#the fact that psychiatrist can just Do this is crazy to me

[fitzfunnymoments]

Suddenly realizing Oh okay so once again a psychiatrist is refusing to see me because of my selective mutism

[schizopositivity]

My partner just showed me the strangest video that came up on their tiktok. The video was of a woman that said something along the lines of "Did you know all schizophrenic people smell bad? They just have a bad odor that is always present. Even if they shower, and use deodorant, they just smell bad constantly for their whole life."

And that video was stitched by some guy wearing scrubs who said something like "actually this is true, here is one article from the 70's of a psychiatrist who had noticed that a lot of his schizophrenic patients smelled bad". So, someone posing as a medical care worker saying this is true, but his only evidence is that one psychiatrist said this once. No trials, no real evidence, not even an attempt at an explanation on why they think every schizophrenic person just smells bad all the time.

But the most absurd part about this is that there wasn't a single comment disagreeing or asking for proof of this supposed phenomenon. It was just full of people saying "I knew a schizophrenic person and they always smelled bad!" or "I've noticed this too! They always just smell awful!"

There's so many things wrong with this. First off, they are being vague as hell, "smell bad" could mean many different types of smell, and can be caused by so many different things. Second, like I said, absolutely no proof at all, but they say it as if it is an undisputed fact. People are so quick to bully people with schizophrenia, that they don't even check that this is legit, or even sensical. Third, how do they think this would be true? You could argue that schizophrenic people are more likely to be homeless and not have access to showers or hygiene products. You could argue that schizophrenic people could be mentally ill to the point where they neglect their hygiene for long periods of time. But the first speaker went out of her way to clarify that the bad smell is there even after showering and deodorant. So do they think that this is an innate biological side effect of having schizophrenia? How would that even work? The more you think about this whole thing the less sense it makes.

This was just a ramble about a great example of how people with schizophrenia are consistently harassed and dehumanized. And no one will stand up for us, or even question it, because so many people view us as less than human. We deal with so much stigma that makes people believe we are dangerous, crazy, unintelligent, and a burden to the people around us. But that wasn't enough, so now we are all inherently stinky, just always smell bad, and they present that as a fact. It just goes to show how so many people don't care what we as schizophrenic people will think about it, or how it will affect us, because they simply do not care about us at all. They don't consider us as equal. As humans who are the ones experiencing the stigma along with our mental illness, and have to face each day with the weight of both on our shoulders. With no relief given to us from the people who have the privilege of not experiencing either one.

Not all schizophrenic people smell bad. That is just a lie that people are willing to believe because they already don't care about us as people.

[gor3sigil]

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Oh

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 16

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You sit in another hard plastic chair, this time in an office. You can still hear the chaos of the hospital wing out the walls, a constant reminder of why you’re there. You sit with your elbow on the armrest, your chin in your hand as you bite your fingertips.

The nurse, or nurse practitioner, you don’t know the difference, sits across from you, making notes about your last response. Her questions are pointless. She’s asking about your day, well, it’s obvious that’s not going well. And your hobbies. What do those matter? You don’t do anything so you don’t have an answer for that.

She smiles across at you as she clears her throat. The sort of smile dripping in pity. You get it a lot from the old ladies at the grocery store when they see you helping your mother.

“Have you ever had a period where you felt down? Not just for a week or two but, in fact, for many weeks and, perhaps, months?” She asks.

You don’t answer right away. You push your shoulder up and sit back, dropping your hand to your lap. You frown and look at the ceiling.

“Hm, I guess. Sometimes... yeah.”

All the time.

“Along with that, did you find you had no energy, had no interest in things, and overall had great difficulty functioning?”

Functioning? In what way? Going outside? Smiling? Feeling anything but heavy dread? Not crying until your eyes are raw? Having friends?

“Sure, but uh, I take care of my mom. I don’t have time... sometimes...I get tired.”

"Right,” she scribbles noisily with her pen, “Has this ever happened to you before?”

“Has what happened?” You make yourself look at her.

“These bouts of sadness?”

“My mom is sick. It makes me sad.”

“What about today? You said that you... lost track of time.”

“I’m... my mom... I didn’t sleep well... I don’t know.”

She hums and nods. She pauses as she reads over her folder and puts the pen down. She crosses her arms over the desk.

“It’s normal for caretakers to suffer from depression. You’re taking on a lot so there’s no need to be ashamed. You did so well being so honest today. Really. It makes it easier for us to help you,” she smiles again. What about any of this is happy? “I’m going to write you a prescription. Just a few doses for now, okay? To help you through. And we’ll schedule a follow-up with a psychiatrist.”

“A psychiatrist?” You utter, your eyes hot with tear. “I’m not crazy.”

“That’s not... crazy, we don’t speak like that. And you’re not. You’re hurting and you need relief. That’s all,” she explains, “so, the pills I’m going to send you off with. I want you to be very careful, okay? No alcohol. They’re going to make you drowsy so no driving either.”

“But... my mom doesn’t drive. She can’t.”

“It’s just for a few days. You might want to consider looking into some of the local services. You can find a home nurse to come help out if you qualify,” she gets up and goes to a cabinet against the wall, “I have some pamphlets. You can take them with you and I’ll have someone find you with some samples of the pills. That way, you don’t need to pay, alright?”

Your lips trembles and you bite it to keep it still. You nod and stand as you flick the wetness from your eyes, “can I go?”

“Sure, I’m sure your mom will be ready to see you soon,” she approaches you with a handful of glossy leaflets. “I’ll walk you out.”

You take the pamphlets and she follows you to the door. You step into the hall as she stays close, “Mr. Rogers,” she calls over your shoulder as Steve sits in the hall waiting, “she’s all good. Got her sorted.”

“Great, uh, well, good news,” he stands, rubbing his lowers back, “your mom’s awake.” He announces, “can finally get off this stiff chair.”

“See, that’s wonderful,” the nurse nudges your arm, “I’ll have the medications brought to her room. Have a good day, hon.”

You clutch the pamphlets and stare at Steve’s chest. He points you down the hall and walks beside you.

“Everything go okay? What was that she said about medication?”

“Pills.”

“Pills? For what?” He prompts as he leads you along the hallway.

“Depression.”

“Oh.”

You look down, “guess I might be. I don’t know.”

“You work really hard, sweetie. You’re not invincible,” he comforts and rubs your back. You wince at his unexpected touch, “all this stress...” he trails off and reaches for the pamphlets in your hands. You let him take one, “what’s this?”

He reads as he walks, unbothered by the nurses rushing by and the cleaners in their grey scrubs.

“Home nurse? Hm, that might be a good option,” he clucks, “or maybe... I wouldn’t mind helping out, you know? I know it’s early days but I think we’ve gotten really close.” He folds up the paper and hands it back, “me and your mom... us too, I think.”

You shrug and drag your soles on the floor. He reads the door number as you reach your mom’s room and he waves you in ahead of him. You keep your head down as you go past the curtain as he directs you from behind. You stand at the foot of the bed, too afraid to look up.

“I’m starving,” your mother snarls. She sounds like herself, just tired.

You peek up and your eyes round. She scowls at you as she lays tangled in tubes. You quiver in relief. She’s alive and she seems mostly okay.

“What’re you staring at?” She sneers, “I know I look like death. I feel like it too.”

“Holly,” Steve steps forward, “thank god.” He comes to her side, “we were so worried.”

“Heh,” she snorts.

“Really, when I found you...” he tries to block you out as he lowers his voice, “you never told me you weren’t supposed to drink.”

“Never bothered me much before,” she dismisses, “figured it was just a precaution.”

“Excuse me,” a voice comes from the doorway and you look over at a young man in blue scrubs. He says your name, “I have some samples for you.”

You turn and wave meekly, confirming your identity. He enters and hands you several boxes secured together with a thick elastic.

“Directives on the side,” he points to the folded paper also looped under the rubber band.

“Thanks,” you say and he leaves you just as quickly.

Your turn back to your mom as her eyes center on you. She looks horrible. Sickly. Worse than you’ve ever seen her.

“What’s all that then?” She scoffs.

You try to hide the boxes under your arm and shake your head.

“Typical. She’s gotta get her share of attention.”

“Holly,” Steve girds, disappointment harshening his tone, “she was sick with worry over you. The nurse gave her those to calm down.” He grips the bedrail until his knuckles pale, “she has depression, you know? All the stress--”

“Stress?” Your mom rolls her eyes, “I didn’t realise she was the sick one. She’s not depressed, she’s lazy.”

Silence. Stifling, suffocating silence. You lower your chin, “it’s... I probably won’t take any of it. I was just... in shock. I’m sure I’m fine.”

“But the nurse said--” Steve begins, “you’re going to at least try it. You never know, it could help. And if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

“Oh, don’t baby her. She’s grown,” your mom’s too out of it to filter her spite. You see the disgust in Steve’s expression as he looks at her.

“Holly, please, she’s your daughter.”

“I know who she is,” she snarls, “why are you taking her side anyway? She doesn’t need pills. It’s just another excuse.”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, “I’m gonna chalk this up to whatever they’re pumping you full of. Holly, you’re not thinking straight. I know you would say all that to her.”

“Stop defending her. She’s not as innocent as she pretends.”

He shakes his head and glances over at you, “look, you just woke up, you’re out of it. I get it. Let’s just all calm down.”

“She’s a sniveling little brat,” she barks as she leans back. “This is all her fault. She knew I wasn’t supposed to drink. She didn’t stop me.”

Steve blanches and his eyes cling to you. You see the chagrin lined in his forehead. You look away in shame. You never wanted a witness to your mother’s wrath. That’s worse than facing her alone. It’s humiliating.

[chrisrin]

hi so i got diagnosed with adhd like 6 months ago after continuously insistently denying i had it to everyone who swore up and down that i did have it. then a psychiatrist was "yeah you have it bro" and i've been re-evaluating everything in my life. anyways. that's context, and with that re-evaluating i've realized something about my hyperfixations and i want to know if:

a) people with adhd relate to it. b) how do you. deal with this. because i think it's somewhat ruining how i interact with media.

anyways, under the read more ->

i've come to realize a pattern with media i consume that i get fixated on. typically this happens with longer media. so stuff like homestuck, and currently with one piece. stuff that i cant binge in an evening or two. (i am on chapter 170 of one piece at the moment of writing this, i read 40 chapters yesterday)

i obviously can't be consuming the new piece of media i'm into every second of my day, in fact, that sounds exhausting.

i have other things i need to get done and, in fact, i NEED to be doing other things because even with something i'm hyperfixated on, my brain will get bored and needs to bounce off other types content. however what this does mean is that every thought i have IS still hyperfixated on the piece of media which means i will still seek out that content even if it's not me reading the original source material.

what this MEANS is that i have all these video essays recommended to me about one piece because youtube has caught on that i am liking and enjoying ONE PIECE (same with twitter. my entire twitter for you page is completely consumed by one piece. i dont know who 2/3rds of these people are please im still in alabasta what is happening) and i Want to Watch them all but i'm in the stage rn where Everything Is A Spoiler so i CANT watch the video essays so ill instead watch them RIGHT UP UNTIL im in the danger zone of being spoiled (sometimes actually risking/getting spoiled) or watching random out of context one piece clips and my one piece friends are all telling me i am just like icarus and flying too close to the sun but i also feel like i can't help the compulsion in some ways? it also means i cannot help but talk about it in every conversation i have with everyone but that seems like, minorly connected to all this.

it's crazy because in my head this is the Worst Stage of the hyperfixation, where i can Only consume the media itself and not all the fan stuff around it. but that's Insane because this should be the best time because i'm literally experiencing the cool media i like for the first time. i feel insane. does anyone else relate to this. how do you deal with it?

[caraphernellie]

wip !! here's a moodboard <3

fake happy // e.w.

ellie williams is a freak, and that's just a fact. others deemed that she is not to be trusted from the moment she was born. in a world where everything is real and raw, it's hard to lie. but ellie doesn't quite fit into the category of 'real and raw.'

everybody's moods are displayed above their heads like little emoticons - there's no fake, there's no lies, there's simply emotion. except for ellie. nobody could figure out why ellie's feelings were not displayed. she'd been seen by every doctor, every specialist, every psychiatrist, and psychologist, and none of them knew what could cause this. and so an assumption was made that she doesn't feel anything.

nobody knows how she feels at any given moment, and in a world where people are spoiled with honesty, nobody wants to believe ellie isn't dishonest. nobody wants to be played by her.

somehow surviving life up to college without ever even having a friend, ellie's accepted that she's in for a lonely life. the only person she has is joel, and well, even he can be misunderstanding at times.

and ellie's sure her professor must hate her, because he partnered her for a project with the one girl who is always happy, without fail. the girl whose mood above her head is always, always, always a yellow smiley face. ellie would even say she's jealous, that she hates you, but she can't help but feel herself smiling whenever you're around. you're like a ray of sunshine. if sunshine knew how to lie.

ok ok ok so. i feel a little bit crazy and like nobody is going to like this fic but i kind of want to write it. this is just me posting to see if anyone actually would read it 😭 not like that would motivate/demotivate me but idk. im curious paramore inspired fics first of all, the best ones. secondly, i feel like maybe years ago i read a fic with a similar premise which inspired this but it's also mainly inspired by the music video for fake happy by paramore. and also, i always write fics about reader having the 'i can fix her' mentality for ellie so this time it's ellie saying 'i can fix her' about reader. this one would be for my fellow sad/anxious girlies who love big hurt/comfort vibes. it would be an angsty ride but not without lots of comfort :D two people who are very sad falling in love and helping each other with their issues? i think yes. this fic would be very? angst and hurt/comfort and some fluff idk if there'd be smut ... anyway this was more a way for me to brainstorm for the idea (by making the moodboard and blurb) i have yet to do literally any plotting or writing for it..

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 i stand with palestine, and for that reason, i require everyone on my blog to keep themselves educated and participating in the fight for palestine's freedom. here are some links to educate yourself- 1, 2, 3. the last of us part 2 in particular is a game with zionist background. do not support neil druckmann by buying any of the games and please continue to engage in your media with critical analysis!! stay educated. !!! i urge you to participate in the global strike for palestine from february 18th - 25th !!!

[trans-axolotl2]

Fuck the DSM. Seriously, fuck the DSM.

The DSM is and always has been used primarily as a method of rationalizing mistreatment of the people it labels as "deviant." When you look at the history of psychiatry, it becomes clear that things like drapetomania, protest psychosis, hysteria, and homosexuality as a disorder were not just thrown into there randomly. Rather, it showcases the power of the DSM: labeling and categorizing ways of being as mental illness opens up new paths of incarceration, social control, and curative violence. I need people to understand that the modern DSM still works like this: these classifications of madness/mental distress/neurodivergence into psychiatric labels encourage society to treat madness/mental distress/neurodivergence with the apparatuses used to eradicate "deviance." Diagnosis is not neutral.

As mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, we deserve access to more explanatory models of madness/mental illness/ neurodivergence than what the psychiatric language of normalcy and disorder offers us. Whether this looks like rejecting diagnosis, embracing varying cultural understandings of mental experience, or any million different ways of interpreting our bodymind, we deserve the option to move beyond clinical language that tries to convince us not to trust ourselves. We deserve to view ourselves wholly, leaving room for all our experiences of madness/mental illness/neurodivergence--the meaningful, the terrifying, the joyful, the exhausting. We deserve to have our own relationship with our madness, instead of being pushed to view ourselves as an inherent "danger to self or others" simply by existing as crazy.

Here's another truth: I hate the DSM, and I still call myself bipolar, a diagnosis that came to me through psych incarceration. While I wholeheartedly reject the DSM and the system intertwined with it, I simultaneously acknowledge and believe that many of the collections of symptoms that the DSM describes are very, very real ways of living in the world, and that the distress that they can cause are very very real. When I say fuck the DSM, I don't mean "Mental distress, disability, and neurodivergence aren't real." Rather, I mean that the DSM can never hold my experience of what it is like to be bipolar, the meaning I derive from experiencing life with cyclical moods. The DSM can't hold within its pages what it's like to see my mood cycle not as a tragedy or disaster, but instead as an opportunity, a gift, to grow and shift and go back to the same place over and over again, dying in winter and blooming again in spring. The DSM can't hold the fact that even though I experience very, very real distress due to those mood cycles--they're still mine and I claim that as something that matters to me. I call myself bipolar as a shorthand to tell people that I experience many things both extreme high and low, but I do not mean the same thing when I say "bipolar" as a psychiatrist does.

When we build community as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, I want us to have room to share, relate, and care for each other in ways that isn't calling to the authority of a fucked up system with strictly defined categories. I don't want us to take those same ways of thinking and rebrand it into advocacy that claims to fight stigma, but really just ends up reinforcing these same ideas about deviance, cure, control, and danger. I dream of the day when psychiatry doesn't loom as a threat in all of our lives, and I think part of that work requires us as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people to really grapple with and untangle the ways we label and make meaning of our minds.

ok to reblog, if you want to learn more about antipsychiatry/mad studies check out this reading list.

[sophieinwonderland]

Hey friend. You have a really creative mind. You seem really intelligent. I feel like if you put your mind to anything you could probably succeed at it. This is not it. I mean this with compassion and in a clinical sense, you are experiencing a delusion. And that is okay. I’m not saying you’re crazy nor that anyone else experiencing this is crazy. If you can open your mind to that, it might help to talk with a therapist. I understand it can be a lot to take in and they can help with that. Much love and peace to you, my friend.

Hi friend!

You seem confused about what a delusion is! There are a lot of different definitions out there, but for simplicity's sake, how about me just use Wikipedia!

So here's the belief: "We are plural."

In order for this to be a delusion, you would need to be able to prove that it is a false belief. Or at least provide strong evidence. Are you able to do this?

So far, I have never seen a sysmed be able to provide evidence for their claims. There's a blog called @basic-questions-for-anti-endos. For 10 days this blog asked anti-endos in their own tags to provide any evidence of even one single psychiatrist saying that you need to have trauma to be plural. Over those 10 days, not one came forward with even one single quote.

I've been asking that same question for three years now.

Meanwhile, pro-endos have repeatedly been able to cite many doctors across psychiatry and psychology that have affirmed that you can be plural without trauma. Some of whom are even studying tulpas right now at Stanford University. Early reports of this study's findings have shown neurological changes in these tulpa systems during possession.

I consider this blog a fact first zone. If you want to diagnose somebody with suffering from delusions then the burden of proof is on you to prove that they are.

So show me the evidence!

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL’S BEACH ࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

THREE — iv bags and daffodils

"he looks at me like I'm below him. he doesn't say it nor does he act that way but his eyes say it all. patient likes loves power. he craves it" — MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Maya faces a moral dilemma, trying to pick between her livelihood and ethics all while under the watchful eye of the hospital director and her patient, Kurokawa Izana.

chapter warnings: inaccurate depictions of psychiatric hospitals, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression, drug use, allusions to sex, abuse of authority, power imbalance, unethical use of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of rape, mentions of murder

word count: 4213

moodboard | masterlist | previous | chapter 4

Pretty is what Kurokawa Izana would use to describe Kaneko Maya. She was so pretty. Kaneko Maya was cute, funny, pretty and just Manjiro's type. Had his younger brother not been a depressed little shit right now, Izana would have gotten Ran to gift her to Manjiro. Even if he did now, Izana doubts Manjiro would even do anything. He heard that depression affects the libido. Even before he was admitted into this shitty psychiatric hospital, no matter how many hostess bars he took Manjiro to, how many hookers he called over, how many strip clubs— Manjiro was just bored. For a while, he thought the guy was probably a nervous virgin who only knew how to fight but after a drunken conversation with Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro's childhood friend, he finds out that was in fact not the case. Manjiro was pretty popular with the girls when they were in middle school(due to his shoulder-length blonde hair and girls having a huge thing for pretty boys with the deep voices). Manjiro was 100%, not a virgin and just depressed as hell. "Kakucho" Izana says holding the flip phone against his ear "How's everything going?"

Friday came by pretty quickly as usual. "It's fine as usual. You'll be out on Monday. Are you excited?" Kakucho, his childhood and right-hand man asks

Izana leans back in his shitty bed and stares out the window. It's about 10:30 am, the sun is still rising. "Yeah, about time. If it wasn't for the cute little doctor that gives me company during her night shift, would've gone fuckin' crazy for real"

"That sounds unprofessional" Kakucho mutters in disappointment

Izana laughs. "It's actually not like that. Cute kid, fresh outta uni"

Kakucho laughs. It's rare to hear Kakucho laugh. "I don't believe that one-bit Izana"

"Well, you better. Kaneko Maya, real eye candy" Izana hums and stares up at the white ceiling and starts to ramble about her "talks a lot and y’know I usually hate girls that yap but she's a real cutie. Thinkin' she can fix me and shit. It’s so fuckin’ cute. She's got this little notebook she takes notes on when she talks to me. Nosey as fuck but real cute. Got these blowjob eyes—"

"She's a psychiatrist, she's supposed to be nosey," Kakucho cuts him off before he can get vulgar, simultaneously ignoring the number of times Izana used the word cute to describe his psychiatrist "What did you say her name was again?"

Izana scoffs. "You gonna do a background check on my little doctor Kakucho? This late in too? 'M leavin' Monday"

"It's my job"

Of course, it was. Kakucho was protective. Overprotective at times. It was one of the reasons Izana kept him around. To feel wanted(and because he cared about him but Izana won't say that out loud). "Kaneko Maya. How 'bout ya’ tell me what cha' find when you're done"

"Of course"

And they end the phone call not long after. Izana sits in silence for a while and sighs tiredly. He stares down his left arm with the iv in it. Apparently whatever medication was being given to him was essential to his recovery but he really fuckin' hated it. He felt like actual shit. Tired all the time, sleepy as shit. He hated it. Oh well, he was getting out this Monday anyway. He had been here for 2 months and Maya had only been working here for a month. Perhaps had she been here the whole time the first month would have been more bearable as well. He was leaving Monday anyway. Maybe if Maya was that kind of girl she'd take up the offer of coming to his beach house and maybe she'd even put Manjiro in a good mood with those cute puppy eyes she has. After all, Manjiro has always had a fixation on cute and pretty things and Izana knew him long enough to know that. Izana hears his door click and inwardly sighs in annoyance at whoever was going to enter his room. He glares at the door but his harsh gaze immediately turns into one of surprise when seeing his night shift doctor. "what are you doing here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at Maya

Maya is wearing her blue scrubs, her white doctor's coat sleeves folded to her elbows. She's got the pager clipped to her belt, the key bracelet thing around her wrist and her ID card securely clipped to the breast pocket on her coat. "wow no hi or good morning or how are you?" Maya asks sarcastically, the door shutting with a click behind her

Her eyes are slightly red and she looks exhausted. Her hair is tied back in a bun with a few curly strands framing her face. "Hi, good morning, how are you?" Izana says sarcastically then changes immediately to a more serious and authoritative tone "You ended your shift 6 hours ago. Go home"

Maya's shift starts from 9 pm to 4 am, she brings the patients dinner because the nurses pushed the job onto her, brings the trays back and down to the kitchen, then comes back up and sticks around as there wasn't much to do unless one of the patients/criminals, needed something which wasn't often. "Yeah... But I fell asleep in the breakroom after my shift and the old man in charge of the morning told me to take his shift and went home before I could say anything" she complained and plopped down on the chair and bolted down on the floor by his bed "I complained to the director but he told me that since I was here anyway I should just take the shift and he'd paid me extra"

Izana can't help but roll his eyes. She really wanted to pay off those loans huh? "I think that's called exploitation" He says

Which is huge coming from Izana considering what he does for a living. "Yeah but... Money" she shrugs "I get to leave at lunchtime though and don't have to come back for the night shift"

"Oh gee! How great!" Izana says sarcastically once again

Izana feels a bit odd being annoyed about the fact that his doctor is being taken advantage of. He's known her for a month and he knows she's kind and these other shitty old people employed here liked to take advantage of her kindness. To make it worse she rarely complained about it. Oh well, at least he gets to see her longer and talk to her for longer. "Haven't seen those before" Izana says looking at the two necklaces she was wearing

One was a gold oval pendant with a delicate border and the outline of a flower in the center of it. The second necklace, also gold, was a small butterfly pendant. Cute. "What's the thing in the center of the coin?" He asks "A rose?"

Maya looks down at her necklace and realizes they are untucked. It was a huge safety hazard considering she could be choked. But Sunshine Grove was a shitty psychiatric hospital and none of the employees really took safety seriously(Maya neither) so they rarely removed jewelry and just kept things like necklaces tucked under their clothes. "Ah~ it's a daffodil," Maya tells him, touching the pendant "my birth flower. My birthday's in March"

Izana chuckles. How cute. "Your birth flower, hm..."

One thing Izana liked about Maya was that she tended to ramble about random things that interested her. "Oh oh have you heard that greek myth story about daffodils?" She asks

Izana would usually be annoyed at this kind of rambling but perhaps Maya had the privilege to just talk. Pretty privilege is what Ran calls it. Izana forgot what he meant since he usually tunes whatever Ran says, out but he figures maybe this is what it is. "So basically there was this guy Narcissus. He was supposedly really good-looking. But he never found anyone that could attract him. He left a long trail of distressed and broken-hearted maidens, and one or two young men fell as well" she giggles a bit then continues the story "Then, one day, he happened to see his own reflection in a pool of water and, thus, discovered the ultimate in unrequited love and fell in love with himself. Obviously, this one-way relationship went nowhere, and Narcissus, unable to draw himself away from the pool, pined away in despair until he finally died of thirst and starvation"

Izana raises a brow. "What?"

"Yeah, and he turned into a daffodil. So another name for daffodils is Narcissus" 

Izana can't help but laugh. What a stupid story. "I'm guessing this shitty story has a moral like all Greek myths"

Maya nods. "I think it was a warning not a moral. Something like ‘love and obsession lie closer together than we think’ or something" 

Oh. Time passes by when Maya rambles. She was honestly the highlight of his day or well, night. But right now it was the day so she was the highlight of his day. He figures that since she's here right now she won't be here tonight and since it was Friday he won't see her till Monday. He’ll stay a while before he leaves on Monday to say goodbye. Time passes by fast and soon comes lunch. "You know doctor, if there's one thing I'll miss about this shitty place it'll be you talking my ear off" Izana says playfully

Maya laughs. "really well—" she pauses taking in his word "what do you mean? I'm still gonna be working here y'know"

"I'm leaving Monday. Getting discharged and will be back to my normal life" He tells her with a grin "what are you gonna miss me?"

He's being playful but the expression on Maya's face makes him confused. Why is she looking at him like that. He watches her pull out the little notebook of her's and flip through the pages. Izana watches as she mutters something to herself and all he hears are little curse. "Hey, doctor... What's wrong?" He asks in confusion

Why was this her reaction? Maya gets up and walks over to where his IV bag was hung up. She looks long and hard at the bag then turns to him. She's standing right next to him. She rarely gets this close. "You're leaving on Monday?" she repeats with a frown “like discharged and going home?”

Izana is starting to get worried and a bit aggravated, not understanding why she's looking at him like that. As far as he knew she knew nothing about him or what he did. So why was she giving him that look? "Doctor. I'd like to know why you're looking at me like that" Izana says slowly

He isn't nervous. Not at all. A man like him isn't nervous. He's concerned. There's a huge difference between the two emotions. He watches Maya take a breath. "Um... Mr. Kurokawa..." She pauses and looks at him nervously "What... What are you here for? What are you admitted here for?"

That question confuses him. Why was she asking him that? Shouldn't she know? "You should know what I'm here for" He tells her lowly, narrowing her eyes at him "You're my—"

"Mr. Kurokawa" Maya says, her voice a bit breathy 

She looks scared almost and it's starting to annoy the hell out of Izana. "Cocaine addiction. Now tell me why you're making that face"

Maya looks nervous, scared and confused. So many different emotions swirl around in her eyes. "So... You're not a convicted criminal?"

He was 100% a criminal but not a convicted one. No one has caught him yet but Maya didn't need to know that. "No and why does that relate to this?"

Maya looks like she might throw up. "You're here for addiction but you're on the fourth floor and not second" She says

"Why should I be on the second floor?" He asks, his voice demanding and angry

Maya sucks in a breath. "second floor is where patients admitted for addiction stay... You're on the fourth floor where the convicted criminals who got off by claiming insanity"

Oh. Oh… Maya chews nervously at her bottom lip. She looks like she might throw up and Izana is pissed. He's fucking pissed. He watches Maya pat her pockets and she pulls out a piece of gauze and then takes his hand. He's about to ask what she's doing but then she puts the gauze pad over the insertion site as gently as she can. She starts to pull it out, increasing pressure as she smoothly withdraws the catheter. Izana stays silent and watches her stick a bandaid to the area. "keep pressure on it for a few minutes" she mumbles and grabs the IV bag

Izana puts his thumb over his wrist where the IV was inserted and watches her. She looked like she was going to be sick and it was pissing him off. What the hell? Maya is about to leave but he stops her. "Doctor... If this is what I think it is..." Izana says slowly

Maya just shakes her head and leaves his room. Izana narrows his eyes, staring at the door. He looks down at his wrist where the IV was just taken out of and was now replaced with a bandage. He stares for a moment longer then pulls out the flip-phone again and calls Kisaki. 

"What's this?" Maya threw the half-empty IV bag onto the hospital director's desk

The hospital director, Doctor Nakamura, narrows his eyes at her. "I don't appreciate you coming in without knocking Doctor Kaneko" He says lowly

Maya wasn't going to back down today. She needed answers. She may be new, she may have just graduated a few months ago but what was wrong was wrong. "Why is Mr Kurokawa on the fourth floor and not the second? He's here for cocaine addiction not for a court order" Maya was going to get her answers today "Why is he being given a sedative and that too, that high of a dose?"

She didn't care about superiority or anything. It didn't matter. Not now when a patient was clearly not being treated for what he came for. This was against the ethics of a doctor. "Doctor Kaneko..." Doctor Nakamura says, grabbing the half-empty IV bag with a dark almost crazed look in his eyes "That man... That man is evil incarnate—"

Maya rubs her temples. "Cocaine addiction does not make a man evil incarnate. You run a psychiatric hospital you can’t say things like that. Whatever it is you did, whatever it is you're doing is wrong" Maya says sternly

This was making her sick. She couldn't believe this. She knew Sunshine Grove was shitty with how they'd push all the work onto her but she didn't think it was so shitty that they'd give a patient a drug they didn't even need. This was disgusting.  "Doctor Kaneko. You don't know what he did. this is much deeper than cocaine addiction"

"He's getting out on Monday! Mr. Kurokawa has been here for 2 months" Maya argues "If he did something so bad, he wouldn't be leaving. He'd be in jail"

Doctor Nakamura doesn't look like he has the patience for this. But Maya doesn't either. What was wrong, was wrong. "Listen Miss Kaneko..." He says slowly, now looking very aggravated, no longer using her proper title "We'll have this conversation on Monday when your shift starts. How about you go home? You must be exhausted"

It wasn't a suggestion but an order. "Unless you want to start looking for another hospital that will hire you, Miss Kaneko"

Maya feels a lump rise in her throat. No. Nonononono. No. She can't lose her job. She can't. She stares at Doctor Nakamura with wide eyes. This wasn't fair. She was trying to do the right thing and— shit. She opens her mouth to say something, to try and argue, to at least give him a threat of reporting him for mistreating Kurokawa Izana but nothing comes out. Maya feels powerless. It was between her livelihood and her morals. Was this what her mother meant? Was this what she meant when she said it was hard to be a doctor? Maya thought psychiatrists were different. She thought... She thought... This wasn't fair. She clenches his fists and lowers her head. "Yes sir" she says in defeat and promptly leaves the office

Maya walks back to the lockrooms with her head down. She feels like shit. She can't believe she gave in that easily. She hates herself. She can't even get herself to go back up to Izana's room and give him an explanation. She's horrible. She's a shit person and she knows that the guilt is gonna make her sick till she throws up. Maya pulls her hair out of the bun and runs her fingers through it angrily as she walks into the locker room without paying attention to her surroundings. stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid— "shit!"

Maya looks up at realizes she just had her book main character moment where she bumps into the really hot guy's rock-hard chest. The guy no doubt was very hot. He's a security guard by the looks of the uniform but doesn't look like anyone she's seen on duty before. He has black hair parted in the center, olive-toned skin and heterochromatic eyes, one red and the other silver. But what really caught Maya's eye was the scar on his face. Starting from his left ear, going over the corner of his left(silver) eye then up across his forehead and disappearing into his hairline. Maya stops staring and lowers her gaze. "S-sorry" she stutters out "I wasn't watching where I was going. My bad"

He's tall and oh... Wow, he's well-built. Maya has to will herself to tear her gaze away from his chest. This guy 100% had a fricken six-pack underneath that uniform. "It's fine..." He pauses and looks at her up and down "You look tired Doctor"

Maya laughs nervously. Oh man, this guy was hot. It's almost making her forget about the guilt. Oh wait, nope she remembered it again. "Well, I'm new and you know, these oldies like pushing their work onto the newbies," She says with a shrug "I'm going home right now though... I haven't seen you around though"

The man is staring at her ID card pinned to her coat. "Hm.. Yeah, I am... I'll be taking the night shift from now on. 4th floor. They're just gonna be showing me around today"

Maya's eyes light up. New eye candy for the 4th floor now that Izana was leaving? Okay, maybe that makes her feel a little better. "Oh I work night shifts on the fourth floor too" she gives the man a friendly smile "I'm Doctor Kaneko Maya"

The man nods. Professional but also somewhat friendly. "Hitto Kakucho. I prefer just Kakucho"

Hitto? That was an odd last name. She doesn't think she's ever heard it before. But his odd last name slipped her mind pretty quickly due to the guilt she was feeling and the unholy thoughts about Kakucho that were going through her head. Oh man, he's hot and these contrasting feelings are making her head hurt. "I'll be seeing you on Monday then Doctor" Kakucho says "Get home safe"

Maya nods and Kakucho brushes past her. The locker room is once again engulfed in silence and now all that's left is Maya's guilt. She sighs and texts Chifuyu to ask him to pick her up. 

Maya sits outside in the reception area waiting for Chifuyu to come get her. She usually drives herself but last night Chifuyu insisted on driving her last night. Maya stares at the white tiled floor, sighing for the nth time. She felt like actual shit. The guilt is making her sick. Izana had been given that damn sedative for 2 months. Sometimes she'd administer it to him too. For what? For some messed up reason, she's still yet to find out. Maya feels guilty and gross and just horrible. She wants to cry. She hates this. None of this was fair. Why did it have to be her patient? Had she really just got herself caught up in something stupid all for the sake of money? Shit shit shit Maya really hated herself right now. "fuck~" she whines to herself and leans forward till her forehead touches her knees while she sits in the chair 

She feels like a stupid idiot. She should have just asked Izana what he was here for on the first day instead of trying to be nice and let him open up on his own. Now look where being nice got her. Maya flinches as her phone vibrates. She gets up and grabs her bag off the floor. It was probably Chifuyu. She bids goodbye to the man at the reception and leaves the building at the sight of a black car outside. Except it's not Chifuyu leaning against the car, it's Naoto. Her cheeks flush. Of-fucking-course Chifuyu was trying to play matchmaker. Right now wasn't a good time with how sick she felt. "hey" Naoto says with a small smile

He looks shy and had it not been for her guilt, Maya knows she'd probably be feeling the same way. "H-Hey, did Chifuyu send you?" Maya asks nervously "I'm so sorry"

Naoto shakes his head and opens the passenger seat of his car. "Oh no don't worry. Was on a break anyway. Chifuyu said he was busy and told me to come" 

Maya slides into the passenger seat and after making sure she's sitting comfortably he closes the door. Maya puts her bag on the floor of the car and puts on her seat belt. Naoto gets into the driver's side and starts the car. "I thought you had the night shift, what are you doing here so late?" He asks putting on his seatbelt

"They had a shortage... I'll be getting paid for overtime though so it's fine" Maya says trying to ignore the shitty feeling of guilt that just isn't going away

Oh man, she needed a drink. "You look exhausted. Should get some sleep when I drop you home" Naoto tells her as he pulls out of the parking lot and then out of the front gate of the hospital

"Yeah, I will.... gonna shower and just sleep and..." She pauses and thinks for a moment as they make it onto the main road "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did" Naoto points out with a small laugh and Maya can't help but laugh as well. "I'm kidding, ask away"

She thinks for a moment and tries her best to word her question. Perhaps getting an outside opinion would make her feel better. "You're a police officer, right? H-Has there ever been a time where you had to choose between your job or..." she pauses "Livelihood is a better word... Um... Has there ever been a time when you had to choose between your livelihood and your morals?"

Naoto looks surprised by her question. He keeps his eyes on the road as he answers. "W-well yeah... Have to all the time. Just last month I got called out on duty to arrest a woman for murder..." Naoto recalls then frowns "I asked her why she did it during interrogation she told me it was because the man raped her"

"Oh" Maya mumbles quietly

"You don't understand how badly I wanted to let her go. Murder is wrong but those cases... In those rare cases, even wrong can be right"

Maya takes in the information. She tries to apply it to her situation, to find just where the director was coming from but she couldn't. Kurokawa Izana didn't deserve that treatment. "But I have to say, Maya, if this is about work our situations are different... In other departments, things can be covered up by saying it was a fraud scam or corruption... In the medical department, however," He lowers his tone to "It's negligence of life... murder"

Maya's heart pounds. He was right. She didn't think of that. "Yeah... you're right" she mumbles

A silence washes over the car for a moment till Naoto speaks up again. "If there is something wrong at work, I can help you out" 

It was a nice offer but what was she supposed to say? Where was she supposed to start? Maya feels stupid because she knows she can just tell Naoto but she can't get herself to. She feels stupid and guilty and the feeling doesn't cease even as Naoto drops her off at her place. Maya's shoulder slouch as she unlocks her door. She hates this so much. A shudder passes through her suddenly at the feeling of being watched. Maya looks around for a moment and sees no one. She shakes her head and brushes it off as stress and goes into her home, locking the door behind her.

From the other side of the street, Kisaki Tetta blows out a cloud of smoke and scoffs.

notes: I do NOT condone any of the acts committed in this fic. Next chapter is gonna be my first time ever writing smut so plz, if it's bad I'm sorry 😭

I would also like to point out that I am a criminology major and don’t know much about the medical field, especially psychiatry. Everything written in this fic is not supposed to be accurate but just for the plot.

This is a double update so next chapter is already up. I have also added chapter summaries to the masterlist so go take a look!

I hope you enjoyed reading so far :)

updates are every monday

taglist: @kokonoiscoconut @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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Hell yeah - 111 or 1k, whatever comes first:

---

“I mean, the tattoo isn’t the only thing that makes no sense.”

“What do you mean, Buck?” Eddie asks sternly. Like a parent who’s discovered their child sneaking in late at night. Ask Buck how he knows that tone. 

“Um, ever since yesterday morning… In the hospital… I’ve been seeing things about people.”

“Seeing things about people?” Eddie repeats. “What does that mean?”

Buck explains it to him. The strange glow to everyone he sees. The different colors. The way most of them felt neutral or even good, but then Tommy and his neighbor had made him feel uncomfortable. Eddie, sitting on the edge of Buck’s bed, watches the whole time with wide, concerned eyes.

“What do you think?” Buck asks when he’s done explaining. 

“I think you may need to see a psychiatrist,” Eddie says.

“Right. Fair.”

“I think I might need a psychiatrist for believing you,” Eddie adds.

“Also valid.”

“But then… I don’t think we could be having some sort of collective delusion about that tattoo, so… It’s gotta be real?”

“Some lorazepam may not hurt anyway,” Buck grumbles.

“There is that,” Eddie agrees. 

“What do I do, Eddie?” Buck asks. He feels helpless. “I can’t go back to the ER with these… Symptoms.�� 

Eddie looks at the tattoo. “It doesn’t even look new.”

Buck examines it. It certainly does not have the fresh wound look or feel of a new tattoo. In fact, it already looks a few weeks old. He pokes it. It’s smooth and healed. 

“No one would believe you if you tried to explain it,” Eddie whispers. 

Buck knows that he’s right. Even with Eddie to back him up. He sounds insane. And the tattoo only proved anything to Eddie because he watched it happen.

“Which brings me back to what do I do, Eddie?” Buck asks again. 

Eddie sighs. Runs a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Uh… This might not be the most healthy answer, but…”

“But?” Buck repeats. 

“Maybe we keep it between us for the time being,” Eddie says. “Just, uh… Until we know what’s going on.”

Buck nods. “I think that’s smart. I… I don’t want anyone to think I’m unstable.”

“Right,” Eddie nods. “Because I don’t think you actually are.” 

Buck shakes his head. “I promise, Eddie. I’m not crazy.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I know. I… I’ve seen you out of it before, and this isn’t that.”

Buck raises an eyebrow. Literally when? 

“We’ll figure this out,” Eddie says.

“We will?” Buck asks. 

“Well… I’m gonna try to help,” Eddie says. “In whatever way I can. Don’t know what good I’ll be.”

“Better than figuring it out by myself,” Buck mutters. 

Eddie swallows. “I guess, uh… Based on the aura thing, you’re not going to want to tell Tommy?”

“Fuck, no,” Buck confirms. “At least, uh, not until I know what it means.”

Eddie nods. “That makes sense.”

Buck has a feeling it doesn’t mean anything good. And that’s why he can’t tell Tommy yet.

“Uh…” Eddie continues. “Why do you think mine is blue?”

Buck sighs. “I don’t know, Eddie. If it helps, it’s a really nice blue.”

“Nice?” Eddie asks.

Buck looks at him. At the blue radiating out in the space around his head. Nice is too simple a word, really. The blue is like… Cool water in your mouth after a long, hot day. Falling into a crisp, refreshing lake. A sky without clouds.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. “Nice. Relaxing.”

Eddie huffs a little. “Well, that’s good.”

“It is,” Buck nods. “I don’t understand this at all, but I know that much.”

Eddie looks at him for a moment. “Okay, then.” 

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hi Dani,

It's me the asexual anon from a while back. I am so excited about your book. It's gojng to be great, all who've read your work know it.

I'm writing to say that I figured out I'm ace but not aro. Anyways, my parents have fixed my wedding. Yeah, they did ask my opinion after the whole shebang about society, being a woman, my age, that I shouldn't compare myself to the lifestyle my sister has, and the fact that I am currently in between jobs. Basically it wasn't a willing yes.

I can't tell them that I'm an Ace because the concept is beyond their understanding and their conclusions will be that I'm one of the people with whom something is wrong or it's the effect of westernization. Take your pick. It's a can of worms just waiting to devour me.

And everytime I don't act excited about the wedding or that I don't want to constantly talk with my future husband the victim blaming starts from my father and my mother pointing out that my father's sisters and their families just want her daughters' lives to be less than perfect so, I've got to do this. It's a constant stream of but we went to Goa for vacation, you're getting driving and swimming lessons what more do you want and if I say that I don't want to marry ever the whole drama starts again. It's an endless cycle.

We went to a psychiatrist to figure out if there could be something done about me, and she asked me if I'm into women or was sexually harassed when I was young but I can't tell her truth too or she'll tell my parents who'll raise hell over the news.

When I told them that I don't ever want to marry and I'm unsure about children they just seem convinced that I'm wary after all they know better they're my parents.

And now there's been some issue at my mother's workplace so she's home too for some time which basically means I've got no solitude and it's driving me crazy. If I even tell her I want to go out (since they always wnt to know where we are and apparently I'm a huge risk since my refusal) out a bookstore she keeps telling me what am I going to do with so many books? It's inconceivable to them that I feel calm when I'm surrounded by books.

I know I seem like a coward but at this point there is nothing I can do other than scouring for jobs hoping I'll get one good enough to escape this madness before the hangman's noose tightnes around my neck.

Sorry for unloading on you but the only quote I can relate now is 'My tongue will tell the anger of my heart Or else my heart concealing it will break.' By Katherine, The Taming of the Shrew

Thank you

P. S. I read Ace by Angela Chen and I think everyone regardless of their sexuality should read it.

Hello my love,

First things first, you don't HAVE to do anything (and yes, I say this while being aware of the lack of choice women and girls have many women have in their personal lives).

The questions the psychiatrist asked you were ABSOLUTELY unethical and unprofessional. Regardless of whether it's true for a client or not, asking someone if they are gay or have been abused a child just because someone wants to marry is such an ignorant take. It shows what she knows 🙄. Please do not take ANYTHING this person said into account or base any decisions on it.

I hope you won't be offended by this or that you will see this as someone else telling you what to do - but you DON'T have to get married. Not to appease your parents. Or anyone. You can tell them you don't have to and you don't have to give them a reason other than 'I don't want to'. Your sexuality is your concern and yours alone.

I hope you are in a place where you can tell them you don't want to get married or at least temporarily postpone it until you have more options to escape this. I really hope you get the job you're looking for.

Also, please keep reading! Casually quoting Shakespeare is an incredibly cool talent to have.

I am here if you want to talk more or need support. Sending you a lot of strength.

And thanks so much for the book rec 💙

[cursedzucchini]

Dc x DP prompt #9 ♪

Lmao i just remembered i wrote snippets of this jazz is psychiatrist in Arkham in au, and Danny just doesn't give a fuck thing. And so y'know why not post them w some new stuff right?

I'm gonna post them as i wrote them, which is not chronologically, so yea

These prompts will have have this ♪ next to them bc I'm extra like that.

Aight now to the prompt!!

--

"My favorite doctor! how are you doing today Ms Fenton? and is that your brother? That is—"

"Yeah, yeah, shut it, Walmart beatle juice, we get it, you're" the boy sighed, exhaustion obvious on his face as he made quote signs with his fingers "'crazy'. Get over yourself, you're not that special"

The woman, standing next to the teenager, lightly hit his head "Danny!" she reprimanded lightly. Tim guessed this was probably common occurrence for her, but damn, he did not plan on witnessing watching a child sass the Joker and live to tell the tale.

And what was even more surprising, the green haired menace actually looked like he took offense in the supposedly Danny's words “Well aren't you a rude one. If you have to know that character wears very different clothes and is dead. I on the hand-” he dramatically gestured, but was promptly interrupted by the boy. Again.

“Well I'm not so sure about the second part” he grinned at the clown, his weirdly sharp teeth showing. His hand was about to reach his pocket (and holy fuck was that a gun???) before Dr Fenton glared at him and he stiffened. As if realizing they weren't the only one in the room his eyes shifted to Tim, before looking back to Joker “I mean, because you look ugly as fuck. No one alive should be this hard to look at” the teen flipped the older man off, before waving at the doctor and stepping outside the cell.

Doctor Fenton sighed again, looking for a moment at the door where Danny disappeared before turning towards Tim "I apologize for him, he's just going through a difficult phase" she smiled at him as if saying 'younger brothers you know'.

And in fact, Tim did the fuck not know, because in which phase do you make fun of a psychopath who continuously breaks out of Arkham and kills for less.

--

Joker sitting at his bed when his new therapist apologizes to the vigilante and not him the victim of his brother: h-

Jazz, w nice smile and her hand on the handle of her taser which could and probably did kill a bitch: shut the fuck up (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

-

Tim after he manages to get out of his shock, at his fam: i think Jason got cloned

-

Jazz later: Danny u can't just bully my patients just because of your misplaced anger, and big fear of clowns

Danny: watch me >:))

-

Rr: can you even.... Bring him here? Like he's obviously a teen, he shouldn't be meeting w these dangerous criminals...

Jazz: well when tried to stop him, he just stared at them, until they let him

Danny, who let a little bit of his eldritch abomination leak out: yea

[wokedogschenkopf]

Warning: generalization of a website and social forum that has millions of users with differing thoughts and opinions as well as vastly different communities

Reddit has a reputation for being a helpful website when you have a question that google refuses to properly answer because of bloated search results that are filled with gibberish and filler, but I cannot stress how much you should never actually look to Reddit for advice outside of like tech tips. Because the people on there are some of the most insane people I have ever seen, despite their reputation for being the “normie” website, they’re all out of their minds in the “the more normal the more weird you are” way.

I was going through a really rough patch in my life, feeling completely lost and aimless and even though I had appointments set up with a physician and a psychiatrist and a therapist and all that, I still had to wait for those appointments to come and the wait itself was driving me crazy. So I decided to go on Reddit just to see if anyone had any problems similar to mine and what they did (mistake number 1). What you quickly find out is that people who are actually happy and have solved their problems are not posting advice on Reddit. What you also find out is that they have gaslit themselves into thinking that they have achieved happiness and peace by acting like no real human being does.

Example 1: Trying to stave off depression. I was still in denial that I was experiencing clinical depression that would not be cured by exercise and vitamins that needed medical intervention, despite knowing deep down that’s what it was, and so I would end up on subreddits like r/productivity because my goal was “how do I enjoy things again/How do I force myself to do things.” The most common answer people gave out for finding purpose in a boring and lonely life is hobbies. Which on its own, ignoring any and all other possible disclaimers and caveats, is fairly true, anyone without hobbies is probably bound to end up feeling at least a bit aimless. But then comes the question: what hobbies should I have? What should I do? And this is where people started to unravel a bit. Because then that’s when people start categorizing “acceptable” hobbies vs “wasteful” hobbies, acceptable hobbies being ones that they see as maximizing all your possible stats and performance and wasteful hobbies being ones that contribute nothing and are just time sinks. To no one’s surprise, “acceptable” hobbies were basically all sports or physical exercise, sometimes maybe something like gardening, while wasteful hobbies where watching movies or tv shows, playing video games, reading books (unless you were reading epic sigma grind set books that are all named something like Unfuck Yourself), drawing, etc. I do physical activities like hiking and walking and what not because I know it’s good for me in the long run, and I do like looking at nature, but I wouldn’t consider it my hobby. And to sideline my actual hobbies (video games, drawing, etc) for hiking all the time I would probably be miserable. But according to the Reddit secret anti depression formula this is what I should be doing.

Which leads to Point 2: Diet. Obviously diet comes up a lot in these discussions, it undeniably can have an affect on your mood and emotional aspects as much as it can have an effect on your physical body. The problem is that all of these people have basically given themselves eating disorders trying to minmax the perfect diet to make them Mentally Sound. I’m sure I don’t really need to write it out in detail and you can imagine the kind of things they write about how if you enjoy any sugar ever you’re a dopamine addict and you’re ruining your life.

Then point 3: Mental wellness journaling/meditation. Where a lot of these people swear by the fact that journaling and meditation saved them. I’m not going to argue that they’re useless, I journal sometimes and it can help, but then you read in between the lines and find out these people spend hours of their day meditating or journaling and don’t seem to actually make any progress. As if just the act of doing it has convinced them that they’re doing the “correct” thing and they don’t need to do anything else, and that they can afford to spend half their day doing this. Which if you can and genuinely want to, be my guest, but personally the thought of having to sit in silence with myself for hours just to get through the day is not something I want for my life. At all. And would probably make me more miserable.

Which leads me to the final point of all this. Combining the obsession over the correct hobbies that fulfill you with the most enlightenment, the perfect diet that will give you the perfect body and brain, and over obsession with proper mental wellness loops back around and creates uniquely miserable people who are so obsessed with finding the life hack or formula to happiness and success that they just end up dragging themselves back down. I realized multiple times that it would probably just be easier and make me happier to eat candy sometimes than stress about how any amount of excess sugar could give me depression, and that I would be less stressed just sitting down to watch TV sometimes than worrying about how I could spend that time maximizing my time and happiness by picking the best and most productive hobby. Sure eating nothing but sugar all day and never watching anything other than reality TV is bad for you, but so is everything in excess. It kind of defeats the point of living if you don’t let yourself enjoy anything because of made up metrics. Also, every person is completely different and unique and nothing that makes one person happy will make the other person happy. There are baselines sure, like seeing the sun is good for you, but you can never truly pinpoint every single trick and hack to leading a fulfilling life because it depends on who you are. This is also why it’s impossible to cover every possible disclaimer and caveat in this post, because I would have to account for the unique circumstances of billions of people.

I don’t really know how to end this post so I’ll bring up how I saw someone on a quitting weed subreddit say you should do ketamine instead of weed and that’s healthier for you. Remember that people love lying online. Also a subreddit I found about how the internet regardless of what website or use is innately evil and causes mental health problems in everyone no matter what and so everyone should be quitting it, despite the fact that everyone on there was posting from the internet on a website.

[disillusioneddanny]

Eloped in Space Part 6

Read part 5 here 

The days after Danny had moved into the manor had been strange to say the least. Dick couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the man who had become like a father to him had turned into some love drunk dork. 

They were still slightly in their puppy love stage but Danny had managed to keep Bruce’s hands off of him long enough for Danny to decide that he was going to bond with each one of Bruce’s kids. He had apparently decided that the first one to do this was with Dick. Danny and Bruce had been back on Earth for about a month now as Danny settled into living in the manor and getting used to how everything ran. According to Damian, Duke, and Tim it was an interesting adjustment but they all seemed to enjoy having the man there.

“So,” Danny said, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. They were currently at some random diner in Bludhaven, Danny insisting that he could come to Dick to see him. Something about making a point to make an effort in this familial relationship. He rested his elbows on the table and stared at Dick with those blue eyes that looked as though they had seen their fair share of trauma in the world and refused to let it get him down. “Tell me about your relationship with Bruce. Is he good to you? He’s not shitty or anything? You get plenty of love and affection from him?”

“Uh…no?” Dick said slowly, furrowing his brows. “Bruce is the most emotionally constipated person I know. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever seen him act like that with anyone before.”

Danny made a face and nodded. “I see. Well, just so you know, Bruce will be starting therapy next week. He will be going three times a week until his therapist decides he can go less. He’s also going to be starting some medicine to help with his depression,” Danny said with a small smile, tiredness shone in his eyes. 

“H-how did you get him to agree to that?” Dick asked, eyes wide in shock. Bruce? In therapy? What the actual fuck? What had Danny done to the man?

The Ghost King simply shrugged his shoulders. “My sister was a psychiatrist and took mental health very seriously. I myself see a therapist twice a month. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about all of the craziness that can happen in the world and in our existences. I told Bruce that if he wanted this relationship between the two of us to work he would need to be in some form of therapy. Then last week he met my sister and Jazz basically made him agree to meeting with her three times a week.”

“Wait, your sister? I thought you were like some immortal being, I didn’t realize you had a living family?” Dick asked, looking at the man who had declared himself his stepfather in confusion.

Danny grinned. “Yeah, Jazz died like two hundred years ago or something like that. She’s a ghost in my realm. Our parents both moved on, as did my friends that I grew up with. But Jazz decided that she had to be a pain in my life for eternity. Like I said, when she was alive she was a psychiatrist. And she’s insisting that she works with Bruce to make sure she’s okay.”

“Isn’t it like a breach of trust or something since she’s your sister?” Dick questioned, taking a sip of his soda. 

At this his stepfather’s face fell in annoyance. “Trust me, Jazz is a pain in the ass. She would never break Bruce’s trust and if anything she’ll just tell him anything he wants to know about my childhood or something. But, he’s going to be getting therapy and Jazz is going to start working on that emotional constipation ASAP.”

Dick smiled at the man. “Danny, you’re an amazing step dad. I can’t believe you got Bruce into therapy. Alfred has been trying to convince him since the guy was eight and nothing worked.”

Danny gave him a rueful smile and took a bite of his burger. “I love Bruce a lot, Dick. I’m going to make sure he’s taken care of, whether he likes it or not. I have been around for a very long time, Bruce is the first person I’ve ever loved like this. And because of that, I’m going to make sure he’s okay and isn’t hurting. Under that emotional constipation is a man who loves his family more than anything in this world. The entire time we were on that mission together, all he could talk about was how proud of you guys he was and how much he loved you all. It was very sweet.”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get past it?” Dick asked, looking at the man like he was his own personal hero. At this point he pretty much was. 

Danny just gave him a secretive smile, eyes shining. “I have my ways to get under people’s skin. I can also read people pretty well and knew just which buttons to push. It also didn’t help that from the moment I met Bruce he just looked at me like he either wanted to fuck me or whisk me away to protect me forever. He also had this look like he wanted to learn all of my secrets which was pretty fun. But we just got to know each other on that mission and the more I opened up about my life and after life the more he was willing to do the same.”

Dick took a bite of his own burger and smiled as he mulled over it. If Danny was able to successfully get Bruce in therapy to work on his problems and get the man to open up more, Dick would probably lose his ever loving mind. He couldn’t believe the changes he was seeing in Bruce but he was excited to see how it would go. 

“I think you’re going to be really good for him, Danny,” Dick said with a small smile. 

Danny beamed at him. “I think he’s going to be really good for me too,” he said quietly.

Read part seven here

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[chronicillnessfromateensmind]

i don’t know how to describe what the past few weeks of my life have been like. i don’t know if it’s physically possible to put into words just how much i’ve been dealing with.

i’ve been in a terrible flare since the weekend before my birthday. and i feel betrayed.

i feel betrayed by the american medical system, by the lack of compassion i’ve witnessed first hand. and while i’m no stranger to the judgment and gaslighting that’s in the medical community, seeing as i fought for two years for my pain and voice to be taken seriously before i got my amps diagnosis. i fought and fought, went to doctor after doctor, pleaded and begged, and only until something horrific happened to me did they take what i had to say seriously. and i don’t know if it’s the humanity in me or the hope that resides deep inside of me that thought this time would be different, that the doctors would take me seriously, that they would put in the effort or at least give me options on where to go or what to do to help me. but once again i was proven wrong.

i feel betrayed because i know that i can’t live a healthy lifestyle right now, i physically can’t do the things people my age can. and it’s frustrating and devastating because i know somethings not right with me, and i’m pretty sure i know what it is just through my own personal research and communities i’ve found during all of this, but everytime i go to my primary doctor she writes me off. in fact i was in such severe pain i screamed my head off the night prior, was convinced one of my collar bones had gone out of place, and was terrified. but when i showed up the the pediatrician she didn’t even look me in my eye, gave me the fastest work up ever before dismissing my concerns, and telling me and my mom that i should visit a pain clinic place that is a deep rooted sense of trauma for me. for they prescribed me so many medications that messed with my head and gave me horrific side effects. she also told my mom i should see a psychiatrist. basically saying idk what the deal with you is you’re probably just crazy.

the problems i’m dealing with, subluxations, joint pain, rashes, welts on my skin, gi issues, and a lot more i don’t feel the energy to share right now, aren’t symptoms a psychiatrist can help. i’m not crazy. i’m not insane. i’m not making this up. you can watch my collar bone move back into place after it subluxated. you can see the welt on my skin appear after i rub it. you can see the blood pooling happening in my feet and hands everytime i sit down or stand up. i’m exhausted and while my flare is calming down, i’m drained. and it’s disappointing that no doctor cares.

following the visits with my pediatrician, i was in such pain from the car ride and the movement that i was in hysterics that night. the pain in my collar bones and shoulder and neck were unbearable. it felt like my spine wasn’t being held properly together, it felt unstable, if felt terrible. i almost collapsed in the kitchen as i was in so much pain as i screamed and begged for any kind of relief. the next morning we went to the emergency room just to make sure everything was in the right place. and thankfully it was, but the er wasn’t really helpful other than that. they gave me some meds that made me sleepy and that helped distract my mind from the pain, but that was it.

we also reached out again to the cardiologist that’s been helping me with pots. and while the medication he gave me has extremely helped significantly lessen my pots symptoms, he was no help either. in fact we called multiple times over the course of multiple days and received no reply. only to find out, he was planning on sending me to that same pain clinic that i still am severely traumatized by. even though we specifically have mentioned that we cannot go back to that place.

me and my family have been left alone to figure out how to deal with the daily struggles i have experienced without any medical help. we got a shower stool so i don’t faint in the shower, we got a cane so on my rough days when my hips pop in and out i can still somewhat walk around, heating pads and pain patches to try to relieve the pain the best we can, tylenol and advil around the clock.

my body and mind are exhausted from being in a constant state of fight or flight from the pain. this flare was extremely rough. but i survived.

when you’re in so much pain that your body goes into a state of shock, you can only focus on pain. all you can feel is pain, all you can sense is pain, all you can breath is pain. it feels like you’re trapped in an eternal loop of never ending pain. the days seem longer, the hours seem to go on forever, the minutes feel like months. it’s almost impossible for your mind to comprehend that the pain will lessen at some point eventually. this time, it took over 3 weeks for it to lessen. but it did. and i survived.

i’m not alone in the betrayal of the medical community ignorance. my family has been betrayed as they are forced to witness me deal with all of these issues and receive no useful information or help. thousands of others with the same disorders and conditions i have, have been treated exactly as i have. i know this. i know not to get my expectations up when i see someone ina white coat. but i just wish one doctor could care a little about me. because all they see is the chart. they see my medical history, my files. but they don’t see me.

they don’t see how creative i am. they don’t see how compassionate i am. they don’t see how unique and intelligent i am. they don’t see my artwork. they don’t see my stories. they don’t see my voice. they don’t see me.

i wish they would though. because my symptoms and my pain has been limiting my ability to do the things i love. it’s pulled me out of school, which i love. it’s limited my writing abilities, which is my passion. it’s limited my ability to shop, which is my favorite thing to do.

even though i’m dealing with way more than most 17 year olds are, i know one day i’ll be able to say wow i did that. and i got through it. my story is chaotic and unpredictable to say the least. but it’s not over, i won’t let these disorders write my story for me. i will. this chapter is just darker than others will be.

if you take anything from me, don’t write off a person because they look “healthy”. or what society has painted the idea of what healthy on the outside looks like anyways. you never know what someone is dealing with. your words matter. they hold power. they can heal, but they can also damage. please be compassionate to one another.

[je-brille-dans-la-nuit]

Watching TOS: Jim Kirk's Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Week

Can't a guy catch a break?

The city on the edge of forever - YEESS

Love a time travel with an ethics dilemma intertwined in a personal one!!!

Jim manipulating Spock in the most blatant way possible, basically saying "Excuse me. I sometimes expect too much of you." like come on! and Spock still taking the bait

The clothes, the living together, Spock building his diy computer and being bitchy about it all the while

The music everytime Jim talks with Edith is SO MUCH

The ending is very fucking horrible, oh Jim 😭😭😭

This episode delivers!

GUARDIAN: As correct as possible for you. Your science knowledge is obviously primitive. SPOCK: Really. KIRK: Annoyed, Spock?

I'm snickering

You? At his side like you've always been and always will be

Gifted insight indeed!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my heart

Captain. Even when he doesn't say it, he does.

I'm WEAK

KIRK: Spock, I believe I'm in love with Edith Keeler. SPOCK: Jim, Edith Keeler must die.

Why is he so dramatic over a woman he met a week ago i can'ttttt + everytime Spock calls him Jim it's something awful 😭

Side note: in the episode McCoy says he's "a surgeon, not a psychiatrist". But in Court Martial he's said to be "an expert in space psychology". I realize psychiatry =/= psychology, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

.

Operation - Annihilate!

I liked the episode but the ending left me very frustrated.

Look, when you decide to kill part of your main character's family, you're saying the stakes are HIGH in this episode. And for the most part, we see just that.

Shatner and Nimoy's acting is very very good I love it

I love Jim like that, I can totally buy the limited show of emotion at his brother and sister-in-law's death bc that's his thing, we've seen him do it: he stays focused, he's all tense but still efficient, in control. Even when Bones has to remind him,

KIRK: Help them. I don't care what it takes or costs. You've got to help them. MCCOY: Jim, aren't you forgetting something? There are over a million colonists on that planet down there, just as much your responsibility. They need your help, too.

That was good! That was high stakes both for Jim and his mission as captain!

Spock being attacked and in danger of dying adding to the urgency of the situation, yeah, that's great

Looove Spock in this, "Pain is a thing of the mind" and all that!!

"I am a Vulcan, I am a Vulcan. there is no pain." OH SPOCK

"I need you Spock, but we can't take any chances." Oh Jim

MCCOY: Captain, I understand your concern. Your affection for Spock, the fact that your nephew is the last survivor of your brother's family. KIRK: No, no, Bones. There's more than two lives at stake here. I cannot let it spread beyond this colony, even if it means destroying a million people down there.

The way Jim, Spock and Bones look at one another when Spock decides to sacrifice himself (well Jim had decided to sacrifice him anw) - when he gets out and Jim grabs him -

SOMEONE HUG JIM FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

And then... Jim ready to SNAP it was so dramatic and funny when he goes BoOones

Now to the thing I liked the least:

In the last minutes, Jim is so relieved to have Spock back, the banter is fun but... No word of his nephew?? I suppose he's healed but why is there 0 talk or emotional scene about it? Why is the emotion only about Spock?

Why did they choose to end this episode in such a light-hearted way? There's no emotional pay-off to Jim's family being decimated! It is driving me crazy!! You'd think it was a pretty important plot point!!