#implied ableism

[terresdebrume]

"I won't let them touch you" for your dead boy detective agency boys

Thanks for the prompt friend! :D Sorry it took so long, I was at work and then I got plagued with The Insecurities

This fits the possessive side of things slightly better than the dramatic one? Idk. I feel like I've failed to comply with the rules, even though I like the snippet x)

Anyway, thanks again, and if anyone else wants to send a prompt the list is right there

The sun beats down on the town square, bright enough to hide the outside world behind a veil of golden light and turn cousin Katherine's dress into a blinding beacon of virginal purity. Whatever one thinks of the concept, Edwin admits to himself, there is no denying that summer weddings occasionally provide such vivid image as to at least explain how it may have come to be. Nevertheless, he stays away. Of his three cousins, Katherine is the one he always felt the most kinship for, and he would not have missed this ceremony for the world, and yet--Edwin's knuckles brush together, gloveless skin shot through with electricity at the realization, and Edwin jolts his hands apart again. He tries to shove them into his pockets, only to pull them out once more when he remembers not to break the lines of his navy suit. Trying to settle them at his side proves no more fruitfull: the pose feels unnatural and constrictive, as if his hands were pulling against some kind of invisible tie.

"Here," Charles says, stepping between Edwin and the aisle, the lean line of him neatly obscuring the sight of Edwin's hands. "Have at it for a minute, yeah?"

It takes a moment for Edwin to understand, and when he does hit throat immediately constricts with emotion. They have never truly talked about this quirk of Edwin's. Not in the way they perhaps should have, at any rate. It is largely Edwin's fault: for all that he has learned to pursue his interests more openly and unashamedly, there are some areas of his life he has yet to dare confront. Cut and dry is all well and good, but even he can be made to appreciate the value of ambiguity. And so: they haven't talked about it. The way Edwin's fists knead against one another without thought whenever he feels tense, the way he rarely wears less than three layers of clothing if he can help it. The way busy weeks at work make him come home impatient to shed them, the very contact of cloth against his skin so intense as to feel like pain. The way loud noises make him want to stick a pencil in his ears, sometimes.

They haven't talked about it, but Charles took note anyway, and never once expected Edwin to change. Edwin, almost overcome with gratitude, lets out a long, quiet sigh of relief, and leans forward until his forehead can rest against the back of Charles' neck.

"It's no use, you know," he sighs, murmuring to ensure his voice won't be carried out to where his paternal grandmother is slowly walking towards the door. "The minute they see--"

He does not stop himself from pressing his fists together this time. Doesn't try to ignore the tightness of his shoulder, or the beating of his heart--and because he doesn't try to pretend they aren't here, they grow smaller. More manageable, in a way, than they ever were when he was alone. Without quite meaning to, Edwin smiles down at the back of Charles' suit, red in a sea of greys and blues. Here, hidden behind Charles, Edwin knows no one will try to pull his hands apart.

"You don't worry about them," Charles says, quiet but firm. "I won't let them touch you."

Charles once slapped Edwin's father's hands in the middle of dinner at the Ritz, all for the crime of trying to stop Edwin from mashing his fists together. Edwin belives his latest proclamation immediately, and without reservation. Still:

"You cannot fight my entire family," he says, just for the pleasure of hearing Charles put on his cocky voice and retort:

"Just you watch. First one to look a little too close gets whooped on their bum."

Edwin, despite himself, finds himself chuckling, straightening up until he can look at Charles properly. The light from outside lines the edge of his cheek in golden light the hoop in his ear as bright as a halo. He is a flame in the darkness of the church, bright and warm as a fire in the hearth. Edwin, born and raised in the icy cold of a winter lake, can never get enough.

"Surely," he says, "you don't meant Granny Gladys."

"Especially Granny Gladys," Charles retorts. "I'm not gonna turn my back and let her get me with her rollator."

Edwin, with some difficulty, bites down on a burst of laughter. In front of him, Charles turns his head just far enough to flash a wicked grin, sharp and shameless in a way that makes Edwin's stomach expand into the warmest of feelings. Charles must see something in his face then, because he turns serious, hands coming up to frame Edwin's face as he looks into his eyes and says:

"I'm serious you know. If your father tries to slap your hands again, I really will send him down on his arse."

"I believe you", Edwin says, insides turning embarrassingly gooey at the fierceness of Charles' tone.

"Good," Charles says, still frowning in intensity. "There's nothing wrong with you. There's nothing wrong with your hands. I know I haven't been where I should have been--"

"Charles," Edwin interrupts, heart picking up speed with the alacrity of a racing car, "you don't--"

"No, listen to me," Charles insists, hands pulling gently at the sides of Edwin's face until their foreheads touch, "no more hand slaps. No more eye contact. I couldn't be with you these past seven years, and I'm sorry--but I'm here, now, and I don't care what anyone in your family says, as far as I'm concerned, unless you want to, you don't have to look anyone in the eye ever again."

Edwin stares, half feeling like he is about to liquefy. He feels so, so warm here in the coolness of that church, warm like the sun in spring after a long winter. Warm like a nice sweater on a winter evening. Warm like Charles' smile, like the way he only ever takes Edwin's hand in his with love, like the way the only thing he ever did with Edwin's fist was wrap his hands around them like a shield. Edwin stares, and swallows hard, and catches Charles into a crushing hug before he can do something absolutely daft like kiss him right here, where all his family could see.

[antarctite]

one of my fav designs of all time !!!!! fainéant girl by @weevildoing

tried my hand at a WHILL wheelchair but i had trouble with the angle so i hope it suffices <33 also took bg inspo directly from the sewing machine in the mewsic video

version with some of the lyrics under the cut:

[feebix]

Soo jsyk if you genuinely think “narc abuse” is a valid term or if calling someone a “narcissist” is inherently synonymous with abuser dni. I dont want people demonizing disorders that are HEAVILY trauma based on my page. Yeah.

[lollytea]

/eating disorder mention The choice of Hunter doing ballet is fascinating, and the fact that it's still something he does when he's left stardom. While not as well known, it does come with a lot of the same pressures associated with showbiz, and the sport has a heavy association with eating disorders. But I'm not sure how much of that pressure exists if he doesn't actually perform. Which is to say, what is Hunter's relationship with ballet?

(More talk about the eating thing under the cut, that some might be uncomfortable with. Also a lot of ballet Hunter talk.)

So I tagged that other post with ED just in case, but I'd like to clarify that it's not exactly the condition that Hunter deals with.

There's a difference between an eating disorder and disordered eating and Hunter suffers from the latter. It's not a mental health issue so much as a physical condition that has resulted from having his food intake monitored for his whole life. These circumstances can lead to EDs but it's fortunately not something Hunter developed.

However, other people being so obsessed with his weight and body led to him being put on very strict and nutritionally lacking diets. Hunter isn't allowed to eat a lot so his stomach has adjusted.

Which makes it physically difficult for Hunter to immediately digest healthy sized portions once he's in a safer environment. He wants to. But every time he tries, his stomach rejects it and it comes right back up again.

So he needs to take it slow and gradual. Slightly larger portions every time until his stomach is accustomed to the new intake size. It takes a few months but he gets there.

Hunter genuinely loves eating.

Anyway on to the ballet. And like, it was absolutely forced on Hunter when he was young out of a creepy obsession to keep him slim while also training muscle so that his body will be aesthetically appealing enough when he's older.

Hunter is not built to maintain the body he currently has. His natural metabolism is insistent on a bit of chub on his bones, so he's required to push himself extra hard to burn it off.

Philip is gross, man. But he's aware that in order to monetize a teenage boy, it's in your best interest that he be at least somewhat attractive to teenage girls.

So the origins of Hunter's ballet hobby came from the same place as his disordered eating (Adults' sense of ownership over his body.) but they are not linked in that way. Like one does not contaminate the other, at least in Hunter's mind.

He doesn't perform ballet publicly, which is one source of pressure off his shoulders. However, not being public about it comes with its own set of challenges. Namely the stress of keeping it a secret.

It was Philip that decided on ballet to keep Hunter fit but he was also the one who warned him that people knowing about this could lead to severe consequences for Hunter's reputation.

There's a bit of a stigma around boys who do ballet. And Philip, a devoted christian man, doesn't want those rumors circulating about his nephew.

And his nephew, a devoted christian boy, doesn't either. Especially considering how scared Hunter is of himself and the thoughts he's caught himself having before.

(It's difficult being a religious and heavily closeted bisexual teenager in the mid 2000s. Especially considering you don't know what bisexual means and your interest in multiple genders leaves you in a perpetual and nerve wracking state of confusion.)

Anyway, Hunter is actually quite emotionally reliant on ballet. He enjoys it. Which is why the pressure is heavy to keep it a secret. If he's found out, it will be taken away from him.

The thing is Hunter is also an undiagnosed autistic kid who needs some form of motion based regulation in order to keep his emotions in check and ballet is what works best. It's like meditation for him. There's a dance studio on set and as long as he has a few hours in there alone to soothe himself, he's less likely to get fidgety and agitated or have an outburst on set.

Philip does not like to deprive of daily regulation hours, not because he cares about his mental wellbeing, but because its what keeps Hunter somewhat closer to "normal."

He does not want his nephew to be assessed for any mental disorders. It'd be shameful, especially for a boy in his position. So whatever keeps Hunter normal, the better.

So yeah, pros and cons.

Ballet is an extremely difficult and strenuous sport. It's not for the weak. Hunter was worked hard by his teachers. The lessons petered out a few years prior when his schedule got too packed but he continues to practise himself.

But he enjoys it. He really does. It helps him feel some sense of control, normalcy and stability when it feels like the world is falling apart.

I don't think he'd return to lessons after he leaves the spotlight and would much rather return to just keep teaching himself at his own pace. But yes, he continues to dance well into adulthood. And as a proud bisexual man, he no longer deals with the stress of keeping it a secret but enthusiastically mentions it as one of his hobbies if he's ever asked.

[ajarorworms]

fuck it mephone4 headcannons

was a little jealous of the egg bc fan was a WAY better father figure than cobs-

NEEDS schedules, if something goes off schedule he'll get upset

genuinely doesn't understand how to act "normally" around people, and especially doesn't know how to make friends

dyslexic, GAD and autistic

massive fear of blood, like he feels sick whenever he sees it bc he's not used to seeing it at all

all mephones files are keyboard smashes or dumb phrases

feels so awkward holding a regular sized phone, he doesnt know wether it's like holding a figurine of yourself of holding a baby

speaking of babies he has no clue how that shi works, for a while he assumed that everyone else was ALSO artificially made until mepad informed him they arent, but when he inquired further mepad just laughed and shook his head, to this day mephone still doesnt know

he also doesnt know how to take care of a baby, or a child, since he basically is a child-

used to stim (autistic ass /j), doesnt anymore bc cobs always told him to stop (grrrr i hate corn)

has trouble putting his feelings into words/telling people how he feels (eg, "i feel sad" or "im doing good!") since he doesn't even understand 90% of his emotions anyway

RUSTY ASS MF

gets a mini jumpscare any time he sees a meeple store in public

cant fucking drive

once unscrewed his arm and threw it at someone

use to talk to the meeple employees and ask them stuff, even though he wasn't rlly allowed

sometimes he struggles with stairs bc his little robotic brain can't understand them

changes his wallpaper every april 1st to fuck with his contestants

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

WIP Wednesday

Wasn’t planning on do this, but got inspired by @kayjaydee17‘s amazing teaser, I hope that’s okay.

Warnings for blood, injury, fire, sensory overstimulation, and very brief references to noncon and ableism.

Here's a recipe:

Take a girl. Make her part Na'vi, part Avatar, part demon, part miracle, part future Tsakarem, part future warrior. Make her the daughter of three mothers--one living, one dead, one beyond such categories--and a soldier father at war with a hungry ghost.

Shift her one step to the left, so that she sees the world the way no one else quite can. Give her a brain that haunts her with seizures and strangeness, give her a planet face alien invasion, giving a strange hunger curling in her bones that she can't explain.

Take her home in the woods and send her to a strange land, where the pounding sea keeps her awake every night and the word freak haunts her steps like a shadow. Take her friend, and give him back broken. Take her brother, and give her a corpse. Take her mother and give her a woman bleeding from wounds old and new, struggling not crumble under them all.

Add a bunch of bruising hands, snap cuffs, hungry eyes as she kneels on a deck with her sister at her side. Leave her with enough innocence to only sense how much worse it could have been, how lucky she was, enough knowledge that suspect that others (Monkey Boy) weren't so fortunate.

Stir her up with terror and blood and fear, the weight of pleas on her tongue and in her ears. Send her running through a dying ship with her family and the screams of tearing metal ringing through her skull, grinding her to dust.

Bring past the boiling point, high enough to burn.

Take a deep breath and wait.

They kept Tuk from falling into the darker bowels of the ship, but the access hatch sliced Mom's ribs open. Not as deep as it could be (Kiri can see a flash of someone else's memory, her brother heaving for air on a dull red rock) but deep enough to leave her panting on the tilting deck of the ship, heaving for air.

"Fuck," Spider rasps, hands pressed next to Kiri's against Mom's damp skin. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Blood drips from his own chest, mixing with Mom's cut, and honestly there's probably some kind of metaphor or whatever there, like a song, but right now Kiri's head is too full of screaming to contemplate it.

Besides them, Tuk whimpers. She's curled up in a ball next to them, hands pressed over her ears, and Kiri feels so desperate to do the same it hurts. She wants to curl uptight, wants to rock herself into oblivion as she loses herself in her own head, her own body, reclaiming each fragment of them as her own.

Mom coaks, eyelids fluttering. "Go," she grits out, hand joining Spider's and Kiri's to press against her stomach. "Come back for me."

"We’re not going anywhere," Kiri shoots back. Her tongue is numb with smoke and her head is buzzing with heat and she has never felt as lost as she has today; her voice comes out a smoke-cracked, desperate growl, impossible to recognize.

Everything's loud, everything so loud, fire screaming and crackling until she's terrified of having another seizure. Her hands shake and she wants to press them to her ears, but she'll get blood on them, sinking down the canals and burning up her brain.

Her wrists hurt, aching with the memory of cold cuffs and cold railings, and her throat is worse, a faint sting from the blood crusted on her neck. Not like Mom's or even Spider's, but the knife had been so cold cutting her skin, and the voice curling in her ear had been colder still. 

Hold still, little lady, the demon purred in her ear, voice like rotten honey dripping down her back, and she couldn't breathe. She still can't breathe.

She feels Tuk's fear along with her own, jittering over Kiri's skin. She can pick up on the terror Mom's trying so hard to hide, the grief and pain and sick creeping strands of resignation in that heart which has always been so strong. Kiri's sickeningly grateful she can't feel Spider's mind, too.

She thinks about what Tuk said when they first came to this place: I want to go home. Kiri wants that too, especially now; wants the quiet of the woods wrapping around her like a heavy blanket, the familiar sights and sounds keeping her sane. She wants to go back to the forest as it was before the Sky People came, when it was just her and the people she loved, when being different felt like a blessing instead of a burden growing heavier every day.

"Leave me," Mom insists. Kiri just shakes her head wildly, tears tracking down her face.

Mom's wrong, she is, but there's still no way she's swimming off this ship with her wound. They need something to hold her, they need herbs for her wound before it bleeds out, they need it to be yesterday or two years ago before everything started hurting so much.

"Great Mother," Tuk sobs, little voice shaking. "Great Mother, help us, please, please..."

Please, Kiri joins in silently. She grits her teeth and pushes her mind into the chaos, the endless spiraling noise, struggling to stay grounded as her head throbs and her hands shake. Great Mother, someone, anyone. Help us.

Around her, she can feel the terror of ocean creatures fleeing from the fire, the pain of those caught up and burning. She can feel the flash of Metkayina warriors still battling in the distance, taking revenge for all the terror and grief the Sky People have inflicted on them.

Somewhere she can catch Dad and Quaritch battling, fragments of hate like nothing she's ever known. She thinks she's feeling echoes of Lo'ak and Tsireya, the deep slow consciousness of Payakan, but it's impossible to pin any of them down.

Deeper than all that is Eywa's heartbeat shuddering through her bones, a wild, almost frantic beat, or maybe that's just her imagination. Maybe she really is crazy, maybe there's nothing, but Kiri can't believe that, she can't, or she'll break completely.

Help us, she insists, her mind balancing on the line between ragged need and iron will. Show me the way out.

[hoperoiselover]

CHAPTER FOUR OF THE KIDDELA CATALOGUE WOOOOO THIS IS CURRENTLY MY LONGEST CHAPTER, I HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3 READ ON AO3 HERE CHAPTER FOUR THE LAMB TW: Implied drinking, implied smoking, malnourishment, implied ableism, implied child neglection and abuse, stay safe <3 Jonah awoke to screaming. He groaned and covered his face with his pillow. It was too early for this. His alarm clock read 7:17 A.M. What was going on this early in the morning? It was summer for god sakes! He had no school; which Jonah was grateful for. “Mmmhm… Five more minutes…” He muttered, half asleep. “JONAH WHY IS THERE A KID IN YOUR CLOSET?!” His mother, Eliana Marshall, stood in front of his closet that was now open. She stared straight at her son with disbelief and fear. Her messy bun left strands of dark brown hair in her face, her eye bags made her look stressed and exhausted, and she was. Adam was awake as well, he was much more aware of the situation at hand than Jonah was. He looked back at Jonah and his mother, too stunned to speak, afraid that if he said something it would bring him more trouble. He backed up against the wall of the closet and held his breath. “JONAH WHAT DID YOU DO?!” She was panicking. Whose kid is this? Why does her son have him in his closet? How long has he been here? She had so many questions but none were being answered at the time. Jonah finally opened his eyes realizing what had happened. He sat up quickly and looked back at his mother with fear. “Y-You won’t tell Pops about this will you?...” He asked his mother. If Pops found out about this he would be a dead man… Then again he was more afraid of what would become of Adam if Pops got to him. “...Depends...I’d like to know what is going on here.” Eliana responded, taking a deep breath. She wasn’t going to punish Jonah if it was all meant in good spirit. Her son was a very sweet and thoughtful boy, he wouldn’t do anything with malicious intent.. Besides, he was just a kid. Plus, Mervin wasn’t going to let this slide if he found out… She would keep this a secret to protect Jonah and the blonde boy… Anything to protect her son from her unhinged husband. “...Pinkie promise?...” Jonah looked at his mother, tears forming in his eyes. He was biting his nails out of anxiety, he knew he could trust his mom, but he was still unsure. “Oh Jo…okay,...I promise…” She grimminced at the sight of her anxious son. Eliana knew that Jonah got overwhelmed easily. She had always tried to find ways to help him ease his reactions, but she could never figure out the reason why he acted like this. She went over to her son and sat next to him. She held out her pinkie finger and smiled softly. She knew that Jonah was afraid of his father, and she hated that she was afraid of that man too. Someone who she had once loved and admired so much made her feel unsafe and dreadful. She has thought about divorcing the man, but she needed him to help give Jonah a good life… She didn’t want Jonah to have to suffer like she did when she was a kid. She cringed at the memories of her past and looked back at her son. Jonah clasped his small pinkie finger on hers and seemed to have calmed down a little, she could still see how he was suppressing wanting to bounce himself a little. He would move a lot or fidget when he got anxious or nervous. Eliana didn’t know why, but she didn’t care. This was her son, and she would love him no matter what he did. He could never stay still no matter how hard he had tried. During formal events where Mervin had brought in co-workers and clients over for dinner, Mervin would scowl poor Jonah for making the wrong gesture or moving too much in his seat. Eliana argued with her husband saying that he was just a kid, he was only five, and that Mervin shouldn’t expect Jonah to be perfect all the time. Mervin would only roll his eyes, pull out another one of those damn cigarettes and smoke, sometimes even leaving the house in the middle of the night and go.... Somewhere. Eliana never knew where her husband went during those nights. “Now can you tell me what's going on?” Eliana rubbed circles on Jonah’s back after completing the pinkie promise ritual. Adam seemed to still be tense about the situation, but the fear had left his eyes and was replaced with a sympathetic look. He left the closet and sat next to Jonah, holding his hand in the process. Maybe this kid wasn’t so bad, Eliana thought. He seemed kind and gentle towards Jonah which relieved some stress off of her shoulders a bit. “U-um… so,...,” Jonah looked at Adam and rubbed his thumb against the blondie’s pale hand. Adam nodded his head, giving Jonah permission to tell his mother what had happened last night. “I- was looking at the t.v.. a-and… Stanley t-told me he could make friends come from thin air…. A-and… I-I wanted a friend,...” Jonah sniffed and cried softly, shaking a little due to the pressure of telling his mother the truth. “Deep breaths hijo…No one is rushing you…” Eliana ran her fingers through Jonah’s dark brown hair as she smiled softly, waiting patiently for Jonah to recollect himself. She knew that Jonah struggled to make friends, the kids at his school were cruel and rough. Jonah wasn’t like that, he liked music and shiny stickers. Sure he’d sometimes rough house with his cousins, but other than that he was a pretty gentle kid. Adam looked at Eliana for a second and quickly looked away once he realized she had seen him staring at her. “I.. heard something from the kitchen when you and Pops were fighting and I found Adam,” Jonah explained to his mother who nodded her head at Jonah. “And you decided to make him a bed in your closet because?...” She looked at Adam and Jonah, continuing to talk softly. “Adam was tired, and….,” Jonah paused for a moment,” I didn’t want Pops to find him… y-you won’t take Adam away from me right Ma’?...” Jonah looked at his mother with teary eyes. Eliana could already see that Jonah had grown an attachment to Adam,... oh boy… She felt bad for her son. She would have to eventually take Adam to the police station so they could find and contact his parents, but then again,... he came from the t.v…. Well… sort of. She wanted to trust Adam but something was wrong… “No,.. i’m not taking Adam away from you Jonah,... but you need to understand that we can’t keep him here… He probably has a home and family that misses him…” She sighed and looked at the boys. “NO! I WANT ADAM!” Jonah pouted and held onto Adam’s arm. Adam looked shocked and a little bit sad. Eliana couldn’t tell if Adam was sad because of the fact that Jonah wanted him to stay, or because he missed his family…. If he had one that is… “Jo,...your mother is right… I can’t stay here forever…” Adam hugged the smaller boy as Jonah continued to cry into Adam’s dirty, white shirt. “No! I-I don’t want you to leave!” Jonah cried, Eliana could feel her heart crack slightly. This was Jonah’s first friend… taking him away now would be brutal. She contemplated what to do and sighed. “Okay,... we’ll let Adam stay a bit longer… but I will be trying to find his parents… I don’t want us to be charged with kidnapping… alright?” She patted Jonah’s head. “R-really?...” Jonah sniffed and looked at his mom with one of his eyes. He was still hugging Adam. “Yup,...now come on kids, I have work in less than an hour and I’m taking you to daycare,” She stood up and tried to fix her hair a bit. “WHAT! I THOUGHT I WAS THE SUMMER?!” Jonah protested, not wanting to go to daycare It was going to be just like school, and Jonah hated school. “Up and at them soldier, come on. Oh also, Adam you can borrow some of Jonah's clothes.. I don’t know if they’ll fit you but take what you like okay?” Eliana smiled softly at the boys. “BUT MOMMMM! I DON’T WANNA GOO!” Jonah complained, his fear forgotten and replaced with annoyance. “I mean, it shouldn’t be too bad Jo..” Adam said, trying to calm down Jonah, “Maybe I could go with you..If your mother is alright with that.” Jonah huffed, crossed his arms and looked at his mom. “Can Adam come with?” He sighed. Eliana wasn’t sure. The daycare’s cost for one week was $170 per kid and Mervin would notice the extra money taken from the bank account. This would make Mervin suspicious of Eliana, and it could lead to him finding out about Adam. Yet she had work and couldn’t take care of a kid while working, and she couldn’t leave him here… “Alright,.. Adam can go with you to daycare Jonah,” She sighed nervously. “YAY! THANK YOU MOM!” Jonah smiled wide and hugged his mom. How awesome is that! Jonah wouldn’t be alone! He smiled wide and Adam chuckled behind him. “You’re welcome, now go get ready you two, we are leaving soon,” Eliana smiled and got up, patting Jonah’s head and leaving the room. Adam went over to the closet and looked around at the clothes hanging on a metal bar above. Jonah smiled, finally, now he could add that pop of color that was missing from Adam’s current outfit. “Oh! Oh! I know what you should wear! Here!” Jonah grabbed a blue sweater and a white hoodie with lamb ears on them. The lamb ears had blue bows that matched the color of the sweater. He smiled at Adam and bounced up and down a bit. Adam went silent as he looked at the clothes, he grabbed the lamb hoodie and felt its soft texture. His pupils dilate, and he rubs the fabric against his hands. “S-soft…..,” Adam muttered to himself. He put on the hoodie and sat on the floor. Oh my god…how could something be so… perfect… Adam hugged himself, continuing to feel this angelic fabric rub against his skin. This was perfect. Jonah looked at Adam with interest and astonishment. He had never seen anyone react to clothes like this before, but Jonah didn’t judge, that would be mean. “You like?” Jonah asked Adam as he smiled. “I love,...” Adam smiled softly. Jonah giggled and handed Adam the blue sweater and some black jean pants. Adam took the sweater and put it over the lamb jacket. He then put the hoodie over his head, a massive tuff of blond hair stook out from the hoodie. “You can change in the closet,” Jonah said, already holding the clothes he wanted to wear. Adam nodded his head and went inside the closest and closed it. Not even a minute later, he had gotten the pants on and he left his dirty black shorts on the make-shift mattress. Jonah then entered the closest and closed it, changing into a colorful sweater, where the torso of it was red, and the sleeves were different colors. He put on some jean shorts and his converse and left the closet. Adam was sitting on his bed. His stomach grumbled. Adam brought his hands to his stomach and held it, his face scrunched up a bit in discomfort. Jonah took notice of this. Adam must be hungry! He looked back to his nightstand to find the salad bowl of doritos, but it was gone. Drat! His mom probably took it back to the kitchen. “Come on Adam! I’m sure my Mom is making something for breakfast!” Jonah grabbed Adam’s hand and led him out his room. Jonah's assumptions were correct. Eliana was cooking some pancakes and eggs for them. She hummed to herself a song that Jonah had heard a thousand of times now. She was humming the song ‘Just the Two of Us’ by….who was it again- George Washington-...? He never remembered names like that. Anyway, he pulled out a chair for Adam to sit on, and he sat right next to him, waiting for his mother to finish cooking. “Mmmm…It smells really good, Jonah’s Mom,” Adam said, he was no longer tense. He seemed very relaxed and happy. Jonah smiled at him. “Of course it smells good! Mom makes the best food ever!” Jonah boasted, proud of his mom. Eliana giggled, bringing two plates full of food for the hungry boys. “Thank you Adam, and please, call me Eliana,” She smiled. Adam nodded and started to eat the food, his pupils dilated once again. “Aw man… I haven’t tasted something this good in forever!” Adam savored the food, enjoying every bite of it. Eliana raised an eyebrow. “In forever? What do you mean by that buddy? She questioned. Adam tensed up again and let his fork hit the plate. He slowly stopped chewing the food in his mouth. “Um… nothing…” Adam lied. “Alright,.. Make sure you continue eating, you’re skin and bones kid…” Eliana sighed, concerned for the boy that her son had found. Jonah finished his food, not paying attention to the conversation happening in front of him. He brought his plate and fork to the sink and grabbed a capri sun from the fridge. He prodded a hole into the drink with the yellow straw and started to drink it. “Oh, Jonah, can you get the extra toothbrush under the bathroom sink for Adam, and make sure you do brush your teeth. No lying to me okay?” Eliana pointed her finger at Jonah and smiled playfully. “Okay Mom-!” Jonah sighed and trudged his way over to the bathroom, grabbing the extra toothbrush. The toothbrush was blue, perfect! It matched the sweater Adam was wearing. Jonah placed it down on the counter. He had to tippy toe in order to reach the counter top. He had a stool that he could use, but he was a ‘big boy’ so he never used it. Then grabbed his red toothbrush and applied some toothpaste. The tube was hardly used. Jonah brushed his teeth and quickly rinsed his mouth before heading back to the kitchen where he found his mother putting some bright yellow converse on Adam’s feet. “Adam, sweetheart, go brush your teeth, the bathroom is over on the right okay?” Eliana put her hand on Adam’s shoulder and smiled. Adam nodded and waved to Jonah as he made his way to the bathroom. “Alright, you ready Jonah?” Eliana said as she started to pack up Jonah’s lunch box and a ziplock bag with some food. “Ummmm I think so- OH WAIT!” Jonah realized that he was forgetting a few things. He ran to his room and grabbed his backpack. He opened it and grabbed Zoomie who was still in his closet. He placed the plush in his bag and looked around his room a bit more. His eyes landed on two squishy stress toys that were on his desk. The squishies were of a white and black cats. He grabbed the toys and squeezed them together before putting them in his bag. He then saw a toy car that we wanted to bring, along with a book and another stuffed animal of an elephant. He tossed them in his bag and closed it, putting it on and heading back to the kitchen where Adam and his mother were waiting for him. “What do you have in your bag, Jonah?” Eliana put her hand on her hip and smiled. “Toys!” Jonah giggled. “Toys huh? Well, let’s hope they can make room for your and Adam’s lunch,” She chuckled and opened the bag, putting in Jonah’s lunch box and Adam’s ziplock bag. It took a while to get the bag to close but eventually it did. “Okay! Now, let’s get going okay?” Eliana sighed and grabbed her purse and car keys. While Jonah was gone she had fixed her hair to look more professional and she wore her black and white vest uniform for her job. Jonah nodded and held Adam’s hand, he bounced up and down and followed his mother to the car, leading the way for Adam. Eliana unlocked the car and helped the boys in, making sure that they were okay. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to either of the boys. She got in the driver's seat and started to drive off to the daycare. END OF CHAPTER FOUR, THE LAMB

[prof-polaris]

💭

["Augh, it took so much longer than it should have to get that work done for the sanctuary...they just won't listen to me! I'm the head of the project, I'm paying for the whole damn thing!! Why do they keep turning to Skie to answer their questions, xe don't know anything! Xe are there to take notes!! Augh!!!"]

[justaghostpirate]

if one more near-stranger gives me a cutesy nickname because i'm short and disabled i might scream

[pibsboots]

today I went into my chemistry class and my professor was using a cane and then there was that tiny voice that was like "maybe you can use a cane too"

and then she was like "oh I hurt my knee and had to ask my 80 year old neighbor to borrow a cane. it was so embarrassing." and then the voice went away.

[gillipop-plus]

at first i thought the second one meant that everyone without any mental illness is abusive. when i tell you i was confused...

"mental illnesses can increase the chance of being toxic to oneself and others"

and

"no mental illness makes you inherently abusive"

and

"mental illness is an explanation, not an excuse for toxic behaviours"

are statements that can inductively coexist.

[kidtistic]

I love puzzle piece patterns it's rly unfortunate there's a bad association w it :,(

[the-mechanica]

Got frustrated trying to switch writing applications. It's not ALL dark classically gothic romance vibes around here. It's also disability rights. Eat the rich.

[i-dont-even-noa]

Why are we at a point where people are praised for not allowing families to sit together on planes. Why are we elevating people who would rather make people miserable than having the slightest bit of compassion. Why is it considered the right thing to do to cause distress and discomfort and hurt?

This is something that keeps coming up on my news feed, and every single time I feel a little less safe. I used to have to take planes several times a year to travel to and from my home town, and every time I would be petrified that I would be stuck in a wrong seat or separated from my mother. I was terrified that because someone was willing to pay more money than I could, I would have a panic attack or an episode mid flight, which would at the very best be humiliating, at the worst, physically damaging to me or another passenger. I can only imagine a child in the same situation- autistic or not- in a loud, enclosed space tens of thousands of feet in the air, forced to sit with a stranger, because some TikTok influencer publicly berated their parents for something they likely couldn't control. For asking for some basic sympathy, some human decency.

[growling]

the way this website treats disabled people is actually horrendous

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

There are always more lives being stolen, more people to mourn. Leo joins a vigil for some of them.

_____

Inspired by The Candle Burns Low But Still It Burns by citrusella.

Title taken from the Memorial to Katherine (Katie) McCarron by Mel Baggs.

You can find resources related to the current Roe crisis on my sideblog here.

You should also take the opportunity to look up this Anti-Filicide released in its latest edition for 2023.