#i struggled to even consider it a disability even though it. is disabling

[bloodanddiscoballs]

god what is it with art teachers and being the type to say the most devastating things to their students?

that post i just reblogged reminded me of when I still tried to go to college even though I was undergoing reconstructive spinal surgeries back to back with even having 2 done in one year. I was barely making it through but I was so stuck in wanting to do everything "normally" (and not dealing with my internalized ableism OR the fact that I'm disabled) that I stayed in school way longer than I should have. I was failing and it was devastating because I'd wrapped my whole personhood up within being an artist (something I also worked through later)

and my teachers knew what I was going through but didn't care obviously. they aren't paid to give a fuck and when you're doing everything strictly remote (as it was an online degree to one of the only universities that offered at the time) they don't have a face to be sympathetic to. and I remember I was taking an anatomy class at the same time as a painting class and bombing both of them. my brain was struggling to keep up with even being able to identify the colors because of my brain swelling and I couldn't sit for very long to draw the best figures. so a lot of my turned in stuff was "this IS the best I can do with my blinding pain and inability to even think"

my painting teacher called me lazy because "I wasn't even kind of trying to match the colors" and my figure drawing instructor told me that he didn't think art was my field and that I should seriously consider changing majors. and I remember being so incredibly furious because I was already stuck in that ableist limbo from my parents that "I could still do it all I just needed to try and why aren't you really trying" and now I was getting it from the school as well. I'd literally learned how to walk all over again 3 times by that point (and would go on to learn another 3 more times) so that notion of "you're not trying" finally became so infuriating to me because like YES I WAS. I was trying harder than anyone else I fuckin knew and certainly more than my dumbfuck professors.

But when you're disabled what people really mean is you're a failure For Being Disabled. because if you really cared you'd just be able-bodied. if you really cared you would be Normal and Not A Drain. because look at how easy it is for them, an able-bodied person, to Be Healthy. it surely isn't luck of the draw or access to money or a simple fact of Not Yet. no you're the failure for being disabled and difficult and you just need to snap out of it.

And no place is better to tell you this than schools and work environments

[mars-ipan]

interesting disability mindset development: i think my gaining a “proper” physical disability is making me realize that my anxiety is also very much a real disability that should be taken more seriously

[adhdandcomics]

i’m very sorry that society has made you feel this way about your fellow disabled people. i hope you can reflect on why you believe that other people with worse symptoms than you are bringing down this community and giving us a bad name.

(especially in the context of a vent post that is not indicative of whether or not we are “actually trying” in real life.)

i am also sorry that society makes you believe that in order for disabled people to be respected we have to consistently be working toward a nebulous goal of self improvement and overcoming of disability as to not be perceived as lazy and inconsiderate by the world.

i hope you can be kinder and more patient with yourself and your disability in the future, too.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

eye twitch. big giant eagle TAKE OUT MY FOES!!!!

[shararan]

Havent been able to leave the house to go back to the gaming night hosted once a week with my program.... where they got genshin...... i wanna play fontaine..... and run around with my faves....

[pumpkinstep]

I am once again thinking angry thoughts about how unfair the process for getting on disability is

someone please hit me with their car

[former-incel]

There are two main groups of incels.

One group is the Leaders. Hating women is their identity. They are confident in their hatred of women and know how to carefully phrase their hatred of women in order to get other men to listen. This group includes Andrew Tate. These men theoretically could be autistic but probably less likely than the general population. To these men, the only thing women are good for is sex. They don't even want women to like them. They want to go back to the "good old days" when men could be completely unlikable to women and still get laid because women needed them. Being "friendzoned" is considered a failure. Being flirted with in a way that doesn't lead to sex is considered "being led on". Pickup artists are also included in this group. They object to the suggestion to "hire a hooker" because they believe that women should already be happily serving men without being paid for it.

The other group is the Followers. They have legitimate struggles that they deserve to be angry about but are tricked into directing that anger at women. This group included me when I was a teenager, and in the most extreme case includes Elliot Rodger. These men are very often autistic. They want women to genuinely like them (well, at least they do at first), but struggle to be liked because of a disability or trauma from being bullied. These men will often say that they want sex even though what they want isn't specifically limited to sex, but it likely includes sex and they were likely taught that sex is what they’re supposed to be pursuing. They would benefit from having women as friends and from flirting that doesn't lead to sex, but their struggles in social situations cause them to struggle with that also, not just with getting laid. They often trust pickup artists because they need advice that treats socializing like a science and that acknowledges that it's much harder than just "talk to people", and pickup artists are often the only people who provide that kind of advice. Like the Leaders, they also object to the suggestion to "hire a hooker", but for a different reason. Hiring a hooker would not help them accurately read signs of interest, help them stand up for themself while also acknowledging the needs of others, or help them overcome any of the other reasons why they struggle to form connections with women. Hiring a hooker would only cause them to have sex once then keep craving it while still being just as lost and confused as before. Followers trust the Leaders even though the Leaders do jack shit for them and are only using them to further their hatred of women.

[endearing-dalliance]

She-Ra PoP vs Arcane S2

Physically disabled character considered inferior by his society, abandoned instead of being helped

Technological genius who benefits from having a partner

Uses technology to improve his health and quality of life

Becomes fundamentally altered by a force outside his control (with Christian and cult references)

And now here's where She-Ra and Arcane's messages diverge: Hordak is consistently supported and loved by his partner throughout his journey. She doesn't let up when he tries to hide his pain from her.

She does NOT tell him that he is wrong to try to "fix" himself and actively helps him do so. She recognizes the validity of how he choses to deal with his condition, which was caused by genetic "imperfections" during the cloning process. But she impresses upon him that he does not deserve the physical pain or mental torment of being a "failure".

Her message was that his imperfections do not limit him or define him. They are a part of life, part of the world, and a part of him, and he is not a failure for having them.

Meanwhile in Arcane, Jayce criticizes Viktor for "wanting to cure what he thought were weaknesses" and specifically mentions his leg and disease. The two things that brought him chronic pain, progressively deteriorating quality of life, and one would ultimately kill him. Also, Viktor never actually expressed that he was ashamed of them. We as the audience are left to assume that's how he feels, because why wouldn't he? What else would a disabled person feel? Not that he is perfectly aware that Piltover's oppression and exploitation of his people likely directly contributed to both those issues. Not that he values himself for his intellect and contributions to Hextech even though society constantly prioritized Jayce. Nope, obviously he feels so bad about it that he tries to turn all of humanity into robots. On top of that, Christian Linke has explicitly said the Hexcore corrupted him and Sky was a manifestation of it manipulating him. So even if he did feel that way before, he's still not at fault for what's been going on.

And I think a key part of this is the mindset of the team who created this show. Was this simply a poorly executed but positive sentiment, or a symptom of ableist bias from a team of 3 able-bodied people? We can harp on Jayce all we want, but ultimately someone designed him this way, and THIS is what I take issue with. Christian also says in the art book explicitly that Viktor fixing his leg and spine make him lose part of his humanity. If this is the logic behind Jayce's monologue, it is NOT positivity. It is a direct shaming of a disabled person's right to choose how they take care of themselves, said by a character who has already violated Viktor's autonomy and wishes, written by a team that equates self-improvement with inferior humanity.

Amanda Overton has repeatedly mentioned she was inspired by She-Ra, which is pretty obvious here. Unfortunately, this isn't the unequivocally positive message she thinks it is, and she missed all the nuance of Entrapta and Hordak's conversations about it. A huge component of why it works in She-Ra is because Entrapta's wisdom comes from her understanding of her own "failures" and "imperfections" due to her autism, and Hordak reciprocates support throughout the show. One of the key members of her development team is an autistic person who provided a realistic view of what an autistic person can be like.

This is two people who understand each other's pain uplifting each other, NOT Entrapta being Hordak's miraculous savior at the 11th hour. Having Jayce need a leg brace for like 5 minutes does not give him ability to understand Viktor's lifelong struggles that were also killing him.

For future seasons, I hope they bring on staff who actually have any idea what they are fucking talking about.

[vampire-catboy]

I Need Top Surgery, and I Need Your Help

Not my usual programming but, still relevant. And hey if you help and donate I can post lots of hot post-op pics for you guys wearing cool harnesses and lingerie~

But on a serious note, this is about to be heavy sorry about that, but I'm not sure how much longer I can go on living in this body. I was able to get a trusted family friend to make this for me, though it's hard to burden others with this I am only doing so because I have exhausted all other options.

You can consider your donation as a horny tax if you've ever enjoyed my blog 💕 If you're not able to donate though sharing it would mean a lot, anything helps. I appreciate you all so deeply.

What's below are the details of the go fund me that are written on the site.

Hi my name is Silver, I also go by Percy in some corners of the internet. I am a disabled trans guy that has been out for nearly 10 years now. The first thing I knew for sure that I needed was top surgery but the barriers for that are large and numerous. I am Canadian, so some procedures are covered, though the waiting lists are years long. The other issue is unlike the US, the types of top surgery here are limited.

The type of top surgery I would be getting is called Button Hole, and the surgeon that I'll be getting it from is the woman that developed the procedure in the first place, Dr. Hope Sherie. The surgeons in my country that I spoke to said my body type did not qualify for that type of surgery, though I had already spoken with Dr. Hope Sherie about what the qualifications were for her procedure and knew that what I had been told by the surgeons in my country was not entirely true. My conclusion from the information I gathered was that the surgeons in my country do not have the experience necessary to do this procedure on my body type.

I did apply to see if I could get my top surgery covered outside of my country on the basis of being told that local surgeons could not do the procedure, but ones outside of my country can. However I was denied as my government considers it unnecessary for me to leave the country for surgery since they offer it here, even though it's not the same procedure. The government dose not see a difference between the types of top surgery though there are very much wide differences otherwise why would different procedures exist at all?

Why do you want Button Hole in particular?

The options for types of top surgery procedures that exist for mid-sized people are smaller in number than the options available to people that are smaller in size. Button Hole is on of the only procedure that exists for mid-sized people where your nerves to your nipples are not severed during the surgery like with nipple grafts, therefor allowing for retention of sensation of the nipple and areola. Like with any top surgery, things may not go perfectly and I may still not be able to retain as much sensation as I'm hoping, but this is going to be my body for the rest of my life, and I have been desperately wanting this surgery for 10 years. I have thought about and researched all my options and have known for so long now that this one was right for me.

Why now?

I was hoping I could get it covered through my government, but this process has been going on for 4 years only to end up empty handed. With being disabled I also have very little income, the small amount that I do make barely covers my medication and food every month and I often find my self pulling from my dwindling savings just to cover those expenses. I have survived these past 10 years despite the daily struggle that is the in-congruence with my body and identity. Being disabled on top of being trans, rendering me in a position of not being able to work very much means that felling trapped has been something I've had to battle constantly.

Things with my family, as I live with them since I cannot afford to live anywhere else, got particularly bad last year. (Content Warning for talk of suicide) Being disabled, I qualify for assisted suicide, which is easier for me to access than any kind of financial aid. I was considering that as my only option forward at the time feeling like there were no other better options for me. Things have gotten better at home since then, so I am trying to live, this is me trying to live.

Why this amount?

I was given the quote of 13,550$ USD for my surgery. The exchange rate, which is even worse now that it was of CAD to USD turns this already steep price even steeper by a large margin. I do not expect to get this very large sum entirely covered but every bit helps immensely with a price tag this high on my life.

What will the funds cover if you reach the goal?

Just the surgery, I am going to be paying for the flight with some of my limited savings. I am also going to be housed by a friend that lives in the state while I'm recovering so my lodging fees will be reduced drastically with that. I do not feel comfortable asking for anything more than this as I feel I am already asking for so much. This is truly my absolute last resort, I did not want to burden anyone with this if I could figure out any other way. I have now exhausted all my options though.

Who is running the fundraiser?

I am doing this with the help of a trusted family friend as having your identity spread around online as a trans person is a very scary thing. Things are difficult enough as it is for me, doxing my self would not help with that.

[captain039]

PART 3 Unconventional Alpha

Alpha!Viktor x omega!reader

Warnings: Heats, suppressants, AOB, light swearing, Viktor’s not dying but still disabled, reader has chronic pain, plus size reader, nesting, Older Viktor, Professor Viktor, artistic reader, age gap reader is in their 20s +, virgin reader, first times, smut? Haven’t decided yet

Previous part <-

After that little scene with Viktor, you don’t know how to act anymore. Your heart stupidly races when he’s nearby, your stupid inner omega wants to preen and send out pheromones to him. You’ve opted to take two suppressants rather than one because you swear your hormones are acting more stupid than normal. Viktor’s easy to talk to, despite the cold exterior he puts on you realise he’s actually a brilliant and nice man, well you already knew he was brilliant. You notice how his facial expressions are more noticeable now, he uses his hands to talk more too. It’s sweet you think, in your mind and from your past experience alphas are mostly asserting dominance or trying to be better than everyone. Not Viktor, not even once even when you get into heated discussion about his work he doesn’t let on with his alpha nature, no alpha pheromones flooding your senses or that certain tone alphas get when ‘passionate’ about things. Despite your pain and no matter how crappy you feel you always make it to the cafeteria. It’s been a month now, 30 days of seeing him here, well 29 considering he showed up to your room one time instead. You admire his maturity and brilliant brain, you can’t deny he’s incredibly handsome with his lean frame, high cheekbones and slender fingers. You hate yourself for it, but you’ve grown to like him, a stupid little crush like you’re in high school again.

“Evening” You look up from your tray of food and give Viktor a small smile. You’re exhausted today, you could barely stay awake during lesson times and didn’t have any energy to paint. You’ve taken a nap today and you still feel like you could fall asleep on this table.

“Hey Professor” you reply as he sits. Your hips are throbbing, these plastic chairs are a nightmare for someone like you.

“I have something for you,” he says digging through his bag before pulling out a strange device.

“What is that?” You laugh a bit.

“I know it looks strange but it’s a heating pad” You chuckle a bit and you eye for a moment.

“You tie this around your hips, so it sits on your lower back, there’s a rune carved here for precision so when you turn it on it goes directly into the muscle” he shows you each part as he speaks and you smile a bit.

“I’ve tested it, perfectly safe” he says pushing it over the table to you.

“Seriously?” You quiz and he nods.

“I feel special to have one of a kind” you grin tracing the rune with your fingers and ignoring the warmth in your chest.

“This should help with your muscles” he says and you notice the light redness that coats his cheeks.

“Think of it as an apology for my… behaviour the other day,” he says his voice lower.

“I told you it was fine” you say ignoring your rising heartbeat.

“I imagine with your condition though you’re sensitive to touch and I shouldn’t have touched you considering the amount of pain you must be in already” he explains and you swear you fall in love.

“I- thank you, this is very nice,” you say putting the heating pad in your bag.

“Do I just microwave it?” You ask.

“Yes it’s like a normal heat pad” he nods as your mind races with thoughts already adding to your exhaustion and you struggle to finish your food.

“Is something the matter?” He asks tilting his head ever so slightly.

“No, I’m alright just a long day” You force a smile and he nods.

“Well I won’t keep you too long considering the lateness” he says glancing at his watch and you feel guilty.

“That’s ok,” you say.

“I’m afraid I have papers to go through tonight” he chuckles lightening the mood.

“Oh? That sounds fun” you snort out softly.

“If your definition of fun is looking through equations regarding the hexcore then yes, but as we’ve discovered you find that boring” he says with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Touché” you reply.

You head back to your room after you’re done. You chuck your bag on your bed and sit down carefully before kicking off your shoes and crawling awkwardly to lie on your stomach. You sigh hugging your pillow under your head before you glance at your bag. You dig out the heat pad Viktor made and eye it a bit. You put it in the microwave before taking it out you feel a strange sensation go through your hand before you tie it around your hips. You lie down again and let out a small groan leaving your lips as you feel the strange pulse of heat go to the tense muscles in your lower back.

“Oh that’s good” you mutter to yourself sighing in relief. You wear it out the next day, under a baggy shirt, you put it in the microwave a little longer this time and it feels like a toasty marshmallow melting into your muscles. You either want to marry the professor or praise him, you haven’t decided. You still feel tired today though, as the warmth spreading on your lower back is making the desk look extra comfortable. You’re in the art room alone so nobody should see you if you took a small nap. You rest your head on your arms on the table and close your eyes.

Viktor paces his lab a bit, the blackboard filled with equations, but his mind isn’t focusing. He keeps flicking back to you, your smile, your eyes. He tells himself off for even thinking about a student in such a way even if you’re not his student. He knew he shouldn’t have touched you but his alpha instincts went into overdrive the moment you didn’t fully straighten up and cursed. He needed to find the problem and fix it quickly, that’s all he thought, seeing his omega- see you, in pain, made him want to help. Making you that heating pad special was bordering all the boundaries he set up for himself. He tested that heating pad about fifty times before he got it right, the deep bruises on his hips were a show for it. He walks down the hall needing some fresh air, he passes the art room on the way to the courtyard his eyes briefly flickering in the room before he stops. He walks back seeing you hunched over asleep on your desk. He knows that can’t be comfortable and he knows damn well you’re going to pay for it. He opens the door softly making sure no one is around before he approaches, he moves quietly as best he can with his cane before reaching out to gently shake you. He frowns though your shirt is lifted up slightly his heart misses a beat as he sees the heating pad he made on your lower back secured by the hem of your pants. It fills with warmth and pride that you’re using it, making his alpha nature almost purr if possible. His fingers shake a bit as he lifts his hand and gently moves a few strands of hair from your face. He frowns noticing the way you’re tense even in sleep, your brows slightly pinched together, your jaw set. He looks away a moment before gently taps the desk loudly with his cane. You jolt and he curses himself silently.

“Easy” he says voice low and your eyes flick to his a look of relief going over your features when you realise it’s just him.

You’ve been jolted awake before but damn does it suck. You clear your throat and rub your eyes.

“Not a good student am I?” You chuckle seeing his lips twitch.

“Sleeping in class? No, I'd say not” he teases.

“Given the circumstances, I can overlook it” he lets his smile widen.

“Thank you kind sir” you chuckle sighing.

“You should go back to your room and rest, I can give Mr Klint a note” he offers and you shake your head.

“No it’s alright, I gotta do stuff today,” you say sighing.

“Pushing yourself too hard leads to worse burnouts” he says and you feel defensiveness rising within you.

“I said I was fine” You don’t mean to snap, but you do, even if he said it without a condescending tone.

“Of course, I apologise for overstepping Miss Y/n” he nods a small frown on his face and you sigh feeling guilty.

“Professor Viktor?” You hear your teacher Professor Klint walk with a smile on his face.

“Professor Klint” Viktor replies giving you one last look and a nod goodbye before talking briefly with your professor and leaving. You sigh running a hand through your hair before you continue with your day. Viktor was right you probably should’ve gone home, you end up leaving because you feel horrible, your stomach tumbles and you feel nausea building. You manage to get to your room before you throw up. You cough and gag, panting heavily before you sit on the floor shaking. You figured you ate something really bad during lunch or you’re officially dying, which may be over dramatic but still.

You think you might be dying. You haven’t stopped puking and even plain bread seems like the worst thing to put in your stomach. You have constant shakes and hot and cold flushes, it’s either the flu or a stomach bug or some sort of virus. You don’t know anyone in your class who is sick though, you rarely go out and hang out with other people too. You need to see one of the doctors they have on sight, you send Dr Marion an email before getting a reply back with a time. You feel like shit when you get ready, you shower, well try to and getting dressed got ten times worse. You put on a mask and stumble down the halls in your overly big hoodie and sweatpants, you don’t give a damn, you feel too sick to care. You’ve got a puke bag in your pocket too just in case you don’t find a trash can, or run to the toilets quick enough. You think the walk got longer to the doctor's wing, you hear your name being called out and glance seeing Professor Viktor. He looks concerned and you tell him to stay where he is making him frown more.

“I’ve got something and I don’t wanna get you sick,” you say a tremble going through your body as a small breeze comes through.

“I’m going to the doctor now” you explain.

“Do you need an escort? You look like you’re about to fall over” he says taking a few steps closer.

“No, no I don’t wanna be the one who gets the great inventor and man of progress sick,” you say taking a few shaky steps back.

“I can assure you it won’t be the end of the world if I get sick, please,” he says and you sigh not wanting to argue.

“Fine,” you say and he walks closer to you.

“Did the doctor's wing get further away?” You ask as you listen to the rhythmic sound of his cane and walking.

“No they didn’t, but in your condition, I imagine they feel like it” Viktor chuckled softly. You let out a small sigh and walk slowly and shakily. You catch a whiff of his scent and sigh in relief at the calming alpha pheromones he lets out. You wonder if he realises he’s doing it, you’re not going to say anything though. You make it to the doctor’s wing finally and thank Viktor collapsing into one of the chairs.

“I’ll tell the receptionist you’re here” he says and you go to protest but he’s already gone. The receptionist gives you a glance before nodding and Viktor comes back and sits by you.

“You can go if you want I’ll be ok” you say behind your mask.

“I’ll sleep easier knowing you made it back to your room without collapsing,” he says and you nod. You sag into the chair wanting to hide in your large hoodie, despite the mask you can still smell him, it makes you want to lean into his neck and breathe him in. You hear your name and groan softly more to yourself and stand heading inside.

“You don’t look well at all love,” Dr Marion says. She’s a sweet elderly lady who you’ve been seeing since you came to the academy a few years ago.

“I don’t feel it” you answer as she sits on you on the bed.

“Oh, you’re hotter than lava, goodness” she feels your forehead. She runs the usual tests, checks your temperature, your ears, and your mouth, and takes a blood test after you tell her your symptoms.

“Your A 24 count is higher, how many suppressants are you taking?” She asks with a small frown.

“Two?” You want to grimace knowing it isn’t recommended.

“Right well, there’s your problem dear” She chuckles softly and you sigh.

“What made you feel the need to take two?” She asks.

“My hormones were going a little haywire” you shrug.

“Out of the blue?” She asks and your cheeks warm, yeah totally out of the blue.

“You tell me sugar” she smiles.

“I’ve been talking to an alpha, not in that sense just, at dinner time we sit and chat about stuff and my stupid hormones are acting up, I was getting urges, my pheromones were out of whack and I didn’t want to ruin anything” you sigh a bit sagging.

“Oh you sweet girl” she laughs softly.

“I remember meeting my alpha and the same thing happening,” she says fondly.

“Wait, what?” You say frowning.

“Yeah, when I met John my now mate and husband, my body started acting strange too, I went through the same things you did, guess our bodies know before we do” She has this look of love on her face and you think it’s sweet, but not in your case.

“No, it’s nothing like that we’re just chatting” you explain. Sometimes you swear she’s your grandmother version therapist too.

“Well whatever the case, you’ll need to stop taking the suppressants till your body runs through this virus otherwise it’s only going to get worse, I’ll give you some antibiotics that should help, but until you’re 100% no more suppressants or it could be fatal, you’re also not contagious,” she says scribbling on paper before standing.

“Wait right here, I’ll be back with those antibiotics,” she says and leaves the room. You nod your mind reeling a bit, you haven’t been of your suppressants in well years. You feel your anxiety building before Dr Marion comes back in with a small container of pills. She sends you on her way and you stagger a bit out of her room.

“Are you alright?” Viktor stands and walks to you.

“I um-“ you gulp a bit your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes go worried as he waits.

“I’m not dying- no it’s just a virus,” you say realising how bad it looks and he sighs in relief.

“You know how to scare a man” he chuckles softly and you force a smile.

“What’s bothering you then? If it isn’t too personal” he says softly.

“It’s-“It is personal, so why the hell do you want to tell him everything?

Next part ->

[needtobehisprettyboy]

Jayce's end speech to Viktor is not profound—not to me at least

I know people have already talked about this but I wanted to rant about it too cause it's been bothering me for a few days and it's one of the reasons why I don't interact with the monogamous JayVik side of the fandom much besides reblogging some things I find cute and liking posts. The shippers are ok, but the source material that they often reference really annoys me -.-

I don't blame JayVik shippers or anyone else who talks about the scene for finding it really romantic and/or deep. In another show, the scene likely would be 100% and the writers themselves (that Amanda and Linke who shouldn't be trusted) talk about it like it's soooo magical and wonderful and awe-inspiring. Depending on how you interpret the scene, it definitely can be.

Unfortunately, the scene just rubs me the wrong way. Disabled people on reddit and no doubt on Tumblr have addressed their dislikes of how the scene went. In general though, it just didn't touch on the true issues at hand.

While I'm not disabled, I have had the 'just love yourself' bit of advice from multiple people and?? Ok?? How does that help me in a world that hates people like me?? I learned to love my body, but various people treat me differently because of it. I learned to love my skin color, but I won't ever be treated like my white counterparts. I learned to accept my transgender identity, but I will still be considered a degenerate freak regardless.

Whether you love yourself or not isn't the issue. It's others loving you or not that is. It's law enforcement looking down on you. It's politicians not properly acknowledging your struggles (if they even acknowledge them at all) that's the problem. It helps to love yourself, but your love and acceptance of who you are isn't the magical fix all.

‼️CW: ‼️⚠️‼️ discussion dealing with death / a close death encounter ‼️⚠️‼️

‼️SKIP IF YOU WANT‼️

Not to mention, Viktor had every right to be upset with his deteriorating health. What I just said applies to this too—it doesn't matter if you love yourself or not you'll still have issues that won't go away. It's a horrible fact to live with (having physical issues that can't be solved with self love) which is especially true for people who think they're just wasting away.

I actually had a close encounter with slow death. It is sincerely horrifying feeling yourself get weaker and wonder whether something serious would happen. I can't imagine knowing I'm going to die and not have a way to get better. My brush with death was entirely preventable and I got better (by not letting myself breath in carbon monoxide omfg), but Viktor couldn't get better. He was heading towards his death bed. It just messes me up having people brush over that. I mean come on!! That man was going through some serious shit!!

I still feel fear over what happened to me even though I knew how to prevent it!!! What he went through was not addressed properly at all. It was NOT "imperfections" he was about to fucking die and that kind of experience makes you feel a cold dreaded desperation. IT ISN'T SOMETHING TO DISMISS NOR THAT CAN BE FIXED WITH SELF LOVE!!! There is no beauty in helplessness. It would be one thing to accept death and know that you can't always change your fate, but that wasn't what was talked about.

AAAA I HATE YOU TWO BASTARDS (the writers not JayVik)

‼️end of CW‼️

Arcane is a show that doesn't have in-world homophobia or racism (thank fuck please continue that), but it still has classism among other types of oppressions. I don't quite know if it has ableism—if you think it does let me know cause I'm always open to new info and different perspectives.

Viktor's main problem was his terminal illness which was caused by outside sources and wanting to make a real impact on the world. Jayce himself said Viktor suffered from pollution from the undercity. No doubt because of the different availability of treatments in the undercity and Piltover's government not giving a shit to help those they're responsible for, he wasn't able to get it caught in time which led to his terminal illness developing/worsening before his work was done.

And Viktor told Heimerdinger about wanting to be remembered!! He got a decent way up the social ladder for someone coming from the undercity who didn't have a patron or a house to his name, but he would've gone much further if he was from Piltover. It wasn't that Viktor thought his disability was a "weakness", it was that his illness was killing him and he KNEW other people viewed him as less than for things he couldn't control. I mean Jayce might have looked down on him too or been wary of Viktor for being from the undercity had he been told up front. Viktor's illness wasn't a weakness, it was something that stopped Viktor's dream path with other factors such as his place of birth being obstacles he managed to overcome—somewhat.

I don't know that it was necessarily because he was disabled that people looked down on him. Maybe part of it was (I SINCERELY don't know whether Arcane would have in-world ableism regarding Viktor's disabilities), but part of it was DEFINITELY because of where Viktor came from. Also, his main objective in leaving Jayce, and even before he left, was to help people. It wasn't to "fix" imperfections. That came after.

While Jayce was off playing councilor, Viktor was working on Hextech and wanted to show it off as soon as they showed some good progress. He didn't have time to wait around because of his TERMINAL illness, so he wanted change now and tried to change himself to let him live longer, not simply because he thought he was "imperfect".

For goodness sake people are allowed to want to change their situation for the sake of survival!!

Arcane fumbled the ball by making Viktor's objections change and try to act as if those were his main objectives all along when it was shown ON SCREEN that the Hexcore was corrupting/influencing him. His dreams were pure, nice and they ended up becoming corrupted because he descended into Godhood not understanding what his "help" was doing to people and having his humanity stripped away. Viktor wanted other people's suffering to end, but that wasn't the problem. Wanting people to get proper help for their issues wasn't wrong—it was the WAY he went about it that was wrong.

That's a good plotline right there yet it was ignored/misconstrued.

Jayce's speech of imperfections just didn't make sense.

Not with what we know of the previous context!!

Viktor's illness wasn't something to be ignored and things wouldn't have changed if Viktor "loved" himself. It had nothing to do with loving himself!! That wasn't the root cause!!

It horrified me that Jayce resurrected Viktor especially with Viktor saying he didn't feel cold anymore after he was revived aka he didn't have the same human feelings he should've. The resurrection CHANGED him. He didn't reject humanity. It was taken away from him!!

Jayce's speech just didn't fit with what truly caused the situation. At the end of the day, this was only caused by Viktor's and Jayce's desire for Viktor to survive. If they weren't so desperate for him to live, Viktor wouldn't have gone to Singed, got the shimmer, used it on himself, experimented, etc, etc and Jayce wouldn't have revived him without his consent. There was nothing inherently wrong with them wanting Viktor to survive but they did cause horrible things due to how they went about it yet somehow the show acts as if it is inherently wrong and points out the issues BUT IN THE WRONG WAY?? As if Viktor just wanted to not be disabled bc he wanted to be a better person or something and not bc he was about to die??? As if Jayce forcing Viktor into being merged with the Hexcore that killed Sky wasn't a big issue?? As if either of them were gonna accept Viktor's progression and that all Viktor had to do was accept himself the way he was???? What?? WTF?????

Of course, I'm really focusing on one part of the speech. Like I said earlier, depending on your interpretations the scene would be cute, but just hearing Jayce not get the overall fucking point was annoying. It's not his fault tho bc to be fair, he did get the job done and let Viktor finally rest in peace—

It's the damn writers' fault (•\ _ /•*) !!

People act as if the scene is so cute and I can't really tell them that they're 100% wrong because it IS written as Jayce being sincerely understanding and accepting and Viktor was shown to appreciate his words, but I just can't get over the fact that the true issues were overlooked. "Beauty in imperfections" my ass. There was another lesson that should've been taught about acceptance and it wasn't that one.

Ugh, I really hate seeing the scenes pop up on my dash and people quoting it or whatev. That and them making it a meme of Viktor becoming God because of a gay break up as if he didn't have every right to be upset over Jayce reviving him using a dangerous method without his consent and, in fact, with an explicit request for the thing involved in said dangerous method (the Hexcore) to be destroyed.

Rip my poor girl Sky... deserved more than what happened to you (⁠T⁠_T⁠) and sorry Mel that the writers made JayVik's relationship (platonic or not) "deeper" than what you had with Jayce as if you're not special too (⁠个^个⁠) each one of you guys (Jayce, Viktor, Sky, Mel, etc etc) deserved better ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´∆`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

UGHHHHH I HATE THOSE TWO+ ANTI SEMITIC, RACIST, IGNORANT BASTARDS!!!!

Arcane would've probably been better if they weren't in charge ((⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ !!!!

[hunterwittebone]

Rant about Hunter and Disability in toh!!

One thing that I don’t see talked about often that I find really interesting is Hunter being disabled in the fact he can’t cast magic.

I think that it’s a really important part of Hunter’s character though, and plays a huge part in his isolation and manipulation under Belos. A lot of the world in the boiling isles is centered around magic and the uses they play in the world. This can be seen even in “I was a teenage abomination” because Willow is struggling with her future because of her lack of abomination magic. She gets bullied and teased for her lack of magic, even though she’s strong in plant magic!

This is just one example of how magic plays a huge role in the boiling isles, especially considering the coven system implemented by belos which limits wild magic such as glyphs and palismen.

Because of how much magic is relied on, the lack of magic in the boiling isles is discriminated against and treated as less than people with magic. Which is especially seen early in separate tides, with how Eda can’t find work and gets underpaid because she lost her magic. This plays a huge role in Belos’s manipulation over Hunter because Hunter believes that without magic he won’t be able to have a future, which is why Belos taking him in and “giving” him magic is so important and vital to him.

I do believe that the lack of magic can be a metaphor for a mental disorder, especially since it isn’t possible to tell just by looking at them. In our current world, people with mental disorders often get discriminated against and are affected by their disorder in daily life. I think that wild magic could also be a metaphor for accommodations! With the use of accommodations it makes it possible for those with disorders to be able to work and function more in this world/environment!

Overall, this is something very personal to me, especially since I’m affected daily by my disorders. I do believe that The Owl House did a really good job at representing disability in the show! Please let me know any thoughts or opinions you have, but please be respectful.

[bogkeep]

thoughts about the "it's ableist to demand people to create art without ai" argument

thankfully not an argument that shows up on my dash unless someone is dunking on it (though i prefer not to be exposed to it at all but what can you do), but i Do think it can be worth biting into the question of: Does True Art Require Effort?

like, if we just ignore the exploitative nature of generative AI for a moment, and the fact that it creates dogshit results and is probably not going to get much "better" than this.

the thing i tend to harp on is that i don't find it particularly meaningful to discuss back and forth whether or not ai generated pictures counts as Real Art or not, because we do not have a meaningful consensus on how to define art in a way that includes everything we personally think is art and excludes everything we don't think is art. it's an interesting discussion! but it's a distraction from, well, The Exploitation. i personally think ai generated pictures can be art - it just tends to be Bad Art. it's uninspired, boring, and makes a mockery of the craft - but that's something you can say about many artworks that's been crafted by real human hands, as well.

so technically i have already answered the question, but it's not what i wanted to talk about. what i wanted to look at was the relationship between Art and Effort, or as some may put it, Suffering. because there is a point where i agree- i don't think there's a necessary Effort Threshold something needs to pass to be considered Art. i don't think one has to suffer to create. and it is true that for some people, the act creation requires far more effort or sacrifice than it requires of others, be it because of disability, time restraints, a lack of resources... we have different situations! this is real! i myself have struggled with tendonitis, severely limiting my ability to draw, and it's not something you can just keep drawing your way through the pain for, lest you fuck it up even worse.

the first question is this: is Creation a human right? well, self actualization IS on the maslow's pyramid of needs, on the tippy top. i have no idea if the pyramid theory is considered Super Legit or not, but it makes sense to me. i think humans DO have a creative need that we express in a myriad of forms - not just writing and drawing! i think our brains yearn to Make Thing for the sake of Making Thing. i think it is very very sad that techbros are dabbling in the act of creation by writing prompts to feed ai generators, and i pity them for not having discovered a more fulfilling way to feed that impulse. i do actually think all humans should have time and tools for creative expressions, but that's an extremely broad sentence for me to say.

(a more adjacent topic is that art as a Product is more of a luxury than a Human Need, like it's not food or shelter. but also art is so deeply embedded in human civilization, and i do think it's a shame how often people consider it superfluous or even hedonistic. *i* think it's important to feed the soul with beauty and stories and expression, but i have no authority to make such a claim for all humankind.)

here is the thing. we have made many tools that have made creating art easier. we live in an age of photography and audio recording and digital art programs. the last one especially can give us a MYRIAD of shortcuts when it comes to creating visual art! nobody would consider it "cheating" to use the paint bucket tool instead of painstakingly filling in every area with a brush tool. we have increasingly more access to 3d models and various assets. *is* there a point where we draw a line in the sand and say, "you're not spending enough time to make this, therefore it is void"? i, personally, wouldn't. i wouldn't know where to draw that line. i have been reading webcomics for a long time, and i have seen how webtoon as a platform has slowly gentrified the medium and is forcing creators to create pages at an unsustainable, breakneck speed - it's no wonder artists are plopping 3D assets directly into their art to even make that schedule viable.

like, ultimately, generative ai doesn't make anything new we have never seen before - we've had photo manipulation for as long as photography has existed, what we consider "slop" has been churned out by greedy corporations for as long as it's been a way to make money - it just makes it much faster, and, crucially, without intention or creative input.

like, i think that's the big thing. whether or not Art can be created without Intent is a whole another discussion, actually. there was an article about someone leaving their glasses on the floor at a gallery, and people started treating it as part of the exhibition. your cat can take a random, unintended photo and you can call it art. once again, a very big and interesting discussion to have! but i think the throughline is that even if human intent was not involved in creating the art, human intent placed it in a context to make it art. art is a social construct! but! i do think intent can be the line between Good art and Bad art. unfortunately, this is another extremely complex discussion to have, because can we objectively call any art Good or Bad? what does Good or Bad even *mean*! do we even have time to delve into that!!

but what we can say for absolutely 100% certain is that generative ai has no intent, no purpose, no thoughts. it is an algorithm, it does not have the ability to think or mean anything of its own. if it has a bias, it's because the people who programmed it have a bias, or because there is an implicit bias in the content fed to it. now, i don't want to go down the path of talking about how Real Art has a ~*Soul*~ or always has some kind of deep meaning. i don't think the millions of Cool Anime Eyes sketched in math notebooks have a deeper meaning. we create art for lots and lots of purposes - for fun, for practice, to make money, to tell our most vulnerable of truths in the only way we know how, and so on. it can be hard to tell how much of what we create is imbued with ~*intent*~, or even how much we are aware of it - i don't know if a 12 year old trying to draw the coolest edgiest sword wielding OC is thinking too hard about like, the contextual implications of design tropes... but they're making an effort to make their OC look ras as hell with the knowledge and tools at their tiny hand. when they are 24 they may look back at what they drew and redraw it with all the experience they have gained since!!

an AI can't replace a human doing creative work professionally because the skills and knowledge they are using is far more than just "picture look pretty" or "this text vaguely sounds like it was written by a human and isn't that super impressive". at best, or worst really, it replaces extremely overworked and over-exploited professionals who are not given time, resources and compensation to do their job *well*, such as ghost writers forced to write slop.

creation is more than the effort it takes to make it. it is *knowing* how to shape your clay, your words, your lines, to make them into what you want them to be and what you want them to do. it is knowing how (and when) to rewrite your draft, to pick out the best sketch, to make coherent thumbnails, tighten up the narrative, to evoke a mood, to play on themes. it is to build your skill with everything you make.

generative AI is a randomizer button. the one thing i feel fairly certain about is that it's very difficult to say *you* created something if all you did was write a prompt and a machine spat out a product at you. like that one seems fairly cut and dry to me. another thing i've seen a lot is people claiming to use genAI as a starting point, and then editing the thing to make it what you want it to be - and i can see the merit in that, sure! though i also think that the amount of editing and tweaking you need to do to make the thing workable is so substantial and grueling that you may as well make your thing from scratch, and now we've just looped back around to the Demanding Effort Is Ableism problem again.

using generative AI is giving up your autonomy in the process of creation. there are ways to spin art out of that (gestures at marina abramovíc's famous performance art where she just let the audience do whatever they wanted to her while she remained unresponsive) - but for the question of Creating Art As A Human Right And Need: why would you want to? what creative fulfilment do you get out of relinquishing all creative control? you're not... you're not *making* anything. maybe you came up with an idea - great start! - and then threw it out the window in the hopes that the wind would pick it up and take it somewhere exciting. god, even that sounds more like an artistic project than using generative AI. literally any metaphor i could make about this sounds more artistic and interesting than what generative AI is doing these days. i miss the time when AI generated pictures were incomprehensible and strange. i miss secret horses. i miss the time where i naively hoped computers dreaming up images would be like, artistically interesting.

most importantly, as many, many other people have said: disabled people are *already* making art. when my tendonitis was bad, i drastically reduced my drawing time and switched to only using tools that were gentle on my hands, and planned my drawings and drawing time accordingly. i think of my disabled writer friends using speech-to-text software. i think of sir terry pratchett, diagnosed with alzheimers, creating his last books by dictating to his assistant and making audio notes for himself. i'm thinking of the many, many creatives who have collaborated to create amazing things together. i'm not going to come out here and say that ~*Anything Is Possible If You Only Put Your Mind To It*~ or some other platitude that disregards your disability, i don't know you, maybe you will never have the ability or resources to work on the One beautiful creative project that lives in your heart. but i am nearly completely certain that generative AI is not your only option.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Scooby-Doo (bangchan)

random author's note: idk bangchan has been bias wrecking me so hard lately and i had this whole scenario in my head for weeks help like man's so fucking sweet and fine ugh

WARNING: heaps of soft!chan content ahead proceed with caution ok bye

"Y/n...I don't -i don't think this is right?". Entirely too cute for his own good, Chan sits across from you, his legs spread apart on the floor as he stubbornly tries to piece together a festive banner made of crepe paper, struggling quite a bit with how much it's creasing and ripping at the edges. 

He holds up a scraggly piece of paper and looks confusedly at you while you try your best not to laugh at him. 

It's a late afternoon, only one day ahead of the charity event that's going to be held at the café you work at. Your manager had kindly asked you to help her out with decorations but considering how cramped and cold the staff backroom is at the place, you decided to bring a few arts and crafts materials at home.

And Chan being Chan he wanted to help because of course he did.

The whole project is meant to raise awareness and funds for young kids with disabilities, the main charity organisation had reached out to your manager just the other day and you loved her for jumping at the chance to help out and let them host an event at the café, you really did.

What you loved a little less was how crazy it was driving you trying to make the decorations from scratch. Perhaps you had overestimated just how capable you are. Just an itty bitty tiny little bit.

"Can you believe we've been sitting here for over 2 hours and only got like ... 3 banners done? We're screwed", you chuckle, readjusting your uncomfortable bum on the confetti and shiny paper covered floor all around you, multiple coloured markers and scissors and glitter jars scattered all over, along with failed prototypes of various types of decorations.

"Mmh ... we're the dream team aren't we?", Chan giggles embarassed, looping a string through the more intact piece of another banner, finally succeeding without it falling apart: "look!! It worked! Finally!", he exclaims enthusiastically, looking so proud of himself.

How fucking cute is he! Your heart literally melts at the sight, a soft thrumming against your chest in seeing this beautiful man being so hyped over arts and crafts. 

He didn't even have to come and help. He had so little free time you felt so bad for occupying his sparse nights off with this project but he had insisted on helping you so much you just couldn't refuse. Besides, him tackling you to the ground in a fit of tickles and giggles really didn't give you much of an option to say no.

You sigh contentedly, just looking at his progress and his satisfied little face as he tries to proceed onto the next banner, "hey do we have blue glitter? I kind of want to add some to this one", he asks, perusing his perimeter in search of the blue glitter glue tube, which you locate at the corner of the couch and pass it over to him, "ah there it is, thanks baby", he mumbles, still concentrated on his task but grateful enough to you that he kisses your hand once before taking the glue.

Endeared, awash in warmth deep within your belly, you tilt your head to the side and smile softly at him: "Channie ... make love to me".

Pursing those bratz doll lips in a pout, Chan looks at you stupefied, "I'm sorry what?", he says in just a murmur, blinking at you confusedly. You giggle lightly, struggling to hide the blush you know is forming atop the apples of your cheeks, though you are resolute. Utterly convinced you just made the right call.

And so you reteirate, staring straight into his kind eyes: "I want you to make love to me, if that's alright with you".

It shouldn't come as the biggest surprise, really. You had been dating for a little while and had been intimate before, just not to the fullest extent. He knew you weren't experienced in the slightest and he never NEVER pushed you beyond your limits. Always respectful and continuosly asking for permission he had slowly taken your hand and guided you through intimacy up until the extent you felt comfortable to each time.

You distintictly remember confessing you had never had sex with a guy in your very few mild, fleeting past relationships, you can still clearly conjure up the soft look on his face, the acceptance in knowing you were a little shy and a lot scared, mostly you were afraid he was going to give up on you cause you weren't willing to just experience your first time so casually and he'd get impatient and insufferable like the person you were dating previously.

But Chan was ...well he was just Chan. He was your best friend before he was your boyfriend, he already knew how fragile your heart was and how you needed alllll the reassurance and safety and stability before going all in.

"You have nothing to worry about, I'm not going anywhere whether you want to eventually have sex with me or not. If and when you want to, then I'll be just so honoured and grateful you trusted me enough".

Slow, baby steps. A natural progression in your relationship that bloomed and flourished into something so beautiful and safe, loving him came as easy as breathing.

You had given him no timeline and down the road he just gauged your reactions to him and how far you were willing to go each and everytime either of you initiated anything, the more comfortable you grew the more you felt like your confidence in both yourself and this relationship grew along with it. 

Chan's whole incredolous face lights up in the biggest, most endeared smile, eyes squinting, perfect teeth on full show and those dimples to die for digging at his cheeks, "are you ... oh my god out of nowhere? are you .. are you sure? like one hundred percent?", he inquires and you nod in agreement, your heartbeat feeling both very steady and erratic at the same time.

A brief moment of silence falls upon you and Chan just looks so ridiculously elated and gobsmacked he just starts giggling adorably, "oh gosh c'me here, let me give you a hug, I need to hold you", he exclaims all smiley amd gushy which only makes you weak in the knees.

Therefore you crawl.

Across the floor and then in his lap, his arms enveloping your whole body the second you wrap yourself around him, arms lacing around his neck, legs around his torso, your flushed cheeks buried in his neck.

"Ooh you're blushing, how cute", Chan coos, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, tickling your skin, his hands roaming on your back in gentle caresses, "are you positive you really want to?", he asks one more time, clearly trying to assess if it was a spur of the moment thing or if you're actually sure about your decision, "yeah, yeah I promise I am", you reassure, swallowing the slight nervousness down your throat.

Chan cups your cheeks very gently and kisses you in between both of your guys' smiles, he holds your face and your neck delicately as he kisses you more and more, those gorgeous soft lips melting into your mouth again and again, sweet sighs escaping him when you reach for his hair, tangling the longer, curlier ends at the nape of his neck in between your fingers, unconsciously straddling him in the process, which does provoke a tension in his pants.

"Baby-", Chan breathes in, still a whisper away from your lips, "i'm getting so hot", he chuckles, the tips of his ears going redder and redder, "I'm going to take off my shirt okay?", you nod briefly and detach yourself from him just enough so he can remove his t-shirt.

He's statuary. That much you already knew. You love looking at his bare skin, taking in the hard work he consistently put into sculpting his chest and his abs, your fingers already twitching to reach out and run all over him.

You also really appreciate how he subtly still asked for your consent and proceeded to take one layer off first, putting himself in a more vulnerable position first so you didn't have to.

Eyes sparkling while looking at you looking at him, he guides you right back to his chest so you can press yourself up to him and kiss and pat and tickle his exposed skin, which obviously has him in shambles and giggles in no time: "hahaha that's so tickly help haha", he squeaks and oh my god you could not  love him more right now. So silly and cute and lovable, diffusing your nervousness without even realising that.

You kiss some more,a little more sloppily, now his hands tentatively sneak up the back of your shirt, resting warmly on your spine, fingertips brushing against the clasp of your bra, and the second you shiver from his touch he stops, making it a point to look at you in your seemingly drunken eyes: "you know you can stop me anytime right? no actually ...it's not that you can ...you have to", he speaks solemnly, seriousness downing on his face.

"I think we should have a safe word. Something that either of us can use at any point and that'll make us snap right out of it", he continues, looking intently at you, "oh? s-sure?", you agree, continuosly pleasantly surprised at just how caring and mature he is, "of course you can just say hey Chan stop right now but if it makes it easier I reckon we should come up with something immediate that can be used whenever no questions asked, like I don't know ...you say apples and we stop. No matter what, we stop".

The corners of your lips stuck into a genuine, bright smile, you nod enthusiastically, "apples! I like the sound of that!", you comment, reassurance seeping in inside your veins. Chan leans in to kiss you once more, absolutely loving the way your body is warm and so close to his his heart might just leap out of his chest and smack against yours. 

He hums pensively, hands crawling up your bra straps, "actually ...perhaps not apples. Let's find something else, please ...", he says slowly, "why not apples? You don't like fruit?", you tease jokingly and he giggles in response, though he frowns too, in a joking matter as well: "I love fruit! But it's not going to work ... you've got apples there ...my brain might just short circuit", he whines in a pout, gesturing at the general direction of your chest.

The laugh bursting out of you is potent and stress relieving to no end, you physically double down on him, laughing his ass out as well, arms barely holding you from the vibration. It takes you both a little bit to fully calm down, the smitten smiles stay though, as if permanently etched onto your faces.

"Alright alright ...what about ...Scooby doo? Is it outlandish enough?", you offer along with an encouraging nod, immediately reflected by Chan who vigorously agrees, "Scooby doo! I love that. Yes let's go with that!" he declares, promptly peppering your face with kisses until you're a giggly mess again.

Truly the silliness of it all makes your heart feel so light, this is so like Chan, you think to yourself, to make you feel so at ease and comforted, to turn something serious and important like communication  and make it fun and spontaneous and nice.

You only start to fully someber up once Chan starts kissing your neck a little more feverishly, you slowly realise he also cupping your bra, fondling very gently, and that's fine with you, you've been here before.

With a quick move you take off your shirt and straighten out your back, those thin, calloused fingers of his immediately skimming the notches of your spine and then brushing the flesh of your sides and lower back. 

Choking a bit on air, you shift into Chan's lap some more, the friction there making it so he's just getting harder and harder in his pants, lips dragging over your jaw and your jugular and then down the exposed skin on your upper chest, a soft groan resounding in the room as he feels your half naked body against his, "should we-should we go upstairs in your room?", he offers beneath his breath, dark but shining orbs looking at your reddened face.

It feels a lot like one of those teenage movies you used to watch and fantasize about, him lifting you right up into his arms, picking you up like a baby and climbing up the stairs while still kissing you passionately. It's real. It really is real. Your heart now thrumming faster, you close your eyes for a second, fully immersing yourself in the moment.

Chan carefully lays you down on your bed and spreads out your legs just enough so he can position his one knee in between as he hovers over you, lips full and dark pink, eager to kiss you more and more.

And you let him, of course you do.

So lost in the kiss and the delicate scent of his cologne it takes you a second to realise he's fumbling with the straps of your bra again, "is this okay? can we take this off?".

Your face now a several different degrees of hot from the intimacy of this all, you sit up just barely, the garment easily sliding down your shoulders, with little  to no help.

A grunt escapes his lips, eyes growing big and dark, Chan takes in your sight and then attacks your chest with fluttery kisses all over, his hands coming up to fully undo the clasp and finally remove the garment.

Oh he knows what he's doing. There's a veil of hunger in his eyes, along with a certain savviness, like an expertise of sorts as he buries his face in your chest, that warm soft mouth of his kissing every goosebump and curve and birthmark while he gently fondles and squishes your flesh.

You're electrified by his touch but also soothed by it at the same time, blood surging fast to your heart but somehow quietening it down. It occurs to you that you haven't been doing much on your part, you wonder if you're supposed to do more than just run your hands down his smooth, muscular back, if you're supposed to pull at his hair, considering you genuinely wish to. Both for his and your own satisfaction.

Scooting just a little closer to him so he has easier access to you, you trail your hands down to his crotch, the fabric of his pants stretched for dear life around his very obvious boner: "that's you... that's all you", Chan mumbles a little flustered, a nervous giggle following suit that has you chuckling in disbelief. 

Carefully you move your hands around the bulge, looking up at him with uncertainty, "may I...?", you ask timidly and he cups your cheek with one hand, "of course, you can touch me as much as you want".

Your hands trembling just a tad bit, you reach out to undo the button of his pants, struggling not to let it slip in between your fingers. Your boyfriend towering over you, feeling exponentially soft, melty on the inside and hard for you in the outside at the same times.

He chuckles and grabs both your hands just so he can bring them up to his lips and kiss them, distracting you from your task, "I got you, I got you", he whispers, now unbottoning his own pants, sliding them down his legs and then kicking them off. 

You start stroking him through his light blue boxers,enough to feel him warming up and twitching slightly in your palms, Chan sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking absolutely marvelous while doing that, breathing heavy, arousal written all over his face despite the calmness in his attitude.

"Humpf...ooh ..s-shit", Chan tilts his head back, his Adam apple prominent and exposed, you can't help but plant a kiss right there, earnig a delighted whimper in response.

A firm but not painful grip to your aching wrist, Chan slows down your motion after a little while, just when you feel dampness in your palms, his still clothed skin becoming boiling hot, "I oof ...I'm going to need you to stop here or I might just ...not last", he admits through a ragged breath.He's holding back, trying to restrain himself as long as he can, you can tell by the beads of sweat on his face and his chest, the veins in his neck thickening by the second.

Still he remains astoundingly present and focused. On you. Only you. Thin fingers trailing down your torso, cupping your breasts and your face and your tummy and your arms, eager to kiss you all over too, "oh GOD your skin is so soft, you are so soft", he rasps in a daze.

You want to laugh and cry and scream at just how good this feels, all the soft touches and praise and the heat of his body pressing down on you. When his fingers eventually find their path down the front of your crotch, despite your heart rising up in your throat, you nod enthusiastically before he even gets the chance to speak, for you're fairly sure he's about to ask for your permission.

Eyes literally sparkling, Chan pinches your chin between his fingers, "I need your explicit vocal consent to touch you down there", he says solemnly, "you have it", you reply just as seriously, undoing the button of your jeans and sliding them down past your hips, letting him do the rest.

Just at the sight of you in your lilac frilly underwear where a darker patch is expanding has his mouth water, you can hear him cussing under his breath incomprehensibly one minute and then rubbing his fingers against your pulsating nub the next.Yeah your scars and stretchmarks and hair and skin bumps on the inside of your thighs are on full show for him, and admittedly they make you feel a little self conscious but if Chan notices them, he doesn't seem to mind at all.

He starts with just two fingers at first, rubbing back and forth, teasing your still clothed entrance a few times before he switches to pressing down his whole palm on you. Your head sinking into the pillow beneath you, you shut your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip harshly, your body going tense in the best way, cheeks warming up, your breathing coming up short as Chan works fast but thoroughly.

You're so concentrated on the building feeling in your lower tummy you barely hiss when the halfway soaked material of your knickers slides down your legs.Full lips tracing the contour of your folds, rough finger pads tapping ad rubbing and tapping again until you're spasming, "hol-ly ssh-shit" , you breathe out, rutting your hips up and up towards Chan who smirks and grunts and keeps his pace steady so you don't lose momentum.

Your temples pulsating, the oxygen seemingly abandoning your lungs, you choke out a moan that has Chan go jelly in the knees, watching you climax by his hand is making him wanting you impossibly more.

"I'm going to grab a condom...", he whispers on your lips, kissing them sweetly, momentarily bringing you back down on earth where you can stick your hand in his slightly matted hair and pull him for one more kiss, or two: "can you kiss me just a little longer?", you plead, feeling your eyelid heavy on your eyes, blissfullness and peace trying to take over the remaining nerves bubbling up in your stomach.

Chan chuckles and carefully lays down on top of you, slotting himself right in between your thighs, his boxers riding down in the process,"of course sweet girl, you get all the kisses you need". He looks at you with adoring eyes, eager to kiss you just as much you are to kiss him. He lets you roam his body with your hands, caress his arms and his back as you get lost on his tongue, your fingers softly pulling at the ends of his hair.

When you're both finally out if breath you help him out of his boxers, silently gasping at the sight of him and just how ... sizable he is. You try to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come while he slips on a condom, your heart a few seconds away from exploding from how fast it's beating. 

Chan hovers you once more, the flex in his arms muscles so prominent you want to clamp them down and squeeze so bad just to relieve some tension: "are we-are we sure you're gonna ...fit? like are the laws of  physics a thing?" you blurt out so candidly and your boyfriend quite literally doubles over in loud giggles.

Oh my god you could not love him more. He's giggling and squeaking and he's oh so hard for you and he's blushing up to the tip of his ears so endearingly and he's looking at you so softly so lovingly your love for him just shoots through the roof.

"I promise it's going to fit, I'm not going to break you, y/n", he reassures you, bending down to kiss you slowly, "you're in control yeah? we can stop anytime, just say the word", he continues, gently lowering himself down until he's almost fully aligned in between your thighs, not before making sure you're nodding your approval, smiling weakly, "actually ..do you want to be on top? Would that make you feel more comfortable? you can easily se the pace while you're on top of me", he offers, placing a soft peck on your cheek.

He looks so beautiful from down here. You can feel his whole body touching yours, the warmth of it, the smoothness and roughness of it too. And you can look straight into his eyes and run your fingers through hi hair.

There something so reassuring and calming in being encaged underneath him, it's oddly making you feel calmer despite how nervous you are deep dow: "I'd rather stay right here if that's okay, I feel safe".

Smiling widely, Chan holds your face, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs, gentle strokes tracing the outline of your smile lines and your nose. This close up you can see the few little faint, light coloured freckles on his nose and his cheeks, the single individual sparse hair of his eyebrows, the tenderness in the lines of his full lips.

You embrace him, wanting nothing more than feel all of him, and you're so focused on that handsome face of his you register he's adjusting himself inside of you only a second later when the air is temporarily sucked out of your chest.

It doesn't hurt, contrary to what you thought your whole life so far, perhaps because of how tender and sleek you were already, but it just feels a bit uncomfortable , a bit new at first. But not painful at all.

He starts moving ever so slowly, slipping in and out of you as he holds your waist and then your hips and then your overall frame once he realises you're both adjusting to one another bodies.

You instinctively lace your arms around his neck, inadvertently pulling him closer to you just as he begins to move a little faster, a whimper leaving his lips, making your head spin, "oh my ... fuck you feel amazing ...", he purrs.

Something primal, instinctual is set off in you. Sure, it's still not the most comfortable you've ever been but the sheer adrenaline and intense affection you feel for him is spreading all over your body, and it is enough to overpower the discomfort.

To be fair you start to even like it, that slight edge. It's quickly turning into a blindingly pleasant friction.

Heart palpitating, you tighten your grip around him, your hips moving in synchro with him as he goes in and out of you, now starting to sweat profusely and getting red and splotchy all over his torso, looking ridiculously hot, the feverish kissess and hisses and soft grunts you exchange making it all the more arousing, you belong to this man, you think. And it feels great.

Chan slows down just a bit, eyes dark but bright with genuine awe at you, holding him like that, like you never want to let him go, seemingly enjoying yourself judging from the sounds you're making, the way that you're moving.

It's just the erratic breathing that's concerning, reason why he now breaks his fast pace considerably, not deflating into softness yet but definitely delaying his own pleasure: "are you alright love? you're breathing funny" he chokes out.

You hurriedly scramble to push yourself up and wrap around him like a koala, kissing his neck repeatedly, "I'm good, I'm good I love you I'm good, don't stop please don't stop", it almost comes out on a whine but your heart hurts in the best way for just how insanely sweet and attentive he is.

Chan looks immensely relieved, he chuckles lowly, biting down his bottom lip, "you're doing so well, taking me so well, baby. But are you sure you're good? you can always invoke Scooby Doo".  

Tension cut with the umpteenth outburst of giggles at how silly this sounds, it takes you a minute to fully regain your composure and kiss him in reassurance once again, "I'm perfectly fine, no need to call him". Chan smashes his lips into yours, his hands climbing up your body to squeeze and stroke and trace invisible patterns that he then wets with kissess.

The bed rocking with the commotion you two are causing, you squeeze your now weak thighs around him again and again he thrusts into you a few more times until the veins in his neck start popping out and the beads of sweat on his forehead roll down his cheeks. 

His face contrite with excersion, he grinds his teeth and breathes out loudly, "fuck -fuck I love you -AH -fuck", he twitches and writhes, and visibly holds off his release for as long as he can, going all in with tapping motions on your clit while still pushing in and out a little slower, your vision getting progressively more blurry from the double intense stimulation.

That until he can no more and just climaxes hard: oh he's loud. 

Louder than he has ever been before, not even in a vulgar way, just in a very exhausted very pleased way.

But Chan's is a pleaser, and he likes to give more than he likes to take: though still panting and puffing air out, he makes sure you get your release too. All over him and your white linen sheets beneath your bum.

You slowly let go of him and spread your arms out on the mattress, tired out of your mind but in  complete utter bliss too as you close your eyes and inhale and exhale rapidly.

Out of the corner of your eyes you see him roll off of you and throw away the condom, he grabs something from your bathroom and returns to you with a stupid grin on his face, "let's get you all cleaned up sweetheart", he says gently, proceeding to dab around your body with what you can only presume is a towel. 

You smile timidly and let him do his thing, way too comfortable and meek and relaxed to move an inch to help him, you barely stroke the hair away from his forehead and observe how fast your chest is rising and falling, "I-ve -I've got wet wipes in the second drawer", you murmur, and Chan promptly retrieves them from the nightstand you just pointed at, doing his best to clean the both of your dampened, slightly sticky bodies.

Afterglow. You never knew the true meaning of the term until this very moment as you observe Chan's serene expression, he rests peacefully on the other side of the bed, his hands lazily tracing your spine up and down while you listen to his heartbeat, your blushed cheek pressing down on his chest.

He suddenly starts sniffing your head, humming contently underneath his breath,"how do you manage to smell like fresh roses right now, I don't understand", he whines softly , kissing your hair and then the tip of your nose, breaking the comfortable silence you had fallen in in the sweetest way possible.

Your lips inevitably stretching into a smile just for him, you turn your face and look up at him to peck his lips, "your cleanliness might have rubbed off on me too, who knows. You never smell bad either".

Chan giggles at your cute response and nudges you closer to him, "I have to confess I got a bit self conscious when I started to sweat badly. You were laying there underneath me, naked and fucking beautiful, and I was like yeah I'm Korean I don't really smell when I sweat but I was so nervous and afraid I was going to hurt you I thought my stress levels were going to mess with my own chemicals haha".

It sounds light hearted and not that serious at all cause he's laughing and playing it off but you know this man so well you instantly recognise it actually takes him a lot of courage to be this vulnerable and honest, your heart swelling up at just hearing him talk like that. 

"I'm so sorry you were stressed. If it helps at all I didn't really notice to be honest. You seemed so confident and assured, I genuinely felt like you knew how to take care of me. And you didn't hurt me in the slightest, I feel like you were actually so gentle", you admit sincerely, brushing your hands over his pectorals, and he hums almost timidly in response, as per usual, way too humble to accept compliments.

"Did you hold back, at all?", you ask after a little while, the seed of suspicioun settling in your heart, not out of malice but out of the care you know Chan is unable not to extend to you, "I didn't. Not intentionally anyway. I tried to be gentle and not overwhelm you since it was your first time but other than that I wouldn't have done anything differently even if we were causally having sex on a random night. I'm glad you didn't feel the need to call Scooby-Doo ehehe".

You both giggle and bash in the profound intimacy that is embracing each other like this, naked and happy. "Like I said, you were so careful and caring I was quite alright the whole time. Sorry for the silly jokes though, I was trying to be funny to drown out the nervousness. And also you're actually bigger than I thought I swear I was unprepared".

Chan starts to laugh so loudly he shakes and vibrates and you think he's going to choke any minute now. So you laugh with him too, obviously, while still having to actively hold on to the sheets or you know you're going to roll off the bed.

"You are the silliest cutest girl, never apologise for being you, please I love you so much it hurts" he chuckles happily, kissing you over and over, joyfulness bursting out of him.

[traumacatholic]

Whenever I try to return to this blog, I always tell myself “Okay, I’ll start making X,Y,Z content” and then…life happens. I had to make the decision to put the cat that I’ve had since I was like 9/10 years old down - there was no way for her to win the battle with cancer that she had. And I didn’t want to let her down by keeping her alive for my own sake while she was getting into more and more pain. Then in January, I had to put my other cat to sleep. My gran’s dementia is continuing to worsen and I’m in a position where I am struggling to access any kind of resources for her - here resources are a postcode lottery, and we do not live in an area with many options. Options further afield are also not options because everything here works in catchment areas and I cannot drive to transport her elsewhere anyways. We’re currently on the waiting list for a Care Needs Assessment to see what kind of support the Council can offer us. The responsibilities of being a full time carer on top of my own disabilities are tough to say the least. I currently have no ability to earn money outside of my disability payments because there’s nothing I can currently do outside of caring for my gran.

I have not been to Church in some months. I do pray sometimes, but for other people. I can’t remember the last time I prayed for myself. On Monday, I am going to be phoning the doctor and asking to get put back on antidepressants because my suicidal thoughts have been overwhelming me. I have been considering reaching out to a Priest - of any kind, and I just. I’m scared of rejection I guess. I’m just feeling very lost. I do not know if I believe in God, or rather, I do not know if I believe in my ability to practice faith. It has always felt like so many barriers get in the way. I do not know what I believe. I feel as equally sick and anxious about Orthodoxy as I do Catholicism. I guess there is a part of me that wants to return to being faithful, in some way. And equally as much of me is just so exhausted by the situation that I am currently stuck in. Sometimes faith felt like a comfort to me, but more often that not, it just felt like banging desperately against a wall and hoping Someone would hear me.

Back when I was couchsurfing in a place where I could attend an Orthodox Church, sometimes I would drag myself out of bed even though I had spent the night miserable and suicidal and then I would get told off in Church for sitting down during parts of the Liturgy due to exhaustion or for forgetting my veil. Every time I tried to pursue actual Catechism other things got in the way. But this is not unique to Orthodoxy, because I had similar experiences in Catholicism of feeling isolated and dismissed.

I don’t really know what I’m asking for at this point. I’m just really in need of prayers, maybe. I don't know. Everything going on and that has went on is just a lot. I’m sorry that I always come on here to be such a bother to other people.

[bebsi-cola]

thinking about like growing up like you do and. when you're disabled or nd or whatever, you're kinda always struggling to get a foot in the door wrt getting on with peers, family, teachers, etc. which means you're always stuck at least half outside. and if you're lucky something you do is considered endearing/pitiful/funny enough that people respond positively to it. like making jokes (speaking normally) or being the group dunderhead (asking questions) or the baby or the sad little puppy or whatever. and it's not really acceptance but it is a form of social approval even though you're both making jokes and the joke at the same time. and i think one thing that we learn to do is to lean into this. pretend not to understand something we do, act silly, joke about being the dumb one or whatever it is. be helpless because it's just so endearing. and you c.an get a surprising amount of approval this way, because you're essentially playing to people's biases and expectations. but there's something about growing a bit older and finding it tired. and having to make a decision to throw away that clown suit and sorta just be yourself. the yourself that people might have unlikable or annoying or boring. and it's hard to throw away something that was part of your identity for so long because, more than anything else, it forces you to demand respect from other people. to acknowledge that, actually, yeah you're a person and not a circus dog. and maybe, actually, them treating you like that was a fault on their behalf. that actually it's wrong and you can ask for respect. that someone like you wanting to be respected as a human being isn't a joke or a laughing matter. and the people who treat it like it is kinda suck actually.