#getting to the point where i can barely walk without needing mobility aids if i miss out on my infusions and uhhhmng. they dont care <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[silkysong]

it severely sucks that i have to bare my teeth at an entire medical team to get life saving medication that keeps my nervous system from eating itself alive. just my opinion

[mothwiingz]

i feel like at this point i should probably be using forearm crutches bc i end up trying to take more weight off my legs than a cane is supposed to bear, which ends up with my arm hurting and it affecting my gait.

reasons getting forearm crutches is something i probably need/would benefit from:

- a cane can only really bear 20% of your weight max and i’ve realized now that i need more like 50%

- trying to put all that weight onto one arm makes me walk funny which hurts my hips

reasons that that might not work for me:

- i have a lot of stuff to carry for school, including a bag of yarn that doesn’t fit in my backpack on tuesdays & thursdays when my school has a crochet elective

- my school is inaccessibility hell, and while anyone can get inside the building bc of the ramps outside, the classrooms are laid out so that anyone with a mobility aid cannot get around inside them. i already struggle just having a cane. also everyone is rude and will just ram into you in the halls constantly. there’s a reason that i’m one of two physically disabled people in the entire school (they have ramps outside the building and accessible bathrooms with transfer bars inside but you cant get to 95% of the classes without going up several small sets of stairs)

- my family doesn’t have $60-100 to spare and idk what they would say about me wanting a different mobility aid since they thought i was healthy all my life until like a month ago when i started talking to them about it. also my dad is so sick he can barely walk and he only uses a cane cause he’s too proud to get a wheelchair and idk what they would think about me using a “worse” mobility aid than my dad who can barely leave his bed

ive been thinking that i would just wait until i turn 18 and get away from their judgment and not have to go to school anymore to get forearm crutches, but its getting to the point where i kinda need to. hhh i dont know what to do. i wouldnt be able to get around at school very well but thats kinda the schools fault and not mine. i guess they would fix shit if i complained. but still

[phladydoor]

Alright. Time to talk about my TIT experience.

This is not really about the show itself. This is about me and my health and the shit I had to do to get myself in that seat tonight.

TL;DR: I’m disabled and had to work extremely hard to be at the show and I’m proud of myself and I’m yappin about it!!!!

Okay now for the long-winded version.

When my friend grabbed us tickets back in June, I was just starting the process of addressing a mobility issue that had completely altered my life in recent years.

I have chronic back pain. It came on very suddenly and severely one day a little over two years ago now and it has been an uphill battle to receive the care I need ever since. I can walk only short distances and stand for only a few minutes before needing to sit and rest. It is debilitating and isolating and painful.

But still, I told my friend to get me a ticket. I had four months to prepare. I had faith in my brand new physical therapy team and spine doctor. Four months seemed like such a long time back then.

Things did not go as planned. Physical Therapy was overwhelming and difficult. I pushed myself to my limits, trying desperately to make it work. I blamed myself when I plateaued. The spine doctor said we should consider other options.

The first other option was a series of nerve ablations. The procedures would potentially reduce my pain level and allow me to return to physical therapy with better results. We started the process, but things moved slower than I’d hoped. Two weeks ago I was supposed to have my final test procedure before the real deal. My insurance denied it on a technicality. They will likely continue to deny it even upon appeal. I will have to return to my doctor to discuss the next other option.

So there I was. 14 days out from TIT and with my back barely better than it was when the tickets were purchased. I was facing down the very real possibility that I would not make it to the theatre. I spent a lot of time sobbing in therapy sessions, lamenting my limitations, and asking “why me?”

I talked to friends (there’s nothing better to alleviate a shame spiral) who encouraged me to look into mobility aids that could help me get to the show. I want to make it clear — never once have I judged another person for the use of a mobility aid. There is simply nothing worth judging about someone using a tool to make their life easier. But, when it came to accepting my own disability, I will admit that I had been resistant to the idea of using one. Not to get too in the weeds, but I’m in a larger body and the stigma associated with a fat person using a mobility aid vs a thin person? Is a very different beast.

But I did purchase one - a cane I could lean on that can also be transformed into a stool when I need to sit and rest.

I spent hours researching the venue — finding our seats via Google map and planning when and where I could take a rest on my cane/stool (my stane? My cool?). I would forgo the merch line. I’d have my friend drop me off at the wheelchair ramp before parking the car so I could get into the theatre without needing to take multiple flights of stairs.

Another fun little medical issue I deal with is chronic anemia, and let me tell you. I cannot recommend it. There is nothing quite like the wave of nausea that hits you when you’re desperately trying to catch your iron-poor, de-oxygenated breath. So I knew I would have to take things slow, and I checked in with my friend a week before to make sure they knew what support I might need.

I’m rambling now. I am, much like Dan, a catastrophic yapper. The point is I tried my very hardest to attend to every variable. I wanted to go to this tour so goddamn bad.

Going to see this show is the first thing I’ve done for myself in two years that isn’t about shouldering the burden of my condition all by myself. I have struggled with codependency in the past (what hasn’t this bitch struggled with, you ask yourself) and as such I spend a lot of time trying to be independent at the cost of… well… everything else. It’s a problem. I’m aware. I swung from codependency to refusing to ask for help even when it’s reasonable.

But that’s what this night had to be all about — leaning on friends. I had to communicate my needs. I had to put my health and my joy first. I had to push past the shame of existing in my current body.

And I did. I fucking did it.

I’m so sore and my back hurts and on the way out I did very nearly puke from the anxiety and the aforementioned anemia nausea. But it doesn’t matter. Because I used my little cane and took the space I needed and utilized my support system and I watched two gay idiots be so gay and such idiots on stage for multiple hours and I had fun!!!!!! And I did it for myself!!!!

I doubt myself frequently and often automatically. I grew up in a family who made me feel incapable of doing anything right. I was infantilized and dismissed and ignored. And tonight I was the person little me needed me to be. Tonight I fucking did it. I am so proud of myself and so happy I pushed through all this bullshit to see those gay men dance.

[brendathedoodler]

The second day of my out of season Whumptober! Today Legend has a bad time.

Day 2 prompt: Cornered / Caged / Confrontation

Warnings: none

Scaling a ladder wasn’t exactly what Legend wanted to be doing in a battle. A higher vantage point would certainly help with his shots, especially with all the pesky birds that apparently decided attacking them was fair game.

Of course, ladders didn’t allow for much mobility. The best thing he can do is get to the top as quickly as possible without attracting too much attention. Legend was fairly certain he’d gotten over here unnoticed.

An arrow quickly proved that assumption wrong.

Legend wasn’t sure if he was the luckiest man on the battlefield that day or the unluckiest, though he thought the answer might somehow be both.

The arrow pierced his arm just as he was reaching up to the next rung, hitting directly in the center of his forearm. The goddesses seemed to be looking out for him for once; rather than going through flesh, it only slid through fabric and scraped against bone already exposed bone.

Rarely did Legend see any perks to his stalfos arm, but it was times like these that certainly made him thankful. He scrambled to the top of the platform before the enemy archer could fire any more shots, and made quick work of both it and the birds that had been bothering them this whole time.

Legend’s assistance made the battle go a lot quicker, and it wasn’t long before he was hopping down from his perch and scurrying off to where he’d dropped his bag off. He might’ve walked away from that shot with just a few scrapes, but if anyone else saw the hole in his tattered glove, they’d start asking questions, and that wasn’t something he could afford.

He silently cursed himself for how much of a mess his bag was; clearly he’d need to organize soon. He couldn’t find anything in here! There were potions of all types and colors, several bags of pumpkin seeds (why did he even have these?), his wallet, a second smaller wallet, spare tunics, the first aid kit he never keeps stocked up, a spare shield-

“Cryptid!”

Shit. Legend took a deep breath and tried to channel Twilight’s impressive poker face. Maybe if he had his gloved arm search through his bag they wouldn’t notice the hole in it?

Wind jogged over, skidding to a stop by Legend’s side. “Are you okay? I saw you take a hit,” he exclaimed far too loudly.

Legend tried not to make it obvious when he pulled the flap of his bag over his arm, obscuring the injury. “No, it just barely missed-“

“Did I just see bone!?”

Shit. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He always forgot how damn perceptive the kid was. “No! It-“ Legend knew he was just scrambling for excuses at this point. “It nicked my glove. It’s padded, you saw stuffing, that’s all!” he insisted, disregarding the fact that the padding was, in fact, foam (and really, it made no sense to have stuffing at all, and he was already cursing himself for the shitty excuse).

“I think the fuck not!” Wind exclaimed, calling his bullshit out immediately.

“What’s going on here?”

Legend’s stomach dropped. There was no way in hell Twilight would let it go if he thought Legend was hiding an injury.

“Cryptid’s-“

“Fine!” Legend interrupted. “I got nicked by an arrow! It’s fine! I’m looking for a potion right now!” he insisted.

“But I saw it go through your arm!” Wind shouted, loud enough that now everyone knew what was going on (and Legend was certain that was intentional).

Twilight immediately turned his attention to Legend. “Cryptid-“

“I don’t fucking hide injuries! I’m not hiding an injury! I’m fine!”

In response to Legend’s immediate hostility, Twilight took a step back.

“Thank you, Addie. I’ll take it from here,” Twilight said, patting the young veteran’s back.

Wind quickly backed off, rejoining the rest of the group, all of whom had also begun backing off. All but Hyrule, though Twilight dismissed him with a wave.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight met Legend’s glare with an easy expression.

“I’m not going to make you show me,” Twilight started, though whenever else he was going to say was cut off by Legend’s sharp reply.

“Yeah, you better fucking not.”

Twilight paused and then sighed, deciding to just disregard that. Legend was obviously defensive, and it was hard to blame the guy for that. This was a situation best handled with care (even if he wanted nothing more than to grab his arm and see for himself that the teen wasn’t hurt). “Did an arrow really go through your arm?”

Legend froze in place. He didn’t want to just say Wind was a liar, because he wasn’t. But saying yes would mean he’d have to explain, and wouldn’t that mean he’d have to show him?

“I only have a few scratches,” he choked out after a pause that felt far too long. “It doesn’t even need a potion.”

It wasn’t an answer to Twilight’s question, but a non-answer said more than anything else. “Take one anyway, alright? If not for that, do it to ease our nerves.“

It was a compromise. As much as Legend disliked being wasteful, having to reveal his hand to everyone else was a thousand times worse. At least this way there was assurance he wasn’t hiding any injuries (something that they’d each done at least once, much to the displeasure of the others).

At his nod, Twilight turned away to let him rummage in his bag more. Legend popped the cork with his teeth and chugged it down in a few quick gulps. “There. Happy?”

“Very,” Twilight agreed, offering a smile that Legend didn’t return. “Get yourself settled and meet back up with us when you’re ready.”

With that, Twilight got up to rejoin the group. Legend watched him go for a few long seconds before finally turning back to his bag.

He flexed his hand, feeling the faint squish of the foam padding beneath his skeletal fingertips.

Why did he always make things so much harder for himself?

[elektroyu]

Health logistics stuff under the cut

Sooo my psychiatrist (where I get my sick leave slips) would like me to get into some sort of psychosomatic clinic, or if I don't want that, at least would like me to do some sort of ambulant psychotherapy. I definitely don't want to do the former because I don't see how that would NOT crush what little bit of energy I still have.

You see, I like being able to dress myself, make myself meals, get myself some tea or water when needed, get groceries like once a week etc etc, and I also like being able to do a little bit of creative work for a little bit of extra cash here and there, and care for my pets myself, even though all of those things juuuust barely are what I can manage on my own. But I CAN still manage that on my own somehow.

Now if you add anything on top of that, even just a little chill birthday party with closest family or a doc or vet appointment, the scales already begin to tip and I need to adjust my routine to get lots of extra rest for a couple days. Or extra weeks if it's bad.

That said, to be thrown into a whole new environment with all the unfamiliar stimuli that would need extra processing from the brain, completely different routines that don't take into account the pacing needs of someone with ME/CFS, potential logistics issues if you can walk only short distances for limited amounts per day with breaks in between for like 3 hours, also with it's new people - especially medical personnel which may or may not know what ME/CFS is and thus may or may not know what pacing in that context means plus the potential catastrophic consequences of pushing such a patient over what they're able to do, which thus may or may not result in having to get into arguments with them about my safety - I honestly don't see me benefitting at all from such an arrangement. So I'll refuse that however I can. It's simply not an option. I want to continue being able to care for myself as much as possible.

That leaves me with normal ambulant psychotherapy. Which in theory? I don't mind doing it, I'm actually having fun exploring myself and working on myself to get better at life, so from that point of view - sure, bring it on! But even that is difficult for me to do, because even back when I was much better than I'm now this was already taking a toll on me if it was every week. Every 2 weeks was better, but still hard to do. And then there's the question of how do I even get there regularly? I definitely can't pay for taxis each week 😂 but I also can't use public transport because I'd need to walk further than I'm able to without worsening my symptoms. Now usually my sister drives me to appointments, or at least she used to. But now her working schedule changed and she doesn't have the time anymore to drive me somewhere each week (not to mention, she has her own life lol). I do have that scooter mobility aid, but that's not reliable enough because it's not weatherproof 🙄 it's only made for dry days lol and I paid for that thing on my own so if it breaks I'm simply fucked (and idk if I'm physically even able to use it for longer distances in the first place - never got to try that out because never had the spoons left; works great on short distances if the weather allows though).

So what does that leave me with? Idk tbh. At the end of the month I have another appointment at the psychiatrist, but it's a substitute doc again I think, so idk how helpful they can be. We'll see, I guess. 🤷

Then there's the question of: cognitive behavioral therapy or depth psychological therapy? Which would be better in my case (ignoring the logistics issues)?

[lipiaknight]

A document of all the abuse ive been dealing with.

Mobility aids

ive told my bf many, many times not to adjust the height of my cane and crutches to fuck with me. He does it anyway because "seeing you wobble is cute" ive told him so many times why its not cute and its incredibly dnagerous to me, but he goes "yeah, but you always adjust it when you change your shoes, how is this any different" for referance, i have a set of demoldable skates that change my height by a good 5-6 inches when open, so i adjust my crustches and cane to accomidate. i wear them when going out for longer time periods because if my legs get tired or my hips start to hurt, i can lock my legs and just skate around. For shorter trips, or around the house, i obvously wear flat shoes, and dont have the extra height, so i adjust them lower its annoying as hell. i also tell him not to put weight on my crutches specifically because i have a wide rubber foot, and theres a weight limit before it will start to rip. when he holds one of my crutches (like if im going to pick someting up, or pay for something) he leans against it. Last time i got mad, he said "its not that expencive to replace the foot, just get a new one" run down to vent chat if you want a very long and in dept explination as to why that is problematic hes 50 lbs over the weight limit, btw

Isolation and lack of aid

Yeah, when my car broke down, i asked if they could help pay to fix my car so i could still work. That way i could get a job in tulsa. I was told no. Every time i asked to borrow the car, and said i could handle something myself, i was forced to have bf or gf go with me. Any time i asked specifically to go alone so i could run errands like get shots, set up appointments and such, i was told no. I even went out of my way to schedule my last doctors appointment when they werent going to be home bcause they had a date and they cancled it so they would be there when i left and when i got back. I planned on walking home and enjoying the sunny day, but they didnt let me walk because it was too far. Not even a mile, and i had my crutches. I tried making friends at my old workplace, but i was working with my bf as the manager, and he repremanded the one friend i had for wasting time on the clock while chatting with me. Its why i have no friends.

The original "i need help" summary

so, first things first. Im not able to work a job down here. I cant make any money, and so because the people im living with refuse to help with medical expences, all my tests and medical equipment is getting stalled. I dont even have my own dresser because ive been told to "get it yourself" when i have no reasonable way to make money. The only thing i can reliably do is comissions and streaming, and even then, income isnt consistant, and its barely enough to cover the medical expences i have. On top of that, when we needed to budget, one of the things that were "limited" were meal replacement shakes, which, when i have days i cant eat at all, is the only way i get neutriance in my system. Im scolded and yelled at when i dont push my body to the point of collapsing, and when i do collapse, im coddled like a child because im injured when it could have been prevented. When i said that what im experiancing is financial abuse because they refuse to support me in the ways that i need and my EBT card is used without my knowlege, my bf threatened to get violent. Even directly told me he wanted to wake me by putting a hole through the door. Im not allowed to vent to friends, and all my social media is watched without my consent, even after i tell them not to because of how my therapist taught me to manage my anger. When i got angry about the ableism and abuse, i was told i have narsisstic, self victimising tendancies, and im scared that ill be put in a place where not even my basic needs are met. its been slowly getting worse and worse over the past 2 years, but i finally feel like its bad enough to reach out

Boundry crossing

i told (my gf) not to go through my DM's when i first moved in because 1) i dont have my old groomers blocked, and i have (cw, grooming bullshit) pictures and messages of me when i was a minor in various states of undress, places where i vent and say things in the worst possible way thanks to autism and the way i process language (example calling it financial abuse when im not given an allowance to buy medical supplies and not having a consistant income as well as them taking my EBT card and using it without my input) and also just... generally flirting with ppl because im poly and i know she has jealousy issues, and instead of respecting that, she did it anyway, and didnt feel guilty till bf said he was dissapointed in her. THEN she told me, and was STILL angry about the way i talked about her, and what i said

unreasonable list of responcibilities while my needs are sidelined

Me: ah yes, My disability making me unable to do chores is the problem, and not the internalised ableism that you aknowlege and refuse to confront because youre tired from work. Get into therapy/nbh context: the only ongoing argument between my gf and i is that she wants me to clean more. The expectations of me are, and i quote

-vaccum every 3 days (the vaccum is to heavu and i have repepatedly asked for a lighter one so i can)

-wash and put away the dishes (hands over head make me pass out. I have broken dishes before. That and i have alot of trauma around doing dishes as a task, so i get really bad anxiety and they ignore me asking for comfort)

-feed, water, animals as well as take care of litter (but im not alowed to claim the animals are mine? because that makes her upset?)

-take out trash every other day (trash doesnt filll that often, and ive been fighting for me to have healther food and drinks so theres less waste. I create less than a quarter of the waste in this house)

-meal prep for BF to cook (and also make their work lunches, and take care of portioning ect)

ALL OF THIS while also having a physical disability that makes it incredibly difficult to stand / walk without pain, in a house that is so unaccessable that- on days i can get out of bed but barely, i cant leave my room because of steps and caving in floors, and STILL doing my youtube, twitch, AND comission carreer. Shes getting upset that im not able to do it all and is CONSTANTLY lecturing me because she "doesnt want to treat (me) like a child, but (im) acting like one by not helping out" i cant even fucking move away because theres no accessable jobs in my area and my previous jobs arent an option anymore because of how covid affected the people i worked for. i keep telling her to get into therapy for her PTSD and for her ableism, but ONE failed therapist appointment means she compleatly fucking dropped out. what makes it worse is that my BF is encouraging this behavior. by not telling her off i mean

Person 1: that's too much chores like objectively that is a not sustainable or normal amount of chores. also the animal thing is concerning too

Me: BuT tHeY wOrK 8 hOuRs a DaY. i ShOuLd Be AbLe To HaNdLe It (translation: but they work 8 hours a day. I should be able to handle it)

Person 1: she also shouldn't be infantilizing you for having issues regulating a large amount of tasks. are they much older than you?. youre still quite young, is that your first time living alone?

Me: im 20. shes 35 and hes 38 (yes i recognise how problematic that is)

Person 2 (responding to person 1) Definitely not for sure. Might be reasonable for an able bodied person maybe, but definitely not reasonably with your disability.

Person 1: age gaps can work when the relationship is built on trust, communication, and understanding.

Person 1 (responding to person 2): meal prep plus dishes plus vacuuming every three days is already a not normal amount

Me (responding to person 1): kinda? i lived in an apartment with a roomate before this, but she was a VERY tidy person, and we both owned very few things, and the apartment was highly accessable. The bathroom was even a reporpoused walk in closet, so i could have had a wheelchair if i wanted at the time and been able to navigate fine

Person 2: Everyone in my house has allergies, especially to dust, and my mom only vacuums once a week, so every 3 days seems ridiculous.

Me: we have 3 animals that we dont groom, and theyre allergic to pollen. They want me to care for the pollen... instead of... i dunno, not getting a hottub and saving up for an air purifier?

Person 1: this is sounding more and more like they want a live-in cleaner. them choosing to work 8 hour shifts does not mean you don't get to have choices and a life

Me: BTW, did i mention they got a hottub? like... less than a week ago? after i had been asking for a fucking dresser for months because i dont have anywhere to put my clean clothes and towels and the pet hair on my skin after i shower causes meltdowns

Person 2: Chores should be split equitably, not equally. (2 people responded with a This emote)

Me: it doesnt even have to be brand fucking new. I will be happy with a 50$ dresser covered in shitty paint from goodwill. i just need a place i can put my clean clothes. Also, did i mention that theres wasps on the back porch, where the drier is? and my family has a history of being allergic to wasps? so i panic when i go out there to wash, dry and put away laundry that i cant even fucking put away, and they treat it like im fucking manipulating them. im sorry that i dont know if im allergic or not and ther seriousness of the allergy has put people in the er and even killed family members, and im not willing to risk that. They like "just do laundry at night" as if its not too cold to walk outside. THEY DONT EVEN DO LAUNDRY AT NIGHT BECAUSE ITS TOO FUCKING COLD. they expect my coping mechanisms to make me healthy and normal. They dont realise im fucking coping, not healing.

Me (responding to person 2): but its easy for them! should be easy for me!! /sarc

Person 1: (My name censored) I gotta say this doesn't sound like a safe situation for you to be in. (person 2 agrees)

Me: its not. It never fucking was. Heres a bit of fun math for you! i turn 21 in august. my bf and i's 3 year anneversary will be the following january. my options at the time when i moved in with them were to either move back in with my mom (which was objectivly worse than this) or drive 14 hours, alone (because my gf didnt want to drive an hour in the snow to fly bf to drive with me) and have a place to stay with people who said they loved me, or become houseless. I was in a tripple loose situation. and now im fucking stuck. Im undervalued, scolded constantly, unsafe due to both location and their behavior, and unable to work or drive because my junker of a car died. Im stuck and theres nothing i can do. i just... im tired. i dont want to be here. I want to be able to move somewhere that i will be safe and get the care i need

More information on the "messing with my disability aids" from earlier

Me: ive told my bf many, many times not to adjust the height of my cane and crutches to fuck with me. He does it anyway because "seeing you wobble is cute". i just-...

Person A: ????? thats so fucked up

Person B: What the actual fuck??

Person A: "seeing you struggle to walk even more than usual is amusing to me" thats what that means

Person B: "I broke your kneecaps because it's adorable watching you struggle 📷"

Person A: my wife wont even touch my mobility aids without asking

Me: ive told him so many times why its not cute and its incredibly dnagerous to me, but he goes "yeah, but you always adjust it when you change your shoes, how is this any different"

Person A: that's.......not the same thing... one is getting dressed and ready to go out somewhere, and the other is being harassed and having to fix what was messed up

Me: for referance, i have a set of demoldable skates that change my height by a good 5-6 inches when open, so i adjust my crustches and cane to accomidate. i wear them when going out for longer time periods because if my legs get tired or my hips start to hurt, i can lock my legs and just skate around. For shorter trips, or around the house, i obvously wear flat shoes, and dont have the extra height, so i adjust them lower. its annoying as hell. i also tell him not to put weight on my crutches specifically because i have a wide rubber foot, and theres a weight limit before it will start to rip. when he holds one of my crutches (like if im going to pick someting up, or pay for something) he leans against it. Last time i got mad, he said "its not that expencive to replace the foot, just get a new one". hes 50 lbs over the weight limit, btw

Person C: i’ll beat his ass

Me: i would encourage it, but im still living with him. not yet. gimme 2 months

Person A: i hate to ask this kind of question, but if hes treating you that way is not being with him an option?

Me: siigh. (not at you, jsut alot of info hang on)

Person A: u don't have to answer if u don't want to. no pressure

Me: so, i am working on running away. In order to do so, ive done the math and to get on my feet, ill need between 2 and 2.5k$. 2.5k if were including transportation (my food will be covered by SNAP) I have a plane tiket out on the 20th, and i have a place to stay. Im not sharing my entire plan in this discord because my discord DM's are read. Not my servers, though, but im not willing to play with the chances of my plan being ruined. Im working on getting a job now, and fundraising to get the 2.5 needed to cover my first months expences via both comissions and donations, but its not going anywhere. im at 400 now. Thats it. if i break up with him, ill be kicked out. If i bring up the fact that im being abused, he will get violent. He already has in the past and swung at me. I cant work where i live due to lack of a car and lack of accessable jobs. Im in the process of running away now. just takes time. "why dont you get out sooner?" saving money takes time. Plus, my aunt is the one buying the ticket. I want to avoid holiday prices. more likely ill get a bit extra once im down here "what took you so long to realise it was bad?" love bombing and getting into a relationship with a 35 and 37 year old at 18 when i didnt know their ages and they didnt say when asked, "Has he hit you before?" no. Hes swung and missed, hit walls, put holes in doors and furnature, but hasnt techincally hit me yet. I dont expect that to last. "are you safe right now?" as long as i keep my head down and mouth sut about my plans, yes. Ill be fine (edited)

Person A: wow, im sorry you're having to go through that, but im proud of you for taking the steps you're taking. its incredibly difficult to do what youre doing, but you'll be better off for it (edited)

Me: i just wish the fundraising was working. also, clearifying that ill be leaving january 20th, not dec 20th

Person A: i hope you're able to make up the money

Me: ive been referring to it as "the 20th" with my friends to make it harder to discern. Also, all of my dm's about the situation have been in code, as well as cyphered. for F, i just use enji, for T i use enji plus a 6- cypher, and pictography using emotes plus enji for M1 (names of my friends cencored for my safety)

Person A: that's pretty cool!

Me: this is now the third time ive had to run away somewhere else for my own safety. Its jut the first time ive had to do so with so few resources. Im really good at runaway notes, cryptography, and secret messages. when i post on tiktok, i use the simplist secret code there is so my bf and gf cant see it. just... write out your message with the first letter of a sentance

My public harrassment being brushed off and ignored

Me: The thing that pisses me off, is the one time I tried to use the scooter at Walmart because I was shopping for he house alone for the first time in a while, I got scolded by an employee for not walking. When I explained that I hurt myself getting out of my car, otherwise I would use my mobility aids, she said "if you're hurt, go to the doctor. Don't be lazy" then stormed off. This was before I was medicated for my anxiety, so I just had a panic attack. I mean... How does one even respond to that???

Person W: run her over

Person Y: eat her

Person X: (replying to person W) Not with the scooter, with a car

Me: This is the same worker who saw me without my cane on a good day and asked where it was because, and I quote "I thought all you crippleds need those"

Person Y: wtf

Person Z: Going to a doctor isn't an immediate thing. You don't get hurt and then immediately see a doctor and immediately get treated. It doesn't work like that. And injuries don't immediately go away the moment that you see a doctor either.

Person Y: also has she considered that not all people have access to doctors

Person Z: ^this too

Person Y: ALSO has she considered that doctors can be busy and not have time to see you

Me: She's also the same one who told me I wasn't allowed to wear the demoldable skates I like to use when my mobility is low because I can just lock my knees and be dragged around. Like a wheelchair, but worse!

Person X: You should report her to management. (4 people reacted with a "this" emote)

Me: Fun fact! I am allowed to wear them in Walmart, it's perfectly fine. There's a size limit to the wheels allowed indoors, but it's allowed.

Person W: this is some sort of harassment

Me: Probably.

Person W: you can report it

Person X: this woman never speak again challenge

Me: She doesn't bother me when I'm with my bf and gf, so I didn't bring it up due to anxiety, and Havnt talked to her since I got on meds, but I'm just thinking, and just.... Fuck, man... I let alot of shit slide because of my anxiety in the past that I shouldn't have

Person W: did you tell your partners? they both may be able to help you report it

Me: I did, but their responce was basically "just don't talk to her, you basically never leave the house anyway" which is true, but it was annoying to hear. I dunno, I can't really go anywhere on my own as is, so it's not like anything changes considering how uncomfy she makes me, but still....

threats of violence

M1: The other day I realized That your bf and gf are my siblings in law kind. I think I will show my love by being feral toward them. I will just growl at them and bite them but in a fond way. except your gf. She scares me. Just a little. Not too much because I’m the biggest man

Me: they dont really like you

M1: that’s valid actually. I was just joking. being silly if you will. I’m sorry I didn’t know- I thought they did like me- I was trying to warm up to them and shit /gen. It’s okay that they don’t like me though that’s fine

Me: (context, i had taken an edible to manage my anxiety) Ok, i need to type this out while im still sober, its important. i told them about your financial abuse thing, and it made them both angry. Bf violently so. they basically said to stay out of our relationship, so they dont like you. As far as they know, im not talking to you for a few days. In reality, i wasnt talking to anyone relly, not just you

M1: Oh. I don’t like that they don’t like me because of that.

Me: same here

M1: They don’t have to like me because I’m annoying and not chill n shit. That’s fine. But because I said that they were abusive? And telling me to stay out of it? That’s fucked. I don’t feel like you’re safe there. I don’t like that. Be careful. I wish I could help but the only thing I could do is ask someone to help me help you financially get out. And you don’t know my parents like that and you wouldn’t want their help

Me: Bf desnt want to be called an abuser period. His ex claimed he was an abuser and still uses that as a method of earning money.

M1: that is…. A red flag. so is his ex don’t get me wrong

Me: he was really angry when he heard that. He told me that if it werent for his "spirtual council" (the spirits helping to manage his anger) he would have "put a hole through that door to wake you. Thats how angry i was". He seriously scared me, so i havnt talked to him much since

M1: That’s bad. That’s really bad. You know that right? Like that’s not good

Me: yeah

M1: Okay cool just checking. You wanna leave? Do you want out?

Me: im not entirely sure, if im being honest. i care alot alot, and i do love them, but what he said made me litterally feel sick.

M1: I know

Me: they emphasised that if the idea that they were abusive came from me and not you, the options were to 1) kick me out, 2) force me to get a job and start paying rent and break up with me, or to "call your mom, and have her come pick you up"

M1: That’s horrible. They’re fucking horrible. and I know you love them and I’m sorry

Me: im just... so scared. I know i cant support myself with how bad my body is. and i love them so much. The way Bf kept talking about being so mad he wanted to hurt me, then immedantly relaxed when he heared that the idea came from you.... Fuck, now i remember why these memories were kept from me lol

Closing thoughts

There is so much more, but when i made the deicision to run away, alot of my messages were deleted for my own safety while i make plans. As written above, My DM's are read, and my main account on here is also read without my consent. If you happen to have advice, Please hit up my DM's

[dnalkaline]

ugh nobody actually has to read this i just feel like i need to type all my thoughts out somewhere or i'll explode.

I know like 9-12k$ isn't like impossible to get but it feels so daunting and i know barely anyone will reblog or donate to my GFM if i made one (as always happens for my medical shit. even for my pets) so idk what the fuck do even do about this. I'm trying not to be cynical about it but that's just been the running theme since. literally my entire life. i don't even know why i bother anymore

Honestly i have no hope for my future if that shit grows back and leaves me in the same amount of pain as someone going through labor multiple times a year AGAIN i think i will actually kill myself for real. im sick of this shit.

like this isn't even a dysphoria thing it's something that could ACTUALLY kill me through blood clots and nobody in my life IRL even fucking cares. My mom has enough money to just pay for a hysterectomy out of pocket for me without it being a huge deal to her and she just fucking won't and just keeps telling me to harass my insurance about it despite this being months of back-and-forth and i can already feel my endo symptoms growing back.

My insurance flat-out told me they'll only approve it if it keeps growing back and i have to go through surgery to remove it multiple times. This isn't even counting the fact I also have CYSTS that need to be removed because they're also causing pain and my insurance just... won't fucking approve it

The symptoms are already coming back after my most recent surgery and I'm still having periods despite the fact I'm POST-MENOPAUSE.

I don't understand why people keep preventing me from committing suicide just to not actually help me with the reasons why I keep trying to kill myself. it feels cruel. People say to reach out or whatever and then go radio silent. it feels so performative. I don't even mean that i expect my friends to give me money because i know everyone has problems but it feels like i keep being ignored and people make a point to not even reblog my help posts. It's always like the same 3 people getting in touch.

at this rate i hope i die. everyone keeps telling me it'll get better and i just have to go on but my entire life is me getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. Therapy hasn't been helping anymore because all the depression isn't like trauma shit it's just the poverty and the fact life keeps actively trying to get me killed by any means necessary all the time. I'm exhausted.

I'm tired of being the sick friend that's treated like the elephant in the room just because i can't fucking do anything and every inch of my life is just another walking trigger warning to people. I've become self conscious about needing to walk with mobility aids now because I feel like it's just another reminder of my fragility and inevitable demise to people.

I just don't fucking get it. i metaphorically break my back all the time to help other people with their shit but i barely get anything in return (except from the same few ppl i mentioned earlier and i am very grateful you guys are real friends). like. am i doing something wrong. am i just an unlikable person. i know people think i'm scary which i try to offset by being nice but i don't know if it's working.

I'm only alive right now because all of the fucking demon pacts and other spirit work i do causing me to avoid stuff and get more opportunities and I feel stupid about it because that's not even stuff that most people believe in and can't even be proven to be real.

i dont even know where im going with this im tired and i want to give up. fuck life. i actively despise life most of the time. I guess I just have to keep clinging to my blorbos i dont fucking know. whatveer.

[alvie-pines]

i know they say 'dont trust anything you feel about your life after 10 pm' or whatever but man. i just had to schedule a post begging for donations so i can maybe hopefully afford top surgery within the four-year period where i might have a chance to get it legally (as im going to college in connecticut but will probably come back to missouri and/or kansas for my masters degree) because things are...

im not gonna lie, things are bad.

im disabled and i cant work. i TRIED! i fucking tried. but even working part time for a few months last summer was miserable and has made my disability worse in the following year. i was taking the max dose of otc painkillers almost every day and still ending my shifts in tears. i had to spent most of my free time just fucking recovering. and in the end, it made my pain worse to the point where i couldnt function without a mobility aid. i cant walk or stand for long periods of time, i cant bend down, i cant carry heavy things, and i need my cane when walking around more often than not, which means i only have one free hand. i literally cannot do the things most entry-level jobs require. and my schedule isnt very free because i have a ton of doctors appointments, courtesy of my grandparents, to try to fix it.

and my academics are in fucking shambles. i had a mental breakdown last semester and had to drop two classes, take incompletes on the others. the two incomplete classes arent going well. im off my adhd meds and mentally unstable, having small mental breakdowns and panic attacks frequently, plus trying to keep up with my medical stuff and taking all my medications and also trying to balance it all with my chronic pain which is fucking distracting, constantly. and my ASL professor, who i need to instruct me, has not been able to meet over the summer, so im kind of lost on my own. no fault of hers, she has a lot going on. oh, and im also taking an exam which covers several subjects i was not in class for, so yippee! i dont have confidence that i will end this semester with anything close to passable grades. and i NEED to go back. for so many reasons. i need to get away from my mom, i need to be in a blue state where its safer for me, i need a degree so i can find work that i can do.

im also going through the horrible process of... well... processing the fact that my mom was abusive, and the extent of it. i feel like shit, i feel so fucking destabilized. i try to act normal but i am BARELY holding it together here, and the worst part is that i dont think theres much my therapist can do right now except help me talk through what im thinking and feeling--this is something i have to go through. i know it is, and yet i hate it.

and the worst part is, my grandparents are trying to support me, and theyre wonderful, so i feel like i should be doing better than i am. but i just cant. i cant do it. im falling apart.

[trans-mink]

Heres that post I said I'd make of my concert experiences in 2022 and my issues with access as a person with hypermobility.

Bare in mind I'd only ever been to 2 pre covid and I managed to get to 4 this year :D. I am still getting used to what works for me in terms of managing my disability in different contexts.

Queen

My first one of 2022 was queen and adam lambert. It was so good, those old men can move, their vocals are still in great nick especially Brian's. The visuals were great too, a lot of lights and imagery from their different eras. Adam on a spinning motorbike for Bicycle, hell yeah. Was hoping they'd perform Innuendo which is my fav queen song but they did not, they did do The show must go on however which is almost as good. Cried a lot at These are the days of our lives.

Can't say much in terms of access cos I was standing (bad decision bcs i hurt like hell afterward but i got that ticket off someone else so)

Carpenter Brut

Honestly wish I'd enjoyed it more but there were several things working against me there. Its the kind of music I listen to while doing other stuff cos its mostly instrumental so sitting and bobbing along kinda didnt cut it for me personally. I think id have had a better experience if I was able to stand up and dance as well as having the option to sit but we werent allowed to do that rip. No way I could have gone in the pit bcs by this point my mobility issues had worsened. That and I was worrying about my nova twins concert the following week bcs my doctor was refusing to provide a disability note for me :^).

In terms of access for that, I did have to go up stairs cos the building doesnt have lifts (listed venues baybeee). Thankfully i dont have trouble with stairs but a lot of people do so :/. The seats were not comfortable at all and my back hurt after 😭

Nova Twins

As previously mentioned I saw Nova Twins the week after and was given a disabled seat despite my doctor being a cunt about it. Very glad I did, the view was good and I was able to stand up/ dance when I needed to (if i sit for too long my hips lock). Got to see the hosts of We wear black pod there so that was great, got their signatures and they said i was pretty :'). The acts themselves went hard, most energetic concert I've been to bar janelle monae it was so much fun. Hurt my arms headbanging off the railing bcs of course I did. Wish they'd done Devil's Face but we move.

Again, this building is listed and has no lift and im unsure if it has ramps. The complain in terms of my own access is that the disabled seats were just benches and when I asked for a seat with a back I was told there were none (fantastic for those of us with back problems, my ass had to get on the floor and stretch out bc of them shitty seats and in the end it was comfier to stand and move around). Chased it up with a complaint email and was told they do keep chairs with back support but this clearly wasnt communicated to the security team. That or the guy I asked just couldnt be bothered which....

First Aid Kit

First concert I'd been to completely alone and I'm super happy I'm at a point where I can do things more independantly. Their Support Lola Kirke was good, amazed that this woman was able to jump around and play guitar with her nipples only covered by stars, if I did that I'd hit myself in the face.

First aid kit themselves were so fucking good, I went in without having listened to the new album (got a signed copy while i was there tho hehe), it was a good gamble cos I cried the instant they walked out on that stage and performed Palomino. Visuals were my second fav after Queen's, they had shots of horses, fields, ocean, stuff like that it was super pretty. Cried at Lion's roar and some other songs, think thats the most ive cried at a gig so far. Enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would holy shit. That bitch was packed to the rafters and everyone lost their shit it was so fucking loud!!!

I had a seat in circle with a pretty good view considering I was kinda late into getting tickets cos i had no idea they were touring until about a month ago jkdbfvjhbhjb. This time the seats didnt make my back hurt which is a plus :D.

Final thoughts

I'm happy that I got to see everyone I did this year bcs it helps me work out what I like and dont like and what works for me. I wish venues would not make people prove theyre disabled just to get a fucking seat (particularly if its an a standing venue!!!) and doctors stop restricting access to shit we clearly need like I wouldnt bother asking if it wasn't essential :^). Your accessible seating is not accessible if it doesn't provide basic support lol!!!!

[cripple-punk-dad]

“Loss of use”

‘Loss of use’  refers to when a disabled person ‘loses value’ in the eyes of society and therefore loses the right to live in the eyes of society.

Because we live in a capitalist society (I’m going to be specifically referring to the united states in this post) that means that you only have value as much as you can provide labor or capital to that society. Whether that be through selling your body (Sex work, construction, sports, delivery, food industry, factory work, warehouse work, etc.),  your intelligence (coding, inventing, technical writing, think tanks, etc.), or your creativity, (painting, drawing, sketching, creative writing, performing arts, music, etc.) The only way that we collectively assign value to ourselves and other people is our ability to provide labor. If you can’t provide labor, than what use do have to that society?

Well, if we look at current representation of disabled people in media, we get one or two answers, but the biggest is:

Inspiration porn. Inspiration porn is when a disabled person  is shown to ‘triumph’ despite their disability. An example may be an autistic or autistic coded character ‘learning’ how to cope in an overwhelming situation and not just leaving the situation. Another example could be a paralyzed person forcing themselves to walk or abandon their mobility aids to accomplish something that could easily be accomplished by them just using their mobility aids. This is hugely problematic for a couple of reasons, a big one being that it encourages the mindset that disabled people are always inspiring and accomplishing amazing things despite their disability, which frames disability as something to beat and overcome rather than something that is normal and that people live with every day. It also reinforces the idea that most disabled people could ‘overcome’ their disability it they just tried hard enough, and that this must mean disabled people are lazy.

Disabled people don’t exist to inspire able-bodied people.

Disabled people aren’t lazy for existing.

So how does this related to ‘loss of use’?

Well, when disabled people can’t work, and aren’t inspiring able-bodied people (because lets be honest, having to put on an inspiring show for everyone around us all the damn time is fucking exhausting), then that means that, to a lot of people, we’ve lost our usefullness. That’s obviously not true, usefulness does NOT determine worth, disabled people are worthy of survival. Not only survival, but we deserve to be able to thrive.

I guess where this is coming from is: I’ve stopped inspiring the theatre community at school, and that means that people have lost all patience and sympathy and compassion for the fact that I simply can’t do everything that they need me to do. And it really fucking hurts. It hurts to find out that the biggest reason people ‘put up’ with me and my disability is because I was useful to them. And now that I’ve pushed myself to the literal breaking point (I’m bedbound and can barely stand without falling over), and I can’t do anything more for them, they’ve just discarded me like a piece of trash.

I’m not trash, I have worth not in spite of my disability, but because I’m a fucking human being.

[whump-me-baby-one-more-time]

Let's talk about leg whump!

- Want an injury that isn't lethal if left untreated but hurts like hell? Want something non-fatal that will nonetheless incapacitate Whumpee for days or even months to come? Search no more! Leg whump has it all!

- Broken legs! So much fun to torture Whumpee with, as they're excruciatingly painful and will *not* let you forget about them for even a moment unless you're seriously numbed out. Usually not serious enough to kill Whumpee, even if left unattended for weeks, it will make every movement from there on out a hassle.

- Wanna run away? With a broken leg? Oh joy! Maybe, *maybe*, depending on the fracture and Whumpee's determination / pain tolerance, they can still walk on it, but it's more of a hobble than anything else and it *hurts*.

- Broken bones can still puncture skin and tissue if fractured badly enough, so if you want Whumpee to slowly and miserably bleed out, leg whump has you covered as well.

- Speaking of bleeding out: Shot In The Leg is such a good trope, don't even get me started. Potentially fatal, it can immediately take out Whumpee as their leg crumbles under them and pain flashes through their entire body. Severed arteries aside, this one is a lovely way of putting your Whumpee in a situation where death from blood loss isn't immediate, thus giving you the opportunity to let Whumpee suffer for hours without any medical aid available.

- Shock! Listen, I've almost passed out once from a sprained ankle. The pain was barely worth mentioning but something inside of me tensed and twisted up so much from the shock of getting hurt and suddenly not being able to walk properly anymore that I couldn't stand up for over an hour without getting extremely dizzy and seeing spots.

(This can very well include vomiting, passing out, violent shaking, cold sweats, uncontrollable crying and so much more that will leave Whumpee in shambles and humiliated. Shock takes a lot of different forms and they're all valid, I just want to point out that being immobilised suddenly and violently would definitely be a good reason to go into shock, even with minor injuries.)

- On that note: Sprained ankles! If you want Whumpee to have to be carried around by Caretaker but don't actually want them to be in grave danger, this is the way to go. Sprained ankles are so good, holy shit. Nasty swelling, bruises, constant discomfort and pain - it's Whump heaven. Not being able to walk around because of such a "minor" injury would also very likely piss off Whumpee to no end.

(When I sprained my ankle and had to take a break from training for a while, I was already fed up by day two. Also, having to have someone do so much stuff for you can be extremely stressful for someone who already feels like a burden. Self-blame, guilt, anger at themselves for not healing quickly enough, constantly wanting to apologise for being "such a pain" - all of that, without any serious threat to Whumpee, is what Sprained Ankles can do for you!)

- Sprained ankles hurt even when you're lying down. You laughed and your leg moved? Ow. You sneezed and your foot tensed up? That bitch is gonna be giving you hell for a couple of minutes now. Someone accidentally bumped into it? Whoops, you're choking down tears before they even had the chance to apologise. Got a cat? Got a cat that likes to lay on your legs or feet? Have fun!

- Leg amputations are very valid but I feel like they deserve their own post, hence they don't really feature here.

- Just. Whumpee, writhing on the floor because of a fucked up leg or foot while Whumper slowly walks up to them, knowing exactly that Whumpee can't escape.

- Whumper pushing their heel down on the injury, causing Whumpee to scream in agony. That small, twisted smile on Whumper's face at having so much power over Whumpee with so little effort.

- Whumper forcing Whumpee to get up, maybe pulling them onto their knees or dragging them up onto their feet with brutal force. Whumpee choking on more screams or whimpers or pleas of mercy as their weight comes down on their broken/shot/twisted/stabbed/sprained leg.

- Caretaker tries to rescue Whumpee, but they didn't expect Whumpee to be unable to walk. How will they fight off Whumper's lackeys while carrying Whumpee out? Can they even carry Whumpee? (With some luck Whumpee will be starved and emaciated enough at that point for Caretaker to carry them easily.)

- Caretaker has to put Whumpee down for a moment and Whumpee just. Drops to the floor from the agony. Bloody fingers wrapped around edges of furniture, knocking things off of tables, hoarse whimpers as Caretaker picks them up...

- Not convinced yet? Just think of how much Whump a badly healed leg can cause! Including, but not limited to:  Limping, constant need of painkillers, limited mobility, heightened sensitivity,  a ceaseless reminder of the hell they've been through-

- Just... Leg whump 😩👌

[lils-of-the-valley]

Kiss It Better

It was 1 am and I just wanted to write dumb skater boys kissing. I miss writing kisses and they should kiss and be happy and in love. They are in love, but they should also kiss. (Also I'm on mobile so I hope the read more works)

Edit: I forgot to put the AO3 link here Can y'all tell how exhausted I am?

Reki was no stranger to injuries. Really, it was concerning the number of times he had ended up in an emergency room after a skateboarding accident. But the pain barely fazed him anymore, especially not the minor pain of scrapes and bruises. At this point, it was a daily occurrence, either from bailing while skating or from ramming his hip into the corner of a table. The latter was a little more frustrating though.

“Dude, you don’t have to make such a big deal out of it!”

Big blue eyes stared blankly at Reki before diving back into his backpack, rummaging through it. Reki sighed as he leaned back against the concrete, propped up on his elbows, his head hanging back. Langa was being dramatic as ever, making a huge deal out of what was essentially nothing more than a little scrape on Reki’s left hand. Sure, there had been a bit of blood, but the cut was barely visible! It wasn’t anything to panic over. Yet, Langa had insisted that Reki stayed put, right where he had fallen, while he hauled the backpack back to Reki before plopping himself down onto the concrete. He sat cross-legged in front of Reki while he dug through the bag, muttering something about alcohol pads and bandages.

“Those band-aids are for you,” Reki said, his eyes fixated on the swirls of reds and oranges and purples in the sky. The sun had started to set, it seemed. “Since you can’t stand the sight of your own blood. Unlike you, I can handle it. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t need patching up.”

“And I say you do.”

The firmness of Langa’s voice drew Reki’s attention back to him, his piercing blue eyes sending shivers down the boy’s spine. There was something demanding in Langa’s voice, something protective, something… pleading? Langa was worried about him? Given the way he was looking at Reki, it had to be. And Reki couldn’t refuse him, not when he was looking like that.

“Fine!”

Reki huffed as he finally let his body flop down onto the ground. Langa seemed content with the answer, returning to his scavenger hunt through Reki’s bag. This meant that Reki would have to occupy himself without his skateboard since he wasn’t allowed to get onto it until he was fully patched up. Thankfully, the ever-changing clouds in the sky were distracting enough. A bunny. A dolphin. A flower. A-

“Found them!”

A blue sky stared back at Reki, startling the boy. Langa hovered above him, holding a few sealed bandages in front of Reki’s face, a boyish grin contrasting his usual reserved and serious expression. A boyish grin that made Reki’s inside twist, his throat turning dry. He knew he could touch, that Langa wasn’t some porcelain doll that would shatter under his calloused fingers. He knew he could touch, that Langa would never refuse him the pleasure of passing his fingers through the silky blue hair, the pleasure of touching that beautiful pale skin, the pleasure of feeling those soft lips, but still, Reki resisted. Still, Reki held back.

He pressed his palm to Langa’s chest, pushing him away ever so slightly as he pushed himself up on his elbows once more, his eyes avoiding Langa’s general direction.

“Again, I don’t actually need them. The scrapes will be gone in the morning; no use in wasting band-aids on that.”

“But I want to do it for you.” A beat of silence. Then Langa was ducking his head, the blue silk falling in his face and drawing Reki’s eyes back to him. “You know, since you always patch me up after I bail? I want to do that for you. I want to take care of you, Reki.”

Oh! Reki’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, now that was adorable.

How was Reki supposed to turn Langa away when he sounded like that? Looked like that? How could Reki refuse Langa who seemed so small, so vulnerable, and oh so adorable? It was simply impossible. So Reki gave in, gave in like he always did because it was Langa asking and Langa could get him to do anything.

“Fine! Fine!” Reki sat up, presenting his scraped hand to a starry-eyed Langa. “But only because you’re cute.”

“No!” Was that a pout? “You’re the cute one.”

Reki couldn’t help but giggle at the boy. To think that the stoic and socially awkward boy he had met only a little over a year ago could end up being an absolute dork, a dork pouting because he was called cute. Reki never would have believed it if someone had told him that this would be his normal. Reki never would have believed it if someone had told him that Langa would turn out to be this dorky yet adorable boyfriend. His dorky yet adorable boyfriend.

“Well? Are you going to patch me up or are you gonna stare at me all wide-eyed until the scrapes disappear on their own?”

Langa blinked a few times before quickly turning his attention to Reki’s outstretched hand, a ghost of a touch fluttering over the scrapes. Hesitantly, he glanced between Reki’s face and his hand before carefully pulling out an alcohol swab from the makeshift first-aid kit Reki carried everywhere he went. It was pretty obvious that Langa was not in his comfort zone, not used to be the one cleaning wounds. His hands shook ever so slightly as he wiped Reki’s hands clean, but it was the gesture that counted. It didn’t have to be perfect because as long as it was from Langa, then Reki would smile ever so softly as he watched him put on a band-aid with the utmost concentration. It was the kindness and the care that had Reki fall a little more in love with the boy in front of him. It was the little things that made his heart melt.

“And,” Langa pressed one last band-aid to Reki’s palm, his long fingers passing over the fabric before curling around Reki’s, “all done. All clean.”

“Thanks, man.”

As Reki pulled his hand back, Langa’s grip tightened as he tugged the hand back towards him, surprising Reki. He felt his whole face heat up as Langa planted a kiss right in the middle of his palm, slow and careful. Reki barely felt the kiss, but he could see it happening. And he could feel it in his face, the fire that had ignited in his cheeks, in his ears, in his brain. And when Langa’s eyes met Reki’s, lips still pressed against the calloused tanned skin, a smile played on his pretty lips, a smile that drove Reki crazy.

“Kissing it better,” Langa clarified. “You always insist on the magic of kissing it better.”

“You…”

Reki huffed, finally managing to pull his hand back and holding it defensively to his chest. Langa knew what he doing to Reki. He knew that he was the reason why Reki’s face must have matched his hair. He was fully aware that it was entirely his fault and the bastard still had the audacity of looking smug about it.

Reki felt his stomach flip as Langa crawled over him, his weight in Reki’s lap while his arms caged the boy. Something glinted in those blue eyes, something Reki had never seen before. Something that terrified him, but also strangely… exciting?

“Well,” Langa licked at his lips as he glanced down at Reki’s lips, sending an electric shock down the boy’s back, “I could always give you a real kiss if you like.”

Reki’s mind short-circuited at the thought of having Langa’s hot mouth against his. He wanted, he wanted it so badly, but his body tensed at the mere thought of it. He wanted, he wanted with fiber of his body, but he shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“I’ll be real good, I promise.”

“Okay!” Reki half-shouted in embarrassment. He had felt his eyes go wide at Langa’s suggestive tone. He had felt the twist in his gut. His face, his whole body burned as he pressed his hands to Langa’s mouth, pushing him away. Langa laughed against his hand, pretty and muffled. “Man, you can’t just say that to me! You-! I-! Dude! No!”

Reki’s hands dropped onto his lap, squeezed between his thighs while Langa straightened out, still sitting on Reki’s lap. He was laughing, hearty and unguarded, which made Reki’s heart flip. His face was also flushed, his pale skin tinted with reds and pinks. He was so beautiful. Langa was just so beautiful.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he managed to huff out, finally calming his laughter. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Something twisted in Reki once more, though this time it felt more guilty than anything. He just wasn’t particularly good with PDA. Sure, he knew he was an extremely tactile person, his hand constantly brushing against Langa’s, their shoulders bumping as they walked side by side, but everything he did, it could be interpreted as just bros being good ol’ platonic buddies. He had always been a touchy-feely person, especially with Langa, but still, it wasn’t easy being affectionate in a romantic sense. Just holding hands made his hands all sweaty and gross, his nerves getting the best of him. And god forbid they actually kissed in public-! No, Reki wasn’t ready for that. It was just too much. Just the thought was overwhelming him.

“Sorry.” Langa’s voice had gone quiet as he shifted on Reki’s lap. Reki could see he was reluctant to move but ready to do so regardless. “I really didn’t mean to…”

“S’fine, dude. I’m just… public.”

The wind caught in Langa’s hair, pushing it out of his face as he quickly glanced around the dark skatepark. How was he so effortlessly beautiful? How was Langa so damn beautiful all the freaking time? How was it that even under the shitty streetlamp, he still looked like a prince straight out of a fairy-tale? And when he looked at Reki like he was also beautiful, as if he were the only person in the world, it made him melt. Those blue eyes were only for him. Only Kyan Reki would ever get to look into them like this, see the way they sparkled like snowflakes under a bright sun.

“There’s no one around?”

Oh. Was that hope in Langa’s eyes? In his voice? Was it desire? Want? Need? Langa who, despite being reckless and shameless, was always so reserved and good, did he really want to kiss Reki that badly? And since there was no one around… Maybe it would be alright? It wasn’t like they would be interrupted or caught. No one came around this part of town, especially not at this hour.

Reki’s eyes skirted over the deserted skatepark once last time before finding Langa’s eyes once more.

“Just one.”

“Really?” Excitement, that’s what made Langa’s voice just a tad higher than usual.

“You get one kiss. That’s it.”

A grin broke across Langa’s face once more, a grin that made him glow. “Isn’t that what you always say?” Reki sent Langa a look of disapproval to which he answered by putting his hands up defensively. “Fine, fine, just one. If you can stop.”

Reki sighed at the boy before tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

A breathless laugh broke from Langa’s lips before pressing them to Reki’s. Langa was like a drug; his kisses were the most addicting thing Reki had ever come across and it only took one for him to be hooked. His taste filled Reki, his sweetness hazing Reki’s mind. It wasn’t the first time he kissed Langa – it had already been weeks since their first kiss, clumsy in the middle of a shitty movie – but it didn’t mean it didn’t feel completely new each time. It had been weeks since that first kiss, but Reki just couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend’s mouth, of his kisses, of his touch. Especially not when Langa was licking at the seam of Reki’s lips, asking to be let in.

Everything happened in a blissful daze: the arms wrapping around Langa’s neck, the beckoning him closer if that were even possible, the slight fumbling to get comfortable, and the falling back onto the concrete, legs tangling as they always did. Sure, the cold ground wasn’t nearly as comfortable as a mattress, but with Langa’s arms acting like a pillow for Reki’s head, it didn’t matter. Everything was good, so good. It was so good, the feeling of Langa’s short, hot pants between the kisses. It was so good, the mumbling against each other's mouths, their names filling the little air between them. But nothing beat having their lips pressed together, wanting, needing the other. Nothing could ever beat that feeling.

Reki wasn’t proud of the whimper that left his lips as Langa pulled back completely, sitting up. The smirk was a cruel temptation. Langa was no fool; he knew damn well that he was torturing Reki as he shifted in his lap, his whole weight pressed into Reki’s thighs.

“You said one kiss, so,” Langa shrugged, lips pressed in a thin line.

“That was more than one, you fucking tease,” Reki muttered as he propped himself up on his elbows for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

“Pulling out the big, bad words, huh?” A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Reki’s lips. Another whimper. Maybe even a moan. Reki wasn’t sure; he just knew he wanted more. “Wanna come over instead? Get some food, put on a movie, probably not watch the movie at all but it doesn’t matter since my mom isn’t-!”

“You stopped kissing me because you’re hungry?”

Laughter fell from Reki’s lips like the stars against the mid-August sky as his forehead hit Langa’s shoulder. He should have known. Langa had seemed hungry for both love-filled kisses and actual food.

Instinctively, Reki’s arms wrapped around the body against which he was pressed, feeling the light rumble of laughter and potentially of an empty stomach against his own body. Langa was warm. He was comfortable. He was safe. Langa was… home.

“Can we watch Spirited Away in your bed? No offense man, but your couch is shit to make out on.”

“You…” Langa shifted, causing Reki to peel himself off of him and look up at him. “You want to watch a kid’s movie while we make out?”

“It’s a good movie! And I’ve seen it like a hundred times, so I won’t be tempted to actually watch it.”

“No. I know you.” Langa’s hands found their way to Reki’s cheeks, holding his face ever so gently. “You’re gonna end up watching it. Again. For the third time this month.”

“Look! Look, it’s not my fault it constantly plays at my place! Chihiro just… she likes the movie because the main character has the same name as her. And I like it because… it’s good, man. Don’t hate on a good movie!”

Langa inhaled sharply, his eyes closed and his hands pressed against his lips. He looked like he was praying to whatever God was out there to hear him. “I can’t believe my boyfriend wants to make out with me while his little sister’s favorite movie plays in the background.”

“Well,” Reki shrugged and flopped back down on the ground, crossing his arms behind his head, “we could also not make out, I don’t care. It would be your loss, man.”

“No!” Langa was once more caging Reki with his arms, but this time, it wasn’t Reki that was panicking. “There is no fucking way I’m letting you off the hook that easily. You-!”

It was always so much fun cutting Langa off with kisses when he got a little too chatty. Every time, it would catch him off guard, his eyes growing three sizes for a fraction of a second before squeezing them shut. And his pale cheeks always turn a bright red, a color that, surprisingly, didn’t often blossom under his skin. Langa was almost always the one initiating the kisses, so having Reki be the one pushing himself up to catch his lips, it always left him a mess. Reki’s surprise kisses turned Stoic Langa, Cold Langa, Ice Prince Langa into this mess of dork, this stuttering and blushing mess of boyfriend.

Reki traced the line of Langa’s jaw, his eyes following the movement of his fingers. He had quickly learned that Langa melted at the touch, which made it a lot easier to convince him to do whatever it was Reki wanted. “You pick the food and I pick the movie or no more kisses for you.”

“Can it at least be Howl’s Moving Castle? I know you like that one too, but at least I won’t have the image of your little sisters seared into my mind while I try to kiss you senseless.”

“Fine, fine.” Reki’s fingers hooked Langa’s chin, beckoning him closer to press another kiss to his mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Reki.” One kiss. “So much.” Two kisses. “Infinitely.”

[crippleprophet]

Sorry to bother you but I had a few questions I was hoping to get help with. I just started using a cane but I’m only 16 and I feel really embarrassed about it. Does it ever get easier/less embarrassing? Also is there any way to ease pain on my hand while I’m using the cane? (I already have a gel grip) I have pain in both legs but it’s worse on my right, so I lead with my left, but that’s just making my left leg hurt more. I can’t lead with my right though, it can barely take any weight. Will my leg get used to it eventually or is there something else I could do to help? Sorry this ask is so long, I didn’t really know where else to ask these questions. Thank you so much!

you’re not bothering me at all, & no need to apologize! 🖤 i’m glad you were able to get a cane and i hope it’s been helpful! i’m sorry about those problems though, i relate to that with my experience starting to use one. i didn’t get a cane until my first semester of college but i used axillary crutches on and off for about 2 years in high school and people were really shitty about that so i can only imagine :\ i’m happy to give my input on each of your questions, but obligatory heads up that i’m certainly not an expert - i’m coming from 3 1/2 years as a cane user (in addition to other mobility aids), undergraduate coursework & research on mobility, and half a semester of graduate-level biomechanics.

1) embarrassment: god, i feel this, and i’m so sorry you’re going through that. the short answer is yes, it absolutely gets easier, or at least it did for me, and several factors affected that - the people in your day to day life get over the novelty of it after a while, so for me now the staring is only particularly bad in august-september when a freshman class who hasn’t yet seen me in all my crippled glory comes to campus, and i also learned to cope with it better. one thing that’s really helpful for me has been reading theory or personal essays about similar experiences; there’s all sorts of research on stigma and the politics of staring, and the title of one article called “one lady was so busy staring at me she walked into a wall” made me cry because it was such a relief to not be the only one.

it’s okay to mourn the ability to go out in public without being forcibly made a spectacle, but remember that it’s their fault, not yours. you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re doing something very good; you are taking care of your body in the best way you know how. it’s so frustrating that we’re the ones made to feel ashamed, when ableists are the ones doing such shameful behaviors. i think really often of the “no shame even in shame” post (link) by tai, the founder of cripple punk, and i have stickers on my crutches that say that phrase; it’s been really helpful for me to accept my emotions as they are and allow myself to go through the full spectrum of reactions to an honestly really traumatizing treatment by society & forced separation from my own body.

for me, i still get angry when people are rude to me because i’m a mobility aid user, and i doubt that’ll ever go away and don’t necessarily want it to, but i’m at a point now where i just could not give a shit about their opinion of me, and i’m no longer embarrassed about my body and its needs. this is how i work, take it or leave it. and it’s honestly such a joy and comfort to be fairly firm in that belief, and i hope you reach a place that brings you similar comfort & reassurance 🖤

a couple of sentiments that sustain me in bad days are this sweatshirt (link) by @possum-butch and this art piece (link) by @solstice-snakes. just in general remembering that other people experience this and are hurt by it and rage against it, that i’m not alone. a researcher studying stigma wrote about “the relief of self-isolation” for marginalized people, that exhale when you’re alone and no longer have to experience any hostility, and that resonates so deeply with me. you aren’t overreacting; it’s so understandable that you would feel embarrassed about something people around you, the media, and society at large are trying to tell you is embarrassing. and it’s okay to decide not to interact with people (to the extent of your ability) on the basis of how they make you feel about your body. what you’re experiencing is incredibly difficult, and it’s okay to feel strongly about the injustice of that, and this doesn’t fix it, but i genuinely do think it will get better with time.

2) hand pain: to a certain extent mine got better after about 2-3 weeks using it, it felt a bit worse/sharper than like usual sore muscles and then it calmed down once my body got used to it i guess, and now it only happens after extended periods of time. if yours is worse than that or has been around for longer, though, i’d try to make some changes. also, if you experience any significant or lingering wrist pain, talk to a doctor if possible or try to look it up as best you can because using mobility aids that put weight into your wrist can potentially cause carpal tunnel or other issues (which thankfully isn’t a problem i’ve encountered)

you could try a foam handle grip, it has thicker cushion but not as much give which is why i like the gel grip better, and the texture gets gross and slippery when wet so if you’re in a rainy area that might not be a good call. a different cane tip might help because some of them are designed for better shock absorption, ergonomics, and what not, but i don’t have any specific recommendations - folks reading this, feel free to reply with recs or any other suggestions!

3) leg pain on better side: i had a similar leg pain problem where my ‘good leg’ got worse because i was leading with it. i ended up switching to using forearm crutches (specifically Smart Crutches) after about 9 months because of that and my chronic pain getting worse overall, and that was a good call for me, so that could be an option. even though almost every crutch users still walks leading with one leg, they’re more effective at bilateral pain relief and stability.

it’s okay if it’s intimidating to think about changing mobility aids that soon after starting to use one, though, and losing the option of one free hand makes a big difference, so that might not be the right call for you as an individual; it depends. getting a brace (or a better one, if you already use one) for your left leg could help support it - that’d be a whole post unto itself, but if you or anyone else reading this need a comparison of over-the-counter knee braces, i’ve tried so many kinds and am literally doing a class project on that right now lol. shoes with thicker soles and better shock absorption can also help.

the way people with lower limb pain on one side or that’s worse on one side walk is called antalgic gait - we put more weight on the leg that’s less painful and have a shorter stance phase on that side (the part of walking where all your weight is on that leg as the other leg swings forward). when i started using a cane, this pattern of my gait actually reversed; i started putting more weight on my more painful leg and taking longer steps with that side because the cane was supporting it, and had a shorter stance phase on my less painful side.

it’s possible, to a certain extent, to make those kinds of changes intentionally, but that’s the kind of decision that should be very informed and really carefully weighed. every part of your body affects every other part, so the way you move your legs affects the angle of your hips which in turn affects your spine, and the unfortunate nature of the beast is that adapting to one form of chronic pain can easily cause another. that being said, i haven’t had that problem or specifically learned about negative effects from that particular gait pattern, but if you search “effects of antalgic gait” it’s hard to find anything that isn’t treating a limp as a problem in and of itself because of being visibly disabled, so finding useful information is not ideal.

at least from my personal experience, i would recommend that you not assume the left leg pain from leading is going to get better on its own unless it’s been less than 3-4 weeks or so (although you aren’t obligated to wait that long to try to do something about it; being in worse pain sucks). if you’re using a cane regularly, there will definitely be some soreness and stuff at first, but your body will likely adapt relatively quickly and those will go away, so if you’re past that stage, i’d recommend looking into solutions so you hopefully don’t have to deal with that long(er)-term.

i hope that helps! i started experiencing chronic leg pain when i was 16 so this ask resonated with me really personally, i’m totally open to talking more about this if there are any more asks you want to send or questions you have (& that goes for folks reading this, too!) i really believe that when the system fails us we’ve gotta depend on each other, and the medical system has really failed us, so if possible i want to help out however i can 🖤

[famouskittychild]

Cheeky mandos - Getting seated

Prolouge

One - ...and we're off

Two - Tea for two

Word count: 2384

Summary: Some fighting and heart-to-heart in this one :)

Rating: M

CW: injury, injury treatment, (non-sexual) physical contact, some angst and feals if we squint

Author's note: I edited this on my mobile and can't put a "keep reading" break in there sorry :/ Edit: fixed it :)

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Cheeky Mandos - Three: Getting seated

The next covert is the last that you got information about, and it turns into something of a mess. You leave the spacedock just after sunset and a band of thugs picks a fight at a nearby alleyway. They want the beskar, even though its value has been steadily dropping lately after the huge spike before. You still wander what the kriff had caused that.

The two of you make short work of them. The stranger’s - Djarin, you remind yourself - fighting style seems to be taking blaster bolts with his beskar, smashing in heads and peppering it with precise blaster shots. You use the traditional weapon of armourers, a lean hammer with a long shaft - the only thing that might give your occupation away if someone knows what to look for. You’ve garnished the hammer with an electro-pulse emitter for greater efficiency but don’t use that now. Your opponents are not enough of a threat to warrant it.

They get away easy, considering your team of two could’ve simply killed them all; they end up laying on the ground with a few broken bones and several concussions, and you walk away before they can even look up. Only communicating with battle-words, moving around in the shadows, you put distance between them while also separating randomly and criss-crossing the streets to throw off anyone who tries to follow.

When the two of you finally stop and Djarin steps up beside you near a bridge, he remarks quietly.

“That was good fighting together.”

That’s when it occurs to you that whilst there were a few scrapes and the odd punch or drunken challenger before, this was your first real fight together. And the two of you worked seamlessly. Mandalorians have a set of training methodology that was passed down through countless generations and ensured that even people from the most different groups could work together like cogs in a machine. It happens all the time, but it still surprises you how well it went with the stranger. Djarin.

“It was.” You smile, and for once he can’t see it under your visor.

**

You find the covert and whilst they are welcoming when they see your armours, once you and Din start to talk to them, they are quite reluctant. They don’t want to go back to your ship, to your forge, and they barely listen to Djarin. It’s not the coldest reaction ever, but it’s still quite a work to get through to them. You arrange the time when they’ll visit the ship if they want to, then leave, being led through a different exit to where you came from.

By the time you get back to the docks, it’s swarming with gangs. They are badly trained, if at all, and rely on numbers and intimidating the weak. Most of them you dodge without a problem, but a better organized group does slow the two of you down. Not much longer than the afternoon gang did, though; until something knocks the air out of your lungs and you lurch forward, gasping. You are only down and disoriented for a few seconds but that’s enough to get kicked once, and shot twice in the beskar. When you straighten up, blaster in hand, you look for targets. The stranger is blocking the way, shielding you effectively so you twirl to the other side and quickly find the sharpshooter on a roof.

You use the battle code to tell Djarin the sniper’s location, and hope he understands why. He’s a better shot and has a better rifle. The next moment you see him move, and you automatically make the counter-move, to switch places. There’s still about half a dozen people on this side of the yard, trying to get your beskar, scattered around. Than you hear Djarin’s rifle going off; the sharpshooter is taken care of.

From then on, it’s a routine job of mopping up those that aren’t clever enough to run away. No need to chase them down as you’ll be gone, and the local covert is well hidden.

**

The docks are quiet and the Brick sits untouched in the row of ships were it was left. Your usual security routine comes up clean - those local thugs obliviously weren't sophisticated enough to figure out which ship is yours. Now that you’re on board, even a sustained siege wouldn’t be a problem. You just hope the noise won’t make the covert change their mind about their appointment.

You are doing your usual rounds around the ship, checking for anything out of place, when Djarin catches up with you.

“You are injured.” Not a question, and you stop in your tracks. That kick came from some kind of clawed feet or boot, you can feel the sting of a slash on your thigh. You reckon to still have a good fifteen minutes before it will really start to bother you.

“Maybe? Whatever, it’s not serious. I’ll finish the checks first” you tell him, and the black in silver visor keeps staring at you for a long moment. You turn away and expect him to leave.

He hovers around.

It’s kind of annoying, having him look over your shoulder. What does he expect, that you’ll just faint at one point from blood loss? You know yourself better. And if he was travelling alone too, he should know just as well that you’re familiar with your own limits.

Eventually you run out of tasks and sit down in the common room, at the booth with the game table. There’s no medbay on the ship; an alcove with a bunk and cabinets for supplies serves as a first aid station, just off the galley and near the booth.

“Let me help” Djarin says, and doesn’t wait for answer. He is sliding open cabinet doors and taking out boxes of supplies. You try not to sigh in exasperation.

“It’s only a scratch. I can handle it myself. As you should know from your own experience” you add, unable to resist reminding him. You don’t need pampering, just as he wouldn’t either.

“Yeah, you’re telling yourself so? That’s way too much blood for a scratch” he rasps, and you are surprised by his voice. It sounds… nervous? And he speaks a bit faster than usual.

You look down on your leg and see what made him worried. One leg of your trouser is a mess; there’s a gash on the outside of your thigh just beside the edge of the beskar plate, and the fabric of your undersuit is soaked with blood down to your boots. Now that you think about it, you do feel a little more light headed than it is advisable.

“Oh kriff” you mumble. Djarin turns his head towards you, and you explain. “It will be a pain in the neck to wash that all out. I hope I have enough soap. Bloody brilliant.”

He sighs, and you wonder why. He should know about that aspect, too. Wounds are one thing, especially if you have a safe place to lay low and enough bacta, and you have both now. Washing blood out of fabric? A right royal pain.

He motions towards the bunk with his hand.

“You should lay down. You lost a lot of blood.”

“Is that an instruction? It sounds like instruction. I can handle myself, Djarin, just as you can.” You feel your temper rising. Does he think you’re weak? Because you asked him to take that shot? “Just leave, we need to keep an eye on our surroundings anyways, I can take care of a stupid cut. ”

“I know you can. But you don’t have to.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, and looks to the side. “Accepting help is not a weakness. It’s just part of teamwork.”

You set your jaw, and now you are getting suspicious. Is he trying to get you incapacitated? To take the ship? You’ve run out of leads to known coverts, he has no use for you anymore really. Is this the moment he shows his true colours? A weight drops in your stomach and you feel a pang of sadness for some reason. Your head is a bit dizzy, and you know you do have to lay down, and soon. Than you catch your own thoughts. What are you thinking? He could’ve done anything with you or your ship, any time you were asleep. He could’ve turned on you when you were neck deep in some repair work or at your forge. He never did. It’s just you and a lifetime - and heritage - of having to be always on your guard.

He holds out a jar of bacta for you. You take it, and it’s an effort not to drop your arm too quickly under the weight that normally wouldn’t be a bother. You fiddle with the lid, arms feeling like lead. You know you’ll have to clean the wound first, and you have to gather your strength to do that. You don’t want him around, helpful or not, trustworthy or not.

The knot is still in your stomach, and you refuse to examine why.

“If you let me help and then take a nap, you’ll get better much faster. You know that.” He pauses, and nods at himself before continuing, as if he has to persuade himself to keep talking. “I had to learn that again, too, when I made some friends recently. To let them help.”

You are still unwilling, and just want him gone so you can get on with getting better, but that makes you think.

“Is that why you are sad sometimes? You miss your friends.” You wanted that to be a question, but you’re getting weak. And that gash is starting to turn from annoying burn to stabbing pain.

He takes a breath. He goes into that pensive, sadness kind of state of his. You can see it as his chest expands, you can hear the quiet crackling noise barely picked up by his helmet’s microphone: that something in him that you could never explain fully. You half expect him to push the medkit in your hand and leave as you’ve requested. It’s a surprise when he speaks again.

“I took care of a foundling for a while. Until I could give him back to his people, as I was quested to do.” He says that the same way he told you about his droid problem. A few words that speak volumes. Voice strained, as if just wanting to get the words out. The pain from it all knocks the air from you, just like it did then. Why do people have to go through so much grief?

He takes another deep breath, and opens the box with the wound cleaning stuff.

“I still miss him. But I have friends now. I won’t be alone anymore, like I was before him.”

His voice is raspy and clipped and strained, and you are thankful he has the helmet to hide behind. You try to think about what to say.

“Thank you for trusting me. To tell this” you add, as he turns towards you, black visor somehow friendlier than ever. You think about asking him to help, but he just goes to do that anyways. As he cuts the fabric and cleans your wound, the burn of the antiseptic is a welcome pain - the first step to healing. He takes back the jar of bacta from you and you almost doze off after. Then you feel his palm on your thigh.

“Move your leg a bit please” his voice wakes you up from half sleep, and you look at what he might mean. He gently nudges your thigh and dips his head to the side, trying to see the whole length of the cut. All you can focus on is the faint burn of the antiseptic working, and the warmth of his gloved hand on your skin. You wish he had his glove off like when you fixed that problem with Toots.

The uneasiness, the lead from your stomach, vanishes completely. Instead, with each passing second he spends tending you, one hand on your skin, the other smoothing bacta on around your wound, you feel warmth creeping up your neck.

“All right, almost finished. Just the bandages left.” The helmet tilts up, looking at your face. You realize too late your face must be all drowsy. “You all right there? Just a few more minutes, than you can lay down and rest.”

He nudges your leg around a bit while juggling the gauze, and keeps glancing up from his work. You try to smile and look alert, but his glances are a bit distracting in your light headed state. By the time he finishes bandaging your wound, your ears feel like being aflame and you’re all flustered. Is it the blood loss? Not having been touched for a good while now? Being touched by him? Whichever it is, you know you need to get your act together.

He looks up at you every time when he asks something or when he tells you what he’s going to do next. It’s because he wants to check that you’re still conscious, you tell yourself. You’d do the same. Than some little devil whispers in your ear. He did the same when you worked on your astromech together, and you weren’t injured back than. He looked at you straight on, giving you all his attention, when you two had that banter about tea. In general, he steps closer and faces you head on more and more as time passes, unlike in the beginning when he was standing off to the side and barely looked at your general direction. Is that just how he is? Just needed time getting comfortable with a travelling companion?

Or is it just for you?

Your hunch says it’s for you. It’s not like you haven’t had relationships before or had people been interested in you. You might try to talk it away to guard yourself, but you know what this is. You noticed things like this happening. The question is, will this be all?

Time will tell, and soon. You just have to keep yourself from thinking about things too much until then.

.

.

[dreamwithoutreason]

Really need people to understand that there is a difference between your diagnosis being stigmatized (what usually happens with mental illness) and your diagnosis resulting in you being subjected to ableism (disability) because those two things are a bit different and the distinction is important.

I want to start by saying that I am in no way attempting to minimize the struggles that mentally ill people face. I am mentally ill and have depression, anxiety, and ADHD as well as a physical disability, Cerebral Palsy. The line between the struggles of people with mental illnesses and the struggles of disabled people is thin but there is still a line. I just want to highlight some of the ways that disabled people are especially discriminated against in a world built and run by abled people and how that can be different from how mental ill people experience alienation or stigmatization. These differences are also why I think that comparing a mental illness to a disability can be problematic. I am, however, also aware that there is overlap and that some diagnoses can be considered to have a foot in both arenas, this is in no way meant to be a hard and fast rule. I also don't claim to speak for the entire disabled community but a lot of the things under the ableism list are things that I've experienced myself which is the place that this post is coming from. I want people to realize that ableism is more than stigmatization and that it is engrained in the world that we live in.

Stigmatization comes from people misunderstanding your illness and how seriously it can impact you and your life. I would consider stigmatization to be things like:

People using your diagnosis as an insult or joke, further stigmatizing it. Ex: When ppl say things like "I'm so ocd" or "I'm so bipolar"

People ignoring your symptoms or attributing your symptoms to your character. For example, instead of recognizing the symptoms of your illness like executive dysfunction, someone might just call you lazy.

General lack of understanding or sympathy towards mentally ill people

Lack of accurate representations of mental illnesses in media. Most of the time the character with the mental illness is made to be the villain or antagonist. Once again, very stigmatizing and gross.

Also, for both mentally ill and disabled people it can sometimes be difficult or expensive to get the right medications you need.

Examples of everyday ableism and systematic ableism that's ingrained in our society which particularly affects disabled people include:

Someone using derogatory language to belittle and degrade your existence as a person. It positions you as less than. Can often be a targetted, direct attack at a disabled person. Ex: the r slur, words like "cripple", and using "deaf", "blind", or "disabled" as insults.

Mocking the way someone walks, moves, speaks, or exists as a disabled person.

No one taking you seriously because you are disabled/being subjected to infantilization. People assuming that you can't do anything for yourself.

Able-bodied people assuming the needs of a disabled person without asking them. Often this comes from a place of trying to be helpful but make sure you always ask what you can do to accommodate someone before assuming what they might need help with because it can be infantilizing

Example: I've had a lot of people assume that I need help putting on a jacket or getting my shoes on so they automatically start helping me with it and they basically end up treating me like a child because they assume that I can't do something.

People touching you or your equipment or mobility aids without your consent. Mobility aids can be like extensions of our body so do not touch them without our permission. This urge to violate a disabled person's space comes from the subconscious assumption that disabled people don't have their own autonomy.

Example: many times when I was a full-time wheelchair user people would come up behind me and just start pushing my wheelchair without asking or saying anything. Their intention was to help me get where I was going but it was very jarring to suddenly start being pushed without asking.

Being denied a job because you are disabled.

Job applications including physical ability requirements for non-physical or desk jobs to discourage disabled people from applying. Ex: "must be able to lift [x amount] of pounds"

Being denied the accommodations you need to be able to function in a school/work/home/other environment.

Lack of captions or audio descriptions

Being expected to work and move at the same pace as your peers all of the time.

Constantly feeling the need to "prove" yourself to the abled majority.

The idea that being abled is the ideal and that you need to do everything in your power to try to be as close to abled as possible. The idea that you shouldn't be comfortable with your disability. The notion that being disabled cannot be a whole or fulfilling identity.

A good example of this that people don't often think about are the viral videos that are like "Sally worked for months so that she could [struggle] to walk down the aisle at her wedding! Isn't that sweet?" Or the videos of kids feeling pressured to walk across the stage at graduation. These videos imply that struggling to perform ability is somehow better than being comfortably disabled.

The idea that disabled people can't be desirable, attractive, or sexy. The idea that they don't make good romantic partners.

Using disabled people as inspiration porn. This happens a lot with viral videos of disabled people where the comments amount to "if they can live with a disability, then you have no reason to complain about your life!" Disabled people do not exist to inspire you.

Also another personal example but one time in gym class I did more push ups than a girl who was able-bodied so she got all defensive and said "well if she can do that many then I'm gonna do more!" Like girl.... anyways...

Having to jump through a million hoops to get disability benefits. Or being denied disability benefits for arbitrary reasons.

Also once you get disability benefits it's barely anything. Also when you're on benefits you're not allowed to save up money and if you get married you lose benefits. I could make a whole other post about how disabled people are expected to live off of nothing but...

MOBILITY AIDS ARE SO EXPENSIVE HOLY SHIT

The world was built by and for able-bodied people. Architectural/environmental ableism occurs when there are no ramps, no accessible bathroom stalls, no elevators, no disability parking spaces, and/or no space for wheelchairs/mobility aids in public places.

This also happens a lot with public transportation. When I tried using the metro with my friends in DC, I had to have a security guard help me get down the escalator because there wasn't an elevator nearby. Right before I got on it, I saw a man force his wheelchair onto the escalator.

A smaller example but it can be as small as there not being a sidewalk ramp. One time I couldn't even cross the street because there was no sidewalk ramp and I was in a wheelchair. Once again, the world was built by able-bodied people.

Eco-ableism. It's when disabled people aren't considered when it comes to environmental activism. The best example of this is the straw debacle that happened last year. Every abled person and their mama wanted to complete ban plastic straws without acknowledging that a lot of disabled people need to use blendable, flexible plastic straws.

Another example that I've witnessed myself has been with automatic doors. I've had to tear down signs at my university that were put on automatic doors that said "save a polar bear, use the other door". Stop blaming disabled people's survival for environmental issues and blame big corporations.

Almost a complete lack of disability representation in media. Disabled kids don't have many people who they can look up to. I know I didn't have any.

The ableism that comes from abled parents of a disabled child.

For years I was told inaccurate information about my disability by able-bodied people, including my mother. It was only when I started researching my disability myself that I actually began to understand it.

Related to the previous point, lack of information or knowledge about certain disabilities

People assuming that just because someone is in a wheelchair that they can't move their legs or walk. This feeds into the idea that disabled people are "faking" their disability. The idea that someone is "faking" can lead people to be attacked or have people tell them that they don't "deserve" things like benefits or parking spaces.

People who straight up pretend they don't see us. I've had so many people try to cut me in line over the years just because they didn't think I would say anything or wanted to pretend they didn't see me.

I have friends who have delayed speech as part of their disability. If you know someone who has delayed speech or a stutter, don't fucking cut them off or try to finish their sentences for them. It's super rude and disrespectful.

DON'T FUCKING SAY THE R WORD. DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT EVEN IF YOU ARE DISABLED! THE R WORD IS SO ABLEIST AND STIGMATIZING STOP SAYING IT! DON'T PUT IT IN YOUR WRITING EITHER!

Lastly, about half of people killed by police have some sort of disability or mental illness. Disability is intersectional and it's important when talking about things like the BLM movement, women's rights, lgbtq+ rights, etc.

Hope this helped you learn something about ableism and how prevalent it is!

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2     Part 4     Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”  

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …                                            

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

****************

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

**************

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

**************

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

*************

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.