#its not a perfect solution but a near perfect solution so ill take it and run

[lupismaris]

Bf is out of surgery and everything went well I can breathe

[lil-miss]

Azi’s Zim is Disabled Essay

So there are a lot of different interpretations about Zim being defective that exist. There are a lot of interpretations about what it means to be defective in the first place. I would like to propose that being defective, not only relates to neurodivergence and “non-desirable” behavior (anything that goes against the Irken regime) but also certain physical disabilities, in specific chronic illnesses.

I would like to draw a line here because I firmly believe that the Irken Empire would not give a shit about limb differences. They are technologically advanced (even if their technology is mostly stolen from other species) so, to them, it would be entirely cosmetic and one could simply get cybernetics. However, a problem with the body’s systems cannot be as easily addressed. Thus, Irkens with conditions, like these would be considered defective. Due to their condition, they cannot contribute in the same way as others if they can contribute at all. They would be considered a liability. That’s right, the space fascists are probably also eugenicists (shocking no one). I mean seriously, that’s pretty easy to see. They literally genetically engineer their own people to near perfection.

The only way for a genetic issue like this to happen with the way smeets are made would be because of some kind of cloning error. Anyone reading this probably knows that a popular headcanon about Zim is that he is the product of some kind of cloning error. This is a headcanon that I agree with. So, if Zim is the product of a cloning error what saying that he doesn’t have some kind of invisible disability like a chronic illness.

Putting the lore side, when you look at the Irken Empire, as a satirical representation of America, its greed, its disregard for citizens, and its imperialism, having Zim be disabled makes thematic sense. Zim is actively disregarded by and pushed out of Irken society, many people tend to interpret this as Zim being autistic or another neurodivergent parallel, which I agree with. However, why not take this a step further, why not make a Zim physically disabled?

The closest thing within fandom spaces that I’ve seen to interpreting Zim as disabled, is making Zim autistic or deaf/hard of hearing. However, when this is written it usually has little to no bearing on the plot of whatever is being written. It is almost always a superficial detail of some kind like the occasional mention of Zim having a hard time hearing something, not understanding subtext, or wearing a hearing aid.

I don’t think this is a problem within the Invader Zim fandom; I am well aware that there is just not much fic about disabled characters in which they are actively discussed as being disabled or their disability is important to the plot in some way. I am not blaming anyone for this issue, it’s just the fact that not many people write disabled characters. I think this problem mostly comes from the fact that people are scared of messing it up. Quick message: if you think that you have a good writing idea that involves a disabled character, make sure you do your research, but fucking write it! Even if they aren’t anywhere close to implied to being disabled in canon. What is the point of fanfiction if not to give fans the space to interpret the character however they please?

Apologies for the tangent but it was important. I’m going to shift the topic a bit, onto examining a symptom of chronic illness that I see in Zim within the canon. Specifically, I think that it explains one of the main inconsistencies in Zim’s character.

Many people including myself have noticed the fact that Zim is simultaneously very smart, but also very incompetent at times. This seems to be a contradiction because someone as smart as he is shown to be, logically, shouldn’t be making some of the mistakes that he does within the canon. And I have a plausible solution to this: brain fog. Brain fog is an overarching name for a collection of symptoms that includes an inability to focus and concentrate, confusion, unusually inhibited logic skills, feeling disoriented, as well as trouble remembering and comprehending information. If Zim was intermittently experiencing these symptoms, the inconsistency of him being simultaneously a genius and on many occasions almost completely incompetent would be explained. Brain fog is a symptom of a lot of different things, personally, I interpret it as chronic pain and immunodeficiency for my Zim headcanons and my AU.

Being able to deep dive into Fem Zim’s experience with her disability as she continues her story is important to me. Describing her chronic pain is important to me. Not having a fix for her condition is important to me. Having a character that is not just disabled, but who talks about their disability, has prose dedicated to their symptoms, and has it as an important part of their character building and development is something that I do not see. Let alone anyone with a similar condition to me. Zim is that character for me, whether it’s me going into specifics about Fem Zim’s symptoms within my own AU, or me as a kid, first getting into Invader Zim, and seeing so much of myself in Zim as a character.

You can interpret Zim however you want, I’m not telling you what to do. But I would like to point out that this is an entirely underutilized interpretation that in a fandom that has existed for over 20 years know I do not know of any other genuine instance of.

My only explanation for that is that y'all are cowards. /j

[poppy5991]

MHA Meta: Negative with the Public in Disasters & Early PTSD in First Responders

Ok, so MHA really nails this one in a way that most shows do not! When you work in disaster situations, you will see humanity at its best and at its worst! On the news, you will mostly see feel good stories, but yeah stressful situations bring out the bad in people. And that’s traumatizing to witness.

Some real life examples of common occurrences:

Harassment, Threats, & Violence Against Responders and Volunteers by angry public or conspiracy theorists

People deliberately abandoning their children or elderly relatives at disaster shelters

People attempting to steal purebred or particularly cute dogs from disaster pet shelters by falsely claiming ownership

Media and random civilians trying to sneak photos of injured, sick, or deceased persons

In my experience, witnessing horrible behavior is more traumatizing than what you would expect to witness on the job. You are trained with how to cope with injury/illness/death. Not so much the general horrors of humanity.

It’s a very bizarre experience to be treated as a ‘hero’ in one respect while also being treated very poorly by the public that you are meant to be helping. You take a lot of the brunt of anger over problems caused at an institutional level way above your head.

A LOT of us (including me) experienced death threats and threats of violence to our faces doing COVID work. As well as straight up belligerence.

My trauma therapist used to work with combat vets and would say that her pandemic responder patients reminded her heavily of her work with Vietnam veterans. Because the trauma was chronic and focused heavily on ‘I’ve seen what humanity is capable of and it’s horrifying.’

People dying of the virus was not the main trauma, it was how the public reacted around it.

So the trash throwing scenes hit me right in the stomach.

And if you wanted the perfect visual metaphor of what this feels like, it’s this:

To see Deku who is carrying the entire burden. Overworked and exhausted. Being pulled apart in a million different directions by a mob.

And he is losing parts of himself to the work he is doing. I mean the apathy and horror in his eyes says it all.

Deku is displaying very early signs of PTSD: self-isolation, pushing others away, refusing to rest, overwork, refusing to talk about his experiences (avoidance)

AND the belief that you cannot share the burden with others because it is too heavy/dark/traumatizing.

Now let’s talk about All Might and what he unconsciously taught Deku. All Might is a singular symbol of peace, but this is achieved through extreme overwork, keeping secrets to himself, not trusting or confiding in others, and even working through near fatal injuries.

Opposed to that, we get this new narrative- that nothing can be accomplished alone. Deku has to rely on both the former users and his loved ones/colleagues. It’s not sustainable or healthy to bear all the burden alone. This is what Nighteye kept trying to warn All Might about.

And he finally realizes it with the heartbreaking bento scene.

But the recurring beauty of MHA is its appeal for two things: Empathy and Connection.

We get the reunion of class 1A. This forces Deku to share the burden of his experiences with peers, to rest physically, and to receive support.

And Uraraka pleads with the public for empathy; a reminder that heroes are human. And to please treat them with humanity.

So Horikoshi’s message is kind of two-fold: Trauma is a burden that can’t be endured alone AND the solution to society’s problems is empathy for others.

[justforbooks]

Veronica Henry’s How To Find Love In A Bookshop features a bookshop and the people affected by it, which makes it sound like a perfect setting for every bookworm! This is my first novel from Veronica Henry so I can’t compare it to her previous works.

Imagine being a single father with no real job or goals, and he is still a dreamer. So when you get the offer to buy a bookstore for just 5 pounds, what a beautiful and exciting possibility.

Julius is 23 years old and works at a bookshop. He is a little womaniser and one day he meets Rebecca, an American student, who after they spend a night together, chooses to stay with him in Pease brook, near Oxford. Sometimes life has its funny ways of coming at you. As fast as the pair came together, they fall pregnant, and the moment Emilia was born, Rebecca died.

30 years later, Julius dies after a sudden illness and Emilia is left alone and she is pulled between a  future that she has not planned and the responsibility for the shop.

The novel is told from different perspectives. Not only from Julius and Emilia, but also from the customers who fell in love with the store and its owner. It describes how it feels for a reader to go visit a bookstore, go from one shelf to another and pick up the books that speak to you the most. Most people also cherish the atmosphere and sometimes known by the owner and their staff and a friendly owner-customer relationship can build. Unfortunately there are no such comfy bookstores where I live, but I heard of some where it can happen!

As much as I loved to read about that, it also made my kind of frustrated. The story was a bit predictable. It was about the store, but didn’t really take place in the store, as I wished it would. I am a sucker for dialogue, but in this book there was a lot of narrating and describing the lives of the person from which point of view you are reading about in a particular chapter. Reading this book felt more like opening a door in the middle of a situation and leaving in the middle of the solution. It was a small window that opens and you are part of something that is dear to a handful of people. It felt like being welcomed by strangers and be friends in the amount of couple of hours. That is why it bothers me that I didn’t really find my way into the story and instead I felt like I was missing something. Please do not get me wrong, it is still a nice afternoon read about life changing situations. I still enjoyed to read it, I just expected it be different!

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[malfiora]

[Asylum fic]

Part of the adoption clinic

"You see?" the voice slithered in his ear "You'll probably be needing that ledge now." And it cackled as he glanced down at his bound wrists.

Again, the man cried out for someone to banish the demon clawing in his brain, and again he was ignored. He knew these walls were thin, knew that his neighbors at least had been eavesdropping on him for the past month or so, knew that the only way the keepers could have known the intricacies of his escape plan was if they had heard him mock it up aloud in perfect clarity. (He had not intended to escape, not at at that precise moment, at least; he only wanted to prove a point, and he had.)

He ceased his shouts, giving up even the sliver of hope that a body would appear. As soon as he fell silent, the voice chuckled in crescendo, dramatically making its presence known once more. As though its host could forget it.

"Not yet," it said between wheezes of laughter. "Ain't rid of me yet."

The man had long given up questioning and reasoning with the voice. It only ever answered in riddles, songs, and laughter. He originally thought his ill begotten companion merry in this respect, and even now he figured he would not mind the thing's existence so much if he himself were not the solution to every conundrum, hero of every ballad, or butt of every joke.

As it stood, the man dutifully did his best to ignore the voice, knowing the keepers would commend him for his effort (or, more importantly, rebuke the lack thereof).

"Oh, come on, man," the voice crooned, "I'm not that bad." Its laughter subsided to nonchalant humming. He could bear that much better, so the man sighed in relief.

A few minutes of near-silence passed before his companion spoke again. "I was only joking about the ledge, you know," it muttered, and it started to take on the properties of a half-forgotten ex-girlfriend.

"I know," he breathed back in response before he could stop himself.

"I'm serious!" Nancy (or was it Mandy?) cried in his mind's ear. "Don't go doing anything rash, now, you hear?"

"Yes!" He lifted a hand to wipe his face in frustration, forgetting both appendages were still bound to the bed. He grimaced when he heard the chinking of the handcuffs that would not let him go.

The voice seemed to sigh in relief. "Good. Someone had the good sense to tie your ass to the bed." The voice started to laugh, and just like that, it lost all resemblance to Mandy (Nancy?).

"Why do you even care?" he wailed. "Why do you care whether I live or die? What makes you so different from the rest?"

The laughter came to an abrupt halt. "Idiot," it hissed with what the man could only guess was contempt. "And where would I be if you passed?" (For some reason, it could not say "die" as easily as he could. Maybe it was easier to talk about losing something you already had.) "Where could I go?"

"To haunt someone else," he muttered.

"Idiot!" The voice huffed. "It occur to you yet that we two are connected? You die, I die. That's the way it works, chief. Besides," the voice added in a dangerously playful tone, "you don't really want me talking to nobody else."

"Don't I?" he asked, again before he could stop himself.

"No. You don't. Remember, I was there. For all of it."

He spent the rare silence remembering just what the voice had been there for, what it knew. His eyes widened in sudden revelation.

"Yes. All of it."

"No," he moaned, slowly writhing in his bed to escape the memories.

"I was there for Donna,"

"No."

"Richie,"

"No no no."

"even Sean."

"No!" He began to thrash about, pulling violently on the handcuffs keeping him from escaping the memories, the names, the deeds. "Leave it alone!" he cried. "Don't say their names. Leave it alone!"

Tears streaked, unrestrained, down his face, at this angle seeking asylum in his hair. His body jerked, not quite relaying the futility of his actions to his brain. After all, the organ was preoccupied with reruns of the tragic season finales of his life.

[dentistium]

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