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mypoisonedvine · 10 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now��"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

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saintjosie · 4 days

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one of the hardest things about doing fundraising for families trapped in gaza has been all of the people who have been dming and commenting asking for help with their fundraisers because we helped one family of four reach their fundraising goal and raise enough to get her family out of gaza.

and my heart breaks because…i can’t. not because i don’t want to. if i could, i would help raise money for every single family. i have spent so many nights over the past few weeks in tears, terrified for raja and her family. i have spent so many nights in tears feeling powerless because there are millions of other who need help and it feels like there is nothing i can do except to help one family at a time.

jess and i are now taking on another fundraiser, this time for more than 5x the amount because we are looking to raise enough to evacuate 12 children and 9 adults. raja’s sister saja was able to evacuate early but the rest of her family is still trapped. one of those 9 adults is a pregnant mother in urgent need of a c-section. another is a elderly diabetic man who hasn’t had access to medication in god knows how long.

and again, i am terrified. i am terrified that we won’t be able to raise enough in time. i am horrified that so many people are dependent on small content creators on the other side of the world to be entertaining enough, or charismatic enough, while the elite who could save dozens of families in a snap, choose to maintain either neutrality or support genocide.

and at the same time, i am hopeful because i have seen an enormous amount of compassion and generosity from so many who have so little. and even thought i cannot bear the weight of saving these people on my own shoulders no matter how hard i try, i have seen the power of solidarity and strength in numbers. we are capable of so much together and i do not carry this on my own. we all support each other.

if you are able to share or to donate, please consider doing so.

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froody · 1 year

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please help my scruggly cat

Tommy, Tumblr micro-celebrity famous for featuring/being the muse for hit posts such as ‘father is…evil?’ and ‘my cat can tell when I’m sad and instinctively bites my toes’ and ‘frustrating each other is our love language’ needs a little financial support. Please consider donating to my ko-fi or buying something from my teespring store.

Tommy was diagnosed with diabetes earlier this year under dramatic circumstances that involved a week long intensive care vet stay. She has stomatitis (an inflammation of the gums and mucus membranes) that she was on steroids for and the steroids may have damaged her pancreas. Since her diagnosis we’ve had a hard time controlling her blood sugar. Her insulin dose goes up and up. The vet thinks she has a good chance of stabilizing, that diabetic cats can and do live long, healthy and happy lives. She’s only 5. Her 6th birthday is later this month. She’s fighting. She wants to live.

Each insulin vial costs $160. Her prescription cat food is $35 for a 4 pound bag. She’s also on gabapentin for her pain and neuropathy and she’ll probably need another course of antibiotics. She currently goes to the vet every two weeks and the cost of that varies immensely. Basically, she’s a much more expensive cat than she was before and the cost of living for me has risen as well. It’s not an immediate emergency but we need funds. I’m disabled, I have an autoimmune disease that attacks my colon, I have a hard time working outside of the home or even at all because my health fluctuates and my energy levels are low. I’m trying so desperately to get better but for now I’m living in my mom’s house and sponging off my loved ones and tapping into my meager savings.

I know what you’re thinking, the thing people always comment on donation posts about pets, “if you can’t afford to care for your cat, why do you still have your cat?” and as biting as that question is, I know it’s a valid one and I’ve thought about it myself. I still have her because I need her and she needs me. She’s like my soulmate animal. We met when I was 16 and she was about 4 weeks old. There was no way I could have known we’d both be struggling sick moneypits in 5 years. I’m trying to give her the best life I can and she’s trying to give me her best self. I’m her person. I’m home 24/7 so we’re so used to having each other. She brings me immense joy and I know she’s brought a lot of other people joy. If you’re one of those people, please consider giving a couple of dollars. If you can’t afford to, that’s fine. Thank you for reading anyway.

TL;DR: cat sick. I’m sick. please help.

#cat health chronicles #tommy #signal boost #important post

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lostmymind-0 · 3 months

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Sugary sweet | LN4 x Piastri!Reader

Words: 2420

Warnings: diabetes, passing out, hospital

Note: I am not diabetic myself but one of my close family members is, so I wrote this off of how it is for them. I do know that it can be different for everyone and please tell me if I got something completely wrong 🙏

Part 2

Lando theoretically knew that it was wrong to have a crush on his teammates sister. He knew that he should not hope for her to be at every race. He knew that it could destroy the friendship he had build with the young Aussi. But Lando could not help but admire Olivia Piastri, the twin sister of his teammate Oscar Piastri. The young girl was an engineering student and did an internship at McLaren, following their engineers and learning directly from them. The first time Lando met the young girl was at testing in Bahrain, where he also found out that she was Oscar’s sister. Both Piastri twins were rather quiet and introverted but Oscar was the more extroverted one even if not by much. Olivia only seemed to really talk when it was about the car and the engineering side of it. She barely chatted with others but instead watched what was happening around her. He mostly sees her when she is shadowing Andrew Jarvis or Will Joseph at race weekends. He tried to make conversation with her but always got interrupted by eighter an engineer, his coach or Oscar.

The Miami GP was the first time Lando got the chance to really talk to the young girl. It was a shitty race for both drivers and the mood in the garage was not too good. Everyone tried to figure out a way to improve the car for the next race in about twenty days. “How is the team treading you?”, Lando asked Olivia as he joined her to take a look at the data. Confused did the girl turn her head to the brit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Are you talking to me?”, she asked, her voice quiet. “Yeah, there is no one else here. So how is everyone treading you?”, Lando joked and repeated his question while leaning against the counter. “Good…everyone is nice to me.”, the girl admitted with flustered cheeks. “Good to hear that. What do you say to the data?”, “The wear on the tire is a bit much and the aerodynamics are also not too good.”, she said quietly. Looking at the data and recalling the race Lando agreed completely with her. They talked a little more about the car and data before Lando lead the conversation a little bit more to personal stuff. To her own surprise did Olivia felt pretty comfortable talking to Lando. Sure she also felt pretty flustered every time he looked at her but she just hoped he would not notice that. “Liv! Where are you?”, Oscar’s voice interrupted the two as he walked up to them. “I am here, Osc.”, the girl told her brother who looked his teammate up and down, trying to see what he was planning. “We are supposed to eat together, remember?”, he told his sister who nodded. Saying goodbye to the brit the twins left.

“How is your sugar? You seem a bit sweaty.”, Oscar asked his sister as soon as they were out of hearing from Lando. “I am fine. A bit high but I am going to correct once we are in the car.”, Olivia told her brother after scanning the small sensor that was hidden by her papaya shirt, with her phone. “How high?”, “232 mg/dL. But like I said I am going to correct it as soon as we are in the car.”, she told her brother but he was not satisfied. “That is pretty high. Why did you not correct it earlier?”, “Osc, my pump broke and I have to correct manually so I had not the time to do so. I am fine, stop worrying.”, the girl told her older brother by twenty minutes. Grumbling something Oscar accepted the answer and lead his sister out of the paddock. He had tried to get her to tell the team about her diabetes but the girl refused. She hated it when people asked her questions about it or treated her different. She also did not want to appear weak, as it was hard enough for a girl in this industry. Being disabled would not help to be taken as serious as a man, so she kept it to herself. It worked out well for now. No one knew, aside form Oscar of course.

As the race in Imola was cancelled due to flooding did McLaren call every one into the factory to try and solve the problems from Miami. The engineers worked their asses off to try and find solutions. Olivia was there the entire time, helping the engineers and learning from their work. They worked for hours on end when Olivia forgot to check up on her sugar levels. She already knew she was low. The fogginess in her brain and the feeling of being dizzy told her that she was in fact very low. But she could not go right now. They were going over the data with Lando and Zack right now. She tried to listen to what everyone was saying when her vision got cloudy. Right as she wanted to say something to Lando did her speech give up. “Lan…”, was all she got out before passing out. Panicked the brit caught her before she could hit her head on the floor. “What the fuck?”, Zack asked and ordered someone to get Oscar as well as calling an ambulance. Laying her down Lando kept her head in his lap, trying to wake her up. “Did she say anything about being not well?”, Zack asked the engineers she had been following. “No, everything was fine. She seemed tired but we all are so we thought nothing about it. Plus you know how quiet she is.”, one told Zack who nodded. Not long after did a panicked Oscar ran into the room. “What happened?”, he asked and kneeled down next to his sister and Lando. “She just passed out.”, Lando told his teammate, nodding Oscar asked, “Where is her phone?”. Looking around Zack found it on the table behind them. Handing it to Oscar, everyone watched the Aussi as he unlocked it and held it against her arm. A beep appeared before Oscar cursed. “What is going on, Oscar?”, Lando asked, worried about the girl he was holding onto his lap. “My sister is diabetic. Her blood sugar dropped very low, that’s why she is passed out.”, Oscar explained and Lando as well as everyone else was quite shocked to learn this. “Why has she not said a word about it?”, Zack asked the Aussi right as the paramedics walked in. “She wants to be taken seriously and worried that she would not be seen as serious if anyone knew about this.”, he explained and then explained to the paramedics what was going on. They gave her an emergency glucose shot and checked her sugars while waiting for the glucose to work. After about fifteen long minutes did Olivia regain her consciousness. “It is okay. Everything is fine.”, Oscar told his sister as she was still disorientated and unable to form words. Together with Oscar did the paramedics took her to the nearest hospital to monitor her and make sure she does not drop this low again. Lando followed them close behind as he could not stop worrying about the girl. “You like her.”, Zack noticed as his young driver was about to get into his car. “Who?”, “Olivia, you like her.”, Zack repeated. Looking at his boss the brit was unsure what to say. “Go and see her. OH, and Lando, tell her.”, Zack laughed before returning into the factory.

Oscar was not surprised to see Lando walking into his sister’s hospital room. She was asleep and stable right now. Her sugar level slowly getting higher. “How is she doing?”, Lando carefully asked. “She is doing fine. Her sugar is getting higher. Come sit down, she should wake up in a bit.”, Oscar said and patted the chair next to his. “I still don’t understand how this happened.”, Lando admitted, blaming himself for not noticing anything. “She most likely forgot to eat anything while working as well as checking her levels. So she slowly got lower and lower.”, Oscar explained, knowing how focused his sister could get. The two were living together as they went together to boarding school and then also moved together after. “And how did she not notice anything earlier or someone else?”, “She can get very low and still function some times, so it is very hard to tell from the outside. Especially if you don’t know. She most likely knew that she was low but thought she could make it a bit longer.”, “How low was she?”, Lando asked, curious. He did not knew a lot about diabetes but wanted to learn as much as he could. Thinking Oscar said, “Under fifty for sure. Her sensor just said low so it had to be below that. I would guess around 30. Maybe a little lower or higher.”.

After what felt like an eternity for Lando, did Olivia woke up. “Where am I?”, she groaned and sat up a little, now noticing the brunette sitting next to her brother. “In the hospital. You passed out from being low. Again.”, Oscar kind of scolded her, but the truth was that he was always worried about her and her wellbeing. Nodding the young girl tried to remember what happened exactly. “Please tell me I did not pass out in front of Zack and all engineers? Please, Osc.”, she whined, remembering where she was and what she had been doing as she passed out. “I am sorry but you did. I am going to get you some food and a nurse.”, he claimed and left his teammate and sister alone to talk. “You freaked me out, Pastry.”, Lando stated, making the girl blush. “I am sorry. I did not plan this.”, she mumbled, feeling a lot more shy as she was alone with Lando. “I think you also freaked out everyone else. But how are you feeling?”, Lando said and sat down next to her, where Oscar used to sit. “I am better. I should have taken care of my sugar level earlier. It is embarrassing to end up in the hospital because of this. Even more passing out in front of my boss. Do you think Zack will fire me?”, she now panicked. Chuckling at her panic Lando took her hand in his and calmed her down, “Zack wont fire you. No one is going to take you less serious now. Everything is good, love.”. Heat rushed into her cheeks as she heard that nickname. “Thank you, Lando.”, she whispered and looked at him. His eyes were beautiful as well as the little smirk he wore on his lips. “Do you like what you see, love?”, Lando teased her, leaning closer. As she turned her head to avoid his piercing look did his warm, big hand cup her cheek. Turning her head to him. Tension grew as they both slowly leaned into each other. Like magnets. Lando did the last step and closed the gap between them. Connecting their lips in a kiss. Slow at first to give her the chance to back out. To his surprise did she not back out but instead grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand was in her hair by now, holding her close to him. “What the actual fuck!?”, someone yelled, making the two jump apart. Lando almost fell off the chair as he turned to the door. There stood Oscar. A tray with food in his hand and a giggling nurse behind him. “Osc…I…we…”, Olivia stuttered completely flustered. Lando on the other hand tried his best not to giggle. The girl he had the biggest crush on just kissed him back so his ego was a little blown up. “I think I need to bleach my eyes out.”, Oscar stated dramatically as he put down the food next to his sister on the table. To everyone’s luck did the nurse intertwine, “Miss Piastri how are you feeling? I assume better?”, “Yeah…I feel better.”, Olivia said and bit her lip to try not to blush even more. “I am glad to hear this. We are going to check your sugar level one last time before we let you go.”, the nurse said and tested the sugar level one more time. It was almost completely back to normal. “Okay, we are going to keep you for about an other hour and then you are free to go home.”, the nurse said and left the three alone.

The hour was the longest in Olivia’s life. To say that it was awkward to sit in the room with your crush, who just kissed you and your brother who walked into said kiss when they were teammates was not the most fun. In hopes of help did she even text her mother. But due to the time difference did she not answer her. “Can we please address this? Or I am dropping again due to anxiety.”, Olivia finally said. Both boys looked at each other before looking at her. “Do you have serious intentions with my sister?”, Oscar asked Lando. It was not what Olivia had expected Oscar to say but it was a start. “I do. I really like her.”, Lando told him, in a tone Olivia did not knew from him. it was very serious and not a hint of sassiness in it. letting out a very long and overly dramatic sigh did Oscar say, “Fine. I will not say anything against this if my sister really likes you, what I think as she kissed you, but the moment you hurt her will I push you into the wall with my car. Now if you excuse me. I still need to bleach my eyes.”. With a kiss on the forehead did Oscar left Olivia alone with Lando. “So we both like each other. How about I take you out on a date? We can go out as soon as you are free to go.”, Lando said excited. Smiling a little Olivia took his hand telling him, “I would love to go on a date with you but I think I don’t have the energy to go out right now. How about we stay in and maybe watch a movie or something like that? Or game?”, “You game?”, Lando asked surprised. Feeling a little shy again she admitted, “A little but not on stream or anything.”.

Part 2

#formula 1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #f1 x own character #f1 fiction #f1 #f1 x oc

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pro-crastinate17 · 8 months

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hello!! so im going to try to make a disability inclusive picrew and id like some help making sure i include as much as i can!

the person would be seated and pretty much all of the body would be visible. ill post it when im done!

its mostly focused on phys disabilities, bc i so rarely can find picrews w good diverse mobility aid options, but ofc im including non phys disabilities as well! (sorry for clunky phrasing, im unclear on the preferred term for non phys disabilities so thats the term ive been using)

what i have so far is below the read more. be warned it is a very long list! (every option/category of option i could think of)

if you think i missed something, please recommend it!!! (related note: id much rather get recommended something that is already on the list than miss something!)

category: head

various jaw shapes

missing jaw

crooked/misaligned jaw

category: skin

wide range of skin tones, including white/extremely pale (albino)

freckles, lots of scar variation (including burns), vitiligo, acne, facial hair, eye bags, other skin conditions (trying to make a list)

breathing tubes, masks, bandages

bindis

category: eyes

blue, grey, green, hazel, medium brown, dark brown, black, red

heterochromia options

lazy eye options

clouded eye options

closed eyes that look like winking and closed eyes that don't

missing eyes

category: mouth

general expressions

variations for color

variations for cleft lip, scars, facial paralysis

category: ears

ear size, shape, missing ears, deformed ears

category: eye/ear accessories

earrings, earplugs, hearing aids, bone anchored hearing aids, headphones, earmuffs (modifications for missing/deformed ears), cochlear implant

glasses, sunglasses, blue light glasses, eye patches, eye masks/bandages

category: nose

various shapes & sizes, bumpy noses, deformed noses

category: eyebrows

lots of expression options, thickness options, color options (including white)

one missing, scarring, eyebrow slits

category: body

body types: very skinny, skinny, fat, very fat (options for muscularity too if i can figure out how)

body hair, scarring, freckles, tattoos

range of missing limbs, deformed limbs, prosthetics

diabetes patch

category: hair

wide range of hairstyles, bangs, and colors

patchy hair, scalp scarring, receding hairline

category: head coverings

range of hats, hair accessories, headbands, bandanas

range of hijabs, turbans, kippot (+ more variation in cultural headwear if theres space)

head bandages

category: clothes

range of styles and colors

adaptable to body types (+ breasts), missing/deformed limbs

category: shoes

range of styles

adaptable to body types, missing foot/feet

category: hand accessories

gloves, bracelets, rings, nails, wrist braces, splint rings

range of types, adaptable to missing/deformed hands

category: pins

range of queer pride flags

pronoun pins

animals, fandoms/characters (def muppets, feel free to recommend characters and i'll try to include some of the most popular ones)

general disability pride, cripplepunk, madpunk, sign union flag, & pin (for systems), specific disabilities (need some help with these, send me specific flags and i’ll include them!)

category: seat

chair, manual wheelchair, power chair, spinny chair, throne, rollator, electric scooter

category: mobility aids

cane, white cane, crutches (underarm/axillary and forearm), rollator, walker (with and without wheels), electric scooter

joint braces (shoulder, elbow, knee, ankle, back, others?), joint tape, compression garments

category: other disability aids

AAC tablets, word cards, glucose monitor, sunflower lanyard, inhaler, medical id bracelet

stoma bag, central line catheter, picc line catheter, heart monitor, breathing tube, feeding tube (nasal and abdominal), tracheostomy

stim toys/chewelry, stuffed animals, phone

service animals

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gazagfmboost · 24 days

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Jbreel Farroukh- elderly diabetic woman

Vetting: Social media content going back to 2018, many highlights with others, mom & at work. instagram: Jbreel.f98 & fardousfarroukh & emjbreelfarroukh & company IG toptech

You can see how much love Jbreel has for his mother in all of his content with her, multiple members of the family reached out hoping for help with sharing their story. He is an ambitious young man who lost his company but has hope to save his diabetic mother & to help his sister escape to finish her pharmacy degree. UPDATE - GFM Froze their gofundme, & they're starting over from scratch! I hope that you will please consider helping them inch back towards their goal with any tiny donation to the updated fund or by giving a heart or sharing their story-

I appreciate you helping their family to feel seen & heard during these terrible times!

* UPDATED Fundraiser link- Help Jbreel and his family to evacuate from Gaza gofund.me/a8ffe422

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isatforpalestine · 2 months

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In Stars and Time for Palestine

Requests: Open! | Goal: $400/750

(To sign up to volunteer, please fill out this form or DM this account/@siffrin-enthusiast! Whichever is easiest for you!)

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!

Rules

We ask that receipts/proof of purchase be included with the request to help keep track of things.

To sign up as a volunteer, please fill out this form or DM this account and or @siffrin-enthusiast! Whatever works for you!

You will receive confirmation that your request has been received and when work has started.

You can ask for updates on your request, but please remember that artists are human and have busy lives.

Shipping requests and requests for multiple characters or specific poses are allowed, but may be less detailed and take longer than asking for a single character.

NSFW and gore requests are not allowed.

If an artist asks for credit, you must give credit.

Please do not send donation requests in our asks as unfortunately this is a common way to scam donations.

Charities

Donations can be made to any of the following reputable charities:

Palestinian GoFundMe Masterpost, regularly updated

Palestinian Evacuation Fundraiser Masterpost, regularly updated

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Care For Gaza

eSims For Gaza

Diabetics in Palestine

Medical Aid for Palestinians

UNICEF

Doctors Without Borders

Due to GoFundMe's giving money to Palestinians directly and immediately, donations to them are highly encouraged and requests made through GoFundMe donations will be given preferential treatment (assigned and completed first). Donations to charities are still of course open, encouraged, and accepted, but if possible please consider donating to a GoFundMe!

Prices

Prices have not been set in stone yet, as I'm waiting on feedback and sign-ups from other artists, but they're around here!

$1-9 = Sketch/doodle.

$10-14 = Lineart, uncolored.

$15-20 = Colored sketch.

$21-30 = Flat shading.

$31-44 = Detailed shading.

$45-59 = Rendering and a simple background free of charge.

$60+ = Rendering and a colorful background free of charge.

$99+ = Collab piece with multiple artists with the artist selection free of charge.

Additions to add on to the original price (unless it's included in the price, i.e., if you spent $45-59 you would not have to pay for a simple background). Please note that these will almost always increase the time it takes for your request to be completed.

$5 for a simple background.

$5 for another character sketch or uncolored lineart.

$10 for a detailed background.

$10 for very complex poses.

$15 for another character in flat shading or colored sketches, with $10 each for any additional characters.

$20 to select the artist of your request. Note that if they're busy with other requests, this will take longer than letting us choose.

$25 for another character in detailed shading and above, with $20 each for any additional characters.

$30 for another character with rendering, with $25 each for any additional characters.

Artists

Meet our volunteer artists!!

@outeremissary can make doodles, uncolored linearts and colored sketches!

@pied-piper-pluto can do everything on the list, from doodles to rendering with complex poses, multiple characters, and colorful backgrounds! he can do digital or traditional medium, or watercolor for large donations!

@siffrin-enthusiast can draw sketches, doodles, flat/detailed shading or take other requests/make edits, but doesn't know how to render. i'll give it an honest shot if you want though!

@moopermoment can do everything except detailed shading, rendering, and complex poses!

@kadethecat does sketches to flat shading and enjoys collab pieces!

@benjibots can do sketches as well as flat shading!

@kensiesss who can do anything except for complex poses!

@forgetful-storyteller can make anything from sketches to rendering with a simple background, but might take a bit to finish complicated pieces due to a busy schedule!

@tekabecca114 can do b/w comic panel style images!

@agriocnemis does everything on the list!!

@novelist-on-strike can make simple custom logos/graphics!

@mnemonicmew does everything except for collab pieces and colorful rendered backgrounds!

(To sign up to volunteer, please fill out this form or DM this account/@siffrin-enthusiast!)

Transparency

We do not handle any of the money donated to ensure that 100% goes to Palestine as soon as it physically can. Please blur out any and all personal information in your screenshots while submitting your receipts.

#free palestine #in stars and time #in stars and time for palestine #isat

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beatrice-otter · 7 months

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The Other Half of the Social Model of Disability

Lots of people in fandom are aware of the Social Model of Disability, which is a direct contrast to the Medical Model of Disability. Problem is, most of those people only understand half of the Social Model.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, the "in a nutshell" version is that the medical model views disability as something that is broken and which needs to be fixed, and little or no consideration is given beyond trying to cure it (and little or no consideration is given to the needs and wishes of the person who has it). The social model of disability, on the other hand, says that the thing that disables a person is the way society treats them. So, for example, if someone is paralyzed and can't walk, what disables them from going places is buildings that are not wheelchair accessible. (Or possibly not being able to afford the right type of wheelchair.) Inaccessible spaces and support equipment you can't afford are choices society makes, not a problem with the disabled person.

People then take this to mean that the only problem with disability is the society that surrounds it, and therefore in some utopian future where capitalism is no more and neither is ableism or any other form of bigotry, all problems disabled people have will be solved.

Except that what I've just described is not actually what the social model of disability says. Or, rather, it's only half of what the social model of disability says.

The actual social model of disability begins with a distinction between impairments and disabilities. Impairments are parts of the body/brain that are nonstandard: for example, ears that do not hear (deafness), organs that don't work right (e.g. diabetes), limbs that don't work (paralysis), brain chemistry that causes distress (e.g. anxiety, depression), the list goes on. The impairment may or may not cause distress to the person who has it, depending on the type of impairment (how much pain it causes, etc.) and whether it's a lifelong thing they accept as part of themselves or something newly acquired that radically changes their life and prevents them from doing things they want to do.

And then you have the things that disable us, which are the social factors like "is there an accessible entrance," as described above.

If we ever do get a utopian world where everyone with a disability gets the support they need and all of society is designed to include people with disabilities, that doesn't mean the impairments go away. Life would be so much better for people with impairments, and it's worth working towards, but some impairments simply suck and would continue to suck no matter what.

Take my autism. A world where autism was accepted and supported would make my life so much easier ... and yet even then, my trouble sleeping and my tendency to hyperfixate on things that trigger my anxiety would still make my life worse. I don't want to be cured of my autism! That would change who I am on a fundamental level, and I like myself. My dream is not of a world where I am not autistic, but a world in which I am not penalized for being autistic and have the help I need. And even in that world, my autism will still sometimes cause me distress.

There are some impairments--conditions that come with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, etc.--where pretty much everyone with that impairment agrees that the ultimate goal is a cure. But nobody knows how long a cure will take to find (years? decades? centuries?), whereas focusing on the social things disabling you can lead to improvement in your daily life right now.

In conclusion: the social model of disability is very valuable, and much superior to the medical model on a number of levels. But: please don't forget that the social model makes a distinction between disability and impairments, and even if we reach every goal and get rid of all the social factors that disable people, some impairments will be fine and cause no distress to the people who have them, some will be a mixed bag, and some will still be major problems for the people who have them.

Also on Dreamwidth

#disability #social model of disability #actually autistic

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milaisreading · 5 months

Note

Sae acts cold, arrogant, and egoistic but when the reader is around him he turns into a soft and gentle simp for her.

🌱🩷: Someone asked me to do a one shot of that one post I made abt Sae simping for Isagi's sister. So I might as well write it like this! Hope u like it!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Sis, can we get these? Mom won't mind, right?" Yoichi wondered, pointing at the box of chocolate that he was holding. (Y/n) looked away from the list Iyo gave her earlier and at the item her brother was holding.

"Hmm I don't know. Didn't you have enough sweets already?"

"Please. I didn't indulge in them for months. Blue Lock is torture." Yoichi pleaded with her for a good minute until (Y/n) ended up sighing and nodding her head.

"Fine. Put it in." She said, showing him the basket.

"Thanks, sis. You are the best!" Yoichi cheered, causing (Y/n) to blush a little.

"Ahh~ me? No, I am not. Don't flatter me too much." She laughed a little, not noticing someone looking at them.

"Ah... You two are here?" (Y/n) and Yoichi jumped in surprise and turned to look at the familiar figure.

"Sae-san? What are you doing here?" (Y/n) wondered as Yoichi raised an eyebrow at that as well.

"Mom wanted us to visit some family friends here in Saitama. I just grew bored of her picking what to buy as a present." Sae shrugged, causing (Y/n) to laugh a little.

"Ah~ it's not easy to pick gifts."

"Wait, is Rin here, too?" Yoichi raised an eyebrow, earning a nod from Sae.

"Yeah. A few isles down." He pointed and Yoichi took off there. The two older siblings stayed rooted to their spots, blinking at each other for a moment.

"So... You are back from Spain." (Y/n) said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Obviously."

"Hahaha..." The girl laughed nervously at his harsh tone.

"Oh! Looks! Uhm... beans... my mom wanted some..." (Y/n) said as she noticed the cans and went to pick up a few, which wasn'tthe best idea as they were high up and she hhad to tip toe. Sae stared at her back silently.

'Why is he so cold? And what am I going to do with beans?!' She thought while sweating.

'So adorable.' He thought. He was interrupted by a sudden crash being heard to his left.

"What..." He muttered and looked back, only to find that some guy had tripped and the things he was holding fell on the ground.

'Such an idiot. How can one be so stupid to trip on nothing? Losers all around-'

"Ow!" Sae turned to look back at (Y/n), who had fallen on the ground with a can of beans next to her. The boy's heart stopped beating for a moment as he noticed her frown.

'So adorable! She is so cute.' Sae felt his cheeks dust a bright pink as he observed her face.

'That frown... literally could give anyone diabetes.' Sae thought when a boy around their age approached her, extending his hand out in the process

"Miss, are you alright? Let me help you up-"

Before the guy could finish, Sae was already there, hand grabbing onto (Y/n)'s.

"I will help you. Mind your business." The boy looked at Sae and flinched as he noticed the glare.

"S-sorry."He said back as he quickly backed away.

"That was so weird." (Y/n) muttered.

"Yeah, weird." Sae said, going back to his usual stoic face as (Y/n) got up.

"Thank you,Sae-san. Sorry for embarrassing you like this-"

"You didn't. Accidents happen." The words and much softer tone from Sae startled (Y/n) a little.

"Uh... are you sure?" She asked nervously.

"Of course. Come on now. We need to look for our brothers." Sae hummed as he dragged her away.

'Her hands are so soft.' Sae thought as he looked down at the hand he was holding.

'Why is he glaring at my hand?!' She gulped in fear.

A week later...

'This is so awkward....' (Y/n) thought as she looked out of the window, trying to distract herself by looking at the snow falling. Now, why would she be distracting herself? Easy answer! Sae Itoshi was sitting right across from her, staring/glaring into her soul.

'Oh! He is probably mad that Yoichi still didn't agree on joining Re Al! Ahhh, poor me!' She cried inwardly.

'Ahh~ she looks even cuter today! (F/c) definitely suits her! My adorable angel! How can someone so clumsy be so graceful?' Sae put his had over his chest. Heartbeat on an all time increase.

"Here you go, sir, miss. Ice tea and hot chocolate. Enjoy." A waitress said, putting down the beverages.

"Ah! Thank you." (Y/n) smiled at the woman as Sae nodded his head.

'That smile! Nobody compares to it-'

"Ouch!"

"Are you alright?" Sae turned to the couple sitting to his right,curious as to what happened.

"Yeah, it's just that I burned my tongue on the coffee. I wasn't aware how hot it was." The man answered, clearly embarrassing by it.

'Can't these people think for themselves?! It's coffee! A hot beverage, of course it will be hot-'

"Aww, hot hot hot." (Y/n) silently chanted, putting her hot chocolate away. Sae, alarmed, turned to look at her.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah... I just burned my tongue on my hot chocolate." She laughed a little with a flushed face. Sae blinked at her for a moment.

'Ahh! Her cheeks look so adorable! It's alright, (Y/n). Let me help you! She is so cute, I could never be mad at her. It's the hot chocolate's fault anyways. Why was it so hot?' Sae glared at the beverage as he handed her his ice tea.

"Take a little bit of it. The cold will help your tongue."

(Y/n) blinked at it for a minute.

"But it's yours-"

"I don't care, drink it." Sae demanded.

"Ok." She said back, taking the cup and taking a few sips.

'You will be dealt with.' The pro-player thought, glaring at the abandoned hot chocolate.

"So... today's meet up wasn't about Yoichi?" (Y/n) wondered as both her and Sae walked down the street. The boy nodded for what felt like the 10th time. Usually, he would feel annoyed if he had to repeat himself, but that wasn't the case here.

'It's my fault, I should have been more clearer with my answers.' He thought, even if he said 9 times a clear 'no.'

"Oh... Then why did you invite me-" The girl cut herself off as she slipped on the ice. Closing her eyes, she was prepared to hit the ground, but instead felt two arms wrap themselves around her.

"Whew! That was close, are you hurt?" Sae thought, feeling his anxiety spike a little. Opening her eyes, (Y/n) looked up at him and shook her head.

"N-no, I am fine. Don't worry."

Sae nodded his head, keeping his arms still wrapped around her as they stood there in silence for a moment.

"Y-you can let go of me now." The girl said in embarrassment, and Sae was about to agree when something hit him.

'What if she slips again and falls for real?! What if someone pushes her to the ground?! What if she hits herself?! No! I can't let that happen!' The boy nodded to himself.

"What are you doing?!" (Y/n) exclaimed as Sae lifted her up into his arms as started carrying her.

"Just making sure."

"S-sure?! For what? S-Sae-san, this is embarrassing." (Y/n) said as her face turned a dark red.

'So adorable!!' Sae thought, ignoring the confused stares of the people around them.

'She is so soft~' He sighed, looking down at her dreamily.

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