#‘oh well THIS disabled person can work so why can’t YOU’
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Listen I hate ai art as much as the next guy and in its current state and likely future states I do not support using it, however some of us Need to stop arguing against it saying shit that ableists say to disabled people
“Oh ai art could be an accessibility tool? Disabled people CAN make art, here’s a video of a disabled person doing something incredibly difficult, time consuming, and likely painful for them. Why can’t you just do that instead? Why are you Lying about your ability?”
#like I’m not saying it’s okay or cool to be making ai art right now#but to deny its use as an accessibility tool is just stupid#stop doing it#it’s the same ignorant bullshit as#‘oh well THIS disabled person can work so why can’t YOU’#there will always be someone with less ability than you or the disabled people you see online#there will always be someone who simply Cannot do something#and it is not fair or right to just go ‘well if you really can’t then fuck you I guess just don’t at all’#that’s not how we treat disabled people here.#to reiterate: ai art Bad but ableism Also Bad#sunny speaks
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This work (Unicorn Invisable Disability Flag) is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
You wanted it, you got it! Here’s a nice big clean version of the Invisible Disability Pride flag which I designed. A lot of people said they resonated with it, and while originally I just did it for personal satisfaction if you are feeling drawn to or empowered by this image and my reasons behind the design please feel free to use it. I’m actually going to post those reasons under the cut as well as that link to the original post just in case it gets lost. Oh as for the CC up there don’t be scared of using it that mostly just means if you’re a Big Company and want to make money off of it you can’t- or have to talk to me first!
I have a society6 with this design available as many things (even if the site is... confusing. it is there I promise search by ‘new’ if in dire straits) so you can have a looky there if you have a hankering for shirts and other products with it on!
anon asked: being someone with an invisible disability, have you ever considered making a flag? I know there is a flag for disability pride but I looked and looked and there isn't one I could find about invisible disabilities and you strike me as a very good person to come up with one (no pressure! just thought you might enjoy coming up with an idea?)
I almost didn’t do this bc it’s kind of a heavy topic and there is the general go-to of the sunflower icon (sunflower lanyards are used as a subtle sign that a person has an invisible disability) but looking into why it was chosen…
Well. I respect it but this list really didn’t reflect my experience of having an invisible disability so fuck it all I drew a sketch just for myself. So rather than a suggestion FOR a flag for Invisible Disability Pride this is, well, my flag for it done very quickly (sorry for the jaggedy outline I used the sketch!):
I have EDS, and they use a zebra as a play on the ‘when you hear a horse, don’t think zebra; think horse’ line which is when doctors assume something is not a rare condition because, well, it rarely is. But when you’re a zebra, not a horse, that’s a huge problem. This inspired me to use a unicorn here, because a lot of people don’t even believe Invisible Disabilities exist or count as such: depression, chronic pain, even vision loss are sometimes dismissed as being disabilities.
Why not the classic striped colours of other pride flags? Many reasons: people with colour blindness or severe visual imparement cannot easily distinguish them. This icon could be rendered as a relief, so it could still be used as a recognisable icon for people with complete blindness or who appreciate/use tactile imagery. The high contrast of black and white is also for this reason- It is also very easily recognisable at a distance. The heraldic design is to show that we have always been here, throughout all of history, regardless of if people have taken notice. The 'fancy’ designs on the legs, tail and face could be seen as beautiful, but could also be thorns, or flames. The 'spikes’ along the back are actually a spine. People with invisible disabilities are often in large amount of discomfort or pain, and to someone who is not aware they seem totally fine. The tail is long and flowing, but could easily get tangled in the unicorn’s legs and cause them to trip and fall. The hooves are split to show how sometimes a person can walk without aids but still be in pain (not simply to be accurate to unicorn lore), and the horn is overly large: heavy to carry, always on your mind and painfully sharp.
Here’s the version with the sketch btw thanks for reading this far have a cookie:
For all the nods to pain in this image I hoope you all see the unicorn is still alive and proud and fully spread over the flag in action to show we are not defined by our disabilities, but they should be respected just as much as something as potentially dangerous as a unicorn.
Also? Unicorns fucking rule. Just putting that down there.
#disability#disability pride#Invisible Disability#flag#invisible disability flag#mod art#there you go!#enjoy!#we out here#unicorns exist#I WROTE INVISIBILITY PRIDE IM#DUMBASS PLEASE REBLOG THIS ONE LOL#eyestrain
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Crawling to the Finish | Part 2 | 5K
Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader
*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.
+18 ONLY | MDNI
Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else. *This part describes disordered eating due to pain.*
Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.
A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.
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You were drifting through life, the unsteady ocean of the things out of your control set your course. It was something you’ve learned how to deal with. Take things as they come, adjust, go with the flow, let the waves move you how they wanted. But, when the pain is bad, it sets your teeth on edge, and you hate being that person. Mean. Angry. Bitter. It’s not who you are, but it’s how you are right now. You were just waiting. Because, despite the hope in your mother’s eyes, you knew that this last surgery would do nothing to fix you. It was just something to add to the chart so Dr. Greene could say he had tried it all before giving an 18 year a total hip replacement. They don’t last forever, and then he’ll have to deal with a patient needing revision at a too young age.
The bright spot these days comes in the form of a group of nerdy boys. Every day, you sit with them at lunch. It’s your safe spot. No one bothers you, you can just sit and be quiet without feeling like you need to do anything. The boys never say anything about how little you eat. Dustin occasionally looks at you with knowing eyes, and he’s always quick to offer up anything you might like as a treat. Food is hard most days, everything turns to cement in your mouth as you chew, and it never sits right in your stomach.
If you’re being completely honest with yourself, the highest points of your days are in the few minutes before each class when you move through the empty halls with Eddie by your side. Your friendship has come about easily. He’s so open to you. He asks questions. He stops talking when you tell him you need quiet without making you feel unkind. He tells you about his band and his club. Then one day, he tells you something that blows you away, because you feel like you were really starting to know him, and you never would have guessed.
“Well, you know, school’s not exactly my strong suit. I’m pretty sure I’m destined to be stuck in this building until I’m old and gray.” You’d been telling him about how determined you were to get your diploma, even if it meant you had to drag your body across the stage to get it. His statement confused you, though.
“What do you mean? You might not graduate?” You’re legitimately confused. “Why not?”
“Oh, Ilene, this is my third senior year.” You’re standing outside of your English class, the bell still 2 minutes away from ringing. These conversations were really one big conversation broken up into little intervals throughout the day. “If I can manage to pass English this time, there’s a chance I’ll be able to walk that stage.” His words hang in the air for a moment while you digest them and try to make sense of them.
You’re annoyed. Almost angry. How the actual fuck – “Eddie, that’s bullshit.” His eyebrows shoot up so high, they’re lost under his fringe. Your tone tells him that you think his excuses are bullshit. “Come on, are you telling me you can’t do that work, because I’m telling you, you’ve got a brain in there.” You tap the side of his head a little harder than was necessary.
“I’m telling you, I’ve managed to fuck it up two years in a row –“ he’s getting a little hot with you, annoyed for being called out, “- and I’m trying, but it’s hard.”
Today’s a better day for you, so you find yourself able to bite back the truly harsh remarks that sometimes spill out of your mouth. You let the silence sit for another moment and think about what it’s been like for him, how he’s been treated by his teachers and how he doesn’t have the kind of support at home that would help him get through a tough time. The bell rings and brings your thoughts back to the Eddie that’s at your side. You look and see his features are a little pained by your words, so you try to make it right before he takes off for his own class.
“Hey, you’re right, I don’t know how it’s been for you.” He’s following behind you while you make your way to your desk, only the two of you in the classroom at the moment. “Why don’t you come over a couple of times a week and we can be study buddies?”
Eddie drops your bookbag at your feet. He takes your hand, as he does multiple times a day to help you get yourself situated at your desk, and holds on to your crutches for you. This routine just sort of happened naturally, but right now it strikes you how comfortable you’ve become with his hands helping you. It’s so unlike you to be so accepting of help.
Before he can take his hand away and leave, you give it a squeeze, drawing his gaze to your face. “I’m serious, I’d like having someone around when I do my homework. It might help us both to just have someone else working next to us.”
A couple of people started making their way through the door, a signal that he has to bust his ass across the building, “I’ll see you in 45 minutes.” There’s a little sink in your stomach, worry at upsetting him, but he gives your own hand a little squeeze before he lets go.
---
Eddie doesn’t bring up your offer for the rest of the day, leaving you feeling a little bit deflated. You pushed too hard, and you regret it. Never once has he done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, and you let your mouth run away the first time he’s a tiny bit vulnerable with you. But, as with everything in life, you let those feelings float on, letting them go.
On the Monday of week 5 post surgery, the pain has ebbed into a constant and familiar ache. You eat enough to keep yourself upright. Your sleep is fragmented, waking frequently to adjust the pillow that rests under your left hip.
Your incision is healed, you’ve always been a quick healer - except for that one joint. The one that keeps you from being a normal teenager. The one that keeps you too thin and gives you dark circles under your eyes.
When you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the realm of self-pity, you let yourself remember. Because, this recovery is simple compared to a full body cast, a bed pan, hair washed in the bathroom sink, a baby monitor set next to you at night at the age of 14. This is nothing. And you’re inching closer to the thing you want more than anything. A new lease on life through your next surgery.
Today, though, you’re getting dressed, putting on makeup, and feeling better than you have in a long time. You’re looking forward to seeing your boys. To seeing your Eddie. You try not think about him when you pull out the curling iron and work your hair into a cute half updo. You try not to think about which lip gloss he would prefer as you rummage through the drawers of your vanity. You definitely avoid the thought of him seeing your ass in the form fitting black jeans you feel like you can tolerate rubbing against the still tender scars that run down your outer thigh and lower waist. Nope. Not thinking about that.
Eddie’s leaning against the hood of his van when you pull into the parking lot this morning. He’s been arriving early since last week so he can be there to escort you into the building first thing each day. This morning your stomach leaps into your throat as you watch him flick his cigarette butt into the grass at the edge of the lot. Friday was the first day you’d really noticed how pretty his eyes are, really looked at how full his lips are. It was a revelation you weren’t expecting. As much as you wish you could just push the feelings away, you know it’s not possible. You’ve noticed him, no going back now.
“Excuse me sir, can you point me in the direction of an errand boy to hire for the day? I can’t possibly be expected to carry my own things around all day.” You’ve pulled your car up next to Eddie with your window rolled down. You let your eyes travel up and down his body to assess him with exaggeration, “You might be sufficient. Do you have any references?”
“There’s this one girl, she’s kind of a pain in the ass, but I’m sure she’d be willing to write me a letter of recommendation.” His head is tilted to the side and he’s wearing a grin that shows off his pretty dimples. “What kind of compensation do you offer?”
“The pleasure of my company.” You give him a big smile and a flutter of your lashes before you pull in to the spot next to him. He makes his way to your car, reaching into the back seat for your crutches before offering his hand to help you out.
“Oh, I think I might take that offer, but I have one request.” He’s answering you try to find your balance. Once you’re upright, he reaches across the front seat to grab your bookbag for you. “How do you feel about adding in some study time this week to sweeten the deal?”
You’ve crutched a couple of steps while he closes your car door for you, but you stop after he makes his request to cock your head and squint your eyes. He’s got that fucking smile on his face again.
“Oh, sure. Follow me home tonight, we can do some work at my house, ok?” Eddie nods and you’re both kind of just looking back and forth at each other while you make your way to the big doors that lead into the school.
“You look really pretty today, by the way.” It’s a casual statement that a friend would make to another friend, but you can feel the heat rising up your chest, and your stomach feels like it’s on fire.
You can’t help but do the thing you always do when you feel like you’re in a corner. You joke.
“Stop flirting with me. I know the crutches are irresistible, but you’re gonna have to try to resist.”
And you think he’ll leave it at that. So, you crutch your way down the still quiet hallway, but he just can’t stop himself. A couple of steps behind you, he says just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s not the crutches I’m thinking about from this angle, Ilene.”
---
That’s how the flirtation started, with Eddie not so subtlety checking out your ass at 7:30 on a Monday morning. It went on like this for the rest of the week. On Wednesday, you sat next to Dustin at lunch. His positivity was contagious, and you found you cared deeply for the kid. He always knew how to talk, or not talk, to you.
“So, Eddie tells me you’ve been helping him study.” You’ve been making eyes at Eddie from across the table. Eddie’s been coming over to your house for a couple of hours the last two afternoons, and you’ve started helping him work on his English paper. After talking him through what some of his issues have been, you offer to be his scribe. It’s working really well, you writing his words.
“Uh, yeah. It’s been nice having him around.” You finally drag your eyes away from Eddie to meet Dustin’s face and he’s practically glowing.
“Oh, good. You guys are, uh, really hitting it off, huh?” Your eyes roll a little and you flick the back of his hands with your fingers in a playful admonishment.
“Stop. It’s not like that.”
Dustin shrugs a little, still radiant with pleasure at all of the possibilities he has running rampant through his head.
“Hey, when do you see your doctor? It’s next week, right?”
“Yep.” It’s all you can manage. Your anxiety was starting to build at the thought of it.
“How soon do you expect to have your surgery?” You had told Dustin about the prospect of a hip replacement. He was enthusiastic, understanding it would be the ticket to a more independent life.
“As soon as he’ll schedule it. Realistically? Probably in a month. I think I’ve convinced my mom that it’s definitely happening, but you know, parents are always worried.” Dustin knew. He definitely knew.
“Well, I’m excited for you.” His big smile does a lot to settle your anxiety. His support means so much to you. “I’m sure Eddie will be excited too.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.
“Dustin, I swear to god.” You shake your head and look back to see Eddie smirking at your obvious annoyance with his favorite kid.
---
“So, tell me about Eddie.” Your mom sat at the kitchen table and sorted through the mail while you got yourself situated on the recliner. You’d been sleeping in it all week, it holds your body in all of the right places. It’s the only place you can fully relax, even if it’s only for a couple of hours at a time.
“You met him, you already know about him.” It’s Friday, the first afternoon that you’ve returned from school without the metalhead following closely behind. His band is practicing, but he offered to come over after to watch a movie later.
“Yeah, he’s a good kid, I like him.” She rips open one of the envelopes and scans the page. A medical bill. You can tell from the resigned sigh that leaves her mouth. “I was just wondering if anything’s been going on between you two yet.”
“We’re just friends, mom.” It doesn’t even sound convincing to your own ears.
“Of course your friends. He’s the reason I don’t worry about you when you leave the house. But I’m not blind.” She doesn’t say anymore, she just gets up and digs her check book out of her purse before dropping back into the seat and continuing the depressing job of draining her bank account.
“Oh, uh, Eddie’s coming over at 7 to watch a movie if that’s ok.” Your attempt at sounding casual fails, and you know it because you’re mom barks out a laugh.
“Eddie’s always welcome, you don’t have to ask. ‘Just friends.’” She does air quotes at you, and you lay your head back to try to nap before Eddie heads over.
The next thing you know, there’s a hand on your arm and you smell pizza? Your groggy eyes are trying to open, the hand on your arm is lifting and you hear his voice, as if from a distance.
“Maybe I should go. I don’t want to wake her if she needs to sleep.” His voice is soft, and you wonder who he’s talking about. Wait, he’s talking about me. Because I’m asleep.
“No, I promise, she’ll never forgive me if I let her sleep through your visit.” You hear footsteps moving towards you, and there’s another smaller hand with a firmer grip on your arm. “Sweetie, Eddie’s here to see you. He brought over some pizza. Wanna wake up?”
Your feel like your eyelids weigh a ton, but you finally get them open enough to see your mom and Eddie standing over you, looking at you. Eddie looks concerned, his fingers at his mouth playing with his bottom lip.
“Hey, Buddy.” You croak out and give him a sleepy smile, and you can see him visibly relax. Your mom gives him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves the room. “Thanks for coming over, Eddie.” You start moving to get up, and he puts his hands out to stop you.
“Hey, no, it’s ok, stay there.” But you’re shaking your head, you had to get up and move around to get the blood flowing.
“I’m fine, I can’t stay in this chair anymore or I won’t sleep at all tonight.” Eddie’s quick to offer his arm to you, and warmth starts to stir inside of you. His leather jacket is thrown over a chair in the kitchen. This is the first time you’ve had your hands on his bare arm, and his skin feel so warm under your fingers.
“Where’d you get the pizza, Ed?” You put your arm around his shoulder, letting him help you to the kitchen without the aid of your crutches. His hair smells clean, like maybe he took a shower before coming over. You let your fingers brush across the ends of his hair to see if it’s still damp. It is.
“Uh, I went to Gino’s. Is that ok?” He turns his head to face you, and he’s so close. You notice his eyes drifting between your eyes and your mouth while you’re hopping the last few feet before resting on one of the cloth covered chairs at the octagonal table.
“It’s great. Thank you.” As soon as your ass hits the chair, he’s moving in a flurry. Getting you something to drink, plating some pizza, frenetic movements around the kitchen.
He finally sits with you after grabbing a plate for himself. This is the moment. This is when you know it. You let your foot rest next to his, your sock covered toes rub the top of his foot just a little, and he’s all smiles. This is good. He returns your gesture with a little toe rub of his own, and you let the greasy cheesy pizza fill your stomach while you play footsie with the pretty boy sitting next to you.
Eddie brought over the movie he’d been talking about all week, insisting you should watch it. LadyHawke. You know it’s not anywhere near what you’d consider watching normally, but his excitement was worth it. Also, the thought of sitting in a dark room with him sitting close to him made your whole body tingle.
You stood at in front of the couch, looking down at it, trying to decide what would work the best. Eddie stood there, looking a little confused, probably wondering why you were staring at a piece of furniture with such concentration.
“So, uh, do you need help, or…” He’s filling the silence with anything, and you’ve decided to just tell him the truth.
“I’m thinking about how I can be comfortable on this couch while also not being too obvious about wanting you to be close to me.” You keep looking at the couch, and Eddie is standing a little straighter.
“Ah, yeah, I see.” Now he’s looking at the couch with you while you lean your weight onto his shoulders. He snaps his fingers together excitedly. “I’ve got it. Here.” He’s helping you down onto the couch, making sure you’ve got a pillow to rest under your hip before he gets the movie set up and turns off the lights. You’re waiting, a little sad to be sitting alone.
“Ok, can I sit here?” He’s pointing at the very end of the couch where you’re head and shoulders are resting, and you feel a smile pulling on your lips.
“Of course you can.” You sit up as much as you can, and Eddie sneaks his slender body next to you. It’s easy to rest your head on him, perfectly comfortable, his arms are gently surrounding you. You can feel his steady breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart with your head on his broad chest.
LadyHawke is playing on the television. You know that. Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Broderick are right on the screen. Outside of that, nothing is connecting. Eddie’s hand is moving along your arm, fingers lazily running along your skin. Your face is pressed into his cotton t shirt, it smells like fabric softener and very faintly of cigarette smoke. You can feel his warm breath on the crown of your head. Your hand is running along the rings of his free hand, dipping into the valleys between his fingers. You can hear his breath hitch when you let the tip of your fingers rub against the sensitive skin.
“This is really nice, Ed.” You need him to know how you’re feeling right now before your heart explodes in your chest from his tender touches.
“Mmmm” The hum is thick, reverberating through his chest. He’s gone somewhere, just feeling and not thinking. As casually as possible without full function of you lower half, you turn yourself to look at his face. Your expectation is that you’ll see his face focused on the screen, but no. He’s looking down at you with a soft expression.
You reach to touch his face, asking him to look at you. Please, see me. He does. You see his vision focus, he’s back with you. You run your finger down his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there. His hand isn’t running along your arm now. No, it’s found the spot on your side where you’re shirt has ridden up, and now his fingers are bringing out goosebumps along this new place, a gentle dance.
It’s a challenge. It’s awkward. You’re moving your body in ways that are not completely natural, trying to angle your face to meet his. His sweet and knowing smile makes you giggle a little. It’s ridiculous that this should be so hard when it’s so stupidly easy for every other teenager in the world. But, this is Eddie, and he’s not making you feel weird.
“You wanna kiss, Sweet Girl?” Of course you want a kiss. It’s why you have your body twisted, face in the crook of his neck. So close. You have to pull yourself up using his shirt as leverage.
“No.” Your face is heating up enough that you’re sure he can feel it on the skin of his neck. “I just wanna put my face right here.” You let your lips brush against his the soft skin behind his ear, and he lets out a little groan.
“Oh, yeah, ok.” His breath is ragged as you trail your lips across his neck leaving gentle kisses as you go. His hands are gripped firmly at the skin of your side, he’s obviously trying to keep himself under control while you assault his most sensitive spots.
“Eddie, I’m sorry.” You breath out in the shell of his ear and his breath stutters, “I’m lying. I really do want you to kiss me.” Your teeth nip at the spot behind his hear, and you’re satisfied with the whimper that escapes his pretty mouth.
It’s still awkward, but neither of you seem to care. The goal is to let your lips meet. So close. So, so close. He’s so pretty. The reflection of the screen illuminates his face, and you’re struck again by his perfect features. You can’t get your face to angle in the right way, so you just bring your hand up to run along his eyebrows, down his nose, along his pretty lips.
He closes his eyes while you explore his features with your featherlight touches. Slowly, he starts to move away from you, gently guiding your body to a half sitting position.
“Lay down, Sweetheart.” His knees are resting on the carpet in front of the couch, and he helps you lay on your side to face him. “There she is.” His hand cups your cheek and he closes the distance to let your lips meet. Finally. His lips are as soft as the touches you’ve been sharing. His fingers scratch at the back of your head, and your open mouths taste each other while Lady Hawke plays on in the background, all while Eddie sits on his knees on the floor.
---
In your living room on that Friday night, you let the waves take you like you always did. The feelings were happening, there was no stopping it. There are so few things in your life that make perfect sense, there’s so much uncertainty. But Eddie was consistent, he was true. So, it happens, and it’s right.
Saturday, you’re mother takes you to a salon. Self-care has been low priority for a long time, but the hair cut was a practice in hope. Monday morning, instead of meeting Eddie in the parking lot of the high school, you’ll be sitting in the office of your surgeon discussing next steps. While waiting for your time slot, you flip through the book filled with glossy images of haircuts. You know what you want before even stepping foot in the door, but you need a visual reference. When you see the picture, you have to hold in a laugh, it’s exactly what you’re looking for. It’s not until you see the cut on the model that you realize it is the same cut that Isabeau wears in LadyHawke.
The seat is uncomfortable, it strains the already painful joint, but it’s so worth it. Angie, your hairstylist, is massaging your scalp more than washing your hair, and you feel like purring with satisfaction. You suspect that your mom told her something that made her want to give you extra pampering, and you don’t even care if it’s out of pity. When she finally turns the taps off and wraps your head in a towel, your eyes are heavy, but your body feels light.
Getting a haircut has always been a ritual you like to go through before major medical stuff. It’s a shedding of the past and making room for new growth. The practicality of having less hair to deal with post operation is an added bonus. This is the first cut you’ve had in a year, and your hair is well past the donation threshold. After the initial chop of the braids hanging down your back, you listen to the scissors snip snip snip while small clumps of hair float to the ground. You feel freer already.
Sunday Eddie visits for a while, and he brings Dustin. It’s a surprise, but you’re so happy to see him. Outside of your mom, they’re the only ones you’ve told about your anxieties. To his benefit, Dustin never comments on the fact that you’re head rests in Eddie’s lap and that he runs his fingers through your hair while they visit. Even though it looks physically painful for him to keep his thoughts to himself.
For the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re just passing time and waiting for the next thing. Waiting for you life to finally make sense and be set right. You feel accepted and held by Eddie. He sees you and doesn’t frown at the sight of your pain, he simply tries to not add to it. Having a friend like Dustin must have played a part in his understanding, but it’s more than that. Eddie just accepts and offers sincerity in everything.
When Dustin takes off, telling you he’s got plans with Mike Wheeler, you know he’s really giving you and Eddie some time. Eddie helps you over to the recliner so you can really rest, the week was long and you’re still so tired. You make yourself small and pull him into the oversized chair with you. He doesn’t argue. He moves with clear intention, cautiously but not with fear.
“Eddie, thanks for being here for me.” Your running your finger down his sternum, following a path to his ribs. You try not to think too hard about doing this without the cotton barrier of his shirt. You’re present, enjoying it for what is and trying to not wish any of it away.
“This is where I want to be, Baby. With my girl.” His eyes are closed, he looks as tired as you do. Fully relaxed under your touch.
“I’m your girl?” He keeps his eyes closed, but his mouth draws up into a smile at the softness of your voice.
“Yes, and I’m sorry. You’re stuck with me now. You found that spot behind my ear. I can’t let you go.” You take his hint and nose your way to his neck and run you lips along the spot. He’s practically growling his response, “You’re an evil woman, do you know that?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you liked this.” He pulls your chin away from his neck so you can see his face. The tender look on his face has you feeling gooey and warm. You spend the rest of the evening with your lips connected, taking all that you could give one another until – finally – you fall asleep to the sounds of his breathing.
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x disabled!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson smut#eddie munson stranger things#disability in fanfiction
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this thread is fucking long and the cut is in an awkward place just bear with it please
so werewolves are a stock horror villain (and the posts directly below this one are about that! go look at them) and don’t get me wrong i love werewolf horrorsmut but i want to see more of:
werewolves who just aren’t scary in any way. like sure the shift may be scary. they may look kinda scary. but they’re just people like everyone else even if they are more ruled by instinct than the average human. i think stuff like that is a nice way to explore what it means to be a person and how humanity can be a fluid category, especially when the werewolves in question are transgender/disabled/personality disorder coded.
like i want some wholesome shit about werewolves who can’t even pass as ambiguously human. they’re just very overtly werewolves: massive sharp, snarling bundles of taut muscles and sinew, 8, 9 feet tall, who are very capable of snapping and killing everything around them
but don’t. because they’re treated well and loved even though they’re not like everyone else. and it doesn’t matter that they aren’t, because they are like everyone else even if they’re not. i know that sounds a bit confusing on the face but i mean stuff like:
- “oh yeah no worries, Sharon from accounting’s a wolf too! no no we love her! remember when we went to topgolf for that company outing? they couldn’t find any clubs in her size so she outdrove us all with clubs a foot too short it was hysterical!”
- “all right you should be scheduled for this week! next two weeks are the same? no right of course not because you need moon days. yeah that’s totally fine i will get that in to HR and you should be all good!”
- “is- no it’s fine- is it ok if i stay shifted in here? the pain is less bad when i’m shifted. no i have no idea why lol. you’re sure? the shedding is ok and everything? aww sweetie i love you too!”
- “i mean, hip dysplasia is normal in wolves your age, and you had fairly active teenage years, so it happens. it’s not anything to worry about though, i’ll get you in contact with a fantastic physical therapist! no she specializes in wolf patients. she’s great at what she does, i promise. i’ll get you a month of painkillers but over-the-counter should work alright too. take these, go to therapy, and if it’s still doing that in a month come back and we can try something else.”
- “hey, baby, look at me. i know people are staring at you. you don’t need to care about them. you have just as much right to be here as they do. just ignore them.”
- “no i’m absolutely not mad at you! you can’t control that happening! no it was a full moon what the fuck were you supposed to do? look, i can replace the couch you mauled and the TV and vases you broke but i can’t replace you getting hurt because you tried to stave off the shift. we’ll go shopping for new ones together, ok? and we’ll get some cheap shit you can break for next month and a couple steaks for you to fuck up. i promise i’m not mad- hey get off me you big lug stop fucking licking me your mouth tastes like couch cushions…”
- “it’s actually so real to be worried about hurting your human partner in bed. you won’t hurt her, dude, i’ve known her for years you should be more scared of her than she is of you. they make, like, these rings. it’s like a silicone spacer- no it goes on your dick, idiot. it’s so you don’t like fuck into her cervix or whatever. supposedly those help? idk if they come in wolf sizes though.”
show me the negative stuff, too. show me:
- werewolves who muzzle themselves in cities even though it’s only a first quarter moon because they’re scared they’ll snap and hurt someone even though that fear makes them so careful around everyone they never would
- wolves who have moon trackers on their phone because they need to know when they’re going to get forced into a shift so they can get away from everyone because they don’t want to get violent but they can’t control it and the last time they were around someone she ended up in the hospital. she’s really understanding about it and they’re friends now but it doesn’t make it feel any less horrible
- wolves who get asked every single fucking time they get nice dinner, “so do you want your steak cooked, or what?” by waiters who think they’re funny but really aren’t
- werewolves who walk on eggshells in public because they know if they make any minor mistake or show any aggression whatsoever the pundits on the news will talk about “a werewolf snarled at my kid today. i mean i try to be trusting but you never know with those people. they have those fangs for a reason is all i’m saying.”
- werewolves who are scared to shift in public for the same reason as above, because they know how they’ll be perceived if they show people they’re a wolf
- werewolves who can’t find wolf doctors in their area so they keep going back to human doctors who don’t know how the fuck to treat their unique health conditions and when they complain about this they get a flippant “have you tried a veterinarian?”
- werewolves in therapy because their last relationship was with a human who sucked and it was really bad and that trauma has manifested as resource guarding and reactivity issues and it’s causing problems at work
i love this stuff. i want more. i also cannot write conclusion paragraphs to save my life so this is the end now. thanks for reading all this if you’re reading this.
😊
#not terato#really#speculative fiction#disability#transgender#personality disorder#worldbuilding#werewolf#long fucking thread#terato blog#monster biology post#sort of
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Chapter 13 - You are my Number One.
Summary: Katsuki is more freaked out about Y/N’s appointment than Y/N herself.
Warning: Swear words, nothing too cheeky this time!
First Chapter Master List
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It’s 5AM in the fucking morning but Katsuki is already freaking out.
He’s not worried. He has no reason to be; he’s not a fucking doctor but he knows there is no way Y/N’s appointment will bear anything but good news; she’s healthy and full of energy, her movements are back to normal even without the meds, so really, there is no reason for him to be a big ball of anxiety right now.
No reason.
But… he still can’t stop spiraling about the ‘what if’s.
What if she only looks fine and after a few tests the doctor decides to put her back on the meds? His woman is strong, the strongest person in the world but she would break down to hear that after all the work she’s done to get better.
What if the doctor tells him to wait another year before she goes back to actual hero work? Again, she would loose her shit. She would probably burn the whole hospital down out of frustration. Katsuki is not a big fan of rescue missions and it’s also way too fucking early for that shit. He does miss the adrenaline of being on the field but he definitely does not miss the smell of burnt flesh and he might be the number two hero, but he definitely can’t save more than 3000 people in one go, especially as at least half of them are disabled and incapable of running.
“Woman.” Katsuki shakes his still sleeping girlfriend with a manic face. “Whatever happens today you can NOT burn the hospital down.” He yells with a serious face but his woman only snorts at him.
“The fuck, Katsuki?” She laughs and oh god, he absolutely fucking loves her sleepy little laugh. “Why are you the one freaking out? You look I just went into labor.” Honestly, Katsuki wishes that was the case. Even though, now that he said that, Y/N would probably burn the hospital down due to her frustration from being in so much pain for so long. Okay, no kids for Katsuki then. It’s a small sacrifice for the greater good. “What the fuck are you muttering about?” She giggles at him so Katsuki decides to change the topic by pushing a big cup of coffee into his girlfriend’s hands. It works every time. Nothing is more important than a morning coffee. Not even mass murder. Good.
Katsuki feels like he’s about to throw up. His face must be really pale as the Menace looks at him with worry etched into her features.
“We need to leave in twenty minutes, hurry up.” Katsuki makes a hard turn and stomps towards his dresser to find something normal. What do people wear to hospitals at all? His usual attire in a hospital usually consist of a hero suit soaked through with his own blood. Or ridiculously oversized trousers and a hoodie three times the size of him topped up with a cap and a face mask or at least that’s what he used to wear when he was forced to go to therapy.
This time, Katsuki wants to look… well… proper. He’s not going there alone, he’s going with his partner, his future wife (probably?!), the woman he’s so fucking proud of; he wants her to be proud of him too. It’s stupid, he knows, but somehow, it feels like this is important; this is the first time they attend an important appointment together. This is the first time he’s going to be seen as Y/N’s boyfriend. Katsuki feels like he’s about meet her parents or some shit.
“You don’t need to come with me, I’ll be fine alone.” She mutters, but that’s the last thing Katsuki wants to do.
“Do I fucking look like I’m capable of sitting on my ass right now, you idiot?” Katsuki lashes out. “I want to be there, I want to hold your hand and shit. I want to… fuck, I want to be there with you. I want to share the burden. You see, I’m already freaking out so you don’t have to. You can just giggle and be fucking adorable while I shit my pants. I’m perfectly fine with that.”
“Katsuki, you don’t make any sense but… thank you?” She giggles again and Katsuki swears he would be able to survive without water and food and get his nutrients from Y/N’s laughter instead. He’s so fucking fucked, isn’t he?
“Put some clothes on and let’s go.” Katsuki takes a plain black T-shirt and some tight jeans out of his dresser and makes a beeline to the bathroom. “If you don’t have proper clothing on by the time I come back you are going to the hospital in your pajamas.” Katsuki threatens but it doesn’t have an edge.
“Roger that, boss!” Y/N salutes before Katsuki slams the bedroom door aggressively.
~•💥•~
“Keep your eyes on the road, Kats, I won’t disappear.” You smile at your boyfriend who’s absolutely freaking the shit out right now, for no reason at all. It’s a little bit endearing.
You always knew he cares so much more than he’s willing to admit; he’s secretly a big softie for all his friends, even though he does nothing but yell at them all the time, but this is the first time Katsuki feels safe enough to actually show his affectionate side to anyone else and it makes you so fucking proud to be on the receptive side of it even if it’s a tiny bit annoying.
You don’t want to know how has Katsuki felt when you were gone for a day of this is how he reacts to a doctor’s appointment. Maybe you should thank Todoroki and Midoriya for keeping him alive while you were away back then.
“Technically…” Katsuki is about to give you shit and go all nerd on you, but you don’t let him finish.
“Technically, I can disappear, yes, but it doesn’t matter if you stare at me or not, I can literally do that anyway.” You retort scoldingly.
“Sorry, I’m just really fucking worried.” Katsuki sighs, his eyes finally back on the road. You sigh and move your your hand to caress the blond’s thigh, drawing soothing circles on his jeans to calm him down.
“You have no reason to be. It’s over, Katsuki. I’m over it and I know I won this fight, I just need a stupid paper from the doctor that makes it official. I trust my gut and my gut tells me I’m good. Don’t you trust me, KitKat?”
Katsuki visibly shakes at the new nickname you just gave him; thank god you two were waiting for the light to turn green, otherwise he would’ve caused an accident by stepping on the brake so suddenly.
“What’s with you and your stupid nicknames?” Katsuki mutters with the most adorable pout on his flushed little face.
“I can’t help it, you are so fucking cute.” You giggle and Katsuki is about to explode out of embarrassment when a loud honk coming from behind startles you both; the light turned green and you didn’t realize. Oh fuck.
“You are insufferable.” Katsuki mutters in front of himself and the rest of the ride is silent. You know your boyfriend well enough to know that nothing will calm him down right now anyway, so you just let him mutter to himself for the rest of the journey.
For your surprise, Katsuki intertwines his fingers with yours right when you stand by his side after the ride. His hold is downright painful, but you decide to not speak up about it; Katsuki clearly needs this right now and seeing him so stressed about something that doesn’t even affect him in any way makes you realize how important you are for him. Bakugou Katsuki can’t seem to stop surprising you these days, in a good way.
“Hello.” Katsuki mutters at the entrance; it looks like it literally pains him to be nice to someone else for once, but he does it anyway. Why? You have no fucking idea. Katsuki looks at the amused lady at the front desk with a constipated face. “Appointment. For Y/N.” Katsuki mutters again, his face red as a tomato. You don’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t need to do this at all as everyone knows your face by now.
“End of the hallway, right side, 235. Good luck!” The lady gives you a thumbs up and you can barely smile back as Katsuki is already pulling you towards the fore-mentioned door. He knock three times aggressively and the door opens; the nurse’s face pales at the sight of the number two hero towering against her at 6AM in the fucking morning.
“Ahh, Y/N! Come on in, your guest can wait in the waiting room until we finish!” The nurse gives Katsuki a forced smile, already knowing there’s gonna be drama.
“I’m not a fucking guest, I’m her boyfriend! I took care of her fucking ass this whole week! I should be allowed to come in!” Katsuki almost yells at the poor nurse, but his voice gets quieter as he finishes his sentence. Fuck, he’s trying so hard.
“Sir, I understand but we need your girlfriend’s full attention. We need to do some tests as well today. Please, take a seat outside.” She points at the bench on the hallway. “Would you like some tea, or some coffee? We have some pastries as well if you are hungry!”
Wow, you do get a different treatment when you are the number two hero in the country.
“Do I look like I need caffeine, woman?” Katsuki mutters under his nose, his hands still in yours. “Just fucking… go…” the blond mutters, slowly letting you free from his grasp.
“I’ll be fine. I love you.” You hug your boyfriend tightly, hoping he can feel how grateful you are for everything. The nurse steps back into the office and leaves the door open for you to come in when you are ready. You didn’t miss the tiny fond smile on her face as she left.
“You are invincible. Whatever fucking happens today… you are… you are my number one.” Katsuki’s head is about to explode. Your heart skips a beat.
“I’m the luckiest fucking bitch to walk this Earth. Fuck, Katsuki.” You can’t stop yourself from jumping on him and kissing him fiercely in the middle of the thankfully empty hallway like your life depends on it. It takes him a few seconds to reciprocate but when he does it gets even harder to let him go; he kisses you with the same fervor, his touches hot and full of desire. He pulls away rather abruptly, takes a few deep breaths then he finally speaks up:
“Go before I devour you in the middle of this stupid hallway that smells like cheap bleach.”
“I’ll be out before you know it.” You smile and leave a last, lingering kiss on the blond’s lips before you close the door on his cute, anxious face. You’ve never been into the whole marriage thing but you kinda want to elope with him right here, right now.
“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh as you sit down in front of your doctor, who can’t hide his amused face as he takes in your red lips and disheveled hair.
“I really want to tell you off for coming to my office looking like that but I’m actually quite impressed. So who’s the lucky guy?” The doctor smirks at you; your cheeks flush, making you look like a ripe tomato but he only laughs at that.
“See it for yourself after we are done here, sir.”
This is it. This is fucking it.
Oh shit, you haven’t been anxious at all before but now it kicks you in the face as you take in your doctors office, the white walls and all the equipment he’s about to use on you.
“Whatever happens, you are my number one.” Katsuki’s words play in your head like a mantra as your body slowly lets go of all the tension that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
It doesn’t matter what the doctor says; it might sound super cheesy but even if you can never be a hero again, having Katsuki by your side, saving people for the both of you is more than enough for you.
So this is what people call “love”. It’s so powerful it changes even the strongest, most determined people.
You can’t help but giggle to yourself from your own silly thoughts.
You really are the luckiest person in the world, aren’t you?
… Next chapter!
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Potato ramble:
- This story is about end in a few chapters. I gave this a lot of thought and I realized I don’t need to write down every single idea I had for this one otherwise this story will never end and I have so many other stories in my head I want to share with you all, so I made the executive decision to try to finish this in 5 chapters (you guys know me though, that will be 10 lol).
- My plan is to finish this one, take a bit of a break and continue posting only the Deku one for a few weeks then come back with the Kirishima spin-off and then later with a new Katsuki x Reader series. I already have a few chapters ready for both but I’m trying to aim for having almost the whole thing written out before I start posting to not overwhelm myself but I might change my mind about that as I really enjoy to hear your thoughts and add some things you want to see and I absolutely love to listen to your feedback and make the next chapters more enjoyable. It’s hard to be an adult, I just wanna write and read your comments 24/7 😂
- Ah, also! I got over excited and I already have edited the header for the Kirishima spin-off! I hope you like it!
Yes, there is a typo in it, I’ll sort that out later shut up 😂
- I hope you guys had a lovely week and sorry for being so late; I got some bad news from the doctors and it messed up my head a little bit, I also did several extremely early shifts in a row and was dead tired in the afternoon so I had a hard time writing this week. Next week will be even worse so yeah… sorry in advance 😂
TL: @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou x self insert#bakugo x you#shenanigansbypurplepotato#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki
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ngl I was ranting to my friend about this but I think the worst part of becoming physically disabled for me is not the shock, not the pain or shitty doctors or rescheduling or confusion or fear, but the way people start fucking treating you.
I have had so many people, good people, people I’ve known for years, start treating me completely differently. And not in like an oh it’s awkward now and sometimes they ask dumb questions way. I mean they’ve started observing my every movement, trying to find some inconsistency and “catch me lying”, calling me out openly and accusing me of faking, trying to prove I’m not really disabled. More than one person who I know has done this.
I don’t know if abled people understand how insanely awful that is to do to someone. I don’t know what’s wrong with my body either, but I know what I can and can’t do. The idea that they know my body better than me is already shitty. Not only that, these people who I know and have known (often for years), are now telling me to my face that they think I’m the kind of person who would do something like faking a disability for attention. like are you fucking serious? Did you always think that low of me, or is it just because I’m a cripple now that you feel comfortable assuming that?
The main reason I’m avoiding getting a wheelchair even though my crutches aren’t working well for me anymore is because it will get worse. I can take most ableism, that attitude is not one I can take easily. It makes me nervous to exist in public, makes me nervous to do what’s right for my body.
Like, it’s disgusting, it pisses me the fuck off. How dare you treat me like I’m not a person anymore just because I’m disabled. And don’t pull that “well it’s hard for people to accept” bullshit. Shut up. You think that’s hard? I was a physically healthy person who went on walks everyday before this. Do you want to imagine being 17 in the middle of senior year and randomly losing that, and having no idea why, as it slowly progresses and doctors keep being useless? Does that sound awful to you? I bet it does- so then imagine you go through that, but the whole time your best friends and family are standing there and instead of supporting you, they’re obsessing over your movements and telling you to your face with no shame that they think you’re a lying attention seeking asshole. Imagine how terrible that would be. Imagine how betrayed you’d feel.
Idk, I wanna emphasize again that the people who do this are good people, because y’all seem to not want to acknowledge how normalized this treatment of disabled people is. You see it in media, comedy, conversation, everywhere. Abled people don’t want us to exist, so they accuse us of being fake and it seeps into everyone.
#vent#ableism#also if you’re able bodied at all *including nd* this doesn’t apply to you end of story thanks bye#Thinking about this makes me mad actually#cripple punk
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I just want to be some guy
As a trans man, I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere in the lgbt+ community because I’ll never be attractive to anyone (which is why I ID as queer but even then I feel outcast) and it…. it really hurts sometimes. I’m simultaneously too masculine and not masculine enough.
in the men who are attracted to men spaces, most people when they see me think I’m a twink because of being short/small and/or for being trans/nonbinary. They think I’m hairless, feminine, boyish, submissive, etc. I’m…. at this point in my life I am really really not. Testosterone has made me male and everything that entails. I’ve gained (healthy! good for me!) weight and my stomach sticks out, I’m covered in body hair, I am partway to balding. All the things that are conventionally unattractive about men. All the things that are demonized in trans men. I’m too masculine to fit their idea of a nonbinary person. But masculine in “the wrong way”. I have to either be muscular/fit or small and hairless to be wanted here. I don’t even count as a bear, you’d probably just call my shape a “dad bod”. This isn’t just some vague feeling I get in these spaces- people have legit said to me “oh I love twinks” or “oh I love femboys” and I have to awkwardly explain that no I’m not one actually. I’m not what they want me to be. And I’m really tired of people placing that expectation on me- that I’m a slender hairless twink who is submissive and likes bottoming. Just because I’m small and/or trans. so gross.
and then in the women who are attracted to men spaces well… they’d never look twice at me. I’m short and not at all muscular/toned/fit. Again, I have gained weight, am hairy, and halfway to bald. Bedsides not being conventionally attractive- they usually want a man who can “provide”. I am disabled and can’t work. I can’t drive. I can’t give them flowers or pick them up for a date. I can’t be any of the things they’re looking for in a partner. Being disabled makes me seen as “less than”. Being dependent on other people is a trait that is endlessly mocked in men. I’m not masculine enough.
so where the fuck does that leave me? I’m not even going to talk about how being aromantic in queer spaces alienates me further. I love testosterone, I love what it’s done for me and how I feel healthier on it. But like. fuck. I don’t feel like I’m ever going to be attractive to anyone. I never get to feel pretty or handsome. I never get to feel happy about my appearance anymore and that makes me so sad. I used to derive so much joy from picking out outfits and accessorizing and applying glittery make up. I’m too sick to leave the house ever so I don’t do those things anymore, besides the fact that I *can’t* present feminine anymore without risking my safety. People would assume I’m a trans woman and act accordingly because they see a man attempting to be feminine. I am fully man and fully nonbinary, but I never get to exist as both at the same time. I can’t be feminine without people invalidating/forgetting my manhood. I can’t be masculine without people invalidating/forgetting my nonbinary-ness. I’m too masculine for nonbinary spaces and too nonbinary for masculine spaces. I just…….. I get incredibly sad about this.
And people generally don’t care??? the sentiment seems to be that trans men who are masculine, who pass, who are stealth, etc don’t belong in the lgbt+ community, shouldn’t be in lgbt+ or queer spaces. They’re not wanted there because of being masculine. These spaces are only for “non-men”. But the second you talk about your struggles as a trans man as a reason for why you should be included, you get pegged as an owo twink femboy to most people. It’s always one or the other (demonized or infantilized) and I’m really fucking sick of it. It hurts. I just want to be some guy.
#transmisandry#transandrophobia#trans masc#nonbinary#trans male#transgender#disability#fey talks#idk how to tag this at all#i hope this will resonate with some people#i've completely given up dating at this point although i dont want to#i just dont have the energy to sift through 99% of the people who want nothing to do with someone like me#I dont feel like I have any community at this point in time even in online spaces#i dont feel like I fit in anywhere and it is incredibly isolating#i wish i could see myself as handsome or attractive in any capacity#can we please stop shaming men for being bald and hairy#can we please stop infantilizing disabled men#can we please stop calling all trans men twinks or femboys solely bc they are trans#sometimes i want to stop T just to be accepted again#but i cant i need the T for my health issues#does being both man and nonbinary at the same time make me multigender?
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To understand disability issues better there needs to be a serious talk about the link between disability and freedom of choice (or lack thereof).
Western society loves to brag about freedom of choice in terms of being free to do and say and think whatever (we have seen a lot of it during lockdown and regarding vaccine and such and from that it became clear that people don’t really know what “freedom” really means).
So let me straight up tell you that we, disabled people (not all but a lot of us) don’t have much freedom of choice.
First of all, if you consider inaccessibility, we are not free to go wherever we want or socialise or work wherever or attend any kind of universities or schools (yes, I know people who had to give up going to the uni or school of their dreams because they didn’t want/couldn’t provide accessibility).
If an able-bodied person has to find any kind of job to not end up homeless or starve they can do whatever minimum wage job that involves physical strain until they are back on their feet. This is not possible for some disabled people (like me). So this leaves me (us) out of some choices. And in a precarious financial situation.
Some disabled people aren’t free to go to certain shops or restaurants or bars or shows or events etc. because of inaccessibility.
Disabled people who need assistance to travel with public transport can’t choose to travel on their own terms or jump on a last-minute trip because assistance needs to be booked 24 hour earlier in most cases (and some require even 48 hours).
Disabled people can’t always choose the cheapest option because that is usually inaccessible for us so we have to spend more money and not because we like fancy stuff. Also, disabled people are the poorest community and in some countries you can’t have more than a certain amount of money in your bank account if you don’t want to see your benefits gone (benefits that, I highlight, are essential for our survival) so we cannot even climb the social ladder. Another layer of choice stripped away from us.
Disabled people can’t chose where to live or who to live with. Some disabled people need assistance and, since finding a PA is hard and they need to be paid, some of us have to live with our parents or family members and if they are abusive or the relationship isn’t working we can’t just decide to walk out. Because who is gonna help us then? That’s why a lot of abuse towards disabled people remains undiscovered. Some disabled people can’t even acknowledge it and report it.
Many of us can’t just move away from a city or a country because our well-being is tied to a supporting network that we wouldn’t find anywhere else. Not to mention doctors and medications that might not be available somewhere else. So if we complain about the situation of the place we live or that we don’t like to live where we live, it’s not so easy for us to leave everything and move somewhere else (for some it’s impossible).
Disabled people aren’t always free to choose to have kids. The medical system and society’s prejudices make it hard for disabled parents to have kids and there is always a lot of judgment towards disabled parents, especially mothers. Many of us risk to have our children taken away by social workers.
Disabled people don’t have the freedom to choose for their own bodies.
I’m sure I’m forgetting something else but these are the things that worry me the most, regarding my own life and the life of my community.
The only thing this society seems pretty happy to make us choose is assistive dying.
But please, tell me again that we are in it for the money. That we have benefits so we don’t have to work and lazy around all day. Tell me that our lives must be easy.
Even on my off days I’m not free to choose what to do because I might have a flare up, I might be in pain, I might have to go to the doctor.
Oh and one last thing: your freedom to not get your vaccine hinders someone’s freedom to go around. Someone’s freedom to live.
For some reason, this society is quick to judge and justify everything that keeps away disabled people’s choices.
Some able-bodied people think that it is okay to equal disability to a lower quality of life but that lower quality of life depends only on external factors and could be easily improved.
Fuck you!
#cripple punk#disability#cpunk#cripple#crip revolution#crip punk#disability justice#disability rights#disability pride#freedom of choice#disabled#disabled woman#actually disabled#physical disabilities#intellectual disabilities#mental disabilities#sensory disabilities#discrimination#ableism
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Ok so this is me sorta headcanoning, so take this with a grain of salt, but one of the reasons why the infantilization of Rogue always bothers me is because I always felt like her powers were a metaphor for disability/chronic illness and fandom police act already like disabled women aren't capable of being in their own villain romances, example being Entrapdak antis denying Entrapta her own agency in her romance with Hordak in the She-Ra reboot.
Oh! But you make a really good point! It’s one of those subtle perspectives that can be dangerous just because of how easy they are to integrate into someone's view of the world. I'm not as vocal online as I used to be.
I feel like there are people out there far better equipped to talk about it than I, while I grow old and cranky. But, you brought up a really important aspect that kinda sent me into a 'hold my beer' moment so apologies for the long answer!
To start with, I wouldn’t call this a headcanon, not at all, clearly not in the context of X-men, and Rogue in particular. It’s a very apt analogy. The reason why these characters become relevant to us is because we recognize something from our personal journey in them, and the comparison you made for Rogue is a very strong one. Her inability to touch can absolutely be read as a disability! In so many of her stories/arcs it is often portrayed as a struggle, as an obstacle to a ‘normal life’. Her difficulties with gaining control over her powers and dealing with other personalities that are trying to take over her mind can also be a strong metaphor for mental health struggles/disorders. Rogue is a fantastic hero in that regard and seeing her be her own person, learning how to work and be proud of what she can do, can feel like a personal victory for so many people. It’s why it’s important to see her happy, to see her winning her battles and use who she is and what she can do in a positive and impactful way.
There are many reasons why fans end up taking away her agency or attributing her choices to a different (often male) character. And, to be fair, a couple of comic-book writers have done this exact thing to her, so I can see where this skewed perspective might be coming from. Within fandom this happens mostly because it serves to support their arguments for whatever thing they prefer or project onto the character. If they don’t like a certain narrative or can’t accept that it might’ve be written for someone else, they have this to fall back on and point to. Or, sadly, one of the simplest reasons for doing this is the age-old turning their ship preferences into ‘I’m right, you are wrong’ arguments. But these things can hide some internalized misconceptions.
Unfortunately I haven’t seen the reboot of She-Ra (shame on me) so I don’t have the full picture for the take on Entrapta, but now I have one more reason to invest some time in it. In this situation with Rogue, I believe that what you mentioned applies very well. The argument that I’ve seen going around a lot is that Rogue was manipulated/swayed by being presented with the opportunity to ‘be normal’. Because she wanted to be able to touch and as a result she was taken advantage of because of her ‘disability’. Which is entirely false. In no version of the relationship between Rogue and Magneto in the comics, and not even in the reinvented take in the animation, has he ever abused that. Her attraction to him has always, always, come first, and the ability to touch, second. He was never the first one to act upon it. Even in the animation, every shot in the flashback was carefully considered to portray that - she is shown as the initiator every time (my favourite scene is when she’s trying her very best to pose in a suggestive way and he just paints her as he sees her, lively and sincere). But some fans don’t want to see that. They don’t want to acknowledge the authenticity of her decisions because it doesn’t serve the narrative they want of her/for her.
I read your message and it hit like a hammer how much deeper this problem can actually go, because it’s masked by those surface-level justifications. Removing agency and responsibility from someone just because they operate differently than one’s expectations is damaging in and of itself, and within a fandom it perpetuates an idea that can stifle people’s perspective and critical thinking.
(This whole topic actually reminded me of Madison Tevlin's “Assume that I can” commercial. I think it's relevant to the conversation) Thanks a lot for sharing this!!! We need to talk more about these things and if I misspoke on something or missed something important would love to hear it. 💜
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Fusion (JJBA) - “Lisha Adkuna”
Limbo Adkins + Trish Una
presenting the fusion of my oc limbo with Trish for absolutely no reason I just was thinking about her so fuckinn much . specifically a monster au variant for reasons i dont really know.
"Lisha" Adkuna (either Lih-sha or Lee-sha add-kew-nah), fusion of Limbo Adkins and Trish Una, User of fusion Stand 「IT GIRL」.
A 「My Space」*-classic median fusion, meaning that most of her basic traits fall between what they are for Trish and Limbo; thus, she's 16 years old, about 5'3.5" or 161.29 cm tall, and - as is common for fusions where components share the same pronouns, she/her in this case - is identifiable by she/her rather than they/them.
She has a soft, light, somewhat high-pitched voice, fairly reminiscent of Rosemary Fairweather (which incidentally was another possibility for the Stand name), a la 'Washing Machine', which is incidentally also her musical style, considering Limbo is a musician and post-PHF Trish is a pop star. makes the best collab ever with myself
Fusions with Limbo tend to automatically take her cloud tattoo and present it differently in a way that relates to the fusion in some way. Lisha's tat is... particularly drastic in difference and... interesting, to say the least.
Side note. That's a bracelet. Her hand is fine.
(* see bottom of post)
The fusion between Trish's 「Spice Girl」 and Limbo's 「Cloud Nine」 is
「IT GIRL」.
「IT GIRL」’s ability, ‘signal fog’, also known as a ‘dead zone’, effectively makes signals ‘soft’.
It works in an AOE. When it is active, within the ‘fog’s reach, signals will become distorted automatically. Technology will become static or fuzzy, it becomes exceptionally hard to see, and even vocal speech is hard to decipher.
However, anyone who is outside of the fog’s range is unaffected by it. In fact, they can’t actually see the fog and can see anything within it fine. As soon as they enter the fog, it’s tangible; visibility is severely lowered, similar to a very thick natural fog, though it has the look of digital or visual snow.
Stands are disrupted (though not disabled) by default; as Limbo would explain it, the connection between a Stand and its User is, itself, a signal.
I made a sketch sheet too but it's ambiguously-anachronistic
aka i can't tell you at what point in the timeline this would be occurring since
1. fugo is clearly post phf,
2. narancia and limbo have not gotten together with mista yet,
3. narancia.
so basically just dont worry about it
text is kinda small though so here's close-ups
Fugo: Ciao, Tr.. Trish? Limbo?
Lisha: Both. Lisha.
Fugo: ... What do you mean, 'both'
Lisha: Long story. Elephants and conjoined twins. You wouldn't get it
Fugo: ... And can it, uh... be fixed?
Lisha: Working on it.
Fugo: Okay, well, the next full moon-
Lisha: Is soon, yeah.
(Lisha, labelled in a side note as "half-girlfriend (Limbo is his girlfriend)
Lisha, Limbo voice, with delight: Ciao, Narancia!
Narancia, labelled "faceblind": ..... who the fuck are you
(Lisha is further labelled, "looks sounds and smells too much like both Trish and Limbo for him to tell it's either of them")
Internal Trish voice: Limbo why are you about to burst into tears
Lisha, Trish voice: No, because I was trying to tell him about me -
Lisha-Trish, continued: I mean I was trying to -
Lisha-Trish, continued, angrily: FUCKDAMMIT! It was Trish!
Lisha-Trish, continued, exasperated: It's weird to talk about myselves in the third person!
( a side note to her right points to her purple keyhole sweater and reads "Her only other "default" outfit option. Neither one of her know why she gets a sweater that looks like this, though... )
(Internally)
Trish: AREN'T YOU LITERALLY DATING NARANCIA!?
Limbo: I know!!!
Trish: AND YOU THINK ABOUT MISTA LIKE THAT?!
Limbo: I KNOW!!!
Trish: He is literally gross girl what is wrong with you
Limbo: He's nice to me!
Trish: ...
Trish: GET BETTER STANDARDS??? OH MY GOD
(Externally)
Lisha, Trish voice: (points threateningly at Mista) Don't talk to me.
Internal Limbo voice: DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT!!!
Mista: (Didn't say anything) (Was watching her zone out for like two minutes just glaring at him (thinks one of them is mad at him))
(Internally)
Trish: It's for your own good.
Limbo: What if he's mad at me!!
Trish: Wh-mad at you!?? How the fuck do you live like this?!?
Limbo: I'm so fucking far away from nirvana you genuinely would not fucking believe
Lisha: Well, see, the Full Moon is coming up soon and... I don't know if that's gonna be an issue for me... I'm on a bit of a time crunch trying to... uh... un-me myselves.
* 「My Space」 is a Stand belonging to a pair of conjoined twins (Eve and Belynda, or "Evelynn"). It takes a form resembling a conjoined pair of elephants, and its ability is simply to fuse two individuals into a single entity, both fusing their physical form and their Stands. Due to the way it does this, fusions function as a collective or co-consciousness, akin to a sort of very complicated Dissociative Identity Disorder; both components are generally actively conscious at all times, though they are able to speak either collectively or individually.
Considering this shared consciousness, fusions created by 「My Space」 are practically unable to refer to their fusion as a collective, as both sides view the body as themself. Thus, fusions usually say ‘i’ or ‘me’ instead of ‘we’ or ‘us’. This is also confusing when the sides try to refer to each other, as they will usually still refer to the other as ‘me’, since both are always actively conscious, even if only one is actively speaking. However, ‘myselves’ is a very common malaprop for fusions.
Evelynn refuse to undo the fusions unless their victim tracks them down and is able to convince them, usually by amusing or impressing them with some kind of talent or skill. They consider their Stand's ability a performance and insist it's only fair that they're entertained in return (really most of the separating process is just trying to track the twins down).
#probably not canon to monster au#golden wind#vento aureo#my space fusion arcs#jjba#jjba fanart#monster au#jojo fanart#jojos bizarre adventure#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba monster au#jojo au#jjba au#so this is what homeworld thi-#monster au meme#Pannacotta Fugo#Fugo Pannacotta#Trish Una#Guido Mista#Narancia#Narancia Ghirga#Limbo Adkins#jjba oc#jojo oc#fanstands#amby draws#my art#monster au profile#limbo fusions#lisha adkuna
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I love your writing!! Question. What would have Viktor done post surgery has Jayce not shown up in our hextech dream series?
Oh thank youuuuu I’m so glad you enjoy my writing 🥰 (this ask is in regards to Equilibrium, part of my ongoing JayVik series)
In my interpretation, Viktor is extremely private about his health. If he can do something himself, he always will. And I think we see that in the show; when something is wrong, he pushes Jayce away (when he became dizzy and got the nosebleed at the Hexgate—Jayce showed concern, and Viktor brushed him off with “headache. I need to get to the lab.”)
So unfortunately I think Viktor would have tried to do all of that himself—changing bandages, etc. and if he found that he truly needed help, he would call on someone from the hospital/infirmary/whatever the fuck Piltover calls it. But I really do think that’s a last resort for him. He values his privacy, especially being a Zaunite living in Piltover. He’s probably grown into the habit of safekeeping personal information so that it can’t be used against him to sully his already fragile and hard-won reputation. He knows, intimately, how much harder he has to work to be respected by Piltover’s elite class, and he refuses to give them even a crumb to nibble on. Even when it hurts him in the short term, because it’s the end game that matters. It’s his life and work here in Piltover that matters, if it helps him improve the lives of people in Zaun.
So… he likely wouldn’t have sought out help. He probably would have bathed only as often as was absolutely necessary to keep the area clean, and probably wouldn’t have eaten much for several days, to avoid moving. It would have been hell for a little while, but a hell he is well acquainted with. Which is why it took Jayce barging in on his life like a battering ram for him to concede a little bit; Jayce just had to prove he was a trustworthy guardian of this knowledge, and he had to keep proving it. Old habits die hard, and Viktor is stubborn to begin with. Jayce just has to keep needling at him and reminding him that you’re safe with me.
Thank you again, it means the world to me to know you like my writing!! 💕
Also a quick note to add to this that I am not disabled, I don’t know what the experience is like, but I do love and care for people who are. And if ever I address the topic without sensitivity, or I said something harmful, please do tell me! My DMs are open, anon is on.
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The emotional whiplash of a late autism diagnosis.
When I first thought about reaching out for an autism diagnosis, I did not expect the emotional roller-coaster it put me through.
I had suspected I was autistic since 13 years old. I was self diagnosed since 18 years old. I’m now 22, meaning I had related to and thought about being autistic for close to a decade.
Basically, I thought I was really comfortable with the idea of being autistic. It felt right, it felt good to know what was “wrong” with me. Even whilst going through the assessment process I was ecstatic. I was so excited to finally be able to confidently say “I am autistic”. Or be able to explain away my oddities and struggles. To finally be able to prove why I struggle with certain things.
Even for a few days after my diagnosis, I was so happy. I finally had my answer. I was right all along, I am autistic.
Then, “oh shit. I’m autistic. I will be autistic, for my whole life...”.
Complete, joyful certainty, was followed by doubt, fear and shame.
I am going to be autistic for the *rest* of my existence. I am going to be disabled for the rest of my existence. I am going to struggle with my sensory issues, my social struggles, my difficulty with connection, my sense of feeling out of place...
... for the rest of my life.
It almost felt like a death sentence, despite having been so comfortable with the diagnosis before I got professionally assessed.
Realising that I was actually a medically, 100% authentic, autisitic meant that I had to face the fact that I would NEVER be neurotypical. I can NEVER be normal. This is who I am, forever.
Yes, there are treatments and therapies and meds, but this won’t just go away. Being diagnosed doesn’t make it go away. It makes you realise just how permanent it is.
So, for a few weeks after my diagnosis, I have been grieving. I know that sounds weird but the idea of who I was, am, and will be, has had to completely change for me.
I will never be able to overcome my autistic traits. I thought through self improvement and hard work I could overcome my social anxiety, food aversions, high sensitivity and social blindness. But I won’t. Not completely. I can manage my traits and work on lessening their effect, but autism will ALWAYS influence my life.
Another aspect of being diagnosed that was depressing to me was realising how much time I wasted trying to be neurotypical. I’m an autistic person who tends to mask... a lot. I even referred to myself in the past as a chronic people pleaser... during some points of my life I feel as though I completely lost my identity to masking. To trying to be something I wasn’t.
I’ve had to realise how much time I wasted trying to make myself normal. Years of my life. My entire highschool experience, entire jobs... wasted to the mask. (Masking is not necessarily bad I just personally took it too far).
The part that hurts the worst to me, is realising that I never had a chance. I thought if I masked enough I would pass as normal, be able to live a neurotypical life.
But I never had even a sliver of a chance at succeeding at being neurotypical. At being “normal”. All my efforts were basically for nothing.
I’m sure now that people have always been able to tell I was different, an oddity, perhaps just a bit “eccentric”. But little-me was always destined to fail.
I was always destined to run into major burn out. Masking 24/7 for literal years was guaranteed to destroy my mental health and ruin my identity, self confidence and self worth.
The other aspect I struggled to comes to terms with is how no-one noticed. Looking back at my childhood, I feel as though it is extremely obvious I was struggling. I had few friends, was very emotional, very withdrawn. But because I was doing well in school and could talk no one seemed to want to look further into me.
I know that my lack of a diagnosis was not from a lack of love from my parents. I know that logically. Yet I can’t help but feel betrayed. They didn’t notice such a pervasive and destructive disability (only destructive because of my lack of understanding at the time) in their own kid. I question if they cared, if they loved me. If any of my teachers even gave a shit about me.
But despite all this, I feel as though I am slowly coming to terms with what being autistic will mean for me, and for my life. Being able to identify as disabled has made self compassion so much easier for me already.
To finish off, I want to let you all know that this is my warning. Self diagnosis is a wonderful thing. But no matter how comfortable you feel with your self diagnosis, if you go to get a professional diagnosis please be prepared for a LOT of feelings. It’s a lot to process. Please be kind to yourself. <3
#actually autistic#autism#mental disability#developmental disorder#autism spectrum#ASD#late diagnosed autistic#mental health#OC
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Everyday is a struggle to continue living in a world that I hate living in. Everyday I fight everyday for something I’ve NEVER wanted. Everything is so painful. The sounds are too loud, the lights too bright, the smells too strong, and the clothes too tight. I cope, and I can live with it, but every day is a constant struggle. I just wish God would end it, but he never does, no matter how much I pray.
Everyday I wake up and I have to be a trailblazer for my communities. It is so incredibly hard and challenging. IM AUTISTIC. I go to these places where nobody I know has gone before. These fancy schools, these fancy professions, these fancy degrees, these fancy galas, these social strata, are all so foreign to the people I know that I might as well be visiting an alien planet. I have to learn all of these social cues, unspoken rules, and social etiquette all from scratch with no one to guide me. I AM AUTISTIC. Do you know how hard that is? My disability literally makes it harder for me to do that. Whenever I’ve assimilated into these new social settings I always hear, “oh you were so shy when I first met you but now you’re so social and charismatic!” I was shy because I literally didn’t know what to do. I was quiet because I was so focused on learning the new social norms I couldnt think of anything else. It’s always so much work and it’s always so fuckin tiring. Worse, I have to advocate for my communities in these environments. I have to face so many micro-aggressions on a daily basis. I have to share my communities’ traumas, MY TRAUMAS, so I can advocate for them. Why do I have to tell you what it’s like to have your friends murdered? Why is my people’s plight only perceived in your mind when your friend shares it with you?
Everyday I wake up and my greatest traumas replay in my head. I can’t escape them. They haunt every waking thought and they haunt every dream. Every second of everyday I’m suffering. I’m either flashing back to a traumatic event or getting overstimulated. I’ve never escaped it. I literally cannot remember a single day where I did not suffer from a trauma response, an autistic meltdown, or an autistic shutdown. I usually suffer two or more of these every day. Everyday, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been in mental anguish.
People wonder why I’m not happy, but who would be in my shoes? Do they know how much I suffer? How painful getting up is? How painful every breath is? I’ve never known what happiness feels like. I didn’t realize people could actually be happy until recently. I don’t live because I like living. I live because other people like the fact that I’m alive. I live because God keeps me alive even though my biggest wish is not to be alive.
All the suffering is worth it if I can help one person feel different from how I feel. If I can help just one person not be so lonely, lost, and in pain. God makes me suffer everyday, I know it has to be for a reason. But I just wish it would stop. Everyday I think of Mark 14:32-42. Everyday I pray God takes away my suffering. Yet God keeps me in this mental anguish. I do not know why. I just know I don’t have any fight left in me. But let his will be done and not mine.
#tw depressing thoughts#god loves you#jesus loves you#autistic shutdown#trauma#neurodivergent#sorry for being depressing#autism#autistic meltdown#autistic adult#life#blogging#blogger#blog#autistic experiences#depresión#autistic community#bible verse#faith in god#belief in jesus
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hi!! i’m a huge fan of ur work omg.
i’ve had this idea for a bit but i lack the word skills to write it but: matt x child reader where child is autistic maybe? like how they’d bond over sensory input and output, stuff like that? just a thought idk
hi! i don't want to explicitly say this is for reader with autism, as i don't personally have it and don't want to write it in a way that doesn't represent people with it or offends them in any way. i do, however, suffer from sensory input due to my disability.
as always when writing these i try to be as inclusive as possible, if i have offended anyone in any way, please let me know.
thanks!
-----
“Busy today, hm?” Your dad says, referencing the supermarket that’s overflowing with shoppers.
“We should’ve gone earlier in the week, not on a Saturday.”
“It’s okay, we were out of cereal anyways.” He takes hold of your upper arm as the two of you walk in.
Almost immediately the sounds of the store bombard you, from the squeaky carts to the endless conversations, the beeping of the scanners, not to mention the visual input, the sea of people flowing back and forth. You grit your teeth, the buzzing of the lights making your bones hurt.
“You okay?” Matt asks, squeezing your arm.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, why?”
“Oh, you didn’t respond, I just asked what was first on the list.”
“Bread. We need bread.”
“Lead the way.” You rush through the store, catching your dad off guard as you pull him with you.
“You’re in a rush.” His words slip past your ears as you get bombarded with new sounds, louder this time. Your hands instinctively go over your ears, pressing hard as you try to soothe yourself. Suddenly, the lights get brighter, the world starts spinning, and the crowd doesn’t stop coming.
“No no no.” You murmur, and you feel yourself getting tugged out of the store as you close your eyes.
“Hey, eyes on me, eyes on me.” You hear your dad say. You try your best to focus on him, but when you open your eyes, your surroundings look like a muddied painting, everything looking blended together. Your ears are still ringing and you’re still dizzy.
“Talk to me, what’s going on?”
“Too much, the sound I can’t- dizzy.”
“Okay, hey, let’s try to breathe, okay? We’re in a safe, quiet area. Grab my hands, let’s take a breath.” You squeeze his fingers to high hell, and you know it aches him but you need to ground yourself.
“You’re doing so good, so well. Keep taking those deep breaths, I’m so proud of you.” He stays quiet as he hears your heart fall into a normal paced rhythm, and your breathing gets back to normal.
“Good job, let’s get home, okay?”
“But the groceries-”
“I’ll come back for them, don’t worry your head about that.”
-----
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“I do, actually.”
“Okay, I’m here.” He passes you a hot chocolate and takes his seat next to you on the couch.
“It’s been happening more and more recently. Those- episodes. In school too, I can just hide it well most of the time, y’know? It’s just that sometimes everything gets to be too much, the smells get stronger, my eyes start darting, everything gets so much louder and it makes everything hurt.”
“I get it-”
“Dad-”
“No seriously! I do, I promise. The thing about being Daredevil, these powers that I have, it gets too much. I can’t go out in the rain, it feels like everything is pounding and throbbing around me. I need silk sheets because cotton feels like sandpaper on my skin. I can’t use most shampoos or soaps because the scents burn my nose. I get it, I do, I just wish you told me earlier so I could help you.”
“How? How does this get better?”
“I use grounding techniques, meditation, I even pack headphones to shut out the world sometimes. We could go out in short stints for exposure therapy. I want to help you, and I want you to be able to rely on me for support.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, thanks Dad.”
“That’s what I’m here for, kiddo.”
#matt murdock#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock fanfic#dad!matt murdock#matt murdock x gn!reader#matt murdock x male!reader#matt murdock x male reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female reader#daredevil#daredevil fluff#daredevil fanfic#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#daredevil x fem!reader#daredevil x female reader#daredevil x gn!reader#daredevil x male reader#daredevil x male!reader#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fluff#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel x gn!reader#marvel x fem!reader#marvel x female reader#marvel x male reader#marvel x male!reader#matt murdock x reader
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i’m a stone top and it took me so long to come to terms with that. especially because my stoneness isn’t related to specific trauma, and that was really the only time i’ve ever seen it validated. i often use my disability as an excuse (my meds make it hard to finish, i find it overwhelming sensorily, my nerves don’t work so i can’t feel too much), but frankly i should just be able to say “because i don’t want to.” i adore stone femmes because they’ve always respected my boundaries. they’ve not just tolerated my boundaries, but celebrated them. i’ve found many stone folks (top and bottom) feel the need to justify their stoneness, myself included. it always just makes me so sad to think about
I understand that completely, I guess sometimes we get questioned so much about our boundaries that our position becomes always defensive, unfortunately, I noticed that for myself before, or you kind of stay in a position in which you kind of force yourself to be open and flexible about your boundaries because the criticism gets to you, it sucks. And I've used my disability as well, the fact that I have a problem with my wrist and how easily my hands/fingers can hurt etc, but figuring out that I can just go "I don't want to" was such a revelation to me.
I have a problem with the trauma stereotype too, because it normalises questioning people's boundaries, it normalises making people have to prove themselves to you to have what you decide is valid or not, it normalises pushing back on a "no" and that's not how it works at all. It even normalizes that if the person is traumatized, and you don't know and keep pushing, retraumatizing them. Yes, it could be because of a trauma, but if it wasn't why would you want somebody to do something they don't want to? That's weird.
So I get you, I've heard my boundaries are only valid if I'm traumatized too, I'm so sorry you were made to feel like that and I'll say it again here, your boundaries are valid, regardless of trauma, regardless of your reason for it, if you don't want to do it, you don't have to do it and that's ok.
Oh and yes! I feel the same about stone tops/stone butches, it's so nice to not have to be explaining myself, I can just be and they understand me, they actually appreciate my boundaries, they think it's sexy and ugh, we complement each other!! It's just such a nice feeling being around other stone folks*
Also being with stone butches, their patience and their own boundaries was a big big part in realising I'm a stone femme!
*not to say that people who aren't stone can't understand, I've met some lovely people who aren't and understand, my girlfriend who I love very much and it's extremely respectful of my boundaries for example, it's just I've had so much negative feedback from folks who aren't stone that it makes me insecure sometimes.
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I know I’ll probably get killed for this but I have a theory why LU is the most popular Link Meet AU.
First off, if an AU is drawn instead of written, it’s going to be more popular, because strong visuals give people more stuff to latch onto. Especially if the art is really cool, colored, and distinctive. Each Link in LU has a distinctive design that makes them visually easy to tell apart and a unique skill-set they bring to the table. I know some folks don’t like that Wind and Four are composites of multiple games which are spread over several canonical centuries, but part of why it works is because the games they encompass have very similar looking Links (I’m sorry Spirit sweetie). Every character wears something that naturally exists in their game, but is visually distinct as “them”. Even Four, who looks the most different from his in-game sprites, is still modeled after the stained glass window from Minish Cap. An outsider to Link Meet AUs but a knowledge of Zelda games (like myself) can easily walk into the AU and say “oh ok that’s the Link from Twilight Princess and that’s the one from Skyward Sword” pretty much at a glance.
But there are lots of really cool well drawn distinctive Link Meet AUs out there, so why is this one doing numbers? I think it’s also because there’s very little extra headcanon attached to the LU boys in the comic itself. Everything about them is pretty closely tailored to their games, from appearance to skills to personalities. The only completely canon relationship in LU iirc is Malon and Time are married and Sky and Sun are dating. Most AUs I see add in some of the artists own flair or ships or identities into the Links, which is great, but it can create a more limited sandbox for others to play in. Like if an AU has RavioLi as canon or it’s definite that Link and his Zelda are related, then people who ship ZeLink can’t put their own spin on things. If you’re adding a gender identity or disability or something to your AU, then people feel uncomfortable trying to change that in fanworks, and may not engage as much because of it. And especially if you have like, a big extra non-game mechanic going on that runs how the Links are meeting that people may be intimidated by. Fandom lives in the ability to adapt and project a little. The more you make “canon” to your AU, the fewer wild ideas people will run off with linked to it.
Another reason, and I say this with all the love in my heart, is that because LU has become so intrinsically linked with the hero titles (ie the game names), some people wanna differentiate by giving their Links different names than Time/Twilight/Wind/etc. Which is totally fine and honestly really fun, but it’s not as immediately identifiable for some as the game names, which can be a barrier. And sure, if you know the lore well enough some are obvious—the one with pink hair is the one from ALttP, the one with a fairy name is probably the OG Link, the one with any sort of body of water referenced is probably Wind Waker—sometimes there are overlaps. Like OoT Link and OG Link could both be called fairy boy. Wind Waker and Link’s Awakening could both be island names. This isn’t insurmountable, but it’s a barrier that LU doesn’t really have.
This ain’t to say other Link Meets AUs aren’t great, cuz they are! I follow a few of them and enjoy them immensely, and several get a lot of engagement! This is just my theory as to why LU has become kinda the Ur example of the Link Meet AU, and why the fandom is so big compared to other options.
I’m not tagging this because I honestly don’t want to discourse. I just want to ramble.
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