replied. 

**

SUNDAY IN BLÜDHAVEN 

Dodie sat in the car while Kathy went in. She nervously signed the discharge paperwork, holding back tears as she handed the clipboard to her supervisor. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever that afternoon as she approached Jason’s room. He was already dressed in the clothes she bought him. Kathy adjusted his glasses, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I told you I’d be here… It’s time to go home now,” Kathy whispered. Jason sat down on the bed, and Kathy shook her head. “You’re coming with me.” 

She extended a hand, and Jason took it, following her down the hall. She took him outside to the car, and Jason hesitated. “Oh, hon… This is my son, Dodie. He wanted to meet you,” Kathy explained as she gestured for Dodie to get out of the car. 

Dodie stepped outside, and he extended his hand to Jason, slowly as he examined the bruises and cuts on Jason’s face and hands. “Dodie Hines-Fletcher, pleasure to meet you,” Dodie smiled. Jason took his hand, shaking it firmly before taking Kathy’s hand again. “She’s our mom for the time being… Guess that makes us brothers.” 

Kathy swallowed hard and let Jason in the car, buckling him in as she got into the backseat. Dodie got in the driver’s seat. “Did Mom tell you about Dad?” Dodie asked. He turned around, looking past Jason and Kathy as he backed out of the parking space. Jason nodded, and his round glasses slipped to the tip of his nose. “Dad’s great. You’ll like him. He’s just as sweet as Mom.”

Jason turned to Kathy, tapping her knee as he raised his sweatshirt to show her a fist-sized bruise on his lower abdomen. Kathy took a closer look, putting pressure on it. Jason didn’t budge. “Does that hurt?” Kathy asked. Jason shook his head. “A few days ago?” Jason nodded. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore. You’re going to stay with me from now on.”

Jason lay his head on her shoulder, and Dodie smiled as he drove toward the freeway, heading toward Blüdhaven. “We’re going to Blüdhaven. Nudge Mom if you see something familiar,” Dodie stated. Jason looked out the window, his hand never straying far from Kathy. He held on, not wanting her to leave him somehow. Kathy. His Catherine. It all melded together in his mind. He couldn’t clearly remember why the name made his heart feel full and heavy or why hearing Dodie call her Mom made him want to cry. 

The sky was a sad grey as the clouds covered the son, gently breaking into a weepy drizzle. Jason touched the door, pressing his hands against the interior until his fingers found the button for the window. He rolled it down a crack, tilting his head up, and breathing in the air through his open mouth. Kathy watched the rise and fall of his chest before smiling. “It’s nice to have fresh air, huh?” Kathy giggled. “Want more?” Jason shook his head. 

He watched the cars pass by, and Kathy rubbed his back, gently watching as he enjoyed the air coming through the open sliver in the window. Jason fell asleep within fifteen minutes and the other twenty minutes were nearly silent as they passed the police station. “What do you call him? You haven’t given him a name… I know you haven’t, but I can’t call him sweetheart or hon like you do,” Dodie whispered. 

“I call him Blue Eyes sometimes, but I’m still waiting for him to tell me his name,” Kathy answered. 

They parked in Kathy’s parking spot, and Jason woke up. Kathy nudged Jason, and he stirred, looking around at the buildings. “Hi, Blue Eyes. It’s time to go inside, honey,” Kathy whispered. Jason opened his eyes and took her hand. She led him inside and up the stairs of her building before taking Jason by the shoulders. “The people inside are my friends. There are two men. One woman. The men are named Daniel and Walter. The woman is named Sibyl. They won’t hurt you. I promise.” She nodded slowly, waiting for Jason to nod along, and she smiled when he finally did.

Daniel smiled and waved, looking up from his sketchbook. 

“I’m Daniel. Would you like to take a seat? Lunch is almost ready,” Daniel asked. Jason looked at Kathy. 

“That’s Daniel. He’s Dodie’s father. You can sit with him if you like,” Kathy reassured him.

[rainofaugustsith]

I've seen posts about planning that needs to be done before the horrors of January 2025 for USAmericans, but I have not seen one specifically about disability/chronic illness. So: Here are some things you may want to consider doing as soon as possible, particularly if you have any sort of government-administered insurance such as Medicare, Medicaid or Tricare. Those can be gutted independently, and probably faster than, ACA insurance. But a lot of these things apply to anyone.

1. Get prescriptions filled with 90 day supplies as often as you can.  2. If you order eyeglasses from a discount place online, make sure you have glasses to last you a while. They are often made overseas, and will likely be affected by tariffs.  3. A lot of common contact lenses are also made overseas so you may wish to get what you can now. 3. If you need any medical supplies on a regular basis, such as diabetic testing supplies, etc. get them now. A lot of them are made either overseas or made in the USA but with materials from other countries.  4. MASKS. If you're wearing masks, KN95s, N95s, whatever, get them now. If you are not wearing masks anymore, you might want to consider stocking up again since the people nominated for HHS and other posts do not seem to care even the slightest about serious airborne and infectious diseases.  5. If there's a procedure, test or treatment you've been putting off, do it as soon as you can. Mammogram, biopsy, routine blood tests, whatever.  6. If there is medical equipment your doctor or physical therapist think you may need - braces, canes, walkers, new hearing aids covered by insurance, whatnot, get that now.  7. Over the counter vitamins, medicines and supplements may cost more with tariffs, so be aware of that and get some extras if you can/if they will keep. 8. If you are not up to date with any vaccinations, get those now. The person nominated for HHS has looked into removing FDA approval from at least one well established vaccine (polio) so the vaccines may not even be available to you in future. Would that be extreme? Unfortunately one has to think worst-case scenarios here.

This was mentioned in a wonderful post already, but since it does pertain to medical care I will repeat here: If you are in a marriage that may be affected by marriage equality being struck down (a frightening but very real possibility with the current state of SCOTUS and incoming horror), you want to make sure you have the correct paperwork to ensure your spouse or partner can make medical decisions for you even if/when your marriage is legally deemed null and void. In the event marriage equality ends, your partner's parents will likely have more legal standing than you, if you do not officially state otherwise on the necessary documents.

Make sure you have a power of attorney, healthcare proxy, advanced directive, will, and beneficiary forms signed and sealed for any insurance, back accounts or property. With any doctor or hospital system that treats you, you can sign off on who is allowed to make decisions or speak to your medical team.

This is very devastating issue many gay couples faced during the AIDS epidemic and before: when one partner got sick or died, their families could come in and take everything, make all decisions, and freeze the person's longterm partner out entirely. And there was nothing the partner could really do, since legally the parents were considered next of kin.

Get the paperwork done. Now. There are a lot of nonprofits right now who are trying to help people set up what they need to protect themselves and their loved ones. If you need things notarized, check with your bank. A lot of them have free notary services for members.

[specialagentlokitty]

Eggsy x sister!reader - not the same

Hey saw you wanting Eggsy so I was wondering if you could do one where Reader and Eggsy are brother and sister (with Reader being the oldest) and she adopts a disabled pup (or a normal pup if you prefer) for Eggsy when she found out about him losing his pug. - Anon 💜

Loosing JB was hard on your brother and you knew that, growing up he didn’t have much that he could call his own.

You did what you could for him, and he knew that, and when he got JB it was like his whole world had gotten better.

Though he explained he couldn’t tell you what he did for work, he did tell you that’s how he came across his little pug, that unfortunately wasn’t a bulldog like he thought.

But he adored that dog to no end.

So it tore you up to see how heartbroken he was over the loss of his little best friend, and he couldn’t bare to be alone.

“Hey Eggsy?”

He looked up from your sofa and you smiled softly at him.

“I need to pick something up I’ll be back in soon, will you be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be alright go ahead.”

You smiled and nodded, leaving the flat.

You had arranged to pick up a dog from a shelter that nobody else wanted to adopt, and you couldn’t bare to see the sweet thing without a home.

So that’s where you went.

You did some dog shopping first, then went to pick up the the grey hound.

“He’ll need go to a vets once a month, but he’s wonderful and ever so sweet.” The man said.

“He seems it, he’s so trusting.”

The greyhound sniffed your hands as he sat in front of you, tail thumping the ground a little bit.

“Just so I know, you are aware that Bolt here is deaf?”

“I am.”

The man nodded his head, handing you some paperwork to fill out.

Once you were done, you led Bolt back to your car to take him home.

He was so curious about everything, so you took him for a little walk down the street before bringing him back into your flat, taking the lead off.

“Eggsy?!”

“Yeah?”

He came in from the kitchen and stopped when he saw the brown down sniffing around the hallway.

He smiled, crouching down as he held out his hand towards Bolt.

“Well hey there, who’re you?” He asked.

“His names Bolt, he is deaf, but can respond to sign language.”

“Is he yours?”

You smiled, shaking your head a little bit as you walked over, handing him the paper work.

“He’s yours. I know you’re still hurting for JB, and until you’re ready I’ll look after him, but he needs someone who’ll love him like you would.”

At first Eggsy was reluctant to have the new dog in his life.

But soon Bolt grew on him, wherever your brother went Bolt wanted to go, he absolutely loved Eggsy, he loved being near him. He was always so happy to see him.

Eggsy didn’t want to admit it but he did grow soft on the dog, and began to take him out with him.

He was starting to get out more and become more of himself.

You knew he would still hurt over JB, but seeing your brother actually manage to sleep, Bolt laid over him, it made you feel a little at ease

[begitalarcos]

Life Update

Hey Guys

I know I said I was coming back, and I fully intended to. Then I injured my back... badly

I ruptured a disc in my back on one of my lowest vertebrae and now have lost most of the feeling in my left leg :(

In the next week here I'm being scheduled for spinal surgery.

Strangely I'm doing okay. Since my last post a lot of things have gotten sorted (mostly family drama) which has taken a huge weight off of me. Then I fell on the stairs. I only fell down two steps but Ianded hard on my butt and then hit my back against the stair.

This was almost 2 months ago, and I was going to physio for it until my disability decided not to cover it. I was sent to an "Impartial" specialist who had the nerve to tell me that most of my pain was likely "Psychological" haven't had that kind of flippant disrespect about my health in awhile.

On the 30th of October I went to lay down for a nap, when I woke up just the act of sitting up left me in agony. My wonderful husband then spent the next few hours with me using hot and cold compresses and trying to help me get through the pain because the hospital said it was probably just sciatic pain... Halloween rolls around and I've lost all feeling in my left thigh.

I decided "FUCK IT" and went to emergency, where after a good 9 hours I finally saw a doctor who would take me seriously. And by that time my entire left thigh, part of my calf, and most of my back end and groin were completely numb. They took my sock off and my foot was grey. It was pretty scary.

The doctor there did a battery of tests for everthing he could think of, he did manage to get a bit of feeling back into my calf and foot with an injection. But everything else was still pins and needles. I had an MRI and well.. as you can see the lower disc was pushed so far out it was impinging on all the nerves to my left leg.

I spent Halloween and most of the next day in emergency. Had a lovely panic attack, got mildly sedated, there were no beds so I was stuck in a shitty recliner in a corner between two drug attics. One who wouldn't stop complaining and then throwing fits and the other who had some kind of blood borne illness with open sores. It was fucking terrible.

Today I had to drive almost 2 hours to another city to see a neurosurgeon who was also livid no one had done anything for me in over two months and said that even with surgery I may never get full feeling back in my leg (cries) This then followed more X-rays, blood work (7 vials taken oi vey) and an ECG.

Turns out I also have a rare heart defect - that only one other person in my family has - that causes my heart to skip a beat every third beat. They also (because I'm anemic) had to go through the process of signing a ton of forms for the possibility that I may need a transfusion during or after surgery....

This was supposed to be a short post I swear -_-

Thursday I have to go for a full physical and do even MORE paperwork, and then drive again 2 hours away to another city to have my surgery.

FML

So yeah, I still very much want to be creating and posting I just haven't been able to sit or concentrate much as I am taking pain killers (that do not want to work with my antidepressants) so I've either been completely out of it or just stuck doing one thing and one thing only (which has mostly been just riding around in RDR2 hunting, fishing and exploring) I also finished the new Zelda game cuz... well I've been laying down a lot.

Holy Jeebs have I been bored. In between that I've also been trying to keep GiraffeBarn active and get into a few local stores again.

2024 has been hectic and chaotic.

I'm hopeful that the new year will bring me some much needed peace and clarity.

So yeah, I'm not gone, I'm still lurking about and I still plan to post again (when I can)

I miss you all so very much (especially my wifey <3)

Hope you all are well

much love

B

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Today I cant find one single positive thing to say about Meghan. Not even one. by u/RoohsMama

Today, I can’t find one single positive thing to say about Meghan. Not even one. When I was a baby SMM member I wrote a post asking everyone to say one positive thing about Meghan. I do this mental exercise just to “clear the decks” and make sure I only have good vibes. (One can imagine how downvoted my post was but people did manage to find at least one positive thing to say.)Today, I can’t think of any. Since that early post, Meghan has done so many unthinkable things. She mocked the late Queen in their Netflix documentary. She let her squaddies attack Catherine when the Princess of Wales was struggling with cancer. These people accused William of beating her to death because she cheated on him with another relative (who committed suicide for unrelated reasons) and so he could marry Rose HanburyShe traveled to other countries (Colombia, Nigeria) on quasi royal tours and had them foot the billThere is further confirmation that she bullied staff after the Hollywood Reporter article Even other celebrities (such as Oprah) are staying clear of her, and those who defended her have gone silent She claims to protect her children’s privacy but uses other people’s kids as PR props. The Uvalde stunt was just horrifying She still hasn’t communicated with her father Her association with charities is purely self-serving, such as the one with the Parents Network Her business ventures are shoddily done. Archewell’s paperwork is delinquent. She launched American Riviera Orchard complete with logo and webpage but it’s now stuck at the patent office There are shady dealings at their foundation with millions still unaccounted for They lied about being chased in NYC just so they can pretend to be like Diana and to regain British taxpayer-provided security She continues to use the race card to victimise herself and divides people rather than unites them She’s tweaked herself so much that it does her no favours and still wears her hair the same way with those loose strands Her fashion choices have slowly worsened through the years; when she was with the RF she had some good apparel. But none recently The businesses she supports are dodgy (ClevrBlends not upfront on ingredients sourced from China; those Cesta handbags cheat the African women who make them) She used to pretend to be vegan/pro animal life but is inconsistent with the values (uses leather goods, didn’t call out Harry’s cruelty to animals in Polo)Still lies constantly forced school kids’ parents in a New York elementary to donate to Archewell by buying her book and then silenced them with NDAsPublicises every small donation or contribution to a charity threatened to blab on her in laws by saying she hadn’t been made to sign an NDA marched in front of veterans at Invictus, while wearing shorts posed with disabled people while ignoring them the whole time made the Queen’s death about herself by demanding to be present (thus delaying Harry’s flight) and then being photographed at the Palace while the Queen’s body was being received; did fake crying, then did the curtsy she said she couldn’t do and more Everything I try to think of something nice to say, each one of the above facts came up. The only positive thing I can say today is that she and Harry have stopped having public appearances together. And that is a huge blessing. ETA: I just thought of another! She’s made Catherine even more beloved. Yay post link: https://ift.tt/otpy8kz author: RoohsMama submitted: December 21, 2024 at 07:52AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[archivalofsins]

Huh- wild week so far. Well, I guess this is less about this one week and more about the past three years.

On top of yesterday, I had a disability court hearing today. Something that had been stressing me out for a while in private.

That got postponed for later due to paperwork issues. Yet at that brief meeting it became abundantly clear to the judge, my mother, my sister, a friend, and their mom-

Yep, still disabled. Most definitely.

So, let's postpone until you get the representative paperwork that is required by law as of eight days ago in because you cannot do this without one.

Then after that my sister discovered that the psychiatrist who's been purposely blocking me from disability and accommodations for going three years as of 08/17/24. This woman is literally mentioned in the court document 334 times and the document itself is a total of 375 pages. Yeah that person became a limited liability psychiatric specialist. Something that means she is protected when it comes to cases of malpractice.

Neato. Love to see a bad bitch winning, gaslight, gatekeep, get legally protected from screwing over your patients by becoming limited liability~

That psychiatrist who I have mentioned here before was mentally abusive, dehumanized/infantilized me, withheld my diagnosis forms (for several months after testing completed), tried to get me institutionalized by claiming I was suicidal because I stated I was cutting ties with her after getting said forms, and retroactively changed my diagnosis after I cut ties while claiming I hadn't done that despite the fact I sent her a formal sign and dated letter stating I was doing that.

This is the state of american mental health care if you're black. I suppose-

Yet, some know-it-alls will still go if you have x why aren't you diagnosed. Prove it go on.

I've been in what can only be referred to as Schrodinger's diagnoses since 2022 because of this one woman. This one psychiatrist. Who for all I know is legally protected from the consequences of her actions now. Like the things she actively choose to do which includes lying Social Security Administration with malicious intent which is perjury.

Something that has led to several ever postponing court hearings based on her words alone. Each time going well maybe it will be over after this. Maybe, this will be the last time. Even worse I'm pretty sure if I was still living in the city where I was born (where it's difficult to even get a mail in ballot for some people), this may not have even gotten as far as being seen by a judge.

I genuinely thought well that's just how things are for African Americans for like the past several years. Because it is this lady's actions weren't new to me when she did it yeah it was terrible but I literally said multiple times well that's just how it goes.

Until this phone call today where several people went hey these are actually egregiously horrid circumstances and this bitch is insane.

She deserves to be sued. So, at this point, if anyone tries to act like early diagnosis isn't a privilege afforded to a lucky few- They can honestly kiss my whole ass. I don't have time to explain the intersectionality of race and class when it comes to the mental healthcare one is capable of obtaining be it through school, vocation, or familial intervention outside of what I'm typing right now.

Which is the most extreme case in my circle of associates. Even my mother was like "Oh my god she never told why didn't you explain in depth." to which I went oh yeah I forgot about that like it was just a casual thing.

Because everything else is fucking outlandish the therapist before her refused to test me because I could hold a conversation and believed critical race theory shouldn't be taught in schools which dates that interaction rather well. At that point the bar was in the fucking in the fucking ground I just wanted to get tested. That's not even touching on how most people only test children for the things I wanted to get tested for which was the issue with the critical race theory shouldn't be taught in schools psychiatrist.

My current therapist the one into Milgram has been like oh my gosh I'm just happy you wanted to continue therapy- Because this literally happened while I was seeing her. The person retesting me for adhd was like oh my gosh I'm just happy you're trying again. Meanwhile my ass has been here like it's not big deal shit happens no reason to give up on seeking treatment and lose faith in psychology as a whole. I like psychology people don't always use it right but it is a truly great field of study and tool for navigating life.

Which I still believe is a fair reaction but maybe not a strong enough one considering the last person who diagnosed me literally tried to have me arrested due to said diagnosis. Then went lol there's nothing wrong with her to a court of law in order to make it as difficult as possible for me to get disability or accommodations in any way.

Also learned my visual processing is slow and it's immensely understandable I'm not okay with driving and that's been my Tuesday. I have therapy at four pm.

In short fuck people who commit malpractice~

This shit is not fun to go through but at least I'm still alive. Next year I'll be thirty dealing with the fall out of something that happened when I was literally-

This shit is impressive. What the actual fuck is my life right now? I hope this ends soon but now my family, my friend and her mom are discussing suing this woman. Because got damn this is a lot... Fuck it. It happens to others too probably I don't know any others but like if it happened to me it's happening to someone else probably as I type this because,

Sources

Forbes Advisor: Medical Malpractice Statistics Of 2024 The Law Offices Of Jaroslawicz & Jaros, PLLC: When Can You Sue a Mental Health Professional for Malpractice? Lipkin & Apter: Types of Psychiatric Malpractice

Learning a lot today. Know your rights I suppose. Well I can take solace in knowing some of the prisoners experiences with this have been just as bad. Silver linings you know it's happen to more people because it's somewhat being represented in media for once instead of blatantly fucking ignored.

[queen-esther]

Hi i’m sorry if this is weird but can you talk more about what’s making you leave teaching? I’m in the process of getting my masters rn and i’ve really loved my placement so far but admittedly i’m a little bit uh. scared. lol.

Oh, so many reasons!

Student behaviors are out of control with increasingly less support from parents, administration, and society in general. There’s always some little excuse for why the kid decided to threaten to throw a desk at multiple classmates or wrote “FUCK ME UP THE ASS” on classroom furniture, whether it’s magically the abusive commie teacher’s fault, the poor wittle bwaby uwu is just going through a hard time and needs a bag of Takis, another kid made them upset, etc. Gentle parenting and the over-reliance on giving kids the benefit of the doubt for genuinely atrocious behavior is going to result in a very fucked up generation of adults in the next ten or so years, so be ready for that.

There’s also too much extra paperwork that doesn’t contribute to effectively getting the job done in the classroom in any way. There’s always some stupid PD to go to, some random document that needs to be filled out and uploaded, some email or phone call that just HAS to be responded to by 12:30 PM no matter how much it interrupts actually, you know, teaching your class.

I’m also very pissed off about how my maternity leave was handled, among other things. I understood my leave would be unpaid, which sucks and is honestly unacceptable, but we managed with short term disability giving me 65% of my normal paycheck while I was out. While I was on leave, I also had to deliver checks to the office to pay for my insurance premiums at the threat of having those benefits taken away. What they DIDN’T make clear to me, however, was the fact that my pay rate would be “adjusted” when I came back, so I was also getting hundreds of dollars slashed from each paycheck even when I got back to work, up until the end of this past August. In short, the school district found some legal way to double dip on withholding pay from me for having the audacity to have a baby. It’s 2024, and yet we still have a female-dominated field where this sort of thing is considered expected and okay.

There are also just little things that take away passion from teaching and add up over time. I hate having literally everything I teach revolve around making the kids pass a stupid standardized test at the end of the year. I hate having admin come in and, instead of finding ways to help me and my coworkers grow, picking out “gotchas” to make us feel like we suck at our jobs. I can’t stand being limited by following to the letter exactly the lesson plans the district hands out to us. It’s impossible to handle 16 different IEP’s for individual students. There’s an unspoken expectation that we devote hours of our personal time outside of work to focusing on work-related things.

I haven’t had a huge outbreak in trichotillomania since high school, but my traditional bald patch has started to come back in the last couple of years, I suspect from all the stress and anxiety. When I look at what I want for myself in the next ten, twenty, thirty years, this job ain’t it, especially since I would need to take out another student loan to get a master’s degree if I want to advance anywhere outside of the classroom. I’m not willing to put myself through that anymore. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[vergess]

tell us more about your crazy hut job?

I'm a "Mental Health Rehabilitation Technician," which is an extremely funny and verbose way to say I'm the overnight counselor for a halfway house.

A halfway house is a type of live-in program for people who just got out of long term hospitalization, prison, etc and need help re-adjusting to normal living. In most cases, halfway houses only rehab people for 6 months. But, in my case, it's for people who completed rehab for addiction, but because of their disabilities, still need support learning complex processes like navigating pharmacy orders and medicaid before they feel comfortable living on their own. So, they stay as long as it takes them to become comfortable managing their own insurance, utilities, meds, etc.

The position is analogous to being an overnight counselor at a summer camp, but year round and for adults with detailed but ultimately straightforward medical needs (eg: I am not qualified to do inject anything but epipens and insulin; any other injection is "a nursing home problem.")

The daytime crew does most of the actual hard work, in terms of teaching people how to interact with society and get their meds on time and so on. My job is to go through the checklist of things the state wants sterilized every day, and sterilize it all. Floors, counters, walls, trash cans, phones, etc etc. Since the facility is in an 8 bedroom house, not a medical building of any kind, there's a LOT of sterilizing of just about everything all the time. Once the sterilizing is done, I organize the paperwork from that day that the daycrew did.

And when clients need help they come to me overnight.

I help with anything from panic attacks to counting out medications to budgeting, though for the most part I'm just acting as The Keeper Of The Cigarettes.

Everyone is allowed to keep their cigarettes in their rooms, but most of them prefer to lock them in the office lockbox, since they're so expensive. If they want a smoke overnight, they come to me and I unlock the box and they take what they want. If they keep cigarettes in their room they're free to go smoke whenever as long as they do it at least 20 feet from the building.

Everyone currently living there has been there for at least a year, and the facility itself has existed for decades, so it is well known in town and by the residents. In town, no one would ever dare call "The Group Home" anything as derogatory as "the crazy hut," to be clear. I don't live in some kind of monstrous backwoods dystopia, haha.

But the residents can call their home what they like. I'm not gonna be the kind of asshole who tells people they can't have a bit of fun renaming their living situation. Especially when... you know... just because people call it "the group home" doesn't mean they actually respect our residents. If calling their house the crazy hut brings them joy and lets them feel bulwarked against the social exclusion they face, then crazy hut it is.