#diagnoses are constructions

[softness-and-shattering]

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Vent post

Wow i didnt realise there was a tag limit

[neuropoppins]

Autism & Gender

How is it that sometimes observations & awareness can sometimes lead to blindness & denial 😢

[1000dactyls]

I wanna know if you have any thoughts on Valka and Sroicks parenting and how that affects hiccup? Because I'm loving so much of your content rn, especially your drawings!! But when I see stuff like Tgirl Hiccup while I think they would be supportive, I don't think they would be ... the best because their not really the best. Like ofc they tried even Val when she came back, but it doesn't and won't ever make up for everything else it's so complicated, and nuisanced would love to hear your thoughts!!

Im going to break this post into addressing stoick and valka separately because valka is such a non-entity in hiccup and stoick’s familial life. valka’s section will be underneath the ‘read more’

But I definitely agree! Unfortunately for Hiccup (and also not to project ijbol), it’s so hard because stoick’s best isn’t enough. Oh, stoick tries! He tries so hard — between the movies and the shows, he so clearly cares for his son. But he can never be just Hiccup’s dad; Stoick is the Chief of Berk before he’s Hiccup’s father, and both he and Hiccup know that. Hiccup grows up self sufficient and is used to a lonely home. The kind of free reign that he gets (and the resulting knee-jerk reaction he has to any kind of responsibility after 15 years of said free reign) doesn’t make for great conditions to cultivate a healthy, loving, traditional parental relationship

Still — i think stoick is more supportive than we give him credit for, at least going off the RoB/DoB characterizations. (Again, I haven’t finished watching RTTE, so Im not gonna speak for anything there.) When Hiccup makes moves for more freedom and responsibility, even as early as s01e01 “How to Start a Dragon Academy”, Stoick works with Hiccup to grant him that freedom. He makes attempts to connect to his son, albeit misguided and inevitably circling back to his own interests/role as the chief of Berk and not just Hiccup’s dad. For example, s01e07 “How to Pick your Dragon” shows Stoick ending up listening to Hiccup about getting a dragon, even though he mostly gets a dragon because it further suits his interests as a chief, which he realizes on the flight Toothless and Hiccup take him on. Which also leads to the core conflict of the episode! Because Stoick’s attempts to understand Hiccup are ultimately rooted in his own narrow perception of the world, that there is a Right way and Wrong way to do things, and Hiccup’s way is most definitely not the right way.

But Stoick listens. Over time, he picks up the signs when his child is frustrated and genuinely asks how he can help (s02e15 “A Tale of Two Dragons” 3 options talk). And after the events of the first movie, Stoick makes more attempts to involve Hiccup in his going-ons, such as the portrait of the chief’s family or contacting Johann to find a beloved childhood plushie. So i think stoick tries, and his best isn’t enough, so thank god hiccup isn’t dependent on only stoick and the both of them know this. And just because the both of them know this doesn’t mean that stoick doesn’t try to improve their relationship at all. In the end, he’s just really set in his own ways and his own traditions.

So in a world where Hiccup is trans, I do think Stoick is supportive no matter what direction Hiccup ends up going. Is he confused? Yes, always, because there isn’t a very established tradition even if Berk does have a history of trans folk. I think stoick has to try really really hard, and he messes up a lot in the beginning. Like, you know when your parents are trans affirming in a really weird and even insulting way? That happens a lot for Hiccup and Stoick. But they work together and Stoick works to try and get on Hiccup’s level, whether that means sending terror-mail to Johann to inquire about trans literature or gender-affirming clothes or dialing Gothi to move Hiccup’s t/e prescription to the front of the line.

……..argh, Valka.

Of course Valka tried when she came back, but the conscious decision to stay away for twenty years and miss some of the most important milestones in your child’s life says a lot, and I think Hiccup also knows that. Especially because of how similar they are, even though Valka would immediately accept and adore and absolutely love Hiccup and all his Hiccup-ness right off the bat… I think he’s aware of how different and better his life could’ve been with Valka’s understanding presence. In the end, one parent stayed and tried their best. And one didn’t really try at all, not until they reconnected again.

And like! I dont think Valka and Hiccup would ever be as close as Stoick and Hiccup were. Like it is one thing to idolize your parent in absentia and build up this idealistic wholesome perfect image of who they are, getting your characterization from their partner who never got over them even after 20 years. And it is another thing to meet that parent and realize… wow! They also don’t measure up to what I needed them to be as a child.

And so for all of Valka’s understanding, for all of the easiness it is for Valka to understand Hiccup, especially in a world where Hiccup is trans — it’s not Valka who had to deal with the bureaucracy of Hiccup’s gender change, nor aided in the social transition for people Hiccup has spent his entire life with. It’s not Valka who asked uncertain, blunt and somewhat invasive questions about Hiccup’s new identity, or found weird and strange ways to support it. It’s not Valka who would’ve gotten an entirely new wardrobe commissioned or talked to Gothi about medical transition.

Like, I think Valka tries, and it’s easy for her to understand the idea and support Hiccup. But i dont think she’d ever be Hiccup’s first choice when it comes to questions about who s/he is, not when there are people who stayed and tried much harder than her, and know far more about Hiccup than she ever did and maybe will.

[eggy-tea]

wild when someone’s kid gets a diagnosis and the parent’s response is “there’s nothing wrong with them, i’ve had those same struggles my whole life! they keep inventing new things to be wrong with you! no one’s allowed to just be normal these days.” you are so close to getting it, friend

[thriftdyke]

feel like some people need to understand that just bc a word is used as part of a diagnostic label / criteria in the dsm doesn’t mean it doesn’t have like. meaning outside of that

[no-more-rqs]

i know this is going to sound insane but hear me out: astrothetherian/remikzthetherian has done a very very good job of pointing out something about the wider endo/pro-endo community. (i am saying this as a pro-endo pwDID who does not like astro at all. im also very aware that none of this is the point xe's trying to make, i know xe's just saying this stuff to get people pissed off and using "transid" as an insult, but my point still stands)

claiming endos are faking being systems? people can handle that. claiming endos are faking being trans? people can handle that. claiming endos are transid? suddenly everyone is screaming crying throwing up shitting their pants because willogenic/tulpagenic systems are NOT transid its DIFFERENT how DARE you!!!!!!! to the point where every single other argument is ignored in favor of just yelling "IM NOT PRO-TRANSID STOP SAYING THAT!!!!!!!" to someone who is most likely a grifter/troll (not saying astro isnt genuinely anti-endo, just that ae's doing this as ragebait to get people upset. as it literally says in aer bio lmao)

the pro-endo community genuinely hates any and all transids SO much that anything that even implies that theyre similar to transids is an instant argument ender that causes them to immediately get pissed off and start screaming and crying about how much they HATE transids and would NEVER support transids because transids are EVIL and "making headmates" is VERY VERY different from "making headmates" because one of those is willogenic (good) and the other is transplural (evil) and if you choose the wrong word youre a HORRIBLE PERSON

in this case, you cant even make the argument of "its not transitioning so you cant use 'trans'" because... yes it is? what? do you know what "transition" means? the dictionary definition of "transition" is "changing from one state or condition to another". would you agree that being a singlet and then creating headmates to make yourself a system is changing from one state (singlet) to another (plural)? yes? then that is by definition a transition. and someone who is in the process of creating headmates would, by definition, be transitioning. why is "transition" such an evil, horrible concept to people? transitioning is something people do practically every day. you put your hair in a ponytail? thats transitioning from one condition to another. you took a shower? thats transitioning too. you ate food? guess what, thats also transitioning. "transition" is not a word owned by the trans community, it is not offensive to say "i just transitioned schools" or "im transitioning jobs right now" so why is it so horrible and disgusting to say "i transitioned from being a singlet to a system"? some transplural people make it seem like its the exact same as being transgender, but the term doesnt; the prefix "trans" isnt exclusive to trans people.

yes im aware that there are problems with transid communities, however, that doesnt mean the definition doesnt still fit. "transplural" is literally just "transitioning to be plural". as someone who was in radqueer communities, it was pretty well-established that "transplural" was very different from "transDID" or "transOSDD". while they have similarities, "transplural" is fundamentally different from them in the fact that it is only giving yourself headmates/desiring to have headmates, and doesnt mean you want a disorder. transDID and transOSDD transitioning often dont even involve giving yourself headmates as a primary aspect - it mostly involves giving yourself dissociation and memory loss. transplural is exclusively about giving yourself headmates, on the other hand. so, yes, willogenic systems dont want a CDD, but neither do most transplural folks.

obviously, the terms have completely different communities, and you can identify with one label and not a different one thats functionally the same. i identify as gay/veldian instead of cinthean or floric or toric etc etc, even though all of those mean basically the same thing. that doesnt mean i dont fit the definitions for those, though, and someone wouldnt be wrong if they said "thats also what cinthean means" or "you also fit under the definition of floric". fundamentally, the definitions for transplural and willogenic are extremely similar (especially considering the fact that you dont need dysphoria to be transplural).

also, please remember that regardless of whether or not you deny it, astro does not care. no trolls or anti-endos will care at all, because theyll just keep saying "youre transid!!!!!!!!" forever and ever and ever. maybe just stop engaging with trolls because theyre never going to change.

[genderificationbeam]

every day im like "but AM i autistic actually" and then i think about all the crushing moments in elementary school where i wasnt in on the joke and bungled it as a result and also my constant worry about being like. secretly innately evil because, while i try very hard to nurture my sense of compassion, i dont have as much natural empathy as i think is standard, and also the whole "understands on an intellectual level that large social contructs happen because xyz but in practice does Not Get gender. or capitalism. or money actually at all. but Especially gender"

and then im like well. even if im pointing at the wrong word people made up to describe a thing. i sure do experience enough of the Thing for the label to be helpful to me. And Why Else Do We Even Have The Label If Not For That. Idiot. Who Cares. Kill The Cop Inside Your Head etc etc

[intersex-support]

hi! i have some hypothetical questions:

is it be possible to have more than one intersex variation? maybe if one was a chromosomal variation and one was a hormonal variation, or etc? can you have more than one very similar variation (e.g. PCOS & CAH)? (i think that one would probably go undiagnosed if that was the case)

is hyperandrogenism outside of hyperandrogenic PCOS always intersex? i assume that hyperestrogenism is intersex too? what about hypoandrogen/estrogenism?

are uterus differences intersex (uterus didelphys, bicornate & septate uterus, etc.)?

and finally a personal question: i have hyperandrogenic PCOS & recently had a total hysterectomy. my surgeon told me i had a very small cervix, to the point where they almost had to convert to an open surgery because they didnt think they could use the cervical opening to pull the parts through. could that be related to hyperandrogenism? or was it just a coincidence/within the dyadic size variation?

thank you & i hope youre all having a good day :)

Hi!

So generally, most intersex variations are pretty mutually exclusive, and it all really depends on the underlying genetic cause. Some intersex variations we don't know enough about the genetic cause or how it functions to really have conclusive information about some aspects of it, and it might be hypothetically possible for some intersex variations to be comorbid. I am not an expert and really can't say more than that, but generally, most people are only diagnosed with one intersex variation.

For PCOS and CAH, that's a bit complicated. Currently, there are several proposed sets of diagnostic criteria for PCOS (Rottendam criteria, NIH criteria, and Androgen Excess Society criteria.) Generally, a key factor of PCOS is exclusion with other hyperandrogenic variations, meaning that you have to rule out things like NCAH before getting diagnosed with PCOS. But there are people who are misdiagnosed with PCOS when they actually have CAH, and people with CAH who have polycystic ovaries. So there is some overlap between the two, but that doesn't necessarily mean they are actually comorbid.

Hyperandrogenism is not always considered intersex. If it's caused by Cushing's, tumors, or medication, that's generally not considered intersex. When it's caused by other congenital variations, it usually is considered intersex.

Hyperestrogenism in people with XY is considered intersex, although it's more commonly referred to as Aromatase Excess Syndrome.

Hypoandrogenism and Hypoestrogenism is called hypogonadism and it isn't always considered intersex, as sometimes it can be caused by injuries or infection. It is sometimes considered intersex, and is associated with intersex variations like Klinefelter's and Turners.

I think uterus differences are a little less clear cut-they aren't usually grouped together with intersex variations, and traditionally haven't been considered intersex. However, if people with uterus differences feel solidarity and benefit from the support of intersex community, I'm not going to tell people that they can't participate in intersex community. This is one of those times when it really comes down to self + community evaluation about whether or not intersex is a label that makes sense.

I couldn't really find any data showing definitively that PCOS causes a shorter cervix, although there did seem to be some association. So I don't really know for that one!

Overall when it comes to defining what is and isn't intersex, I usually refer back to InterAct's explanation of what intersex is:

An innate physical trait that falls under the umbrella of variations in sex characteristics, generally meaning that the variation:

Shows up in a person’s chromosomes, genitals, gonads or other internal reproductive organs, or how their body produces or responds to hormones;

Differs from what society or medicine considers to be “typical” or “standard” for the development, appearance, or function of female bodies or male bodies;

and is present from birth or develops spontaneously later in life

Is often significant or noticeable enough to cause stigma or violence in a person's life, whether through explicit discrimination or implicit ways that society enforces the sex binary

I'm not the authority on what is or isn't intersex, and there are definitely some areas where it's clearer than others. I just generally consider whether or not something is an innate physical trait not caused by temporary factors such as a medication, whether or not that trait causes variations in sex characteristics, and whether that trait is considered within the "typical" variation of dyadic sex characteristics or if it's outside the sex binary in a way that causes societal stigma. I'm not interested in telling people whether they are or aren't intersex or denying people intersex community resources if they feel like their variations meet the definition.

I hope that makes sense!

-Mod E

[anissapierce]

TikTok Gave Me Autism: The Politics of Self Diagnosis

This one hour video nicely summarizes wht ive cone to gather from ten years on tumblr n my own personal seeking of knowledge elsewhere

[ambrosiasaladofthebrain]

Ambrosia Salad of The Brain

Ch 1: Meet Jake

The teacher’s note read like it usually did: “Nice Job” written under a circled 100% and a smiley face creating a small triangle of pen ink. Jake knew it was childish, it was because he was far younger than all of his classmates that his math teacher always left small notes of encouragement and excitement on his tests, but he supposed he didn’t care. He still cut each one out carefully before throwing out the test and placing the scrap onto the growing pile in the box he kept under his bed.

 He would show his sister the pile someday and she would be impressed with how well he had done. That day would probably be soon, hopefully soon. For now he would stack them until the box burst. With the ringing of the bell the school day came to a close and he scrambled to collect his things and leave before the mass of bigger students could trample him.

He was quick to make it to the front steps, wanting to double check his items before he left. Someone had stolen his first aid kit but he still had his second one which was good enough. There was a father a couple blocks from school who had started robbing from the richer district people who came to feel better about themselves and show off. These people often had bodyguards with some pent up emotions they needed to release. Jake couldn’t stop the man from doing what he could for his kid but he could apply his basic knowledge of first aid. He might be an amateur but where he lacked in practice he hoped his mind and memory made up for it. He supposed living in a hospital and watching professionals daily had to have upgraded his skills somewhat. 

He also needed the bread he had saved from lunch, a pack of rats had taken root in an alleyway he had to pass to get to the hospital and their attacks on random passerbyers were getting worse, as long as he threw them a good chunk of food however, they seemed to leave him alone. Simon had tried to protest Jake’s sharing of half his lunch with rats but he understood that certain measures had to be taken, and not a week later after the incident he had started carrying bread for a gang of rats on his block as well.

With his rusted swiss army knife prepared he was ready to walk home. He just needed to check in with Simon and Piet who were unusually late. They were usually at their meeting spot first, skipping their class to share a smoke, or, he thought they still smoked, they promised they had quit but they still carried packs and lighters and the smell never left their fingers and breath, nor their sweaters he needed to return.

“Hey kid!” Simon called as he left the building and hopped down the steps, tripping on a hole, and stringing a colorful display of words together as he stumbled to a stop. “‘Hey! Hey,” he corrected his volume with the second ‘hey’, looking apologetic, “Guess wha’ we got.”

“We?” Jake looked around, expecting to see Simon’s ‘better half’.

“Yeah, uh.” Simon looked around, before swearing again, “I lost her. No! The love of my life! Gone! Sorry, gone,” he corrected his volume again, really trying not to be so aggressively loud. “I’ll nev’a see ‘er again. Lost, to the chaos of the school, or maybe the lunch lady,” he shrugged, flopping down on the school steps, “Beauty like that will surely be missed, I’ll nev’a love anoth’a,” he clenched a fist to his chest, suddenly being tackled from behind

“That’s right you won't! But maybe I will! Leave your girlfriend to the demise a the lunch lady? She works out y’know. Too buff even fer me an’ you leave me! Ah Jake, ‘ey kiddo. how’d’yer test go?” Piet sobered down sitting on Simon’s back, pinning him to the ground as she reached for the 100% paper Jake handed her. “‘Ey, nice job, though I wasn’t all that worried, the one about explainin’ how ya did the work kept trippin’ ya up when we studied but ya’always pull through.”

“Thank you,” Jake blushed.

“I nev’a doubted ya either,” Simon added.

“Ah shut up,” Peit smacked his head lightly, “Anyway you got the goods?” 

“Duh,” Simon rolled his eyes, pushing Peit off and pulling a small cardboard box from his cardigan pocket. “Here ya are mister smarty pants.” He ceremoniously tossed the box to Jake who fumbled with it a moment before catching it properly and giving it a suspicious glance. 

“You didn’t,” He mumbled, cracking it open. “How? Where? The school doesn’t have a-”

“Eh I found some chips lyin’ ‘round an’, well, Peit has some chickens so we jus’ needed a stove ‘n a few other things,” Simon shrugged, Peit shrugging with him. 

Jake picked up the two chocolate chip cookies from the box, they were sloppy and a little flat, nothing like the images he had seen online but the last time he had had chocolate chip cookies had been with Zoey. He wondered if he could save one and find some milk but quickly shook the idea from his head remembering the growing prices.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the cookies, almost too quiet as he tried to stop the prickling of his eyes.

Piet let out a soft swear, raising a hand; “‘Ey don’t cry now, we were bored.”

“Yeah, it really wasn’ that hard even!” Simon added. 

“Or expensive, I mean, we stole most’a the stuff.”

“Sh!” Simon elbowed her, “No, we bought it, promise, promise,” He lied.

“Thank you,” Jake whispered again, breaking one of the cookies in half, then breaking that into two quarters, “Here.”

“We couldn’-” Piet began.

“Really?” Simon asked, “You sure?” He grabbed a quarter with excitement. Piet looked disgusted at him for a moment before taking her piece. The treat was dry and somewhat burnt yet uncooked all at once. It was very sweet, which was better than bitter Jake supposed, it would definitely benefit from a glass of milk though.

“Oh wow,” Piet coughed.

“You, don’ ‘ave to eat that Jake,” Simon grimaced, “I can throw that out.”

“No!” Jake held the small box close, glaring, “No, I’ll keep it, they’re not half bad.”

Simon’s watch on his outstretched hand buzzed, “I gotta get to work, you’ll be ok by yourself?”

“I walk every day by myself.”

“Doesn’ mean I can’t be worried.”

“You got your stuff?” Piet interrogated, “Books, pepper spray, pocket knife?”

Jake shuffled through his bag then pockets making a show of making sure it was all in place and hadn’t been stolen throughout the day despite having just done these actions moments ago, “Yep.”

“Alright. Get home safe bud,” She waved bye dragging Simon along with her.

Simon was still calling out to Jake; “I’ll be at the gate in the mornin’, and make sure to watch out for those rats, oh and cases of,” as they rounded the corner his calls disappeared with them. Jake giggled at them as he took another bite of his cookie and started his own walk. His first stop would be the rats and he needed to come up with good names for them.

He was still thinking of names for the rats when he left their alleyway. Rats are terribly smart creatures and Jake had always felt akin to them in some odd way. He was close to his next stop now, which meant he should get his swiss army knife ready. The Robber Father would never harm him but this wasn’t always his haunt, it was a very popular place for muggings to occur either way. However, while most let him by some people had become very desperate with the rising prices and crack down on crimes the President himself had initiated to help clean up the district.

Jake slowed, nearing the alley and peaking in. At first he didn’t see anyone but someone shifted in the pile of trash bags and Jake entered recognizing it as Robber Father. He squatted next to the man poking his arm with the dull knife. 

“Sir?”

The man groaned, sounding in pain, Jake scrunched his face looking for injuries. When he couldn’t outright see any stab wounds or broken bones Jake slapped the man's cheek, trying to wake him.

“Sir?” he called a bit louder.

This scene was reminding him a little too much of when he had found his sister. She had been warm, Jake felt the man’s forehead but his temperature felt normal enough. She had also coughed a lot as well as had a scratchy breath that seemed to tug at her throat, trying to stick to the sides. Jake brought his ear to the man’s mouth. His breath was soft if not slow.

“Siiiiirrrr!” Jake drew out his call, slapping the man's face repetitively.

“Wha? Who’s ther?” The man slew out, sitting up and focusing on Jake, “Oh, hey Doc, ‘ere for my checkup?” He rumbled as he sat up.

“What happened?” Jake asked, wanting to get to the point.

“Eh, this rich prick came into town lookin’ for trouble, I beat ‘em up but he got a couple hits to my stomach. Nother one’a those hit where it can’t be seen’ things, ya’know?” He lifted his shirt to show off the patchwork of bruising, “Could’a done better but I forgot to eat today.” He chuckled, Jake didn’t join him, rolling his eyes at the obvious lie. He pulled his gift box with the last half-a-cookie from his bag and handed it to the man before he could change his mind.

“Eh? Wha’s this?” Robber Father took it with a quizzical look, and gave a soft oh upon opening it, “A cookie? In this economy? Pretty impressive kid, you're basically the richest kid I’ve met now,” He went to hand the box back only for Jake to shove it back to him.

“You can have it, my frie-” Jake bit his tongue on the slip up, “Simon and Piet gave them to me, I already ate one, you have the rest.”

“The, ones who babysit ya at school?” Jake nodded. “They rich or somethin’?” “Nah, just stupid.”

Robber Father huffed a laugh, “Teenagers. My Rose ‘s turnin’ 14 soon y'know, you wanna come to the party?”

Was that a joke? When most kids invited him to a party it was usually to laugh moments later. Also people usually brought gifts to birthday parties and he had no money or anything to give.

“You don’t have to bring anythin’ kid, your, like, six-”

“I’m 8 (timephrame),” Jake informed, then realizing he’d interrupted quickly added a “Sorry!

“Point is, you wouldn’t need’ta bring anythin’, it’s next week, at that one park near the gas station with slushies, I can tell ya more details later if ya want?”

Jake nodded before looking at his watch, he needed to continue walking if he wanted to make it for the cafeteria’s dinner. He quickly waved goodbye and headed back out of the alley, pocketing his knife.

By the time he made it to the hospital the cafeteria was bustling. Jake quickly grabbed his food, it was watery soup and bread today, before leaving the loud area.

Jake balanced his meal tray in one hand to knock on Zoey’s door. After a beat of silence he opened the door.

“Hey Z! I’m back from school, I still needa check in with Joy but I said hi to a couple other people on my way here so she probably already knows. She’s been real strict ‘bout knowin’ where I am lately. I think it's prolly ‘cause I got picked up by that gang last week, they didn’t do anythin’, I was jus’ hangin’ out with’em, but I guess social services didn’t like that I was hangin’ out with a,” he set down his tray and threw off his backpack to use his hand for air quotes, “‘violent gang’ such as the Cat’s Claws. They’re honestly not that bad.”

Jake drug the armchair closer to his plate and Zoey’s bed, picking up his milk carton to clink it against her feeding tube gently. He drank his soup slowly, enjoying the few pieces of meat and feeling proud every time he chewed a potato. He had been helping in the hospital garden when he could. Something social services had made him do to keep him off the streets but he still enjoyed it.

“Y’know, S.S’s been strugglin’ lately Z. Well, they always are, but really, after all that trouble I told ya ‘bout they’ve been breathin’ down my neck lately. They don’t like the idea of me livin in a hospital, this one worker told me I was goin to disrupt the peace, or waste people's time, y’know cause it’s a hospital and doctors an’ nurses need to focus, but I’ve been tryin real hard to blend in, I stayed out late to not clog the hallways but then they yelled at Joy ‘cause I kept gettin inta trouble, even when I wasn’t!

“Jus’ cause I hang out with criminals doesn’t make me one! I mean, someone has’ta take care of ‘em, else they’re all gonna die of infections, I tell ya, one time I met a lady who had let a lill’ stab wound get infected, it was so gross, but nobody wanted to help her so I looked at it and guess what, she just needed to wash it out a bit and properly bandage it. I showed ‘er how to make bandages from scraps like ya taught me. I’m ramblin’ uh.

“Oh yeah, so after they gave me that curfew I started tryin to make friends with the other patients and they were all real nice but S.S. didn’t like that either for some reason, somethin’ ‘bout it not bein professional, I can talk to other patients my age an’ that's it apparently. Like that makes sense. So now I ‘ave’ta check in every day after school, an’ before Joy leaves, an’ she locks us in here now! Have you noticed? She always unlocks it at five the next mornin’ but still. It’s been real borin.”

Jake pushed a strand of hair from Zoey’s face, it was to her shoulders now, she’d probably want to cut it when she woke up. Or maybe not, Jake was pretty sure she had only cut her hair in support of him having to cut his, she’d always had these really detailed hair styles before that. He wove a messy braid into a small bit of her hair and smiled at the attempt. 

“Sorry fer ramblin’, I know it’s annoyin’. But, uh, when ya wake up can you teach me how’ta braid hair please? Ok, I’mma go check in with Joy now, love you.”

He waited a moment, breathed in, breathed out. When nothing followed he quickly got up, pushing his chair back into place and collecting his dishes.

In the cafeteria it had quitted just a bit, most people had gone back to their rooms and work now. Entering the kitchen wasn’t really allowed but, like in many things, Jake was an exception. Entering the kitchen always felt like going under water and only hearing the muffled voices of the surface. 

The kitchen staff always talked in soft voices that mixed with the cling and clack of kitchen utensils. The sound of people in the cafeteria would worm it’s way through the walls and dance with the quiet music that played quietly from a trashy radio someone had fished out of a trash and repaired years ago. The smells of food stuck to a schedule just as much as the food. Today had been potato soup so the music was samba, Chef Maya’s playlist. 

She always danced her way around the kitchen but on samba days her movements would grow smoother like they’d been defrosted especially for the day. 

Jake quietly started running water over his dishes, happy to be looked over in the bustle. Tomorrow was fresh bread Friday so the kitchen was moving in a muffled hurry to prepare. Usually Jake would love to help, bread was one of his favorite things to make, but he still needed to check in with Joy so he quickly waved to the welcoming chefs and left. 

Joy was on the second level like always. She was checking in on a patient who had come in with a severe case of  Stardust yesterday. They hoped he would wake up in the coming days but it wasn’t likely. Jake hoped he woke up soon. From the door window Jake watched as Joy drew his blood and added it to her vial already filled with another liquid. She shook it until the red changed to a silvery metallic color, knitting her brows at the reaction, Jake mimicked her face, scrunching his brows in a similar fashion. 

Doctors had done this to Zoey every so often, more frequently when she first arrived, when they still had higher hopes. They’d let him shake the vials until the colors changed as a sort of morbid entertainment. 

Sighing, Joy zipped the blood sample into a contamination bag and checked the rest of the patient's vitals. When everything was in order she headed to the door, spotting Jake in the process. She knitted her brows at him and he quickly jumped off the stool he’d drug over to the door and carried it back to her desk. A minute later she walked out of the patient room and over to Jake, taking off her medical mask, and tossing her gloves into a garbage.

“See this line?” She pointed to the obvious silver and navy hazard line painted into the floor. 

Jake looked at it, taking another step behind the desk that was outside the line that separated the Stardust ward from the entrance of the floor.

“You see it, right?” Joy said again, tapping her foot on the line twice.

Jake nodded, eyes fixed on the simmering silvery lines nestled between the blue. Apparently the floor had been originally closed off with a temporary tape made for the epidemic but when it became a-

“You’re not supposed to be lookin round this floor,” She nagged, pulling Jake from his thoughts.

“I know,” he mumbled. When it became a permanent issue-

“If Social Services found out I was lettin’ you wander ‘round they’d move you again.”

“I know.” When it became a permanent issue they painted the line.

“That’d be what? 5 houses in 11 months? I mean, y’know they hate you livin’ here, and I can’t really disagree, it’s no place fer a kid.”

“I know.”

“As soon as a place opens up they’re gonna be itchin’ for a reason to kick ya.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she sighed, sitting on the floor next to him, “You're lucky we got yer sister moved for you, ya’know.”

Jake gave her the look, he gave her every time she said that, like he was lucky the hospital had given up on Zoey’s recovery enough to move floors, like they were waiting for her bed to open up, like he was lucky social services was so overworked that they were desperate enough to send a 13 year old [timephrame] to live in a hospital, in the same room as his comatose sister. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she sighed.

He scrunched his face more, hoping to double whatever feeling it caused.

“Stop,” she groaned, squishing his face, causing him to freeze, “Sorry, uh,” she withdrew her hands and tucked them between her legs, “Sorry, yeah, yer not lucky, but, yeah. Take the wins kid. You're close to her, I mean, you practically lived here even ‘fore you officially got signed over. And now you get to have me as your legal guardian!” She pointed at herself excitedly, “How awesome is that?”

“You?” Jake asked quizzically.

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Jake hummed, pretending to think hard about how great it really was, “I don’ know. I had this one real cool guardian who taught me boxin’.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Jake popped the p, doing it a coupe times, liking the small pressure it caused in his chest and throat.

Joy chuckled, “How’d that work? Y’know, with the whole,” she waved her hands at him, not finishing her sentence.

“Uh, I don’ know, she jus’, took it real slow an’ had me practice with a dummy or spar with her but she wouldn’t spar back, only block. That took a while for me to be comfortable with. I almos’ got comfortable enough to have a normal practice, our goal was by the end of the month,” Jake smiled, remembering how excited she was to realize Jake trusted her that much.

“What happened? If you don’t mind?”

“Huh?” he cleared away the memories like a sticky residue,”oh, uh,” he thought for a second, trying to recall which offense matched her and not another guardian, “Oh! She was stealin’ from the district over, uh D-12, y’know the one with all those orchards, yeah they didn’t like that she was stealin all that produce, so she was sent to care for a field until she could properly make up for all the lost product. Should’a known somethin’ was up with how many smoothies she made me,” Jake smiled, remembering the apple milkshakes she’d make, at first he’d thought they’d be gross but let it be known he’d never turn down free food and sure enough they’d been a hit.

“Harsh. I think I hear Akuno’s passin’ a law ‘bout border crossin’ soon.”

“I think that’d do D-20 some good, wouldn’t have so many rich idiots passin’ through just to laugh at us.”

Joy hummed, patting her legs before getting up, “Alright, thanks for checking in, if not a bit late,” she added with a joking scolding voice, “I’ll check in before bed,” she turned to leave but suddenly turned back, “Oh, and, uh, so last week, right, Monday I think, we went to the library and I got the place’s number but I lost the slip and can’t remember it. I hate to do this but could you help me please?” She made an apologetics face clasping her hand in front of her.

Jake hummed trying to remember; last week, Monday, they had gone to the library, it had been sunny, but rain looked to be rolling in. Jake had been excited about that. He had wanted a book on observing vocal tone and needed to return his book on how to understand a person's body language. He’d found it, remembered where it was from the last time he visited, right next to a thick red book and a squat maroon book. When they left the librarian checking them out had talked to Joy, they’d had red hair, it was very pretty, Jake had thought their freckles were very pretty as well, he’d always liked freckles, the librarian had written down the library's number and handed it to Joy, and, oh! He had seen it then, in the exchange of hands.

“It was 218-734-345-3455, the five’s coulda been six’s though, they didn’t have the best handwriting.”

Joy wrote down the last number, making note of the five to six bit, “Perfect, thank you so much, I’ll call about that book fair for you asap, promise.”

“Ok.”

Jake waved goodbye, as Joy went to fulfill the rest of her tasks. First he went to the roof, helping with the garden, the potatoes had needed to be pulled today. Heading to the kitchen next they were still preparing bread and he found himself helping add things to mixers and memorizing recipes he was excited to try some day. Chef Ron loved to share tips on how to substitute expensive ingredients with cheap items. 

His brother, Remmy, always shared how to safely eat overdue food, he technically couldn’t share these items with the public but he would “accidently” leave items for Jake after “accidently” talking about the processes needed to safely eat the food or after they had already been prepared.  

Jake was writing a paper for his English class when Joy came to say goodnight.

“Hey sour patch,” she entered, chuckling at Jake’s huff of annoyance at the nickname he never understood, “Bed time,” she sing-songed, setting her bag on the floor, “Y’all ready?”

Jack hummed, focused on finishing his thought. Joy walked over to Zoey’s bed, flattening the odd wrinkles and fixing her stray hairs. Smiling at the girl, her eye’s softened for a second, then hardened with something like resolved. She inhaled, sipping air like it would solidify the emotions she was trying to press in place, not seeing the way Jake watched her. He had finished his thought, but finished or not he always secretly watched as Joy fussed with Zoey before getting him ready for bed.

Jake found himself copying her routine in the morning, making sure it looked just like how Joy did it. He could never perfect the tiny curl she would draw against Zoey’s cheek with a strand of hair.

“I’m ready,” he mumbled, setting the laptop in the nightstand drawer. 

“I better not find out you were on that all night,” Joy warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake lied. 

They both knew it was a lie, But this was a lie he wouldn't get punished for because one: it wasn’t really a lie as they both knew the truth, and two: Joy encouraged studying even if she didn’t approve of him studying into the early hours of morning. It was his own fault if he was tired in the morning and couldn’t focus at school, and that was punishment enough. 

“Pjs?” Joy scanned.

“Check,” Jake lifted his arm, revealing his soft pig sweater.

“Teef?”

“Check,” he widened his gums as if to prove they’d been scrubbed.

“Bed made?”

He pointed at the small cot in the corner, perfectly made.

“Window locked?” She walked to the window herself, checking the bolt and trying to lift it open. She turned away satisfied when it stayed closed, “Alright, school tomorrow, then right back. Amanda,” she sneered the name with a fake and horribly inaccurate posh accent, “is checkin’ in at four, so best behaviors. Now, in bed.”

She herded him into his cot, pulling the blanket over him and tucking in his feet.

“We gotta cut yer hair soon, it’s like a curtain in-fron-a yer eyes, how-d-ya even see?”

Jake crossed his eyes, pulling a curl and watching it bounce. Dad wouldn’t be a fan of this length, it was already too long, long enough to pull, reaching his nose and covering his ears.

“I don’t really know,” He lamented, “I jus sorta look through the gaps.” He swayed his head, watching the curls move back and forth, then looking through the gaps made with the movement.

Joy huff, “Right, Well, for now, I’ll bring some hair ties with me tomorrow, I can cut yer hair later this week, a’right?”

“Ok.”

  Picking up her bag again she turned off the light, “I’m gonna lock the door now, you don’t need anythin?”

“Nope.”

“Ok,” she smiled, “See you two in the mornin.” 

Jake smiled back, “See you tomorrow, bye.”

Jake listened as she locked the door and her footsteps receded. He waited a minute before climbing out of his bed and into Zoey’s. He technically wasn’t supposed to do this, however Joy, upon catching him one too many times, had shown him the best way to sleep close to her while watching all the medical instruments plugged into her like a computer. 

“Hey Zoey,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna stay long promise, jus wanted to talk real quick see-” Someone jiggled the door knob to their room, and Jake zipped back to his bed. Joy must have forgotten something, she did that sometimes, forgetting to mention something or forgetting to give him something. The jiggling stopped, Jake held his breath a moment, waiting for Joy to properly unlock the door and walk in but nothing happened. Maybe one of the patients was walking around, sometimes they got confused.

Jake made his way back over to Zoey, crawling into the bed, “Weird,” he mumbled, “I heard one of the new patients is a sleep walker, I wanted t’talk to ‘em, see what it was like. I wonder if they dream when they walk, if the dreams affect how they interact with the world. Anyway, I scored well on that test I told you ‘bout. I knew I’d do good but confirmation is always nice. Oh, and I got invited to a birthday party today. I think it was a real invitation, not a joke, Imma ask more questions tomorrow. Oh, an’ Peit and Simon, y’know my babysitters, made me cookies today. With chocolate chips, I know they definitely traveled districts for that, maybe they’ll take me with ‘em one’a these days, probably not, I’m a bit of a liability. Plus, I think it’s like a date thing for them, I wouldn’t want’ta third-wheel.”

Jake paused, listening to the bustle of the hospital.

“Hey Zoey,” he looked up to her, patting her cheek. He told himself he wasn’t trying to wake her up, but there was always hope that maybe she’d rustle awake at the touch, “could I sleep with you tonight? It’s been 46 days since the last time I did.” Jake waited, a car passed outside; somebody walked past their door, casting a shadow under it; somewhere in the building someone laughed. “Alright, thank you.”

Jake curled himself into Zoey’s side and under the cover, inhaling and exhaling slowly, until sleep finlay came, and he woke up in his library.

The Library was not, against most people’s assumptions, organized. There was a desk when Jake first entered. Here a Jake that looked exactly like him sat, this Jake, he was often just called Desky, had a little laptop like Jake’s out in the real world and it ran somewhat slow. If real Jake wanted to remember something like “yesterday's lunch” this was his best bet but for things more complicated like the phone number from earlier today, he found it easier to travers his mind and find the memory he wanted with context.

Memories were often accessed like doorways for most people and Jake was no different even with his advanced memory. If he wanted to remember last Tuesday's lunch he’d first find last Tuesday in his library, then remember lunch time, who he’d been with maybe, what the menu at school had had to offer, something key like a fist fight breaking out. This sounded organized but his mind was still somehow a mess. 

Memories sat on the ground and were strewn across the shelves in odd orders, remembering a duck could remind Jake of green which would remind him of apples so of course those memories shaped like books were all currently stacked on top of each other on the floor. There was a crate somewhere in this library that moaned and tried to grab Jake’s attention but he had hidden it behind so many other random memories that he could only access it by really trying to remember those memories, or something reminded him of them, but he never wanted to think about them anyway so the box stayed hidden and Jake didn’t know were in The Library it was. 

Sometimes when Peit and Simmon wanted to talk without him hearing they’d ask him to think about how many pigeons he’d seen last Monday and he was always too naive to realize why they were asking at the time so he would delve into his library looking through Monday’s book, looking for birds he had seen and counting each one. When he would resurface the two’s conversation would be interrupted with his answer, their conversations had already been finished anyway.

As much of a mess as it was Jake loved his library. The odd ‘roof’ above was a deep swirling blue galaxy, shifting in hues and twinkling with stars. Vines laced their ways around  books and objects, red roses and other flowers blooming from oblong the body. Forget-me-nots timidly grew from crevices here and there, and while there was no smell inside his head except the wafting of a memory Jake liked to imagine it smelled of lilies and old books, crinkled and weary with age. 

The shelves ran high, decorated with ladders that stretched taller than buildings. The shelves housed more than books, flowers and shrubs burst from their counters. Toys and food stuck in time sat on display. Some of the books, placed between a puddle and a bowl of cereal were actually books he’d read and taken the time to perfectly reconstruct in his mind.

He was never lonely here either, versions of himself walked aimlessly, one version from each birthday, a version from hard to erase memories, and versions from mundane days. Each one would never exist again, only here could they remain like a copy of himself in that moment. Jake hated to even look at some of them but he knew even still, in some odd way he was never alone. Or maybe he should take Joy up on that offer of therapy. 

Sometimes Jake wished he could dream but being in the muted quiet of his head, organizing his memories and objects, he felt he was resting enough. Jake smiled as he picked up a book filled with all the recipes he’d learned, deciding to create a shelf for food related memories. Memories could be held on more than one shelf so he left this first version on the floor next to the book on pigs.

Jake spent his sleep organizing his memories on his new shelf, finally after some time he felt himself start to drift, starting to wake up. He stretched his hands over his head, it didn’t achieve much but he felt like one was supposed to do this after a bigger task so he did it anyway. Taking a step back to admire his work, something cold settled under his skin and panic wiggled it’s way into his heart as instead of hitting the hardwood floor or even waking up in bed his foot sank down. Instead of hitting the ground he fell into the floor.

Chapter 2

⭐️Hello hello! This is a story I've held close to my heart for a long time but haven't written a lot of. The other day I realized that when I started writing it I had expected be done with the first book by 2024. I'm goin to try n write a chapter a month (it'll probably be pocmarked with spelling mistakes ngl) but it's a challenge I hope I can keep up with 🌙

[soichirosgayson]

Just some Light thoughts (pun)

personally I don’t like the idea of Light being controlled by the death note or somehow just forced into committing all the atrocities he did.

i fell in love with death note and Light bc of the fact he was the perfect son/student who managed to become a villain, and like it wasn’t a completely ridiculous leap. we see very little of preKira!Light or Yotsuba!Light even, but we definitely see the fact he is isolated from his peers (superiority complex?), he justifies everything he does and he does seem to have a childish notion of justice

some HCs i personally have about his upbringing is that whilst his parents weren’t abusive, they embodied the typical toxicity stemming from asian cultures (source: i am also the asian firstborn in my family) like his parents disregarding his feelings, soichiro trying to model his son after himself, expect perfect grades, expecting him to have the perfect nuclear family to carry on the family name or some BS. trust me personally, that is a lot of pressure that u do become a control-freak; its really not that unbelievable to see Light become a villain

everything about Light after Kira was always there, but continuing to write in or leaving the death note was his crossroads and he made his choice

L thing is that’s what makes death note amazing to me?? bc we have a lot of characters who don’t do the right/wrong thing “just because”, but because they have their own selfish reason for doing so. like even L the hero/antagonist isn’t the world’s greatest detective bc he’s altruistic, he does it bc it challenges him

upon my first reading of death note, i struggled initially to comprehend why Kira was wrong. then i thought about it, and the first idea that came to me was that even if you have justification for killing, then you always would’ve been okay with killing (unless ofc in specific situations). take Light for example, ppl think Yotsuba!Light is OOC but i just think that Kira!Light was Yotsuba!Light with a complete disregard for what society thought was acceptable; ergo he didn’t repress his ‘undesirable traits’ like his superiority complex or the dark thoughts he’d get. he is uninhibited. for Light, being Kira isn’t about killing; we see from the first few chapters that he actually loses weight and pukes the first time with Shibuimaru, so no, it’s not about the act. but it is still about power. to me, being Kira was about taking control when he had very little in his own life, plus he was bored and bc if anyone could, it would be him. No one else could ‘handle’ it like him

i also prefer the manga ending for Light over the anime ending. Light, especially at that point, would’ve never regretted anything. he has the superiority complex of a god to the point that he refuses to be wrong. i acc HC that Light also doesn’t completely plan everything to a tee (although he is very smart still), but when things go wrong, he adapts and takes advantage of it and still says “everything is going according to plan”. it is acc so beautiful/poignant/powerful/poetic to me that this guy, with a superiority complex so big he kills off a hundred thousand+ people, ends up in MU; a place where everyone is equal no matter what

for me, personally (u can disagree tho), Light becomes rlly boring if his actions are justified or redeemed. most of the characters in DN actually become rlly boring to me if they’re completely shown to be good/bad

[abutterflyobsession]

people always speculating and guess-diagnosing Sherlock Holmes when I know for a fact he is bipolar, Jeremy Brett told me so

[ck-the-overanalyzer]

I hate being too busy to take advantage of my hyperfixations. Like. The Thing comes up in my hyperfixation cycle and I think of and obsess over art (both writing and drawing) I could do for that hyperfixation but then I don’t have the time or energy to do that art. And when I finally do, the hyperfixation has subsided or moved to another thing.

[sexy-candy-ass-karl-marx]

just saw somebody have a dni that said "dni: believes 'narc abuse' is real" and i thought they meant narcotics

[nohkalikai]

g and i sat and diagnosed every single character in both genshin and hsr w mental illnesses w the power of my psych degree and the DSM. and then we assigned them all drag queens. my reward for getting so many emails out of the way today and also for getting started on my lit review.

[beguines]

As a significant "feminised" category of mental illness, however, HPD [histrionic personality disorder] was superseded in the DSM-III by the introduction of the controversial BPD, a label which has been increasingly applied to women, with around 75 per cent of all cases estimated to be female. Seen as a milder form of schizophrenia and lying on the "borderline" between neuroses and psychoses, the concept has been used in psychiatry since 1938. Like other personality disorders, BPD has a notoriously low reliability level even by the generally poor standards of the DSM, and even within the profession is considered by many as yet another "wastebasket" category (though as Bourne ruefully remarks, the ambiguity of such personality disorders makes them particularly useful in policing deviance in the new century). One member of the DSM-III task force stated at the time of constructing BPD that "in my opinion, the borderline syndrome stands for everything that is wrong with psychiatry [and] the category should be eliminated". The chair of the task force, Robert Spitzer, admitted with the publication of DSM-III that BPD was only included in the manual due to pressures from psychoanalytically oriented clinicians who found it useful in their practices. Such practices have been documented by Luhrmann who describes psychiatrists' typical view of the BPD patient as "an angry, difficult woman—almost always a woman—given to intense, unstable relationships and a tendency to make suicide attempts as a call for help.' Bearing significant similarities to the feelings of nineteenth century psychiatrists towards hysterics, Luhrmann's study reveals psychiatrists' revulsion of those they label with a personality disorder: they are "patients you don't like, don't trust, don't want . . . One of the reasons you dislike them is an expungable sense that they are morally at fault because they choose to be different." Becker reinforces this general view of the BPD label when she states that "[t]here is no other diagnosis currently in use that has the intense pejorative connotations that have been attached to the borderline personality disorder diagnosis." A bitter irony for those labelled with BPD is that many are known to have experienced sexual abuse in childhood, something they share in common with many of those Freud labelled as hysterical a century earlier; a psychiatric pattern of depoliticising sexual abuse by ignoring the (usually) male perpetrator, and instead pathologising the survival mechanisms of the victim as abnormal.

By the mid-1980s, the hysteria diagnosis had disappeared from the clinical setting while BPD had become the most commonly diagnosed personality disorder. BPD is now the most important label which psychiatric hegemony invokes to serve capital and patriarchy through monitoring and controlling the modern woman, reinforcing expected gender roles within the more fluid, neoliberal environment. Nevertheless, as Jimenez (emphasis added) reminds us, the historical continuity from hysteria to BPD is clear: "Both diagnoses delimit appropriate behavior for women, and many of the criteria are stereotypically feminine. What distinguishes borderline personality disorder from hysteria is the inclusion of anger and other aggressive characteristics, such as shoplifting, reckless driving, and substance abuse. If the hysteric was a damaged woman, the borderline woman is a dangerous one."

Bruce M.Z. Cohen, Psychiatric Hegemony: A Marxist Theory of Mental Illness