#'' to dyslexic to tell the difference''

[floydsteeth]

My friend just told me to get left and right tattooed on their respective arms because i cant tell them apart

That's bullshit i can tell them apart

Hey thats kinda rude

Why the fuck would i get that tattooed of all things

[dostarsfallatall]

Oh creature(Adam in the og) from the hit comic glass scientists whom shouldn’t be attractive but i find incredibly attractive anyway and have a concerning amount of pictures+album of save me

-I wanna kiss him is that so wrong of me 😔

-This goes for almost all versions of him too btw just not the ones who get his character totally wrong in design and personality like making him a mindless fool

[olasketches]

when english is not your native language + you’re dyslexic af = double homocide

[munsonfamilyband]

Part 5 of Different Meeting AU

This part is going to be very sappy, enjoy! The boys do imply a little bit more about their sex life so TW for this part: implied sexual content, discussion of torture, mentions of character death

--------

After Steve left the trailer park, he strapped the new bag of Eddie's things to his bike with the food, grabbed his backpack and started biking toward the lake. To stay out of sight he followed the train tracks, then split off from the woods when he reached Holland road. He pulled up to the house and hid his bike around the back, hurrying over to the boat house.

Steve carefully opened the door, peeking his head inside. "Eddie? I'm back, where are you?" At that, Eddie threw the tarp off and nearly ran to pull Steve into a hug. Steve could feel the anxiety thrumming off of Eddie like a physical thing and just held him tighter for a moment before finally pulling back to look him in the eyes. Eddie gave him a small smile, eyes still tight.

"Hey, did you get snacks?"

"Yeah, I grabbed you some clothes too. Went to see the guys, let them know what happened. I saw Wayne too, he was smart enough to hide anything illegal or incriminating before he called the cops this morning, so I have all of your drugs and my clothes from your place. He did leave the handcuffs and condoms though, probably figured they didn’t scream Homosexual too much." Steve quickly spoke up when he saw the almost feral grin on Eddie's face, "and I am glad he did, we do not need to be getting carried away while hiding from the cops." Eddie's grin dropped, practically pouting.

"Not even a little carried away? It’s not like we ever really use the condoms anymore."

"Eddie, we had sex like two days ago. And we don’t exactly have the ability to clean up around here.”

"Tell me about it, that's two whole days." Steve just rolled his eyes, ignoring the warmth he always feels in his chest whenever Eddie shows how much he wants him.

"C'mon, horndog, let's go into the house. We never cleaned up our picnic last weekend so all the blankets and pillows are still out. I brought our book too, so you can read to me tonight." Steve held out his hand, Eddie grabbing it quickly and pressing a kiss to the back of it as the head toward Steve's bike. They grab the bags and head into the house, setting them down on the kitchen table. "The food is in the duffle bag, can you put it away while I talk to Robin and let her know I'm back? I promised I would walkie to tell her." Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to Steve's shoulder as he passed him to go put the food away.

Steve dug his walkie out of his backpack and tuned into the right channel. "Robin, are you there?"

"Steve! Did you get back to the lake okay?"

"Yeah, I just got back. I stopped by the trailer on the way here and saw Wayne, he had all my stuff packed up from the trailer, along with any incriminating items." Robin snorted through the walkie talkie.

"So he found all of Eddie's drugs and sex toys?"

"No!" Steve paused as he blushed. “We don’t leave that stuff at the trailer.” He only blushed more when Robin’s laugh came through the walkie.

“But he found all the drugs?”

"Shut up, Robs. Yes, Wayne found all of Eddie’s drugs. I just wanted to let you know I got back safe. Now can I get back to my boyfriend?”

"Good. Also, you're welcome, by the way. I managed to keep Dustin from outing you, I figured you would want to tell Nancy yourself." Steve sighed softly, so unbelievably grateful for his best friend.

"Thank you, Robbie. I'll have to find a time to tell he when we all meet up to plan, hopefully soon."

"Yeah, Nance actually was at the trailer park earlier. She said she had gone to investigate and ran into Eddie's uncle, he said something about Victor Creel? She said he was like a crazy murder from the 50s so I think we're planning on going to the library tomorrow to do some research."

"Alright, keep me posted on whatever you learn. I'm starving and I know Eddie must be too, so I'm going to go make us some food. Stay safe, Rob, over and out." Steve listened to her quick goodbye and pushed down the antenna of the walkie, setting it on the table before heading into the kitchen. "You hungry? I know I am." Eddie was sitting on the counter, flipping a butter knife in an attempt to look cool.

"I'm always hungry, and I have definitely missed your food this week." Steve smiled at him and got out the ingredients for quick goulash, knowing it was one of Eddie's favorites.

"I meant to tell you, Wayne wanted me to let you know that he never thought you were guilty." Glancing over at Eddie, Steve could see his shoulders visibly relax. Clearly, that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, he knew you would be worried about him thinking you were like your dad, and he wanted you to know that he never did."

"I love that old man." Steve laughed, leaning his hip against Eddie's knee where he was still sitting on the counter.

"He loves you too." Steve cooked quickly, getting their food together so they could move into the living room to eat. Once their food was in bowl, he and Eddie went into the living room, sitting down on the blankets they left there.

After a few minutes of eating quietly, with only the sounds of the silverware and Eddie’s knee bouncing to fill the silence, Eddie finally spoke up. “So…. Tortured by Russians?” Steve sighed, setting his mostly empty bowl down on the floor. Without commenting first, Steve turned and grabbed the bag with his items in it, pulling it closer. He dig through the front zipper pouch and pulled out a small square box, opened it and pulled out a small blue piece of plastic that he carefully wrapped around his left ear. Steve saw the realization on Eddie’s face when he looked up, Eddie reaching a hand out to gently touch his left ear. “Sugar, why didn’t you say something?”

“I was scared, mostly. With the kids... I'm the one who keeps them safe, I didn't want to give them a reason to think I couldn't do that anymore." Steve looked at his hands as he spoke but was forced to look up when Eddie cupped both of his cheeks in his hands.

"Stevie, they are always going to need you around, it is okay to need help sometimes. So, from now on, you are going to promise that you will wear that hearing aid, understand?" Steve stared at Eddie for a moment before he nodded, placing his hands over Eddie's and just keeping him there. The moment was broken when a sharp pain radiated from behind Steve's left eye and he gasped, dropping Eddie's hands to push his palm into the eye socket in an attempt to stop the pain. "Migraine?"

"Fuck, yeah. Of course I didn't bring my good meds with me, shit it's bad." Steve squeezed his eyes shut to keep out the lights and he heard Eddie stand and walk away. Distantly Steve heard the stairs creak then footsteps on the second floor, before the stairs creaked again and Eddie was sitting in front of him once more.

"These aren't your good ones but I figured some motrin is as good as we can get right now. Here, give me your hand and I'll give you the pills." Keeping his eyes shut, Steve put out one of his hands and felt three pills be placed into it. After he popped them into his mouth, Eddie grabbed his hand and placed a glass of water in it so he could swallow the pills. "Good. Did something set it off? Normally you have a trigger."

"Well I would say I'm pretty stressed today so that would explain it." Eddie huffed a quiet laugh.

"Alright, that's fair. Let's lay down for a bit and once you're feeling a bit better we can keep talking." Steve let himself be guided to laying down and he curled himself against Eddie, using his chest to block out the light. Once the medicine kicked in Steve was able to shift backwards enough to look up at Eddie who was looking right back at him. "Meds doing their job, honey?"

"Yeah, you still want to hear about last summer?" Eddie nodded and Steve sighed, closing a fist around Eddie's shirt and gripping it tight. "Alright, well we told you about how we found out that the Russian's had a base under the mall but we didn't explain how we got into it. We had to drag Erica in, which I still feel so guilty for because she was only 10, and she went through the vents to get into this storage room they had on the loading dock. She opened the doors for us and we all went inside to investigate but the doors shut behind us and locked. Next thing I know the room is dropping because it was actually an elevator. We got stuck in that elevator for hours before some guards came to collect stuff from the room and we got out of there only to have to walk for miles. I think Erica actually knows how far we traveled but I wasn't there when she did the math so I don't know how far it was."

"Wait, Erica just did the math for how long you guys traveled?"

"Yeah, Dustin said she did at least. That's why he calls her a nerd apparently. Anyway, we got to the center of the base and Erica spotted the comms room, I won a fight against a Russian guard and then we found the gate they were opening to the Upside Down. At that point, Dustin and I knew this was really really bad. Then the alarms went off and we all had to run. We got cornered in a supply closet and Rob and I held the door shut so the kids could get into the vents and escape."

"You didn't..."

"I did. I couldn't let them get ahold of Dustin and Erica and Rob wouldn't leave me behind so we got captured. I knew Robin would start talking if she had the chance because she was nervous so I decided... I decided I would just be louder and more annoying so she wouldn't be their main focus. It worked and we got taken to separate rooms where I-" Steve cut off, his throat closing up from the memories of what he experienced in that bunker. "I would rather not go into detail, but, uh, they kept asking who I worked for and I had nothing to say other than the truth which they didn't like. I got knocked out eventually and when I came to I was tied back to back with Robin in a different room. She was yelling about needing a doctor and she said that she thought I might have been dead because she couldn't see me breathing. I'm pretty sure that was the broken ribs though."

"Jesus H Christ, Stevie. They nearly beat you to death."

"After I came to they asked us more questions before deciding that the best thing to do next was to give us some truth serum or something. They grabbed these syringes full of blue stuff and stuck it right in our necks. That's why I'm so spooked by needles now."

"Shit, that- well, that explains so much. sweetheart. I cannot believe you went through that and are still willing to put yourself in more danger."

"Yeah, well, the kids would get involved no matter what, and you're involved now. There was no way I would leave you to deal with this alone. There, um. There is something else. I think now that you know everything, it’s probably a good time to mention it.” Steve tilted his head up so his chin was resting against Eddie’s sternum and felt Eddie push a hand under his shirt to rest against the small of his back, radiating heat and comfort.

“What’s up? I thought I knew everything at this point, do you have another head injury to tell me about?” Steve huffed out a laugh, he could tell Eddie was trying to lighten the mood for both of them. He was so glad that he didn’t have to hide things anymore, even if he was terrified about Eddie being involved in the Upside Down.

“So, uh, I’m pretty sure we mentioned how after Billy beat me up in ‘84 Hopper took me to the hospital, right?”

“Yeah, someone mentioned it.”

“Cool, um, the thing is that wasn’t just it. After-after the hospital figured out my parents weren’t coming, Hop stepped in as uh, he said in loco parentis, but basically he was acting as my parent since I was still 17. He ended up bringing me back to his cabin after they discharged me, the hospital didn’t want me to be alone since it was a grade 3 concussion and I had the cuts on my head from the plate.” He felt Eddie’s hand curl a little tighter around his waist at the mention of the head injury again and Steve pressed a kiss to Eddie’s chest. “I’m glad he stepped up, I didn’t have anyone else. But, after that, I don’t know how it happened, somehow I sort of got absorbed into their little family. El and I got really close and that’s why I’m close with Max, and Hop-“ Steve paused as his throat closed up, it had been so long since he had even talked about Hopper’s death and it still hurt. “He became the first real father figure I had ever had. But then, Starcourt happened and he-“ This time Eddie cut him off, pulling him close so Steve didn’t have to push himself to say it.

“I know, I saw the news. I’m so sorry, princess. I had no idea you were close to him.”

“It wasn’t a long time, just around 8 months but it was enough for me to get attached to both of them. And now-now he’s gone and El’s in California, which is the best place for her but it still hurts. It’s why I was so emotional about Wayne just… accepting me the way he did. Hop had just… it had only been a few weeks and Wayne was so much like him. He’s- Wayne has helped a lot with that healing, he and Hop would have gotten along really well, I think.”

Eddie paused, just holding Steve close and rubbing his back gently. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” He hummed gently before shifting them around so he was pressed up against Steve’s back. “Wayne really loves you. Sometimes I think he loves you more than me.” Steve just laughed, holding Eddie’s hands in his own. 

“No way, you’re his son, Eds. He does care though which I appreciate.”

They lapse into silence, just holding each other before Steve suddenly snorts a laugh.

“I don’t think Hop would have liked you very much.” Eddie pauses for a moment and then starts laughing. 

“Absolutely not, you’re totally right. I don’t think he would want a drug dealer hanging out with his kid. Much less dating that kid.”

“I saw how he was with Mike, and that was just because he thought Mike was annoying. I think you dodged a bullet, possibly literally.” Eddie just laughed and held Steve closer to him. "Eds?"

"Yeah?"

"How are you doing? With all of this stuff." He can hear and feel Eddie sigh against the back of his neck and Eddie squeezes Steve's hand.

"Honestly?... Shit, Stevie, I'm scared out of my mind. For me, for you, for Robbie, for those god damn kids. I was prepared to have a spring break full of alone time where we got laughably high and fucked on just about every surface in this house. Now? I'm potentially on the run for murder and there's an evil wizard from another dimension that can possess people and kill them without leaving any evidence. If you hadn't shown up in that boat house, I think I would have gone insane."

"Eddie, it's okay to be terrified, you know? The first time, hell, the second time too, that I did this I thought I was going crazy. I couldn't stand having the lights off and any time I saw a bulb flicker I jumped. Even last time, you know what I did to just be able to sleep. You're allowed to be scared. So you and I are just going to lean on each other and we can make it through this." Steve felt wetness on his neck and knew Eddie had been crying at some point, so he turned around to face him and he pressed a kiss to Eddie's nose. He was smiling but when they were able to see each other's faces Steve saw Eddie frown.

"Is your nose bleeding?" Eddie asked before Steve reached a hand up and wiped under his nose, finding blood on his fingers when he pulled them away.

"That hasn't happened in a while. Don't worry though, sometimes it happens with the headaches."

"Alright, if you're sure." Steve just curled back up against Eddie without further comment as Eddie's hand carded through his hair. "You want me to read a bit before we go to bed."

"Yes please." He felt Eddie twist to grab their book before a kiss was pressed to the top of his head and Eddie started to read.

-------------

And that's it for this part. I had the part about Hopper written days ago but I wasn't sure how to work it in until today. I'm obsessed with Accidental Parent Hopper who stumbles into being a father for two kids.

Also, there is a good bit of foreshadowing in this chapter, both from the show and some of my own

Taglist

@messrs-weasley @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @live-the-fangirl-life @nburkhardt @inmoonywetrust @henderdads @vlada-elya @grtwdsmwhr @spectrum-sceptre @madamonsieur-silvrene @abookisproofofmagic @knitsforthetrail @imzadidragonfly @blackholegladiator @maya-custodios-dionach @phantypurple @booksandsience @formacoon @gregre369 @beeing-stuupid @imsociallyanxiousgetoverit

[kierensjpnjourney]

langblr i need help againnn...

does anyone have any tips on memorizing particles (is that the word for them?) and telling the difference between them? specifically る,ろ, そ i am REALLY struggling to memorize those three because they look so similar to me ( ｉ﹏ｉ )

so if you have any ways youve memorized those three..... please tell me ;;

[goodold-fashioned-killerqueen]

.... grityn.. need more ... grityn... *die*

[obitv]

sorru i am in so much pain but i cant stop thinking about motherfucking KKOB. IT IS 2023.

[frogathy]

i cant tell if i like this guy or if im just enchanted by his incredibly large dyslexic adhd brain

[inclus-traumagenics]

I cannot get over how cruel it is to say you offer support for all traumagenic systems and then tell us to fuck off if we don't agree with you on discourse

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[machinedramon]

hirigana is going to be the death of me I need to practice writing these so I can actually attribute the sounds to the shape

[scarlettgauthor]

I first posted this in a thread over on BlueSky, but I decided to port (a slightly edited version of) it over here, too.

Entirely aside from the absurd and deeply incorrect idea [NaNoWriMo has posited] that machine-generated text and images are somehow "leveling the playing field" for marginalized groups, I think we need to interrogate the base assumption that acknowledging how people have different abilities is ableist/discriminatory. Everyone SHOULD have access to an equal playing field when it comes to housing, healthcare, the ability to exist in public spaces, participating in general public life, employment, etc.

That doesn't mean every person gets to achieve every dream no matter what.

I am 39 years old and I have scoliosis and genetically tight hamstrings, both of which deeply impact my mobility. I will never be a professional contortionist. If I found a robot made out of tentacles and made it do contortion and then demanded everyone call me a contortionist, I would be rightly laughed out of any contortion community. Also, to make it equivalent, the tentacle robot would be provided for "free" by a huge corporation based on stolen unpaid routines from actual contortionists, and using it would boil drinking water in the Southwest into nothingness every time I asked it to do anything, and the whole point would be to avoid paying actual contortionists.

If you cannot - fully CAN NOT - do something, even with accommodations, that does not make you worth less as a person, and it doesn't mean the accommodations shouldn't exist, but it does mean that maybe that thing is not for you.

But who CAN NOT do things are not who uses "AI." It's people who WILL NOT do things.

"AI art means disabled people can be artists who wouldn't be able to otherwise!" There are armless artists drawing with their feet. There are paralyzed artists drawing with their mouths, or with special tracking software that translates their eye movements into lines. There are deeply dyslexic authors writing via text-to-speech. There are deaf musicians. If you actually want to do a thing and care about doing the thing, you can almost always find a way to do the thing.

Telling a machine to do it for you isn't equalizing access for the marginalized. It's cheating. It's anti-labor. It makes it easier for corporations not to pay creative workers, AND THAT'S IS WHY THEY'RE PUSHING IT EVERYWHERE.

I can't wait for the bubble to burst on machine-generated everything, just like it did for NFTs. When it does some people are going to discover they didn't actually learn anything or develop any transferable skills or make anything they can be proud of.

I hope a few of those people pick up a pencil.

It's never too late to start creating. It's never too late to actually learn something. It's never too late to realize that the work is the point.

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to think a little about Blitz's self-perception with regard to his lack of education/sophistication. In my opinion, HB gives us a very accurate portrayal of what it feels like to navigate relationships when you're a person with a long history of feeling like you're never good enough ("I can always do better").

Let's start with his friendship with Moxxie, though like a lot of my posts, it will find its way back to stolitz.

Moxxie doesn't necessarily have more formal education than Blitz. I mean . . . he likely had the economic resources growing up, but I don't think Crimson seems like the kind of parent to prioritize education. Besides an education in violence. I assume that both Blitz and Moxxie had some basic education as kids, but the difference is that Moxxie likes "high culture(ish)" things like musicals and bow ties, enjoys knowing details about history, and probably reads for fun. He's also the kind of ". . . um actually . . ." friend who can make even a secure person feel a little stupid. Not that Blitz doesn't sometimes need to be called out, but Moxxie does seem to take some joy in correcting him.

And yes, Blitz bullies Moxx and calls his junk tiny and tells him to eat a salad, but like . . . it's pretty obvious that to some extent, Blitz is covering up for feeling inferior to Moxxie on some level.

We see how Blitz really feels about this in Truth Seekers.

Borrowed observation from excellent reaction youtuber Omn1media: When Blitz hallucinates Moxxie lecturing him, Moxxie goes really hard specifically on the insults to Blitz's intelligence. Moxxie's speech is also much more rambly/laced with figurative language than it is in their real (non-imagined) interactions.

We can see from Blitz's face in these scenes that these comments really get to him. Of course they do- he's making them up in his own nightmare.

"Foolish flights of fancy" is the rest of the caption there . . ."

He's very upset by the idea that he's really inferior to Moxxie- under all of the bravado, he's deeply insecure. It probably doesn't help that the truth gas made him admit that he didn't like the musical that Moxx recommended. Yes, I know that was a Cats joke, but also, Blitz bothered to lie, and he doesn't seem allergic to hurting Moxxie's feelings, so I think he wanted to pretend to "get" the "higher art" that Moxxie likes.

Okay so if Moxxie (with an essentially equivalent status and education) manages to unintentionally make Blitz feel stupid and uncultured, how does this translate when Blitz falls in love with Stolas, who IS objectively very high status and very well educated and DOES speak in "fancy rich people" language?

Oh. Right. The pedestal, the impossibility, and all of that.

I'm not saying that Hell's strict hierarchy doesn't have a lot to do with how Blitz perceives a real relationship between himself and Stolas as impossible- it absolutely does. And so does his history of failed relationships and heaping backpack of trauma. But also, the education/sophistication piece is there, and it's major.

I'm on the fence about whether Blitz actually sees himself as stupid or is just worried about being perceived that way by others. He obviously knows he's very good at the work he does, and that takes both a certain level of strategic thinking AND some very brilliant improvisation. I think he knows this. But he also knows he'll never . . . let's say, be the best read person in the room (if you want to know my thoughts on Blitz and literacy, click here- but short answer, I think he's quite literate but also dyslexic).

I think that like many real people who are kind of out of the box in this way (disrupted education and/or neurodivergence) he's simultaneously aware that he's very intelligent AND deeply insecure about being stupid or having others devalue his kind of intelligence.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras

Word Count - 3600

Author's Note - I 100 percent projected my own dysleixia hardcore into this. This was 100 percent written for the dyslexic girlies and learning disability girlies only. Also not me accidentally maybe becoming a Trevor girlie after writing this oh no. This one is by far my favorite segment.

Warnings - light angst but like it ends happy shocking for this page, who am I becoming???

Summary - In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Let me love you masterlist main masterlist

This isn’t something new to you, you’ve struggled your entire life with the fact that you're dyslexic. It’s a lot more complicated than people may recognize. Many people assume that it only comes up when you're trying to read something like a textbook or an article, and that when you’re finished with school it won’t really affect your daily life anymore but that’s far from the truth. In truth, being an adult with dyslexia affects you in little ways daily. From having difficulty knowing your left and right when given verbal directions, your spelling being terrible when texting others, mispronouncing certain words and being easily embarrassed when it gets pointed out, or worse sometimes the word is literally on the tip of your tongue you can even physically see in your brain but your mouth can’t form the proper sounds, how certain fonts you struggle to read vs others, or that black ink on white paper is the bane of your existence.  Although all of these are “little” things, it does impact the way you communicate with others. It does feel extremely frustrating sometimes feeling like people think that you're using your dyslexia as an “excuse” when in reality your brain is wired completely differently because of it. 

Since you first met Trevor and started talking to him, you had that fear you always do in the pit of your stomach, will he pick on you the first time that he truly can’t understand a text or the first time he hears you mispronounce a word despite years of speech therapy where you tried to but still you can’t pronounce correctly. Although, part of you knew that your fear was extremely irrational, part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that was until proven otherwise the jokester in Trevor would make a joke about something you truly couldn’t control. 

That is until today, when it happened it’s one of those rare days when you were driving and Trevor was in the passenger seat. His car was in the shop, and he needed a ride back from the arena to his apartment. Originally he was going to take an Uber but since you both already had plans after the morning skate you insisted on picking him up. 

“It’s easiest if you take this right up here to get back to my place.” He directs you without looking up from his phone,you tell him okay, turn on your left turn signal and get in the left lane. Trevor finally looks up from his phone while you're waiting at the red light for it to turn green to see you're in the wrong lane. 

“Sweetie?” asking in a questioning tone

“Hmmm” 

“This is the left lane. I told you to take a right.” Trevor says in a concerning tone as to how you were five traffic lanes away from where you needed to be. 

“sorry I thought you said ‘left’. I can make a u-turn?” Deciding in the moment you didn’t want to admit that you heard him correctly but processed the direction wrong, you offered as the traffic light finally turned green. 

“It’s alright we can just take the long way. Don’t worry about a u-turn.”  Not seeming to care at all that it will add an extra 10 minutes to the drive due to the mistake. 

As you continued driving you ended up making another wrong turn, Trevor put his left hand on your thigh and subconsiously rubbed small circles into skin to comfort your growing anxiety, he could feel this odd tension that was built up in the car. “Can you point please?” your voice barely over a whisper as you felt extremely embarrassed all of a sudden and started feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

“Yeah Y/N/N I can do that, we could also switch places. I can drive you the rest of the way if you need it if you're feeling anxious all of a sudden.” Trevor was being really sweet, trying to fix the problem at hand thinking it was just some anxious thoughts and not your brain processing audible information incorrectly. 

“No, pointing is good.” Forcing yourself to look straight ahead because you don’t want to accidentally catch his eyes as he looks at you with a worried look. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting way and drops the topic. The rest of the ride felt quick as he pointed and said the direction you needed to go until you reached his apartment. Finding a parking spot in the garage you parked your car, as soon as you felt your foot on the brake, and your right hand pulled the gear in park, you leaned back automatically and sighed grateful you were done driving. Trevor still had his hand on your thigh, he turned his neck so that his head was also resting on the headrest. 

Trevor patiently waited until you opened your eyes, turning to him with a soft smile. “You ready?” you ask him, as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. As you grab your purse from the back, your hand on the door handle. His hand that was on your thigh is gone and immediately pulls you by the wrist back into your seat. As he takes his other hand and gently places it on your cheek forcing you to look at him. 

“Can we talk about it?” His voice was steady, calm, confident but soft, almost as if he was scared of your reaction. 

Smiling a little wider now, in a split second you try to decide what you want to do. Do you want to tell a boy who you’ve only been casually talking to and hanging out with a handful of times - one of them being this current moment - about being dyslexic. Although it’s not that big of a deal in retrospect, it’s something that you can never take back once you said the words. Even though it’s something so simple and common no one ever looks at you the same again. Were you ready to tell Trevor, and see his face change permanently or did you want to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer. 

“I’m fine, it’s just when I drive somewhere new I like listening to the GPS and not a person telling me directions, it helps me focus better is all.” sheepishly you admit. 

Ignorant Bliss. That’s the choice you made. 

“Okay well next time, can you tell me that so I don’t have to watch you stress yourself out please?” His hand that was on your wrist, going down to your hand playing with your hand. Taking your hand that he was playing with, fully grasping his you squeeze his hand as a silent yes, and nod your head. He leans over the middle console and quickly peaks your lips as if it was a last minute impulse and he meant the cheek. “Thank you, let's go inside.” 

—-------------------------------

Living in ignorant bliss was great for a few weeks, until you started to actually like Trevor. Talking to a guy for a few months and it not going anywhere vs meeting someone and potentially seeing at least an exclusive relationship with them were two very different things. Knowing that you saw a relationship with him in the future meant it was only a matter of time before he found out that your dyslexic which again isn’t that big of a deal, but the fact that you also lied to him a few weeks ago. Not telling him is one thing, but lying when he asked why you were struggling to drive that day is a completely different act. 

Trying to put off the inevitable you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind. Somehow convincing yourself that if you didn’t think about it, then the problem would disappear he would never find out. I mean when you didn’t know how to spell a word while texting, you just spoke it into your phone. As far as grammar no one really had perfect grammar when texting including Trevor to be perfectly honest he probably didn’t even notice half the time. Plenty of people kept all their devices in dark mode for plenty of reasons, he had no reason to ask, although you did it because it helped your eyes stay focused on the words in front of you, not for the aesthetic. 

Even so, with all of these excuses as to why he wouldn’t notice you failed to remember that certain words you truly can’t pronounce the correct way no matter how hard you try. It all came crashing down tonight when you were at Trevor’s apartment cooking dinner for the both of you. Dinner was almost done at this point, when Trevor came behind you just now re-entering the kitchen after taking an expected call from his little sister. Trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on top of your shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” you ask your curiosity getting the best of you, even though you know it’s none of your business. 

“Yeah she’s fine.” Pressing a kiss into where your jawline and neck meet. “smells good.” He compliments your cooking as he teases you one more time with a small nip with his teeth where he just kissed you, before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. 

Answering shyly, you let out a “thank you.”

“Anything I can help with?” asking genuinely although you're not sure if it’s to be kind or if it’s because he’s hungry but either way you’ll take it. As he slowly unwraps himself from you, getting ready to help you in any way you need. 

Without looking up from the chicken that you're grilling on the stove, trying to concentrate on the task at hand you answer him. “Yeah actually can you grab out the mellk from the fridge for the mashed potatoes.” Not even thinking twice about what you just said until you heard a chuckle coming from across the kitchen. 

“What babe?” standing in front of a now open fridge, he could have sworn you tried to say milk but botched the word so badly, it couldn’t have possibly been.

“the mellk” finally noticing what you asked for, knowing this is one of the words people can’t help but point out how you butcher it. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, truly confused now that he heard it twice. 

“M - il - k “ you repeat slowing down your mouth trying to force yourself to pronounce it properly but also not speak too slowly. Hoping that it's noticeable as you force your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the “il” sound.  

A small chuckle leaves Trevor’s lips but it wasn’t a malicious way, it was as if he chuckled because he found it adorable. “Here's the milk baby.” walking back over to you and placing it on the empty counter space next to the bowl of steaming hot cooked potatoes. Taking the chicken off the hot burner you moved to the island to where the potatoes were. 

“Sorry” you mumble as he stands beside you, his hip resting on the side of the island. 

“For what?” His eyebrows frowned, his eyes focused the side of your face the only thing he could see. Focusing on the task at hand, you used the potato masher and mashed the potatoes. Opening the milk and adding a little along with some butter that you set out earlier. 

Feeling the rise of some anxiety in your stomach, hoping that you could procrastinate just a little longer on admitting that you didn’t tell him the whole truth. Deciding if now was the time or if you were gonna dig yourself in a bigger hole by wrapping yourself in a thicker web of tiny white lies. 

Finally turning your head to the side to face him and taking a deep breath. 

For good measure making one more deep breath before you barely utter the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “I lied.” 

Trevor’s face immediately changed from confusion and concern. In an instant it became shocking and almost hurt, that the girl he thought was actually going somewhere a month in, is admitting to lying to him. Not when he told her in the beginning that lying wasn’t something he tolerated after his ex lied to him for months and manipulated him. Not when he just told his little sister not even ten minutes ago on the phone that tonight he was gonna ask you to be his official girlfriend. “What are you talking about?” his voice cracking before he could even get the word out, quickly clearing his throat to cover up his own insecurities about the possible tension that could slowly be felt brewing in his kitchen. 

“Remember a few weeks, when I was driving you to your apartment from the stad-” 

“What the FUCK does that have to do with lying to me? When did you lie to me Y/N” Not only has Trevor never once raised his voice at you in a not joking way, but he’s never cursed at you, and his tone made you close your eyes and flinch at the impact. Immediately, seeing you flinch he sighed his hand going to lightly crease her arm closest to him. “When did you lie?” asking at a much softer tone than moments before. 

“I’m trying to explain.” Trevor could have sworn he felt his chest hurt when he heard you struggling to speak, as if you were trying to get yourself not to cry. “Please let me explain.” 

“Okay” he softly let out, as he squeezed your arm not sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself as he felt the possibility of you slipping through his fingers. 

“A few weeks ago when I drove you home.” finally turning her body fully turning to face him. “I lied, When you asked me what happened. I told you I need the GPS because I get overwhelmed.” Pausing to make sure that Trevor was following along, he nodded along, “I lied, sort of,” your voice picking up in speed with each word you uttered out  “I mean I do get overwhelmed while driving but it’s not because of that it’s not that I” 

“Baby please take a breath you're scaring me” His other arm is going to cup your cheek, even though he was mad before as he heard you fixated on driving him home a few weeks ago. He knew it couldn’t have possibly been any of the terrible ideas that popped into his head, at least Trevor hoped not.

 “I sometimes get my left and right confused.” Looking up trying to gauge his reaction, watching as one of his eyebrows go down, as if to say ‘that’s all.’ 

“Okay. So that was the lie? Everyone gets confused sometimes and makes mistakes baby it’s okay” His famous smile slowly takes over his face. 

“That’s the thing is it isn’t sometimes, it’s kind of a lot when I’m driving when someone is giving me directions without pointing, and there are other things too. I mean they're small but they still affect me almost daily and I just.” 

Deciding to take a breath because if you don’t you will be more likely to trip up your words or stutter. “I’m dyslexic and it’s not really how they describe the movies.” 

His smile dropped a little and you swear it felt as if your heart felt as if it had just dropped a hundred flights down the Empire State building. “Dyslexic. Like you mix up letters when reading?”

“Yeah but it’s more than that.”

“Okay. But why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you say it’s because you get overwhelmed.” 

“Because I do get overwhelmed when I make dumb mistakes like that. Plus, everytime I tell someone they never look at me the same. A lot of times they are shocked, and they also sometimes judge me because how does it not affect me the way the media portrays it? Why do I mispronounce words, why can’t I tell my left and right when someone gives me a direction, why I can’t read maps to save my fucking life but yet if I don’t have my GPS running I’m bound to a wrong turn, why does sometimes my mind decide I either can’t come up with a word at all or I can physically see it but I can’t say it and I can’t spell it because I’m such a bad speller.” 

“Shhh” not trying to cut you off but also trying to get you to breathe. “So you didn’t tell me cause you were scared I would look at you differently? Or judge you when something you can’t control comes out at random times of the day? That’s why you told me to point instead of just saying it because you didn’t wanna tell me in fear?” Not sure his tone is showing remorse for you thinking that at all or hurting that you ever would think of him in that way. 

“Yeah.” you embarrassingly admit.

Trevor spent the rest of the night listening to you and how your brain was different due to your own personal experience with being a dyslexic. The next morning you found him reading an article about the effects of different lighting and how dark mode was the best for dyslexics and certain fonts were better than others. It made you chuckle as you told him you knew and that’s why your phone was permanently in dark mode.  That day, he changed all the settings on his tv’s in his entire apartment for dark mode, even all of his own personal devices. Finding it adorable that he went on a tangent when he found out certain apps don’t support dark mode and how he said it was discriminating. Finding it harder and harder for yourself to hide your soft smile as you watched him continue his rant, your heart swelling at how passionate he sounded. 

“I really like you, you know.” you admitted when he finally stopped complaining about how Mirosoft finally started supporting dark mode it was still ‘white paper’ on black ink so they really missed the whole point. 

“Oh yeah.” as he grabs you, pulling you towards him on the couch, tangling your legs with his. 

“Yup” popping the p for emphasis.

“I really like you too. Actually I was gonna ask you.. Wanna make this official and let me call you mine.” The blush was obvious on your face, immediately turning a light red shade, nodding your head he pulled you into a soft kiss. 

—---------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were out to dinner with a few close friends and Trevor. Currently trying to tell a story about one of your new coworkers and how you didn’t like him but mid sentence you froze. Trevor had yet to see you freeze because the word you planned to say completely escaped you. Of course this wasn’t new to your friends as they saw the familiar signs, the way in which you paused, your lips pursed in a questioning way, your hand coming up and shaking knowing it was on the tip of your tongue and you just couldn’t think of it or couldn’t pronounce it. 

What your friends weren’t used to was seeing Trevor respond to it. His response to you struggling made all of them share a glance in approval of his small action. He took your shaking hand and slipped it into his own. Immediately your small flustered expression on your face turns to him. Your friends couldn’t hear what you were saying between yourselves if you were even talking at all, but they could see the care in Trevors eyes and how your frustration seemed to melt away.

“Hi” he whispers only for you to hear after a couple seconds pass. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Hi” 

“What are you trying to say?” repeating the same sentence that he asked you weeks ago when you asked him to get the milk out the fridge. 

“I can’t think of it.” a sigh leaving your lips. 

“Describe it.” His forehead resting on yours as you look into his eyes. 

“You know, like a red flag.” 

“Like in dating? So a slang term?” 

“I think.” Pausing for a few seconds for your brian to catch up. “But I know it’s not called a red flag, but it’s like it, I think, like when someone does something and immediately you're like ew.” 

“An ick?” he softly suggests. Immediately your mouth forms into an o-shape in shock, making his mouth twitch into the slightest smile. Kissing his check quickly and whispering a quick ‘thanks’ and turning back to your friends. 

“Okay so like this new dude thinks he can come in and just boss all me and my other co-workers around. That’s not even the worst part like not only is he lowkey sexist, he literally only wears highwaters, immediate ick…” Trevor sat there half listening to your story with a huge smile on his face, hand on your thigh drawing patterns subconsciously as he sipped on his drink. He loves listening to you talk, how you get lost in telling stories and he’s happy he was able to help you instead of you pushing it to the side like you did all those months ago. 

That’s how it is from that night on, anytime you text him and he can’t understand it, or you can’t think of a word, or butcher the pronunciation; he will simply turn to you and ask “What are you trying to say?” 

[gublersg1rl]

cw: feminism rant, smut, sex, misogyny, porn etcetc

note: i’m not the best writer or very articulate… and i’m dyslexic LOL i hope this is understandable it’s kinda all over the place i fear

Once, I saw a woman on Instagram criticizing the porn industry, and I immediately knew there would be some man in the comments getting defensive. What I didn't expect to see was a man who wrote, "Women criticize porn as if they don't write about having sex with fictional men."

As someone who despises the porn industry but actively reads smut, id argue that women writing smut is a direct effect of the ways porn has impacted women's sexual expression.

Why do women choose to sexually express themselves through fictional characters and celebrities? If a teenage boy wants to have sex, he's just being a boy. If a teenage girl wanted to have sex, something had to have happened to her. That's concerning. Men can have a lot of sex. He's a man. Of course, he's going to want to have sex. Women can't have sex; women having sex is slutty. Nobody likes a whore. Blowjobs? That's normal. Eating a girl out? Don't be gross. Thats disgusting. Women can't sexually express themselves without being judged in society, but you know who won't judge them? People they understand they have no chance with, like celebrities and fictional characters. This is why a lot of queer men also partake in "fangirl" culture because queer sexual expression is also shunned in society, so there has to be some sort of outlet.

This brings me to my next topic, the difference between porn and smut. They're not different in the way porn was made for men by men and smut was made for women by women. If I went on pornhub, the first thing ill see is, "Big tits virgin teen girl gets choked out by massive 10-inch cock." Women aren't equal to men in porn. Porn makes women objects; in porn, women's sexuality does not exist. Women don't have sexual needs outside of what the man wants. Once, I heard someone say, "In a pornsick culture, women don't have sex; they perform it." Meanwhile, in smut, it's the opposite. Even if the writer is writing with sub and dom dynamics typically, there will always be an underlying sense of trust, with moments of obvious consent, whether that is verbal, a touch, or a glance.

This isn't to say women don't write about rough sex. They do. There are so many fics that involve extreme kink aspects, but more times than not, there will be that trust and consent.

But what if there's not? I've seen it. if you read smut, you've probably seen questionable tags, too. It's important to mention that just because mostly women write smut, there are straight men who do it, too. I've read smut, which was painfully obvious it was written by a man. That being said, women also write questionable... smut. Going back to my most recent statement, women are shown and taught that they are objects. So it's not completely absurd to say you will find smut written by women that objectifies them; when you condition someone to an idea, it's hard to unlearn that. It's hard to understand sexuality as a woman when society is telling you not to be slutty but to also submit and to perform for a man and his sexual needs because in a man's world, his sexual needs, by default, are your sexual needs.

Is smut damaging to women? Well, I'm not a psychologist. I'm just a nineteen year old girl who likes to read smut about Spencer Reid and is also a feminist. So, I do not know how qualified I am to answer this question, but what I will say is I think that as long as women are not writing smut and portraying themselves as sexual beings living for the sole purpose of men.... smut is a perfectly healthy way to express sexuality :) all in all porn is fucking scary, and so is men and sex and being intimate it’s all really scary but smut is an easy way to express your sexuality in a safe anonymous space.

[kinardsevan]

Prompt: Tommy has dyslexia and has always felt self-conscious about it. His Dad often made him feel stupid because of it. Buck helps him work through it all.

Tommy tosses his phone onto the table and sighs, running a hand into his hair. Evan glances up from the island where he’s currently working on tossing the salad together for their dinner, confused. 

“Babe?” 

Tommy glances up at him and sighs, shakes his head in irritation. 

“My brain isn’t braining right now,” he replies as he leans against the chair. 

Evan nods, but stares at his boyfriend for a few moments. It’s not the first time he’s seen Tommy like this, and it’s definitely not the first time he’s seen him get this frustrated in the past few days. Still, he doesn’t want to press him to talk about something he’s not ready to. 

“I can hear you thinking over there,” Tommy says after a minute, standing back up straight. He turns towards the island and walks over to it, grabbing bowls to take to the table. “What’s up?” 

“I mean, you’ve just seemed really frustrated lately,” Evan tells him. “Especially in relation to your phone.” 

Tommy nods, his expression pinched as he presses his mouth together, purses his lips in contemplation. 

“I…I’m dyslexic, Evan,” he states, mildly apprehensive. 

Evan nods, but doesn’t say anything. He likes learning new things about Tommy. They’re still in a stage where that happens regularly, although he’s finding more and more that it’s not so much the big things anymore, as it is little quirks and differences. 

“So you were having trouble reading something?” He asks, like it’s the simplest question in the world. 

Tommy stares at him for a beat longer than feels normal. 

‘What?” 

Tommy opens his mouth and his lips move minutely, almost as if they’re forming words that aren’t coming out, before he closes it again. The action concerns Evan and he settles the tongs in his hand inside the salad bowl, rounds the counter. 

“What? What was that,” he asks, referencing Tommy’s lack of a statement. 

Tommy closes his eyes, his head dropping as a pained expression crosses his face. 

“N…No one’s ever just jumped into it,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he sucks the skin of bottom lip into his teeth, bites down. “I always get the ‘just use audio’, or ‘have someone read it to you’. Or my favorite, ‘you’re just not paying attention well enough’.” 

Evan furrows his brow at the statement. “But you have auditory processing issues. So how is that supposed to help?” 

Tommy looks up at him like someone has never bothered to suggest such a thing, slack-jawed at Evan’s words. Evan gives him a small smile as he reaches out and tugs on the hem of Tommy’s shirt, straightening it. 

“Nobody’s ever said any of this to you, have they,” he asks. 

“No,” Tommy drawls slowly. “It’s…weird. Nice, but weird.” 

Evan nods. He leans over and pecks Tommy on the lips. 

“So I used to get told that I was absent-minded and just didn’t care,” he confesses. “I’d miss appointments, blow off classes, oversleep.” 

“Because of the ADD,” Tommy counters.

Evan nods. 

“And then like six months into my tenure at the firehouse, Cap looked at me and said I should go talk to someone about it.I was doing better, but I was always running everywhere I had to be, because I couldn’t be on time to save my life.” Evan walks back around the counter and starts working on the salad again. “My point being, until someone else suggested a solution that actually helped,” he pauses, shrugs his shoulders. “I felt stupid. Like…like eveyrone just thought I just wasn’t trying hard enough.” 

Tommy nods. “Yeah. I relate.” 

Evan finishes tossing the salad and offers the bowl up to him. Tommy takes it from him and turns towards the table, sets it down before returning to the island and grabbing more supplies as Evan removes the apron he’s wearing. 

“So tell me how I can help,” Evan tells him. “If I can read it to you, or help break it down in easier sections. I think I read something a while back about breaking up modes of instruction too.” 

Tommy gives him a half smile then, shakes his head. 

“You just dive right in no matter what it is,” he observes. Evan smiles at him, shrugging. 

“I just want to make it easier for you,” he admits. “Besides, I don’t know if it’s obvious yet, but I kinda like you, Tommy Kinard. Kinda like you a lot.” 

Tommy chuckles then, glancing away as his cheeks flush. 

“Kinda like you too, Evan. Quite a bit.”