#in the end diagnosis doesn't really matter

[hel7l7]

Are you anti self-dx entirely?

To be honest... I don't know. There's so much nuance to make on the entire subject...

And everything I say about this feels wrong. I just hope everyone is careful with it all.

( Edit: half of the tags on this got deleted bcs apparently there's a max tags you can add... anyway enjoy the ramble if there are any more questions please ask them bcs I do not want misunderstandings or anything ;))

[astraltrickster]

I want to introduce a disability concept that I've been calling paradoxical stigma.

What is paradoxical stigma? It's the stigma against:

1) The actually disabling traits of a disability that's in the spotlight for the parts of it that are convenient to accommodate, and/or

2) The diagnosis of such a disability itself,

Due to the assumption that the spotlight renders it "destigmatized" and no longer in need of support.

As of right now, at least around this corner of the internet, the most obvious examples of this are autism and ADHD. It's become disturbingly common for people to treat those like Diet Disabilities That Don't Actually Count. It's been really interesting to watch the popular attitude about these disorders shift from "autism is either a tragedy or an excuse depending on 'severity', and ADHD is just a myth used to drug kids into complicity instead of teaching them actual skills", to "actually these are real disorders that affect people in all aspects of their lives", to "I GUESS they're real disorders but honestly EVERYONE has them can't we worry about more SERIOUS ones?" and...not in a good way.

It comes up...partially as a legitimate backlash to people with these disorders who think that invisible disability and/or neurodivergence begins and ends at their experience, and...yeah, that's a problem all right, in fact if I had a dollar for every asshole who looked at my struggles with things like keeping my space clean or not fucking up my medication doses DUE TO ADHD and went "well I have the same diagnosis and I don't have THAT problem to THAT extent, obviously you're just lazy and careless", or saw me having an AUTISTIC meltdown and called it "bullying" or worse because I get loud and insisted that I NEED to CONTROL that CHOSEN BEHAVIOR if I want to not be a Bad Person, or heard about how AUTISTIC overstimulation defense measures play into my trouble with cleaning and insisted that well THEY'RE autistic too and don't have that specific problem so this is clearly weaponized helplessness because I just don't WANT to learn to do better, I'd...probably have a lot more assistive tech. I also get really, really frustrated and upset when people use RSD to mean "if you ever criticize me that's the height of ableism, no matter how much I'm actually fucking up and hurting you" - especially since it's so often invoked as a defense against being lightly criticized for ACTUALLY harmful behavior and as much as it sucks there IS no substitute to make that more emotional-dysregulation-friendly beyond basic kindness in criticism. That attitude exists. It's bad.

And yet, theoretically, I think we could all agree that the response to that should NEVER be to reinvent the old "ugh, those aren't REAL disabilities, those are just EXCUSES that LAZY PARENTS make for kids being kids, what they need is DISCIPLINE" stereotype of the 90s-2000s, just now aimed at those same kids as adults, in ostensibly supportive spaces - or arguably worse, to revert all our understanding of support needs to the externally judged high-functioning/low-functioning dichotomy.

What really sets this apart as paradoxical stigma, rather than just garden-variety lateral ableism, is that 1) we CAN theoretically all agree that reinventing those stereotypes is a terrible response, yet many people do it anyway, and 2) these stereotypes are invoked not only because of that intracommunity misbehavior, but both within and outside of disabled spaces, because of the illusion that you can bring up those disorders and have them taken seriously because fidget toys and stim videos and weighted blankets are popular now. An event having quiet rooms, or backlash to Autism Speaks being visible outside of autistic spaces, will be taken as "proof" that autism stigma is over forever and anyone who complains about it is just a whiner who doesn't know how good they have it...even when what they're complaining about is, say, being barred from migration. Paradoxical stigma is enacted by people who think that they, alone, are standing up against someone who's throwing others under the bus to continue to progress their own limited agenda...when in fact they're speaking a very popular shitty opinion, that MANY of the people making that claim would disagree with HEAVILY once separated from the "crab bucket reflex".

As a personal example, the result is that when I'm looking for assistance, I'm...hesitant to bring up those diagnoses, because I know I'm going to be written off as "obviously a high-functioning low-support needs scammer who just doesn't WANT to CONTRIBUTE TO SOCIETY and EARN things" - even by people who otherwise agree that people should be allowed to survive even if they truly are the living strawman lazy bum who has nothing wrong with them but just WANTS to lay around eating junk food and doing drugs all day, AND that disability deserves to be respected, isn't black-and-white, and affects everyone differently; somehow when these combine in the context of my diagnoses that have had a very sanitized version of themselves "destigmatized" on TikTok, they cancel out into blatant reactionary sentiment indistinguishable from what I'd hear from my shitty token Republican uncle.

So, that's paradoxical stigma. Feel free to use the term if you find it useful.

[copperbadge]

One of the things I used to do when I was having creative difficulties was to declare a moratorium on creation -- say to myself, "Well, you're blocked or frustrated with everything. Maybe no more writing for the rest of the month," and then no matter what, I would commit to doing no more writing until the set date. I was just giving myself permission to take a little space without guilt, but once I'm not allowed to create, I tend to want to, so it's often been not just restful but rejuvenating. I have other coping methods that I've built, so I haven't had to do it in a long time, but apparently it still works.

The last two weeks have been a lot of travel, socializing and work, and I haven't had a ton of time or space to myself. It's been for good reasons, and overall very positive, but I've done essentially no fiction writing, especially since before that I was getting Royals/Ramblers out the door and pulling the Omnibus V2 together. But this morning I sat down before the day really began and realized I did actually want to write. I didn't get to actually do much because R and baby U woke up and I wanted to cook breakfast and hang out with them, but at least I wanted to write, and had a vague idea of how to attack it.

Life keeps feeling unreal -- I keep thinking something's profoundly off, and then realizing yeah, I've been putting my entire normal existence on hold for weeks on end. Even when I've been in Chicago I've been sick and work's had some unusual challenges, and there have been a few novel personal life events. A lot of what I have done has also been laced with an anxiety I don't normally have to deal with, for one reason or another.

Tomorrow are the last few hurdles -- I have to get to the airport and I have a non-direct flight to Chicago for the first time in over a decade, which are always stressful. Once I'm home, it's just the usual travel recovery: laundry, cooking, reassuring kitties. I have to get through the rest of the week's work, but at least there's nothing too intensive. The weekend is mainly free, though I'm going to try and see if I can see a few people socially and do some shopping for a party I'm throwing the following weekend.

It does feel like the hits keep coming, like this hectic pace is just my life now, but I know that I'll be home, with time and resources I haven't had in a while, and things will slowly ease up. I was telling myself I had to hold on until April 10th, and really it's going to be more like the end of April before silence truly descends, but at least after tomorrow I'll have time to write and finally the motivation as well.

I do feel sometimes like there was a "normal" that I had established which started slowly vanishing after the ADHD diagnosis, and I'm not sure I'm equipped to build a new one in the same way. That said, I'm sure I'll settle back into a groove once I'm sleeping in my own bed for more than two nights running.

It feels like the space I had carved in the world for myself now doesn't quite fit me anymore. It's a neutral kind of sensation -- not comfortable, but not painful, and equally not very productive. But it's not like I evaporate if I don't figure it out immediately, I suppose.

[trans-axolotl2]

Fuck the DSM. Seriously, fuck the DSM.

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

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

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

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

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

[krakenartificer]

Who wants a really sad Leverage headcanon?

Was re-watching the Gimme a K Street Job -- Season 5 Episode 5 -- and a couple of things stood out to me.

1) Nate says "Let's go steal some congresspeople", and then sends everyone on the team (except Parker, who's being a cheer coach) out to con one of their targets. But it feels like there's a profound mismatch in who gets which mark.

For the "not like other girls" feminist congresswoman who's inclined to dismiss cheer as worthless and demeaning, you need Eliot to come in looking like a man who very much knows what does and does not count as a sport, and be his tiny angry respect-women-juice self about how regardless of what you think of their choice of clothing they are working as hard as any other athlete and they deserve safety as much as anyone else. But instead they sent Hardison.

For the "Yes I am very busy and important; admire me" chairman, you need Sophie, who is better than anyone else on the planet at making you feel admirable when you're doing what she wants, and scummy and low when you're not doing what she wants. But instead they sent Eliot.

For the "Look I am trying, but I need corn subsidies or I won't be able to do anything else" newbie congressman, Hardison could happily have gone on an infinitely recurring series of fetch quests until he sees the place where they loop around and bottom out and every problem solves every other problem. But instead they sent Sophie.

2) Eliot struggles the most, so Nate works with him the most, but he doesn't help him out hardly at all; he just keeps saying, "So what's your next play?" and then revealing that he's already anticipated Eliot's next play and has all the materials in place to enact it. And of course, they do eventually get the dude on board, and it all works out, but afterwards, Eliot tells Nate, "I trust that some time soon you'll tell me why you had me slogging through all that when you already knew how to hook him."

And of course, knowing what we now know about how season 5 ends, it makes sense that Nate is trying to train the OT3 to work without him, looking for his replacement.

Except.

If the plan is to fuck off into the sunset with Sophie, then why did he throw Sophie into this uncomfortable not-my-wheelhouse scenario?

No, Nate's preparing the entire team to carry on without him. He's forcing them to learn how to plan, learn different ways of approaching problems, to think about bigger pictures and approach them strategically.

...

I think Nate just got the first diagnosis of the disease that's finally going to kill him. And again, we -- the audience -- now know that he's going to live for many years after that initial diagnosis. But he doesn't know that, at this point. He knows he's tested positive, and he knows it's eventually going to kill him, and he has no idea how long he has.

And in some sense, it doesn't matter how long he has. Three months or thirty years, that kind of revelation makes it stunningly clear that taking care of the people you love means making sure that they can take care of themselves.

So that's what he does: he throws them into new, uncomfortable situations where they'll have to grow and support each other without him, so that no matter what happens, they'll be able to keep going. Because he's not a nice person, Jimmy Ford's son, but by God does he know the importance of protecting your family.

[dissociacrip]

it might seem weird at first but it's true that having symptomatic joint hypermobility (meaning the "bad" kind of hypermobility that results in chronic pain, a proneness to dislocation/sublixation, etc. such as in EDS, hypermobility spectrum disorders, and other CTDs) doesn't necessarily mean being very flexible and sometimes this can potentially present a problem when it comes to accurate assessment and diagnosis. part of this is because flexibility doesn't just involve joints; it also involves muscles and other soft tissues.

i have generalized symptomatic hypermobility (either gHSD or hEDS, who knows because it's not like i'm getting properly diagnosed anytime soon) and i'm an 8/9 on the beighton scale. i've been incapable of touching my toes since elementary school because my hamstring muscles have shortened over time due to the strain from compensating for hyperextended joints and hypotonia. i can't meet the 9th beighton criteria where i place my palms flat on the floor without bending my knees, but that doesn't mean i don't have a hypermobile spine, because its my shortened hamstring muscles that are preventing the movement, not the joints. i was just doing stretches at the gym earlier today for cooldowns that looked absurdly easy for the able-bodied person in the video i was following but i couldn't bend my legs to the full extent that they did due to other shortened muscles in my legs, which is also a consequence of hyperextended joints and hypotonia.*** i think it's easy to guess why something like that might end up masking the full extent of joint hypermobility in some people.

(***for people who don't know what hypotonia is, it's when there's inadequate tension in the muscles in the resting state or in response to a passive stretch, such as posture. in other words, muscles are too loose, which can cause a myriad of really sucky problems! it's the result of CNS dysfunction and/or structural problems in the muscles - conditions like EDS and other CTDs sometimes involve hypotonia due how they can affect viscoelastic properties of muscles. while being characterised by "floppiness," hypotonia can still result in stiffness and shortening of the adductors, quadriceps, sub-occipital muscles, etc.)

in more extreme cases, this kind strain can lead to muscle contracture, which is when a muscle is permanently shortened and hardened. joints themselves can also become contractured, and as a matter of fact, contractures appear to be part of how some forms of EDS are identified, such as myopathic and musculocontractural EDS (it's even in the name of the last one.) this is a quote from someone with mcEDS from elhers-danlos.com ("Musculocontractural EDS: My puzzle pieces put together") though i know the EDS society doesn't have the best rep:

When I was born 8 weeks premature by emergency caesarean, the doctors and Mum and Dad were stunned. Apart from requiring life-saving treatment, I was floppy, and also had major obvious deformities of my limbs and dislocated hips. I had contractures in my hands, fingers, shoulders, hips, ankles and feet. I have very little muscle in my neck, arms and legs. I spent 10 weeks in NICU and was diagnosed with Arthrogryposis at birth.

(...)

The contractures affect me in different ways. My hands are always clenched, and they do not open out properly. I’m unable to tie my hair up myself unless I am lying on my back, which allows gravity to pull my arms back. I can’t put my hair behind my ears with my right hand unless I’m using my left hand to push it backwards. Although I am right handed, the fingers on my right hand don’t open more than 2 inches and I’m unable to pick anything up with that hand. My left hand is far more deformed, but I can grab things with that hand and use it to stabilise my right. I carry things on my right side in between my arm and torso in the crook of my elbow and I look like an axe murderer when holding a knife.

so yeah, ironically enough, sometimes being symptomatically hypermobile involves a limited range of motion rather than being especially flexible. that's your fun fact of the day!

[coreancitizen]

'Marry My Husband' episode 12

Some thoughts before tomorrow's episode 13 of "Marry My Husband"

The Yura character — She wasn't introduced out of the blue. She'd been mentioned often enough and teased enough from the beginning that she was bound to show up. I figured it was going to be some kind of stunt casting because the show was hiding her face. Lost on me though, I have no idea who the actress is.

Yura is not in the webtoon — Yes. But she is in the webnovel, on which the series is actually based on. Whether she's the best character/plot the writers of the series could have picked up from the novel is debatable. But they definitely needed something for the leads after the wedding because in the webtoon, the focus pretty much shifts to Minhwan and Sumin's growing misery as well as Juran's domestic troubles.

Jiwon's reaction to Yura's appearance — OK, this is the part that has caused quite a bit of uproar. What I'm getting is that folks are confused, angry at Jiwon because Jihyuk and Huiyeon both explained he didn't cheat on her and yet she cut off the relationship just like that.

I agree this is about cheating, but I think folks may be looking at it wrong — Jiwon was looking at Yura as the one being cheated on, not her. That in this scenario, she, Jiwon, is the other woman. Like her mom who made the one-sided decision to cut off her relationship with her dad and leave them both, Jihyuk made the one-sided decision to call off his longtime engagement to Yura. This was underscored by the flashback at the beginning of episode 12, when young Jiwon comes across Dad sobbing as he watches Mom with another guy. "... no matter how long you endure, those left behind get hurt. No matter what the relationship is, once it's started, I don't think it's right for one person to end it one-sidedly."

Why didn't she listen to Jihyuk or Huiyeon? Because, like Jiwon said, everything sounded like an excuse. The hurt from long ago was blocking all logic for her. Plus, I don't think she really had time to process because they were immediately hit with the whammy that is Manager Yang's cancer diagnosis. There's that whole "oh shit, I transferred my miserable fate to one of my favorite people" mind fuck on top of all this.

Also, she doesn't know what a witch Yura is (hearing about it and seeing it for herself are very different things) . Once Jiwon finds out and then gets the reminder of how shitty her mom is, she goes to see Jihyuk. Doesn't talk to him but it is a step toward him. I can't be mad at that.

Could this angst have been handled better? Absolutely, given how confused people got.

Anyway, this would all be resolved in tomorrow's episode, I feel. Preview shows Jiwon by Jihyuk's side at the hospital. Don't think she'll be stepping back after that and we'll get our power couple in action again soon.

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. | Homesick

He's not sure what's worse- the fact that he now knows what's wrong, or the fact that he now knows he can't do anything to help you.

Tags/Warnings: Spin off, Doctor!Yoongi, Cat Hybrid!Reader, mentions of hospitals, Mentions of a coma, major angst, slight fluff?, a lot of hurt, it's your daily dose of angst you masochists

Length: Drabble

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There's not much Yoongi truly regrets. After all, he's a firm believer that even the bad things in life happen for a reason- it's all somewhat connected. It all leads you to the next step in life.

But if that's the case, then why did the world gift him you, just to have you taken away like this?

He knows it's only a matter of time until your body gives up. It's already happening, after all- your breathing has become less regulated, blood pressure steadily declining. He knows it's unrealistic to think that you'll forever stay in this state. You won't.

Even if you wake up now, you won't be the same. You'll probably have to fight the aftereffects and impact on your brain for months if not years. And that's a very optimistic prognosis.

The more realistic one would be to assume that you'll be a case of permanent full on care. If you ever wake up.

He dreads the question soon to be asked. What does he want to do?

Can he let you go?

In times like these, when being at home makes him homesick to the point of nausea, he tends to visit you, no matter how late. It's how he finds himself at your bedside again, steady tune of your bpm monitor reassuring him that for now, you're still here.

No matter how much of you.

Watching you sleep like this makes it hard to really comprehend that there's not much to do here at all. There's nothing he can do to help you recover because, at the end of the day, the diagnosis is still being studied.

He can't help. He can only hope.

Holding your hand has begun to feel odd now. Like a tune not played quite right, it feels off to just cling to your body like this, when your soul might've very well already left you long ago. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do.." he mumbles to himself, mostly.

Or maybe he's just at the end of his hope.

Maybe he's the one losing this battle now.

"I know I have to let you go, but I don't want to." He shakes his head. "I didn't even get to experience anything with you." He sighs to himself. "Fuck.." the doctor wipes his face with his free hand.

He sighs again, and gets up to leave-

But your fingers cling to his own, holding a lot more tightly than usual. Maybe a simple muscle memory response- nothing to be excited about. He's learned to keep those feelings in check by now, after having been disappointed time and time again.

So he gently pulls your fingers away from his hand.

And you.. whine?

Your bpm is rising a little, machine complaining with a chime about the change in tempo, and he looks at you a bit more focused, noticing the way your breathing doesn't seem as calm as it usually is.

"No, you're not-!" He curses, turning the lights of the room back on. "You're not fucking taking her from me yet-!" He argues to no one.

When your fingers wrap around his wrist where his hand is pushing down on the hospital bed to gain better leverage to look at your monitor.

"No way.." he breathes out, leaning closer to you as he watches the tears run down your cheeks. It's not new that you're able to cry- you've randomly done that in the past, but during post comatose wakefulness, that's not unusual.

But he hopes. He wants to hope.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asks. "Is that it? Come on, you know how it works, give me an answer-" he begs in a whispered tone,

But nothing happens.

"God dammit what am I supposed to do?!" He breaks down, falling back into the chair next to your bed, finally breaking as he cries into the sheets.

And your hand is suddenly moving around again, as if searching for something, before it settles in his hair, on his head.

And as he lifts it to look at you, your eyes are open. But not just open- because that's what they've done for weeks now, time and time again, hurting him with every empty gaze.

Because this time, albeit a bit tearful-

They're not just open.

They're looking at him.

You're looking at him.

You're back.

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[russellsppttemplates]

How much of their struggle to have a babies did y/n and Lance's families know? Like, did they keep things more between themselves, or did they share with few people( like y/n mom or Choe)?

Tw: infertility, IVF treatments

"Do you want me to go with you?", Lance wondered, "you wouldn't mind?", you replied, "of course not, sweetheart. We're in this together", he kissed your knuckles, "besides, your mother texted me yesterday saying that she had baked those little cakes I love", he smirked.

"Mom", you called, "remind me again of what happened when aunt and uncle were trying to have a baby", you asked. Having someone in the family with a similar diagnosis to yours meant that the baby questions were somewhat carefully thought through before someone asked them, so asking your mum, you figured, would be safe.

"Oh, well, they tried for a really long time, she took some hormones to help with her ovulation, because she had a low egg count", she said, "at the time, they also saw a specialist but the treatments were not an option for her, but around a year, a year and a half later, your cousin arrived", she finished, "something on your mind?".

"We've been doing the whole calendar thing and ovulation sticks, but it's yet to work", you admitted, "we both have healthy counts, so it's something else, but this really sucks, you know?", you blurted, feeling her hug you to her side, "I'm sorry, darling, but it will all work for the best, I'm sure of it", she kissed your forehead, "besides, it doesn't look like it's a job to try, you know? You have a very handsome looking husband", she smirked as you swatted her hand, "besides, as long as there is love between you two, you'll be good".

.

As much as you didn't feel like shouting out to everyone in the world that you would be undergoing fertility treatments to start building your family, you knew you and Lance needed support. Not because you were ashamed or embarrassed, but it was still a personal matter that involved your families, and having their support would be good to fall back on.

When you arrived at your parents' house, your father was quick to get some drinks out while your mother made some tea and got the little cakes to the coffee table, "so, Lance, everything fine at work?", you dad began, "yes, it's been going really well, actually", he smiled talking about a few new topics and some they had discussed the previous visit you had payed them.

"You're a bit quiet, darling, is everything okay?", your mother noticed, rubbing your thigh from her seat by your side, "Actually, I've been meaning to tell you something, we have, actually", you gulped, "We have been to Dr. Marlin's office again because we've been having trouble with trying for a baby, and as it turns out, it's a blocked fallopian tube, so things aren't ending up where they should end up and it makes the whole thing pretty much impossible this way",

"Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry", she got up to hug you before your dad gestured the sign you've had since you were little. You sometimes got scared when going to school, so whenever you were already inside the gate and he couldn't give you another hug after dropping you off, he would slightly cross his arms on his chest as if he was hugging you and you would do the same before stretching out your pointer finger as he did the same, pretending you were touching his. It had become a silly thing when you were little, but it quickly became your thing.

"We are going to begin the treatments soon, hopefully", Lance took over, "Dr. Marlin just needs to get the cycle up to speed and sorted out, and then we begin them when Y/N is comfortable enough", Lance noted, absentmindedly grabbed your hand in his, his thumb rubbing the skin.

"Honey, if there is anything we can help you, help you both", your father said, "let us know. You're not going through this alone", he smiled.

.

"How are you doing with all of it?", Chloe asked her younger brother as she bounced her little one in her arms. Scotty and Chloe had finally felt okay enough to welcome visitors to meet the new addition to the Stroll-James family and you and Lance also found the time to vist them between both of your schedules.

"I've been good. I think now that we know what is happening, we know how to deal with it. We kept trying and it wasn't working, so to know why it wasn't working and that there is a way to help it's comforting", he admitted, "Y/N has been good, too, I think. I've made sure she's telling me how she feels and whenever things get too much so we can work it out together, like a team", he smiled, stretching his arm and softly touching his nephew's cheek.

"I was so scared to invite you because I didn't want Y/N to feel bad about it. I know it's stupid to try and put myself in her position when I've never had issues, but I didn't want either of you feeling bad", Chloe added, "thanks for your consideration, but I think it's fine", Lance smiled as he heard Scotty's footsteps and your giggles coming their way.

"I'm proud of you, Lance", his sister complimented, "of the man you've become. I'm not saying I doubted you'd be like this, but it's a pleasure to see you like this", she nudged him, seeing her husband and you walking into the living room.

"Hey, look who's up!", you cooed at the little bow, "can Auntie Y/N have a cuddle? It's okay if it's not, though", you checked with your sister in-law, "of course it's okay, it gives me time to go to the bathroom!", she cheered, passing her son to your arms, "hello, sweet boy, you're wide awake now, aren't you?", you smiled, touching his soft cheek and seeing his light coloured eyes now open, "here", you heard Lance call you, arranging the space next to him on the sofa so you could sit next to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "are you feeling good?", he wondered, checking in as you smiled at him, "yes, I am. Thank you for checking in", you kissed his cheek, "and this is good practice, isn't it? Isn't it, gorgeous boy? Yes, it is", you cooed at your nephew, hoping that this was a practice moment for what was to come.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[jaskierx]

Ngl, as someone who is ADHD, and has seen a lot of discussion around Taika having ADHD traits (I mean, I relate to him in a lot of ways from what I've seen of him, but I also try not to make a habit of armchair diagnosing celebs that I don't know, because I don't know them), it's rubbing me in weird places seeing everyone parrot the 'he gets bored of projects' and 'he would never have been able to last three seasons' as if it's fact despite that absolutely NOT being the case or evident in any of his history? I feel like people are just weirdly projecting all these negative ADHD stereotypes onto him regardless of whether or not they actually fit him, and it's giving me the ick in so many ways.

yeah i feel exactly the same. not only is it doing a massive disservice to taika but it's also based on some really shitty stereotypes about adhd

my partner has a diagnosis of adhd and takes meds for it (both which are hard to get in the uk, especially if you're under an nhs psychiatrist, which he is). before he was on meds, he would regularly lose things, he couldn't remember my birthday, he'd forget to eat, he'd lose track of time really easily, he got fired from multiple jobs bc he kept making mistakes at work

know what he didn't do? drop important projects that once mattered to him completely on a whim bc he decided he was bored of them

because adhd doesn't fucking cause that

people with adhd aren't inherently unable to commit to long term stuff. taika is not inherently unable to commit to long term stuff. he is incredibly good at what he does. he works on lots of things simultaneously. he has seen stuff through to the end after it's been stuck in the pipeline for literal years. there is absolutely no legit reason to believe he wouldn't be up for a third season

and based on the wording i wonder if some of this is also people deciding that ed as a character has commitment issues and is easily bored and then projecting that onto taika. which is just shit all round and needs to stop

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for holding a grudge against my sister?

A few years ago, I (25F) accidentally locked myself out of my car after taking my dog to the vet. My cell phone was around 15%, my service was low, the vet office was closing, and I was 90 minutes from home on a very rural road I didn't know.

I called my sister (29F) for help. I wanted her to get me the number for AAA since I didn't have my card on me. She told me that she was busy at work preparing for Open House at her school the next day and told me to look it up online. I tried to explain that my phone was close to dying and she replied that she was stressed out too and she didn't have time to deal with this.

After a terse conversation, I did look up the number and called AAA. It turned out that our service had not only expired, but because we had moved we would need a new account. My sister and I shared our AAA account (a gift from our dad), so I called her back again. I explained that I needed her to login on her computer and fix our account so I could call AAA for help. She yelled at me that she didn't have time for any of this and that she was really stressed out about having parents in her classroom the next day. (For context, she has an anxiety disorder and was a newish teacher.) I tried to explain again that my phone was close to dying and once it did I wouldn't have access to any communication. The vet office had closed and the nearest town was at least three miles down the road.

She just kept on talking about how stressed she was and how she didn't have time. I don't like confrontation and my sister is much more forceful than I am, but this time I really did try to push back. I told her that I needed her and that all she had to do was fix the account on her computer so I could call for help. She refused.

The conversation ended with me hanging up, afraid of wasting even more of my phone battery, and crying next to my car. I was already upset because of my dog's recent diagnosis (at two years old, she would need a really expensive surgery to be able to run again) and I was at the end of my rope. I don't cry easily, and I have a hard time expression deep emotions to anyone, even my sister. It felt like I was constantly helping my sister and being there for her and the one time I was the one upset and needed help she blew me off. I felt betrayed.

Eventually, I was able to call AAA again and make the payment over the phone. The woman was really great and got me help even though technically AAA rules said they shouldn't have started my service until the next day. I got my car unlocked, drove home, and never told my sister about how I upset I had been.

Flash forward a few months and guess who got a flat tire? Yup, my sister. When she tried to use AAA, she ran into the same problem I had -- our account was expired and no longer in the right area. She called me for help and asked to be added to my account...and I said no.

She got *really* mad at me and extremely stressed out. I did end up getting her towed, but I was bitter about it. It felt like her emotions were once again taking precedent over my own and that my hurt didn't matter.

This past week, my sister mentioned getting AAA again and asked about sharing an account. Ever since the incident at the vet, I have kept my individual policy and she hasn't gotten a new one. I said no. I was pretty short about it, and she seemed somewhat annoyed.

We've never talked about the vet incident or how betrayed I felt. I realize that I hung up the phone before I started crying so it is possible she doesn't know just how deeply she had hurt me. I also realize that it has been almost five years since then and our relationship is otherwise very solid, but I still hold a grudge about this.

Am I the asshole for still holding a grudge?

What are these acronyms?

[p1nkshield]

Greetings and welcome to Chapter Seven!

Bruce kept checking and rechecking the security footage. One moment his son and the surprise guest were talking in the cave and the next a rift opens up pulling them both through.

“Hn”

Not good.

“Barbara.”

Bruce decided to call in the big guns on this one.

“Hello Bruce, I would say it’s nice to hear from you but considering this is the emergency line I'm concerned. What’s up?"

"Jason is missing."

Bruce let words fall out of his mouth quickly. He didn’t want to make his worries so apparent. He didn’t want to lose his composure. Losing his composure could cause mistakes in his detective work.

Bruce could hear the first few questions that Barbara posed.

"What do mean he's missing? Like he's left the manor? I can try to track him if you want."

Bruce nodded.

Of course he put an inter-dimensional tracker into the comms he gave to all of his children. This was exactly why.

Bruce rechecked the security footage.

For once Jason was actually wearing his.

good.

All the while Barbara was entering something into the computer on her end.

"I'm not getting anything for Jason's location..."

Bruce was truly concerned now.

He needed a lead to latch onto. Something he can focus on to keep his mind from wandering to extreme conclusions. Bruce then reviewed the audio recording from his cameras.

"Take us to Frostbite!"

"Wait!"

Frostbite? Was that a place or a person? Where have they gone that his tracker was out of range? Was it out of range or was it broken?

"You called me before listening to the audio from the security cam?"

"..."

Barbara decided not to press the matter.

"We have a lead, but I'm not really equipped to follow it. The only thing coming up for "Frostbite" is the medical condition and Icicle Jr.'s really sub par band"

Bruce's worry mixed with reluctance.

"Constantine."

"What is this now! Two calls from spooky the bat this year? I'm just tapping my toes with joy. What cataclysmic event do you have for me?"

Jason felt as though he had accidentally caught Superman's cape with his grappling hook.

He wrenched his eyes shut as he hurtled through space via map. Danny on the other hand was enjoying every moment of the journey, grinning as they flew to their destination.

Jason found himself face down among ice, snow and glaciers.

"Great One! It is good to see you, and you've returned the infinimap! You are truly full of surprises."

Jason managed to dislodge his face from the snow bank in time to see Danny being clapped jovially on the back by an eight foot tall yeti.

He could only blink.

"Who is this new guest you've brought with you?"

Jason was then scruffed like a kitten, placed on his feet and had the snow gently dusted off of his head by an eight foot tall yeti.

"That's Jason. He's cool, I promise. I was wondering if you could give us both a check up though. If you haven’t noticed yet he doesn't have a core yet and I'm tinier than usual."

Frostbite looked appraisingly between both Danny and Jason.

"And here I was about to applaud you on finally mastering shapeshifting! No matter, a friend to the savior of the infinite realms is a friend of mine. Follow me! You both shall receive the best care we can offer!"

Jason shuffled through the snow, following an eight foot tall yeti.

Said eight foot tall yeti managed to make Jason feel surprisingly comfortable in his presence. That is until he came to his diagnosis.

"Let me get this straight. I'm basically an infant, I’m ectoplasmicly malnourished, and I will eventually have powers?"

"Essentially, yes."

Danny snickered from a distance.

Jason really missed being a regular old zombie.

"What if I told you that I do not believe you?"

Frostbite mirthfully chuckled.

"If that were true I would ask you why you survived drinking ectoplasm."

Jason conceded.

"Ya got me there."

"That I do!"

Frostbite then addressed Danny

"Great One, I must admit this is not the safest place for either of you to heal and grow respectively. It has come to my attention that your parents are accepting payment in order for a certain Organization to have access to the portal."

Danny quietly processed the information, looking far too profoundly tired than any child should.

"How can I help?"

Frostbite carried two large tanks into the center of the room.

"Rest, heal and allow yourself to delegate tasks amongst your subjects."

Frostbite then knelt down to Danny's level and placed a large paw on his shoulder.

"We will be fine here Danny."

He then got up and lifted the two tanks.

"You both need to have a good supply of ectoplasm where you are staying. I think one of these will be enough for both you to reach a point where your cores are properly formed or reformed."

Frostbite carried the two tanks to out to the second most interesting individual Jason has met today.

"Wulf!"

Danny apparently knew this werewolf enough to greet him happily.

"Wulf, if you would be so inclined, can you open a portal to the dimension this young man is from?"

This Wulf as Jason has now gleaned sniffed him aggressively then nodded.

This is totally normal and fine.

Wulf then used his claws and ripped a portal out of thin air into the batcave.

Great.

Danny traipsed through the portal as if it was a door. Jason decided to help Frostbite push the tanks through the portal to feel some semblance of knowing what is happening.

Frostbite left them with well wishes as the portal closed.

Jason tried his best to wipe the bewildered look off his face when he realized the batcave was currently occupied.

Bruce had apparently started an entire search party with the rest of his family.

Tim had his detective wall of documents all pinned up.

Damian was arguing about the placement of the string.

Dick was pacing a few yards away from the wall.

Bruce was about to get carpal tunnel with the speed at which he was typing, his monitor was split between a database and a call with Constantine.

That is until the scraping of large metal tanks stopped them all in their tracks.

Jason waved.

"Hey"

He was immediately tackled by his older brother and squeezed into a hug.

"You can't scare us like that Jace!"

Bruce hung up on Constantine and walked towards him.

"Sorry I spooked you I didn’t really have time to leave a note-"

Interrupted, Jason and Dick by proxy was swept into a hug by Bruce.

Bruce let go.

"Let me know before you travel extra dimensionally."

He then left.

Dick had yet to let go, continuing his fretting.

"You just disappeared! None of use could find you! Never ever do that to me again. I swear you’re going to make me go bald with stress! Do you want me to look like Lex?"

Jason managed to get out of the vice grip Dick had on him.

"I'm sorry, okay? I go to the ghost doctor once and everyone thinks I've been kidnaped!"

Tim piped up

"To be fair it did look a lot like you got kidnaped by an inter dimensional map"

Dick managed to look even more worried.

"What do you mean a ghost doctor!?"

Jason shrugged.

"Exactly what I said. Found out I'm a baby ghost."

"A baby half ghost! Wellcome to the club, you are one of very few halfas in existence."

Jason took that information in

"What he said."

@shinyladykingdom @kyrianclawraith @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @darkhinauniverse @krzys2000 @coruscateselene @kjoboo91 @vythika96 @hydralusus @addie-lover-of-stories @skulld3mort-1fan

Also I don't want to flood people's notifs with my silly little fanfic so if you want me to continue to tag you let me know! Also sometimes I can't find the blog people ask me to tag them with so if you asked to be tagged and weren’t it wasn’t on purpose!

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

i'm on my aspd izaya bullshit again but like. thru this lens, isnt his arc a perfect encapsulation on how aspd negatively affects the person that has it? even to this day, many professionals do not believe that pwASPD suffer from aspd. like at all. to the point where aspd was specifically listed as an outlier to the "patient distress is what defines a disorder" rule in an abnormal psych textbook

(see why i don't respect the field?)

but... he does suffer! a lot! like- remember his speech to mikado at the end of the first arc? how you need to keep evolving, keep changing in order to escape the mundane? how you have to keep going and going and going, wether it be aiming high or low?

yeah. normal people don't need to do this, izaya. you are a broken person.

but why SHOULD he be content with the mundane? the things people usually have that make them content with daily life- friends, family, a purpose, a distinct lack of extreme chronic boredom that drives you to do completely insane shit- izaya doesn't HAVE any of that!

"wait, chronic boredom?" i hear yall thinking. maybe. "isnt that an adhd thing?"

more than one disorder can have the same symptom. theres like a billion that have "want to die" as a symptom. but i dont really blame you for not knowing, its not talked about much

studies have shown that aspd and adhd are both problems with the dopamine receptors in the brain. more specifically, adhd is a chronic deficiency of dopamine, whereas with aspd, when you DO get dopamine, your brain gives you quardruple the normal amount.

studies have ALSO shown there to be a sort of... adhd to aspd pipeline. the story goes like this: you have a kid with adhd. maybe they're born like that, maybe the symptoms developed from trauma (which can happen? apparently??) anyway. kid gets abused. kid develops conduct disorder as a result of that abuse, as a natural extension of the existing adhd symptoms. they're MORE impulsive, which leads to them hurting others- and if it sets off the dopamine receptors, an abused kid starving for happiness and power is gonna chase it, no matter what. theyre like, six, they dont know anything about like. morality. all they know is, theyre sad and this makes them happy. anyway kid never gets treated, abuse continues to exasperate the symptoms, and now you have an adult with aspd, AND the original adhd diagnosis! and ptsd, which is HIGHLY comorbid with aspd! and probably another personality disorder, because you're actually statistically more likely to have two of them!

anyway! that's ONE of the ways aspd can develop from trauma, which it is Known To Do.

does any of that sound pleasant to go through? at all?

let me ask you a question:

imagine you aren't getting dopamine. maybe it's your adhd. maybe you're depressed. either way, you try to get it any way you can. wether it's throwing yourself into a hobby or a job, so the sense of satisfaction gives you dopamine, or something like drugs or gambling.

now, imagine that "rush" you felt. was Four Times Stronger.

wouldnt that compel you to do increasingly dangerous and risky shit, just to feel okay? imagine if you had no friends. imagine if this was your only way to be happy. wouldnt you, eventually, stop caring about others and only care about yourself? after all, other people have thinga like friends and a family that you don't have. they have a fallback. you only have this.

and you might say, "i'd never do that!" but every addict says that, and most eventually cross that line out of sheer desperation. and this? effectively makes you into a dopamine addict. which is dangerous! you can't just STOP... gettng dopamine....! it's necessary! but you have no help so you keep doing what youre doing. (and how could you get help? its baked into the system that people like you don't suffer. why try if youll just get burned?

anyway, back to izaya.

he's lonely. he has one friend and he sucks. he feels compelled to do these things even though he KNOWS it'll hurt him.

i stole this screenshot from some1 who insulted my friend once for something stupid <3 die

but it illustrates my point very well! does it look like he has much control over things?? he sure like to ACT like he does, but at the end of the day, he doesn't, really. he ends up spiraling more and more, doing increasingly risky and rash things, just to get his end goal... which is to die and ascend to the afterlife. a lofty goal.

aiming high, isn't he? a final, spectacular evolution.

or, it should have been.

but it wasn't.

izaya's impulses and deep desire to continue becoming more and more drastic, coupled with his lack of personal ties to anyone that could keep him from doing so....

it didn't make him ascend. it left him in a wheelchair, with chronic pain that will last his whole life.

THAT is where mental illness takes you. it doesn't make you a hollywood psychopath, reveling in the destruction you chose, of your own free will, wholly and truly, to cause. it makes you want More. no matter what, you need More. you see people content with lives worse than yours, everyone bound together with some sort of invisible thread, some sort of tie that keeps them together. a thread that missed you. your brain refuses to see people as people, thus you remain lonely forever, unsatiafied wirh company other than the superficial, because it's fun. that's all you're allowed to care about. an endless cycle of bigger and bigger actions, impulses slowly getting worse--

--and the worst part is, it tricks you into believing you ever had a choice. it tricks everyone into believing you had a choice. your suffering is worse than disregarded, to all the people you look at from your apartment, all the people you wish you could have been like.

it's nonexistant.

[anneapocalypse]

I have really complex feelings about the idea (often implied or tacitly agreed to be true even when it's not stated outright) that realism in sex scenes (and specifically sex scenes in fanfiction because that's what I'm thinking about) is always preferable and desirable. That it's always better to be more realistic, and any kind of unrealistic or fictionalized portrayals of sex are inferior--or in some cases, worthy of contempt and an indication of the inexperience/immaturity/poor writing skills of the author.

I have mixed feelings about it because I do think there's a place for realism. There are things that add realism to sex scenes that I really enjoy. I enjoy watching certain characters communicate their desires and negotiate activities. In some scenarios I like seeing characters employ safer sex practices like barriers. I will always enjoy when an author takes the time to figure out a form of lubrication that's appropriate and believable in the setting! I can even enjoy when a character gets up to pee after sex before returning to bed to cuddle; it's a very human touch to the scene that can itself be comforting and enjoyable to read. I like it when people who have experience with certain types of sex create helpful guides to writing those things, offering details you might not think of or know about if you haven't had that type of sex. It gives authors more to work with! It's a tool. Realism is a tool, and one that can absolutely enrich scenes and make them more interesting and fun to read.

And at the same time, something really does rub me the wrong way when I see posts that express contempt for a realism gap in fanfiction and imply that anyone writing it that way must be a) stupid, b) inexperienced (while kind of implying that writing about sex when you haven't had sex is inherently a problem, which I object to fundamentally), and c) completely unaware that what they're writing isn't realistic, which kind of points back to A. It's less on the nose than it would have been like ten years ago, when a lot more people were willing to just come right out and mock "stupid girls writing stupid fanfic" (and all the assumptions that go along with that) but still... that tone lingers. I won't even get into some of the smug posts that used to circulate about anal sex that ended up coming across as "don't you know anal sex is GROSS" in a way that was kind of lowkey homophobic, intentionally or not. Nor am I going to get into the prevalence of queer people telling other queer people they're doing queerness Wrong (in fanfiction, in original writing, in life in general).

To bring a personal angle to this, I'm a nearly-40-year-old bisexual cis woman, married and monogamous, chronically ill, and with some lifelong undefined sensory issues that I don't have any kind of diagnosis for so I'll just call them that. For me personally, due mostly to sensory issues and some physiological quirks, sex can take a lot of energy. Sometimes it's just a lot of work! That doesn't mean I don't want it or enjoy it, or that my partner is failing in some way; I have an active and fun sex life with a very thoughtful and caring partner (and I am not looking for advice on this post, so let's not get sidetracked). There's just challenges! And sometimes I wish my own body made it easier!

So sometimes, when I'm writing smut which is definitionally for fun and primarily for me and my own enjoyment, I find myself caught between: do I want to make this character's experience of sex very realistic in a way that's relatable to me? or do I just want to indulge in the fantasy of sex being easy and low-effort?

At this very moment I'm having difficulty answering that question about some things! There's pros and cons to both, and I don't think either one is wrong. Because at the end of the day, my own enjoyment is the goal of this piece of fiction. It's self-indulgence either way. No matter what I write, these pixel people I'm writing about are not real and their sex scenes are still a fantasy. It's just a question of what kind of fantasy I want to indulge in.

There was a good post I saw recently about the fact that a lot of problematic tropes are problematic not inherently but by scale--in other words, because their prevalence reinforces ideas and narratives harmful to specific groups. And I will be the first to acknowledge that even in the realm of fanfiction--a sphere with relatively low impact on the culture at large--it can be frustrating to constantly run into the same tropes that we find unrelatable or just plain unenjoyable, whether it's rigid top/bottom roles or easy vaginal orgasms. I don't want to come across as like, scolding anyone for just being annoyed, or venting about that sort of thing. It's fine. Some people's forms of self-indulgence are irritating to me, and my self-indulgence is undoubtedly annoying to someone else. I also want to reiterate that talking about what is and isn't realistic in the context of fiction is fine and good and there's absolutely a place for it, and that I enjoy a lot of elements of realism in fiction. I just also want to leave room for fiction to be fantasy. I think that's okay. And everyone's gauge for just how much realism is enjoyable is going to be different. I think that's fine too.

[sweet-sunshine99]

What makes you beautiful? What do people find beautiful about you? ✨🪐⚡️

What makes you beautiful? Pick any pile you feel drawn to, if you'd like you can pick multiple piles. Piles start from left to right, venus being pile one and saturn being pile three.

Disclaimer: The following is for entertainment purposes, always put your own logic and intuition before any pick-a-card reading. If it doesn't resonate, it's not for you.

Pile 1 💕

For your physical traits people love your legs, this sounds strange but your calves might be thick or fatty maybe even muscular. Omg guys u r stunning 🥵 ppl might randomly stare at your butt when you're not looking, you could even catch people sometimes. Most of you have a curvy figure, lots of you have a hourglass or pear shape body. You might have silly quirks or silly behaviors like fidgeting or doing unusual compulsions, people think this is cute lol and it is.

For your deeper, more emotional and mental beauty you are very mature for your age, people might have called you an old soul growing up. You won't tolerate toxicity or abuse to any extent, you're smart and you're good at reading people. There may have been moments where you have called people out on their mind games/lies/manipulation straight to their face and I can tell you that these people know you see right through them. They know you understand their shadow for what it truly is. People feel understood by you and when someone has negative intent toward you this can make them feel a bit tense. You radiate powerful vibes yessss

Things that might resonate:

Cinderella, chinese food, halloween, goth, e boy/e girl candy, the word "juicy", crooked teeth, pinching/being pinched, dolls, computer room, library, cotton candy, strawberry milkshake, grey/silver

Placements that might resonate:

Aries moon/rising/venus, taurus placements, gemini and cancer sun

Pile 2 ⚡️

For your physical traits omg your LIPS. They look soft and plump even if they're not necessarily big. They actually look kissable, passionately red or pink. You probably have really clean nails and you take care of them really well. Some of you use a lot of blush and I promise it looks cute!! keep doing what makes you happy!!! I'm getting that your eyes and your eye color to be more specific is really attractive to people. it doesn't matter the color, something about it is very pretty and the color pops. It somehow matches your aesthetic.

For your inner, spiritual, mental, and emotional beauty I think you guys are very artistic. You might secretly be into some form of art and when people finally find this out they end up being surprised by how beautiful and creative your art is, how talented you can be. Your art is unique and original. For some of you your art may not even be art, for example your "art" could be your career, a hobby, a belief system, a form of self expression, something that fills you with passion that lasts a lifetime. You stay calm and collected, your presence isn't awkward and immediately you seem very confident in yourself. I guess you could be a bit intimidating, people are generally avoidant of making you upset or crossing your boundaries because they feel like you're the type to do something about it. Okay but I still feel that you guys are pretty gentle, a little soft sometimes. We all have our bad days but usually you're pretty polite, kind, and friendly. You are very calming to be around and you naturally take on this guiding sometimes motherly role, even if you don't notice people tend to view you as someone that has been through a lot. They think you know enough about life to help with theirs.

Things that might resonate:

Red hair, receiving a diagnosis, bullets, arrows, salads, healthy eating, healthy food, the color orange, black cat, lotion/moisturizer, moose, petting a cat, twirling, the color green, ducks, pie, piercings, pink flowers, cherries, kisses, pale skin

Placements that might resonate:

Capricorn moon, taurus placements + taurus 5H, virgo placements, gemini venus/mars

Pile 3 🪐

For your physical traits you have attractive shoulders and collar bones. sharp jawline. You might wear showy/expensive/good jewelry. Your eyes are magnetic, your gaze is addictive. There is so much emotion in your eye, you could deceive anyone with your stare. Making eye contact with you feels like heaven for a moment to many people you meet. Your bone structure is well sculpted. Your face is perfect, so many people fight over which type of body is the most attractive. People put so much emphasis on how much someone has, what they have, and where they have it but with you, that doesn't cross anyones mind. This is not to say that your body isn't as attractive as your face, but that people don't care if you're thick, curvy, thin, fit. You're just an attractive person.

For your inner, mental, and spiritual beauty you're fun. You always have a joke to make and you make people laugh when they're feeling down. You make one bad day just a little easier to tolerate and people love that. You're good with words, you can be a bit detached but overall you get along with people. People love that you know how to make a lot out of nothing, you know how to create something big out of something little. You look at every detail in a situation and you know how to use all of the small pieces to make something better.

Thing that might resonate:

The color yellow, the color green, stones, lighting something on fire, sweaters, pink fruit, orange stripes, ring lights, led lights, poetry, 3 am, cinnamon, cactus, taking care of a plant

Placements that might resonate:

Aquarius placements, pisces moon, virgo stellium, gemini/virgo/mercury in 8H

[vincite-noctem]

A/N: Typed this on my phone, because Jonathan Crane is bbg and I had a random idea that grew into a short little story thing. It's written in third person because I'm trying the style out for myself. The MC knows of Jonathan's business as Scarecrow and the toxin.

Summary: She is the second in command of Arkham, working side by side with Jonathan Crane. When Rachel Daws doubts Crane's diagnose of Falcone's insanity, she asks Y/n for a second professional opinion on the matter. She may not be corrupted by Falcone, but other, arguably higher forces impact her honesty in the matter...

Warnings: mention of blood, lying to authorities, Jonny is a bit of an idiot because he can't figure out that r! has feelings for him.

words: 1430

A dull knock resonates from the wooden door to Jonathan Crane's office. He stares angrily at the frosted glass pane and the silhouette of the person vaguely visible through it.

"What could be important enough to get on my nerves with at this late hour? Make it quick, I don't have all the time in the world."

The door opens, and through the thin crack slips a female figure, clearly recognizable by the usual dark garb she tends to wear - black turtleneck shirt and gray slacks. In her hand she holds a small medical kit.

"You don't have to take your frustration out on me," she says snappishly and takes a seat in the chair opposite his office chair, the med kit on her lap.

"Y/n, what's your concern?" he asks, his questioning gaze fixed on the small black bag on her lap. "I've got a lot to do, and really no time for any little games."

She sighs. "Daws asked me to do a second diagnosis on Falcone. She doesn't trust you, but she thinks me trustworthy enough because I'm one of the few people he hasn't bought into yet. She also wants a blood test to make sure you didn't drug him," she explains quietly.

"So, what is that supposed to tell me now? My second-in-command is going to rat me out to the authorities and take my place, and I'll spend the rest of my days in the pokey-"

"No." she interrupts him, "Just listen to me first. I need you to draw my blood." She sets the first-aid kit on the table.

"Why should I draw your blood?" He doesn't seem to fully grasp her train of thought.

"So I can switch up the samples. I'll take Falcone's sample later in the presence of Daws, and then evaluate it down in the lab. I'll switch the two samples, and run the tests on my own blood. You know your toxin would show up on the lab results, we determined that weeks ago. There are no substances in my blood, I have no pre-existing conditions that would show up in the results, everything looks completely normal. If I give her those lab results, plus the diagnosis of his mental illness, then she can't present anything else to the court and he stays here."

At the end of her brief monologue, she rolls up the long sleeve of her black shirt and holds out her arm to him, the pale skin of the crook of her arm turned upward.

Jonathan looks at her closely, his blue eyes sparkling insistently behind the narrow lenses of his glasses.

"And what do you get out of Falcone staying here? Why are you helping him?"

She shakes her head vigorously. "You need to understand me. I'm doing this for you, Jonathan. If his blood test is clean and my diagnosis is the same as yours, it will spare your reputation and save you from discredit and jail. So, take my blood now, I have an appointment with Daws in ten minutes."

She pushes the first aid kit further in his direction. He caves and reaches for it, pulls the sterile gloves over his hands, and disinfects the crook of her arm before carefully sticking the needle into her vein. Y/n watches intently as the ruby red liquid drips into the test tube until it reaches the fill line and Jonathan pulls the needle out under pressure. He closes the tube and she sticks the label with Falcone's name on it before carefully sliding it into her pocket. She pulls the sleeve of her shirt back down to hide the puncture site and stands up.

"Fine. I'll be on my way, it would be counterproductive if someone sees me coming out of your office," she mumbles and turns to leave. She is already standing at the door with the handle in her hand when he finally says something again.

"Why are you doing this, Y/n?"

As she looks back at him over her shoulder, their gazes meet. She is unable to hide anything from the intense blue of his eyes - at least she thought so until now. Her voice is soft as she answers.

"You have no idea, huh? You're an intelligent man, Jonathan. Think."

With these words, she leaves his office and quickly darts away like a shadow, towards a completely different wing of Arkham. Covering Tracks. Jonathan quickly disposes of the medical kit, dropping it into the bottom drawer of the small cabinet next to his desk. All the while, his thoughts run a mile a minute. What is Y/n's motive in this? What does she get out of helping him in this situation, what advantage does it have for her?

Y/n, meanwhile, is punctual as a stopwatch when she arrives outside the cell Falcone is situated in at the moment. Rachel Daws is already there, briefcase in her hand, staring through the smudged window into the interior. Y/n puts on her therapeutic smile, the one that earned her the reputation as Arkham's soft psychiatrist, the kind young goody two shoes, who has no other thoughts than helping the poor patients in her care. How deceiving a smile can be, she thinks.

"Ms. Daws, I suppose you'll come into the room with me? Or do you prefer to wait out here?"

The prosecutor shakes her head and says in the weighty tone she seems to automatically adopt while executing her legal business, "No no, I stayed here to monitor the whole thing. I'll come with you."

Y/n just nods sympathetically and opens the heavy steel door with the sleek key card. She thanks herself for the nerves of steel she had developed from working at Arkham Asylum. If she didn't have them, her hands would surely be shaking like aspen leaves with nervousness. She takes the blood from Falcone with practiced movements, sticks the label on the test tube and puts it in her pocket. Daws immediately protests and asks to personally bring the sample forward for safekeeping on the way down to the lab. Y/n, who had already expected this, hands her the test tube - the wrong one, of course, having already mixed up the two samples in her bag without Daws noticing.

"Of course. I beg your pardon Ms. Daws, it's a force of habit," she says placatingly.

The two women make their way downstairs to the lab, where Y/n examines the sample under Rachel Daws' watchful eye and evaluates the results. Fifteen minutes later, she hands the results to the prosecutor in writing. All the values of the test are completely normal, nothing indicates that Falcone is under the influence of any substance.

"Ms. Daws, under these circumstances, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do but declare Falcone mentally incompetent. I am sorry. I will fax the report in writing to your office tonight." The psychiatrist says, and sincere displeasure resonates in her voice. Of course she wants to see Falcone behind bars, the man is a smug pig and an absolute monster. Except that in this case, however, Jonathan's career directly hangs in the balance, and if she has to choose one of those things, it's without a doubt Jonathan. The frustration on the young prosecutor's face is clearly visible as she resignedly accepts the lab results and lets them disappear into her files.

"Thank you anyway, Dr. L/n." she says quietly, and turns to leave with a nod.

"I hope they can still charge him with enough than he's going to Blackgate." Y/n calls after her. She's unsure if the lawyer hears her, because she doesn't get any more replies. Alone in the lab, she sighs and leans against the table, her head hanging back and her eyes closed against the cold light of the old fluorescent tubes.

Shortly after, she begins to clean the work surface and equipment, wiping them down with saline solution and then disinfecting them first with ethanol, then with hydrogen peroxide, and placing them on one of the numerous perforated trays to drain. The door behind her opens, and she feels a familiar, inquisitive look at her back.

"Why did you do this, y/n? Why are you risking all this for me? You know who I am, what I do. Why?"