#diagnosis is not neutral! sometimes helpful often harmful but never ever neutral

[goldenkirstein]

there's no place I'd rather be

or alternatively, you fall in love with jean despite knowing the precarious situation

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anonymous requested: Hello, long time reader here and glad that you open your request! Can I request a Jean x F! Reader. Reader is a Marleyan nurse who arrived with Yelena, tho she has no hate towards Eldian and feels unfair the stigmatism eldian suffers in Marley. She isnt involved in any plans just do her work. She slowly falls in love with Jean, but has to keep their relationship as she is « the ennemy ». They got secretly engaged before the rumbling. Canonverse, Fluff, slight, love. Thank you in advance ❤️❤️❤️

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.1k+

tags: fluff, some angst, manga spoilers, female reader, language, mentions of food and injuries.

a/n: dashes denote timskips

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“Not so tightly, I said firmly, not to cut off my circulation.” You giggled as the man released his grip on your wrist. He looked down, ears tinted red with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got distracted.” Hazel eyes met yours, and a soft chuckle left his mouth.

You were no stranger to the commanding officer; although a great soldier, he was not immune from the occasional bar fight, which often led him to knock at your door with a pleading look and a couple of cuts and bruises that needed your attention.

Over the months, the fights got less frequent, but Jean continued to visit you, leading to the formation of an unlikely friendship. Sometimes, he would come with lunch in hand, knowing how busy you got taking care of the sick and wounded. Other times, like today, he would join you on his days off, helping you complete menial tasks around the clinic.

“You are a terrible student, Kirstein; you know that?” You stood up from the cot and began to place the gauze and antiseptic liquid in the cabinet situated above.

“Maybe you’re just a terrible teacher.” He looked up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. You whipped your head back to roll your eyes at the man before returning to the task at hand.

“I’d be careful with the choice of words; I don’t see any other nurse here who lets you follow them around like a lost puppy dog.” Closing the cabinet, you stripped the cot of the sheets, bunching them in your hands. Jean’s eyes followed your precise movements before he took the sheets out of your hand and placed them in the laundry hamper at the end of the bed.

“A puppy dog? Seriously? After helping you out at this lonesome clinic, that’s what I’m reduced to?” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning being shot.

You gave him a deadpan look before moving on to the next bed. The tall man remained in your periphery as you continued to work. The silent treatment clearly worked as a sigh left his lips. You glanced up, mouth already open to quip at him in playful annoyance, but found him running his hands through his hair— a nervous tick. You had picked up on it after cleaning his cuts when missions went wrong.

“So, next lesson, I was thinking, maybe you could teach me how to suture a wound?”

This was what he was nervous about?

“You can barely take my pulse without squeezin’ the pulp out of me; you think I’m going to trust you-”

“Okay, how about a date then.”

You blinked your eyes at him, a confused expression painting your face. There were too many complications, you thought. Sure he was attractive and kind, not to mention thoughtful, and his touch would set your skin ablaze, but he was ranked high in the military; would his superiors be okay with this?

There was no denying you did have feelings for him — a tiny part of you was squealing like a schoolgirl; you desperately wanted to lean into that part, but there could be consequences if you accepted.

Worrisome thoughts circled your mind, and you barely heard your name being called out by the man in front of you. Shaking your head to clear your mind, your focus returned to Jean, his eyebrows raised as he waited with bated breath for your response.

It’s just one date.

It could mean nothing.

There’s no harm in saying yes.

“Um, it’s fine if you don’t-” Jean’s voice was hesitant and quiet, but he was quickly cut off when you let out a laugh.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just-you know what? Yeah, Kirstein, I’ll go on a date with you.” His demeanour changed, and you giggled at the awkwardness. “Now, I have a pile of patient files that need sorting. Think you’re up for the job?” You bit your lip as you watched the man quickly nod and follow behind your footsteps.

—

“Seriously? I mean, I don’t see it; guess puberty did you wonders, Jean.” You took a bite of the strawberry shortcake, eyes fluttering shut as the flavours filled your mouth.

“Right? I guess I was kind of a dick back then, but I swear they only just stopped calling me that.” Jean smiled as he looked over at you, enjoying the dessert. He hopelessly wanted to kiss you there and then, but he decided against it — too early for that.

“Do you miss it? Your training years?” Taking a napkin, you wiped at the corner of your mouth. The smile on Jean’s face faded away as he looked over the meadow, the setting sun casting a brilliant glow over his features. The change in his expression filled you with instant regret; you opened your mouth to utter out an apology for your carelessness but were cut off by Jean’s voice replacing the sudden silence that had taken over between the two of you.

“Yes? No? Sometimes, it feels like a different lifetime; none of us could have anticipated this. We were so young.” He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing, “Sometimes I wish we could have stayed like that for a little longer — I could have cherished it better.” His voice turned into a whisper near the end. You stayed silent before he turned back, flashing a smile at you that made your heartbeat quicken.

“Enough about me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about Marley. Tell me about it.” Jean’s eyes flickered between yours and the different slices of cake laid out on the picnic blanket. Taking a fork, he bit into the decadent cheesecake and let out a moan.

“You really want to hear about Marley? I thought you’d be sick of hearing about the place, Mr. Commanding Officer.” You giggled while he tried to grumble out a response, the food still in his mouth.

“I could never get tired of hearing about you, doll. Now, c’mon tell me.” His expression softened when he looked at you.

“Don’t do that.” You swallowed thickly, the pet name ringing in your ears.

“Do what?” He wiped the crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand, making you raise your eyebrows and suppress a laugh. He tilted his head and looked at you with a confused expression.

“Say stuff that makes me feel like I got the wind knocked out of my lungs.” You turned your face, attempting to conceal the embarrassment that had taken over your features. Shutting your eyes, you waited for him to laugh at you, but he never did. Hesitantly you turned to face him and found him staring at you, his hazel eyes sparkling.

“You want to know what my diagnosis for that is?” He leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You struggled to meet his gaze.

“What?” It came out breathy; Jean’s eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I think you like me. Wanna know what I recommend as treatment?” He smiled when you quickly nodded at his words, the conversation you were having wiped from your mind.

The distance between the two of you closed in; his lips moulded to yours as he captured them in a tender kiss. The taste of the sweet cheesecake was still present on his lips, and you wrapped his hand around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Jean smiled against your lips before pulling away.

“Guess my lessons finally paid off, Kirstein.” A slight blush tinted Jean’s cheeks at your comment, and he grasped your free hand with his own, bringing it to his lips, peppering your knuckles with soft kisses.

—

“Are you listening?”

The Commander’s voice made you sit up straight; you offered a quick apology to them before glancing over at Jean, who was shifting in his seat.

The tension was palpable in the room as the Commander continued to explain the fragility of the situation at hand. With Eren abandoning the scouts, intense scrutiny was placed on the Commander and the Marleyan volunteers — the latter of which included you.

You stared at your hands which rested in your lap, gaze focused downward to avoid the venomous looks that were being thrown in your direction. However, it wasn’t anger that filled your chest but rather a certain heaviness. You couldn’t blame them. Centuries of mistrust and hatred fueled this. They had every right to doubt your intentions, despite them being in no way harmful or deceitful in nature.

Gathering enough courage to lift your head, you locked eyes with Jean, and your heart sank deeper into a pool of anguish.

You were a fool.

A fool for thinking that the world would spare you from the inevitable heartbreak that faced you both.

You hoped that Jean wouldn’t be able to see through the front you were putting up, trying your best to remain neutral, not to worry him during such an important meeting. He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes shifting back to Commander Hange. You knew that if you were worrying about the current predicament, there was no doubt that he probably was as well.

Shifting your focus back on your lap, you ran your thumb over your bare ring finger to soothe yourself for the remainder of the meeting.

Welcoming the cool breeze as you stepped out of the imposing building, you allowed your shoulders to relax. The momentary relief was short-lived, however, as two soldiers trailed behind your footsteps. They were getting closer and closer until you turned around and saw a familiar figure dismiss them.

Jean approached you; although his expression was stiff and stoic, his eyes still held the same tenderness for you as they did years prior. Before accompanying you through the gates and on to the stone-laden path towards your clinic, he gave you a curt nod.

You knew better than to reach out and grasp his hand, interlock your fingers together, despite the ever-growing itch you had to seek comfort in his touch.

Sparing a few glances in his direction, you saw his jaw was clenched — the meeting still heavy on his mind.

Rounding the corner, the steps leading to the clinic came into view; it was secluded enough for both of you to drop the act. You walked over and sat on the steps and watched as Jean sat next to you.

A tired sigh tumbled from his lips, hair falling in front of his face, obstructing you from seeing his pained expression. You reached over and brushed it past his ear, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder before resting your forehead against it.

The both of you sat in silence before Jean took hold of your left hand, thumb brushing over the same spot you were moments prior.

“You know, I was worried you only said yes out of pity for me. I thought you only saw me as some poor Eldian-” Raising your head from Jean’s shoulder, you watched with concern in your eyes.

“Jean, you know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“I know that, doll. I just, just, couldn’t believe you would want to marry me.” His eyes remained focused on your hand until you released it from his grasp. You moved it to his face, turning it to make him face you.

Grazing over his cheekbones, you gave him a soft smile, “I still want to. Marry you that is. Ring or not, the end of the fucking world or not, I’m still going to marry you.” Letting out a chuckle, you pressed your forehead against his.

He turned his head to kiss your palm, voice coming out as a whisper, “I can’t make any promises, and I know you’re scared, but know that I love you more than anything, darling.”

—

Smoothing your hands over your attire, for the umpteenth time doing so, you walked over to join Armin and the others from the ship’s bow.

You instantly smiled when you felt a warm hand on the small of your back, head turning to look at your husband.

“You could have spent a smidge more time fixing your hair, don’t you think so?” Jean shook his head and let out a laugh.

“Gotta look the best for my wife.” He shot you a wink, making you roll your eyes at him despite the action making your mind foggy — even now, he still managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a silly little crush.

You pushed into his side, hand snaking up his back as you approached your friends.

“Nervous?”

“You know it.” He removed himself from your side to lean into the railing, but he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you closer to his body.

Jean brought your hand to his lips before he placed a gentle kiss over the cool metal that wrapped around your finger. He flashed you a grin, “but I’m glad I have you here with me.”

a/n: this took me a long time to finish, so I apologize for it taking so long !! I hope you enjoyed it !!

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[ceruleantrolls]

Therapists and pales-for-hire: they aren't the same

As written by Noru. Not sure if it's an actual article or just one his blog posts. 

The terms I used in the title are, in fact, in themselves partially wrong. Therapy is a broad term, and can refer to quadrants therapy, counseling, social workers, etc., but for simplicity’s sake, the kind of therapy that we will mostly be talking about is the kind where you talk one-on-one to a qualified psychotherapist, though there will be some overlap with: Counselling (similar to psychotherapy, but for a much shorter time and for more short-term or skin-deep problems, as opposed to longstanding psychological issues), and psychiatry (medical professionals who are qualified to diagnose mental health conditions and disorders and prescribe medication, and sometimes still provide psychotherapy, but not often).

Pales-for-hire, as I call them -- the more popular term as I've heard it is palewhore, but that label is derogatory and, quite frankly, a rude way to refer to someone you've just paid to pretend to be your moirail for 45 minutes -- are, as I've just mentioned, people who you pay to receive the pale experience, as it were.

The key difference between the two is that one of them is a qualified professional, and the other is not. This isn't to say that hiring a PFH (as I’ll now call them, since pales-for-hire is a mouthful) can’t be beneficial to your mental health, or that they don't know what they’re doing. To explain, I've heard some say that a PFH is just a cheap brand of therapist, which is true if you consider painkillers to be a cheap brand of actual prescribed medication. I'm guessing you don't, but if you do, I demand that you immediately book a doctor’s appointment, if you can afford it; if not, ring me up and I will personally give you financial assistance because you might have a whole host of horrible health problems lying dormant that could be prevented just by telling your doctor you've had a pain in your gut that might be, I don't know, a kidney stone or something that definitely can't be solved by painkillers.

Anyway, a PFH can help you sometimes, the same way a painkiller can alleviate symptoms of an illness. We've established that. This is especially the case if your problem is only temporary, like a breakup that makes you feel like you really need a hug, or you got fired and need a good papping before you go nuts and kill your git of a boss. If you have a long-term problem or mental health problems, however, the PFH is probably not equipped in the slightest to help you deal with that, just as painkillers will not cure a disease.

Remember, to become a therapist you need at least a masters degree, but to become a PFH you do not, and there are some people who are so ill-informed about mental health issues they might actually make your problems worse. Ever had a friend who told you to deal with your problems by telling you to just ‘cheer up, frowny face’? That's the kind of person you might encounter while paying for a PFH’s services. While they may be naturally empathetic and excellent shooshpappers, they simply aren't qualified to help you with your depression or PTSD, or any of the more ‘complicated’ diagnoses like schizophrenia or autism spectrum disorder.

Similarly, there are services that you should not ever expect your therapist to provide that a PFH can. You can ask your therapist to be open about themselves and tell you things about their personal life if they are relevant, and you can ask them to adopt a casual tone and vocabulary when talking to you so they seem less imposing, but therapists are not your friends, let alone your moirail. Neither are PFHs, technically, but you pay them for the illusion that they are, whereas with therapists you should always be aware that the person is no more your friend than your doctor is, unless you don't have a doctor, in which case I refer you to my third paragraph again.

Furthermore, while you can cry and feel free to be as open about yourself as you want in therapy, like you might tell your doctor about the rash you have in a very strange place, it's inappropriate to sit down with your therapist on a pile of cushions and hug them for an extended length of time. That kind of physical contact is simply not appropriate -- not for you, and not for the therapist. In fact, getting personally involved with your patient is against the law and if your therapist starts entangling themselves in quadrants or quadrant-like behaviour with you, that is enough grounds for you to at least change to another therapist.

Think of it this way: if your therapist started flirting with you in a session, would it be appropriate behaviour? No. Then it is the same thing with papping and other related behaviors. The relationship between patient and therapist is supposed to be focused entirely on working through the patient’s issues, and the anything the therapist does should be in pursuit of that goal and not of their own desires. The therapist can be a blank slate for you to throw words at, or a friendly presence through which you work out your personal problems, but they are not actually your friend (though they should like you or at least be neutral about you; if they don't, it probably won't be very beneficial for you to work with them.)

To summarise:

PFHs are helpful sometimes, but are not a long-term solution if you have long-term problems or actual mental health issues, and are not qualified to help you with (or diagnose you with, or provide prescriptions for) your mental health problems. That is the job of a therapist (or, with regard to diagnosis and prescription, a psychiatrist). They are somewhat similar to counsellors, except they are not qualified professionals but are the person to look for if you need something similar to a moirail at that point in your life;

Therapists have degrees and are qualified to handle your bigger problems or your mental health issues -- they know the techniques and have the background knowledge to do so -- and are the only ones able to refer you to psychiatrists as to get you prescription drugs should you need them, but are not your friends or moirails and should be treated accordingly.

Therapy, all its associated branches, and PFHs are both valuable services that can help an individual, but confusing the two can lead to more harm than good. Additionally, these services are looked down upon by the government for showing ‘weakness' or being ‘unnecessary’, but these are falsehoods propagated by a government that encourages mental instability in those of higher hues and dismisses the problems of mid and lower hues, which only makes an already chaotic and frightening world even more so. You should never be ashamed for having flaws and weakness, and NEVER ashamed of mental health problems or disorders, and if you ever seek help -- whether it is through the temporary balm of a PFH, or the professional help of a psychotherapist -- know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with doing so.