medic's face on things

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So obviously I’ve been MIA for a while. I’ll be honest, things kind of took a dive with my health for a little while. After my first run in with a doctor that was truly fatphobic beyond all logic, a loss of 35+ pounds in less than two months because of a complete inability to tolerate food and a brief trip into malnutrition and kidney failure, I am probably the least healthy I’ve been in a very long time.  But things are finally looking up, and I’m scheduled for surgery on Wednesday- with another doctor of course. I have a lot of thoughts on everything that happened, but I’m not sure how much I want to say, if you know what I mean. Thank goodness the doctors who have known me for years had my back, and were able to refer me to an excellent surgeon who thought the same way they do. 

Meanwhile, I’m alive if not quite well and Hinkey wanted in on the selfie action. 

The fact that aspec people feel the need to repeatedly assure everyone that “we don’t mean to say we have it worse than others” when we talk about how society opresses and marginalized us, even when its not related to the oppression and marginalization of other orientations directly, makes me ache. That we’ve been so used to being dismissed and belittled that when faced with things like “its literally considered a medical problem for our orientation to exist! People feel like the eradication of our very identity is saving us! And people don’t seem to even notice that this is the case!” we feel the need to justify and appease people bc, secretly, we feel its not so bad. I hate this. It IS bad. It’s different than what ppl of other orientations face, but its still terrible, and its just as valid.

Fic 345: If the Hat Fits

Fluffy Red Oktoberfest for you all! 100% spoiler free from today’s new comic release.


“What is this?”

The box, wrapped in plain brown paper and a twine bow, sat squarely in the middle of a rather important requisition request justification that had taken him the better half of the evening to make any headway through. Medic looked up at Heavy, who stood in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest and with an expectant look in his eye.

“Is present.”

“That much is evident.” Medic poked the side of the box with his pencil, listening for any tell tale clues, ticking clocks, hissing vipers, spring loaded gas devices, and the like. A quick glance up at Heavy didn’t help either. The giant was simply watching with an amused look across his face as Medic approached even this simple thing with the same mix of methodical care and callous disregard as he approached his surgeries.

A present. But for what? Medic racked his brain. Smissmass long since past, and neither of them ever discussed birthdays with each other. It had simply never come up. Spy could have been persuaded to part with the information, since he had no doubt already discovered it, but they were nowhere near that date either. There had been no arguments that either would need to apologize for, and even if they had, this wasn’t Heavy’s preferred method of apology. And in any rate, he was usually not the one doing the apologizing either.

There were no upcoming missions that would require additional prep. There were no upcoming unpleasant assignments that Heavy would want to avoid. The look on Heavy’s face was not the one he wore when telling him that he would be traveling back to Russia.

Medic was utterly baffled.

“I give up,” he finally replied, “Why?”

A sly smile crept onto Heavy’s face. “Does Heavy need reason?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Then open, dorogoy.”

Medit set his pencil down and pulled the package back into his lap,. His fingers played at the bow on top, the rough twine hissing over the paper as he pulled it away and let his drop to the floor with the paper following shortly after. Inside the paper was a box. A proper box of sturdy stock that was emblazoned with a stamp that he didn’t recognize but that was undoubtedly Russian. He felt Heavy’s eyes on him as he pulled off the lid to find red tissue paper beneath. As he pulled it back, his fingers brushed across something soft, furry, and absolutely lacking in a heartbeat.

“A hat?”

Heavy nodded. “Is ushanka. Special for Doktor.”

He pulled it out and turned it in his hands. An ushanka it was, indeed. Dark brown, and almost identical to the one he’d admired on Heavy many times before, but on its front was a gold cross, his own class symbol, that made it his own. He let his fingers run through the furred lining, feeling its warmth and softness, and knowing that it would be more than a match for their inevitable reassignment to Coldfort.

“What kind of fur is this?”

“Bear. Killed with Heavy’s own hands.”

He almost choked up at that. It was hard to find a good man who would kill a bear for you with his own hands and that kind of enthusiasm. Without waiting another moment, he pulled it on and dropped the flaps to let the fur tickle his ears. It fit perfectly. How, he had no idea. He almost never wore hats, and the ones that he did keep around were of the helmet variety. But the ushanka fit like a glove. Of course it did. It was from Heavy, who knew him better than anyone.

“Danke, Misha. It is wonderful.”

The Medi-gun could have been powered for days off of the wattage that came from Heavy’s smile.

“But if you do not mind me pressing,” Medic got up from his desk and made his way around to Heavy and laying his hands on those impossibly broad shoulders, “what is the occasion? If I have missed something important…”

“Nyet.” Heavy shook his head as he pulled Medic close. “Is because we go together, Doktor.”

Medic shook his head as Heavy chuckled a little at his own little joke. Matching hats for men who were a match. It was silly and juvenile, the sort of thing infatuated teenagers would do.

He loved it.

The room was warm, and his head was already getting hot, but he wouldn’t take it off. Not just yet. Not while Heavy was smiling so brightly down at him. Instead, he leaned up just enough to plant a light kiss to the tip of the big man’s nose.

“Ja. Together.”

Yamori’s “What’s 1000-7″ thing has always rubbed me very wrong in a very weird, unexplainable way that I couldn’t place until today when I was reminded that “count backward from 100 by 7s” or “What’s 100-7, what’s that minus 7″ are super common questions on cognitive intake evaluations in psychiatric/medical institutional settings.

To people who have been fortunate enough in their life not to have experienced this first hand, when you are taken to a new medical/psychiatric setting that has a reason to suspect you/any of their usual patient base might not be lucid or might have dementia or some cognitive issues, the intake person will ask a series of super robotic questions that they assume every “normal” person should be able to answer with ease.

Here’s the post that reminded me. [x] Note that Yamori’s torture technique is literally number 5 on that list.

They will generally be taking notes on any hesitations and mistakes and have a tendency to ascribe these to insanity/deficits rather than nerves or you being terrible at arithmetics. 

So, in case you needed another way to connect Tokage/the CCG/Cochlea to systemic institutional violence.

I’m going to nope the fuck away from reality for a little now. b y e.

i honestly can’t believe this is happening. that anon called intersex people UNNATURAL and MUTATIONS, yet i’m the one who responded badly??? i only pulled out one curse word, and i’m sorry that i’m senstive about REAL PEOPLE being called unnatural mutations. not to mention i gave them links!! to stuff that does provide actual facts!!!

also if you think my rebuttal was somehow lessened by my “appeal to emotion” /that’s/ a shit move /your/ part, because this is real people we are talking about. real people who face discrimination and medical abuse and all other manner of terrible things, who were just called unnatural mutations. and i think that deserves being emotionally upset about, and the fact that you seem to think it doesn’t tells me really all i need to know about you

but even though i refrained from being as snappish as i felt, and even though i provided them links to actual facts (although i notice you don’t seem to care that /anon/ didn’t provide me with any actual facts), you’re telling me i reacted “terribly” to someone who called a group of marginalized people unnatural mutations????

i suggest you don’t follow this blog anymore. i’m tired. i have work tomorrow. i don’t have the emotional energy to waste on people who don’t consider discrimination something to be upset about. i’m not debating this anymore

~Mod Q

Finding, at the end of the day at the dissecting table, that there was more he wished to examine, he put a lung under his hat and walked out past the guard at the door, all going well as he proceeded through the streets until he felt blood trickling down his face.
—  Henry Bowditch, medical student c.1834, doing terrible things with human organs. From The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris by David McCullough, which any les mis fan who wants to get an american perspective on what life in Paris was like in the early ‘30s should definitely read ASAP. The section about the med students is wild.

Here are some other brain functions that seem really weird and pointless, and we don’t know why our brains do them, but we do know that a) our brains create them themselves, and b) they aren’t caused by ghosts, spirits, or demons.

DREAMS. We don’t know why we dream. But we dream a LOT. Sometimes spirits can enter a dream if they’re strong enough to pass on a message. But the spirits do not cause the dream. The brain does.

DEJA VU. Feels weird. Doesn’t mean spirits make it happen.

DAYDREAMS. I’ve had asks from people who say their imagination runs wild when they’re bored, and they get ideas out of nowhere, and they wanted to know if it was caused by spirits. No it’s not. It’s your brain.

PARANOIA. That weird feeling of being watched? Your brain, entering fight or flight mode, for whatever reason. We don’t know why for sure. But it’s not spirits.

ANY MENTAL ILLNESS. I’ve had someone straight up tell me that mental illness is caused by negative spirits. Talk about a breakthrough in modern science, am I right? That’s why we treat depression with exorcisms instead of drugs and therapy. Oh wait.

GETTING A RANDOM CRAVING FOR FOOD. You’re not possessed. It’s your brain.

VERTIGO. It’s your brain trying to right itself when it feels out of balance. Not a spirit passing through you.

SLEEP WALKING. For those moments when you are fast asleep and your brain decides to go for a walk. Is it a spirit causing this? Guess what no it isn’t.

SLEEP EATING. When you’re fast asleep and your brain decides it is hungry for whatever is in the fridge. It’s a side effect of some sleep medications. Not spirits.

SEEING FACES IN THINGS. Remember a month or two ago when someone submitted a picture of their wallpaper and said it looked like a face and wanted to know if it was a spirit? No it wasn’t. It was that part of your brain that recognizes faces and goes “hey look at that a face wow.” Why does it do that? We don’t know. 

JUST BECAUSE WE DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY OUR BRAINS DO WEIRD STUFF, DOESN’T MEAN THERE’S A POSSIBILITY IT IS CAUSED BY A SPIRIT. Sleep paralysis is a big misconception because it is scary and it makes you see shadow people. It feels like paranormal activity. It is not. It is your brain. 

Step Into the Relm
The Roots
Step Into the Relm

“I’m from the valley of the heavyheads, watch the ghetto pre-medical
Undergrads and steady red faces of stone” - Black Thought

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choose your weapons wisely.