#physical and mental disabilities are two sides of the same coin! yes there are differences but also a lot of commonalities

[swordsonnet]

sorry but saying that the accessibility needs of mentally disabled people are just preferences or about "comfort" is blatantly incorrect. if i can't enter a building because the bright lights and loud noises would send me into a meltdown, then i can't enter the building, and that's not less important than me not being able to enter a building because it's not wheelchair accessible. if you genuinely think that mentally disabled people aren't really struggling, and that it's okay to mock their very real concerns, then that just shows that you've been refusing to listen to their experiences. do better or shut the fuck up.

[roksanas]

ROKSANA SIRSK -  CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONNAIRE

BASICS -

1. Height?

Roksana is 5’4.

2. Eye colour?

Dark brown.

3. Do they need glasses?

Nah baby this human has 20/20 vision and can see in regular and magical darkness for 120 feet. It’s an invocation, but she will claim she’s just more evolved than most humans.

4. Scars and birthmark?

She has quite a few prominent scars on her hands from burns and cuts when she was training as a blacksmith. She also has a long, vertical scar beneath her ribs from a job that went sideways. She almost died before getting to a cleric; she doesn’t talk about it.

5. Tattoos and piercings?

On her right ear she has 3 lobe piercings, an industrial and a forward helix, and on her left she has a helix, a tragus, and 3 lobe piercings. As for tattoos, she has the symbols of Dol Arrah, Milil, Lathander, and the Raven Queen down her left forearm, and the symbols of Dol Dorn, Tymora, Malar, Sune down her right forearm.

6. Right or left handed?

Sana does most things with her right hand, but she’s trained herself to be useful with both in battle.

7. Any disabilities? Physical or mental.

Sana has lost most of the hearing in her left ear, and as such is hard of hearing.

8. Do they have any allergies?

Roksana is allergic to dogs and NO ONE is allowed to talk to her about it. 

9. Favourite colour?

Black, or navy blue. 

10. Typical outfits?

Sana likes well-made clothing, and most of her spending is on clothes. She wears mostly black and white. A lot of her tops are blouses, often sporting either lace, embroidery, or flowy sleeves. She loves elaborate dresses, corsets worn in untraditional ways, and interesting belt buckles. If she’s on a job, she wears a breastplate underneath a cloak or a powerful-looking coat. She’s also a fan of leather gloves.

11. Do they wear any makeup?

Sana rarely wears makeup, but she can’t resist a bit of eyeliner here and there.

12. What weapon do they use, if any?

She almost exclusively uses Obit, which is both her pact blade and her spellcasting focus. Obit likes to call itself Darthranok, and speaks to her telepathically. 

PERSONALITY -

13. Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

Sana considers herself a realist, which is to say...she’s mostly pessimistic. If she has any optimism left, it resides in Zari, who does her best to see the light in every situation when Sana is focusing on solutions. She doesn’t waste a lot of time on pessimism, but she certainly doesn’t expect anything good from others or from any situation she walks into.

14. Are they introverted or extroverted?

Introverted. Definitely charismatic and a skilled socializer, but she only gains energy when she’s alone or only around people who are close to her.

15. What are their pet peeves?

Most of Sana’s pet peeves are exhibited by her clients. She hates when people explain things slowly when she didn’t ask them to, she hates when people aren’t punctual - particularly with their payments - and she hates when people act like they know her. Above all, she hates being pitied, and even annoys herself when she gets caught up in the habit of self-pitying. Some smaller pet peeves include loud chewers, Zari wearing her clothes, and people standing too close to her.

16. What bad habits do they have?

She picks at her nails, leans back in pretty much every chair she sits in, and leaves loose strands of hair littered about the house. She always thinks she’s right, she consistently asks too much for the jobs she undertakes, and she tries to get to know people without letting them know her.

17. Do they have any phobias?

The most constant fear she has, the one that gives her the most nightmares, is losing Zari. When she’s away from Khaggon, it often keeps her up at night and she’s considering bringing her sister along on all her jobs again.

18. How do they display affection?

Acts of service all the way. She doesn’t get close with many people, but when she does choose to let someone in she’s very all-or-nothing. She will go out of her way to get that person what they need, and loves to provide for the people she loves. She’s not especially physically affectionate, but when she’s exhausted she can’t deny that she likes to cuddle.

19. How competitive are they?

Oh, god. You don’t wanna know. If she gets even the slightest idea that someone’s coming for her job or for her money, she will go to extreme lengths to make sure they never try that again. She also tends to swear and yell a bit too much when playing card games.

20. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

She’d like to be a bit softer, a bit more trusting, a bit more open-hearted - if she could manage.

21. Do they have any obscure hobbies or routines?

She loves making her own knives, especially ones that are just for display with elaborate handles. For the past five years, she’s had an omelette for breakfast every morning that she hasn’t been in the wild or otherwise incapacitated. She reorganizes her closet and jewelry once or twice a month, just for kicks. She likes to gamble.

BACKSTORY -

22. What are the names and ages of their close family members? Parents, siblings, etc.

Zari, her sister, is thirteen. Esfir, her mother, would be fifty-two, and her father, Ashkin, would be fifty-one. Roksana was also close to her maternal grandmother, Shirin, who would be eighty-five now.

23. Is their family alive and are they still in contact with them?

Esfir and Ashkin have been dead for almost three and thirteen years respectively, and Shirin has been dead for eight years. Her sister is very much alive, and very much in contact with her.

24. Where are they from? City, nation?

Runswick born-and-raised, though she currently lives in Khaggon. 

25. Did they have a childhood best friend?

Ever since she can remember, Sana’s best friend has been a girl named Evangeline. She’s a wealthy merchant’s daughter, and has recently started a family in Runswick. They rarely see each other anymore, but they do still write to each other.

26. Have they had any pets?

The only pet she had growing up was a cat named Stinky. She found him as a stray when she was ten, and he had an incredibly pungent smell. Since then, she always wanted a dog, but their fur gives her hives and their dandruff stuffs her up - so, instead, she got Zari a gray tabby. (Zari’s always liked cats better, anyway.) Her sister named him Quincy, and though Sana is sure he’ll never be as great as Stinky, she is glad that Zari has company when she’s away. 

27. Did they grow up rich or poor? What were their living conditions like?

Sana lived in a small home, and had very little excess in her upbringing. Her parents were both righteous and honorable, and usually found that justice was all the payment they needed for their adventures. They did, however, provide Sana and Zari with what they needed, though some months were pretty tight.

28. What is their educational background?

Sana was taught by Evangeline’s governess until she was fifteen.

29. As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?

Until her father died, she thought perhaps she would be a paladin just like her parents. Then she wanted to be a blacksmith, of course.

30. What advice would they give to their younger self?

Honestly, she’d probably try to dash her hopes earlier in life. She’d tell herself to get used to things not going right. She’d probably be a badder bitch if she let go of childish dreams earlier on. This, however, is far from any advice she’d ever give to Zari.

31. Growing up, were they ever bullied or were they the bully?

She probably made fun of a boy here and there, but she was never bullied. In fact, after her father died, she was treated with so much pity that it makes her gag thinking about it. Even the children in her neighborhood acted like she was fragile.

32. Who do they look up to/who is their role model?

Herself, tbh. But also Zari, because she’s extremely emotionally intelligent and good at a lot of things that she struggles with.

PRESENT -

33. Do they currently have a place of residence?

Yes, she has a small home in Khaggon that she paid for in coin.

34. What is their most treasured possession?

If not Obit, then this particularly sharp and rad dagger that she made herself with a raven’s head as the hilt.

35. What is their drink of choice?

Any sort of liquor. She likes shots.

36. Which king/queen are they loyal to, if any?

Rolland, if she has to choose. She surely doesn’t trust him, but Hegaehend is her home, and she won’t side with anyone who’s trying to invade it.

37. Have they ever killed anyone?

Oh, yeah. She’d never call herself an assassin, but she has been paid to kill specific marks, or paid to finish jobs that had no restrictions on who was left dead or alive. Her sword also feeds on life force, and she doesn’t want to know what will happen if it gets too hungry.

38. What was their last promise and did they keep it?

She promises Zari that she’ll be safe every time she leaves, and she hasn’t died yet, so she considers that a promise kept.

LOVE -

39. What was their first kiss like, if they’ve had one?

Sloppy, gross. She was thirteen and had a crush on the guy for an entire year, and then everything good she’d ever thought about him disappeared when he shoved his tongue down her throat. He tasted like ham.

40. Are they in a relationship/have a love interest?

Nope. She has friends with benefits scattered here and there, but she wouldn’t consider them love interests.

41. Have they ever been in love?

Yes. When Sana was twenty-one, she fell head-over-heels with a half-elf named Mikas. They’d grown up in the same social circle, and he had a tendency to flirt with everyone in that social circle. But after a long night out and a talk under the stars, things were different between them. They were inseparable for a year, and it was a good year, but after that year came two more years that were much less enjoyable.

42. Have they ever had their heart broken?

Of course. She gave her all in the relationship with Mikas. It was the most vulnerable she’d ever been with someone, and he probably still knows her better than anyone. But he still didn’t want to be with her. After that one good year, he stopped trying. He stopped finding time to spend with her, stopped making her feel heard, and then he left her for some girl he hardly knew. Now, she won’t accept anything less than 100% effort from a romantic partner - not that she particularly wants one.

SPIRITUALITY -

43. Do they follow a god, if so who?

Nope! She has those religious symbols tattooed on her mostly as a joke. Probably insensitive, but she likes to keep people guessing about what her religious background is. She’s also still pretty bitter about gods and what they expect of their champions.

44. What do they think happens to them after death?

Regardless of her religious beliefs, she likes to believe in an afterlife. She’s seen ghosts and other kinds of spirits, and she likes to believe that if someone deserves to live on past their mortal life, then they will. It helps her sleep at night to think that the people she kills will live on if they deserve to, and that if they don’t deserve to, then she did the world a service.

45. What is their spirit animal?

Listen I know I said lion for Avi, but she’s a Leo so how can I not say lion…….otherwise maybe a raven or smth.

[icaruskey]

#im using 'nd' very broadly here ftr#im not bothered going into this in my actual reply for.. probably obvious reasons?#but due to the nature of physical health i also dont think this works in reverse#by which i mean that mentally disabled people don't have any issues that physically disabled people don't have#and that's gonna be controversial whatever but this isn't a 'goes both ways' kinda thing imo#im not saying that no physically disabled people are assholes to mentally disabled people. plenty are#but the people actually having these kinds of discussions are generally NOT those people#i feel like the vast majority of physically disabled people engaging in these conversations are also mentally disabled#which also means we understand firsthand what the differences are. we're not just making wild assumptions#personal#also idk if im gonna engage with this conversation further if anyone replies so dont expect me to i guess#just a heads up because i find this topic frustrating

Mental and physical health are two sides of the same coin.

By admitting that there are physically disabled people who lash out and are assholes to mentally disabled people, you are proving the rule. It's shit for everyone to be shitty to each other, and yes, I'm including able bodied and neurotypical people in the mix too. It's one thing to be defensive and lash out in your own space when people are trying to speak over you in said space (ie, derailing posts or sending you asks belittling your experiences) but it's another to wash an entire group of people with the same brush.

People who are in pain, no matter what sort of pain they're experiencing, can lash out and hurt other people. It's what happens to aspec queer people, it's what happens to mspec queer people, to trans people, and it's happening with disabilities too. It's okay to be in pain and admit you are in pain.

It's not okay to hurt other people, no matter how much you think you understand both sides. Because while a lot of experiences can be shared, the array of disabilities are too vast to be one to one.

Physically disabled people telling mentally disabled people that they don't face similar issues is like my student pastor telling me I should just not worry.

It doesn't work like that and while you mean well you're being a giant asshole to an ally.

[sugartums]

The Full Heart and Emotional Availability

I.

The drive home from the Theater for Emotive Artificial Intelligence Science was in the rain on gravel roads past the one/laned bridge. The country. A lone squirrel was making her frantic search for acorns and sustenance for the winter. My winter of discontent, no more, thought she.

He should start acting differently in a few weeks, it’s done, the Maestro determined. It was all a matter of time now. His brain is sub/affecting the change through his baptismal/implanted devices as we speak. They were still current, no new insertion needed for the next twelve years. Strange:  none of the future Meridians had any recollection of the pain inflicted by violent insertion of ear-implants; a ritual unquestioned and decided long before consciousness was attained.

The Maestro remote activated the device to reconfigure the area around the corpus colosseum; (like in Rome, said Maestro), so that when she arrived back home; her live/in boyfriend would already be Engaged. Interconnected cryptic syntax; nerves talking one another or something, his being unaware of the whole affectation of his advanced personality. Blah blah blah.

He would be better that way, such as was advertised on TV.

Click click, program supra/routine engaged: Emotional Availability: EA.

It wasn’t a cheap upgrade. The MC in his electric/silver/plated desk and his silver/black hair swiveled when she balked at the non/premium covered cost of her boyfriend’s brain evolution. That’s not what it said on TV. The Maestro said nothing as prices were haggled.

Slicked back and side parted.

Long metallic pen in thin/tarantula length fingers, fingering the thing.

False/glass plate windows were back in vogue and behind him, the foggy dusty lines framed the once-scientist.

Weary and heaving downward in the chest, he determined the price again without argument. MC would indeed be the Master of the Ceremony and the coin.

She weighed her actions like a laundry list.

←←←←←

II.

The night before the upgrade he didn’t respond to her question. While watching her

decision  (re Boyfriend) stare at the plexiglass moonroof of their bedroom, flat-backed;  "Do you ever feel anything?" asked she.

“Whaat?” and a chuckle from him.

Even worse, any text messages received from him, after her explanation remembering a time-frame, or a series of events surrounding them, were answered with an “I see”.

She thought he may as well have said, “I don’t give a shite” instead of “I see”.

Halloween was over. The guise of insanity no longer an excuse for Fools.

↑↑↑↑

In the next phase, the doctor said, the subject, i.e. Raymond, would be responding more lovingly and with empathy.

It would be another few weeks before anything would happen; runtime errors, bugs, and self-deletion of wayward files.  

It was good for humans to have a heart. Every stew needs a salting.

Even some humans rejected the attempt of science to force more humanity, said the once-scientist. I don’t want this to happen, she thought.

Halloween was over. The guise of insanity no longer a suggestion. Who dresses up on the other days of the year?

←←←←

The stupefied glow of a man after orgasm reaches a point of lull for only five seconds, then he becomes aware of reality again. The Fukijawa light on a semi-warrior pose of Raymond by the wall window held for more than five seconds-- there was a time she could stare at his slim-toned stomach for many seconds after sex. In this time frame, she was getting up to clean herself off after the five-second lull. Wasn't the time used now for better things than sex? But without sex Raymond would retreat further into his Mother's figurative tentacles. Birdsmouth would be around to feed him immediately at her exit.

His body was never the problem. His sexual prowess, even without the help of botvibes, was never the problem.

His mind: was what she said in her mind. Born and raised without empathy. That kind of person. Mean sometimes. Critical of her driving. Unnaturally negative in simple conflicts.

Lush green mountain flora and sweet smelling air. Country s-curve roads in a to

p-down blood red Mitsubishi r-type.

→→→→

“The end of the story is when the people go away, then only come back as spirits,” Mirima explained to her 6-year old niece when visiting Fractiontown trying to forget about Raymond’s upgrade to complete.

“I don’t like this story, Aunty Em,  it scares me too much.”  Mirima laughed, “No, my baby, this is just a story that is not true, and what you are hearing cannot really happen, people cannot come back as spirits.”

“What about ghosts,” she was curious.

“I don’t know about ghosts, but your grandma is still with me, I can feel her. “  

“Do you still  talk to her anymore?”

“When I miss her, “ then a wave of emotion, silently stepped stage center from a waiting place; so Mirima let it, and let it more. Tears cannot be repressed when your heart is full.

“Stop,” said the niece slowly and atonally. Again three more times.

Mirima came home five days later.

Raymond worked at a polymer plant and got through traffic and gravel roads around  

1900ss.

His self-chosen duties were to make the dinner of fish and rice, sauces, and soy, peas and beans. Sauces and soy, peas and beans. He had an apron to protect his clothes. He maneuvered around the kitchen like one of his robots doing inspections. He amused himself by acting as they would; sharp stops and slow turning.

Control of heat and time. Watch the flame. Lower the flame.

Toss the food, Plate the table.

She sat at the supper table and looked on the outside of his deeply Jade and orange-flecked eyes, soft black eyelashes, and the Steve Martin-esque hairline from 1979. It was some kind of rage and admiration always. Both at once, unlike a cup of milk on the table. The table had other things there like a bowl of rice, but the rice would never be judged.

After dinner, she looked for some signs and was told to preview her questions slowly but surely over the course of four weeks. One question per day to solicit an emotional response. When the desired answer was received, she could then reward and affirm him through a series of phrases and personal attention.  

The physical attention was the first thing she desired from him in the commencement of their matchmaking.  Then as the progression happened, and her happiness waned, she let him move into her complex. He was more than willing to take over the financial and the household task halves. She watched him at the stove and garbage bin a

nd held back screams of rage.

But there were no sounds to describe the horror.

The secret remote engagement of the missing elements would be modulated to the maximum potential of Raymond’s emotional threshold. Max. pot. meaning using the prefrontal cortex as a type of clay, molded to make the emotional elements missing, would force the man into a more balanced being.

Dionysius and Apollo. Yin and yang. The fullness of the heart and mind.

                                        Lonely. Cold. Scared. Alone.

This morning she decided to wake early to make some muesli with honey and kiwi. Some fruits were rare and showed extra love to prepare for someone.

He came to the table dressed and pressed. He had a smile on his face. She asked how he was doing, he gave her a tiny pinch on the shoulder at the breakfast bar while bussing his bowl to the island.

Oh god, a rush of dopamine, oh yes. Thank you for touching me. It is happening, It is

happening! She suppressed the joy/wave but smiled back. Have a good day honey, I love you.

Love you too. And into the gravel driveway to the Mitsubishi Eclypse.

III.

Because this will help us. Because he is disabled by lack of emotion. Because he is a man.

He will thank me later for this. She wandered mentally in this matrix for the rest of her morning. She had to take off this day to get some bloodwork done. She was having her own brain chemistry tested to make sure her evolution was in order. No new upgrades for me.

I am tired today. I am feeling slow and tired. Does this happen when someone else changes?

→→→→→→

On the desk a month later, in her computer room, was a card. It said her name in black ink. She opened it and saw the picture of a heart on the front with some kind of abstract fish swimming through it.

She had a pause before the feeling she was looking for.

Ecstasy. She had to calm her beating heart. Inside, the card said:

“I have sunk like a stone to the depths of the ocean; I am lost in devotion.”

Love, Raymond

She lay back in bed with the card on her chest and cried a joyful messy cry with minimal repression.

I want to feel this way every day please please my God I knew this would work and my dreams would come true finally

She drove off the gravel driveway looking straight ahead. This will last with her eyes unblinking at the battery of red lights that forced her to pause. She would not be stopped now. Her way was now.

→→→→→

The second card. Two months later. Know that she never brought up the cards; that would ruin it. I’m not dull in the brain, for Pete’s sake.

A picture of a saint or something, looking woeful, and in pain. Only inside a quote:

"And what God? Great Jove,

Who shakes heaven's highest temples with his thunder,

And I, poor mortal man, not do the same!

I did it, and with all my heart I did it."

She put on the computer to find an answer...it was St. Augustine, talking about sex and then going on about it in a Confessional; about the vileness of lust.  

This is not what I want..I wanted to love, I must bring this up to Raymond.

She forced with some flesh resistance, a pair of crystal hoop earrings into the second hole in each ear. It was enjoyable, the feel of the skin ripping. Take it, bitch.

That voice came from nowhere and inside her head, responding to whatever leftover guilt remained. For sneaking, for cheating, for getting what she thought she wanted.

→→→→→

There is first spring, and then there is summer. You now, do not become you later.

The person who has settled down on the train is not the same person who stepped onto the train on the platform.

True words are not beautiful.

Raymond made statements such as these. Mirima went into the bathroom to knock on her head with her fist.  She caused a flux of a person; no longer a consistent person. He was more emotional, yes. But was he sensing his brain was different? What did he know of this programming?

If he was giving her a clue, it was when helped her with the kitchen duties. He said I want you to know, I will never judge you. You can be honest with me. She turned from scooping the prickly pear fruit:

Let’s go horseback riding then, you said the smell of horses makes you sick. If you

can handle that, then I know you won’t judge me for forcing you to go.

The jumping of the beasts was horrifying to him, more so at this moment; but the lucidity and clayness of her face; this new frontal cortex made him think, ok, I will go.

Ok, I will go, he said aloud.  She shrieked and hugged him around the hips; the hips felt round and lovely, like the vulnerable thighs of a baby.

IV.

The self that travels from moment to moment, corresponding to the moving water on the waves. This is the meaning that no one experiences anything, there is simply seeing and experiencing.  

The Maestro spoke to the young woman with the gentle approach of an ancient technologist; the folding rice paper table held a few oyster shells, upside down and holding sticks.

I cannot find a place to love him, he is changing in a way I cannot compute. Maestro sighed, took a long look out the plexiglass, then sneezed with a loud AHHH before the choo.  

Recovering swiftly; I can only tell you that what you experience, and you, are the same thing, he said.

So I am looking at his changes, but my insides are not separate from his outside changes?

He ignored her question, then asked if she would take a short test, to see if her brain was doing its job properly. You know, he said, the job for the thing one owns; memories, experiences, Raymond. She laid on the couch submissively with her legs spindly, hanging off the settee.

Raymond got off the phone with the Maestro and grabbed his keys. He would be going horseback riding after all. It was time to move on to look at things he no longer feared. It was his solemn duty to learn how to enjoy himself, the man said.

Mirima was absolutely smashed from a few cocktails at the kitchen table. He was hoping she would be fine to ride when they got there in two hours. Into the deep country, away from gravel and smog. No place to bicker, only the horses. He loved her fully now, no more fear of risks.

On the hill, she was still buzzed but quite aware of her skills inherited from a family

of farmers and tillers. She opted for no helmet, her hair was sprayed and beautifully luscious with copper tones.

No, he would not jump, he would take a stroll on one of the older beasts; on a short journey in the wood while she got her courage to leap over the five-foot barriers.

It was a perfect blue/sky morning. She raced forward and the horse’s gait leaned to the left. She over compromised on the right, and her foot fell from the

←←←←

Down on the ground and neck

Slowly people around the body, she is conscious, she is ok.

Raymond took her to the hospital himself, 23 kilometers away, and raced like a wooden horse.  Carried in as a Princess...saved by actions, saved by his works. This was not in the time/frame.

In the waiting room, he sat with his hands folded, knees wide apart, facing the floor.

He was called in and she was bandaged around the head and awake. I love you he felt.

“ I love you, my dear, I have to tell you something..I know what you did, you were stalked..we will be together forever, we wanted you to accept the upgrade….” he burst into tears, the first cry of his time with her. Amidst blubbering, his head in her braless breasts, I

love you I love you...

With furrowed brows, she gently pushed his head away.

“Who are you?”