#In a wheelchair lol

[aiscard]

Veiw from Hotel I'm staying at!

Airports and flying is a mess nowadays I'm just gonna say. We missed our connecting flight because some environmentalists laid down on the runway(?) and our first plane got delayed. So first we were like okay, let's rebook the flights cause that was an option. So waited in line for 3 hours to find out that the next available flight home was on Monday. So now we are in a hotel trying to figure out where we can stay next, waiting on a reply from Lufthansa. Yaaay flying.

[phleb0tomist]

i keep seeing this idea that Real wheelchair users all have custom active chairs, and that transport/standard chairs are just an embarrassing stereotype. “no one really uses those!” “stop drawing disabled characters in standard chairs!!”

well, plenty of us are a stereotype. sorry. custom chairs require MONEY and good medical support. meanwhile active chairs are unusable for some people. i used an uncomfy transport chair (the kind with tiny wheels and no way to self propel) for a year, and a standard chair for 7yrs. until i got my powerchair i was only ever pushed by a carer. a lot of disabled people will never use an active or custom chair. don’t pretend we don’t exist just because we don’t fit some cool independent ideal.

shoutout to people who use transport chairs and adaptive strollers and other chairs that need to be pushed by a carer

shoutout to people who use standard chairs that don’t fit their body

shoutout to people who use secondhand or makeshift wheelchairs

in my teens i literally felt invalid as a disabled person because i didnt have the ‘real actual’ type of wheelchair everyone talks about online. just my garbage transport chair that my mom had to push. ​but people with shitty wheelchairs exist and are extremely common actually

[plague-parade]

today for disability pride month, i’d like to discuss something not many able-bodied people know about: ambulatory wheelchair users!

first, “what is an ambulatory wheelchair user?”

it’s a term used to describe people who use wheelchairs that can stand and or walk in some capacity. the amount a person can walk can vary greatly between ambulatory wheelchair users, some may need their wheelchair 60% of the time, some may need theirs 90% of the time.

“why would someone use a wheelchair if they can walk?”

there are tons of reasons someone who can walk might use a wheelchair, such as fatigue, balance, heart problems, pain, fainting, and many, many more. it could be dangerous for them to walk.

“isn’t that being lazy?”

nope! take shoes, for example. you *could* walk without them, but it would be painful, and could give you cuts or blisters. would you consider wearing shoes to be lazy? also, many disabilities and conditions are progressive, using a wheelchair can help slow progression and damage to your body.

so next time you see a wheelchair user move their leg, remember that ambulatory wheelchair users exist!

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[fudgecake-charlie]

In no way canon to secret life whatsoever, i just wanted to draw a background in aggie and felt self indulgent

cropped ver:

[camelliasblooming]

good ol babs

[iwonderwh0]

So @autiacorart you wanted to see what happens when you mod swap Carl and I'm here to show it

[themathomhouse]

this disability pride month, stop making jokes about people in wheelchairs standing up or walking.

can I stand and walk? sure, for a short while and with pain. the consequences for trying to be out all day without a wheelchair are that I'll be in bed for the rest of the week, too tired and in too much pain to move.

but the government won't give me my own wheelchair because they have the same attitude as these jokes - I can stand up, so I don't need one. exercise is good for you, you should walk!

it keeps me trapped in the house, unable to do anything more than short stints anywhere without borrowing or hiring a wheelchair - one that causes me pain to sit in and relies on someone to push me (usually with difficulty), because they're not going to have a high-end chair for that sort of thing.

it's not a miracle that a wheelchair user can stand or walk. it's something we should aspire to see more often.

[flintbian]

There's a disabled angel in good omens 🥺

[violent138]

I think Wayne Manor has been totally redesigned from top to bottom for accessibility reasons (e.g. increased doorway width, lower/modifiable countertops, ramps, flooring change, altered door handles, et cetera). It started with making the place better for Babs, then Alfred realized it was more comfortable as he aged, and Bruce realized that it was a massive benefit because family members were injured nonstop.

[knoepfl]

Nothing less than Perfect

Characters:

Salo: A once-ambitious councilor from Piltover, now physically and emotionally shattered after a violent attack. Confined to a wheelchair, he struggles with feelings of inadequacy and guilt, as he grapples with the loss of his former self.

Reader/You: A loving and devoted partner, you help Salo navigate his new reality. Patient and strong, you offer unwavering support and encouragement, helping him rediscover his self-worth and the hope to move forward.

Trigger Warnings:

Physical injury/disability: Depictions of Salo’s paralysis and its emotional toll.

Emotional distress: Themes of guilt, self-worth struggles, and depression.

Caregiving: Power dynamics in the caregiver role, with potential emotional strain.

Relationship dynamics: Themes of support, love, and vulnerability in a partnership during a difficult time.

Masterlist

Words: 868

--- The air in your shared home was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath your feet. It had been weeks since the attack, and while Piltover was moving forward, Salo was stuck in the past. Confined to a wheelchair after Jinx’s violent rampage, the once-proud councilor seemed to have shrunk in on himself.

You found him sitting by the window again, his broad shoulders hunched as he stared out at the bustling streets below. His hands rested limply on the arms of the wheelchair, the usual spark of ambition and confidence in his eyes replaced with a dull, faraway look.

Your heart ached seeing him like this, but you pushed the feeling aside. He didn’t need your pity—he needed your strength. Balancing a tray with a steaming pot of his favorite tea and a plate of fresh bread, you approached him quietly.

“Salo,” you called softly, placing the tray on the table beside him. He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the window.

“You’ve been sitting here all morning,” you continued, stepping around to face him. “You should eat something.”

Finally, he looked at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with a mix of frustration and guilt. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You folded your arms, not willing to let him retreat into himself any further. “You said that yesterday. And the day before.”

“I don’t see why it matters,” he snapped, his tone sharper now. “It’s not like it’ll make a difference.”

You flinched slightly at his words but quickly recovered, your resolve hardening. Kneeling beside his chair, you placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It matters to me,” you said firmly. “You matter to me, Salo.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I used to matter. To the city. To the council. Now look at me.” He gestured to the wheelchair as if it were a prison. “I can’t even stand on my own two feet, let alone serve Piltover.”

You felt a pang of sadness but refused to let him spiral further. Reaching out, you cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You are not defined by this chair,” you said, your voice steady. “You’re still the same man who stood up for what was right. The same man who fought for progress, who made this city better.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch for a moment before pulling away. “And now I’m a burden,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me. You deserve better.”

Anger flared in your chest—not at him, but at the situation that made him feel this way. “Don’t you dare say that,” you said, your tone sharp enough to make him look at you in surprise. “You are not a burden, Salo. You are my partner. My love. And I will take care of you because I want to—not because I have to.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and he looked away, his jaw tight. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Life isn’t fair,” you said, softening your tone as you brushed a tear from his cheek. “But we make the best of it. Together.”

He didn’t respond, but you could see the faintest glimmer of hope flicker in his eyes.

Rising to your feet, you placed the tray on his lap, arranging it so he could reach everything easily. “Now, drink your tea,” you said with a small smile. “You’ll feel better.”

Salo hesitated before picking up the cup, his hands trembling slightly. You watched as he took a sip, his tense shoulders relaxing just a little.

“See?” you teased gently. “Not so bad, is it?”

He gave a small chuckle, the sound like music to your ears after weeks of silence. “You always know how to get your way,” he said, a hint of his old humor returning.

“That’s because I’m stubborn,” you replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

As the days passed, you made it your mission to bring him back to life—not just physically, but emotionally. You helped him adjust to his new reality, finding ways to make the house more accessible and encouraging him to join you on short outings.

At first, he resisted, his pride keeping him from accepting your help. But slowly, he began to trust in your love and support. The bitterness in his voice softened, replaced with gratitude and even occasional laughter.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, his wheelchair parked beside you, he reached out and took your hand.

“I don’t say it enough,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But… thank you. For everything.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with love. “You don’t have to thank me,” you said. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

He leaned his head against your shoulder, and for the first time since the attack, he allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope for the future.

And as you held him close, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, the two of you would face them together. ---

[viejospellejos]

Se escapa varias veces de la policía en su silla de ruedas:

[slowlydehydrating]

I might’ve just sprained my ankle and I’m on my way to the hospital, and I just wanna ask-

YASMINA FADOULA, HOW ON EARTH DID YOU KEEP GOING???

[wishchip106]

what you doing when these guys recruit you in an airport 🤨

the gays.. 😨 they found me 😰😰

nyooom 💔😔

[kirby-the-gorb]

[therealkaidertrash21]

I just have to say, as a daughter of a wheelchair user, that scene in which Salo goes down the stairs with his wheelchair is completely unrealistic.

Going down stairs like Salo did could kill a person. I'm not kidding, my dad told me that happened to a kid he knew. It's very dangerous to do that. If someone were to do that in real life, they would fall and hit their head. And even though the representation of minorities in arcane is really good, this part isn't.

Just wanted to let y'all know.

Having said that, I do like the statement the scene tried to make. The Council never bothered, never even thought of installing a ramp. Physical disabilities are probably only common among zaunites and they don't care about them. They never cared about adapting places for them. They never made places accessible because they never needed it, and zaunites don't matter.

Very similar to how the real world works.