#i should reaaaaally do yoga

[viperbranium]

med school hates me and my notes hate me and I’ve been doing nothing but study for days (not counting the one time i did go out cause I desperately needed a break and ended up spending 5 at the hospital bc my friend broke his leg asldkhgalfkhlk) and I’m cold and tired and hungry and probably PMSing someone pls buy me one of these so I can order pizza without feeling too guilty *sobs*

[kincringeemporium]

I'm the anon who got called an ableist for not liking pedo/incest ships. I reaaaaally want to see this so called proof that therapists and psychologists say that it's okay for them to use pedo/incest/abusive etc ships as a coping mechanism. As someone who was abused as a minor, mentally, physically and sexually... and goes to therapy once a week for it, I can GUARANTEE that my psych would never tell me to do something so absurd.

exactly lmfao! most of the time when people claim "oh but my therapist says it's okay!!", here's what's going on: 

possibility 1: the person's flat out lying to tumblr. maybe the therapist doesn't know about this at all, maybe the therapist knows about Toxic Thing and thinks it's bullshit. either way, the person's lying. 

2: person lied to their therapist about how Toxic Thing (ex, shipping a canonically bad relationship as it is in canon with no change) works. therapist believes lies. therapist forms opinion of Toxic Thing, but is unaware of its toxicity and believes it's okay.

3. person explained Toxic Thing poorly and therapist formed opinion of it in the same way proposed by Possibility 2.

you know why it's important to have these ships/situations represented in media? no, pedo/incest/abuse supporters and "it's just fiction!! >:( " people, not because they're normal and should be tolerated/liked. 

noooo... let's think for a minute... i've got it! because we need to teach kids -- and people in general -- how to recognize the signs of a dangerous relationship. if the relationship isn't called out or criticised by characters in the show, that in itself is dangerous and it's very poor writing. 

but if the show and the writers make it clear how much the relationship is hurting the characters involved, especially if a character SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT IT, that's good writing! people are actively portraying these kinds of relationships as toxic and even illegal.

idk if you watch steven universe, but remember the stevonnie debut episode? remember kevin, literal king of the douchebags, will flirt with anything that moves? even fucking kevin noped the fuck out when stevonnie unfused and he saw that they were, i quote, "a couple of kids". that's an example of the writers saying, "children, it's bad for grown ups to flirt with kids." 

obviously it's terrible to say that someone should die because they ship something toxic. and it's also terrible to accuse someone of ableism because they advocate against shipping something toxic. 

"oh but it's for coping!" is bullshit, to go back to our original point. kin is also for coping. (possible trigger mention) self harm is also for coping. eating disorders can also be for coping. isolation is for coping. 

but none of those thing are healthy. just because you try doing something "for coping" does not mean it's helping you. often times, it is hurting you. why would you glorify or try to excuse something fucking horrible that happened to you? (not "you" specifically anon, just... yknow. you. in general. a person.) while giving the abuser and the character you feel represents them a tragic backstory, neither the irl abuser's or the character's tragic backstory excuses what they did. there is never, ever an excuse for abusing someone. NEVER. 

you know what else people can do to cope with abuse and trauma? they can go to therapy, like you, anon. they can write. they can draw. they can take martial arts to feel safer and get out feelings of aggression without becoming abusive themselves. they can do yoga and foster a connection to nature. they can write music or play an instrument or be in a band. they can share their story and advocate for the rights of other abuse survivors. these things won't cure the trauma, but they will help. all shipping abuse does is cause controversy and stress. 

you are not ableist.

[cvioleta]

Everything She Wants, Part 4

               Her office phone rang and Harleen picked it up absent-mindedly. Whenever she wasn’t with a patient, she had been viewing photographs from school yearbooks at the elementary schools closest to where Oakhaven Country Club had been, trying to narrow down a facial structure that might be a young Joker.

               “This is Dr. Quinzel.”

               “Harls?”  Ben’s voice crackled from the distance.  “Are you all right?  You didn’t respond to my email last night or my texts this morning. I was worried!”

               Crap, crap, crap, I totally forgot.  “Honey, I’m sorry I worried you!  I, uh, turned off my ringer for a session yesterday afternoon and completely forgot to turn it back on.” Change the subject fast, Harl – that sounds lame even to you.  “How is Dubai? How have your meetings been going?”

               Ben, true to form, was easily led.  He jumped at the opening to talk about his trip, filling her in about Dubai and his very successful first day there.  He was sure the deal was going to go off without a hitch and it looked like they were going to get in some golf. Next to Harleen, Ben loved golf above all else. She never understood the appeal of what to her was a slow paced and boring game, but it got him out of the house on weekends so that she could go to yoga or indulge herself in her secret, guilty pleasure, reading romance novels. The men in those books were nothing like the man in her house…they were exciting, unpredictable and dominant.  Harleen fantasized frequently about a man who would take the lead, but had yet to encounter one in real life.  Ben couldn’t even pick a restaurant without her help, yet could somehow successfully run a multi-million dollar business.  It was inexplicable and frustrating.  

               The phone alarm binged, reminding Harleen of her session with the Joker in 10 minutes.  “Ben, I have to go, I’ve got a patient at 2 p.m., but I’m so glad you’re having a successful trip.  Get some sleep and call me in your morning!”

               “I will, and watch your door for a surprise!”

               Harleen froze for a second but then realized that Ben’s comment had nothing to do with what she’d found on her doorstep that morning. “I can’t wait,” she responded.   She ended the call, touched up her lipstick and prepared for battle.

               When she arrived at the room, her patient wasn’t there yet. She looked at the guard and raised an eyebrow.

               “He ain’t cooperating today, Dr. Q,” the guard grumbled.  “Two of the boys went to get it done.”

               She nodded and decided to wait in the hallway so that she could continue to search Oakhaven pictures on her phone. The reception in the session room was nonexistent.  As she browsed, she heard a commotion from behind her. She turned and saw the Joker being marched down the hallway by two guards who had him restrained in every way possible.  Straps over his head and face had been added to the straitjacket, as well as ankle chains connecting his feet so that he could only move at a slow shuffle. Arkham’s guards were burly, ex football player types whereas the Joker was slim and athletic.  Harleen wondered why the overkill.  The guards wrestled the Joker into the room and strapped him to the waiting chair.  His hair was wild, he was sweating and she could see that he had fresh bruises and cuts on his face and hands.

               “He’s a crazy motherfucker, Doc., there ain’t no fixing that,” opined a beefy but none too bright guard named Kuzik.  

               Harleen was suddenly angry.   “Where did you get your psychiatry degree from, Kuzik?  The ones in the bottom of a Crackerjack box don’t count.” 

               From inside the room, she heard the Joker cackling. He’d stop quickly enough when he realized he was her next target.  She entered and closed the door.  The Joker was smiling delightedly at her.

               “Shut up,” she said and saw the anger flare for a moment in his face. “We’re going to start today by talking about the word no. I don’t think you hear it a lot.”

               He laughed again, “Oh, I hear it, Doctor. It just tends to stop after I shoot them in the mouth.”

               Harleen sat down and stared at him.  She would show no weakness, nor look away.  “Did you think I’d be impressed that you found out where I lived?  Any 13 year old with an Internet connection could do that,” she scoffed. 

               “But I’m not a 13 year old with an Internet connection. I’m a 35 year old who is sitting before you trussed up like a turkey, “ he observed.  

               Harleen shrugged.  “Your goons are earning their keep.  I’d love to analyze them and find out what scares them so much that they obey you even when you are, in your own words, locked up here and trussed up like a turkey.”

               The Joker smiled.  “A better question is, what scares you so much that you’ve hooked up with a yuppie with an MBA and the personality of a piece of cardboard?  I’m so disappointed in you, I thought you had more spirit than that.  I bet he plays golf, doesn’t he, Doctor?   Probably watches it on television all weekend long, too.”  

               Yes, and I hate it, she thought.  But she remembered herself and her position and she was determined not to react to anything she said.  “Playing golf is a healthy, nonviolent way of relieving stress.  You might want to try it,” she offered, smiling just as amiably. “Your methods of relieving stress aren’t working out so well for you.”

               Cut the maniacal laughter; it was like everything she said was funny.  “On the contrary,” the Joker argued, “I have fame, wealth and – how did dear old Dr. Arkham put it? – an army to do my bidding.”

               Did he have the whole place bugged?  Amazing. “But not your freedom,” Harleen reminded him.

               “Do you reaaaaally believe this place could hold me if I chose to go?” he asked her.

               Harleen supposed that it did not, but was confused just the same.  “Why wouldn’t you choose your freedom if it was an option?”

               The Joker smiled.  “It’s easy to get. Most things are easy to get – freedom, money, guns, alcohol, drugs…women. After a while, it’s all so tedious.”

               “You stay in an asylum because it’s too easy to leave?” she asked softly.  He didn’t answer, just gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. 

               The Joker shifted in his chair and tried to roll his shoulders in the straitjacket.  “Dr. Quinzel, may I ask a small favor?”

               “You can always ask,” she answered, leaving unsaid that asking did not mean getting. He caught it and grinned. She was a firecracker, underneath her outward politeness and decorum.  What would it take to light her up?  Time to start finding out.

               “I have a horrible itch right under my left shoulder blade and I can’t move in this thing. Would you mind?”

               She took a moment to consider if there was any way he could harm her if she was standing behind him. She didn’t think so, plus in that position she could easily flip him if by some chance he got free. As he had correctly observed in their first session, she was trained in martial arts – and very good at it. Harleen got up and walked around the table, taking care to stay at a safe distance until she was fully behind him. It was hard to even figure out where a shoulder blade would be under the straitjacket, but she made her best guess and began to scratch his back.  

               “Ohhhhh…just a bit lower. Yes, that’s it right there.” Harleen could not help but notice how the man was made of solid muscle.    Every inch felt taut and fit under her fingertips.  She was tempted to run a hand up the bicep that she could see bulging out from the restraint – she’d always been turned on by muscular arms. Stop it for God’s sake, this is a patient and on top of that he’s a psychotic killer who’s already stalking you.  Go sit down! She forced herself to return her hands to her sides and walked back to her own chair.  

               The Joker looked peaceful.  “I think I’m done talking for today.  Thank you for the assistance.  I’ll stop giving Tweedledum and Tweedledumber a hard time.”

               “That would be nice,” Harleen observed.  “If what’s easy is boring to you, then violence should have become boring a long time ago.”

               He leaned forward.  “Violence is like sex, Doctor. Even if it’s easy to get – it can still be fantastic.”  The Joker was still laughing as she walked out of the room without a backward glance.