#send help please i’m disabled and can’t keep doing this

[maybesomebeesorthings]

me at work, especially now that i’m basically full time with no benefits lol (send help)

the flesh is unwilling and honestly, the spirit isn't too keen on the idea either

[l0ve-bug-m1les]

Miles Morales x Male reader

When the reader has dyslexia and has trouble with spelling certain words or just forget how to spell the most simplest words ever gets insecure about their learning disability and then falls into a depressive episode (which is just them distancing themselves from other (Miles) for weeks)

First off please let me know if i got some things wrong. I myself don’t have dyslexia, so please correct me on anything. And I hope you’re okay if you’re feeling this way. Sending love and Miles Morales your way! <33 But seriously if you need to talk I’m here, okay? I hope you enjoy!

————

Distence Distance

Miles Morales x Male!Reader

Summary: When it has once again been made apparent spelling isn’t your strong suit, your mind spirals out of your own control.

Warnings: Swearing

Your brow furrowed. Is it tom—orrow? Or tom—morrow? This shouldn’t be this hard. It’s a word. A simple word. But despite your best efforts, you can’t get it. Defeated, you lean over and quietly tap your finger Miles’ arm. He knows about your dyslexia, and helps you whenever things get a little tough. He’s never made fun of you, and has never acted like he was annoyed with you asking him how to spell things. This is quite a common occurrence, but recently, nothing seems to click. It can go from constantly spelling a word wrong, to forgetting how to spell completely. Miles tells you all the time to not worry about it, but what does he know! He doesn’t ask his boyfriend how to spell tomorrow every night!

"Hm? Oh, what’s up?” He looks at you, finishing whatever word he was writing. Your finger drags over to the roadblock on your paper as you mumble a small “Is this right?” Miles takes a look at your paper for a moment before softly shaking his head. “Ah, no, there’s only one m,” your shoulders slump, “but—uh—everything else was right!” His hands wave a little bit, trying to cheer you up. His eyes dart over you, searching for a reaction. A breath escapes your lips as you quietly thank him.

———

A few weeks later, Miles is proofreading your science paper. He’s got a red pen, and is occasionally writing his thoughts or correcting something. That’s to be expected, essays are about trial and error so of course it’s not gonna be perfect on the first try. What you don’t expect, is to find the pages covered with spelling corrections. You can’t even keep up with how many there are on the first page. As you look through, all you can see is what you got wrong. “Replace the i with an e”, “Erosion has one r”, “Con-VEC-tion, there’s a c”, “Don’t forget the—“. You quietly stop reading and get up to grab your things. Your thoughts are cloudy, even as Miles pulls you into a warm embrace to hopefully soothe your anguish. It doesn’t help.

“I gotta go,” you push away, “see you tomorrow..” Your feet lazily carry you out of his dorm room. Miles doesn’t protest. He knows sometimes being practically slapped with how much your disability affects you, doesn’t do you well. So he lets you go, knowing he’d see you tomorrow.

He couldn’t be anymore wrong.

———

Well he wasn’t entirely wrong. He did see you, but you had no intention to see him. Every glance he threw your way went unnoticed. Every time he tried to speak, your headphones went in. He saw your smile wasn’t there, and your usual glow was gone. All of these things worried Miles but he didn’t know what to do. His thoughts were focused around you for the whole day, and how he could help. In the end, he decided it’d be best if he just texted you. Maybe you just didn’t want to speak in person because of yesterday.

Yeah, that’s it. He’ll text you, comfort you, come over to your dorm, and cuddle and comfort you some more. A foolproof plan! Now all that’s left is to get through today.

———

You don’t respond to the first text.

You don’t respond to the second text.

You don’t respond to the third text.

You don’t read any of them. And he knows your read receipts are on.

Miles is frantic now. Where could you have gone? He knows you’d tell him if you were gonna be busy, and he knows he’d catch any signs of you thinking about….No. He wouldn’t let himself think about it. Maybe you just needed some space. It’s normal for a relationship, especially one as new as this. He decided to give it a day or two.

You’d come around eventually.

———

You didn’t come around.

It had been two weeks and Miles still hasn’t heard from you. You were still coming to school, but you arrived before everyone else, and somehow managed to get out before everyone left. If he tried to call you, it’d cut off immediately. If he texted you, it would stay on delivered—read if he was lucky—and if he tried to get into your room, you wouldn’t open the door. Even if your roommate was there, he’d always say: “Oh, [name]? Yeah he’s not here. Sorry.” Then the door would shut. Every day Miles tried. And every day Miles failed.

He’d spend his nights racking his brain for any clue, and reason for you to go a-wall like this. It’s not like you. Whenever something’s troubling you, he’d be the first to hear about it. For the millionth time, he tries to call your phone. And for the millionth time, you pick up. Just like he thought—

Wait what.

Miles sits up and hears quiet sobs on the other end. “H-hello? [Name]? Please answer me.” After a quiet moment you speak up. “Mhm?” Your voice is weak on the other end, but nonetheless, it’s your voice. Miles jumps out of his bed, already putting on a jacket and shoes. “Are you still in the dorms? Where are you?” He opens the window, waving to Ganke who’s woken up. “Please, love.”

“The park. The one we always go to.” Your voice is hoarse and hiccups are breaking through. “Alright. I’ll be there. Wait for me, okay?” He hops out the window and swings through the streets, keeping you on the line. At this point in time, Miles is a great swinger and has almost perfected the art. But tonight, he’s going faster than he’s ever gone before. Faster than his common sense would normally let him go. Even when making an escape, he’s careful to watch his speed just in case. Not tonight though. This is you. He’d risk everything for you.

In a matter of minutes, he’s at the park already looking for you. “[Name]? I’m here,” his eyes dart in every direction, “where exactly are you?” He jogs over to a nearby tree, catching a glimpse of a light from a phone screen. You’re silent for a few more moments as you can tell he’s the cause of those footsteps coming in your direction. So you just keep scrolling on your phone. Miles catches up to you, and before a word can be said, he’s fallen to the ground and pulled you into a hug. Possibly the tightest he’s ever hugged someone. And that’s the crack that sends the dam crumbling.

You break down and sob into his shoulder, clawing the fabric at his sides. The world no longer exists and it’s just you and him. You and the person who cares about you. You and the person who came for you. Miles’ grip tightens around your shoulders as stray tears escape his own eyes. “What happened? Why were you gone for so long?” He asks.

“I was tired of being stupid,” you manage to get out, “tired of being a burden.”

“A burden?!” Miles pulls away and cups your cheeks. “Now who told you that?”

“Don’t you understand, Miles?!” You shout. “I’m probably the dumbest person on this planet!!” He starts to object but you cut him off, “And don’t give me that “Oh but it makes you, you!” Bullshit.” You stand up and begin to pace around. “You can’t possibly wanna deal with me!” Your breath quickens and tears are still falling. “Couldn’t-couldn’t possibly wanna actually spend your life dealing with some who can’t spell for shit. Who’s always asking if he spelled—fucking i don’t know—Wednesday right.” You finally stop and stand in one place, hugging yourself tight. “I fucking hate it.”

Miles makes his way to you and pulls you into another hug. He doesn’t try to convince you otherwise because this isn’t the time. It’s time for you to let it all out, and for him to listen for as long as you need him to. He’s got you back and that’s all he needed. And right now you don’t know, but you needed him just as much if not more.

You two stay in the park and talk for what feels like hours. After two weeks of radio silence you’ve got a lot to say, and best believe your boyfriend is gonna take note of all of it.

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

A/n: OMG HOLY SHIT WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG OMG. @babyqueen17 HERE YOU GO IT’S DONE!!!

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith is well and completely aware that his boyfriend is, objectively, a bad bitch.

He’s seen him shoot through the crook of someone’s arm to disable an entire warship. He’s seen him wink and brush by seasoned Blade and send them stumbling. He’s seen him choke someone out with his legs alone. (He’s been choked out by Lance legs. Several times. He’s even instigated that happening.)

But one thing Lance is before anything else; before he is a paladin, before he is a friend, before he is a badass, before he is anything, he is a complainer.

“You never take me anywhere,” he is fond of whining, as if they are not on a floating hunk of metal and polymer in dead space at all times. Or getting shot at. They are in the equivalent of the cross-Atlantic highway at three in the morning in a century old car that breaks down every two hundred miles like clockwork, and also sometimes they just get bombed out of nowhere. That is their life.

We never do anything, he says. Bah. Sometimes he thinks he is going to scoop his boyfriend up and — throw him at something.

But he knows that would never. Not really. As much as Lance drives him batty (and he does drive him fucking batty — he’s been huffy at Keith for a week because Keith didn’t listen to him on a mission, in a dream, and died. He has had an attitude for six days), he really and truly loves Lance more than anything. He loves the way Lance snorts when he laughs and trips over his own two feet more often than not and talks in his sleep and forgets English words and shrugs about it. He loves the magnitude of Lance’s smile and the endless brown of his eyes and the way he always kisses Keith’s clavicle before bed and doesn’t know he does it. He loves the way Lance leans into him without thinking when they sit next to each other and holds his hand when they walk. He loves how Lance fights for a way to meet his eyes when missions go to shit and asks him what to do next just to help Keith focus on something. He loves the way that his jacket was mysteriously fixed the time the old thing wore a hole along the seams and Lance played dumb about it like it could have been anyone else. He loves the way Lance coos over every animal they stumble across, no matter how horrifying, the way he cries his eyes out at every single movie and smacks anyone who looks at him. He loves the way Lance’s entire person always just seems to bubble out of him, like he’s holding his bleeding heart with open fingers.

Keith loves him in a way he didn’t think he deserved. And so it bugs him, really, that he can’t take Lance places, can’t buy him every ugly flower he wants or take him to hole-in-the-wall clubs to dance like Keith knows he wants to or even just go to the space mall with him.

Floating junkmobile in space or not, Keith is going to treat him or die trying. He is.

“So we’re not even close to something with gravity?” Keith clarifies, perhaps a touch desperate.

“Farther than your brain can conceptualise to even an asteroid,” Coran confirms, with no subtle amount of amusement.

Keith purses his lips. “Could we, like…travel there?”

Coran holds his gaze for a moment, eyebrow raised, then returns to the medical supplies he was sorting through.

“I’m afraid not, dear.”

“Why not?”

“I’m quite fond of not getting ambushed.”

“What if you just dropped me off? Then you can go back to not getting ambushed.”

“No.”

“I’ll keep my comm on! For real this time! Just a couple vargas.”

“Unfortunately not, Number Three.”

“Please?”

Keith does his best to widen his eyes the way Lance does it when he’s trying and succeeding at getting his way. He somehow dilates his pupils on command, which Keith doesn’t know how to do, but he figures he can most certainly try. Coran likes him, anyway. He said so.

“Child.” Look of amusement still slotted firmly on his face, and also somehow sporting a piece of wizened reading glasses that he was not wearing three seconds ago, Coran carefully sets down the equipment he’s holding, standing to walk over to Keith. He places a hand on Keith’s shoulder and leans in. “I am not dropping off one of the leaders of Voltron alone on a swap moon for a ‘couple vargas’. You understand why.”

Keith sighs petulantly. “I would get super murdered.”

Coran hums. “You would get super murdered, yes.”

He claps Keith’s back heartily, nearly sending Keith sprawling, then turns back to his sorting. Keith waits til his back is turned to silently and dramatically fall to his knees and mime screaming like Troy Bolton in the third High School Musical Movie (Shiro has too much of an influence on him). He had really hoped Coran would magically have a solution.

“Although,” Coran says, making Keith jump and scramble to his feet (thank every deity to ever exist that Coran keeps his back turned or Keith would crumble to humiliated dust), “if you’re looking for a change of scenery for whatever reason, there are lots of secluded places in the castle.”

Keith flushes red. He knows that’s not how Coran means it — only Hunk knows about them, having magically been able to keep his mouth shut after the whole found-your-lion debacle — but he can’t help where his mind goes, and he’s standing in front of someone who is for all intents and purposes his father, basically, or at least one of them, and it’s horrible and embarrassing and the worst. Imagining that in front of Coran, who once cried and told him he’s just so proud of the man he’s becoming, is just — no. He can’t handle having a father figure again. He’s going back to being a sad orphan.

Well. No.

Whatever.

“Okay bye Coran,” he says loudly and tellingly, practically sprinting out of the room in mortification. He considers ducking into his room to see if Lance is there, but he knows Lance will ask what’s up, and the idea of explaining to him and then hearing him laugh himself to tears adds a beautifully shiny cherry to his sundae of suffering and he decides otherwise.

He ducks instead into the kitchen, hoping it’ll be empty at this time so he can eat his feelings away, but of course that’s not the case. Hunk stands with his hands on his hips at a counter, knife clenched in his right hand, glaring at what Keith hopes is a vegetable of some kind.

“Hey, Keith,” Hunk calls, slowly moving his knife so as to not startle the vegetable.

The vegetable twitches. Keith pretends it doesn’t, choosing to ignore its existence and hoisting himself up to sit on the counter while Hunk is too distracted to stop him.

“I have a dilemma,” he whines when Hunk fails to ask further questions.

“You and Lance are slowly morphing into the same person,” Hunk comments idly. “I have to deal with two of you now. It’s exhausting. Go back to hating each other.”

Keith smiles. “No.”

“Ugh.” He makes a sudden move towards the nightmare vegetable and it panics, throwing itself off the counter in sad vegetable suicide and splatters on the floor. Hunk sighs for a very long time, then reaches for a rag. “Tell me about your dilemma then, catboy. I am looking forward to clowning you.”

“I need to take Lance on a date,” Keith says. “An amazing one.” He tries to be cool and normal for three seconds before remembering that Hunk caught them making out on a moon when they still pretended to hate each other and knows there is no worse shame. “One that is worthy of him, you know? I want him to feel treasured.”

Hunk raises his eyebrows. “Take him to the space mall to commit crimes again. He loves doing that.”

“Coran said no.”

“Observation deck?”

“Makes him sad.”

“Pool?”

Keith tilts his head to the side, considering. “Well, maybe. But we do that all the time. Plus anyone could just walk in on us.”

Hunk groans loudly, chucking the dirty rag at Keith’s face. Keith manages to dodge but only barely.

“You two and your stupid sneaky shit. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to cover for you two so you can giggle about your secrets?”

Keith grins guiltily. “Love you, Hunk.”

“Shut up. I hate you. When everyone finds out I’m going to point and laugh. I don’t even understand why you bother.”

Keith shrugs, twisting the rag sound his fingers. “It’s not…” He sighs. Hunk must sense the shift in the air, because he stops what he’s doing and hoists himself up next to Keith, even though he hates it when people sit on the counter, and leans against him. Keith shoots him a small, grateful smile.

“There’s something special when it’s just the two of us, I guess. Like being in our own little blanket fort. The lighting’s low and every sound feels muffled and it’s hard to breathe and everything else fades, for a bit.”

Keith doesn’t know how else to describe it. His Pa used to build him blanket forts, when he was really little, and he would stay in there until it collapsed on top of him. The same safe feeling settles in his chest when he lies in bed with Lance, when they stand back to back in battle, when they’re as closely pressed together as they can be. Like he’s wrapped in blankets and floating on air.

“Do that, then,” Hunk says softly. He grabs Keith’s hand and squeezes it softly. “Lance loves you, dude. He just wants to spend time with you. He complains because of who he is as a person, but he doesn’t…he swoons about you, man. It’s honestly kind of embarrassing.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

For all of his poking and whining, Lance was the one to move his stuff into Keith’s room. It was Lance who pulled him in with a smirk when Keith knocked on that door, asking what they were next. Lance who pulls him back under the covers in the morning and peppers kisses to his skin, Lance to whisper their first I-love-you, fast and near silent like a gasping inhale, Lance who thought Keith was asleep when he whispered you make me happy like no one else into his hair.

Lance wants him. Plain and simple. In whatever way they have, floating piece of junk or not.

“You got something?” Hunk murmurs.

“Yeah,” Keith says softly. He smiles at his friend, eyes crinkling when he grins right back. “Yeah, I got something.”

He thinks about blanket forts and low lighting and feeling like floating. He thinks about the first time they were ever a team on the castle. He thinks about all the picnic dates in all the romcoms Lance makes him watch.

Suddenly he can’t sit still for another moment. His blood feels like it’s buzzing, and his fingers twitch. He has an idea and if he doesn’t implement it immediately he’s gonna die.

“Get out of here,” Hunk says tiredly, shaking his head in amusement. “You stress me out. Go bother Lance.”

Keith presses a smacking kiss on his cheek because he is, at the core of him, annoying. The action startles a laugh out of him, because at the core of him, Hunk is not nearly as much of hater as he pretends to be.

“Bye Hunk! Love you!”

He runs out of the room to Hunk’s rolled eyes and his own wide grin, heading straight for the pool — he’s got some prep to do.

———

He’s shifty the whole day and he knows it. Lance knows it too, based on the narrowed, judgemental eyes, long, considering glare, and the way he flicks Keith on the forehead mid-spar and says “You’re being shifty, weirdo.”

Keith grabs his hand and kisses it just to make Lance smile on reflex and then scowl about smiling when he’s trying to be mad. It’s all very predictable and amusing.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says lightly. He even pitches his voice to sound more innocent and everything, just like Adam taught him.

“Ugh,” Lance responds.

They go back to sparring, and Keith can’t keep the smile off his face for the life of him. He’s just — so excited. He can’t wait. (And, also, his refusal to answer Lance’s questions is visibly pissing him off, and that’s always fun.) He makes an excuse after a couple hours, kissing Lance loudly and obnoxiously on the cheek before running off, leaving him in the training room and circling the castle three times to make sure he’s not being followed before ducking into the kitchen. As Hunk had promised yesterday when Keith had explained his plan, there are dozens of supplies laid out on the counter and a detailed instruction manual. Keith makes a mental note to clean Hunk’s tools until they are shining in thanks.

Keith, says a pink post-it note on the manual, you’re a whipped loser. Love, Hunk.

Keith grins, folding up the note and tucking it in his pocket. He takes inventory of the supplies, making a special note of the weirdo lump shaped fruit that Keith knows taste like strawberries, that Lance is obsessed with and Hunk often has to literally claw out of his hands when they’re on ship so that Lance doesn’t eat them all. (Actually, now he just puts a lock on the fridge. It’s a problem. Lance loves those strawberries more than Keith, probably.)

Confident that Hunk will keep Lance distracted and praying that no one comes into the kitchen and asks him what the hell he’s doing, Keith gets started. He chops up vegetables, whisks up batters, cuts sandwiches into cool shapes (a sword, Mothman, and an elaborate brachiosaurus) for three straight hours, tucking everything away into a basket and then into the very back corner of the fridge and hiding it behind a case of soda that no one but Keith likes. He barely manages to finish cleaning up the kitchen by the time Shiro and Pidge stroll into the room to get dinner, and both of them eye him suspiciously.

“You’re early,” Pidge says, eyebrows raised.

“You’re never early,” Shiro adds. “I usually have to go send someone to drag you.”

“I’m hungry,” Keith says primly. He’s not, really, since he’s been snacking on stuff as he’s been cooking, but he marches over to the goo machine and squirts himself a bowl anyway. He’ll pull a Lance and feed half of it to the mice, it’ll be fine.

The rest of the team files in a few minutes later; Allura with her hair stuck up in a million places and her nose nearly pressed to her tablet, Coran guiding her by the shoulders so she doesn’t walk right into the counter (again); Hunk and Lance side by side, Lance aggressively swinging their joined hands.

“Hello!” he announces loudly to the room, and it says something about him that every single one of them smiles on reflex, saying hi back.

Lance takes his usual spot next to Keith, Shiro on his other side, Hunk across from them. Under the table, Keith links their ankles together, because no one will look for it and every time it makes a pleased flush grow on the back of Lance’s neck.

“Guess what,” Lance says twenty seconds into a comfortable silence because nothing makes Lance squirm like not talking for ten seconds.

Allura sets her tablet down because she is nosey. “What?”

“I beat Keith at sparring today. Twice,” Lance brags.

Keith scowls at his goo. That’s true, but only because he fought dirty. Keith had him pinned and Lance kissed him, and what was Keith supposed to do, shrug that off? Unlikely. And unrealistic. It’s not like Lance is going to be doing that to fight enemies.

Well. He better not.

“Because you cheated,” Keith mutters.

“Nope, nuh uh, didn’t happen. You are just old and grey and losing your abilities.”

“I’m barely one year older than you!” Keith cries.

Lance smirks. “Elderly, basically. Geriatric. I went easy on you today because I was worried about your knees.”

“Oh, you fucking —”

“Boys,” Shiro interrupts sharply.

They both jump.

“One meal,” the Black Paladin sighs, hand sliding down his face. “Just — one fucking meal, where you two don’t fight.”

“I don’t get it,” Pidge comments, irritated furrow to her brows. “You guys hang out, like, all the time. You’d think you’d be able to talk without jabbing at each other.”

“I think they’re just weirdos,” Hunk says flatly looking at them with a very pointed expression. “I think they just enjoy going at each other. Like weirdos.”

Beside him, Lance averts his eyes, biting his lip to hold back laughter. Keith looks away so he doesn’t have to do the same.

“Sorry, Shiro,” Keith says, working hard to keep his tone neutral. “I’ll do my best to not rise to Lance’s bait.”

“And I’ll try really hard to be okay with stinky mullet’s presence as a whole,” Lance promises.

Shiro only shakes his head and sighs harder. Keith reaches over and pinches his boyfriend’s thigh in revenge.

After dinner, and an aggravated pinching contest that ends with them straight up brawling beside the table and the team looking like they wanted to pelt food good at them, they wait for everyone else to head out to the common room before making their way down to their rooms.

“We’re not joining everyone else?” Lance questions, looking pointedly at their joined hands, blatant as they are in the hallway.

Keith hums, lifting their joined hands and looping around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Lance stumbles into him, laughing as Keith manages to catch him and keep them both upright.

“Nope,” Keith says, smiling into his hair. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively — God, he really is becoming Lance. “They’re all tired of us, I think. Perfect opportunity for us to have some time without any interruptions, I was thinking.”

Lance grins. “Sounds good to me.”

The stumble into their room giggling.

———

Hours later, Lance is half asleep on his chest, and Keith traces lazy shapes onto his back. The hallways are quiet, even if he strains his ears. The only thing he can hear is Lance’s even breathing, and the steady thud of his heartbeat. He checks his watch — ten thirty. Everyone else is asleep or close to it.

It’s time, he thinks.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips pressed to Lance’s hair. “Wake up.”

“‘M not asleep.”

“Good.” Keith shifts slightly, forcing Lance’s head to move, which earns him a sharp smack on the arm. He grabs Lance’s wrists and holds it there, rubbing a thumb on the palm of his hands. “Up you get.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Lance.”

Lance groans loudly. “I am comfortable,” he laments. “Your tiddies are comfortable. I’m not moving, Pillow. Lie down in silence and be grateful you have the honour of sleeping with me. I’m a delight.”

Keith snorts, but doesn’t back down. “Get up or I tip you over.”

“Yeah, right.” Lance settles right back in, confident in the knowledge that Keith would do nothing of the sort.

Well, he’s wrong.

Careful to tuck his hand over the back of Lance’s head and neck, Keith flips them over at whip speeds, sending them sprawling over the side of the bed and onto the floor in a heap of skewed blankets and flailing limbs.

“You’re such a butthead!” Lance shrieks, smacking him repeatedly on the chest. Keith once again grabs both his wrists and holds tight, pinning him to the floor with his own body weight. He knows Lance isn’t really mad because he hardly puts up a struggle.

“I love you,” Keith says in response, leaning over to peck his boyfriend smack between the eyes. Lance huffs, grinning. “Come on. We’re going somewhere.”

“Ugh,” Lance groans again, but he grabs the hand Keith offers and pulls himself up anyway. He mutters derisively the entire time he gets dressed, but Keith wisely decides not to push it. “Let’s go, dingus. You better be bringing me to a five-star restaurant and then hotel.”

Keith bites back a grin. He knows his line.

“And where the fresh hell am I meant to find that, bastard?” he responds dutifully, wrapping his arm around Lance’s waist and tucking a hand into his back pocket as they walk.

Lance smiles coyly, leaning into him. “That sounds like a you problem.”

Keith rolls his eyes, smiling. “C’mon. We gotta stop in the kitchen first.”

Ignoring Lance’s pestering questions, which is one of his favourite hobbies, Keith steers them towards the fridge and grabs the basket he prepared, tucking it under his arm before Lance can steal it to look.

“If you peek I’m tossing it in the incinerator,” Keith warns.

Lance pouts. “That’s biphobic.”

“You’ll live.”

“Nope. I just found out the love of my life doesn’t accept me for who I am. I’ll try to choke it down, try to get over it, but it’ll eat me alive. Every night after you fall asleep I’ll cry until I pass out. Resentment will build. Eventually I’ll start turning away every time you kiss me. And then we’ll fight, and I will be too heartbroken to defend our relationship, and then all will crumble and we’ll be bitter exes until we die. I see it all now.”

“There are actual playwrights that are less dramatic than you,” Keith observes, looking at Lance’s gesturing in amusement. “I’m pretty sure most of them would beg for lessons.”

“They would be lucky as hell to have me.”

“They would be, baby.” He’d aimed for mocking, but his voice comes out fond and gooey and whipped and he knows it. Lance knows it too, judging by the shy little smile he sports, the pleased flush on his cheeks.

“Where are we even going?” he asks, a clear change of subject. “We’ve been walking the halls for ninety years.”

Keith scoffs. “We have not. And we’re going to the pool.”

Lance stops them mid-step, groaning. “Aw, come on! It’s nearly eleven, Keith!”

“And?” Keith asks, tugging him forward. He goes, but not without whining.

“You are the worst pool partner. You never just want to chill and float. Oh, no, it’s gotta be laps, you fuckin’ jock. Fuckin’ — olympic tryhard ass.”

Keith doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter, and through all his groaning Lance is laughing, too, and even when he’s complaining and being ridiculous and mocking Keith, Keith loves him. There’s not a second of the day when Keith doesn’t.

“Just come on,” he says, finally pulling them into the pool. “You’ll like it. I promise.” He holds his hands up to Lance’s eyes, raising a brow in question, then laying his palms over the top of Lance’s face when he isn’t told to stop.

Lance sighs, but he lets himself get manhandled, let’s Keith guide him up the walls like Coran showed them until they’re finally settled at the edge of the pool. Keith sets down the basket, takes a deep breath, and removes his hands from Lance’s face.

“Happy everyday,” he says quietly.

It takes Lance a moment to register the set up in front of him — the giant blow up kiddie pool floating on the real pool, layered in pillows and blankets. The projector on the wall, queueing Lance’s favourite movie — 10 Things I Hate About You, even though Keith can’t stand that movie and never lets it get picked during family movie nights. The soft lighting sending waves of dappled light reflecting all over the room, making the browns of Lance’s eyes shine gold. The scent of chocolate covered strawberries coming from the now-open picnic basket in Keith’s hands.

Lance m, predictably, bursts into tears.

“You — you jerk,” he cries, flinging himself onto Keith, who barely manages to catch him with an oof. “You are — the worst person alive. I despise you.”

Keith grins, setting down to basket to hold Lance in his arms properly, squeezing him as tight has he can, trying to — say, what he feels, with his body alone. Because there aren’t words for it, he doesn’t think, the way Lance is the first person he seeks out in any room he’s in, the way one touch from Lance has the tension melting from his body in bad days. How even when they’re at their worst and screaming in each other’s faces, there’s a voice in Keith’s head three times louder than anger that booms, don’t you dare hurt him. How he hasn’t felt this kind of safe with a person since his Pa; since he was tiny and young and not afraid of the world yet.

“I take it I win this dating thing?” Keith teases, face tucked into the crook of Lance’s neck.

Lance laughs wetly, breath still shuddering and tears still leaking out of his eyes, and turns his head to kiss him slowly, hands pressed to either side of his face.

“You’re a dickhead and I love you more than air,” he says, smile wide and breathtaking. Keith has to bite back to urge to do something insane like ask him to marry him. God. He’s so — hngh. How is Keith supposed to explain. What he is to him.

“C’mon,” Keith says instead of any of that, voice kind of hoarse. He wraps their hands together and pulls them closer to the edge of the pool, kneeling down and reaching out to steady the floatie and holding it as Lance crawls in. He hands him the basket and tumbles in after him, falling onto his chest, and he feels it shame as Lance laughs, quiet and fond, and he knows he won’t be able to move away. So he settles into him and Lance’s hands come up automatically to rest in his hair, and Keith fumbles for the remote and plays the movie and hands him strawberries and watches Kat and Patrick fall in love and thanks anyone who is out there, from every atom in his body, for getting Lance’s dumb ass tied to a tree and having Keith the only one available to save him. And for the magnetism, between them, and the way Keith has never been able to hide himself from him.

“I love you,” Lance whispers as Kat reads her poem, fingers tangled around locks of Keith’s hair. “I mean it. I do.”

Keith turns his head slightly to kiss the inside of his knee, eyes closed, breaths heavy. “I know.” He lets himself bask in it, Lance’s love, and smiles. “I love you, too.”

———

first part

based off this video

[jaxobeat]

🆘 i need your help! 🆘

hi! making a new post bc my other one died down

my name is jax and i really need help securing funds for permanent housing. i have been pretty much unhoused for 2 years now and the only safe option i have left is to move to canada with my partner & friends

the immigration process has been very difficult and i need help covering the costs for fees (applications, medical testing, etc) while also trying to meet my basic needs in the meantime. i am disabled in more ways than one and it’s incredibly difficult to keep a steady income. when i DO have a job, i’m faced with so much ableism that i need to quit.

ways to help are down below, along with a graphic to share!

CA: $jayxbean

Vnmo: @jayxbean

P4yP4l: @jada0604

E-Transfer: elgrimdesmone@gmail.com

[ Photo ID: a flyer titled “mutual aid”, on the left is a picture of Jax who is a black trans person. he’s wearing a covid mask, glasses, and a black and gray beanie with cat ears. his hairstyle is pink and blonde locs. underneath the photo is a list of jax’s usernames on different money sending apps. in the top right is a block of text that reads: “i’m jax, and i’ve been fighting to stay housed for 2 years now. i have the chance for permanent housing in canada but i need funds to cover moving costs while also affording daily needs like medication and food. i’m disabled and can’t keep a steady income/job and it makes things difficult. please support me if you can!” underneath the text is a list titled “Goals”]

https://gofund.me/1d05fe0d

[reasonsforhope]

A wild about post appears!

Me

Hey! I’m MC. They/them, late twenties. I also run Direct Action for Hope, for petitions/campaigns/protests that don’t fit on a good news blog, as well as my own takes and activism.

Queer, trans, disabled, white, USian, for context. (Please let me know if I accidentally post something offensive, btw! I promise I have like. an actual ability to take that kind of feedback gracefully and work to remedy the situation)

 Some Info about This Blog

Actual good news only!

No heartwarming stories that aren’t actually news. No stories that other sources THINK are heartwarming, but that are actually super depressing and dystopic!

All websites/sources are at least preliminarily vetted by me

If I don’t think a source and/or a news story I find is accurate or reliable enough, I find a new, better source with a new, better article

Relatedly, any links that have the url web.archive go to an Internet Archive copy of a paywalled article. Usually this is the LA Times, NY Times, or Washington Post. Not a weird suspicious link, I promise!

All posts are cited and dated at the end!

All posts should be tagged, including for major/common content warnings. I can’t promise that I won’t miss any warnings, but I am definitely keeping an eye on this

Filter the tag “not news” if you only want to see the news articles/posts

Feel free to send me articles to look at or submit posts! I’ll vet these before I feature them. That said, you might be waiting A While, because despite many efforts to the contrary I am the worst about checking/answering messages. Sorry about that

Posts are generally long because I have Many Words And Endless Details Disease. Hopefully the thoroughness and the bolded highlights make up for that

A couple people have asked me if I could share their donation posts, so I wanted to pin this up: I’m sorry, but unfortunately, I will not be sharing any donation posts, because I don’t have the time or skills to vet all of them and weed out any potential scams. If you’re struggling, please check out this post, which lists communities designed for donation posts and mutual aid. You’re much more likely to get help there than on tumblr. You can also find other mutual aid resource lists and wikis here, here, and here

If you’re struggling with depression or anxiety, especially around climate anxiety or climate grief, there’s a really, really thorough directory of crisis hotlines by country that you can find here. Seriously, they have so many countries I wouldn’t have expected them to list - try it, if it might help

Tip Jar

I put a lot of work and passion into this blog—and a not inconsiderable amount of time. Also, I’ve been too disabled to work much at all for most of the past year...rip. (but thankfully doing better now!) So, if you want to support my work, you can buy me a coffee!

Good News Source

You can find a comprehensive list of all the websites I’ve bookmarked as sources for this blog here!

Note about Gaza

I will be posting good news (as much good news as there can be in this sort of situation) about the ongoing genocide in Gaza, because one of the most important ways to help is to refuse to be silent. Palestinians in Gaza have asked us to please keep talking about it, that it really does help, so I’m going to listen.

And honestly, my disabilities significantly interfere with my ability to take irl action like going to protests, so using what platform I have here really is all the more important to me. (Though I am also setting a notif on my phone to remind me to call my representatives every few days, and I encourage you to do the same if feasible.)

All that said! It is completely legitimate to need a break from horrific news (a huge part of why I started this blog), and it’s also legitimate to say “I need to find out about this stuff Not from my tumblr dash.”

If news about the war/genocide (esp on social media specifically) is making you spiral and shit, then I genuinely encourage you to filter out these posts. I’m not judging. I have significant filters around what Israel/Palestine stuff I see on here myself, because I want to be very intentional about the times I do engage with it. (Which is every few days and via the Actual News.)

I’m committing to fact-checking this stuff before posting, fyi, even with reblogs.

So, tl;dr:

I will be posting about Palestine and Gaza

I will still only post good news, eg: about successful protests, aid reaching Gaza, progress toward ceasefire

I’ll only post actual, concrete news, not just Politicians Saying Words

If you need to not find about this shit from tumblr and/or my tumblr, then filter out the tags “Palestine” and “cw war”

If you don't want to see my posts on this blog about the Israel-Palestine War, then block the tags "Palestine" and "cw war"

if you need a break, then take a break

[jdeanmorgan]

39. Because time has run out, for buddie pretty please if it sparks joy 💖

this one was just angsty enough to let me focus, so here you go bestie. (i'm sorry in advance)

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Buck was supposed to take his time, find the perfect moment to tell Eddie just how much he loves him. How much he’s in love with him. They’ve both been single for months now, ever since Eddie got dumped by Marisol, since Buck dumped Natalia. They were supposed to have more time. He presses his hand against his wound, closing his eyes at the sticky feeling of blood on his fingers. Eddie still hasn’t noticed, too busy shielding Christopher with his body. Who takes people hostage at a grocery store at 2 PM on a Sunday? Buck tries his best to act normal, to act like he isn’t bleeding out from a gunshot wound, a stray bullet aimed at nothing in particular. The hostage taker just wanted to scare them, of that Buck is sure. He doesn’t sound a day over eighteen. Buck leans against the shelf, but he does it too heavily. Eddie turns towards him, his eyes mapping out every inch of Buck’s body in the matter of a second. His eyes catch on Buck’s bloody hand, and a whimper is punched out of him. He lets go of Christopher, seemingly without realising, and rushes to Buck’s side, his hand finding Buck’s bullet wound. “Buck!” Christopher’s voice is shrill, full of fear. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches as he stares down at them. Buck doesn’t know how this happened, how he got down to the floor, but he doesn’t like the woozy feeling of blood loss rushing through his head. He lifts a bloody hand. “It’s okay, Chris.” “You’re not fucking okay.” Eddie exclaims, frantically trying to put pressure on the wound. He turns towards Christopher, ignoring the Ski-Masked man standing a few feet away from them, gun pointed right at Eddie. “Chris, get a first aid kit.” The man moves to aim his gun at Chris. “Don’t even think about it.” “What are you gonna do?” Chris questions defiantly. “Shoot a disabled kid?” The man sighs, aims the gun on Eddie. “If he does anything, I’ll shoot your husband again.” Buck can’t help the breathless chuckle from escaping. Even the man who shot him can see how much he loves Eddie, how much they belong together. It comes out more as a wheeze. He lifts his hand to Eddie’s cheek, running his thumb over his cheek. “It’s okay.” “It’s not okay.” Eddie’s voice is steely with his stress. “Just hang on, okay? Stay with me.” “I thought we had more time.” Buck coughs, the bitter taste of iron flooding his taste buds, something wet crawling its way out of his mouth. Eddie sobs, and Buck shakes his head as best as he can, ignoring the blatant dizziness the action brings. “Don’t cry, Baby.” “Don’t.” Eddie shakes his head. He takes the first aid kit from Chris, immediately tearing it open and getting the gauze. He lifts Buck’s shirt, disinfects the wound as best as he can. Buck tries his best not to make a noise, but the pain is too much. He groans, keeping his eyes away from Christopher. He can’t bear to see the pain on the kid’s face. Eddie presses the gauze against the wound. “Don’t you dare give me a deathbed confession.” Buck can’t help it. He smiles, his eyes stinging. He uses the last of his strength to lift himself up on his elbows. He drags Eddie forward, resting their foreheads together. “You have to let me.” “I don’t-“ Buck shushes him. He presses their lips together, the kiss weak, but it’s everything. Eddie kisses him back, then pushes him gently to lay on his back. “I’m not letting you die.” “I’m sorry.” Buck can already see black spots in his vision. He knows what this feeling is. He’s going to pass out, and he might not wake up. He looks at Chris, even though he told himself he wouldn’t, and he gives him a smile. “I love you, kid.” The last thing he hears before he passes out is Christopher’s sobbing, and Eddie begging him to stay awake.

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

I wanted to take a moment to let you know how much I love your writing. Your work is truly my favorite, and it has brought me  so much joy and helped me get out of a dark place so thank you. 

I also wanted to express my appreciation for the support you’ve shown for Palestine. It’s heartening to see someone with your platform raising awareness about this humanitarian crisis. 

I’m really sorry about the negative comments and hate you've been receiving from certain people. Please know that there are many of us who stand by you and appreciate both your creativity and your compassion. Your account is your space, and you have every right to use it as you see fit. 

Thank you for being a light in the world, both through your writing and your advocacy 💫💜

Hi sweet anon 🫶🏻

Wow, this is so so beyond kind of you and thank you so much for sending this to me. I’m very glad my writing reached you, and I hope you’re doing alright. I know how hard life can be, but I’m always rooting for you 💗

I do intend on keeping this a very pro Palestine blog, so it means a lot that you said that. When im fully back online, I’ll be sharing some resources that I’ve been using for anyone interested :)

And I know I keep saying this, but really thank you so much. I appreciate the support and your kindness more than I could ever really express.

I feel very unworthy of these generous words, but again thank you 🥹 As someone who is hoping to pursue human rights & disability law, I personally find it important to advocate for causes and for people whose voices are being silenced. The biggest part of advocacy is elevating said voices, not turning it into a personal agenda. I think it’s the least we can do :)

Thank you, again, I can’t really express enough how much I needed to read this. I hope you’re well 💗

[zombiecicada]

Little quick serious post this morning!

So I have brain damage, and some of the symptoms I in turn struggle with include brain fog, memory issues, and audio processing issues. So hearing things like my phone dinging can be very hard for me at times, as is acknowledging and seeing quiet pop up tabs on my home screen.

I therefore have disability support turned on for my phone, which upon receiving notifications will cause my phone’s flashlight to flash a couple times and the phone to vibrate for longer than a usual phone on vibrate will vibrate. This is vital to allowing me to respond appropriately to messages from friends, family, and work related matters as I also use my phone for work.

So onto the issue. I have notifications for Tumblr turned on. Tumblr has a pretty good notifications options so I can toggle a lot of what I want on and off, but reblogs or messages are on. So when someone spam likes or reblogs my content, it causes my phone to basically become strobe lights at a rave party. This can be very disorienting, and if I’m out in public when this happens, very distracting and annoying for other people out in public.

Why don’t I turn tumblr notifications off? I will if I have to, but I do like having the notifications on in order to respond to reblogs in a timely manner (having notifications on greatly helps me remember to reply to them now and not two weeks later/or never when my brain finally remembers it exists on its own, if it does at all) and messages people send to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I love when people like and reblog my content. Even the spam liking can be very entertaining at times, minus the whole being flash banged to death. It’s very, very rewarding to see my content being liked an reblogged, and helps me find motivation to keep creating and makes me happy. However, I can’t keep having my phone become a flash bang, for what I figure is obvious. 30+ notifications back to back is a lot of flashing, it’s distracting both for me and others at best and overstimulating at times at worse.

So in summary. Please no spamming likes or reblogs. No rave phone allowed. Do not want to be flash banged.

Thank you.

-Zombie Cicada

[gotta-pet-em-all]

Okay, so it seems like rotomblr broke… again? And I can’t see any of the past posts, so I guess I’m redoing our intro.

Hi, we’re the Fluffstep system! Collectively, all of us respond to Fluff online. If you don’t know who’s talking, chances are we don’t either. Dissociation is a bitch and we tend to be blurry anyways, we’re still figuring it out..

In rough order of appearance, here’s who we have!

Elle + Bryelle: Both of them have the body age and appearance, although Bryelle has longer hair and Elle likes the current length better. They share memories better than anyone in the system, so if you’ve talked to one, the other will remember what happened. We think they split initially from trauma, although we’re a mixed origin system. Bryelle helps us with organization and talking to people, and Elle is good at taking care of our pokemon and talking to the therapist. Bryelle is somewhat high strung, while Elle has defeatist tendencies. 

Firestar: Fictive from Warrior Skitty; he doesn’t front a whole lot but he’s great at emotional support and hyping us up. Also, he had a thing with Graystripe back home. Please do not approach us with Firestar ship discourse, this is what happened to him and he doesn’t want to engage in that. He’s post-canon, but with some divergences.

Linnea: We think she’s about eight or so; we’re not sure when she split but we were pretty young. She’s not great at emotional regulation, so please be extra kind when she’s in front. Linnea’s job is to monitor our body and make sure everything’s running smoothly. She’s a bit of a crybaby and has been trying to get us to buy her more plushies. Linnea, we love you but the bed isn’t big enough.

Max: She’s a walk-in, not positive when she showed up but she’s been blurry and has the worst dissociation. We’re trying to get her to front more, and she’s coming out more now that we’re out of Plasma. Cool lesbian who’s in her mid twenties, by our best guess. She’s the best at cooking and taking phone calls, but sucks at sending emails.

Dragonite: She showed up around puberty, and holds most of the deviance. We try to keep the blog safe for work, but Dragonite… if you are a minor, please block the tag #Dragonite speaks. We appreciate her doing the exploration for us, and breaking down some of the sexual shame we have! But she lacks restraint in many ways.

Zor: a zorua/zoroark shifter. We really don’t know where it came from or what it wants, and we’re still working on communication. Far as we can tell, they like raw meat and having messy hair. They probably won’t type anything. 

Snowkit: he’s still miffed that he never earned his warrior name; we suspect he might be a little younger than the body age. He escaped his narrative to haunt us specifically, and is the disability advocate for the body. He doesn’t front a lot due to sensory issues with sound, since he’s Deaf and the body being Hearing is weird. 

[cjoatprehn]

Survival Financial Request!

My mom’s been filing for bankruptcy, has been extremely financially stressed lately, and trying to get me over to her has been really stressful. She’s a burn victim from a Yankee Candle catching on fire on Halloween, she received 3rd degree burns on most of her body for trying to save her support dog. Between support animal costs, food, rent, and hospital recovery, she’s in dire need of aid. If y’all could and are in a position to help, could you send some money over, please, to help ensure she will be able to at the very least have some pressure off her shoulders? And a sweet note, if you want to—? Thank you…

Adding to this post-

I want to make clear I’ve been struggling to keep us and others afloat, and now I’m at a point in my life and health where I am no longer able to do so. They’re cutting away more food stamp money from many households in the legislature not just ours, and I’m in the process of moving to my mom’s to help out. And also—

I’m kinda Flipping out right now. I don’t want to lie, with the US being a 3rd world country now. I’m flipping out because last month…was the last month they would be giving food money in the 100s. With food so high and Rent higher. SSI—I don’t even know. …I’m smiling but I don’t know what else to do. My moms still recovering from 3rd degree burns, surgery, and trying to get me there, and I’ve learned that the Aunt that had control of late great grandma’s reservoir for funds…Help won’t last long.

I’m scared, and I’m losing hope. I don’t want to go out as the person who Fucking struggled and suffered their entire life, never got to flourish. …I’ve never thought of making a gofundme again. Every time I’ve made one it never reached anything. And…I-can’t even maintain a savings for long. If we run out of money or assistance, then my mom stops getting treatment. Her dog doesn’t get food or treatment…and we’ll lose the little we have left.

She doesn’t have any friends or many connections outside of herself or her former government job. So—I’m just—like—trying to convince her to.. at least accept my help. I know everyone’s not in the best financial situation to help but—I can’t continue giving good energy to the universe from an empty cup…so I really appreciate the support..!

For record only, no longer helping someone who wants to gaslight and abuse me. I’ve been evicted as of May 9th, 2023. I found a place to stay for last night and possibly tonight. After that I’m on the streets. I’ve accepted I might not make it. I’m bedbound forced to rest by my body and disabilities. My phone has been deactivated by my mom only to discover she can’t reactivate it due to my phone being 6-7 years old. It’s too old to be reactivated with its old line.

But…hey…I’m no longer at my abusive home situation. I don’t wish to tell my dad’s side of the family. My mom prolly let them know anyway. I don’t know for sure though.

…I’m so flipping screwed. Had to deactivate my throne, due to no longer having that address. So…I’m just.. Here. Waiting. Watching my time come closer.

Thread of some of the abuse from my mom. I don’t feel like typing it all here..

https://cjoatbysamwise.com/donate-to-cjoat

…I’m scared. But I don’t know what else to do so I’m accepting my fate and situation for now at least. So.

Here’s to updates..

Late Update:

Got yelled at, insulted, and screamed at by my mom through text. She’s called AT&T to lock everything down; I asked her for my account information. When she didn’t answer for the next 5-6 hours. I had AT&T send an email and a text to her & asked her for what they sent her. I got accused of hacking. I’m Not getting my phone line back.

Oh and to top it off, she sent me a picture of Storme laying outside of where I used to sleep. With Storme saying hi. I relayed a message to Storme. It would be a goodbye unless we meet again.

…So I’m unable to exactly…Do anything so. Just…Trying to calm my heart rate down…It’s been elevated all damn day…and increasing..

Good News: The Situation has Partly Cleared!

I cued a erasure on the iPhone 14 Pro Max, which my mom gave me and then took away from me after snooping through my iPhone 8+ and kicking me out, as soon as it connects to the internet; that way, my mom gets to return the phone, she gets her $1K+ back, problem solved. However, twice my mom sent 2 “Reset Apple ID Password” pop-ups on my devices, which…fuck off, mom, tf?

In response, after checking with the select few, I have changed my Apple ID email, because she doesn’t know my Apple ID password. I will be working with Apple Customer Servicee to ensure she can not steal my Apple account through Screen Time (which is possible). Conclusively:

I have a bed and address, temporarily but for awhile, unsure of how long, definitely more than a few days. Right now, until things stabilize with assistance, I don’t have to pay yet, despite being willing to. Currently slowly getting out of survival mode. Many of my stuff remain at my mom’s. I am able to get another physical SIM for my phone. Throne should be showing and working now, because I now have a new address, temporary while I figure what to do from here. I am no longer am able to draw due to my stylus breaking and my disc tips running out. Still got to get back. Laptop is out of commission until I get a new laptop charger, or until I get my old one back. That’s the update for now.

…I’m…finally going to heal, now that I’m safe and in a warm & accepting, and lax environment.

Still going to need assistance, thank y’all so much for supporting me so far.

[aelianated-star]

I saw your dysautonomia post. I've been diagnosed for over a year and known for longer but my doctor keeps refusing to prescribe me a wheelchair despite the fact I can't walk further than down the hall without one. They keep trying to send me to physical therapy (only for one body part at a time due to insurance despite also having chronic pain evenly in my whole body and experiencing post-exertional malaise even from light physical therapy). Other than just finding a new doc, which I've been working on, do you have any advice for how to get a doc to actually prescribe the mobility aids you need?

(I am lucky enough to have a decently fitted one that I cannot self propel but can be pushed in, but my partner also has POTS so that's rarely an option and only for short trips (which only because in her own words hers is "better managed" than mine currently). But I really do need probably a motorized one at this point and I know other disabled people often know how exactly to get through to a doc so even if I can't convince my current doc I can hopefully use any tips when I find a new one.)

I wish I had better advice, but I would definitely look for educated physicians who are familiar with dysautonomia and fiddle around with medications (Corlanor/Ivabravine and infusions are the only things that has even helped remotely with mine). I had the same issue with a lot of doctors and was gaslit about not having EDS until my neurologist, shortly after diagnosing me with 3 types of dysautonomia, also diagnosed me with EDS (it was glaringly obvious apparently. I’m extremely hypermobile, can dislocate things on command and experience daily dislocations/subluxations, history of heart issues that he now escalated to four regurgitating valves, stretchy, velvety skin, strophic scarring, gastroparesis, at the time pending MCAS diagnosis, etc). If you can, there are organizations that will loan out wheelchairs for relatively cheap or free for people who need them, the difficulty is just finding one that’s near you or will ship to you! Also, I would definitely recommend a lightweight, motorized wheelchair or a regular wheelchair with motorized attachments like a smart drive or motorized wheels. The weight is going to be a big factor, especially if your partner is also disabled/chronically ill and you guys need to be able to transfer it into the car. I’m kinda in the same boat right now where even in a normal lightweight wheelchair (without motorization), my heart rate will get up to 200 and I can’t push myself for more than a minute really. I’ve been stuck using my forearm crutches to get around everywhere, but since that doesn’t do anything for my heart rate or blood pressure, I’m limited to doing anything (albeit not very much) to extremely good days. I’ll link some cheaper models below, and please feel free to dm me for more advice, I’m always happy to help other people out 🩵

[3amsnek]

hi if this isn’t something you prefer answering you can ignore my ask!

so i wanted to know how much stripe reveals your info to people who pay you? through ko fi and all that. what i mean is when someone gives the creator money through ko fi using paypal their name (legal name) is revealed on invoice so does that happen with stripe as well?

i’ve heard with stripe, creators can hide their legal name and use another which shows up on invoices but im unsure if it’s true

hi! I actually had this same concern and did a lot of poking around for how different platforms handle this while setting up my commissions so I will attempt to answer! disclaimer I am just a guy who is bad with technology so there is a chance I am wrong about things ok here’s a readmore attempt click to get Snek’s business knowledge

this is actually the main reason I rly like stripe, you can customize pretty much everything clients will see including how much information about yourself you want to give away- I literally only have 3amsnek as my name in there, it’s just my business name (the Public Details section of settings lets you mess with this as much as you like, it’s under the Business Settings category)

it gives my country & state on some invoices but no further details (I can’t remember if state is mandatory or I clicked on the wrong button somewhere setting it up but I can’t disable it so keep that in mind) (I can change it along with everything else in my info though)

you do need to give Stripe all of your information for legal and payment purposes which can be kinda intimidating to set up but within my account I can customize what name will show up everywhere it shows up, put a different email than the one I signed up with as a customer support email to go at the bottom of receipts, decide specifically how much of my location is shown- idk if this is super clear bc I’m not at all experienced in Business Advice but by my memory/experience it doesn’t even ask for a Firstname Lastname name anywhere that’ll be shown to customers

for the record I’ve never actually used paypal bc my account got nuked within a day of making it and they have simply refused to fix it so I don’t have a direct comparison from personal experience but from my various hours of research trying to put comms together it seemed like paypal will always give everyone involved in the transaction a stupid amount of information about each other and there rly isn’t much to do about it/things can’t be changed ever or at least without huge difficulty and my experience with Stripe has been not that at All,,, it’s been very nice tbh I even found a whole invoices feature that allows international bank transfers as a payment method making a workaround for people who only have paypal & no card

if this is still confusing you can dm me and I’ll send you a picture of my checkout page/invoice/email receipt templates, it rly only shows my profile picture for stripe which I selected and can change (for me it’s the same dragon I use for my ko-fi header) and my business name in big letters at the top to say who you’re paying and then it’s the checkout/payment setup for the client (looks like any other online shopping checkout thing rly) - I haven’t been able to Confirm confirm that this all shows up properly on receipts as I don’t rly have a way to run a test with it with actual payment but it shows you what all the graphics are set to show up as in your account (under Branding in settings, same Business Settings box as Public Details is in) and you can change all of it any time (I do think you can also send blank test receipts to yourself)

hopefully this helps clarify things? at this point of using it for a couple months I would say I’d recommend Stripe- I’ve been rly pleased with it so far, especially with this specific topic :]

[the-blue-void]

Daily Click for Palestine

Tutorial to get eSims

August Update

I have a hard time getting spoons to do literally anything other than reblogging blogs with superficial understanding

It influenced my ability to provide image description & have a background check on the gofundme’s

I don’t think they are fake and I do not support any action calling them to be fake.

However I cannot perform very basic check (like making sure it’s not linked to a phishing site) to not put everyone’s online security at risk

In the mean time I will try to support the vetted gofundme’s and charities first and foremost, and keep boycotting

Please stay safe

Hyperfixation In Rotation

Nothing (I am exhausted)

*special interests not listed

Please Tag:

unreality: anything that is not real but written in a way that indicates it could be

About me:

1. I’m Voik :)

2. Semiverbal, language disorder, chronic eczema, medium-low support needs autistic (low side), ADHD, CDS, aroallo, nonbinary, cripplepunk

3. I develop web-apps & minecraft events

4. I enjoy fandoms, but I’m not super into any big content for long times

5. I don’t mind spoilers, in fact, I don’t watch any long form media without being spoilered

6. Please try to avoid using 3rd person pronouns referring to me, if you have trouble doing this due to disability, you can use it/its instead. (Send ask if you need other alternatives, I could give one for you only.)

Before you follow:

1. Respect everyone. If you say someone doesn’t deserve respect for any reason, get out.

2. I’m not a minor (in my early 20s) but this is not nsfw account. Half of my friends are still minors.

3. If you don’t support taiwan independence for whatever reason, kindly, fuck off. (If you can’t support due to ccp rules, I don’t hate you, but get the fuck off right now, for your own good.)

4. Other than that no listed DNI, but I do block whenever I feel like it.

5. If you need me to tag a trigger please do tell me.

6. I don’t get mad ever. If I seem to be mad at you, I’m not. (It’s not always a good thing but it’s a fact)

7. I try to describe photos / texts when I can. When I don’t, I tag it as #undescribed

8. Feel free to ask me about my current hyperfixations, questions about my special interests are ok too, but they are extremely personal and I don’t always know how to explain them, so I might not always feel comfortable answering about them

9. Discourse (specifically ones that involve transphobia) could trigger me, so I don’t talk about them much.

[Image Description: A userbox, the icon on the left is a simplified taiwan map, the text on the right says "Kóng Tâi-gí siá Tâi-bûn". End ID]

Part-time AAC userbox and its image description made by @caniblist-clown :D

[Image Description: A userbox, the small icon on the left contains 3 person, first person is pink with purple locs, a blue wheelchair, green headphones, and a device on their lap. The second is yellow with pink short hair, standing up, with headphones, a pink cane, and a pink aac device. From their device there is a speech bubble containing: Two figures (the symbol for We / Us) and a face saying “X” (the symbol for cant talk / cant speak). The third person is orange with a beard and curly short hair. They are sitting down and holding a pink tablet up. The text says “This user is a Part-time AAC user”. End ID]

[prettylifeprettybones]

I know that this might not get anywhere here… but I’ll post it anyways.

I leave for the hotel in Lebanon tomorrow so I can go to the hospital first thing Friday morning to get a head CT and find out what time that day my brain surgery will be. It would mean a lot if you keep sharing my gofundme. No one has donated here, but I do have a donations coming in on Venmo, so I will list that again if you wanted to pay me directly. (Gofundme takes a small portion of every donation. I believe it is 2.9% + $.30 or something)

If you donate on Venmo, please put “donation for medical expenses” or something along those lines so I have proof to send to social security to show that I’m not working so I can keep my disability.

Venmo: samwal120

PayPal: sldstyles

Thank you for all the support and kind words during this difficult time for me. Means a lot! I don’t know how much I’ll be online after brain surgery, so it would be helpful if you could go back and share daily. I will have my friend who comes with me post an update on my profile when I’m out of surgery if I can’t do it myself.

[phail]

saw ur tags on my ketamine post and yeah it’s basically something you have to privately fund which is ridiculous given the rate of success it has and the difference it could make if it was more broadly accessible. for me it’d be $800 a session (which adds up bc you don’t ever just do one) and I’d have to basically lie to doctors about my bipolar symptoms, either that or get on a study where there’s a 50% chance I’d get given a placebo and a zillion criteria to fit anyway. idk, I don’t count either option as an impossibility just smth to work towards personally, but I wish you so much luck, ik it’s easy to come across like you’re struggling a lot less than you are and not receive support because of it. please keep scouting out options though like if there’s anything I’d think a gfm is worth it for. anyway in the end it’s none of my business but I wish u well and I wish u good songs to listen to

sorry this is on anon e-otw is my sideblog and people tend to get confused if I send asks from main

This is a very nice message, thank you. Sorry for answering it a few days late, I’ve been Struggling™. Not to get depressing but I feel like my options right now are between 3 things:

Read more because of hopelessness and suicidal ideation

1) pay $330 a day for a 30 day residential program because that’s the level of care I need at the moment despite insurance thinking otherwise. Which totals $9,900. Which I cannot afford.

2) go back to the ER after doing something stupid and have them place me in inpatient again (which my insurance will NOT pay for either) OR reschedule my IOP assessment and have them send me to the ER against my will unless I go voluntarily. If I go back to inpatient, god it fucked me up the last two times. I feel like I’ll actually lose my mind there from the way I’m being mistreated and how I’m so far gone mentally, and therefore give up on myself completely and probably have a psychotic break. I really felt myself slipping from reality last week in inpatient because of this and I don’t think I can do round 3 of inpatient.

3) kill myself and make sure I am nothing but successful. At least with that option, my funeral will be a one time expense my dad would pay for and not have to blow all his money on me because I’m a financial burden.

I’ve done a lot of research on how I can get help for this but those are my options. Another option is to apply for government long term disability but the criteria is that your disability needs to last longer than a year. I e also done a lot of research on this and I most likely would NOT be approved for this because I don’t have enough gaps in my resume to show me struggling to keep a job. That’s what they look for because you’re basically applying for disability because you can’t keep a job. So fuck me for being too functional while also being suicidal and depressed and grieving out of my damn mind.

I could make a go fund me but who would ever donate? And if they did, it would not be enough. I’m not popular online, it would never get attention. And even if it did, I don’t know I feel like those are my options that I listed but maybe I’m just too fucking dumb to use other options like actually go to IOP and have that be successful or have it not be successful and get knocked down to inpatient that my insurance would have to pay for at that point. But I’m too weak to start thinking in any positive aspect like I’m just. I’m fucked. My options are limited and this will probably end in me not breathing.

My dad said to hold on until Monday because he has church connections and these people have money and a variety of high up jobs, he’s going to ask and see if anyone has any ideas of what to do from here. He also said he knows the president of a huge medical company around us (the second biggest but probably even more powerful than the first) so he’s also going to ask him and see what can be done or any advice.

He mentioned that these people have money and power. I don’t know why that would help me, why strangers would throw money at me, and I doubt they would. But I only have until the end of the day tomorrow to try to keep myself safe unless something DOES come out of the conversations he has with people.

[dbnightingale24]

Hello, it’s me.

So, I’ve been sitting on posting my stories/updates for a while, because I’m anxious as fuck about it. Now, more times than not, I receive positive and helpful feedback and I love it. I love you guys for taking the time out to read my works at all. However, lately, it’s kind of felt like bullying. I’ve stopped posting them or responding to them if they show up in the comments (few of the people that have done it have either blocked me or their accounts have been disabled), but I do still get messages about my stories saying that the reader is stupid or I take my stories too far.

I put the warnings in the tags for a reason. These stories are loosely based off of my own personal traumas. I know how shitty it was for me to go through them, so I wanna make sure I make it safe for people who don’t actually want to read about them. I can only put so many tags, and I feel like the tags I do add are very precise. Unless I say otherwise, a lot of my stories are angsty, have mentions or detail abuse/sexual assault, and there’s a lot of sex and drinking. That’s me being subtle. I’ve been told that it reminds people of real life and that makes sense, because it’s overall based off of real life.

Yes, I have comfort characters that I use to tell these stories, so it’s not an exact account, but everything I’ve posted (unless I’ve written it for someone or it’s a holiday one-off), is based off of something that actually happened. All of this being said, if you see in the tags that it’s something that’ll trigger or upset you, please don’t read it. My intent is never to hurt or offend anyone, but I can’t do anything if you decide to proceed with reading what I post.

It’s not just me. I’ve seen it on other posts, and have heard about it from my friends on here. Tags are there for a reason. Please read and heed their warnings. If you insist upon reading a story that makes you upset, then kindly keep it to yourself.

Now, this doesn’t mean I can’t take or won’t listen to constructive criticism. However, there’s a difference between constructive criticism and tearing someone down because you read something that made you upset, even though you were warned that it will probably make you upset.

All of this being said, I’m hoping to get back into the swing of posting more frequently again, I love you all, thank you to anyone who actually takes the time to read what I write, thank you to everyone who provides feedback, and I’m sending lots of love and hugs to everyone. Keep kickin ass everyone 🥰💕