#then i think out of all the rep for DID characters

[podado-t-memes]

Holt Hyde💙pretending to be💛Jackson Jekyll😂

Petros Island, Greece.

Yo Deuce-

How's Greece and the Gorgon family reunion? I would say "wish you were here" but then I'd have to share ghouls with you and I kinda like being selfish.

Later, Jackson

...

Look at the handwriting! That is definitely Holt Hyde pretending to be Jackson! 🥸🕵️‍♀️📸🧐 It's especially evident in how the two write their "J"

Also! Jackson doesn't say "Yo" or "later." Who's he trying to fool?

Holt, you like being selfish? 👁️👄👁️ Should I be concerned?

Woah there Holt! 🧯💨💨 *sprays him with fire extinguisher*

Holt, do you need to join DJ Hyde in horny jail? 🤔 (Jeez that kid is horny 😓😩😵😵‍💫)

[simptasia]

LOST: Season One

[thenookspace]

Girl help I'm having aroace Miguel O'Hara thots

[unladielike]

Every once in a while, I'd remember @spiritpyro's Hayate mentioning in his internal monologue that he likes everything about Vivian, including even her personality and her speech patterns, which to this day, makes me emotional, because as a character, Vivian has gone through a lot... from characters getting pissed off at her for saying the wrong thing (thereby ending a thread prematurely) to characters outright not getting her humour and claiming she's unkind, even though it hadn't been her intention to offend them.

Granted, I don't really treat those as canon occurrences, because I'm not really a single verse blog, so any interactions from partners who have broken mutuals with me/deactivated/didn't follow me on my remade blog are null and void (meaning as far as Vivian is concerned, they have never occurred and will no longer be referenced in any threads/headcanon posts except for this one), but at the same time, I will lay in bed at night sometimes... and have this startling revelation that the way Vivian had been treated remarkably mirrors the experiences of most autistic people I've read about/heard from. Honestly, it's astounding to me how many on Reddit would describe similar struggles/feelings she also has, to the point where even though the RPC has a general distaste for slice-of-life muses, I still take comfort in the fact she is at least relatable.

Like, yeah, I might not be the most descriptive/poetic writer on this godforsaken site, but in my opinion, my characterization is where my writing truly shines best... and so, Hayate catching feelings for Vivian (despite me portraying both her flawed and endearing sides as a young, neurodivergent woman in her early twenties) is such a memorable thing to me, that I would find myself occasionally thinking about it even while I'm at work. I mean, granted, Vivian is nowhere near as dysfunctional as the main female lead from Asper Kanojo (That's My Atypical Girl), but it cannot be denied she is still very hard to love... to the point where Hayate pretty much fell out of love with her in an alternate universe.

Either way, it honestly hurt me on a deep, visceral level when Hayate was like, 'Fucking think before you speak', when they fought that one time, because autistic people will commonly be told that at some point in their lives... furthermore, Vivian had to hear that from someone she loves, so I can only imagine how betrayed she must have felt, especially since she already tries super hard when it comes to explaining things from her point of view and can only process her thoughts when speaking them due in part to her disability.

At the same time, though, it also makes me think that in the event Vivian and Hayate would romantically be together, this would realistically be a reoccurring issue within their relationship, where every time they would argue, she'd utter out stuff that would potentially annoy him, because according to Hayate, Vivian probably doesn't put a lot of thought into her words... so there would be instances where she would view him as an absolute alien. Still, knowing Vivian, I could also see the aftermath of their fights being one of those rare, few moments where she would wish she was more normal; after all, if she happened to be less difficult, Hayate might actually become less frustrated with her.

Since this is Hayate we're talking about, however, I could also see him potentially researching autism a bit more and slowly reaching a point where he would better understand Vivian, but either way, their relationship is one I always have fun, psycho-analyzing, because it's between an unpredictable, misanthrophic man and a manic, neurodivergent woman.

[skrunksthatwunk]

i love ichiban so much. like in general but like. he's so neurodivergent. so so much i haven't been able to let go of it since i started playing. he's still filtering everything through dragon quest after 18 fucking years in jail without touching it and his loved ones realize and adapt to this bc they're cool so theyre like,, okay,, lemme put it like this. so you got a debuff from your one night stand. it's gonorrhea. and he's like okay i understand. that blows but im ready to hear my treatment options. and then he'd handle it like a well adjusted adult. he just processes it in a roundabout kinda way. he's just like me fr. and he's fully hallucinating gamer shit in the middle of street fights and his friends (who he met 2 days ago) are like lol ok cool cat that's wild. keep hitting them idc. my stats are going up? that's actually really cool ty for telling me i love you forever. i would die for you. and they're right for it. like they just accept him as-is with little fanfare because that's just ichi. they get on his level conversationally and it's not some awful horrific burden to talk about a thing he likes. and he hallucinates and he's not portrayed as some scary monster or unsettling pitiable thing. he's a cool guy and he's got all these nd traits and i think a lotta ppl probably need to see that. it feels very humanizing to me idk. he's a deeply kind and intelligent and loyal and dependable and wonderful man. one of the game protagonists ever maybe THE game protagonist ever and he's always in fucking situations constantly, as is the case with every rgg protag. anyway i love him. i know a lotta ppl look at him and go oh adhd for sure bc he's bouncy or whatever. and while i question that impulse i see you,, but that is NOT all okay. my man has some comorbidities. he's at a quaint little buffet of the dsm-5. something is UP with him and he's doing marvelously and everybody loves him and I love him too. yeag

[designernishiki]

hot take but. oda is honestly one of the most interesting prominent side characters in y0 to me. like. don’t get me wrong obviously i don’t condone his actions, but speaking as a character design guy, i think he’s got a whole lot of complexity to think about in his story and identity that people tend to ignore/overlook because he’s not a black and white “good” person. like no shit he’s morally fucked, that doesn’t mean his intense pining and crazed level of dedication to tachibana and the lengths all his guilt and repressed love for the man he saw as the best thing to ever grace his life drove him to aren’t interesting to think about– if anything it makes him more interesting. he was. really something

[arcaneyouth]

honestly its so disheartening to regularly see shit like kinning or shifting or whatever theyre calling that get so shit on by most people, or to have the meaning change to something more tame and palatable for most people. i believe in that shit in a spiritual/religious kind of way. but unfortunately other people like me can be real fucking annoying about it in an easy to make fun of way so i probably shouldnt express that shit unless i want to be made fun of as well.

like even if they're being cringe about it and even if theyre not doing it for spiritual reasons like me maybe dont? make fun of them? for being cringe? and going "stupid idiot doesn't know its not real"?? yeah i dont think these people should be insisting this is scientific when its very much not but also like hey leave us alone maybe

[moondal514]

Whenever I see discourse about representation in media, all I can think about is how I have never ever once expected to see myself in a character, and in fact spent most of my childhood unaware that I was supposed to be seeing myself in the characters of the books/movies I loved, because the idea of expecting someone to write a character that’s an agnostic half-Korean half-Jewish Eastern European sex-averse asexual girl is laughable at best

[dmclemblems]

@themoomoorn replied:

The fact that fans really don't seem bothered by the extra racist baggage and implications that get thrown Almyra's way in exchange for frothing about Cyril and the fact that the route puts the onus of change on the church and Fodlan itself and excuses most of Claude's behavior...like dude

For sure, and all the comments I see that say Claude was fair and just, yadda yadda, always leave out how terrible Almyra gets portrayed in this game. I mean in Houses it wasn’t... totally great and there were still some unfortunate undertones happening, but it’s blown to extremes in Hopes.

Notably from what I’ve seen, it’s the people who support the actions in GW that never mention the Almyran problem, or the fact that it’s the poc characters who are doing the morally questionable things. I remember when the game script leaked and my first thoughts about GW were “oh great, of course it’s the only brown main character who does all the shitty things”. Then I got deeper into it with the Nader and Shahid stuff, Claude declaring war on all of the rest of Fodlan, and of course let’s not forget them trying to squeak the King of Almyra’s bullshit treatment of his own child by with lol he was half asleep.

Because to be frank, it’s pretty Not Cool to me when I see that the Almyran King specifically is one of the worst parents in the game. I’d even say what he does is borderline abusive. There are only a small number of other dads in the game that are actually scummy, like... you know, Mercedes’ father, who... you know, died because Jeritza looked at him and went “wow, scum of the earth who deserves to die”.

Part of why I didn’t like GW is because it felt so... icky seeing how Almyra and especially Claude and Nader got handled. I wish they just left the morally questionable things in Edelgard’s route like they did with CF instead of deciding their fandom’s waifu was more important than an unoriginal storyline about the brown people being invaders and all that. 🙃

[ziracona]

Incredible just how much more people liked me for including, and valued my inclusion of, the disabilities/queer/neurodivergent stuff I wrote before they knew I was those things myself.

[ajdrawshq]

i finished 7th dragon a lil while ago n some of the worldbuilding is so funny i cant stop thinking abt it. why is the lost city of atlantis populated by catgirls

[oddinary4bts]

To Give a Helping Hand | jjk (ch 2)

☆summary: when Jungkook finally approaches you at the gym, he realizes you've been wanting him just as badly as he's been wanting you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, explicit content: mentions of hard drugs (in a metaphor, no character does hard drugs), jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), fantasies about female oral sex (face riding), ball fondling, a tiny bit of marking, exhibitionism (they are in a car?), deep throating ish?, mouth fucking

☆word count: 3.1k

☆a/n: pure unedited sins again bc you guys asked for it and I am far too horny for mr jeon jungkook (thank you, calvin klein). I also wrote this when I was severely depressed and in need of a distraction so my bad if it sucks haha

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook watches himself in the mirror. His hair clings to the sweat on his forehead as he curls his arms, the strain enough to make him wince. Yet he pushes through, finishes the motion and then goes for another one.

He always trains until failure. Because it’s the best way to grow muscle, yes, but also because he likes the pain of it. Likes the burn, likes to put his body through the worst.

He knows he can take it.

It helps that you’re just a few benches away, doing some Bulgarian split squats. Twenty-five-pound dumbbells in each hand, you’ve been going for twelve reps each time, your focus unfaltering as you stare at a spot on the floor in front of you.

Jungkook wishes you’d look at him.

His next bicep curl ends on failure, and he winces as he lets go of the weights, putting them down on each side of the bench. He grabs his water bottle, taking a long swig of it as he looks at your reflection in the mirror.

You’ve got perfect form, your strong thighs pushing up on what he thinks is your fifth – sixth? – rep on your right leg. Your muscles shift under your skin as you move, and Jungkook forces himself to look away.

He doesn’t want to end up with a boner like he did last time. He’s been ashamed of himself somehow, and he doesn’t want to repeat it.

But it’s like you’re keen on teasing him. On being a walking nightmare, with those same devilish biker shorts that fried his brain that time. He’d told himself that he’d approach you, but so far he hasn’t been successful.

Indeed, you’ve suddenly decided to start coming to the gym with a friend, and though your friend is cute, with dark skin that hints at a perfect skincare routine, Jungkook doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you.

But yes, you’re keen on teasing him, doing squats next to him after he’s moved to do shoulder press on the machine. Indeed, despite all the squat racks being empty in the gym right now, you choose  the one right in front of Jungkook, and it’s a battle of will to refrain from looking at your ass each time you’re bending down.

So Jungkook looks up to the ceiling, pushes up, and he clenches his jaw at the strain in his shoulders. It’s a good burn, one he knows will leave him sore, but it’s also one that leaves him thirsty when he finishes his reps. Unfortunately, his water bottle is empty, so he walks to the water station, the music in his earbuds loud.

He’s almost done refilling his bottle when you come up behind him, with your own water bottle in hand. He feels your eyes on his profile and, heart suddenly racing, Jungkook meets your gaze.

You already have a small, knowing smile on your lips when his eyes find yours. Beautiful as ever with your high ponytail, Jungkook finds he gets lost in your gaze, unable to find the exit.

It comes to him when the water in his bottle overflows and he makes a mess on the floor. You chuckle and, despite his cheeks burning, Jungkook faces you fully.

“You come here often?” he asks over the sound of his earbuds, and he quickly takes one out.

If you’re surprised that he’s speaking to you, you don’t let it show. Instead, you raise your water bottle, motioning towards the water station. “Just a couple of times per workout.”

Jungkook feels like an idiot, yet he steps aside to let you fill up your bottle. He doesn’t walk away though, just watches you, and damn if you aren’t even more beautiful from so close.

It isn’t fucking fair.

“I’ve noticed we often come here at the same time,” Jungkook says, scrambling to find something to talk to you about.

You offer him a corner smile as you finish filling up your bottle, twisting the cap back on. “We do.”

He purses his lips, wondering if you can hear the thunder in his chest, and then he says, “I’m Jungkook.”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief, and he wants to curse himself because obviously you know who he is. But you surprise him, replying with your name and a polite bow of your head, and immediately mirrors the motion.

Then he says your name, and he has a feeling it’ll become his favourite word to moan whenever he comes. It’s inevitable – the lust he has for you is clouding his vision even now, as if the rest of the gym is fading out of focus. You don’t disappoint, holding his gaze, lips slightly parted as if you, too, are imagining what it’d be like to be together.

To tangle in bed together, up until the rest of the world cease to exist.

Is it stupid that Jungkook asks for your number next? He doesn’t think so. Especially not as you oblige, putting it into his phone. It feels like a victory – a huge one, one he knows he’ll celebrate in an entirely not appropriate way, yet he can’t stop himself from smiling to you.

It’s like you’ve given him strength to finish his workout grandly. Indeed, he maxes his PR on his next two exercises, and he leaves the gym with a comfortable soreness in his arms and shoulders, right after he’s taken a quick shower.

To his surprise, you’re standing outside, near the building in the dim light of dusk, eyes glued to your phone when he steps out of the gym.

“Need a lift?” he can’t help but ask.

You startle and he does feel bad, up until your features break into a smile that makes his heart race in his chest. “Just waiting for the bus,” you say.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, surprised that you can afford this gym yet use public transport. He wonders, are you the kind of girl who cares about the environment to the point that you decided not to get a car? Something about the thought is adorable, and Jungkook toys with his lip piercings for a few seconds.

“I mean, I really don’t mind lifting you if you need to,” he repeats, hoping with everything in his soul that you’ll say yes.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you insist, scrunching up your nose cutely. “But thanks for offering.”

He takes a few steps towards you so that you don’t have to speak so loud anymore, desperately looking for something else to say. “Where’s your friend?” he asks, thinking he’s a genius for asking.

“Sera?” you answer, as if he has any clue what your friend is called. “Oh, her boyfriend picked her up earlier.”

“He didn’t offer to drive you?” Jungkook says, not bothering to hide the condescendence in his tone.

You wince. “I fear that’s too much to ask of Yeonseok.”

“Then I really must drive you home,” Jungkook insists, offering you the sweetest smile he can convey.

“And what, find out where I live before you’ve even taken me out on a date?”

It’s like the world stops turning, and all Jungkook can see is you, and that twinkle of mischief lighting your gaze.

“You want me to take you out on a date?” he asks, fully aware of that bright pink Kooky plushie swinging from your keychain right now.

“Who wouldn’t?” you tease.

He narrows his gaze, yet can’t help but play along with you.

He’s been going insane for this moment for weeks after all.

“Then let’s say this is our first date,” he says. “We can drive around and if you like it, I’ll drop you at home, if you don’t I’ll drop you somewhere else. Deal?”

You smile, genuine, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal.”

And that’s how Jungkook finds himself in his car with you seated next to him, your head bobbing along to the music on the radio. Though you’re quick to turn towards him, your gaze burning on his profile.

“How long have you wanted to talk to me?”

Jungkook chokes on his saliva, and he coughs as he glances at you, the tip of his ears reddening. “What?”

“You think I haven’t noticed you staring at me every time we work out at the same time?” you tease, and you laugh as he shrugs his shoulders.

“You’ve been putting on a show, it’s not my fault.”

“I have?”

He lets out a non-committal sound that makes you laugh, a crystalline laugh that sounds like he’ll get addicted to it far too easily. Like heroin – one hit and he’s a goner.

As you laugh, you rest your hand on his thigh, giving it a quick, playful squeeze.

Insane. He’s fucking insane for you.

“Listen,” you say after a tense silence with your hand on his thigh. “I really am not looking for a relationship right now.”

He hears the underlying truth – you wouldn’t date an idol. He doesn’t blame you.

It’s not like he plans on ever dating you anyway.

“But if you want some fun, then I’m all in.”

His throat feels dry, and Jungkook wets his lips, glancing at you quickly. The mischief has shifted into pure lust, something he wasn’t expecting he’d see right away.

Hell, he’d imagined he’d have to work for it. But you’re offering yourself on a silver platter, and he’d be fucking dumb to let the opportunity slip away.

“You aren’t what I expected,” he says.

No, you are ten times better.

You run your hand up and down his thigh, head tilted to the side as you look at him. It’s hard to focus on the street in front of him, especially as his dick already starts getting hard.

“I hope that’s a good thing,” you let out on a low, breathy tone that makes him truly lose touch with sanity.

“Have you ever seen the city from the mountains?” he asks seemingly out of the blue.

You pout, glancing towards those you can see in the distance. “On hikes, yeah I have. Why?”

“I know a spot.”

He doesn’t actually, but he ends up finding one anyway after you’ve driven around for a little while. Though you can’t see most of the city from here, it’s still beautiful, twinkling lights looking back at you down in the city.

You admire the view, and Jungkook gets lost admiring you. Your profile is delicate, your hair still just as fluffy and unruly around your head. He instinctively pushes a strand behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek as you meet his gaze.

The car fills with electricity, with an intensity that cannot be ignored, and Jungkook dives in, pressing his mouth on yours. You immediately kiss him back, your hand finding his thigh again, and Jungkook pushes his tongue in your mouth, lapping you up, making the kiss far too languid for his own good.

You let out a breathy sound that makes him see stars, and when your hand shifts closer to his dick, he feels all his blood rushing down. His own hand finds the back of your head, and he tilts his to the side to deepen the kiss, right as he softly grunts.

You’re a good kisser. All lips and tongue, and Jungkook wants to pull you on his lap, to keep on kissing you all night long, but it seems you’ve got other plans in mind. Indeed, you pull away from the kiss, leaving him breathing raggedly as he looks at you quizzically, but then you’re quickly pulling your hair back into a ponytail.

His heartrate skyrockets as he understands what will happen next. It’s like he’s stuck in one of his deepest, darkest fantasies, and you’re jumping right in with him.

You truly are devilish, aren’t you?

When your hair is safely tucked in a ponytail, you meet Jungkook’s gaze. Your eyes shine with undiluted lust, and it steals the breath from his lungs.

To be the receiver of such desire…

He’s going to come far too quickly, isn’t he?

You pat his thigh again, leaning in for another kiss. Jungkook immediately obliges, colliding his mouth with the softness of yours. You palm him through his pants the second he pushes his tongue between your lips again, and Jungkook grunts as he instinctively bucks his hips, seeking for more friction.

“You’re a little impatient,” you say as you pull away, and you glance down at where you’re touching him. “Maybe we should get you out of your pants.”

It doesn’t take more than that to convince Jungkook to push his pants down, and he’s soon sitting there, his dick out in his car as if someone can’t just pull up and see.

Yet the thought turns him on, and Jungkook is infinitely thankful that he took a quick shower at the gym when you grab the base of his dick, jerking him off once.

“You’re so big,” you breathe.

All he can do is grunt as you stroke him again, your grip firm. It feels even better than he imagined. Like heaven – your hand fits perfectly around him, and you expertly flick your wrist whenever you near the top.

All that’s missing is lube, but you’re quick to bend down, blowing a breath on the sensitive tip of his dick.

“Shit,” Jungkook lets out.

“You often get sucked in your car?” you ask like the brat you are.

He can’t reply. Not when you wrap your lips around his tip, and he thinks he’s floating out of his body. Your mouth is wet, warm and so, so soft around him he thinks he might just come already.

“No,” he chokes out as you swirl your tongue around him before pushing down on him, up until he hits the back of your throat.

It takes everything in Jungkook not to buck his hips and fuck your mouth. But he wants to be nice, wants to play nice, if only so that he won’t scare you.

He doesn’t want to lose you before he’s even had you.

He reclines his seat, allowing you a better access, and you reward him with a small moan as you can take more of him in, and it’s enough to make his mind spin with addictive bliss.

You pull away, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick. “Good boy.”

That’s it. He’s a goner. Especially when you truly get to work, offering him the perfect combination of sucking and tongue, of your hand jerking him off in time with the bobbing of your head. He keeps his moans low, more grunts than anything, but when you moan as he hits the back of your throat, Jungkook curses loudly.

“You like this?” you tease, blinking away tears from the gag reflex you’ve been holding in.

“Holy fuck,” he answers, and you laugh lightly before taking him in your mouth once more.

You’re drooling all over him, sucking his soul out of his body, and Jungkook feels his balls tightening.

Already.

“Wait,” he lets out, and you pull away, breathing heavily as you meet his gaze.

“Uh?”

He wipes the drool on your lips, and you immediately suck on his thumb, tongue teasing the pad of the finger. You’re going to fry his brain before the end of the night, aren’t you?

“If you keep sucking me like this I’ll come.”

You smirk, downright lustful. “Isn’t that the point?”

“I want to fuck you,” he says, and he hates that he sounds so pouty, but he can’t help it.

He wants to live every single one of his dirty fantasies with you, after all.

“And I want to know what your cum tastes like,” you counter, squeezing his dick hard.

Jungkook moans, his eyes fluttering shut, his defiance fully leaving him now. If you want him to come in your mouth, then he’ll happily oblige. And then you’re bending down, going back to work as he murmurs your name.

You’re better than he imagined, so much better, and his dick twitches in your mouth as you moan. He feels the vibrations all along his shaft, and he grabs your ponytail, increasing your rhythm. Pushing your head down on him so that you take more of him, and when you don’t complain, instead moaning again, Jungkook stops holding himself back.

He fucks up in your mouth, and your hand flies to his thigh, your nails digging in his skin. The slight pain sets his nerves alight with desire, and he loses himself in you, in the rocking of his hips as he snaps them up in your mouth.

You take him in, holding the gag reflex in, moaning as he establishes a quick rhythm to chase his orgasm. He thinks he’s in love with your mouth – you’re so good, too good to him. He highly doubts he deserves it.

Not when he hasn’t given you anything in return. And he wants to taste you, wants you to sit on his face until he can’t breathe anymore and he gets drunk to the taste of you. It’s that image that brings him closer to his high, so close he already buzzes with it.

You push him over the edge when you grab his balls, gently squeezing. He moans out your name as he comes, unloading his cum deep in your throat as you take over, bobbing your head up and down slowly to milk his orgasm.

And you do milk his orgasm. You fucking do – he’s truly, fully swimming in bliss by the time his dick stops twitching, his balls fully emptied.

You pull away from him, and he thinks he loves your mouth even more when you push your tongue out to show that you swallowed everything. It’s so hot he’d fool himself into going for another round, but the hour is getting late, and he’s got an early morning tomorrow.

“Holy shit,” he lets out.

You laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “That felt good?”

“Fuck, yeah it did.”

You smirk, tilting your head to the side. “Happy to oblige.”

“I’ll have to repay the favour to you one of these days,” Jungkook says, and he hopes you don’t hear the underlying hope in his tone.

He doesn’t want you to think he’s been dreaming about you, about your body for so long.

You wet your lips. “Your place this weekend?”

And though maybe he should say no, as you’re the fan and he the idol, Jungkook answers with, “Bring a bottle of wine.”

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Yeah this is pure sin. Porn with practically no plot hahah did we like it? Let me know what you thought!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[moki-dokie]

been seeing some stuff on blue eye samurai and big yikes to nearly everyone pushing extremely western ideals onto these characters.

this is early edo period. 1600s. the japan you know now did not exist yet.

yall. please. there was NO concept of sexuality in pre-modern japan. that came with both the influx of christianity and western influence very very late in history. like, mid-1800s. (yes, there was christianity pre-1800s but it was not a widespread idea yet and wouldn't be until about the 1800s since, y'know, missionaries were routinely murdered before then)

"so and so is either bi and hasn't figured it out yet or..." no. that isn't how it worked then. nobody gave a shit what was between your legs. anyone could be attracted to anyone else. it was a little more common for male homosexual relationships to be between an adult and younger male - like many other places around the world - but two adult men could bang and love each other just as easily. relationships between women were quite common - especially since so many men were often away at war. there's tons of pornographic prints from the time depicting all manner of fun queer relationships. sex itself had absolutely no moral assignment to it. good sex was good health. it didn't matter who with. (well, social class/caste mattered more than anything else tbh but that didn't stop upper and lower class from fucking.) that isn't to say people didn't have preferences. of course they did. that is human nature. preferences arose more from physical appearance, caste, and circumstances with gender being about the last thing one would look for in a partner - romantic, casual, or otherwise. the only role in sex where gender actually mattered was for procreation.

there would be no queer awakening moment, no sudden switch flipped, no stigma to have internal conflicts about because it simply did not exist as a concept whatsoever. you were either attracted to a person or you weren't, it was that simple. gender played no role when it came to sex and sexual attraction. the japanese were lightyears ahead of western cultures in this particular area - like most cultures were before christianity came in and ruined everything with its backwards morals and strict good/evil dichotomy.

yall have got to realize queer rep will not and should not always adhere by modern western standards. there was no straight, gay, bi, or anything else of the sort. the closest they ever got was referring to roles during sex - as in who is giving and who is receiving.

i know this is mostly a made up story but it is still set within a very specific time period and culture, which should be honored and respected by not making it fit into our box. tons of research went into making this show historically accurate (albeit with some discrepancies but tbh they aren't really that huge) right down to the calligraphy writing. please please please don't whitewash the culture from these characters.

i say this mainly because without this knowledge, so many of you are going to build these characters up on a foundation they aren't meant to be on and then you'll rage about queerbaiting and bad queer rep if it isn't somehow super explicitly stated, if it doesn't match your very modern, very western ideal of what queer looks like. don't try to force this plot and narrative and characters into something they canonically and historically aren't. headcanons are a thing, AUs are a thing, fanfiction is a thing - leave your western thinking for those and let these characters simply exist as they should otherwise. this is one of those times where the queerness really does not need to be examined at all beyond what we get.

i know it can be hard to wrap your head around - sexuality is such a huge part of our identity in the western world and has slowly started to spread amongst other parts of the world in importance. but just keep in mind with these particular characters, that concept would be so very alien to them.

[lawchwan]

you look pretty when you cry (zoro, law, sanji)

summary: how they would react when they see you cry requested: @somethingsaladsomething reader: gn!reader disclaimer: nsfw with sanji, use of safeword, (although the sex is consensual, sanji’s can be a bit triggering so if you don’t want to deal with the whole thing, i suggest you skip it), implied physical harassment with zoro, while this is gn! reader was refered as wife in zoro’s part, implied depression or anxiousness with law (although i suffer from both, the piece is not the most accurate rep so take it as you will), rushed work, just one piece characters being sweeties genre: headcanon, fluff, suggestive a/n: my first request !!! i hope i don't disappoint here :) sorry i took forever though

crossposted on ao3

Law

Now I don't want to sit in the chat and say Law’s emotionally unintelligent, because he is not but he definitely has his moments where he needs to read the room before he acts. bare with him, he's just learning with you on how a relationship should work. he’s the type to leave you alone when you’re upset because thats his usual instinct that when one’s upset, they want to be left alone. he kinda has to learn the hard way that that’s not always the case…

You woke up in a funk and just did not feel alright. You were stressed and burned out and all you wanted was the comfort of your big hunk of a boyfriend, a simple cuddle with no exchange of words would've sufficed for your case.

Unfortunately, that's not how life works and it can be pretty unfair. Law’s been too preoccupied with whatever he's doing. With what? you don't know and don't care, what could he be doing that's more important than comforting you on your worst days? Furthermore, it didn't help that when you woke up, he wasn't even next to you in bed before he up and left.

Loneliness consumed you as your intrusive thoughts began to take their toll on you and start inhabiting your psyche. You knew they were irrational, you knew that Law wasn't going to leave you, you knew that he has the terrible habit of Irish Goodbye-ing his way out of a situation, you KNEW that you mean so much to him.

But his lack of communication is a flaw that you never think will challenge you as you thought you already what was coming. Law was a man with little words, so you can’t expect much from him, right?

You began tearing up as you start to grasp onto the pillow that Law once laid in, getting any ounce of remnants of him that can act as a source of comfort. Sure, it contained his manly scent that makes swoon and the pillow was soft, however it didn’t contain his usually cold beating heart that you enjoyed listening while holding him. You needed him badly as you began sobbing into the plush.

Unbeknownst to you, Law walked in, completely unbothered as he placed his kikoku to the side and closed the door. It didn’t register until he heard sniffles and the muffled sobbing that made Law furrow his brows in confusion. You began shaking as you almost screamed into the pillow Law would usually sleep in.

Law looked around the room in an almost panicked manner, almost like he’s trying to find the source on who made you cry before he leaned in to the bed and began shaking you.

“hey, hey, (y/n), what happened?!” Law hastily spoke. He was not the best at emotions but he will surely go kill someone that made you feel this way.

You lifted your face from the pillow, finally looking up at the person who has been in your mind the whole time he was gone. He’s studying your face while your lips quivered before you tackled his body by wrapping your whole body into his, your face on his neck. Law threw one arm behind him for support while the other arm instinctively wrapped around your midriff.

As you two settled, Law held your head as the other began stroking your back. He didn’t know what resulted in you acting this way, so he began speaking.

“(y/n), is there any—“

“Shut up, Law,” you interrupted as you spoke into his skin which made Law taken aback, “I just want you in my arms…”

Law’s tensed body relaxed as you grasped onto him like he was about to fade away from your arms. He is usually very awkward about physical touch and emotional confrontation, but he knew he can’t simply walk away from you and leave you be whenever you you’re not feeling the greatest.

he realizes that that it’s okay to remain, and if you wanted to be left alone, you’ll tell him. For now, however, all you both need is to be in each other’s arms to ease each other up.

“It’s okay, (y/n)… I’m here now”

Zoro

another awkward man who doesn’t know how to deal with emotions. he, like law, will go after someone who tries to harm his loved ones, he’s not here to play around.

You were running for the life of you, panting as you picked up the speed as someone was chasing you down. Everything was happening so fast, one second you were just eyeing at beautiful and intricate jewelry at bazaar near town, in awe of the sheer beauty and how colorful these gems gleamed in center. It was in the pricier side, which is what you expected, but you couldn’t help but gawk at the shiny gemstone that was practically calling your name.

A man stood by you, observing how you were eyeing at the jewel, took the opportunity to introduce himself and insist on buying this beautiful gem. You’ve naturally rejected his offer…

And next thing you knew, he was harassing you and chasing you down, demanding your hand in marriage. You ran away before he caught you—thanks to Zoro’s training in speed—but that’s all you could manage to do. You began finding a spot to hide, bumping into locals as you proceed to run while the man was calling out for you.

Once you find a crevice you can hide in, you kneeled as you began to wrap your arms around your legs as your breath began to shake in fear. Tears started to well up as you silently began calling out your boyfriend, hoping he can save you from this.

“(y/n)?” you hear a familiar voice, making your head jolt up at the man standing in front of you. It was Zoro, your boyfriend whom you prayed will show up. You only shook as you began stuttering and standing up to hold him.

You began sobbing onto his chest, meanwhile he froze in place, clueless on what to do. Your intention of hiding was shown to be futile, as your sobs echoed in the market, drawing unwanted attention while Zoro was looking around to see what happened, what lead to you in this mess.

“(y/n), I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—” Zoro sternly yet worriedly spoke before he was interrupted by a roar.

“You get your filthy hands out of my future wife!”

Your blood ran cold as you heard that deep voice that struck fear into you. Once Zoro felt the stiffness and looked at the man who stood in front of the two of you, he already connected the puzzle pieces together.

So that’s the bastard that made you cry in fear…

“Your future wife, you say,” Zoro smirked that iconic devilish smirk before he rubbed your back, silently telling you to release him, which you did. That’s who Zoro was, a man with not many words, but you understood his language better than anyone could. You stood back while Zoro crossed his arms with a straight stand as he eyes at the man who’s ready attack him.

“That’s right! I even got her the jewel she wanted!” The harasser yelled as he grabbed hold of the jewel. You once admired that ring he was holding, now that it was in his hands, he absolutely tainted it. But Zoro couldn’t careless, he gathered both of his swords out, making the man jump in fear.

“Oh, I see, you got her that ring, how romantic…” Zoro taunted, enjoying the sight of the cowardly man standing in front of him. You only gulped at the sight, you knew Zoro will kill him, and he could only spare him if the man just ran away. Zoro simply walked up to him only for the man to walk backwards, legs shaking.

“Stand back! O-or I will kil—“

“Would like to see you try.” Zoro harshly spoke, which made the man ran before Zoro intimidatedly raised his sword at him.

“Coward,” he mumbled to himself before he placed his swords back to their case. Before he turned, he looked at the gleaming ring on the ground. He walked up to the source and picked it up to examine it, that was the ring that the man was holding earlier.

He turned to you, hugging yourself in the corner, not wanting your boyfriend to see your crying face. He smiled at you as he showcased the ring in his palm, “is this the ring that you were admiring?”

You only pursed your lips as you nodded. As much as you wanted to hate the ring for what that man did, you still had to admit that that ring was the most beautiful jewel you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Zoro held your hand gently, and placed the ring in your ring finger. You looked at him in awe, only for him to smirk at you.

“I may not have bought the ring, which is a shame, but you deserve it…” He’s not the most romantic, but he always means well, which made you giggle when he tried to be one. He smiled at you as he held your face, rubbing away the remaining tear on your face.

”i got you, okay? just remember that…”

Sanji

out of the three of them, Sanji’s definitely the more in tune of emotions. He may not be the vulnerable one in the relationship, but he definitely allows himself to be emotional when he wants to with you and this man will do anything that will make that frown upside down.

It was a long night after a stressful day for the two of you. You thought you needed that destress but I guess your body asked for something different.

It was like any other regular session, Sanji gave you the foreplay that you needed before he laid on top of you, thrusting in and out of you letting out the sweetest of moans and whimpers.

He praises you and repeatedly tells you how good you feel, all the thibgs that typically turns you on, yet you feel like you’re in pain.

You don’t know what’s wrong, but you just didn’t feel good while Sanji attempts on pleasuring you. Instead there was this sharp pain in between your legs, the stretch of his cock went from the usual pleasurable sensation to discomfort.

“S-sanji… please…” you moaned out, but it wasn’t of arousal. Unfortunately, it sounded too similar to your pleasured state, thus Sanji thought you were just in pleasure, so he went in a pace much painful than you expected.

“fuck, c’mon, baby, c’mon, you’re doing so good~”

There was no use, you were in so much pain and you felt your tears welling up and started to sob at the sharp that your boyfriend has no idea of. You simply cannot take it anymore.

”BUTTERSQUASH!”

once you yelped out the safeword, Sanji’s blissed closed eyes shot open as he halted his movement. He was looking at the headboard until he heard you sob. His heart sank as he pulled away from you and backed away slightly, far to give you space but close enough to be able to check on you.

“baby, are you okay?” He looked at you with concern in his eyes, his blue eyes glimmer in worry, guilt written all across his face, “I am so sorry, darling, I should’ve guessed that you weren’t comfortable…”

You reached out for his hand and shook your head as you got closer to him, “don’t apologize, I thought I also needed this, but I guess I don’t”

That didn’t reassured his guilty self one bit, so you began stroking his face and placed your forehead on his.

“It’s okay, Sanji, I’m okay.”

Sanji just pulled you in to his embrace and you hugged him back as you relax onto his arms.

“I’ll never hurt you, nor will I allow anyone to hurt you… You’re too precious to be hurt…”

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[s-4pphics]

click! 4 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 6.7k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, angst… these hoes toxic, crazy sexual tension, kissing!!! :), fondling, dry humping, fingering!!, some dirty talk uh oh, slight unrequited love, bad communication… like awful, more slut shaming, mentions of awful parents, brief mention of alc and weed

This eucalyptus face mask is not doing what it’s supposed to! 

Ultimate calming effect! Relaxation is at your feet and on your face! 

… Yeah, right. Why is your blood pressure touching the ceiling, then? 

It’s fucking Sunday and it’s dark outside. It’s not even seven yet. You can hear rustling in the living room and you know Ellie’s prepping for today. Your anxiety is through the roof and in the clouds! 

Why the fuck did you accept this much responsibility again? What if you look like a fucking idiot and she fires you? Is this even a job if it’s a one-time thing? Your hands are sweating. Is it too late to jump out your window and plummet to your death?

Meow! Meow! 

“Good morning, baby girl! Are you hungry?” You hear Ellie coo through the wall and your heart sores. You'd be smiling so wide if this mask wasn’t solid concrete. 

You walk into the living room and are blinded by the bright ceiling lights. Your bill is going to skyrocket! 

“Hi.” 

Ellie, cat in arms, jumps at your voice, spinning to face you. Your skin is on fire as her eyes glaze over your appearance, cheeks tinting and fingers twitching under the thick fur. 

“Hey… you look… you look nice,” She mutters back, and you smile. 

“Thank you.” 

Meow!

Ellie’s brow arches at the baby. “Yeah? You think so, too?” 

Meow! Meow!

Ellie sets her down and lets her roam, shoving her hands into her sweats. She takes a step closer. “What’re we gonna name her?” 

“Toothle— “

Ellie rolls her eyes, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking basic.”

“Well, excuse me! I’ll shut the fuck up!” You snark playfully, “What were you thinking, Ms. I don’t fuck with animals?”

“I already told yo— “

“AHT, AHT!” You hold a finger up to hush her and she scoffs, “Toothless is one of the best animated characters of our time! Loyal, cute as fuck! Fuck everybody else in that movie! Show the drag—”

“Pickle.” 

“What.” 

“I’ve been calling her Pickle! Her name is pickle.” Ellie’s smiling at the pattering kitten, and, for some reason, you don’t fight her on it. She looks so happy; Pickle it is. 

She’s clicking her tongue at Pickle who rubs against her covered leg. With those gray sweats on, she’s luring two cats over—

“You ready?” Ellie exhales. Your eyes widen, yanked out of your drifting thoughts. You nod gently, jitters kicking in your fingertips. 

“Sorry you had to wake up this early. It takes a while for me to edit and all that, but— “

“Ellie, don’t worry! I’m — I’m excited! Just, uh… Just guide me, I guess. You’re the one with the vision.” You’re not sure if the shoot or Ellie is making you nervous. She smells so good, freshly showered and warmth radiating off of her. 

“… Guide you?” She smirks. 

Suddenly, the air is hot. “Yeah, like… tell me what to do… f-for the shot.” You awkwardly point at the set. 

“Giving me permission to use you?” She wisps and your lashes flutter, head bobbing dumbly in approval. The other cat has made her appearance! She’s meowing! Somebody stop her! 

“Alright, then… go sit.” Ellie’s head nods towards the black stool in the middle of the backdrop, and you’re moving like a trackstar, plopping down on the stool. Ellie clicks her tongue again and Pickle meows. 

“Gonna put her in my room for now. Don’t wanna scare her.” She scoops Pickle up and waddles into the short hallway, giving kit-kat one last kiss before softly shutting her door. 

Your catless roomie is in front of you in an instant, fiddling with that big ass umbrella before adjusting her tripod. 

“So, explain. What does all this do?” 

“Um…” she looks through her camera lense. Right at you, “Different things. Has to do with light control for the most part. Red is your color, by the way.” 

You gaze at your fit; You’re going to cry. “Thanks.” 

“Mhm.” 

Some silence passes before Ellie grumbles, “You’re slouching.” 

Your shoulders instantly straighten. Maybe too much, “No, I’m not.” 

A blank look from Ellie as she peeks from behind the lense, “Don’t slouch. You’re the star, remember?” She jabs jokingly. You take a deep breath. Another clumsy adjustment trying to find a pose. 

Ellie snorts as she watches you struggle, and you pout. “I'm sorry! I don’t know…” You move like a robot and she laughs. Why is she walking closer? Oh, fuck— 

“Here.” Her hands grab your shoulders, and you go lax, right in her grasp, allowing her to move you however she wants. Her touch is melting your skin through your sleeves. 

“Just… stay there.” Three wide steps, and she’s behind her camera, “Chin down a little.” She mutters. She’s encouraging with every instruction you follow, and you’re relaxing. Your movements are small, but by the series of bright flashes, they must be good enough to capture. You hope. Please, God. 

“Stay right there. That’s perfect.” 

“That’s it. Yeah, put your leg there.” 

“Twist your body a little.” 

I like that look, that’s good. Keep doing that. 

You don’t know what your eyes are doing, but Ellie's eating it up. She doesn’t know what her words are doing for your confidence. She’s in your ears, in your presence, encouraging everything you’re giving the flashing camera. Your poses get bolder, eyes going softer the more you inspect her. 

“Chin down again. Like… look through your lashes…” 

Ellie’s so focused on you and it’s making your mouth water. She’s so calm and controlling, but not overbearing. She lets you take the reins and yanks them when she’s got something. The twist of your wrist, the flutter of your lashes, the doting expression on your face. It’s sparking something in her, you can see it from where you sit. She's so attractive when she’s working. 

And then she smiles and your heart leaps. Flash. 

“You like this.” She notes. 

Another flash when you smile, “A little. This is fun.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m getting booked for your grad pics?” 

Not if you fail statistics! “Gonna have to ask my dad! He’s picky!” 

She hums with a light chuckle. “You look good in these. He’ll like me.” 

More flashes, and there’s scratching at Ellie’s door. She sighs like it pains her to continue, “Hold on, baby! Almost done!” She coos at Pickle. 

She mutters, “I’m gonna take, like… ten more. The mood’s gonna change a little if that’s cool.” 

You stop yourself from slouching. “Sure, uh… what do I do now?” 

“Imagine love as a vice. Think about the turmoil that comes with losing that feeling for somebody.” 

Your mind instantly whirls to Dina and your heart cracks. What a turn of fucking events! 

“Um… is that like… isn’t that like, a lot?” 

Ellie’s unfazed, “Emotions are a lot. That’s the point.” 

You don’t like this anymore. Vulnerability. Blegh. “… Okay.” 

She’s waiting on you, but you’re frozen. You can’t stop thinking about every moment you and Dina spent together. Everything was so… good. It was filled with happiness. You anticipated every day that came because it meant you’d see her. 

“Alright?” 

You look up at Ellie’s call. You ignore her. 

“Am I emoting well?” You snicker sarcastically. You’re aching inside. 

She studies you, all over your face, but you’re stunted. You don’t know what to say.

“Yes.” She whispers, and you nod, mind wandering to the darkest parts of your memory. You miss being happy. The camera’s flashing, but you’re unperturbed. How much will you be able to ruin before you die? If your wallowing is jeopardizing the shot, Ellie doesn’t comment on it. You focus on the clock ticks coming from the kitchen. 

Ellie’s gentle voice pulls you from underwater after a while, “Okay… I think that’s it.” Your breath is ragged and your fingers won’t stop twitching. You’re up from your seat with a breathy okay, sliding into the kitchen and stealing a water bottle from the fridge. There’s cluttering behind you but you’re desperately downing your drink. 

She's closer than you think. Right behind you, actually! You almost choke when her hand softly closes around your bicep.

“Hey, um… You okay?”

You swallow harshly and nod, blinking away tears; She’s so close, “Love fucking sucks.” You joke wetly. 

A laugh that caresses your ears escapes her, “Damn. Fuck that shit, then.” 

“Finally, someone gets it! Fuck, like…” You set your water down and wipe away heavy droplets with your free arm. Ellie’s eyes travel over your face, lands of green sparkling in her pupils. 

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” She whispers. 

“Of course!” Your smile is delicate, “I hope there’s something in there you can use.” 

Her head shakes, smile as gentle as rose petals, “I got it, trust me.” 

The silence that follows is heavy, your breaths in sync. “Was… Are you okay?” You’ve never seen her eyes this delicate. You nod, eyes dropping to her mouth on instinct. You’re suddenly back in your car, you and Ellie leaning over the center console to get to each other. Her breath is hitting your face again, and you’re itching for her to kiss you. 

She’s reading your body language the closer she gets, checking in, memorizing every green light you’re giving her. 

“Ellie…” You can’t even hear yourself. Her hand unravels from your arm, frosting your sizzling cheek like snowflakes. Her warmth is engulfing you, and with one last breath, her lips connect with yours. It's short lasting, though. Ellie pulls away, shock plastered on her face. 

She's stuttering and slowly backing away… or something like that. You’re not listening, nor do you want an apology. You grab the drawstring dangling from her gray hoodie and yank her closer, mouth pressing against hers. 

Ellie’s stiffness melts, weightless against you as your mouths mold together. She's sighing, arm wrapping around your waist, warmth simmering between your closed bodies. Your arms wrap around her neck as she inches forward, small steps until you're pressed against the marble. 

The kiss is slow and steady. You both give in to each other, studying, memorizing every inch of her mouth. Gentle smacks sound in the silent space of the kitchen, clammy hands traveling anywhere they can reach: the nape of her neck, massages on your hips, steadying your stumbles as you push against her. Your fingers inch upwards until they're at her sloppily done bun, loosening the hair tie and pulling as gently as you can, soft strands wrapping around your digits like vines. 

Ellie’s humming and her hips push against you, so you pull again, smiling gently into the kiss. She pushes again, harder this time, hips languid as they trap you against the counter. Your thighs widen for her, and she takes the lead, hands digging into your thighs and lifting you onto the granite. 

The kiss turns desperate swiftly after, Ellie’s tongue pushing past your mouth, her hands slowly pulling your tucked shirt from your pants. You’re biting at her lip, caressing her thighs over her sweats, trapping her between your legs, keeping her close. 

One last wet smack and you’re traveling down her jaw to the side of her neck, littering kisses all over her burning skin. You try not to make your inhales too obvious, but you can’t help it. Her scent drives you up a wall. 

She follows your lead, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking the skin, lightly scratching at the skin on your hips. She yanks you closer, nearly sitting you on top of her, ass barely on the counter—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You both jolt like you’ve been caught, a thin line of spit connecting your bottom lips. 

“Expecting someone?” She mumbles dazedly, and you silently deny. “Are you?” 

“Be serious.” She says flatly. 

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! 

The pounds on the door aren’t shit to Ellie, apparently; Her lips are back on you in a second. A gasp surges through you, “Oh, fuck! What if someone saw Pickle and they’re tryna— “

“She’ll be fine,” she whines between suckles on your throat. 

You whimper wantonly, but the knocks get aggressive. It has to be Carol! You don’t want Ellie to stop, but you push her.

“E—Ellie— “

She releases you with an annoyed huff, giving you enough room to hop off the counter. Scratches and meows alert you once more, and you run to the front door, whisper-yelling to Ellie, “Hide Pickle! Hide her!”

“Okay, okay, damn,” She sighs in annoyance, heading back down the hallway. You can hear Ellie’s soft shushes to the kitty, meows swiftly replaced with purrs. You think Pickle has chosen her favorite parent. 

You yank the door open and your heart plummets. 

“Hey, uh… hi.” Abby’s voice cracks and her nose is glowing red. Your heart pulls in your chest at the sight of her soft eyes. 

“Hi, Abby,” You say softly. She shyly peers at her feet. “How are you?”

A soft smile spreads across her face, “I’m not here to talk about me, I wanna apologize. I, um… I wanted to call but I thought I’d do it in person.” 

“No need. I’m sorry, to— “

But Abby isn’t having it, dropping onto one knee in the middle of the complex hallway, taking your hand in hers, “Oh, how I treated Thee, for I am full of regret. What do I owe Thou the pleasure of forgiveness?” 

You holler laughter, “Bitch, is that a question? What the fuck do I say to that.” 

“… I actually don’t know, what the fuck— “

“You’re actually the fucking worst, get up,” You’re pulling your friend to her feet and wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing light kisses to her cheek. She lifts you and carries you inside, kicking the door shut. 

“Was it Carol?” 

You barely hear your roommate from behind you. Abby sets you down, and you’re met with a… blank Ellie. This version of her is almost unfamiliar. 

“Hm?”

“Was,” Her eyes flicker towards your friend, “Was it Carol?” Your eyes flicker to Abby, confused as ever. 

“Um, no, thank God, right?” You laugh awkwardly, “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is Ellie, my new roomie.” 

Abby slaps on her signature smile, extending her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you. I heard a lot.”

Ellie’s eyes flicker between Abby’s hand and her face, eyes squinted. She only nods before murmuring to you, “Pickle’s fed. Lock the door if you leave.” 

Your mouth drops, but before you can say anything, Ellie’s door slams shut, lock clicking, barricading herself, shut off from the outside. Pickle scurries into your open space at the noise. A stunned Abby finally drops her hand and turns to you with an expression reading I told you so. Your heart jolts and it’s painful. 

“C’mon,” Abby coos, hands massaging your shoulders, “I owe you pancakes.” 

You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not like it should at the mention of a free meal. For some reason, you feel guilty. 

IHOP needs to have their holiday menus all year round; These cinnamon roll pancakes are fucking lethal! You shoved your platter down and already want seconds. Abby’s too sweet to you. 

“Abby.” 

“Hm?” She gnaws at her turkey bacon. 

“I’m in a predicament.” 

“What’s the matter.” 

“I think I like Ellie.” 

Your friend pauses before sighing, “Alright. So, what’s the plan?” 

“To die, I think. That’s the only plan.” 

“Don’t say that,” she chuckles. You shrug. 

“We made out and I liked it,” You whisper, “Like, a lot.” 

“Did y’all smash?” You shake your head. 

“Are you gonna tell her?” 

You scoff, “Did you miss the part where I said to die? I’d rather die. She hates my fucking guts all over again.” 

“I don’t think she does.” 

“You don’t know her, Abby— “

“I know a jealous munch when I see one,” She smirks, “I was one for a long time.” 

Your jaw drops, “Really? With who?” 

She grins, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.” 

You pout. Why didn’t she tell you?! Poor thing. You place a comforting hand on top of hers.

“Promise to tell me before graduation. I need some shit to look forward to.” 

“Like you’re gonna remember.” 

“Fuck off! I never forget anything!” 

“Yeah, anyway, your roomie was jealous— “

Your shoulders drop and your eyes roll. Ellie and jealousy? Together? Bullshit. Tomfoolery. Fake news. 

“Abby, I can't tell her— “

“Can’t or won’t?” Abby arches a brow, “You know what you do and don’t want. You’re creating stupid rules that combat your feelings and wonder why you end up hurt. Cut it out.” 

… Either face your fears of abandonment or die alone. Interesting ultimatum. You choose the latter. 

“You’re very easy to read, believe it or not. You like her. Accept it or move on,” Abby mumbles around her extra-crispy hash brown. 

You sigh. You’ve accepted it a long time ago; That's the issue. The only thing that can help you right now is more fucking cinnamon roll pancakes. Abby better leave this apology tab open. 

You’re hit with the usual warmth of the apartment the second you step in, finding Ellie on the couch with her feet kicked up, mindlessly fiddling with your favorite pen. Her silence makes your skin crawl; You never know what she’s thinking. 

“So, what,” You shrug, setting your to-go bag on the counter, “Are you just gonna pout or are we gonna have an adult conversation?” 

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” She mumbles. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means what it sounds like. You’re fucking immature and inconsiderate.” 

Your heart nearly stops, “I’m— “

She slices through your words, “Save that I don’t know what you mean bullshit for someone else. If you and that bitch are still fucking, why the fuck did you kiss me?” 

Her accusation makes you snap, “First of all, I haven’t fucked Abby in weeks! And even if I did, that’s none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and I don’t need to explain myself to you! And you kissed me first so don’t start!” 

A grin grows on Ellie face, head tipping back onto the couch as she laughs to herself, sighing in disbelief, “I never thought I would regret a kiss so much in my fucking life, oh my god.” 

You scoff, ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, “Fuck you.” 

“You want to.” 

You hate how heat builds in your stomach, “I want to?” You snark, “You shoved your tongue in my mouth a few hours ago. You want to. Don’t fucking piss me off.” 

You stomp to your room before Ellie can say anything above her laughter. Your door slams and you pace across your small room. You ignore the stress building deep in your joints; The term is almost over. You don’t need this fucking bullshit on your back right now! 

To think you and Ellie were starting to get on good terms. If she wants to play that game, then fine; You’ve mastered the sport at this point! The kiss meant nothing to you either!

You hope her Christmas is fucking awful and she finds nothing but a pile of fucking rocks in her marijuana sock. What a cunt—

Meow! Meow!

Your heart pulls at the small scratches at your door. You need your baby to give you some love since a certain someone won’t. Pickle calls out until you open the door, but your sad smile disappears at the sight of that someone propped against your door frame. 

“She wanted her mommy.” Ellie nods down at the kitten rubbing against your leg. 

“Fuck you.” You spit. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you!” You shout and lean closer, but she doesn’t seem threatened. That same sparkle in her eye is back, and, suddenly, your body’s flaming for another reason. The tip of her nose twitches, once, twice, three times, and you refuse to hold back any longer. 

You grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her as hard as you can. She’s so fucking aggravating; Why can’t she ever mind her fucking business? You’re sick of her clocking your pussy! The kiss is hot and quick and it sends vibrations down to your toes. It’s not until gentle purring fills your ears that you gasp and separate from your roommate. 

You bend down to pick up your little princess. Ellie’s lips reconnect with your neck the second you're upright. “Did she eat?” You mutter. 

“Mhm. Twice.” You nod and kiss her small, furry head, “She’s gonna be scratching at the door.” You ponder to yourself. 

“We’ll make it quick,” She mumbles in between harsh sucks to your throat, nibbles at your lobe. You escape the attention for a split second to grab Pickle’s small toy mouse from your dresser, tossing it down the hall and into the living room. Her small paws skip across the floor as she slides the trinket all over the hardwood. 

“We’re not fucking.” You say harsher than necessary. 

“I didn’t ask.”

You gently shut the door and jump Ellie’s bones, releasing all your pent-up frustration and anger into another kiss. The formerly gentle tugs of her hair are replaced with harsh yanks that expose her throat. Seconds pass and she’s pushing you onto your unmade bed, body bouncing before she climbs on top of you, reconnecting your mouths in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever shared… It’s doing something to your cooter, though. You’re wet as fuck. 

Ellie’s fully onto top of you, body almost overheating from the layers of clothes between you. Her hips are sharp when they push into yours, swallowing all your stunned gasps and pleasured sighs. Your body is on fire and it’s making you lightheaded, but she feels so good on top. 

Ellie’s cursing against your mouth and she bucks into you, right against the muscle of your thigh, and you just watch the flames spread in her orbs. Not the comforting greenery that you could get lost in for days. The trees are black and surrounded by clustered rubble. She’s grunting against your cheek, her nose hitting yours with every thrust. 

A bold hand creeps between both your bodies and slips right into her wrinkly sweats, beneath her underwear, fingers drenched in seconds. You smirk when she whimpers your name between swears, palming the bud that throbs like a beating heart. Blush tints her cheeks the wetter she gets, pooling in your hand as you grind into her clit. 

Ellie’s cute. You’ll give her that. So, you rub her harder. 

“Agh, fuck, fuck— “

You're snickering to yourself but Ellie doesn’t care. She’s whining like a little bitch and humping you like a dog… 

Does she top? You should ask her after this. Post-nut gay quiz. 

“Finger me, put your— oh shit— “

“Hmm…” You suck your teeth, “Nah.” 

She glares down at you, leaving fiery holes in your cheek, “Don’t f—fucking piss me off right now.” 

You halt all your movements. “That’s all you’ve been doing since you got in this bitch. Shut the fuck up and take what I give you…” You pause, “Or get the fuck off me. Your choice.” 

A full one-eighty, truly. How she goes from looking at you with intent to kill to a wounded puppy in seconds. Poor thing wants a treat. Your entire hand is drenched in her juices; She can wait a little longer. 

“You ate my fucking Doritos.” 

“W—What?” She sounds like she’s going to cry. You can’t stop smiling. 

Slow circles on her clit, and her body wracks on top of you, “The ones I hid in the cabinet… Nasty little thief. Gonna buy me some more?” 

Her breathing is so rapid, “You’re so s—stupid fuck— “ 

“You’re gonna do more than that… gonna show me what’s in that fucking portfolio like you promised.” You whisper, hot against her face. 

This is the strangest dirty talk you’ve ever partaken in, but Ellie’s losing it on top of you. She hasn’t shut up yet. She’s hiding her face in your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You don’t know what she said, so you stop again. She sobs. 

You sound sweeter than candy, “What was that?” 

Ellie doesn’t answer. Just pants into your skin. You pat her clit a few times and she jerks to attention. “I asked you a question.” 

“Feels,” She heaves, “Feels so fucking good— “

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“I’ll show you — fuck, okay? Okay, okay, m’so close— “

Your thumb brushes against her clit, “I wanna see it after you nut.” 

She gasps words miles per minute, “I promise, Ipromise, touch me keep touching me— “

Ellie attempts to grind into your hand once more, but you stretch, slippery fingers sliding lower until the tip of your index catches onto her pulsing hole. You can barely hear, but she’s begging. Thank God you trimmed your nails. 

You push in gently, Ellie’s teeth grazing the skin right underneath your ear. A shiver runs down your spine. She grins before biting down on it. You moan into the boiling air. Your finger gets swallowed by her walls; She’s so fucking tight and soft and she’s clenching with every moan, your thighs squeezing around her hips. 

Ellie continues to grind on top of you, practically riding your finger, her moans increasing in volume. 

“E-Ellie, look at me, sit up—“ She doesn’t hesitate, clammy forehead resting on yours as you stare into her glossy, lustful eyes. They’re fluttering with every deep grind of your arched digit and your heart skips a beat. 

“Gimme one more, stretch me out,” she exhales onto your lips

“Sure?” You breathe. 

She groans, “Yeah, fuck, m’gonna cum when you do— “

“You gotta cute face,” you whisper and giggle when her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, middle finger popping past the small entrance 

“Fuck, babe, s’right there— “

Your walls clench at the name. Now you’re whining, “Gimme it. Hurry up so I can play with my kid.” 

“O-Our fucking kid—“ She chokes. 

You hum playfully, “Oddly domestic. Is this what marriage is like? Quickies in the laundry room when the baby’s watching Cocomelon?” 

“No — fuck, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You can’t even move from hard her walls are choking you, “M’cumming, Jesus fucking— son of a— “

Ellie’s walls grip your fingers as she trembles on top of you, lips crashing onto yours as she groans in your mouth, and you smile. You should’ve spit on her tongue, but you held back. She’s not ready. Fucking gremlin. 

Her orgasm rocks her into exhaustion, her body going completely limp on top of you as her hips twitch into your touch. You stare up at the ceiling, mind racing. 

You technically didn’t fuck! Your pussy is quite convincing. You didn’t, but you want to! 

“We didn’t fuck.” You mumble. 

She huffs dryly, voice low. Here comes the goosebumps! “Sure.” 

“We didn’t,” you bemoan and pull out, slick smearing on both your clothes before you present the wet digits in front of your face. Ellie finally lifts her head to join the inspection of your drenched, wrinkly fingers. She smells good. 

“Go wash your hands,” she croaks. 

“Mind your business.” You suck them clean and she snorts, rolling off and onto the bed. You sit up to open the door for Pick-Pick, but Ellie grabs your bicep. 

“What?” 

“You… You don’t want to…?” 

You look around blankly. 

“Do you want me to do something… like an exchange?” 

You’re not sure how to answer, but thankfully, curious meows and light scratching distract the both of you. You’re moving like a robot into the living room, Ellie right on your tail, cooing at the baby who rubs all over her. 

You take a seat on the… lavender-scented cushion. She bought a new freshener. 

“Ellie.” 

“What.” 

“I don’t like you.” 

A scoff from her, “I don’t care.” 

You pause. “… Wanna sniff my punani?” You mock. 

She takes a seat, swiftly followed by Pickle, and turns her head in your direction, lip between her teeth, “Can I?” 

“What.” 

“Just a whiff.” She hums between snickers. The sensors in your brain are on fire. Ellie is so confusing. 

You scratch your ear, stealing her habit, “You… You want to?” 

She grabs your discarded pen from the coffee table, “You want me to?” 

Yes. “No.” 

Ellie nods and continues to fiddle with it, obnoxiously clicking it over and over. She doesn’t fight you on it. How embarrassing. You really need head. 

Your eyes meet your sock-covered feet, “… I was just kidding,” You mumble. 

More pen clicking. “Come here for a second.” Your feet carry you at her grumble, plopping down onto the lavender-scented cushion. New freshener. 

“Is this gonna be… a regular thing?” 

Your head shakes a ton. It most definitely will not. You can’t take your eyes off how Ellie flips her pen. Her hands are bewitching. You need them in your throat again. 

“I think we… just needed to get it out of our system?” You suggest. Unfortunately, it seems neither of you are convinced. 

Pickle climbs up your sweatshirt, head rubbing against your chin. You peck her nose, “Why do you think that.” Ellie asks. 

“I’m not fucking someone I live with.” Your words are blunt, but Ellie doesn’t seem shaken by them. 

“Why.” 

“Because.” You say with finality. 

She sighs, “Because you’re scared of getting your feelings hurt by someone you care about again?” 

The bomb she drops is unexpected, but causes even more damage. Your shoulders immediately tense, on guard, “What the fuck…” How did she…

Ellie winces, “Don’t uh… don’t be mad…” 

“Why the fuck— how do you even know that?” 

“Dina told me.” She blurts and you jump from your seat, glowering at the girl who sheepishly taps her fingers on the couch. 

“The fuck do you mean Dina told you— “

More word-vomit. How long was she holding this shit from you? “S-She was my roommate. She’s the reason I got evicted— “

Your throat is closing, “…Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie cowers at your tone, “Not really.” 

“When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re friends with my fucking ex?!”

“We’re not friends!” She says meekly. “And you weren’t official— “

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Ellie! What the fuck!” Your efforts of holding tears back fail, as usual. You’re sick of crying in front of this broad. “She fu—fucking ruined my life!” The stares you get will never fail to make you sick. 

Ellie’s eyes remind you of glass. Breakable. You holler through sniffles, “Is that why you called me a fucking slut! Because that bitch told you some fake ass, fucked-up story about me whoring around campus?!” 

“Dude, I’m— “

“I fucked over the sweetest fucking girl on campus, right? The world’s best fucking pitcher got her heart broken by some low-life fucking artist with no future!” You rant until your breath is short, “I was fucking in love with her! I-I wanted to be with her, I would’ve died for her! I’m— “

Your hands desperately grasp at your chest to get your heart to ease the knocking against your ribcage. 

“You think I-I’m fucking easy, right? That’s why you came onto me earlier? ‘Cuz I’m a fucking whore?! A desperate sl—slut with no self-worth— “

The space you found comfort in is rapidly filling with darkness; You’re being sucked into a void of nothing and you can’t think. Ellie doesn’t move, just stares over you with feeble pupils, hand clutched around that pen, the end of it leaving an indent in her sweats. 

Pickle plops down onto your feet as you cry. You take her into your arms and hold her as close as possible, scurrying into your room. You fall back against the door and it slams, sliding down the wood as Kit-Kat nuzzles your chin. She’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world. How could such an angel be left in the snow to die? 

Time moves in a blur as you weep. Your mom would’ve held you if she were here. 

What you would give for some parental guidance. You almost called your father. 

Almost. 

Click, click, click, click, click—

One, two, three, four. Breathe in, Breathe out. Five, six—

Thank God for your fucking custom pen. The noise is enough to distract her from breaking down in your tiny living room. She should’ve snagged Pickle before you did; She needs a fucking hug. 

Ellie hates being yelled at. More than anything. More than you. God, she fucking despises you. 

You look and sound nothing like her mother, but you’re oddly alike. She pondered whether or not that was the reason she was drawn to you; She always finds herself trapped in spaces with fucking deflectors. 

She hasn’t even begun editing the photos from earlier. At this point, she doesn’t even want to use them. It’s a shame your eyes are so expressive; She would’ve burned the pictures she took of you the second you left with that bitch if she wasn’t so crunched for time. She needs to submit them so she can get the fuck out of here. 

You’d be an excellent actress; You have emotions down pact on camera. The dark part of her brain convinced her that you were thinking of her with that doting, yearnful look in your eye. 

The photography company keeps sending her emails about completing her work profile and her fucking portfolio submission. That’s the only form of motivation she has left, and even then, she hasn’t revisited those photos. She doesn’t have much time to make them perfect. 

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat over and over, thumb pressing down, down, down. She can’t stop clicking your fucking pen. Just don’t cry. 

Your sobs almost get her there, almost push her over the edge, but she shuts her eyes and counts each click, matching them with every heave she releases. You, somehow, sound just like her fucking mom. 

And Ellie, despite the backwards relationship between the two of you, still fucking kissed you. She should’ve died right there in front of you. What a fucking joke. 

But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She’s never experienced affection like that; It was passionate and made her itch with a desire she hasn’t felt in a long time. All she wants is for someone to love her, hold her like you did, touch her like you did. She’s never felt that euphoric in her life, never witnessed so many bright colors at once. 

Whoever told her being alone was easy was a fucking liar. No one should wake up and want to die every day, so why does she? Everyone thinks she prefers silence, but she doesn’t. Ellie craves contact in all forms. In any form. Desperately. 

Why did it have to be you? Why the fuck did it have to be you. 

Her brain is telling her she can’t wait to move out, so why is her heart amidst decay whenever she thinks about it? She’s going to suffocate in here, so she rises, pen still in hand, and snags her puffer and beanie from the couch. Her feet shove into her boots and she’s out, the front door slamming shut. She didn’t even bother to lock it. 

Ellie takes the stairs and leaves the building on autopilot, no destination in mind. Just stomping through the splintering cold like a fucking yeti. Every breath oxidizes in a cloud before her as she recalls where she fumbled with you. 

Dina. 

Ellie’s cold hands frost her face as she wipes it, making sharp turns and stumbling on ice. She wants to go home; She misses her dad. 

Dina seems to be the only thing you two have in common. You both might hate her more than each other. The horror she felt when her ex-roommate taped that eviction notice on her door is incomparable. Ellie was a struggling entrepreneur and practically fucking homeless overnight. All because Dina’s new fucking side piece. 

Ellie and Dina, friends. Wait until she tells you about how she almost beat her and her girlfriend’s ass. If you’re even willing to listen at this point. 

Ellie continues to walk, hands tucked under her armpits. At least she’s not simmering anymore in her rage anymore. She blocks down the way when she realizes she forgot her fucking phone. This would’ve been a perfect time to cry to her old man. 

You’re not out of Ellie’s system at all. You’ve, unfortunately, claimed residency inside of her. 

You’re scribbling with spilled wine on your shirt, outside noise muffled by the plugs in your ears. You don't recall leaving your room, grabbing a bottle and downing its contents, but the remnants of broken glass acts as a decent reminder. 

Your hand is cramping from its grip on a new pen, but you can’t stop gliding the tip across the sixth sheet of printer paper. You hate what you’re drawing; The details are perfect, inked scratches practically muscle memory, and you despise it. It’s always her.

You’re going to be alone for a very long time. You’re too destructive for companionship, you’ve learned. How ironic: the one aspect of life you crave is becoming your demise, and your downfall is going to be tortuous. Recovery is never long lasting for you. 

So, you sketch. And scratch. And erase, start again, hoping, praying, for an outcome that doesn’t feel so lost. You’re destroyed and desperate to find comfort. Was your father right when he called you sick at age twelve? Maybe something is truly wrong with you. Maybe one of the reasons why you constantly push and mask and hide. 

Every insecurity you’ve garnered in high school is flourishing in adulthood, thick as vines and as strong as tree bark. Deflection is an art that you’ve mastered out of preservation; Too bad it’s trapped you in isolation. 

The green in Ellie’s eyes holds stories. Somehow, this month feels like centuries. Centuries of studying the mass area of blossoming, healthy land beneath her pupils. Her eyes are sacred, almost too sacred to manipulate, but you draw them anyway. 

You want to touch her again. You want her to touch you. Just one last time. You’re already a fucking failure; One last mistake wouldn’t hurt. 

A teardrop musses the paper, so you scrap it like the others and start again. Ellie’s eyes are too pretty to be smudged. 

You can’t stay here anymore. You hope Amaya understands. You hope Ellie understands. 

You’d give anything to be able to call your mother. 

You hear the front door open and close for the hundredth time tonight, followed by swift clicks of a pen. Guilt floods your system. You peer at a sleeping Pickle on your mattress before standing, opening your door to see Ellie entering hers. Your intoxicated brain notes the sex lighting in her room; Red LED. You talk before thinking. 

“I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She jumps and turns at your cracked voice, eyes red. She smoked; you can smell it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— “

“I’m submitting my portfolio in the morning. I’ll be out by Christmas.” She says, monotone. Lifeless. 

A dry huff escapes your closed throat. Your heart is breaking. Just a little, “I guess, uh… I can’t see it anymore, huh?” She doesn’t answer. 

“Do you regret taking those pictures?” She mumbles.

You don't hesitate, “Not at all.”

She nods. The silence that follows is thick, weighing at both of your shoulders, holding you in place. Ellie’s breathing is finally steady, and it’s calming. 

“Go to bed.” She whispers before entering her room, gently shutting it behind her. Some tears fall before you follow her lead. 

Pickle is sitting on the edge of your bed, just watching you. You smile sadly and whisper, “At least you love me, right?” 

A gentle blink from her. You sob; Another pair of green eyes to bring you comfort. 

“I love you, too.” 

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[cy-cyborg]

The Jaws Effect and what it means for media representation

The Jaws Effect is the name of a phenomenon that described the panic and fear that sprang up around sharks, fuelled by Steven Spielberg's movie, Jaws. While the fear of sharks and other marine predators had always been a thing, Jaws launched the fear of sharks, and Great White Sharks in particular, to new (and mostly unfounded) heights. Most people will never encounter a real-life shark and so their only knowledge about the creatures come from movies and other forms of entertainment. Entertainment that largely portrayed them as mindless, unfeeling killing machines. After Jaws, sharks became a staple in the creature-feature genre of movies, which only perpetuated the idea of sharks as dangerous monsters even further, reigniting and reconfirming the beliefs the public held about them in the process. These ideas about sharks are, of course, not true, but the misconception and fear has had a real, observable impacts on shark populations, shark conservation efforts and even laws and legislations surrounding sharks and shark conservation around the world.

Ok but Cy, this is a blog about disability and disabled representation, what do sharks have to do with anything you talk about? Well, Because The Jaws Effect is just one of many examples that shows how massive of an impact representation in the media can have, for better or for worse, especially when talking about subjects the public generally knows very little about.

This conversation is not unique to disability representation, nearly every person I've seen who's talked about how to write and design characters from any minority brings it up eventually, but the media we consume, the movies we watch, the books we read can all have big impacts on people's perceptions on those topics. When talking about disability specifically, it's an unfortunate reality that not many people know all that much about us, and so, much like sharks, for many, their only real exposure to disabled people is through the media they consume.

If you don't know anyone in a wheelchair, and your only knowledge of life as a wheelchair user comes from books and movies like Me Before You, of course you're going to (spoiler) come away thinking that life in a wheelchair is horrible and death is better than living like that. If you don't know any DID Systems and your only exposure to a condition like that is through movies like Split (and honestly, a number of other horror movies and crime shows) of course you'll think people with DID are unstable monsters who could become violent any moment. If your only exposure to autistic people is Music, then it's not shocking that you might think Autistic people are "trapped in their own minds," completely unaware of the world around them and lacking any kind of agency. As much as I'd like to be able to say these are "just movies" or "just books," and that if we don't like them, we can just not watch them, they all had an impact on the real world and real people's perceptions of the disabilities they depicted, as do the many, many smaller examples of bad representation.

This is why I personally spend so much time focused on the portrayal of disability in the media, why so much of my content is focused on creating resources for creators to represent us better, and why I think writers, artists and other types of creators should care about the representation they include.

Unfortunately, people believing misinformation and stereotypes, while annoying, isn't the worst of the impacts bad rep can have. If a stereotype is prevalent enough, and enough people believe it, it can both put us in harms way and cause us to loose access to things we desperately need and things designed to help us. One really common example of this is when movies and TV shows show a character getting up out of their wheelchair, and use this as proof that the person is faking being disabled. However, in reality, there are many disabilities that might mean someone has to use a wheelchair, even if they can still walk a little bit or stand up. The stereotype of someone standing up from their chair being a fake, especially when it's reinforced over and over again in the media, leads non-disabled people to believe that anyone who stands up from their wheelchair is faking, and results in a lot of real disabled people being harassed and denied things like access to disabled parking, toilets and other accessible spaces. There were even a few cases of people reporting those they see get out of their wheelchairs to Centrelink (The Australian "welfare" department, for those not familiar) as frauds, and while these investigations don't usually go far before someone realises what's happened, it has, on occasion, resulted in people loosing the income they depend on to survive, even temporarily.

But the impact of representation, of course, can go both ways.

I was in high school when the first How To Train Your Dragon movie came out, and at the time, I didn't really like people being able to see that I was a leg amputee because I was sick of kids in particular staring, pointing at me, asking their parents "what's wrong with them?" or asking me directly, "what's wrong with your legs?". I wore long skirts and big, bulky tracksuit pants to keep my legs covered, something that became dangerous in the hot Australian summer, but I didn't care.

But the impact of How to Train Your Dragon came in two ways. The first, was that it was one of the first times I'd seen an amputee (or rather, multiple amputees) who didn't keep their prosthetics covered or hidden, and it gave me the little boost in confidence I needed to do that myself and wear clothing that was more comfortable and functional. And second, the comments from children changed, albeit slightly, but enough that it was noticeable. The questions and comments went from "what's wrong with you?" to "oh cool, your legs are like Hiccup's!" I even had one little girl ask me once if I had a pet night fury. They went from being scared of me and my legs, or at the very least concerned for me, to genuinely curious and impressed. While reactions like that did become less and less common over time, they didn't fully go away either. Even today, I occasionally get young kids asking me why I have legs like hiccup. A friend of mine who was born with one arm shorter than the other and without fingers on that side had a similar experience with the movie Finding Nemo. Her disability was a bit more complex than what I described here, and she always found it hard to explain "what happened" to small children, however, after Finding Nemo came out, she was able to simply tell kids "this is my lucky fin, like what nemo has!" and that was enough to take her from someone "scary" to these kids to someone like their favourite characters.

Of course, it's much easier to see the impact positive representation can have on people's perceptions when we're talking about kids media, but it's not exclusive to it either.

When it comes to a minority like the disabled community who are so thoroughly misunderstood by the wider public, misinformation can and does spread easily. What people see and read in the media they consume plays a big roll in how people perceive the real people attached to the stereotypes. We often hear people say "Fiction imitates life" but the reverse can and often is also true, life can imitate and be influenced by fiction, and those of us creating should be mindful of this, especially when we're talking about a group of vulnerable people.

[Thumbnail ID: An illustration of a Great White Shark swimming near the rocky bottom of the ocean, surrounded by silver fish. In the bottom left corner of the image is "The Jaws Effect and what it means for media representation" in big, white bubble text. /End ID]