#ableism! and some internalized ableism

[uncanny-tranny]

The leftism/anticapitalism leaving people's bodies the zeptosecond you imply that disabled people who aren't "productive" still matter in society and need to be treated like intrinsic equals who have a place in this world:

#disability #disability advocacy #described images #image description in alt #ableism #ableism tw #my full-time job is my disability and you're lucky that i am still 'productive' as-is #your boss doesn't care that you think you're superior for being hired by them. they're still going to treat you like profit machines #it astounds me how people will capitulate for oppression because they place their intrinsic value in their ability to be at the top... #...or at least 'at the top' compared to others. it's the same impulse that makes people think their cisgender status makes them superior... #...you are placing your worth into systems which not only oppress others but offer you no true sense of worth... #...ESPECIALLY if you're also being exploited (even if just a bit)... #...you have a job sure but... do you actually get treated like a human being? are you actually paid? are you actually safe?... #...if the answer to any of those questions and more is 'no' then why do you place your value in capitalistic production. genuinely. #and why would you DEMAND disabled people to have the same exploitation you experience. why do you DEMAND productivity if you are proletaria #yes being a leftist and anticapitalist are linked but. some people still internalize capitalism without questioning it #being a leftist is about challenging that rather than assuming you're correct i think #also scientists were very silly when describing time that's like. less than a millisecond i think

[itstheelvenjedi]

4/27/23 EDIT TO ADD: I'm disabling reblogs on this part of the post as per the advice of someone in the tags to prevent it from going around and getting out of hand but obligatory disclaimer that this is NOT an accurate post to my current state of mind. In absolute simplest terms: I'm both physically disabled and ND, and the past 2 years have been a very shitty time for me with a lot of trauma and ableism etc. etc. BUT which ultimately helped me to grow into a more emotionally mature person who absolutely would not have said these things. It's not an excuse but it is context, and if I had known (didn't remember I queue'd this and the first I knew it existed was when I woke up and checked this tumblr for the first time in almost 3 weeks and I had almost 100 notes on a single post LMAO) it was there, I would have deleted it before it got posted. I've made another post in a reblog chain >HERE< that goes into this but this is like a TL;DR if you will. You can also find a stand-alone post with the copy-paste of the ammendment >HERE< or in my pinned post (I'll leave it here for a while and take it down later once this blows over)

EDIT #2: currently trying to figure out how to disable replies but can't seem to so I'm putting this at the TOP of the damned post instead because there's still a handful of people that think it's appropriate to make nasty comments without actually READING the ammendment, I'm sorry if I sound cranky it's been a long day, I am v tired & running out of ways to say the word "sorry" lol

The thing that gets me about the "oh wanting a cure for the incurable disability that ruins my life is not ableism ACSHUALLY!!!" crowd is

Yes babes, yes it is. That's a lil nugget called ✨internalised ableism✨ and ya know something? ITS STILL ABLEISM

You can put a pretty red bow with polka dots and frills on a pig as much as you like but it's STILL A FUCKING PIG and NOTHING You do will change that

But most of yall aren't ready for that conversation ig.

It's hard. It's a very hard thing to confront, realise and accept but it IS. and ableists EVERYWHERE will use that as a pro-eugenics gotcha. You're not just hurting yourself you're hurting other disabled people too.

ABLE BODIED PEOPLE DO NOT ADD ANYTHING TO THIS POST. YOU ARE NOT DISABLED AND YOU ARE NOT QUALIFIED TO TALK ABOUT WHAT IS OR IS NOT DIFFICULT FOR DISABLED PEOPLE. Able bodied ND people may add stuff if you want but be aware if you try to derail physically disabled additions w/ "buh muh ND ish awso a disabiwity" I will straight up block you. Yall ALWAYS do that and I am tired of it. Just don't be an asshole about your additons if you're going to make any or stay quiet too.

#the queue is strong with this one #elven rants #actually disabled #tw: ableism #tw: internalized ableism #ya know what im tired of being quiet about this #it needs to be fucking said #and realising this on my own journey was a huge hurdle for me to get over so trust #*me i KNOW. and i KNOW some of u are gonna read what ive said here and immediately get mad #but take a step back for a second...and ask yourself WHY youre mad

[adhdandcomics]

adding to my tags because i’ve been thinkin a lot about the post i just reblogged and have more thoughts:

i’ll be real, the more i saw ‘hey adhd influencers are so annoying’ the more i worried that i was unconsciously contributing to the spreading reputation of adhd folks as annoying and over-pathologizing every symptom they experience

and then i realized. i am not a goddam influencer or life coach or representative. obviously i have some obligation as someone who cares about myself and the people that like my comics to not spread harmful ideology or blatant misinformation but i never intended myself to be a “’increase your productivity!!’ blog OR a ‘if you have XYZ you have adhd!’ blog. and i do this for fun, and originally started this blog bc i had a lot of internalized shame and self loathing about my adhd and thought if i could make it funny i might have less of that. let’s get real! and it worked!

i’ve obviously done this kind of thing— (hey these symptoms might be adhd!) a lot before in my life & on this blog, but there’s more to it than trying to be an “influencer” or whatever. a term that didn’t even exist when i started this blog!

i felt very isolated trying to find out if i had any mental problems & what have you originally because of large advice (etc) blogs with staunchly anti self Dx views at the time

so i overcorrected when i DID get dxed and tried to validate everyone who was like me. and of course. not the best course of action always for the ol mental health. tried to be the source of positivity and jokes that i didn’t see because the online adhd presence was near non-existent.

and anyway. i make a lot of fun of myself & the way m brain works in my comics obviously but it is not my obligation to... how do you say.... not be annoying online.

because if folks interpret MY little jokes as a strict guide to diagnosis. that’s on them, really, not me. i also believe “making adhd your entire personality” is a non-issue. so what if people find out they have it and get over excited with identifying as adhd. saying this as someone who DID do it. criticism of this gives the same vibes as people being annoyed that young queers make “being queer” their whole personality. im very obviously more than a guy with adhd, and id reckon other adhd comic artists are too. (im friends with a lot of them!) it’s fine to post about it online.

anyway. i just don’t take myself too seriously and i’m a comic artist for myself first! and you know what, i’ve been considered annoying my entire life. what do i care if a few more folks think i’m annoying. neurotypical or not

#i think the article did have some good points especially on the capitalism and marketing angle but i oft think it did venture into #being mad at individual folks who post jokes about adhd. which is literally fine thats what an opinion piece is for lol #i am just very tired of people pretending that a lot of reaction to online adhders is not in itself just an extension of the ableism #we already were facing #'adhd people are so annoying everyone does this youre pathologizing everything' ok and how exactly are you helping. #i hesitate to throw my hat in with hating on adhd tiktok because i am simply not on tiktok and have no way to back up my thoughts #that they may be annoying and oversimplifying a complex disorder on the 'drains your attention span' website. #and i think perhaps the value of each adhd resource varies widely depending on who made it and what theyre even posting. #sometimes its a joke made by a person with adhd. sometimes its sourced and cited research. sometimes its someone discussing their personal #experiences in depth. sometimes its someone talking completely out of their ass. sometimes its THINLY veiled ableism. #its up to the individual to research and determine the value of the memes and resources you seek #anyway. perhaps these points are tough to clarify on sites like insta and twitter. bless. #text #adhd #im punk now #oh and yeah i also agree lots of folks do not talk about the unsavory parts of adhd but rather the funnies and the sillies. but that is #once again a larger capitalism and marketing and ableism problem #r we not talking about them because we are actively trying to infantalize this disorder or is it because we collectively experience a lot #of internalized ableism and hesitate to talk about our worst symptoms for fear of the backlash #weve always gotten about them 🤔🤔🤔 #much to consider #if youve read this far sorry for tangent number 56 about this. but also start being more unapologetic about your disorders. fuck it! #<3

[ghostie000]

i swear on my life that i am not implying that autism stereotypes are better to deal with, but when i was diagnosed with autism everyone was like “ohhh cute baby ANGEL!! cute sweet darling special BABY!!” and now that i have bpd everyone’s like “bad!! evil shameful DEMON!! scary creepy SERIAL KILLER, the DEVIL!!!”

#like people translated autism to infant when i was dxed with it and treated me like a child #and sometimes i just let them bc it was easier #now that i have bpd all of my idiosyncrasies are no longer attributed to specialness they're more considered signs of some underlying evil #and to be fair i've internalized this way of analyzing things to some degree so some of it is coming from me #but i definitely notice the difference #now i'm at least taken seriously i guess that's a plus #bpd thoughts #bpd problems #tw: stigma #tw: stereotypes #mental health stigma #ableism #cw: discourse

[chthonic-cassandra]

Taking a sick day, curious to see whether the baseless anxiety about how this truly reveals my fundamental inability to do my job will calm down at any point.

#something like a third of my organization is out sick this week #but if it's me it feels that it must be revealing some awful thing about me #that's the internalized ableism talking! #personal

[searchingforserendipity25]

Just to be a little mean, how about Gwindor/Finduilas with #34 for the Ship and a Number game?

Thank you for the prompt @eilinelsghost! This was a tricky one to pin down, but here it is, and I suspect it is also a little mean.

To Pretend

Gwindor's fingertips brushed near the flowers of a carrot, not quite touching; Finduilas saw that they shook with fine tremors, the strain upon his nerves making him ever unsteady. 

“I had forgotten,” he whispered. “How great your work is, lady. Or perhaps I never did know it, as I ought to.” 

“I am certain you did,” Finduilas said confidently. That much she had never doubted, for all of Gwindor's flattery had been sincere, and in that laid its charm.

But Gwindor did doubt - his mind, as well as his body, had been wounded in the horror of defeat, and captivity, and thralldom. “You it was who often came and sat by me as I sang the seedlings into growth, and brought me many seeds when your duties with the guard took you outside the city.”

Gwindor sketched something like a smile. “That I do recall. Felagund teased so when I made friendship with the growing herbs so they might gift me some seeds to bring you.”

How strong his voice had been, once! Finduilas had warmed through and through, curled her toes in her slippers when she heard him across a wide room. 

He spoke without passion. And of Finrod he spoke without effort, or even grief, though they had been friends, once, and rode often together. Grief was a privilege of the free, and Gwindor did not trust Nargorthrond, or Finduilas, or much of anything.

Finduilas could see it was a bravery even to share the name of the dead, to him; she knew it. If only that courage were enough! Her heart was moved, but not towards love renewed.

He was so changed. Finduilas' laughing champion had grown grim in captivity, and the shadow through which he saw the world did not relent, though his mattress was soft and his plates were full, the halls filled with the song and voices of his kin. If it were but the injuries - 

Finduilas felt herself to be selfish merely to think it. What kind of faithless wretch would she have to be, that her heart and ardour should wither coldly in her chest? Her betrothed was returned from horror. She ought to hold him constantly - to be wed already in the joy of relief, to be a tender bride. 

But Gwindor was changed. He walked through the rows of her saplings, his face shadowed still with great weariness, though the green nursery was well-lit by many and well-made lanterns, to coax life from the many rows of water-fed plants.

Among the watercress and spinach, the tall shelves where clever engines fed and watered the loving pantry of the city, Gwindor's gaunt cheeks were no less smudged with weariness, but at least he reached out, sometimes, and touched a damp leaf.

He looked at the plenty of Nargothrond with a foreigner's eyes. Finduilas did not wish to feel it as a betrayal in her heart.

It might have been easier, perhaps, if he spoke resentfully of the dark and boiling air of the thralls where many who had walked these carved walls crawled now.

Or perhaps it would have been worse - certainly it would be cruel to speak of it when he did not. Finduilas did not know. How strange, not to know what to say to him, her dear quick-speaking friend!

It felt like a cruelty even to stand so near, when Gwindor was stiff with the terror and discomfort of proximity, and ashamed of his own fear - but he had offered his good arm to her, and for an instant it had been the easiest thing in the world to slip her own through his, the most familiar comfort.

And then she had seen the white of his cheeks, felt the tautness of his shoulders. But it might harm all the more to step back, and neither of them, in the end, wished to harm the other.

So it was, the first time they met again by the great stairs for a walk, after Gwindor’s - return. And the day that followed, and the one afterwards. As had been their habit - as if the their warm companionship were a thing that could be picked up, a love to be raised up like an artist’s work, set aside for a moment and picked up again in time. 

Finduilas had thought it might be so; had longed to hold the arm that cringed form her now. Gwindor was grown fearful of intimacy, but even more so of great gatherings, of anything like too much nearness; the closest to pleasure Finduilas had seen in him since his return was in the green nursery.

Finduilas had the duty of the cave-gardens and the green nurseries, the long galleries where the grasses and vegetables and flowers and fruits of Nargothrond grew in many high shelves, down many wide corridors. Felagund had trained her for it; there were times now when she wondered at what manner of premonition might have lead him to it. 

But in truth Finduilas after Tol Sirion had been restless and imperious, eager to make her own place and have her own will, though she knew not where it might be and what exactly her heart willed. She had been covetous of every parcel of knowledge all through apprenticeship with the singers of the city, followed the gardeners of the city in their singing rounds through the green nursery before she was strictly allowed to be there. 

How many times they had spent there, in their courting days! The lanterns of Finduilas' domain were wrought to compel growth and vigour, and in their gentle light they had laughed their way through courtship, kissed for sweet eternities, overfull of delight in each other.

She would take his arm, smile down at him from her tall height, show him her seedlings, the new crop rotations, speak of - O, everything. Their friends, their people, the year’s harvests and the upcoming recitals. Their dead, and their memories of the dead. It had been such a balm to Finduilas, Gwindor’s slow and careful attention as she spoke of Tol Sirion; such a gift, to receive his stories of Lord Aegnor and Dorthonion in return. 

They had wept, together, on occasion - laughed together far more often, at things that seemed impossible to smile at by one’s self, as seen through the mist of grief.

They spoke very little now. Gwindor had nothing joyful to say, and enough heart not to darken her with his thoughts. Finduilas' thoughts were dark enough on their own; she slept ill, these days, and rarely for long. 

At the end of the circuit he bent, as ever he had, and kissed her hands chastely. That much he remembered well - bitter, bitter chance, that Finduilas wished he did not, and did not raise up the illusion of the past in kindness!

Gwindor hesitated afterwards, for a moment. Finduilas almost dreaded it. With every daily farewell she felt the distance between them grow, an inevitable winter with no thaw; and though she trapped the despair inside her rib-cage, and let none of it show in her face, still it grew keener with every repeated meeting.

The stranger whom she had loved looked at her. For a moment she thought to hope he would say "Lady, I release you. There is another whom you love, yet that is not why you love me not as once you did."

She wished not to wish it. But neither did could she linger so, on and on, walk upon walk through the false greenery, pretending at liberty, and love, willing herself not to feel as bitterly alone and bereft as she had been when she wept in hiding between the fruit-bearing trees for her lost betrothed.

Finduilas took her hands away. Once, she would have lingered, would have stepped nearer, and bent down to kiss Gwindor's scarred, gentle mouth. As she had, yesterday, and the day before, since they had sought each other out to start once more the habit of love.

He never did not flinch from her, bound tight to the same pretense, and that was always worse.

Finduilas could not bear to feel his dutiful stillness once more; she was not so kind, nor so capable at guile. She, too, had her own kind of small courage - enough to step back, for once, for the last time.

His eyes were weary upon her face, more weary than sorrowful, and not for a lack of sorrow.

We will never try this again, she thought, and a chill swept through her all the way through her. That was their farewell; and nothing else needed to be said between them.

"O, let us go away," Finduilas said instead. She touched her own cheek, but she knew she was not weeping. "Let us leave the sapling to their slow business, and the flowers to their beauty, and make for somewhere less damp. There is nothing new of much worth to show you here; and we would do better to rejoin the rest, or find ourselves a quiet respite."

"It would be sweet," Gwindor said quietly; but not as if he accounted the sweetness for himself. 

They did not touch as they went; not even the swishing skirts of their robes, not even the corner of a careless elbow. 

#finduilas #gwindor #finduilas/gwindor #the silmarillion #silm fic #my fic #angst #thank you! #tw: trauma; grief; some internalized ableism

[peach-scented-chupacabra]

Some of y’all are tagging my post about legs and chronic pain with “internalized ableism” and need to fucking stop.  Fantasizing about getting rid of the part of your body that’s painful and becoming a fairy-tale creature is not being ableist to yourself.  Wanting to not be in pain is not being ableist to yourself.  Telling someone “if you’re in so much pain then just cut off your legs” is being ableist.  The difference here is about malice vs coping.  

Example : a trans man fantasizing about transitioning and becoming a merman is not internalized transphobia.  It’s fantasizing about having a fairy-tale life while being who they want to be.

If you’re reading internalized ableism from my comic about wanting to not be in pain, thinking about becoming a fairy tale creature, and accepting the reality that I’m going to keep my legs the way they are, then you have a fucking problem.

#don't interact if you're not physically disabled #I will not debate any of you about this #ableism #internalized ableism #some of you are reaching #disabled #physical disability #disabled artist

[neverendingford]

along the same line as the whole "why do you need to know someone's autistic before you stop bullying them for their autistic traits?" thing I've seen floating around

apologizing for it once you know is meaningless. it doesn't change the fact that you deliberately mocked someone for their behavior.

.

a customer mocked my stutter and I've lost all patience with that so I looked him in the eyes and said "I have a speech disability" and he immediately got all apologetic and was like "I wasn't making fun of you". Bro yes you were. you didn't realize you were making fun of a disability I've spent my entire life struggling with, but you were nonetheless.

just because you don't know you're being an asshole doesn't mean you're not being an asshole. you can apologize but I'm not going to forgive you.

#text post #stuttering #disability #ableism #color says shit #it's nice that my stutter mostly disappears when I'm angry because it lets me immediately put on my stony and guarded demeanor effortlessly. #anyway. most customers are at least condescending to me when I have trouble speaking. not outright rude #I've had a few customers that do genuinely mock me and then I just walk away from them and call a manager. #but like... apologizing when you've chosen to engage in asshole behavior doesn't change the fact that you've engaged in that behavior. #I'm not going to go “oh it's alright 😁” because you've realized that I don't think you're at all funny for that. #I'm done taking shit from anybody. treat me with respect or fuck off. #it's not my fucking fault I can't get a sentence out some days. #I don't care if it was done in ignorance you're an adult you don't get to be cruel like that. #like. haha yeah I know it's so funny when I start making noises and breathing funny but I'm not a spectacle for you to laugh at. #I'm not some side show. I'm not some curiosity. I'm not a roadside attraction to laugh at. #sometimes I forget I have such a hugely internalized reaction to being objectified in this very specific way #and then it happens and I want to leave a fist shaped dent in my locker. #I care too much about my hands to fuck them up again so I'll just vent on tumblr dot com instead

[perenlop]

so funny when i bitch about my brother doing something genuinely horrible and the nt people around are all like “what the fuck…….. how could you get mad at this autistic man………. what if he cant help all the misogyny, did you ever think of that……….. how could you, you must resent him for his autism, i hope you get better soon” and then the actual autistic people around me are like “wow hope that guy dies”

#no joke apparently my dad thinks i have deeply internalized ableism and im in rage that i had to grow up with autistic family #and thats why i hate my brother. when like…. first of all i get along with my other autistic brother just fine. because he’s chill #second of all i got undiagnosed autism but he doesnt know that so. third of all i’ve reiterated time and time again its bc of how he treated #how he treated me growing up as well as what hes done to other people (women) #and in fact i try to be as fair as i can given the circumstances bc i know social awkwardness absolutely intersects with his nastiness somet #sometimes #and i do sympathize with him to an extent for all the ableist treatment he got as a diagnosed kid #like. i dont envy him he truly went through some god awful shit as a kid #but also like…….. he proudly fucked me over time and time again and reiterates that hes proud of that #this guy threw around his power over me pretty frequently and took whatever chance he had to throw me under the bus and belittle me #forgive me for saying but…. i dont think thats an autism thing! i think thats a ‘’shitty human being’’ thing! #dl

[simptasia]

i feel like saying something nice about jack shephard

i like how at no point is he weird about charlie's drug issues, hurley being fat or like, anybody's race. jack doesn't really have prejudice

#i've been taking notice and yeah. he's said like two sexist comments in the whole show but they were pretty toothless #jack and sawyer are contrasts you see #also don't ''low bar'' me - i don't care what you say: these are laudable qualities #so many people are weird about charlie being a heroin addict but jack never is. he just helps as much as he can #thats really nice. espech because - sad as it is - this attitude is Not common in doctors #he never treats anybody differently for their race #not in a bad way or a neutral way or a good way #he's not weird about hurley's weight either. but i will add that most of the characters aren't weird about that #with that it's really only sawyer and charlie who comment on it #but i just thought i'd mention it #i do think jack has some ableism in him. at least a little bit. instilled by his upbringing/being a doctor #a mixture of thinking lesser of mentally ill/ND people (this shows with locke) and internalized ableism #because remember i think jack is autistic

[pet-shop-of-horror-fan]

"I love disabled people but disabled people are burdens. Maybe they should just not exist? Wait, why are you calling me a eugenicist? I'm disabled. Questioning my beliefs makes you the bigot, not me."

#disabled #ableism #eugenics #internalized oppression #vent #okay to reblog #anyway i unfollowed some asshole #did not even get into the strawmanning #i still feel sick because of that vile little fucker

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Ooh 4 and 10, a forced return and kisses??? Angst central 🥳🥳

I enjoy some angst, especially in bite-sized chunks. @kerfuffle-puffin also asked for 4, so we'll start with that one.

___

4 Kisses where it hurts

Maura’s thoughts are so disorganized that it chokes her. She is used to order, used to the gestalt cognition her autism had previously blessed her with, that her brain injury has taken away. She’s never gotten a diagnosis for the former, no need with her expertise, and the latter had been obvious as soon as her head hit the bar of The Dirty Robber those weeks prior. 

Her brain had been so… so good before. So beautiful.

Now, she pulls up BCU’s medical dictionary of health terms just so, you know, she can double check that her pathology reports say what she wants them to. She consults the lowly thesaurus.com so that she can confirm her previously plentiful bank of synonyms without sounding repetitive. 

She never sounded repetitive. Oversharing? Sure. Unnecessary reiteration? A lot. But sounding repetitive? Never. Not since she used to repeat things as a little girl just because she liked the way they sounded, how the cadence and the prosody lilted out of her tiny mouth and changed the airwaves around her. Constance had rid her of that, and quickly.

What… what would Mother say now? Now that Maura stares at a computer screen unable to remember the thought she’d started just a few seconds ago. Her fingers had been sure, they’d begun the sentence so quickly, and now she can’t decide if she wanted to talk about the bullet deep to the victim’s left lung or the deep vein thrombosis that would have killed him hours after the bullet entered his chest anyway.

Either way, her head wants to hang and she wants to cry. 

“Hey,” a voice she’d never forget even with the most devastating of traumatic brain injuries, all but whispers, dragging her out of her head.

When had Jane stopped in the doorway? Before the concussion and the inflammation and the chiari malformation diagnosis, Maura would have spotted Jane’s march from the elevator to the threshold.

Jane doesn’t give her much time to contemplate though, because as soon as Maura looks up and as soon as Jane sees that Maura’s been weepy, she goes over to Maura’s desk.

She takes Maura’s head in her hands, cradling the thing that has given Maura’s life so much meaning and, recently, so much consternation. Jane looks down, Maura looks up, and then Jane places her lips right in the center of Maura’s forehead. Three kisses. “Looked a little sad,” Jane reasons when she pulls away and Maura’s confusion registers across her face. “Thought I might know what was botherin’ ya. Wanna run through this thing together? I’m a good spell check.”

10 forced reunion

Maura’s heels clap through Boston Regional’s polished halls, and even though it’s not the ICU, her heart hammers just the same. She weaves through residents, nurses, and doctors as rooms blur by her. Gómez, O’Rourke, Mwangi, Jackson… Rizzoli.

She’s made it. From Korsak’s breathless call to her desk phone, to the hurried change out of scrubs and into the outfit she wears now, from the agonizing ascent of the elevator to the driver’s side of her car, she’s thundered across the city to Room 308. 

Jane is not supposed to be here.

Jane glowers at the edge of the hospital bed, arm in a sling and face scraped, because she is not supposed to be here. 

She is supposed to be deep in the webbing of an extortionist group that had already killed three people. She is supposed to be undercover, with no contact, for the remainder of the week at least. But, on this Monday, she is attempting to leave against medical advice. She was made and she was hustled out of the job gone wrong and she is mad.

Maura pauses in the doorway. Jane’s hair is more wild than usual and someone had been holding ice up to her eye because the gash over it is angry burgundy, but not swollen. It’s still weeping. Its first opening, probably at the hands of a large knife, had stained the front of her shirt. There’s still blood on her neck. It’ll scar, even if someone had bothered to suture it. Maura looks over to the side of the bed, the suture tray still there, with instruments dropped in a hurried mess on it, and realizes someone probably had bothered and been chased away for their trouble. 

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Maura chances, dropping her purse on the chair just to the right of the door. For all her bluster outside, she radiates calm now, like she knows no other way to be. 

“Oh fuck off,” Jane groans. Maura had expected as much. She doesn’t even flinch. In all their years in each other’s orbit, she’s finally learned that this means to come closer.

Most of the time.

“Is that what you told the physician?” Maura purrs with a little bit of teasing. She purses her lips, but one corner goes up and her eyes dance. 

Jane scoffs and turns away. “I’m goin’ home,” she says.

Presumably to lick the proverbial wounds, Maura surmises. She can’t reach that large one with her tongue. “Not before you let me close that. Here. In a hospital. With antiseptic.”

The doctor had even been kind enough to leave his stool, the padded one with the wheels so common to hospitals, and Maura brings it over, along with the tray. She goes to the wall, pulls a few nitrile gloves from the station next to the charting board, and then takes her seat. 

“I’d rather not,” Jane finally grumbles.

“I don’t care,” Maura tells her. “I care that you’re safe, and mostly intact. I care that your job spared your life - again. Though I know at any moment it could tear it away,” The frenetic heartbeat of the hallway returns, and this time her voice shakes. She won’t cry, though.

“This isn’t how I wanted to see you again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to come back a winner,” Jane argues. Maura hears her voice shake, too, but not with tears. She holds the collection tray up, looks Jane in the eye, then nods to it.

Jane knows what to do. She spits the amalgam of phlegm and blood into it. Maura doesn’t flinch, doesn’t grimace, doesn’t gag. She just puts it down and hands Jane some gauze. “That is irrational of you,” she says to Jane. When Jane glares, she smiles. “It is. You have the best closing rate in the state. You are always a winner and one case isn’t going to alter that. You are mad because you are obsessive and you are filled with such… oh. Such vengeance. Try to stay still. I’m going to flush the wound,” Maura pauses her speech to squeeze the cold saline solution into Jane’s wound. 

“Agh fuck,” Jane snarls, but to her credit, she stays put. 

“You’re mad because you haven’t released the valve in awhile,” Maura continues. She rubs antiseptic around the cut before she pulls out the needle and thread. Jane won’t want the anesthetic because Jane needs to feel something. “And I keep telling you that there are safer, healthier, more enjoyable ways to do that, but you don’t listen.”

Jane says nothing. She lets Maura sew her up.

“Jane?” Maura calls with a small smile, because it’s been a few seconds and Jane is blushing.

“Not ready yet,” Jane rushes out in one quick breath.

“Well, I am,” Maura says. Her next tug is particularly forceful and it jerks Jane’s head closer to Maura’s chest. “And so I don’t mind waiting for you to be. But what I have planned is a lot better than a through-and-through and a forced reunion, so you may want to hurry up.”

Jane responds with a chuckle and white knuckles against her own knees. “Oh, fuck off.”

#ask anthrofreshtodeath #otp prompts april 2023 #rizzoli and isles #lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #also hey self-diagnosis is valid but if you suspect you have a disability its always a good idea to confirm that medically #so that you can have access to some resources that are out there #I headcanon maura as having way too much internalized ableism and stubbornness to do so however 💀

[twinkubus]

thinking about an emotion

have been trying to feel emotions when they happen, and shame is a rough one! like a blanket over head and chest. like a turning-away. and the way it lingers like fire in coals.

also how it can come up again totally disconnected from the event that sparked it! recently i realized, a few years ago i had been totally oblivious of someone's overtures towards friendship. even while thinking they were a cool person i just thought they were too cool for me! but looking back at a few of our brief interactions i was like...oh they totally were giving positive signals i just whiffed it and now we hardly interact. and seeing posts from them just dredged up all that embarrassment which i wasn't even feeling at the time bc i had no idea. also definitely the feeling is disproportionate to the event. the feeling is so big!!

related i brought up to S that i had been looking to get a cane to try and was completely unprepared for the wave of shame that came over me. she didn't even react badly- very supportively in fact- and i think mobility aids fuck hard i guess i just didn't internalize it wrt me!!

#lll #shame & some internalized ableism at the end

[aquarian-airhead]

things that don't help me sleep at night

deflated pillow

neighbour snores really loud

the fact that I used to hold virulently ableist views about people with personality disorders right up until the moment I realised I might be one of them myself

#guilt I guess #or maybe I'm confusing shame with guilt who knows #ableism #internalized ableism #airhead ffs #self callout #neurodivergence #<- yes I tag PD as ND on my own blog I have some choice beliefs okay #personality disorders #cluster b

[chthonic-cassandra]

It is ridiculous how every few months I have the realization, "because of trauma/chronic illness/etc there are a lot of activities of daily living that I either cannot do or can only do with great difficulty, and that means I am disabled" and every time it feels like a new revelation.

#you would think the internalized ableism would resolve at some point #personal

[cherrysnax]

I don’t often talk abt bein a system on here anymore, alters don’t use their tags as often, and I rarely reblog posts about it mostly because when we did ppl would treat us… differently if that makes sense. like less of a person more of.. a novelty?

#nowadays unless it’s Chevy who can pretty much always tell anyway #we don’t tell anyone when we switch because it’s not worth the trouble yknow #esp since I’m basically always around unless I’m mad triggered #some days I’m more floaty than others- and that’s when like I worry about interacting with people because sometimes #some ppl are more combative than others #that problems pretty much been nipped in the bud but yknow it’s always good to keep in check #idk if it’s like internalized shame? I see other systems make their entire livelihood and hobbies off of being systems which is fine #but idk we don’t want to feel like a spectacle #only thinking about this because of college and we know that. anything can trigger us. be it negative or positive and we haven’t had to like #navigate that issue in a while. like how I haven’t had to mask in years autism wise #is this like internalized ableism