#Healthcare without Harm

[edouardstenger]

Millions of healthcare professionals now call for the end of fossil fuels

The global healthcare sector is starting to pull its weight on the fight against climate change. Both the first Health Day at COP28 and an open letter are proof of that.

Ahead of this year’s UN Conference on climate – COP28, which will take place this year in Dubai, no less – official bodies and organizations representing 46 million healthcare professionals around the world have published an open letter calling for “an accelerated, just and equitable phase-out of fossil fuels “. Very well thought, this resumes all the issues and everything that is at stakes. If…

[ohello0]

Someone on the radio just talked about the growing industry of ppl capitalizing off of our neglectful and collapsing healthcare system and told ppl to “get their hustle up” by starting up a POSTPARTUM DOULA RETREAT BUSINESS???

[irrevocablecondition]

i have nothing to say that hasn't already been said in regards to the Uk Supreme Court hearing, nor do i have the mental capacity right now, so you get rhis long draft from february for now instead:

there is no feminism without trans rights. there is no feminism if you are pointing towards trans women and assessing whether they are "womanly enough". there is no feminism if you are pointing towards trans women and saying they can't get periods. "they can't birth a child, how are they women!?". there is no feminism if you turn around to trans men and ask if they've considered their future fertility. if you reduce their worth and their livelihood to their ability to bear a child. there is no feminism if you come after hrt because you can say it's trans healthcare all you want... until they come for your hrt. for your birth control, for your plan b, for your viagra, for YOUR hrt. there is no feminism if you insist on restricting trans healthcare. "no no, they need more time to think about it!" anyway, i'll wait 6 months for a doctors appointment only to be told i must be due on. have you considered it's anxiety??? there is no feminism if you insist on verifying people's sex. hi, hello, sorry! mandatory genital check! yes, we have security stationed outside the women's restrooms! don't worry about it, i'm sure that viral video of a cis woman being hounded by cis men pretending to be security guards is fake, it mustttt be a trans thing. yeah. no, it isn't bad that this trans person got misgendered and hatecrimed and assaulted. look at them, they aren't even trying. if they wanted to not be attacked, they would've worn the right thing. it's what they were wearing, right?

there is no feminism when the arguments against trans people are just misogyny repacked

what makes a woman a woman? no no, wait. you're 18! have you thought about your reproductive future? what if you change your mind and want kids ohhh you're gonna regret that. yes yes, these puberty blockers that both cis and trans people on? those are harmful because we shouldn't be messing with children's hormones but we're only going to ban them for trans people. yeah, i'm sure they work differently for cis kids! don't worry about it, the blockers know when a person is trans and then it starts attacking their body because that is absolutely how science works!

if jkr was a feminist she would talk about women's rights without a trans person coming into the equation.

she would talk about the fact that violence against women has been declared a national emergency in the uk, and she wouldn't follow it up with trans bathroom debates. that 70k donation to stop trans women being legally recognised as women? maybe that could have been spent elsewhere in the legal system. perhaps in ensuring that rapists and abusers actually get convicted of their crimes and that the 1 in 2 women who are victims of this do not shake their head with an empty sigh when they're asked if they would like to press charges. she wouldn't have come online with 14m followers and debated the validity of imane khelif's success, wouldn't have argued that a woman of colour was trans because she don't fit her western ideals of what a woman should look like, because feminism isn't feminism if it isn't intersectional. she wouldn't have handed johnny fucking depp millions upon millions. she wouldn't have given marilyn manson fucking flowers. if jkr were a feminist she would have spoken up about farage and his proposed restrictions to abortion. reform are leading the uk polls right now, this is becoming more of a threat but no no, silence.

if jkr was a feminist, she wouldn't be Supporting Donald Trump. she wouldn't be publicly praising him for his work against transgender athletes in america when he has over double the amount of sexual assault "allegations" than there even ARE trans athletes at college level in america.

there is no feminism without trans rights, and you need to take the wool off of your eyes if you think that you as a cis woman are safe from this. because you're not.

when we start bringing arguments about reproductive capabilities back? when we start arguing about how much "effort" a woman puts in, how much makeup she wears. when we start reducing womanhood back down to aesthetics and reproductive value?

you aren't safe.

and if you aren't standing with trans people right now, if you aren't standing for intersectionality right now?

then you aren't a feminist either.

[fatliberation]

Anti-Obesity Drugs in Sociopolitical Context

Abstract

This literature review critically examines the use of Body Mass Index (BMI) as a diagnostic tool for obesity, highlighting its historical and scientific flaws. The diagnosis and treatment of obesity is heavily stigmatized and reflects deeper socio-economic and racial biases. Fatphobia, or anti-fatness, is deeply rooted in white supremacy and colonial history. I argue that anti-fatness and weight-based discrimination significantly impact health outcomes, rather than body fat percentage alone. The way that the medical system focuses on body size rather than the overall health of patients perpetuates harm and yields even poorer health outcomes. To genuinely improve the lives of fat individuals, we must dismantle anti-fat systems and remove barriers to healthcare, job equity, and basic infrastructure by implementing legal protections, rather than simply promoting weight loss. This review emphasizes the need for a holistic approach to health that considers socio-economic factors and systemic discrimination.

Journal Summary

Recently, two anti-obesity medications, Ozempic and Wegovy, which are primarily prescribed for type 2 diabetes mellitus (T2DM), have shown promise in causing weight loss. The 2022 scientific journal “Ozempic and Wegovy for Weight Loss, Pharmacological Component and Effect” by Abdullah Mohammed, et al explores the pharmacological components and effects of these medications on weight reduction, summarizing findings from existing clinical studies.

Ozempic is a glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agonist primarily used to manage T2DM. Clinical studies indicate that semaglutide can also promote significant weight loss. Ozempic's mechanism involves binding to GLP-1 receptors in the brain, reducing food intake and increasing feelings of fullness. This leads to a decrease in body weight and improvement in glycemic control. Wegovy, also a GLP-1 receptor agonist, is the same drug as Ozempic but two times the dose, specifically approved for weight loss for fat people even without T2DM. Administered as a weekly injection, Wegovy has shown effectiveness in inducing sustained weight loss. The STEP trials demonstrated that participants using Wegovy experienced an average weight loss of 15.8% over 68 weeks. Wegovy's pharmacokinetics involve prolonged activation of GLP-1 receptors, enhancing satiety and reducing hunger. GLP-1 receptor agonists like semaglutide mimic the action of the natural hormone GLP-1, which regulates appetite and blood sugar levels. By slowing gastric emptying and promoting a feeling of fullness, these medications reduce caloric intake. Clinical trials have shown that GLP-1RAs, including semaglutide, can result in weight loss from 5% or up to 10-15% of body weight. However, sustained weight loss requires ongoing lifestyle modifications, as discontinuation of the medication leads to weight regain. Common side effects of GLP-1 receptor agonists include gastrointestinal issues such as nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and constipation. Other potential side effects include increased heart rate, fatigue, headaches, and changes in thyroid function.

Obesity as a Disease

How does one get an obesity diagnosis? There is one single criterion used for diagnosing someone with this disease: The Body Mass Index (BMI). A person’s BMI is their weight in kilograms divided by the square of their height in meters, rounded to one decimal place. It does not account for muscle mass versus body fat. For these reasons, the BMI has been widely proven to be an ineffective health measure. The BMI was also never intended to be a measure of health in the first place.

The BMI was created in the 1800s by a statistician named Adolphe Quetelet, who did not study medicine, to gather statistics of the average height and weight of specifically white, European, upper-middle-class men to assist the government in allocating resources. It was never intended as a measure of individual body fat, build, or health (Karasu, 2016). Quetelet is also credited with founding the field of anthropometry, including the racist pseudoscience of phrenology. Quetelet’s L’homme Moyen would be used as a measurement of fitness to inspire, and as a scientific justification, for eugenics (Eugenics archive).

Studies have observed that about 30% of "normal” weight people are “unhealthy," whereas about 50% of "overweight" people are “healthy” (Rey-López, et al, 2014). Thus, using the BMI as an indicator of health misclassifies 75 million people in the United States alone. “Healthy*” lifestyle habits are associated with a significant decrease in mortality regardless of baseline body mass index (Matheson, et al, 2012).

*I put “healthy” in quotation marks here because the definition of an individual’s health is oversimplified and depends on many socioeconomic factors.

While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national obesity rates, the distinctions between weight classes can be arbitrary. Ever notice that the weight classes on the BMI are nearly intervals of five? In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—making roughly 29 million Americans "overweight" overnight—to match international guidelines (Butler, 2014). Critics have also noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs.

Jackie Scully, Senior Research Fellow at the Unit for Ethics in the Biosciences, University of Basel, in her scientific journal titled “What is a Disease?” states the following: “As the business literature shows, new clinical diagnoses are often welcomed primarily as opportunities for market growth (Moynihan et al, 2002). One recent example of this is female sexual dysfunction (FSD). The huge commercial success of sildenafil (Viagra) for erectile dysfunction in men provides a strong motivation for drug companies to identify an equivalent market (that is, condition) in women. And some ethicists feel that drug companies were, to put it mildly, over-involved in the medical consensus meetings held between 1997 and 1999 that effectively drew up very inclusive clinical criteria for the definition of FSD (Moynihan, 2003)."

How can one diagnose a person with a disease and sell them medications solely based upon an outdated measure that was never meant to indicate health in the first place, especially when obesity has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition? (Kahn, et. al., 2000), (Cofield, et al, 2010).

This is why the term “obese” is recognized as a slur by fat communities. It's a stigmatizing term that medicalizes fat bodies even in the absence of disease. The word directly translates to "having eaten oneself fat" in Latin. Obesity, as a medical diagnosis, doesn’t have much ground to stand on. Aside from being overtly incorrect as a medical tool, the BMI is used to deny certain medical treatments and gender-affirming care, as well as insurance coverage. Employers still often offer bonuses to workers who lower their BMI. Although science recognizes the BMI as deeply flawed, it's going to be tough to get rid of. It has been a long-standing and effective tool for the oppression of fat people and the profit of the weight loss industry.

To treat obesity, patients must eat less. Making someone smaller still means they will be healthier, right?

Fatness and Mortality

The idea that obesity is unhealthy and can cause or exacerbate illnesses is a biased misrepresentation of the scientific literature that is informed more by bigotry than credible science (Medvedyuk, et al, 2017). Fatphobia existed long before fatness became medicalized. Yes, obesity is correlated with conditions such as cardiovascular disease, hypertension, and diabetes, but some scientists are looking into possibilities that don't equate correlation with causation. Obesity has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition (Kahn, et al, 2000), (Cofield, et al, 2010) and its appearance may be a protective response to the onset of numerous chronic conditions generated from currently unknown causes (Lavie, et al, 2009), (Uretsky et al, 2007), (Mullen, et al, 2013), (Tseng, 2013). A portion of these correlated conditions are likely brought on by the stress of being part of one or more marginalized groups with little to no support or basic access in society. Weight stigma itself is deadly. Research shows that weight-based discrimination increases risk of death by 60% (Sutin, et al, 2014).

Dieting also poses serious health risks. The reason that these weight loss drugs are so successful by comparison is that dieting is unsustainable and does not lead to prolonged weight loss. Over 50 years of research conclusively demonstrates that virtually everyone who intentionally loses weight by manipulating their eating and exercise habits will regain the weight they lost within 3-5 years, and 75% will regain more weight than they lost (Mann, et al, 2007). Evidence suggests that repeatedly losing and gaining weight is linked to cardiovascular disease, stroke, diabetes, and altered immune function (Tomiyama, et al, 2017). If most fat people have historically tried to lose weight their whole lives through dieting, this has major implications on overall health. Prescribed weight loss is also the leading predictor of eating disorders (Patton, et al, 1999).

Another factor that may be impacting fat people’s rate of mortality is that they are being mistreated at the doctor’s office. I have personally heard dozens of stories about doctors refusing to treat or investigate a problem that a fat person came in for until they lost a certain amount of weight, only to discover years later that the problem was unrelated to their weight and has progressed severely because it went untreated. Fat people are often mistreated and looked at with disgust and disdain in medical settings, leading them to avoid going to the doctor in shame or fear of abuse. This can seriously worsen health issues. Fat stigma in the medical establishment (Puhl, et al, 2012) and society at large arguably (Engber, 2009) kills more fat people than fat does (Teachman, et al, 2003), (Chastain, et al, 2009), (Sutin, et al, 2015). This impact is too significant not to be taken under consideration.

Anti-Fatness as Anti-Blackness

The issue of anti-fat bias is directly rooted in white supremacy. The ideal thin body was constructed as a marker of whiteness and “purity” before any of this was ever made to be about health. Dr. Sabrina Strings has spent her career studying this history. In her book, Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia, Dr. Strings discusses how constructions of race led to the thin ideal. “Over the decades, the rise in biracial children would break down the way that slave owners saw Blackness and whiteness. To combat the hypocrisy they created, owners invented new ways to dehumanize the enslaved population. They made a calculated decision to start putting more value on white physiques versus Black ones. In her research, Strings found that Black women’s bodies were otherized even more than Black males. For colonizers who hadn’t seen diverse body types before, they quickly categorized the Black female figure as ‘deviant,’ ‘greedy,’ and ‘overtly sexual.’ The fact that we still use these terms to describe fat bodies today is all the evidence we need to understand that fatphobia is directly linked to racism, not health. This mindset was also strengthened by Protestantism. Slave owners looked for any way to prove their power over the enslaved people, and they frequently used religion as ‘proof’ of their racist superiority. Additionally, Protestant belief encouraged various ways to become closer to God, which included eating as little as possible. This would resonate the most with white women. They had as much to do with perpetuating fatphobia as their husbands. White women were desperate to show their own power against Black women on the plantation, and the difference between their bodies was the perfect rift. And so began the centuries-old belief that thinness is beautiful, and fatness is ugly” (Sassenrath, 2023).

Revisiting the Journal with Context

Thinness has been an important value throughout history in the United States. Our positive associations with thinness and negative associations with fatness have led to a collective schema that is black and white, good versus bad, beautiful versus ugly, healthy versus unhealthy, and life versus death. This has led the FDA to approve Wegovy as a weight loss drug with haste, after just sixteen months of testing. It is known that going off the drug will result in rapid weight regain, so patients are expected to be on it for the rest of their lives when there have been no long-term studies. We do not yet know if the drug will have long-term effects, yet it has been approved for kids as young as twelve (FDA, 2021). As of July 2024, Novo Nordisk has a market cap of $633.01 billion (Marketcap). 

Wegovy is prescribed along with diet and exercise, which has been proven to lead to weight regain and eating disorders. Patients are being prescribed Wegovy and Ozempic when they are fat, but otherwise metabolically healthy. If this drug is truly a game changer for public health, we should be measuring how patients' health improves over the long-term rather than how much weight they lose. For example, if these drugs improve heart health, they should be prescribed as a heart health medication for patients with heart disease, rather than prescribed as a weight loss fix based on body size alone. With the evidence we have, we know it is possible to be fat and healthy, so these drugs may be solely cosmetic in many cases.

Future

If we want to improve the lives of fat people, we will remove barriers to care, not try as hard as we can to make all fat people disappear. That will never happen. If we truly cared about the well-being of fat people and not their disappearance, we would work to dismantle the systems that oppress them and abolish anti-fatness. 

Currently, fat people have next to no legal protections for being discriminated against (NAAFA, 2023). Fat people are denied housing, (Kariss, 1977) jobs, and receive less pay and promotions legally because of their size (The Economist). They are denied access to clothing, seating, transportation, and other human rights because infrastructure has been designed to exclude them. Fat people have less likelihood of receiving a fair trial (Beely, 2013), and are denied necessary surgeries (Barrett, 2022) ––but not weight loss surgery that amputates the digestive tract. Fat people are denied gender-affirming care (Conley, 2023), in vitro fertilization and reproductive healthcare (Muir, 2024), even adopting children (Carter, 2009). Fat children have been removed from their loving parents because when their diets failed, it was seen as neglect (Badshah, 2021). Fat people have disproportionately high suicide rates (Wagner, et al, 2013), and are facing medical malpractice and mistreatment (Kolata, 2016).

Can a drug fix that?

References

Karasu, Sylvia. Adolphe Quetelet and the Evolution of Body Mass Index (BMI). Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-gravity-of-weight/201603/adolphe-quetelet-and-the-evolution-of-body-mass-index-bmi 2016, March 8.

“Quetelet, Adolphe.” Eugenics Archive, www.eugenicsarchive.ca/connections? id=5233cb0f5c2ec5000000009c. Accessed 5 July 2024.

Rey-López JP, de Rezende LF, Pastor-Valero M, Tess BH. The prevalence of metabolically healthy obesity: a systematic review and critical evaluation of the definitions used. ObesRev.2014 Oct;15(10):781-90. doi: 10.1111/obr.12198. Epub 2014 Jul 16. PMID: 25040597.

Matheson EM, King DE, Everett CJ. Healthy lifestyle habits and mortality in overweight and obese individuals. J Am Board Fam Med. 2012 Jan-Feb;25(1):9-15. doi: 10.3122/jabfm.2012.01.110164. PMID: 22218619.

Butler, Kiera. “Why BMI Is a Big Fat Scam.” Mother Jones, 25 Aug. 2014, www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/08/why-bmi-big-fat-scam/.

Kahn BB, Flier JS. Obesity and insulin resistance. J Clin Invest. 2000 Aug;106(4):473-81. doi: 10.1172/JCI10842. PMID: 10953022; PMCID: PMC380258.

Cofield SS, Corona RV, Allison DB. Use of causal language in observational studies of obesity and nutrition. Obes Facts. 2010 Dec;3(6):353-6. doi: 10.1159/000322940. Epub 2010 Dec 10. PMID: 21196788; PMCID: PMC3280017.

Medvedyuk, S., Ali, A., & Raphael, D. (2017). Ideology, obesity and the social determinants of health: a critical analysis of the obesity and health relationship. Critical Public Health, 28(5), 573–585. https://doi.org/10.1080/09581596.2017.1356910

Kahn BB, Flier JS. Obesity and insulin resistance. J Clin Invest. 2000 Aug;106(4):473-81. doi: 10.1172/JCI10842. PMID: 10953022; PMCID: PMC380258.

Lavie CJ, Milani RV, Ventura HO. Obesity and cardiovascular disease: risk factor, paradox, and impact of weight loss. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2009 May 26;53(21):1925-32. doi: 10.1016/ j.jacc.2008.12.068. PMID: 19460605.

Uretsky S, Messerli FH, Bangalore S, Champion A, Cooper-Dehoff RM, Zhou Q, Pepine CJ. Obesity paradox in patients with hypertension and coronary artery disease. Am J Med. 2007 Oct;120(10):863-70. doi: 10.1016/j.amjmed.2007.05.011. PMID: 17904457.

Mullen JT, Moorman DW, Davenport DL. The obesity paradox: body mass index and outcomes in patients undergoing nonbariatric general surgery. Ann Surg. 2009 Jul;250(1):166-72. doi: 10.1097/SLA.0b013e3181ad8935. PMID: 19561456.

Tseng CH. Obesity paradox: differential effects on cancer and noncancer mortality in patients with type 2 diabetes mellitus. Atherosclerosis. 2013 Jan;226(1):186-92. doi: 10.1016/ j.atherosclerosis.2012.09.004. Epub 2012 Sep 21. PMID: 23040832.

Sutin, A. R., Stephan, Y., & Terracciano, A. (2015). Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality. Psychological Science, 26(11), 1803-1811. https://doi.org/10.1177/0956797615601103

Tomiyama, A Janet, et al. “Long‐term Effects of Dieting: Is Weight Loss Related to Health. Socialand Personality Psychology Compass, 6 July 2017, escholarship.org/uc/item/0tv27311.

Mann T, Tomiyama AJ, Westling E, Lew AM, Samuels B, Chatman J. Medicare's search for effective obesity treatments: diets are not the answer. Am Psychol. 2007 Apr;62(3):220-33. doi: 10.1037/0003-066X.62.3.220. PMID: 17469900.

Patton GC, Selzer R, Coffey C, Carlin JB, Wolfe R. Onset of adolescent eating disorders: population based cohort study over 3 years. BMJ. 1999 Mar 20;318(7186):765-8. doi: 10.1136/bmj.318.7186.765. PMID: 10082698; PMCID: PMC27789.

Puhl, Rebecca, and Kelly D. Bronwell. “Bias, Discrimination, and Obesity.” Obesity Research, 6 Sept. 2012. doi.org/10.1038/oby.2001.108

Engber, Daniel. “Glutton Intolerance: What If a War on Obesity Only Makes the Problem Worse?” Slate, https://slate.com/technology/2009/10/the-health-effects-of-discrimination-against-fat-people.html 5 Oct. 2009.

Teachman, B. A., Gapinski, K. D., Brownell, K. D., Rawlins, M., & Jeyaram, S. (2003). Demonstrations of implicit anti-fat bias: The impact of providing causal information and evoking empathy. Health Psychology, 22(1), 68–78.

Chastain, Ragen. “So My Doctor Tried to Kill Me.” Dances With Fat, https://danceswithfat.org/2009/12/15/so-my-doctor-tried-to-kill-me/ 15 Dec. 2009.

Sutin AR, Stephan Y, Terracciano A. Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality. Psychol Sci. 2015 Nov;26(11):1803-11. doi: 10.1177/0956797615601103. Epub 2015 Sep 29. PMID: 26420442; PMCID: PMC4636946.

Sassenrath, Jenna. “Anti-Blackness Is Anti-Fatness in ‘Fearing the Black Body.’” Bookstr, bookstr.com/article/anti-blackness-is-anti-fatness-in-fearing-the-black-body/ 26 July 2023.

“Novo Nordisk (NVO) - Market Capitalization.” CompaniesMarketCap.Com - Companies Ranked by Market Capitalization, companiesmarketcap.com/novo-nordisk/marketcap/ 2024.

Commissioner, Office of the. “FDA Approves New Drug Treatment for Chronic Weight Management, First since 2014.” U.S. Food and Drug Administration, FDA, www.fda.gov/news-events/press-announcements/fda-approves-new-drug-treatment-chronic-weight-management-first-2014. 5 July 2024.

Karris, L. (1977). Prejudice against Obese Renters. The Journal of Social Psychology, 101(1), 159–160. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224545.1977.9924002

“Campaign for Size Freedom.” NAAFA, 2023,

naafa.org/sizefreedom. 5 July 2024.

“The Obesity Pay Gap Is Worse than Previously Thought.” The Economist, The Economist Newspaper, www.economist.com/finance-and-economics/2023/11/23/the-obesity-pay-gap-is-worse-than-previously-thought. 5 July 2024.

Elizabeth Beety, Valena (2013) "Criminality and Corpulence: Weight Bias in the Courtroom," Seattle Journal for Social Justice: Vol. 11: Iss. 2, Article 4. https:// digitalcommons.law.seattleu.edu/sjsj/vol11/iss2/4

Berrett, Martyn. “More Obesity Discrimination: The NHS Will Deny Non-Urgent Surgery to Obese Patients.” Healthier Weight, 24 Nov. 2022, www.healthierweight.co.uk/blog/more-obesity-discrimination-the-nhs-will-deny-non-urgent-surgery-to-obese-patients/.

LaRosa, John. “U.S. Weight Loss Industry Grows to $90 Billion, Fueled by Obesity Drugs Demand.” Market Research Blog, The Freedonia Group, Inc., 2 May 2024, blog.marketresearch.com/u.s.-weight-loss-industry-grows-to-90-billion-fueled-by-obesity-drugs-demand.

Conley, H. “Studies Show Top Surgery Is Safe for FAT Patients, but Some Surgeons Still Mandate Weight Loss.” STAT, 25 July 2023, www.statnews.com/2023/06/02/top-surgery-safe-fat-patients/.

Muir, Becca. “Opinion: Women with Obesity Are Often Restricted from IVF. That’s Discriminatory.” NPR, 14 Jan. 2024, www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2024/01/14/1224546666/opinion-women-with-obesity-are-often-restricted-from-ivf-thats-discriminatory.

Carter, Helen. “Too Fat to Adopt - the Married, Teetotal Couple Rejected by Council Because of Man’s Weight.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 13 Jan. 2009, www.theguardian.com/society/2009/jan/13/adoption-rejected-couple.

Badshah, Nadeem. “Two Teenagers Placed in Foster Care after Weight Loss Plan Fails.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 11 Mar. 2021, amp.theguardian.com/society/2021/mar/10/two-teenagers-placed-in-foster-care-after-weight-loss-plan-fails.

Wagner B, Klinitzke G, Brähler E, Kersting A. Extreme obesity is associated with suicidal behavior and suicide attempts in adults: results of a population-based representativesample. Depress Anxiety. 2013 Oct;30(10):975-81. doi: 10.1002/da.22105. Epub 2013 Apr 10. PMID:23576272.

Kolata, Gina. “Why Do Obese Patients Get Worse Care? Many Doctors Don’t See Past the Fat.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 26 Sept. 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/09/26/health/obese-patients-health-care.html.

[trans-axolotl]

PA DOC Sued for Discriminating Against Person with Disabilities: The Right to AAC in Prison

there was a recent press release from Disability Rights PA about current litigation happening in PA that is trying to ensure that John Topper, a man with Huntington's disease, can access an Augmentative/Alternative Communication device while incarcerated.

Currently, the DOC is denying him all access to any communication aids, forcing him to "communicate by typing notes on a tablet and passing it back and forth with the person he is attempting to communicate with. This tablet breaks frequently, and prison staff regularly prevent him from bringing the tablet with him everywhere in the prison...After returning from the hospital, the DOC denied him a working communication aid for ten days. As a result, he was only able to communicate with psychiatry staff via thumbs up and down gestures."

this has dramatically impacted Topper's wellbeing: " 'This has been such an emotional and mental struggle for me daily. Day-to-day routines are very hard without a means of effective communication and I have to struggle to have my daily needs met,' said John Topper, the plaintiff in the case. "

Topper cannot access healthcare, daily programming, or stay in contact with his family members. Prison staff refuse to provide any forms of communication aids for daily interactions, making it difficult and sometimes impossible for Topper to request things like toothpaste, toilet paper, or other daily needs. This is cruel, harmful punishment that highlights the types of carceral violence that disabled people face while incarcerated.

This lawsuit is suing to get Topper daily and continuous access to an AAC text to speech device. His counsel already bought him this device and the prison has it available, and yet they refuse to give it to him for pointless and arbitrary reasons. They've told Topper he has to choose between a wheelchair accessible cell and a cell with an outlet, they've told him that they were making his current tablet accessible but then said the only accessible adaptation they could add was a screen-reader, which his does not need, and have threatened and taken away his current tablet many times. The cruelty is the point.

It's vital as disabled people that we have solidarity with those most targeted by the state, and that we fight for our comrades currently incarcerated. Prisons are disabling and prisons target disabled people: we need to fight to make sure our comrades can get their needs met, and we need to fight to free them all!

keep an eye on Disability Rights PA and Pennsylvania Institutional Law Project for updates about Topper's case and for any steps the public can take to support him. I've reached out to ask about how to send letters to him/info for his commissary fund; I will update this post when I get more information.

disability justice means free them all!!

[richeeduvie]

✭ THE LENGTHS ✭

PART ONE: GUILTY CUBICLES

DARK(ISH) JACK ABBOTT x READER

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

You don't know the lengths to which he'd go.

Jack finds you. You're a new nurse working the night shift for the first time, and even though his introduction to you is you dead asleep at your desk, his time stuck with you and your eccentric, peppy behavior doesn't stop him from realizing your capabilities that are beyond what you should be able to do. With that, there's something about you that manages to grasp onto him despite what Jack knows best, to the point where even he's not willing to let you go for the sake of staying sane. For the sake of staying himself. It's an all-too-close work friendship that, again, for the sake of staying sane, he denies is anything more than a healthy and professional relationship with you. But when he can finally get rid of his degrading thoughts referring to him as an old sad fuck who doesn't deserve the sunshine of the E.R? When the two of you experience the tension and bond that only the walls of the Pitt can close in on?

You tell him you have a boyfriend. But even in the sudden anger and disappointment over this, Jack knows there's something about the claim that isn't adding up. Others believe, at first, that it's only Jack attempting to cling to you without admitting it, but when situations arise with their sunny, resilient nurse becoming someone they can't recognize, they find they have no choice but to let Jack protect you.

But what happens when the protection consumes him? There's no telling.

PART ONE DESCRIPTION: Jack meets the new nurse Robbie's been fawning over, only to then take the next couple of nights to pathetically cope with what he's feeling for the peppy, sunny young woman he's just met.

WORD COUNT: 7.9K || SLOW(ISH)BURN!! EVENTUAL SMUT (p in v sex, rough, unprotected) graphic depictions of violence, assault, death, and blood. Abuse (Not from Jack) Jealousy, obsession, possessive behavior, Dr. Robby x Reader if you squint like there's no tomorrow. Age gap (the reader is just younger than Jack, you can decide by how many years). Mentions of suicidal behavior. Manipulation (is it manipulation if Jack really believes what he's saying??). Delusional behavior (That Jack is very much aware of and hates himself for, but delulu be deluluing). Very inaccurate depictions of the healthcare system and medical terminology. This is probably my one and only Jack Abbott fic, if his characterization is off I'm sorry...let's just chalk it up to him being too much in love like how he does here <3

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

Robby, my brother.

I don't even know where the fuck to begin. But I am so, so sorry. For everything. Please. Take care of her.

————————————————

Although there is solace in the darkness, that doesn’t mean there aren’t monsters hiding in it. It almost feels too fucking childish for him to think like this, but it’s too easy. 

This night tempts harm. It tempts Jack to hold himself too tightly, or to hide his tension away in his anger. He already readies himself for the slight guilt he’ll feel when he’s too harsh and quick in correcting mistakes while taking too long to give credit when it’s earned. But tonight? The few outwardly kind things about his soul can’t make their way to his bones and eyes…but what’s the truly awful thing about this shift to make Jack feel as if there’s violence and internal misery around every corner of the hospital? 

“Oh, Abbott, I was wondering–” 

“Sorry, not now.” 

No patients have died. No patients are near death. Jack has failed no one yet, and yeah, thinking that staying true to his vows of medicine as the most terrible thing about tonight is shitty, so fucking shitty that it goes against the said vows that have consumed his instinct to work and manage the ones who need help, but to him, he just remembers the worst about what’s steady about him. That sometimes he’s not steady, that even on good shifts and quiet nights, his pain will make its way back to him.

This is trauma. It’s never new, but sometimes wordless, nameless in the feelings that are brought to a boil, like now, and there-fucking-fore, it’s much easier to hide in the dark as it waits for Jack to get comfortable in his skin. Apparently, this is progress according to his therapist. That it’s good that his trauma finds way into even the best of shifts because that means he is comfortable enough to let it in on the good days, that he’s not beating the worst of his emotions into a little box he’ll save for opening up on a shit shift as he makes his way up to the rooftop. Well, sure as hell doesn’t feel like progress, but he has to trust the therapist he pays 120 dollars an hour. 

“Abbott, the patient in room three, the elderly man with a breath like death, is there a possibility-” 

“Sorry. Not now. My bladder is turning against me.”

“...Didn’t need to know that.” 

“Okay. Sorry, I’ll never make a quip as long as I live.” 

“Not now” is his phrase for the next ten minutes, and he’ll feel a slighter slight guilt in how he’ll take a breather in the bathroom, or next to the vending machine, because there is a job to be done and it’s not hiding in the dark with his monsters. But Dr. 240-bucks-for-80-minutes says these breathers are needed for Jack to be the best at his job. For others. Something like that.

Unfortunately, Dr. 240 bucks for 120 minutes is right. Jack tries not to choke on the breath he can’t let go of. He tries to stay strong because he’s here at his job, so he tries to keep the walls standing up right and unblurred, which he should be able to do on good days. Easily.

It’s almost a strong stride to the bathroom until the nurse's station. Jack slows in his step, brows slightly furrowing as he looks around. Only by eyes, not by the turn of his head. 

And like that, under the scene of unprofessionalism, the way he feels is no longer unbreathable. So.

Thank you for that.

He doesn’t notice how quick he is to turn his sights back on you. This girl. No, this woman, just a younger woman…a nurse he’s never seen before.

You’re dead asleep. He means dead asleep. There’s no other name for the way your body leans its weight onto your swivel chair, head lifted back, breath deep.

It’s the 3rd most unprofessional thing he’s ever seen.

Jack lets out a breath. He takes one in. Let’s that one out, and it’s continuous as he studies the way you almost snore. He must’ve found it easier to breathe in standing instead of indulging his restlessness by pacing all over the trauma center. Makes sense. Makes a hell's lot more sense than this newbie who’s taking a nap on her shift. And Jack allows for the slight hand of his anger to curl. You are sleeping on the job without a care in the world, and considering that he’s never seen you before, you’re probably doing this while new to the crew. 

He ignores the ten seconds of the way he watches you almost-snore before he knocks his fist on your desk to wake you. 

“I’m up! I’m…I’m up.” 

You rub your eyes as you force yourself to sit up straight. Jack continues to stare as you collect yourself. 

Jack's eyes slightly narrow when he notices you're beautiful, but he doesn't think it, not when there’s a lecture to be had. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jack tilts his head forward in a way that’s curt. 

“...I am glad you are. Considering that you’ve taken the hours when you’re on the clock as hours to have naptime, it’s good that I can see you’re apologetic.” It seems that you truly are in the way your brows twist in the soft lines of your face, as you scratch your nose.

Jack looks away. He puts his arms behind his back, squeezing his wrist because it feels right to do here. “That’s not what we’d consider professional. Or safe. For the patients we’re watching, I mean. I hope you know that?” 

“I know, I know. I promise you, sir–I’m not as stupid as I look right now. I think.” You pull on your scrub top, fixing the sleepful parts of you. “I arrived maybe ten minutes ago? I’m covering for…Princess.” 

“...I don’t think she was supposed to work tonight.” 

Jack blinks when you put your head in your hands, rubbing your temple.  

“I don’t even know, this is my first time working a night shift ever. I woke up to being called in, so here I am.” 

Jack blinks again when you spin in your chair. Not once, but twice in the way your voice goes high at the end of your sentence. 

Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?

You drop your smile when he doesn’t say anything, and yeah, it’s because you deserve to be a little uncomfortable with your mistake, but also…Jack doesn’t know what to say. 

“It won’t ever happen again, sir.” 

“No. Not if you keep to the day shift.” 

“Oh. Hopefully.” You swallow with a small smile, twirling a pen in your hands. “No offense to you night owls.” 

Jack doesn’t look away when your smile reaches him with your eyes on his. Why would he? 

The only other question to ask is why he knows his chest would feel less hot if he did. 

“Not everyone can find the dark shifts fun enough to stay up for.” 

“No, I enjoy a healthy sleep schedule too much–” You break your words with a yawn that you try to stop. Literally. It’s like you try to wave it up and out of your little neck. “...for that.” 

Jack’s brow furrows down with his eyes going slightly wide. You’re an oddball who’s pissed him off a little, and he wonders if this charming, sunny banter is purposeful to get him off your case. 

“Anywayssss, sorry for keeping you off duty, sir.” 

He won’t give you that satisfaction, because you aren’t supposed to be sleeping on the job. You won’t get away that easily. He means, he’ll quit when he sees a properly embarrassed pout, or something that can prove to Jack that you’re serious about said embarrassment…

Yeah. That’s why he doesn’t walk away to spend his last free minutes in the bathroom. You seem alright…bright, but if you’re new, you simply need to learn. It’s not against you, that’s just the way it is. 

“You decided to prioritize a healthy sleeping schedule before or after nursing school? Or did you realize how much you love to sleep when you decided to become an E.R nurse?” 

Jack lowers his eyes to where your elbow rests on the table as you let your chin fall into your palm. Is that purposeful too? The softness of it all? 

“Ha ha. I try my best, which is why this is my first night ever. I’m surprised I made it this far without taking up…what the darkness offers.”

…Should he kill himself for noticing the way you’re soft? Maybe. It isn’t professional how he notices, and it’s a bit intense, like he’s a schoolboy who can’t control the way he oogles. Whatever's going on with your face shouldn't make a different.

"...Sir?"

He’s not oogling, really. He’s noticing you’re pretty, and you’re lit in the way you’re pretty. He doesn’t know you, but with the way you smile even though you’re being snarkily reprimanded, with the way you tap your pen, with the way your hair shifts with every head tilt…that’s not on him. That just means you’re pretty. He’s not reacting to what he’s seeing. Besides, even if he was, killing himself would probably be the more unprofessional and intense thing, right?

Besides, a pretty face doesn't mean anything here. Not to him. Blood sprays far and wide.

“...Yeah. Well, if I find you again and I report you to healthcare management, you’re not making it further than tonight.” 

The way Jack says it, he’s pretty sure it was supposed to be serious in reprimand, maybe not, but it comes out weak in that context. He doesn’t know why it falls on his tongue like he’s joking with you. But really…he can’t keep up when you laugh. 

“So, I’m assuming I can’t eat at my desk either. Alrighty.”

Why can’t he keep up when you laugh? And how does he stare and turn away when you do? 

Why does the sound and look of you sear him at the skin and chest?

“Just–don’t knock yourself out on the clock again. You hear me? Not cool.”

Jack doesn’t care how he realizes then, when you nod curtly with your smile under your soft and blinking focus, he really doesn’t care for it…how he doesn’t have to ask for eye contact with you.

Even more so, he’s the one to look away first, as if he has to if he doesn’t want to feel the heat of the sun hurling towards him. That bit of Jack is lost and replaced with something unlike him, because why? 

“Can do.” 

This could be something he never has to think about again if he just leaves at that, if he continues to walk to do what he planned on doing five minutes ago, but for some reason, he’s willing to face whatever insecurities this introduction is brewing, because…despite all his flaws, his many, many flaws, acting like a shy and flustered little guy at the first sight of someone like you isn’t one of them. 

It takes ten seconds for you to look up at him again when you realize Jack hasn’t moved. 

“What’s your name?” 

Your smile drops. 

“Sir, please don’t report me to healthcare management–or Dana! God, no! I came in ten minutes ago, and I close my eyes for a minute and–” 

Jack goes to put the palms of his hand on the counter, but it’s a movement he decides against before putting his hands behind his back again. Well. One hand. The other makes a fist at his hip.  

“That was a joke. As long as you’re not kicking patients out their beds to use them, I wouldn’t risk this hospital losing nurses. It was a joke.” 

It became one, didn’t it? Your eyes close with your sigh. When they open, you take to looking at the tile.

“Hey. I was joking. I think.” 

This is familiar, the way he leans his head forward, slightly demanding your sight on him. This is him, and he deserves to be himself, apparently. Or, it’s good that you know he’s not a flustered stumbler if you’re gonna stick around. 

“I’m definitely going to take your word for my sake. Okay.” 

You stick out your hand with your name greeting him past your lips. Jack nods, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours when he takes your palm firmly

He shouldn’t be proud that he does this without surprise, smacking him across the face, but he is when your name fully registers in his head. He’s heard about you before, as people hear about new people before they get the chance to meet them first. 

You’re the new nurse who showed up about three weeks ago.

You’re the new nurse. Robby’s nurse.

It hasn’t even been a month and in the chances he gets to spend his moments talking with Robby in the handing over of shifts, Robby's mentioned you way too fucking much. With your name in the squeezing of your smaller hand, Jack knows too much about you. He guesses that if you’re as capable and talented in your duties as Robby says you are, then it’s warranted. But still, he was happy to know the nursing shortage was challenged by the Pitt gaining a competent addition to the team at first, but in every other conversation, your name just happened to pop out of Robby’s mouth. 

“She’s just–it’s not just about having no complaints about her and her abilities. She’s great.” 

“...I gathered that, Robby. These past weeks, I’ve been a gatherer of information for our new nurse. Besides the last story and the last story, just tell me, does the sun shine out of her ass? 

Robby smiled a smile that was almost as bright as yours, even though Jack didn’t really ask it as something to laugh at, his words were dead in the pan.

“Medically speaking, yeah. You know, man–could just be that you’re expecting a good nurse and you end up with a great one who’s knowledgeable in a way that’s beyond her paygrade.” 

“All nurses are underpaid.” 

“I’m meaning…that she’s basically a third-year resident and a nurse combined. I don’t give her the tasks of a resident, but it’s like, like…if it came down to it, I could trust her with it. The tasks.”

“...Hopefully you’re not projecting this professional infatuation onto her, because the last thing I need is a cocky-connie trying to run my shifts.” 

And Robby gave him a look, as if their conversation was no longer banter. 

“Cocky-connie? That's just something you made up right now, and it’s not infatuation if she’s that fucking good, man. It’s just the truth. But you don’t gotta worry, she’s humble. She doesn’t wallow in self-degradation, but she’s just humble.” 

“Oh. Good. I’m wondering how I haven’t met the savior of Pittsburgh's nursing community.” 

“Yeah, she kinda makes sure to leave right when her shift’s over. Which is a shame for you, all her baked goods are gone in an hour.” 

“...She bakes?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“...Okay. Robby?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Everything you’ve claimed her to be in the past half-month has been invalidated just now.” 

“What??” 

“The baked goods have gone to your head. I can’t trust your recommendation.” 

“Oh, come on, brother! People can have multiple talents, and this place can benefit from all of it.” 

“...Sir?” 

Jack blinks himself sober. “Sorry. Nice to put a name to the perpetrator.” He squeezes your hand again. “Jack Abbott.” 

You’re the first one to let go. 

You blink, mouth parting slightly. 

“Oh! Dr. Abbott, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

…He guesses Robby told you about him, or maybe it’s just the perpetual gossip that exists in the walls of this hospital that’s led his reputation before him. For a second, the tenseness of his hands begs the question, what have other people said about him to you?

Another question is begged at the curl of his palms, why the hell does he care?

“Robby’s told me so much about you. Dr. Robby.” 

Jack could scoff. There are things Robbie didn’t mention about you, and he’s assuming that was for a reason. 

“Good things? Or do I have to beat on him?" 

“I thought when we’d be introduced, there’d be light trailing you.”

Jack’s head shakes once. What?

“...What?” 

“You are apparently so, so badass. And also good at your job. I guess the latter is more important, or you’re badass because you’re so good? Anyways.” You scoot your chair in closer. “Excuse my language, I’m just surprised the sun doesn’t shine out of your ass with the way he talks about you.” 

…Huh.

Jack nods as if this is an expected thing to hear, because if he doesn’t, he’ll notice the way his face has gotten hot, and if he does, he’ll find a one-way ticket to the rooftop a reasonable thing to joke about. Ha-ha. 

“...Yeah, yeah. That’s good.” 

Apparently he’ll never make a quip as long as he lives.

“Yeah.” 

“...Yeah! Well, I guess I should actually do my job. Again, nice meeting you, Dr. Abbott.” 

Jack watches you get up from your chair and away from your desk. You nearly brush shoulders when you do. 

“Yeah. Nice meeting you.” 

He scratches the back of his ear as you walk away. 

“I better not find you knocked out in a supply closet.” 

His words almost echo, and he almost smiles when you throw a thumbs up without looking his way. 

When he turns back to the nurses station, whatever’s on his face drops immediately. 

“Dana?” 

“...Nothin’. See you met our new girl. She's smiley, ain't she?”

"I didn't notice."

"...I'm gonna let that one slide."

"What--"

"I'm taking my smoke break."

…Alright. The bathroom. The bathroom, right? Jack takes his way there. 

You’re alright, and he doesn’t know if he’ll see your capabilities tested tonight, but you’re alright. They’re lucky to have a new addition to the center to make the days…and nights easier, but he wouldn’t mind if it were a night. Singular.  

He wouldn’t mind if it were in the plural, either, he guesses. In the end, what he’s felt tonight are the bits of him that aren’t him, the unusual – and he’s allowed to be unusual when he’s meeting someone who can be that cheery and mutually quippy five minutes after waking up from the dead.  He’s allowed to feel confused about what he felt in his chest as much as he’s allowed to ignore it, and he’ll ignore it because it’s nothing. Nothing but a funny, pretty nurse who knows how to get out of trouble and make Robby go...gooey. If he ignores it…well then, he can take advantage of your talents without a problem. 

That and your possible baked goods. That he'll take advantage of.

Other than that, he’s sure the night will keep the distance between the two of you. Not that he isn't capable of doing that himself.

Not that he even has to, and that's nothing against you.

————————————————

Jack moves quicker when he sees you running towards him the next night. His brows rise with widening eyes. 

“...Well.” 

You look up at him with that same smile that finds the pit of his stomach, and when it happens, he almost doesn’t register the seven pudding cups in your hands. 

A surprise night two and he’s already seeping with…ridiculous, unnecessary ardor. If he can even call it that. But he’s not gonna blame you, you can’t be at fault for something that’s supposed to be nothing. Unless you know how unbaringly bright your smile is, and he’s not gonna create an issue for the suckers up in H.R just to ask a stupid fucking question. It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t, because there shouldn’t be a faltering on his end just from a smile and a laugh and some banter from the new nurse. There’s not.

But still, Jack kinda wonders if you do know. 

“Hey! Lookey, no need to sound Reveille for me.”

…No need to sound Reveille? 

“How much did Robby tell you about me?” 

“You’re too cool to keep a secret. But why? Did I say something–” 

“No. No. But…lookey indeed. You got lost in the dark to the point you couldn’t find your way back to the day shift?” 

Your smile softens with a sigh. “Yep, you and any other night-preferred physician are stuck with me for the next five days.”

His head gestures to the pudding cups. “Do I wanna know? Wait, rephrase. Do I have to know as your attending physician?” 

“Not really. Lucky you, Dr. Abbott.” 

Jack allows what's almost a smile to creep on his face, because this is sorta funny, and you know what? He’s glad to see you again, despite what’s seeping in against his best interest. Which is nothing.

He crosses his arms. 

“We’ve got you for the week, why?” 

“I was covering for Princess last night. She has COVID, and her mandatory five-day stay away from the world has me covering for her. So, if you’re empty-handed right now, there’s a man in room six desperate for a doctor to guide him through the motions of taking the light bulb out of his ass.” 

You’ve allowed yourself comfortability with Jack already. Even he wasn’t like this with Robby in the early days of their friendship. 

Maybe you don’t know how you smile or tilt your head or fiddle with your body language, because if it’s everyone that can see it, maybe they’re not purposeful or even impulsive decisions outside of what you usually do, it’s just who you are. Who the fuck ever knows who they are? 

Besides, if they were uncommon, purposeful movements, why would you choose to do them towards him? That’s where it seems pretty fucking impossible. 

“I was told you always leave exactly when your shift is done, and that seemed true last night.” 

It is. You took off the minute your time in the Pitt was over. But your smile faltering isn’t purposeful, Jack thinks. Here, he shames himself for yesterday, the way he was secretly relieved he didn't see much of you or you as a nurse during the shift. The begged questions wouldn't do him any favors with the night he was having. But the sun came up, and you were gone before anyone knew it.

He doesn’t know you, but for once, there’s almost something of a…serious nature on the lines of your face and lips. Just like that. 

“Yeah…yeah, you were told right. Responsibilities in the world outside our castle stop me from going above and beyond as a nurse. If there’s ever a moment, day or night, when I have to work overtime, I will definitely, but you know. Life.” 

“...Okay. For Pittsburgh's sake, let’s hope it never comes to that." Jack scratches his ear.

The name-dropping from his mouth is natural, he thinks. Acceptance at what's been given to him, turning fatigued lemons into banter-full lemonade, because you know what?

At the end of the day, he cares for the group of people he's partnered with. The people he teaches, the people he saves others alongside with. But none of them have ever made him feel likes he's bits of a newer, flustered-fuck of a man on the first day of meeting them. They don't affect him that way. You shouldn't.

He can play with them on occasion and is more than cordial. He should be no different with you.

"Am I able to look to you first for nursing assistance if I need it tonight, sleepy?

He crosses his arms when he can hear your footsteps halt past him. Saying it nearly dead-panned was purposeful.

“I cannot be given a nickname from a five-minute mistake. Please, Dr. Abbott.” 

“I’m not giving you a nickname, I haven’t known you long enough to deserve that kind of bullied affection. It’s just…” Jack delivers his word deadpanned, he turns to you with your face already pleading. His eyes shift quickly to the floor, then back to you with a curt nod or two. That’s purposeful. That’s feigning thought. 

He’s in a better mood tonight, he doesn’t know why. “It fits.” 

He can tell you stop yourself from rolling your eyes, because you’re probably smart enough to know where to tow the line when it comes to dry-humored conversations with a senior attending you barely know. 

“Are you saying I have to earn your professional friendship to earn your harassment?” 

“Let’s not use the word harassment, sleepy. Healthcare management has eyes everywhere.” 

“You know what, Dr. Abbott?” You ready a pudding cup in your hands, swinging it like you’re about to throw it. “Challenge accepted.” 

“Hey! Don’t–”

You throw the pudding cup that was never gonna be hard to catch. Still. 

You've accepted this easier than Jack would've thought. Sure, you're obvious in your light and...medical pep, but you're willing in play already.

Well. That reaction really shouldn't effect him either.

“Don’t throw objects in the walkways.” 

You begin walking backwards. 

“And don’t walk backwards.”

“If that name reaches the day crew, you’re in for it.” 

“...Excuse me?” 

And like that, you’re gone with a light jog when Jack can hear a voice screaming “Nurse!” throughout the curls of the halls. 

The strangeness of you found questions in Jack, too many for a night that’s tolerable. It would be too much for Jack and Jack alone, really…because maybe those feelings can be chalked up to what you claimed, a professional friendship, and despite the parts of his bones that are hardened, guarded, and whatever else his therapist accuses him of being, he’s not entirely closed off. Being closed-off doesn’t make a good doctor or caretaker; it doesn’t help anybody, especially not himself, if he somehow does deserve help by the end of the day. 

Nobody knows the whole of themselves, but these are the few things Jack is sure of, and with that, you're about to be what everyone else is to him: A person he can get along with. What more is needed?

————————————————

Dr. Jack Abbott is a nice man. A cool guy. And you’re glad you trusted Dr. Robby’s word on him. He is pretty badass. Even though there hasn’t been much chaos in the two shifts you’re partnered with him on, you can tell he’d be able to thrive under it. 

And he’s funny. He’s a person you can find yourself comfortable with easily. Although…it’s been a long time since you were yourself that you’re not sure if you should be giving credit to Dr. Abbott or to yourself for that, but–

“Sleepy.”

You jump when Dr. Abbott is just suddenly in front of you. 

“...Hey. I didn’t mean to make you jolt out of your seat, but…hi.”

But he’s gone now. You have more than enough time to figure who you are without him hurting you. 

“No–no. What’s up?” 

Dr. Abbott puts his hands at his sides. “Tonight’s the night you take me up on my offer. A lady’s in room seven with what looks to be a non-critical issue. Diaz was gonna check her in, put down the vitals and lab sheets for me, but with it being a slow night on your minor rotation…and with what I’ve heard about you,” His hands make his way up to the counter, one palm lies flat. “Am I allowed to put your skills to the test? Or should I let you take another nap?” 

You smile with your heart speeding in its beat. He’s funny. You think he likes you, or maybe he’s the person here that can be easy with others, make others smile. But, either way, the night shift isn’t looking to be so bad, after all. 

It doesn’t hurt that he’s so handsome either, not that that matters. But it’s…you’re in a place where it can and you won’t be hurt for it. You’re in a place where you can get along and care for others and you can exist for other people, people who you can tell are already great at their jobs, great at being. 

You can exist for others and not be bruised for it. That’s how it should be, your therapist says. It’s valid to feel guilty after how long you were with him, what he forced your mind to learn, but this is how it should be. 

“Of course.” 

…Even though you’re suddenly terrified. Still, you keep your smile along your face.

You are confident in your capabilities as a nurse, you have to be if you’re gonna be working with emergency patients, but you trust Dr. Abbott to be a great doctor, and even if he isn’t, he’s obviously a superior, and putting your skills out there for anyone to observe is terrifying, especially when you’re newer, you want to impress everyone, and that feeling is intense, the anxiety that comes at the idea that you won’t is even worse. 

But you’ve been through worse. You’ve felt worse. 

“Room seven, you said?” 

“Yep. I have some charts to finish, another patient to check on. When you’re done, come find me and give me a debrief.” 

“Alrighty, Dr.” 

You throw a salute at him. Dr. Abbott only confuses you when his brows go low with a stare. 

“...How much did Robby tell you about me?” 

“I don’t know what I’m saying that you would ask that.” 

“...Just get on the patient, please.” 

You do. She’s a 57-year-old woman named Lillian. She’s nice enough.

“What happened to that young Hispanic man? I was looking forward to being examined by him.” 

It’s the not worst sexual harassment you’ve ever witnessed or have received from a patient, but even in the shameless comment, you can tell she’s pale and uncomfortable. 

“I hope my face does just well enough, ma’am. You’re stuck with me. So, what’s exactly the matter, tonight?” 

You find that what’s been the matter with the patient for a while is that she was previously healthy to only come in with intermittent chest tightness, dyspnea, and a dry cough with a bit of lightheadedness. No on COVID. No on the flu, but most of her concern is how every hospital before yours claims it’s only a cold as her immune system weakens into old age. 

“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll try our best to stop you from feeling like this.” 

As you slowly make your way to Dr. Abbott at the nurse’s station, you do more than you’re supposed to in your head in thinking about her symptoms. You are a confident nurse. You’re proud to be one…even if it wasn’t your first career choice, but still, you do know you’re not supposed to be the one to make the conclusions. You can suggest, offer, assist, but you cannot allow your confidence to lie in the things you’re not allowed to do. 

Still, there’s something wrong here. It’s more than all the things that have been ruled out, and even though you know there is risk of seeming pushy or out of your depth at bringing up your theory to Dr. Abbott if he comes up with it first, but for the sake of the patient, you have to. The wellbeing of them outrules…the rules. 

This is not about seeming impressive to him…or to anyone, but if it does, you wouldn’t mind the emotional benefit of that. 

“Dr. Abbott.” 

Dr. Abbott turns around, stern in the movement…strong in the arms. You wonder if you’d noticed that before. 

“You’re done already?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“I was told to be expecting a mystery illness.” 

“Yeppers,” You hand him the chart and he’s quick to flip through it, studying it with a practiced eye. “She’s been two primary care doctors and urgent care before going to another E.R in Philly.”

He continues his study, and this is really the first time you’re able to see Dr. Abbott doing his job, and although he’s literally just looking at a chart, his focus is natural. Admirable.

“Normal ECG, troponins are slightly elevated but not screaming at us. Is the echo still pending?” You nod. “Labs are not gonna be for another couple of hours.” 

“Mhmm. But if it’s the same as the last department, they’ll probably run clean. Still,” 

“Mhmm. What?” 

“...Did you just mock me, Dr. Abbott?” 

“Mm-mm. What is it?” 

You stop yourself from rolling yourselves with the rush of blood against your arms. The way his jokes come out as if they’re fact, as if he’s not joking. 

The night shift isn’t so bad. And Dr. Abbott is more than a good man, he’s much too likeable already. 

“I’ll wait on the echo before I suggest anything.” 

Dr. Abbott looks up. He blinks before his eyes slightly narrow. 

“Alright. I suppose it’s my turn to examine her now, and whatever comes from my assessment, you’ll sit with me on the next patient after.” 

“Alright.” 

Your word is not unkind, but curt in a slightly lowered voice. 

You try to not let your smile get so wide when Dr. Abbott points a low finger. 

“I’m just going to state my rules, well, my preferences. I couldn’t have specifics rules for a nurse, I’m not your superior, Dana Evans is–” 

“Damn right.” 

It’s Dana flying past, covered in a fluid you will not ask about.  

You turn back to see Dr. Abbott’s eyes on you first. You suppose he’s more used to Dana or any nurse or fellow attending or resident covered in fluid. 

“If you’re gonna take to the night shift, I’d rather not have you mock me. But I’ll be in room seven with…” He takes his sights back to the chart before handing it back to you. “Lillian.” 

You wait a few seconds before Dr. Abbott’s away from you.

“Right back at ya.” 

You smile when Jack stops in his tracks. He takes two seconds to turn and takes seconds to stare at you when you blow a finger gun. His brows raise. His eyes go small. 

“You are so strange.” 

Your smile keeps at his simple statement, despite the fact that you’re shocked at his easy bravery. You suppose you’re glad he can already feel comfortable around you to bully, that makes for good teamwork. That seems to be the truth for your time with Dr. Robbie, and his little group of residents and students you’re trying to get to know. 

He turns back, and for the next twenty minutes, he’s gone. 

Dana’s suddenly next to you, chair against chair. She sighs shakily.

“People need to stop shoving shit up their anuses. At the very least, the country needs to make a law against it. Why is it that every nurse that has been and is to be will encounter butt stuff?

“I don’t know about lawmaking, Dana. That won’t stop anyone.” 

The blonde woman smiles thinly, but sweetly before it fades slightly. 

“How’s the night shift treating ya, so far?”

“Alright, actually.” 

“...How’s Abbott?” 

Dr. Abbott? “He’s great. For a conversation where I’m bullied, I mean. But he’s a pretty good doctor, yeah?” 

“One of the best, don’t tell him I said that. Tell him I said he’s good. Just enough praise to situate confidence, but not enough to build an ego. Same goes for Robbie.” 

You chuckle at Dana’s rightful plan, chin resting on your hand when you squeak your chair closer to her. 

“...How do the others like him?” 

You already regret the question when Dana’s brows raise, but you don’t know why, it’s just a question where you want to see if the others you’re getting to know like him as much as you do. 

You like him. And that’s okay. You can exist around him and it’s not a crime. 

Nothing about the way you feel deserves punishment. Remind yourself of that if you want the way you smile and the way you want to make others laugh and feel good feel real. If you want to be yourself. 

“In this department, with his ability? He’s easy to like and learn from. He’s not sunshine in a can like you, but you’ve obviously seen he’s able to…appear like he has a will to live.”

“...Sunshine in a can?” 

You’re completely confused in the way you blink quickly. 

“You’ve been here for almost a month and one would think we suddenly have a teddy-bear rotation. The fact that I have not come to resent your constant smiling or surprise granola says something about you.” 

“...Dana–” 

“Take the compliment, sunshine. If I have to hear our Mckay bitch about the lack of brownies since you’ve been put on the night shift, that means you belong here.” 

You smile small, and you’re smile being small doesn’t mean it’s any less genuine, but the idea of people perceiving you, or at the very least, your charge nurse perceiving you as someone who already belongs here makes your heart unbelievably shy. 

You’re glad that the person you can finally be is a person others like, but even in the confidence you need to relearn, you’ll keep that thought down for the sake of being humble. 

“Tell Cassie the day shift will have assorted scones ready for them when I come back. And speaking of my sunny absence, how’s you with the double shifts?”

“It’s probably my 15th anniversary of double shifts tonight. Maybe you can join me for once this time. Stop running for the door the minute your shift is done.” 

You try to smile.

"Hey, it's your one flaw, I'll take what I can get--"

“Sleepy,” You and Dana both look up at Dr. Abbott in front of you two, arms stretched out, palms flat on the counter. “On your feet, we’ll leave Evans to take a nap she actually deserves. Seriously, slugger, you running back and forth tonight worries me.” 

You almost moan when Dana’s mouth parts with a scoff readied on her tongue. “Sleepy? Oh, sweetie, that’s much better than sunshine.” 

You only burn when Dr. Abbott looks at you, then Dana, then you again, all with a stiff head and unblinking eyes. 

“Let’s go.” 

And you can only mouth “why?!” at Dana as you walk backwards behind him. 

“Stop doing that, please.” 

You stop walking backwards. 

“Thank you.” 

Before you know it, you’re standing alongside the newly introduced attending in the intake bay. A patient’s chart rests in his hands, and there. He’s focused again. 

His face is beautiful in his stern, simple sight, and the only issue is your instinct to blush instead of teasing him about it, so you try to focus on what must be the rare reprieve of the night shift, no drunk college kids or wounds from bar fights, right? The fluorescent light hum you know this place for is almost enough to not notice the way Dr. Abbott scratches his leg, and when he does, the pant leg pulls up by a few inches. 

And what’s underneath is metal instead of flesh and bone. Another life that’s built into him. 

Oh. To sound the reveille. The salute. The leg. Or lack thereof. That’s probably a cruel thought to have. You’re sorry. 

He must be a vet, and although you like him, and you want to get to know more of him, you feel like knowing that now without Dr. Abbott’s own words feel wrong. But you can’t think like that. 

These simple things do not deserve punishment. 

You clear your throat, dropping your body on a wheeled stool to spin. And spin. 

Dr. Abbott doesn’t look back down when he looks up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“You look like you’re trying to decode the Zodiac letters.” 

The small, clueless smirk you pressed your lips together for fades when Dr. Abbott puts the chart to his chest, and his face is plain, but already, you can tell by his eyes that he doesn’t find the joke in this. 

You stop spinning. 

“You must be very good at baking. Good on you.” 

You blink. “Oh! My reputation precedes me. And I am, if I do say so myself…” You blink again. 

Is he saying what you think he’s saying? 

“Dr. Abbott, if…my attempts–if I ever get too much, you can tell me. Whatever you’ve heard about me, I can assure you, I’ve definitely caused eye-rolls before.” 

Dr. Abbott gives you no reaction. You can’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but the way he simply looks back down at the chart strikes you. You swallow. 

Impress. Make do. Make people feel good. 

“Let me guess–non-traumatic, vague abdominal pain, vitals are stable, and the labs could bore you?” 

Dr. Abbott looks up and holds the chart over his legs, his head slightly lifted, but his eyes only on you. 

“There’s nausea, some lightheadedness. Minor tachycardia but not sustained. He says it gets worse after meals. Negative for ulcers. No fever. Nothing glaring at us in the CBC or BMP. You’ve ever caught smoke with your bare hands?” 

You shake your head. He blinks. Oh. 

“Of course you haven’t.” You try not to smile when he shakes his head. “I’d say it feels pancreatic, but the clarity on that isn’t as clear as I’d like it to be. Could be early gallbladder, but the imaging’s clean. I could go get Dr. Shen, or leave it to Robby in the morning for a second opinion but…I don’t know, sleepy.” 

“Can I?” 

You point to the curtain and Dr. Abbott doesn’t take a moment to nod, he only crosses his arm and narrows his head. 

You end up glancing through to see the patient. He’s mid-thirties, male. Seemingly alert and coherent, annoyed but not in distress. 

“May I?” 

Your hand gestures to the chart in Dr. Abbott hands and he gives it to you to study. Here, you wonder what it is he’s trying to do with you exactly, other than figuring out the situation with the new nurse he’s only met yester-night. 

…Is he challenging you? Trying to disprove what others believe? It makes you wonder what’s exactly been said about you to the point where Dr. Abbott or anybody else would think you’re more capable than the average nurse (and the average nurse is nothing short of God here in the Pitt, you think). 

And then you wonder what it is about the other parts of you that might make it harder for him to believe you are what you are, which is a nurse that knows more than she should. 

You can’t blame Dr. Abbott exactly, considering you were just playing spinsies on the chair two minutes ago. Still, the answer to his problem comes to you easily, and you can’t help but wonder what face he’ll make when you tell him. 

“I’m seeing he started a new ‘clean eating’ thing two weeks ago?” 

“No red meat, high fiber, the load of raw veggies.” 

You nod thoughtfully after he drags out the word load on his tongue. “Did you palpate the LLQ?” 

Really. You try not to smile when Dr. Abbott makes no face, but only shifts his crossed arms to folding his knuckles over his stomach. That says enough. 

“Yeah. He winced. No rebound, but no rigidity.” 

“And what about percussion on the sigmoid? Or the gas pattern?” 

And even though you’re not looking, you can feel his eyes watching you, asking a question. 

How the hell do you know exactly what to ask?

“...Some distension, but nothing dramatic. You…what are you seeing in this chart that I’m not?” 

You smile something that all too quickly turns into a smirk. You hate to break down your humbleness the way you do when you hand Dr. Abbott the chart.

“I’m thinking, and only thinking, not diagnosing–that’s your job. But…it could be acute colonic pseudo-obstruction.” 

You lean against the wall, growing taller on your tippy toes and dimples coming along wide. 

Dr. Abbott flips through the chart. 

“He’s ticking all the boxes, don’t you think? Sudden dietary shift, high fiber, gas buildup, some mild nausea. It’s rare, so I don’t mean to think of zebras instead of horses, but if the labs and tests are coming up empty with more common illnesses, you can claim it’s not impossible in a younger patient, you know? The imaging’s not gonna catch it, and even if it did, no one thinks to look for Early Ogilvie’s in someone his age. 

You let the Dr. blink in the moment of silence. 

He puts the chart down on the counter before leaning against it. 

“You’re serious.” In the moment, you’re almost thankful for him taking his sights off you to watch the sterile glow over the tile, but when he looks back up at you, there’s something new in his eyes. It’s odd, you try your best to be confident in the way you talk, the way you comfort patients and your colleagues, but you don’t think you could be as confident with your eyes as Dr. Abbott is with his, but you hope your confidence has the same effect as his focus. 

That it puts trust in others. 

“Ogilvie’s?”

You shrug before leaning into Dr. Abbott’s space, you only do it for dramatics as you whisper. “Just a theory, but I’d put my money on it. You, good sir, could ask for KUB focused on his distal colon, or maybe a contrast if you want to go fancy. But you probably already know that, because if everyone thinks you’re great, well…what can I do but follow?” 

You think that after this, you have to keep looking in his eyes, because what’s the point of proving yourself to him if you can’t appear confident in your proof? Still, you’re thankful that he’s the one to look away first. 

“If you’re right, excellent job.” 

And there it is again, your veins and bones trying to sit still when it faces a compliment. 

“...Thank you–” 

“Excellent.”

And they possibly can’t when you realize that Dr. Abbott is truly serious in his words. Almost…breathless, but that must be how he sounds when he’s not facetiously bullying you. Still, you have to stop the corners of your brain close in on its believability. 

Impress, but relearn how to accept the praise when you finally do. 

But here…it’s different with Dr. Abbott, and you couldn’t know why, but it’s easy for your system to accept his praise, and maybe it's because it wants it badly enough that it’s willing to ignore his voice. His words. 

“If you’re wrong, I will call on Evans to severely reprimand you.” 

“I’ll start a betting pool when you walk off to order the imaging.” 

Dr. Abbott nods before lifting himself away from you and your sights, and it’s only a matter of this being a calm shift that you’re able to sit next to Dana again. 

You only regret when you meet her knowing look. What could she know? You wouldn’t.

“Aw, shit. You glowing from your diagnostic confidence or from Abbott’s praise when you did whatever the fuck it is you did this time?” 

“...I’m allowed to be proud of when I’m right.” 

“Mhm-hm.” Whatever it is that Dana’s unconvinced about, you can tell she is still when she stands up with two pats to your shoulders. “Sure.”

And when she walks away from you, she’s only more unconvinced when she meets Abbott in the walkway. 

“Her. What is with her? How do…others like her?” 

And Abbott’s only as confused as you when Dana snorts.

————————————————

It was just all...so different in my head.

[jungkoode]

ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS | 03

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: May 12, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: bruising, self punishing, self harm, cleansing one self, ocd portrayal, stressful situations, psych sessions, public healthcare portrayal in the mental health realm

➔ AUTHOR’S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

➔ A/N: HELLO. WELCOME BACK TO THIS NIGHTMARE. Kiki Nation is THRIVING. And by thriving, I mean crumbling under the weight of my own pacing choices. That’s right. You thought you were getting plot? ACTION? MOVEMENT? Wake up, babe. This is Kiki Nation, and here? We move like anxiety on a Sunday night—slow, painful, and entirely internal. But listen… listen. Jokes aside (kind of), this chapter is actually doing a lot even if it looks like nothing is happening. I love writing scenes like this because, while it feels still on the surface, the psychological current is raging underneath. What’s being said without being said? What’s slipping through the cracks? What isn’t Taehyung allowing himself to articulate because if he did, it would crack him open? That’s what this is about. It’s tension. It’s claustrophobia. It’s the mind eating itself alive. We’re diving deep into the obsessive-compulsive loops here—realistic ones. I researched this thoroughly, not only as someone who lives with neurodivergence, but as someone who respects how complex OCD truly is. It’s not just “I like things clean” or “haha I’m quirky about numbers.” OCD is a deeply distressing, all-consuming, reality-warping condition that demands ritual to relieve unbearable tension, even when you know it makes no logical sense. You KNOW it’s irrational. That’s the point. But the alternative feels worse. And that’s what I wanted to capture. The thing about trauma—especially when you’re neurodivergent—is that your brain will cling to anything that feels controllable when real life becomes overwhelming. And sometimes, those fixations grow teeth. What starts as “I need to clean this” becomes “If I don’t, I am disgusting. I am dangerous. I will harm something I care about.” That’s not aesthetic. That’s hell. And yeah… Dr. Bernard trying so hard but still being limited by time, funding, caseloads… It’s a subtle nod to the very real way public healthcare systems stretch mental health care to its absolute breaking point. Because if Taehyung had money? He’d have private therapy, trauma-informed care, daily support. But no. He gets 45 minutes in a tile-counting room twice a month and a prescription that might not even be enough. It’s not fair, and that’s kind of the point. For legal reasons, this is a joke!!! 🥰 (But is it?) So yeah. I hope you’re paying attention to the mirror. The numbers. The language he uses. The way he doesn’t trust reality itself. There’s a reason this chapter feels repetitive. There’s a reason he keeps looping. And if you felt trapped reading it—good. You’re right where I wanted you. (affectionate)Thank you for reading and for trusting me to tell a story that digs a little deeper than surface-level trauma bait. Your comments and support mean everything to me. I read every single one. See you in the next chapter where… oh. Oh no. Yeah. See you there. (awkward finger guns)

➔ SERIES : PREVIOUS | NEXT

KIKI NATION’S DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THIS CHAPTER

PLAYLIST

Purple blooms beneath thumb pad. 

Bruises beneath his finger.

Taehyung presses harder, watching skin darken under pressure. 

Pain flares, then dulls. Not enough. Never enough to convince himself that yesterday was real.

He sits on the edge of his mattress, counting breaths. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

The apartment smells of bleach and nothing else. 

(bleach, he needs to bleach the r—bleach—it’s dirty, he needs bleach)

No food. No life. Just chemical purity and the faint must of walls that never fully dry.

You were there. In his store. Breathing his air.

(impossible impossible impossible)

His fingers find another patch of unmarked skin along his forearm. 

Pinch. Twist. Hold until capillaries burst and blood pools beneath the surface. 

The pain grounds him in reality, but reality itself has become suspect.

How could you exist in the same grimy corner of Paris where he scrubs floors and straightens shelves? How could something so clean touch something so dirty?

Your scent lingers in his memory—sweet almond, rose, powdered sugar. 

Macarons. 

(macarons, macaronsmacaronsmacarons)

The kind sold in patisseries where everything costs too much and the staff watches him like he might pocket something.

He's never wanted macarons before. Never craved anything sweet.

Now his mouth waters at the memory.

(disgusting filthy unworthy)

Seven new bruises track up his arm like stepping stones. 

Evidence that he exists. That yesterday existed. That you might have seen him—really seen him—even through the curtain of hair he uses to hide.

The thought makes his stomach lurch.

He stumbles to the bathroom, falls to his knees before the toilet. Nothing comes up. He hasn't eaten since yesterday morning. Just water. Just enough to keep his body functioning.

The tile is cold against his forehead as he counts again. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. Again. Until the nausea passes.

You'd asked him a question. Spoken directly to him. Your voice precise as cut glass.

‘Why are you helping me?’

He hadn't answered. Couldn't answer. What could he possibly say?

Because your knees shouldn't touch this filthy floor.

Because you're too perfect for this place.

Because I'm not worthy to watch you bend.

The memory of your cotton pads—the dented package he'd first grabbed, the horror that had seized him when he saw the imperfection—makes his fingers twitch. He'd found you a perfect one. Undamaged. Clean. 

It mattered so much in that moment, more than breathing.

He drags himself up from the bathroom floor. Crosses to the sink. Turns the water as hot as it will go and plunges his hands beneath the stream.

The burn is good. Clean. Skin reddens instantly.

He scrubs with the rough side of a sponge until his palms are raw. Until he can't feel the phantom touch of the cotton pad package he handed you. Until he can't remember the way your fingers almost—almost—brushed his gloved ones.

Gloves. He'd been wearing gloves. Thank god. Thank god.

(still dirty still contaminated still worthless)

The mirror above his sink is spotless. He keeps it that way, though he rarely looks into it. Now he forces himself to meet his own eyes.

Dark circles. Hollow cheeks. Hair too long, falling across his face in messy blindish waves.

He looks like a ghost. A shadow. Nothing substantial enough to exist in your world.

Yet you'd looked at him. Tried to see his face. Asked him a question in that voice like winter air.

His stomach clenches again, but differently. Not nausea this time. Something worse. Something like hunger, but not for food.

Macarons.

The word loops in his mind, sweet and forbidden. He wants to taste them now. Wants to know if they taste like you smell. Wants to dissolve them on his tongue and pretend he's breathing the same air that touches your skin.

The thought is so profane it makes him dizzy.

He stumbles back to his bed. Sits on the edge again. Pinches another spot on his arm, harder this time. The pain blooms bright, then fades too quickly.

You'd looked back at him from the doorway. Caught him watching. Your eyes narrowed slightly, calculating. Seeing.

No one sees him. No one notices. He's made sure of it for years.

But you had.

His phone buzzes. Work in an hour. The convenience store waits, its floors already collecting new grime, new evidence of human existence that he'll need to erase.

Will you come back? The question terrifies and exhilarates him.

(come,come you have to comeback)

He should pray you don't. Should beg whatever god might listen to keep you away from his dirty corner of Paris. Away from his contaminated existence.

Instead, he finds himself hoping. Desperately, pathetically hoping.

The bruises on his arm throb in time with his pulse. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Evidence that yesterday was real. That you were real.

That maybe, just maybe, you'll be real again today.

Persistent. 

The word hangs in stale office air. Taehyung's fingers twitch against his thigh.

Twenty-six tiles. Wrong number. Wrong pattern. Wrong room. His eyes trace the edges where white grout meets ceramic, counting again in case he missed one. Twenty-six. Still wrong.

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

"Taehyung? I asked if your contamination fears are still persisting."

Dr. Bernard's voice is distant as a radio playing three rooms away as it filters through the fog. The man sits across from him, pen poised over a notepad that's seen too many patients. His colorful socks peek beneath gray trousers—today they're yellow with small blue bicycles. 

Taehyung notices this instead of meeting his eyes.

"Yes." The word scrapes his throat. Dry. Unused. 

How long has he been sitting here?

"And the medication? You're taking it regularly?"

Taehyung nods. 

Paroxetine. Forty milligrams. White oval pill. Bitter when it touches his tongue if he doesn't swallow fast enough. He takes it every morning at 7:07. Never 7:06. Never 7:08.

(seven seven seven)

"Good, good." Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper like insects crawling. "And the cleaning rituals? Any improvement there?"

Twenty-six tiles. 

The pattern is wrong. 

If he could just add two more, it would be twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect. 

His fingers curl into his palm, nails digging half-moons.

"About the same."

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not an impatient sigh. A tired one. The sigh of a man with sixty-three other patients. Taehyung counted the files once when the secretary stepped away. Sixty-four including him. Too many. Not enough time.

"You mentioned last time you were using bleach on your hands again." Dr. Bernard taps his pen against the notepad. 

Tap-tap-tap. 

Not seven taps. Irregular. Unpredictable. 

“Is that still happening?"

The bleach burns. Burns means clean. Clean means safe. Safe means—

(he won't contaminate you)

Taehyung blinks.

Where did that thought come from?

"Sometimes." His voice sounds hollow even to himself. "When it's necessary."

Dr. Bernard's glasses slip down his nose. He pushes them up with his middle finger, a gesture Taehyung has seen forty-seven times in their sessions together. 

Always the middle finger. Never the index. Never the thumb.

"And what makes it necessary, Taehyung?"

You. Your perfect skin. Your clean leotard. The way you move like water, untouched by the filth of this city.

But he can't say that. Hasn't told Dr. Bernard about you. About the mirror. About the convenience store. About yesterday when you spoke to him and the world tilted on its axis.

"Dirt." The answer is inadequate. He knows this. "Contamination."

Dr. Bernard waits for more. The clock on the wall ticks. Not seven ticks per minute. Sixty. 

Wrong number.

"I see." Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And have there been any changes in your routine lately? Anything new?"

You. 

You are new. You with your rose-macaron scent and perfect posture. You who looked at him—really looked—and didn't immediately turn away.

"No." The lie tastes metallic.

"Taehyung." Dr. Bernard sets his pen down. Leans forward slightly. His chair creaks. "We've been meeting for three years now. I'd like to think I know when something's changed."

Three years. Thirty-six months. Not a multiple of seven. 

Wrong.

"Nothing important." Another lie.

Through the thin wall, he hears another doctor's voice. A woman laughing. Someone crying. The Centre Médico-Psychologique never has enough space, enough privacy, enough time. His forty-five minutes will end in seventeen more. Then Dr. Bernard will see someone else. Someone whose problems might be fixable.

"I've increased your sessions on your Carte Vitale authorization." Dr. Bernard slides a paper across the desk. "Twice monthly instead of once. I think it could help."

Taehyung stares at the paper. The government seal. The stamps. The signature. 

So much bureaucracy to fix a broken mind. 

As if more sessions in this room with twenty-six tiles will stop him from scrubbing his skin raw after thinking of you.

"Thank you." 

He doesn't reach for the paper. His hands are dirty. Always dirty.

Dr. Bernard's phone buzzes. He glances at it, then back at Taehyung. 

“I'm sorry, I need to take this. Just a moment."

As Dr. Bernard steps outside, Taehyung's eyes drift back to the floor. 

Twenty-six tiles. He could fix it. Break two into halves. Make twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect.

(break them break them make it right)

His foot hovers over the tile nearest his chair. One stomp might crack it. 

Fix the pattern. Fix the room. Fix him.

But he doesn't move. Just counts again. And again. And again.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

Dr. Bernard returns, tucking his phone away. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

Taehyung's foot settles back on the floor. Twenty-six tiles. Still wrong. Still broken.

Like him.

"They're wrong."

The words escape before Taehyung can swallow them back. His tongue feels thick, disconnected from his brain.

Dr. Bernard leans forward. "What's wrong, Taehyung?"

"The tiles." His finger points downward, trembling. "Twenty-six. Wrong number."

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

Dr. Bernard follows his gaze to the floor, brow furrowing. Understanding dawns slowly across his face. He sets his notepad aside and kneels, running a finger along the grout lines.

"The tiles—there are twenty-six. Should be twenty-eight." Taehyung's voice cracks. "Seven times four. Or at least twenty-seven. Has a seven in it." 

His heel bounces against the floor. Up-down-up-down. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. The rhythm keeps him tethered when his mind threatens to float away.

Dr. Bernard stands, retrieving a black marker from his desk. Without hesitation, he kneels again and draws a thick line across one tile, dividing it neatly in half.

"There," he says. "Twenty-seven tiles now. Contains a seven."

The marker squeaks against ceramic. 

The line isn't perfectly straight. 

Doesn't matter. 

The number matters. Twenty-seven. Has a seven. Better.

Taehyung's breathing slows. The pressure behind his eyes eases.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Bernard says, returning to his chair. "I've been seeing you for three years. I should have noticed sooner." 

He gestures vaguely around the room. 

“They just changed my office last month. I didn't think to count the tiles before you came in."

Three years. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six sessions. And Dr. Bernard still doesn't understand that everything must be counted. Everything must be checked. Everything must be right.

But he tried. He fixed it. Drew a line. Made twenty-seven.

(better better better not perfect but better)

"Thank you," Taehyung whispers.

Dr. Bernard nods, uncapping his pen again. 

"You mentioned nothing had changed in your routine. But something in your face tells me otherwise." His voice softens. "Sometimes change can trigger episodes like this. Even good changes."

Taehyung's fingers find each other, twisting. Counting knuckles. 

"I found something." The words feel strange in his mouth. Heavy. Dangerous.

Dr. Bernard waits. Patient. 

The clock ticks. The newly-divided tile stares up at them both.

"A window." Taehyung continues. "At work. Behind the storage room."

"At the convenience store?"

Taehyung nods. "Two days ago. Needed cleaning supplies. Went to the back room. Not the main storage. The other one. Where they keep replacements."

His sentences fragment. Break apart like the tile on the floor. 

He can't help it. 

The memory is too bright, too sharp.

"Nobody goes there. Dusty. Dirty."

(filthy filthy filthy)

"And you found a window?" Dr. Bernard prompts.

"Not a window. A mirror." Taehyung's throat constricts. "But it's not a mirror. It's a window. One-way. Looks into the building next door."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. "The building next door to your store is...?"

"Ballet academy." The word 'ballet' feels sacred on his tongue. Too pure for his mouth. "Practice room. Empty usually. But not that day."

His heartbeat accelerates. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

Faster now. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

"Someone was there?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung closes his eyes. Sees you immediately. Your reflection in the mirror as you practiced. Arms extended. Back straight. Perfect. Clean. Untouchable.

"A dancer." 

He can't bring himself to say more. Can't describe the way you moved like water. 

The way your reflection caught in the dirty glass and somehow remained untainted. 

The way he stood, frozen, watching for twenty-seven minutes before his manager called his name.

"I see." Dr. Bernard makes another note. "And this discovery upset your routine?"

Upset. Such a small word for the earthquake that destroyed his carefully constructed world.

"I went back. Yesterday." The confession burns his throat. "After work. Before closing."

Dr. Bernard nods encouragingly. "To see this dancer again?"

Taehyung's nails dig into his palms. "Yes."

"And did you?"

The memory floods back. Not through the mirror this time. Face to face. 

You, entering the convenience store minutes before closing. 

You, scanning shelves with precise movements. 

(dirty dirty dirty can't touch can't let you touch)

"Yes." His voice barely audible now. "She came into the store."

The pronoun feels wrong. Inadequate. You are not a 'she.' You are something else. Something more. Something clean in a filthy world.

"Did you speak to her?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes again. "She spoke to me."

The memory of your voice makes his skin prickle. Cut glass. Winter air. Perfect diction.

"What did she say?"

"Asked why I was helping her." His eyes find the divided tile again. Twenty-seven now. Better. "I picked up her cotton pads. Found her a new package. Undamaged one."

Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And how did that make you feel? This interaction?"

Feel? How could he possibly explain? 

The terror. The exhilaration. The certainty that he was contaminating something perfect just by existing in your presence.

"Wrong," he finally says. "I felt wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Dirty." The word tastes like copper. "She's clean. Perfect. I'm..." 

He gestures at himself. His stained uniform. His raw hands. His existence.

"Taehyung, have you ever heard of religious scrupulosity?"

The question hangs in the air. Taehyung's fingers freeze mid-count against his thigh.

"It's a form of OCD where someone becomes fixated on moral or religious purity. They develop intense fears about contaminating sacred things or being unworthy in a spiritual sense."

Taehyung stares at the divided tile. Twenty-seven. 

His throat closes. Words retreat, curling back inside where they're safe.

(not religious not that simple not that)

Dr. Bernard waits. The silence stretches between them like a thread pulled too tight. When Taehyung doesn't respond, he tries again.

"I'm not suggesting this is exactly what's happening. Just that there might be similarities in how you're viewing this dancer."

Taehyung's jaw tightens. His teeth grind together. The sound fills his skull. Drowns out Dr. Bernard's voice. Drowns out everything except the memory of you. 

Perfect posture. Clean lines. Untouched by the filth surrounding you.

"She's just a person," Dr. Bernard says gently. "A talented dancer, perhaps, but human. Like everyone else."

Wrong. So wrong. 

You're not like everyone else. Not like him. Not dirty. Not broken. Not wrong.

Taehyung shakes his head. Once. Twice. 

Seven times.

"Taehyung?" Dr. Bernard leans forward. "Are you still with me?"

Words scatter like roaches when light hits them. He can't catch them. Can't form them. His tongue feels swollen, useless. He manages a nod.

"I'm not concerned about you seeing someone dance twice," Dr. Bernard clarifies. "That's perfectly normal. I'm interested in how intensely it seems to have affected you."

(not normal never normal nothing normal)

"You helped her pick up some cotton pads. That's a kind gesture, not contamination."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists. Dr. Bernard doesn't understand. Can't understand. Hasn't seen you. Hasn't felt the wrongness of his existence next to yours.

"Not..." The word scrapes his throat. "Not kind."

"No? What was it then?"

"Necessary." Another word claws its way out. "Had to."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper. Seven scratches. Taehyung counts them.

"Had to protect her from the dirty floor?"

Taehyung nods. His chest tightens. The room shrinks. Twenty-seven tiles. Focus on the tiles.

"Taehyung, I've known you for three years. Your contamination fears typically center on yourself—protecting yourself from outside dirt. This seems different."

Different. Yes. 

Everything is different now. The world tilted when he first saw you through that grimy one-way mirror. Tilted further when you walked into the store. Spoke to him. Looked at him.

"Let's back up," Dr. Bernard suggests. "Tell me about finding this mirror."

Taehyung's eyes close. Behind them, he sees the storage room. Dust motes floating in stale air. Cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly. The wall that wasn't a wall.

"Cleaning." His voice barely audible. "Needed bleach."

"For the store?"

A nod.

"And you found this mirror in the storage room?"

"Back room." The distinction matters. "Not main storage. Nobody goes there."

"And through this mirror, you could see into the ballet academy next door?"

"Practice room." The words come easier now. Focused on facts. Not feelings. "Empty usually. But not then."

"And you saw this dancer practicing."

"Yes."

"For how long did you watch?"

Taehyung's fingers twitch. "Twenty-seven minutes." 

The truth slips out before he can stop it.

Dr. Bernard's eyebrows rise slightly. "You counted?"

"Always count." 

"And then what happened?"

"Manager called. Had to go back."

"But you returned the next day?"

Shame burns his cheeks. He nods.

"And then she came into your store?"

"Before closing." The memory floods back. "Accident."

"The cotton pads?"

"Yes."

"And you helped her."

"Had to." His voice cracks. "Floor is dirty. She's not."

Dr. Bernard studies him. "Taehyung, when was the last time you spoke to someone outside of work or these sessions?"

The question catches him off guard. He blinks. Tries to remember. Can't.

"This connection you feel—" Dr. Bernard chooses his words carefully "—it might be intensified by isolation. Human beings need interaction."

(not human not normal not worthy)

"I'm not suggesting anything inappropriate is happening," Dr. Bernard continues. "Just that your reaction seems disproportionate to two brief encounters."

Disproportionate. As if there could be a proportionate response to witnessing divinity in a convenience store.

"She's clean," Taehyung whispers. The only truth that matters.

"Everyone seems clean to someone who feels contaminated, Taehyung."

Taehyung flinches. His vision tunnels. The twenty-seven tiles blur. His breathing quickens. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Too fast. Too shallow.

"I think we should focus on your isolation in our next session," Dr. Bernard says, glancing at the clock. "And perhaps revisit your medication dosage."

Taehyung doesn't respond. Can't. Words have abandoned him completely now. 

His mind retreats to the only safe place it knows—counting. Tiles. Breaths. Heartbeats. 

Seconds until he can leave this room with its wrong-then-fixed floor and return to his apartment where everything is arranged in sevens and nothing beautiful exists to be contaminated by his presence.

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not impatient. Sad. "Our time is almost up. Is there anything else you want to tell me about these encounters?"

Taehyung stares at his raw hands. 

What could he possibly say? That when you looked at him, really looked, something inside him recognized something inside you? That for one brief moment, he felt seen instead of invisible? That helping you felt like prayer?

He shakes his head.

"Alright." Dr. Bernard stands. "Same time in two weeks, then. And Taehyung?" He waits until Taehyung looks up. "Try to talk to someone. Anyone. Even just to ask the time or comment on the weather. Human connection matters."

Connection. 

As if someone like him could connect with anyone. 

Especially someone like you.

The session ends. Taehyung leaves without speaking again. Steps carefully over the divided tile. Twenty-seven now. Better. Not perfect.

Like him.

goal: 250 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @billy-jeans23 @calmyourtitts7

© jungkoode 2025. | banner and dividers by dailynnt

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[magnetothemagnificent]

So tired of the American culture around oral hygiene. You see it most in toothpaste or other similar dental products commercials. It's not "buy our toothpaste because it prevents painful infections", it's "be dentist ready" and ads showing people doing the "tissue test" to see how white their teeth are, as if the only reason you should practice good oral hygiene is because you're worried about the approval of others.

It's just...so harmful.

Oral hygiene is important, not because your teeth have to be perfectly white or because your dentist will judge you (they most likely won't), but because your mouth is part of your body and your health is important. The state of your mouth can impact the rest of your body, oral infections can become life-threating or impact your ability to properly eat or speak without pain. That's why you should care about oral hygiene- because it's your body and you deserve to live with as minimal pain and discomfort as possible- not because of some shallow beauty ideals.

I'm just so tired of the mainstream message of oral hygiene as being purely aesthetic. It's not. It's healthcare.

[doberbutts]

I am privileged to have health insurance- compared to someone who does not. I am also disadvantaged in that I must pay part of my paycheck to obtain insurance and after receiving care compared to someone on government-supplied healthcare. Additionally, due to the way healthcare is supplied via income, I am also privileged in other ways compared to someone who is on government healthcare. My income is higher- and thus the thing which disqualifies me from state healthcare also opens other doors to me in regards to food, housing, and especially luxury items.

But none of these things make me an oppressor of those without health insurance, or those with less income. I can be- but oppression is action, not existence. The way I vote, the way I speak and act, the people and causes and organizations I support- those are actions, and those can certainly further oppression. I become an oppressor by voting for politicians who gut healthcare protections and benefits. But the act of using my insurance card when I check in for my annual exam is less an act of oppression than it is a- non-consensual- participation in an oppressive system by which every resident within my country is caged.

A system of oppression affects everyone who lives under it- and as a result it is a shared burden to labor to break free of its chains. It is not enough to recognize one's participation- however coerced- in the system. If we truly want to be rid of it, such a task requires all of us who recognize its harm and our roles within the system to actively choose to enact changes which dismantle said system at its root. Even at the cost of our relative positions of privilege- pushing for a single-payer universal healthcare system means I will no longer be privileged over those without insurance. But it will eliminate both the large portions of my income devoted to medical expenses, as well as those who have gone without to finally be able to access the medicine and doctors they have been unable to afford.

To many, the concept of privilege is one that implies things are better for those who are privileged, and worse for those who are disadvantaged. The idea of losing privilege then becomes one in which things become worse for you if this occurs. But in the example of access to affordable healthcare, losing my privilege is a net gain, not a loss. I am no longer at a position of advantage- at least, not in that way- over those who do not have insurance. But- that is because we all have insurance, and better yet my position has actually improved along with the disadvantaged, as neither us us now faces the looming medical debt a single injury or illness may incur. In losing my privilege, the world has improved for everyone under the system.

But what happens when things are not so clear cut? After all- there are only so many variables to determine someone's insured status, and this is a conversation that has been building for as long as health insurance companies have existed. What happens when there's more nuance- what happens when this privilege is more transient, more changeable, less solidly defined? What happens when the question of privilege does not have a simple answer of "have" or "have not"?

I am mixed race- black, indigenous, and Irish. I've received a multitude of guesses within my everyday life, guesses containing many different ethnicities, races, and origins with varying levels of correctness. The only common thread seems to be "not white". Well, the Irish are considered white in this era, and I'm Irish. But the tone of my skin is clearly "of color", so it's difficult to say that I would experience any white privilege. Being mixed race, I'm usually recognized as black, but I am also lighter skinned than many within the black diaspora, but neither am I white-passing as most of these guesses do not assume that I have a white parent. To add onto that, I am not usually recognized as indigenous in my everyday life, unless I am interacting directly with other indigenous people.

I am, of course, more than willing to say I have light-skinned privilege, though that is distinctly separate from white privilege. But who is privileged in a comparison of two severely oppressed demographics? Does America's Native population have systemic privilege over America's black diaspora? Or is it the other way around? What happens when we recognize that both demographics can- and have- contributed to each other's oppression? Or that both demographics have also lifted each other up out of the mire that is racial discrimination? How do we address the participation- however forced- in the system of white supremacy while also dismantling said system to the betterment of all? And how do we prevent ourselves from acting like starving dogs, fighting over scraps while those who created the system eat like kings?

Similarly- what are we meaning by saying the word "privilege"? In the example of healthcare, the ability to pay for an expensive doctor visit is a clear privilege compared to someone who will quickly become bankrupt in the face of a medical emergency. When we discuss this as a matter of race, we see preferential treatment in medical and employment situations. We see more political and social weight. We see protections in education and finance. We see differences in policing and hate crimes. How do we measure who has it "better" when comparing two populations with centuries of deep racial trauma? How can we say who has it worse when both races are historically- and even into the present day- treated as a subhuman plague only good for slave labor and exotic trophy brides?

I am light-skinned, and- while usually recognizably black- somewhat ambiguously "of color". In this, there are ways in which my life differs from my relatives who are darker skinned, more unambiguously black or Native. I am still oppressed, I still am forced to operate under the system of white supremacy. I may still utilize my position under this system in a way that furthers the oppression of those very same relatives. And, if I want things to get better in a meaningful way, I must be willing to give up my relative privilege and recognize that position I hold in order to bring about change by dismantling the system at its root.

At what point does it stop mattering who has it "better" or "worse"- and matter more instead the recognition of one's place within these systems, and how one may be equipped to bring about a change that improves the lives of many? What matters more- determining who the most oppressed person in the room is? Or recognizing one's own complacency in a system that hurts them, and finding a way to break the pattern? If we can level the playing field- such as with the healthcare example- would that not be better for all of us?

[crossdreamers]

The British Medical Association calls the UK Supreme Court transphobic ruling "scientifically illiterate"

The British Medical Association (BMA) has strongly criticized the UK Supreme Court’s recent ruling on transgender rights.

The union branch said it “condemns scientifically illiterate rulings from the Supreme Court, made without consulting relevant experts and stakeholders, that will cause real-world harm to the trans, non-binary and intersex communities in this country”.

The ruling states that trans women are not legally recognized as women under the Equality Act, allowing their exclusion from single-sex spaces if deemed “proportionate”.

While some politicians and gender-critical campaigners have welcomed the decision, the BMA argues that it lacks scientific basis and was made without consulting medical experts. The union’s resident doctors passed a motion condemning the ruling, warning that it could negatively impact trans healthcare and rights.

The Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) has issued interim guidance following the ruling, stating that trans women should not be permitted to use women’s facilities in workplaces and public spaces. Critics argue that this guidance forces trans individuals to reveal their gender history, violating their right to privacy.

Activists and medical professionals have expressed concerns about the broader implications of the ruling, fearing increased discrimination and challenges in accessing appropriate healthcare. The debate continues as the BMA prepares to finalize its official stance at an upcoming conference in June.

The Independent has more.

Illustration: Bonilla1879

[irrevocablecondition]

the thing is, we all react differently.

no one person's response to this ruling is the "right" one, we are All going to react differently - not just because we have different lived experiences or different backgrounds, but because we are, at our core, different people.

if you decide to continue posting marauders/hp content? you are valid.

if you decide to take a step back? you are valid.

if you decide to read and write without the social aspect? you are valid.

it's all so valid. ultimately, we are carrying guilt that isn't ours. jkr should hold this guilt. it isn't ours to carry, but we are carrying it.

you are not a better person for leaving this fandom behind, and you're not a worse person for sticking with it.

this fandom means so much to so many of us. so many of us find ourselves and keep ourselves in this space, and you can't be faulted for wanting to retain that safety. as long as you acknowledge the potential harm and do your best to avoid it, then you're all good.

for me personally, idk what i'm doing. i've been struggling for months to figure out my place here. these rulings and laws seem metaphorical until you're dealing with it. for months i've had No healthcare. not hrt related i mean in terms of my seizure medication and my heart condition - i've had nothing for months because i am trans, and i don't know what to do about that. i was stripped of all my healthcare via the nhs, and being in This marauders space has been difficult because i know that, by posting media related to jkr, i am promoting a person that has aided in that.

i don't know what i'm doing. i don't know if i'm leaving or staying because for all the harm, i have witnessed so much good too. i mean, even just the fact i present as a trans man who wears makeup online is unfathomable. that isn't something i did prior to this space. i'm not ashamed of the sound of my voice, or worried that i'm too fem in my presentation as a whole- this space has done so much for me.

and in light of the ruling, there's a lot of negativity. but for every negative post there's ten people who came to Me first for support or for comfort or to express thanks and,,, that's not something i can give up so easily. that community. that drive. that helpfulness.

i, like many others, have no idea what direction i am going to go in this space as a result of all of this.

but what i do know is that this space has so much positivity, and so much happiness, and nothing can erase that.

it's the balance of positivity and negativity that we are trying to figure out, not the existence of positivity as a whole. because this space does so much good on an individual level, and so much harm on a mass level, and it's that balance that is hard to achieve.

but we will get there. individually. because the question "what do we do now?" is different for every single person. regardless of what you choose, i am holding your hand throughout it all.

and regardless of what i choose to do, i am so endlessly and utterly grateful to have found the space that i have, and i am endlessly grateful to - as a trans man living in scotland - have experienced all of the love that i have <33

it will take a while to find stability, but this space is everything. and i am glad that y'all are here, in whatever capacity.

[crowboy-bebop]

U.S.-based friends! For no particular reason, I'm compiling a list of resources that might be helpful to people in the coming four-ish years or so.

Medical Resources

Medical Information Removed By The Trump Administration

Jessica Valenti's Substack - a collection of the pages removed from the CDC's website. Includes documents on contraception and reproductive rights, sexual health, and intimate partner violence.

HRT

Trans Harm Reduction - website for HRT information, such as source testing, information on safe injection practices and disposal, and resources for sourcing injection suppplies. They also share links to healthcare resources.

DIY HRT: Everything I Can Legally Tell You by Lily Alexandre - information on self-medicating without a prescription. If this is unavailable, PLEASE let me know.

Reproductive

Plan C - an online database of telehealth providers, community networks, and websites that provide abortion pills by mail

Legit.Clinic - an easy way to check if a clinic is actually a crisis pregnancy center; uses Reproaction's database listed below

Crisis Pregnancy Centers

These are anti-choice organizations, usually run by or in connection to churches, who use misleading tactics and fearmongering to scare people out of seeking abortions. They often advertise things like "abortion counseling" (which is really just talking people out of abortion), and abortion pill "reversal." Their main purpose is to either scare you out of seeking an abortion, or to stall you long enough that the process to get an abortion is more difficult.

Reproaction's Anti-Abortion Pregnancy Center Database - an online database of anti-abortion "crisis pregnancy centers" that rely on misleading information to talk pregnant people out of getting an abortion

Expose Fake Clinics - an online resource for leaving reviews of crisis pregnancy centers and their misleading claims

Name and Gender Changes

Federal

SSA Sex Designation Change Questionnaire (archived) - as of Jan 26th 2025, this page has been taken down on the official Social Security website. That does NOT mean you cannot change your gender marker, it is just being purposefully obscured. One thing to note; even before the current administration, there was no option for an unspecified gender designation, so X will not be an option unfortunately.

Social Security Card Replacement - this is the form you will need to fill out in order to change your name or gender designation.

State

A4TE's ID Documents Center - state-specific information on how to change your name and gender marker on ID documents like birth certificates, driver's licenses, etc. Also has information on passports, but that is unfortunately outdated as of January 26 2025. (thanks, @wannabeast13!)

Miscellaneous

r/DataHoarder - a subreddit dedicated to archiving digital information. They've been heavily focused on documenting information that has been removed due to the Trump administration.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. I'm compiling resources as I find them. If you have anything you think should be added, send me a message!

Lastly,

It's Okay To Take A Step Back

Don't let the continuous onslaught of bad news send you into a doom spiral! Take a deep breath. Get some water. Log off, get together with friends, join or start local communities. The world isn't all bad, even if it feels like it is. The most important thing right now is that we stay together and not let the bad overwhelm us into apathy.

[sirfrogsworth]

I do not fucking care what kind of home life Elon Musk went through. Are you aware of the millions of lives that he is actively ruining? He could be going to therapy about it but instead he is choosing to actively continue the things that he’s doing and the life he is currently living. I have a brother who went through zero trauma with absolutely adoring doting parents and he still turned out to be a child molesting incel white supremacist because that’s what he chose over and over again to dedicate his life to. Are you going to tell me to be all sad for him now that he fucked up his own life diddling kids? You want to feel bad for him? Go fuck yourself. Stop downplaying the harm that people are choosing to participate in.

I am disabled and housebound.

I will die without Social Security and Medicare.

I am aware of the stakes.

My brother had the same parents as me. Best parents anyone could hope for. Loving and supportive. They made great sacrifices to help us.

His wife was abused as a child. It caused her to be paranoid, untrusting, and she was extremely manipulative as a defense mechanism. She slowly brainwashed and corrupted my brother. She abused him. Then he abused and neglected myself and our loving parents.

It seems you were traumatized as well. And now your trauma is fueling your anger toward me. You used it to say hurtful things and you used your trauma to justify hurting me.

It's trauma all the way down.

I understand some of the anger you have toward your brother. Watching someone who won the parental lottery turn into an abuser was heartbreaking. I can't imagine how hard that must be for you. But shitty parents are not the only path to being an awful person. Indoctrination and radicalization are very prevalent forces. Especially with the Jordan Petersons and Andrew Tates of the world. Your brother most likely did not just turn into what he is. There could be trauma you are unaware of. Or he could have just been sucked in by nefarious influences that offered him something he desperately wanted and then they used that to instill bigotry.

"Clean your room and hate women."

"Do sit ups and eat healthy then man up and assert your dominance."

I don't think I can fix my brother. He's too far gone. And it sounds like yours should be in prison if he isn't already. But it was important to me that I understood how my brother got to the place where he could abuse me and my parents. It helped me process my own trauma. I am not saying you need to do the same. I'm just telling you it helped me.

I am still very angry and I still struggle with my trauma. I will probably never forgive him. I hold him fully responsible for the choices he made despite his abusive situation. I am not excusing any behavior just because I feel empathy.

Understanding how bad people become bad people helps me. I also think it helps our society identify what we need to fix in order to help prevent more Elons from manifesting. It's clear that trauma is a huge factor. Poverty, poor education, indoctrination seem like huge variables too. Access to mental healthcare seems vital.

The nature vs. nurture debate has been going on for a long time. Science seems to think they are both factors. Good parents raise bad kids. Bad parents raise good kids. That's true. But there are more factors beyond that and genetic predisposition is rare.

Elon was abused. But he also grew up in apartheid South Africa. His entire environment was based on dehumanizing Black folks. Then he went straight from there to hanging with shitty white tech bros. His bad behavior was probably praised and encouraged and his peers saw it as a good thing.

Could he have overcome his trauma and influences? I don't know. The people who have managed it usually struggle with it their entire lives. They need therapy. They need a good support system. They need to be vigilant in their decision-making. Making good choices is not always easy. And expecting everyone to have that willpower is unrealistic.

If you think I am downplaying harm, I'm going to strongly disagree. What I am hoping to do is figure out a way to prevent future harm. I want traumatized people to have the resources to safely process what happened to them so it is easier for them to make good choices. And I'd really like to prevent trauma from happening in the first place.

But I still very much want the rich and powerful who make awful choices to face consequences.

The empathy I have felt toward Elon and Trump equates to a few flashes here and there. It is minuscule compared to what I feel for my trans friends, migrants, and the people facing war and genocide.

This is a fucked up situation. Most of us have never faced this intensity of fascism so close to home. It's confusing and angering and it is hard to process.

I get why you are angry with me.

And I get why that other person felt dehumanizing was necessary.

This is all novel and expecting people to automatically know the best way to deal with it is also unrealistic. People were pretty hard on that person. But I empathize with them as well. This is fucking scary. And fighting the instinct to just view people as evil entities is hard. I struggle with it too. I have to remind myself that Elon is a very human dipshit. And perhaps those flashes of empathy help me do that.

Just know I want all of us to get through this.

[the-littlest-goblin]

I know we been knew that fandom in general is terrible at tolerating gray areas, but I find myself beyond irritated with this song and dance when it comes to the Pitt because the fallibility of the characters is the whole entire point.

The show is not subtle about its themes. Every single episode and character arc is hammering home that impossible, high-stakes judgement calls are an occupational hazard and a torturous burden placed on healthcare workers, and they can never be 100% sure in the moment if they're making the right decision. Sometimes you order a BiPAP and you accidentally make the patient's condition worse; sometimes you do a REBOA against literally every superior's instruction and you save a life. You do your best in the moment, and it's only after the fact, once the results come in, that people will decide whether you're a stupidly cocky student or a heroic cowboy-doctor.

That trade-off is present even when it's not life-or-death. Taking extra time and care to get to know your patients is great for the ones already in the bed; it's not great for the ones still out in the waiting room. Which type of patient satisfaction should we prioritize? Do you involve law enforcement before you know a crime has been committed? When does preemptive action prevent harm and when does it cause more? How do you adhere to "Do no harm" when someone always gets shortchanged no matter what decision you make?

Hell, the inherent unfairness is baked into the very premise of a teaching hospital: these patients didn't necessarily sign up for their once-in-a-lifetime emergency to be a med student's teachable moment. Nobody really wants a newbie doing their stitches—but also, practical experience is an absolute must for medical training. Without interns now, you can't have experts later, so here we are.

So with all that in mind, I don't think debating which character was Right or Wrong in a given scene has ever been a less productive way of engaging with a show. For all I disdain the mentality that refuses to engage with the Trolley Problem because "the REAL problem is whoever tied those people to the tracks in the first place!!1!" sometimes you actually are supposed to consider the bigger, systemic picture. The Pitt is inviting us to engage with very real problems with the state of healthcare in modern America by showcasing how it's literally impossible for these doctors to make the perfect decisions every time, and no it's not fair. To anyone.

idk I just think in light of that very clear message, fighting over which blorbo was the rudest or made the worst fuck up or whose reaction to stress and trauma is more valid is the height of media illiteracy.

[mariacallous]

Tens of thousands of people joined the Pride march in Bucharest on Saturday in the largest-ever such parade to take place in Romania.

About 30,000 people, many waving rainbow flags and chanting slogans calling for solidarity and tolerance, took to the streets of Bucharest on Saturday in a march to celebrate the diversity and visibility of the LGBTQ community in Romania.

It was the biggest such march in the 20 years since the LGBTQ Pride march was first organised in the country, according to the organisers.

The first Pride in Bucharest emerged in 2005 as a defiant gesture following the decriminalization of homosexuality. But only a few hundred participants then braved the threats and hostility.

Over the next two decades, the event has been transformed into an annual cultural festival featuring more than just the parade but also films, debates, art shows and sports events.

On Saturday, attendees marched from the government building to a park in front of parliament. Rainbow flags waved, music played, and banners called for civil union rights, transgender healthcare access and legal protections

The mood mixed festivity with advocacy: dance, cheers, and determined slogans, like “Love is the worst feeling you could hate”, and “Equality in love, equality in inheritance. Civil partnership for all”.

“This year’s Pride, regardless of how many people attended, shows that our protest has taken root in the public consciousness. We are now a strong presence in public life, and our visibility can no longer be ignored or downplayed,” said Victor Ciobanu, director of the Accept Association, one of the march’s organisers.

While the event itself was peaceful, a few protesters carrying cartons of eggs were forcibly removed from the route.

A small counter-demonstration, calling itself “The March for Normality”, was held earlier in another part of Bucharest, where participants carrying religious icons and crosses called for an Orthodox Christian nation.

The influential Romanian Orthodox Church, to which more than 85 per cent of Romanians belong, according to census data, has repeatedly spoken out against homosexuality as a sin, and against civil partnerships.

On Thursday, it expressed disapproval of the Bucharest Pride march, which fell on the eve of the major religious feast of Pentecost. The Church called the event “a provocative and entirely inappropriate act”, which was harmful mainly to children and young people.

Romania decriminalised homosexuality in 2001, decades later than other parts of the EU. It remains one of the most restrictive countries regarding LGBT relationships in the European Union.

Recent attempts to introduce civil partnership have stalled in parliament, blocked by opposition from religious groups and conservative lawmakers. The Romanian Constitution defines the family as a freely consented marriage between spouses, without specifying gender.

The European Court of Human Rights in 2023 told Romania to provide legal recognition to same-sex couples but implementation has yet to begin.

Surveys show younger Romanians are more supportive of equal rights, suggesting a slow cultural change. But the political class remains cautious, wary of a backlash from a largely Orthodox Christian electorate.

[v88sy]

Lmao but for real. Idk if it's bts drama with Ryan or something but it's getting more and more obvious. Bobby, his captain just died and the guy is just over there offering a cookie to Ravi in these trying times like an extra on set with a blank expression on his face.

I refuse to feel bad for enjoying this situation. Bvddie shippers have made their own bed. I don't like Ryan at all, but even I can admit there's only so much toxicity an actor can take. Buck was at least allowed to exist in his own right in their eyes even if they couldn't stand him canonically dating a man (so much for being LGBT warriors and caring for representation!). But the way they're obsessed with Eddie and try to bring every plot he has back to him being "gay" is exhausting and weird as fuck.

Imagine being an actor and being excited for the storyline your character is getting that season and your fans are just like "we don't care, when are Buck and Eddie going to fuck on screen tho?" Not saying Eddie's plots have always been exciting at all, lord knows they've done some stupid shit with the character, but still. Eddie arguably had the most interesting SL in years while trying to mend his relationship with Chris and they could not have cared less because it meant he was in Texas and not bending over for Buck. I wouldn't blame Ryan if he wants out, if his acting in this ep is any indication, his heart just isn't in it anymore.

I didn't mind Eddie at first, I really didn't. But, it kind of feels like after Shannon died, the writers just...didn't know what to do with him. His entire existence became about grief without any real action to address it or deal with it. I get it, grief never really goes away, but you can't just Fight Club your way out of it either.

I often wonder if the writers intended to write him as insufferable and selfish as they have. He says things to hurt others and never reflects or takes accountability. It's been talked about ad nauseum here, but his friendship with Buck is incredibly one sided. Again, I don't know what's more scary...to think this was all by design...or that it wasn't.

And, since we're just going for it here, Ryandrew Tateman absolutely hasn't done himself any favors here. I know what he did. You know he did. And I wish I could say that was the only thing, or even the most recent.

On a personal note, I've worked in healthcare for 20 years, including the height of covid, so being an anti vaxx/anti covid vaxx is an instant 'fuck off' from me.

And the memes he's been sharing about Pete/Bobby? Salty edgelord.

You make excellent points about anything and everything being boiled down to Gay Eddie™ in some people's minds. Not even bi or demi, or any other shade of queer. It has to be gay, and Buck has to serve as the trad wife self insert surrogate. Which, really makes me question their motives, because it ain't representation. We already got that, and have since day one. Not that they'd ever know.

Look, it's very clear by now that I'm not his biggest fan by a long shot, but it's absolutely disgusting that people want to disregard his body autonomy by saying things like "it doesn't matter what he wants, they're gonna force him to do bddie anyways because it's what the people want".

No, they don't, and honestly, that makes me wonder about your views on consent. The role would involve, at the very least, kissing Oliver, (not that I'd mind myself, but that's another topic for another day) so...yes. It absolutely is his choice, as it should always be when engaging in contact with someone, acting job or not.

And yeah, I'll give it to you that he's probably tired as fuck about being reduced to nothing more than "the guy who absolutely must be gay because *insert harmful stereotype here.*"

And that's in addition to having every. single. interview. harp on the ship that he has said repeatedly that he doesn't want to do, for actually valid reasons, assuming those are the real reasons and he's not just blowing smoke up our ass.

So, yeah, I don't blame him for wanting an out, but I also don't think we should be blamed for wanting to be able to enjoy our show and the fandom as a whole once again.

All that being said...are you trying to put me in jail, katey 😂