#i feel almost like i’m ‘not disabled enough’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chvoswxtch · 4 months

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hi um so this is like my first time making a request, like ever. I’m not even sure if this is where I’m supposed to put a request. So I’m really nervous but this idea has been in my head for weeks and I need it to be brought to life? Idk but can I request Matt Murdock with a sort of shy reader? Where he tells her about his abilities and daredevil and everything (established relationship) and she doesn’t really care as long as he’s safe but she has something in her mind and he notices and keeps asking and basically she has a question about his senses, specifically his taste and idk if you know but Matt can canonically know ALL of the ingredients of anything just from a taste and she basically wants to make him taste a bunch of stuff and tell her the ingredients of it so she can make them? I know this is probably WAY too specific so feel free to completely ignore this, I just wanted to get it out.

hi my darling!

so I actually read this request right before going to the grocery store, and while I was looking through produce, it made me think about how matt would absolutely know which produce was the freshest and which ones to avoid. I kinda mixed that in with your idea about being able to tell exactly what ingredients were in something, and I hope this is close to what you were looking for! <3

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and matt being a lil shit word count: 1.3k

lemons.

“Not that one.”

You hand instantly stilled over a lemon that your fingertips had already grazed over. Glancing at Matt over your shoulder, a crease formed between your brows while you looked back down at it.

“What do you mean? This one is perfect-”

“It’s not ripe enough.”

“But…it’s so yellow, like sunshine yellow.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Matt’s lips when he felt the way your own pursed into a bit of a confused pout. It was something you always did when you were intensely focused on something, and he found it endearing. Reaching his hand out, he used the pad of his thumb to smooth away the furrow that had creased in the middle of your forehead, and his soft smile curled up into a light smirk catching the flush of heat that immediately coursed through the tops of your cheeks.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a very pretty lemon, but it doesn’t taste ripe.”

Ever since Matt had told you the truth about his vigilante identity and his abilities, you’d had countless questions. You wouldn’t voice them at first, almost as if you were afraid to cross some invisible boundary that Matt might have, but he knew you, and he knew how to dismantle that shy exterior of yours. From the moment the two of you first met, you had been overly polite and accommodating about his disability, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. You didn’t walk on eggshells around him or call any extra attention to his blindness. In fact, the way you interacted with him was so seamless, it was almost like it came second nature.

If you guys were grabbing coffee with Karen and Foggy, you would automatically place the raw sugar packets within his reach because you knew he preferred it to the artificial sweeteners. If the four of you went to check out a new lunch spot, you always called ahead to check if they had a menu in braille and made sure Matt was given one. There were so many little things you did to make him feel included and normal. It was part of why he fell so hard for you.

You never asked about the origin of his blindness, and even after he opened up and told you about his accident, you were reserved with your questions. He could tell you were curious, and he wanted you to ask. He wanted you to know things about him. You were a bit of a wallflower, and Matt could always feel you silently observing him, but he wanted you to understand him. He quickly realized he would have to flat out grant you permission to be nosey, and so he did.

Out of everyone he had revealed his Daredevil secret to, you had taken it the best. He didn’t know if he would ever get over the surprise of just how well you handled it. You didn’t get angry or yell at him. You didn’t call him a liar or a traitor, or ask him if he was faking his blindness; all reactions he expected. You just sat there in pure confusion, and you were silent for so long, Matt was panicked that he’d sent you into a state of shock. When it finally settled in that it wasn’t a joke, your brows knit together, and Matt could feel the way your face contorted into an expression of irritation when you flat out asked him if he was crazy. The memory of that night never failed to make him smile.

“Um…well, I mean…not in the traditional sense-”

“Matthew, what the hell are you thinking running around on rooftops, going after guys with guns and knives with…sticks? How do you even do that?”

“They’re batons, actually. Look it’s hard to explain, but I have heightened senses that help me-”

“Are those super senses going to keep you out of prison? Because that’s where you’re going if you get caught. What was the point of going hundreds of thousands of dollars into debt for law school if you were just going to wind up a prison cell for doing backflips off buildings in your underwear?”

“Heightened senses. And it’s not underwear. Underwear is comfortable.”

There hadn’t been a hint of anger in your voice. Annoyance, sure, but mainly concern. All you wanted was for Matt to be safe, and he did his best to assure you that he would be. Matt went into as much detail as he could to help you understand his abilities, and the more comfortable you got with asking him things, the more you learned.

Like how he could tell exactly what ingredients were in the lemon bread at the cafe down the street from your apartment that you loved so much, which was currently the reason behind your little trip to the store at the moment. All it took was one bite of the bread, and he knew exactly how to replicate it.

Apparently he could also tell when lemons were at their peak.

Reaching into the pile of lemons, Matt grasped the one that was in perfect condition to him and held it out towards you. Taking the lemon in your hand, you gave it a light squeeze, noticing that it was firm to the touch but easily gave into the gentle force of your fingers testing its density.

“Feel the rind.”

Following Matt’s instructions, you brushed your thumb along the bright yellow rind. It was smooth to the touch, and somewhat glossy as it nearly reflected the brightness of the overhead lighting in the grocery store.

“It’s shiny.”

Matt chuckled at your response and lightly nodded his chin in your direction.

“What else?”

“It’s smooth.”

“It’s perfectly ripe. The zest on this one is the freshest. It has the most flavor, and the right amount of juice.”

Arching one of your brows, you stared up at Matt curiously while still faintly squeezing the lemon in your hand.

“You can tell how much juice is in this just by touching it?”

A grin stretched across Matt’s lips, showcasing his dazzling teeth and causing indents to appear in his cheeks. His thick brows rose slightly above the rim of his crimson glasses.

“Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

“No I’m just…still trying to figure out how you do…what you do.”

A bashful twinge of heat coated your cheeks once again, and Matt thought it was adorable that you diverted your attention back to the lemon shyly to avoid his gaze even though he couldn’t see your reaction. He reached out to tenderly brush his knuckles along the warmth in your cheeks while he smiled in your direction.

“I’ll try to do better at explaining. Now c’mon, we have more ingredients to get. You know, I think this bread is gonna turn out so well, the one at the cafe might not meet your standards anymore.”

The confidence in Matt’s voice caught your attention, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Sometimes you forgot that your boyfriend was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that everyone was so afraid of. If only they knew that he spent his Saturdays sniffing out ingredients at the grocery store like a bloodhound to help his girlfriend recreate the recipe for her favorite lemon bread.

“You know, if you didn’t love law so much, you could’ve made out like a bandit in a baking competition.”

“Oh I would’ve won with my sob story of being a blind little Catholic orphan alone.”

“Matthew!”

Matt snickered at the disbelief in your tone, but he could also detect the way the edges of your lips twitched, like you weren’t sure if you should laugh at that or not. Snaking his arm around your waist, he pressed a light kiss to your forehead and gently nudged you in the direction towards the spice aisle.

“Come on, we need flour.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request

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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months

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Yuta finding out you've got severely injured at Shibuya and freaking out

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: When the news of Shibuya begin to flood in, Yuta almost loses his mind over you. Without thinking twice he pays you, the secret love of his life, a visit.

Warnings: reader is depressed over her injury/disabilities so if that's not for you don't read it, Yuta is very confident in this one like he should, hurt/injury, comfort with my boy Yuta in the end

„Don’t tell me she was there too.”

Pictures flood Yuta’s mind uncontrollably. Your oh so gorgeous doe eyes, your breath-taking smile. You with your hair done the way you know he likes, you in that uniform that suits you so well.

You, lying on the floor covered in your own blood.

The news of what happened at Shibuya already pulled the ground underneath his feet. But given the fact that everyone was involved like Miguel said, you must have been there. They would be reckless to not rely on your powers.

You, a grade 2 sorcerer who would have become a grade 1 within the next few months. You, who promised him that you’ll stay safe.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, okay? This is a great opportunity to get a hold of your great powers, Yuta. I mean of course I’ll miss you terribly, but not enough to destroy this for you. Watch out.”

He had a bad feeling right from the start. After everything that happened just a few months ago, letting you go was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. But you were right with what you’ve said, to accompany Miguel and invest his time into training really was the wisest thing he could do back then.

Except for leaving you behind.

“You mean (y/n)? Both you and I know she definitely was.”

His heart drops in an instant, eyes widen in nothing but pure horror. Hearing that none other that Satoru Gojo got sealed, countless lives ended within only a couple of hours…

You can’t be dead, right? No, it’s simply impossible that you leave him alone like this.

“I hate the thought of dying during some pointless battle. This just doesn’t make sense to me, y’know? I’d rather die as a hero or not at all until I’m old and ugly.”

“But (y/n), you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. Many people just die on the battlefield without a special purpose.”

“I won’t, then.”

God, your wide smile back then. It really made him believe that you are the type to survive everything, that nothing and no one is able to bring you down.

But Shibuya managed to even get a hold of the strongest of them all. So what about you?

His lips begin to tremble uncontrollably, hands clenched into fists so tightly that blood begins to spill.

“Tell me she’s alright. Tell me (y/n) made it without getting hurt.”

Miguel signs, the sheer power that radiates from Yuta’s shaking figure running shivers down his spine.

“As far as I know she managed to get out…Somehow.”

That means you’re alive, right? That means you were able to escape certain death. But…

At what cost?

“How is she, then? Tell me already”, Yuta barks at the man standing in front of him.

God, he can’t lose you. Not know. Not when he wasn’t even able to admit his feelings to you, to thank you for always standing by his side, before telling you how much he adores you with all his heart.

“I don’t know! Everything is pure chaos over there”, Miguel replies dryly.

“If that’s so, I will go and pay her a visit.”

“Now? Did you forget you’re here to get trained by me? You can’t just fly over there because of a girl-“

“She is more than just a girl”, Yuta interrupts him immediately.

“And I will go and look after her myself.”

-At Jujutsu High-

Urgh, how much you hate opening your eyes since that fateful day. Yes, you are very much alive and in proud possession of all your limbs. But that’s it, basically.

“Hey, how you’re doing?”

“Better than yesterday, still not fine I guess.”

It haunts you. The pictures of Shibuya plague your mind day in day out. Closing your eyes means seeing all of their faces before they die, opening them reminds you of the fact that you survived despite losing everything else. The sight of your left eye, the ability to move your arms freely, your capability to walk a straight line. The fucking special grade curses hit you hard, burned you to the ground, sliced you open like a fish.

And now you’re laying here as one of the few people that survived Shibuya. Right next to Shoko who cares for you every free minute.

“So glad you didn’t tell me you hate your life again, pessimism doesn’t suit you at all. What would that boy say if he could hear you blow misery?”

That boy named Yuta. It seems like everyone except himself knows about the huge crush you have on him. Well, not very surprising considering the fact that you talk about him day in and out, asking whenever he’s doing fine in that foreign land before even saying hallo.

“Haven’t heard from him since that shit happened. My phone got kinda destroyed and well, most of the time I laid here passed out on the bed”, you reply briefly, staring at the ceiling with no aim.

Oh, how much you long for him, how much you miss to hear his comforting words in the middle of the night. But you know it wouldn’t be wise to tell him what happened. As far as you can tell, Yuta would take the next flight to Tokyo and stay by your side day and night. And even though that sounds more than appealing to you, you just know this isn’t what he needs. He needs to stay where he is, safe and sound while sharpening his abilities. And you aren’t on that list.

“Well, someone definitely told him.”

You squint your functioning eye, staring at the unbothered woman in front of you in confusion. What the hell is she talking about?

“Why are you saying that?”

“(y/n)!?”

Your heart stops, eyes widen. That voice. That oh so familiar voice you heard over the phone for these past months. The voice you dreamed of day and night. Can it really be…

“Yuta?” you breathe out, eye searching for his familiar figure.

Yes, is really is him, standing in the middle of the room with his familiar white uniform. He looks so…different. The dark circles under his eyes are completely gone by now, his dark blue eyes glooming in the dim light. He definitely is a few inches taller than last time, features more mature than before. And his hair…it seems like he finally began to style it a little.

Without hesitation he storms towards you, glistening orbs scanning what’s left of your crippled body.

Yuta feels like dying. You’ve been through so much; your usual bright eyes show nothing but emptiness and agony. What did they do to you? Why does it have to be you? You, the most precious human being walking on this earth. You, the girl he’s secretly in love with since that horrible fight over a year ago. He can’t stop the tears from taking his sight, hands desperately grabbing yours.

“I’m so sorry (y/n). I should have been by your side. I shouldn’t have left you here alone, I-“

“Shut up, Yuta”, you interrupt him before hearing another word.

“You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect our first meeting to be when I…look like this…”, you mumble, gaze avoiding him at any cost.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”

His heart hammers against his chest, hands on their way to gently caress your cheek when you just turn away.

“All this time I had the chance to tell you that I love you and now…Look at me. Shoko said I might be never able to see again, countless scars will be visible on my body for the rest of my life. My leg got completely destroyed, to the point where even she might not be able to fix it. I’m not the (y/n) you know anymore. I’m a shadow of myself”, you bark at him.

Fuck, don’t cry, don’t let feelings overwhelm you. After all, Nanami-san told you how well you fought.

Just before dying in front of your very own eyes.

Your hands begin to tremble uncontrollably again when pictured of all the death and misery flood your mind. Why can’t you just turn it off? Why aren’t you strong enough to outstand all of this? Desperately you hold your own head, squinting your eyes shut. Please, just let it stop. Let it all go away.

Yuta doesn’t think twice. Gently, he places his hands on top of yours while pressing your head against his chest. It’s just not fair. When he left, you wore your smile so effortlessly, your joyful personality radiating to the outside for everyone to see. But now…you look so broken it kills him from the inside.

“I love you too, (y/n). Just the way you are. No matter how injured, no matter how bad you feel. I will always see the striking (y/n) with the most breath-taking smile and the worst humour of all times in you. We’ll get through this together, okay? I won’t leave your side.”

You crumble against his chest, letting everything out your hid so well within these last couple of hours. Oh, how much you fucking missed him, how much you longed for his touch all this time. Is it really possible that he doesn’t care about your state? Could it really be that…

Yuta Okkotsu loves you the way you are?

“You don’t care about how miserable I am?”, you whimper, taking in his delicious scent that hasn’t change even after all this time.

“Not the slightest. But I will kill everyone who did this to you without blinking”, he remarks in all seriousness.

You gaze up at him. The unsure boy in him seems to be vanished in thin air, eyes filled with confidence while he balls his fists behind your head.

Yuta Okkotsu might have changed, but the tenderness he holds in his gaze when his eyes meet yours is still the same.

“I swear that nothing like this will ever happen again. I’ll stay here with your and will make sure you’re safe.”

Your glossy eyes widen, mind trying to process his words.

“But you…you weren’t even supposed to be here. You still have to train-“

“No training in the world is more important than you. I love you, (y/n). And even though I wasn’t able to admit it back then, I want to stay by your side.”

And then is lips meet yours. Before he losing the courage to finally do what he dreamed of countless nights, to make sure you understand how much you mean to him. He will make them pay for what they did to you, he will move heaven and earth to make sure they get the punishment they deserve.

But for now, he gently strokes your hair while kissing you with all the desire he hit over the past months, will all the love he holds for you.

“I’ll be there for you, okay? And I will kill every single one of them with my own hands.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

there you have it @lees-chaotic-brain I really hope you like it <3 I know this isn't your request yet but I thought you'll enjoy some Yuta content still @belovedvamp

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its-time-to-write · 6 months

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I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!

Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?

ANyway love you lots!!!

warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)

reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.

LOVE U BABE

you’ll probably date her

It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).

Not to mention the fucking tiredness.

School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too.

Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.

There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).

Oh, and Jamie.

You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”

He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.

When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear.

“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.

Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.

It goes like that for years.

When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.

It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.

You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.

A shock, sure, but a soothing one.

You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight.

(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)

He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.

“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.

He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).

He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.

(He promises he’ll call all the time.)

—

He does call, until he doesn’t.

Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.

“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”

You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).

Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).

Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.

Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.

It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.

Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.

You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.

He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you.

(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)

It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.

The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.

He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.

(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)

—

“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”

“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.

“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”

“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly.

Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.

“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.

Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.

There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.

The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent.

By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).

You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.

There’s a tap on your door.

“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.

He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.

“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him.

“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”

Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”

“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”

(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)

Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”

“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.

Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.

Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”

“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”

Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.

Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.

“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.

“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.

—

It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.

(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.

“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes.

“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”

“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.

Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).

“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.

“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”

You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?

Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.

“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”

“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.

“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.

Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.

“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.

“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”

Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”

“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.

“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”

Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means…

“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.

“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.

“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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artiststarme · 1 year

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Wayne deserves way more credit

Just a little snippet I came up with for an interaction between Wayne and the boys. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Wayne didn’t get paid enough for this shit. It had been a long week and an even longer shift with him pulling doubles while one of his coworkers was off on disability. He just wanted to head to bed after a nice cup of coffee when he got back home. What he didn’t want was to be roped into yet another tedious argument between his nephew and his boyfriend. He was over their ridiculous spats and their meddling in his morning coffee time. Yet, here he was.

“Wayne, Wayne, tell Eddie you’d adopt me if he broke up with me! I’m becoming a Munson whether you like it or not, you fucker!” Steve shouted, pointing an accusing finger at his nephew.

“I’m not threatening to break up with you. I’m just saying that I’m not some damsel in distress that you need to protect. You need to stop!” Eddie tried to reason.

“That’s not what you were saying twenty minutes ago, asshole!”

“Uncle Wayne, tell him that he needs to stop beating up everyone that looks at me wrong or he’s going to give himself another concussion!” Eddie shouted back.

Wayne just sipped his coffee. He was only on cup one but this was turning out to be a three cup day. This happened more than he liked but that just meant he had a system in place. He would let the boys rant it out with one another before he ended it.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. ‘almost eaten to death by demon bats’! If I want to kick someone’s ass for calling you a murderer, I will!” Now, Wayne couldn’t argue with him there. He wasn’t sure what the bat reference meant but if Eddie’s boy wanted to stick up for him, Wayne wasn’t going to stop him. Anyone protecting Eddie got a gold star in his book and Steve Harrington was in first place.

“You can’t get another concussion! You need all the brain cells you have!” Eddie yelled angrily.

“Are you calling me stupid? You know how I feel about that, Eddie. What the fuck?! Wayne, defend me!”

Wayne heaved a deep sigh before turning to Eddie. “Eddie, we don’t call people names in this household and you know that.”

“But he-”

“Steve, you need to stop picking fights because Hopper’ll kick my ass if you get another head injury on my watch. If you’re gonna be fighting, give ‘em a sucker punch so they can’t hitcha back.”

“Wayne! Don’t tell my boyfriend to pick fights over me. What the hell?” Eddie sputtered.

“I’ll tell your boyfriend whatever I want! And he’s right, if you try to break up with him, I will adopt him. He’s getting the Munson name one way or another and if you’re not gonna do it, I will. Now get the hell outta here, I’m going to bed.”

Both boys grumbled but grabbed their things and left regardless. Eddie gave him a short hug in goodbye as he left. Wayne just sighed, another crisis averted. If they kept this up though, he was going to need way more coffee than his daily allowance.

#Wayne thinks they have the dumbest fights but he still gets involved everytime #there's no way they can get rid of Steve- he's the only one that can make eggs without burning them #that makes him an honorary Munson in Wayne's book #he loves Eddie which is also important I guess #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #snippet #steve harrington #eddie munson #uncle wayne #wayne munson

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crippled-peeper · 9 days

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do you think people with “less severe” physical disabilities should clarify that on their cpunk blogs/not call themselvescpunk ? i say this because i am “less severe” than most ppl i see here, i use mobility aides but i am primarily ambulatory and most doctors look at me and say its not that bad bcz my conditions are all supposedly easily treatable despite none of the treatments working. im scared if i start a cpunk blog people are going to say im not disabled enough or im imposing myself into a space i dont belong in. i know the original coining says people of all physical disabilities can be cpunk, but i just dont know if the actual culture really believes that.

if this is way too much to ask of one person, really sorry! youre under no obligation to answer, i just dont really know how else to ask this question since im scared of creating a blog in the first place and ur a cpunk blogger that seems like you probably wouldn’t yell at me for asking :,)

It doesn’t really matter what other people behave like or say to you. Cpunk was always supposed to include people who are “less severely” or less “visibly” disabled. The only requirement there has ever been is that you consider yourself physically disabled.

Tai, the creator of cpunk, had fibromyalgia themselves and made many posts about it and about how it impacted their life. I think they would be displeased if they saw people going around saying “actually, you’re not bad enough off, you can’t talk about being physically disabled!” Because they themselves might have fallen into that category in the distant past.

I’m not the arbiter of who can talk in/use the Cripplepunk tag. I only go off what the person who created it said about it on their blog.

Unfortunately, we can’t ask them anymore since they are no longer with us, but I’m almost certain they would want you to blog about your experiences even if they don’t seem “that bad”, because a lot of people (even me sometimes) feel like they can never have it “bad enough” to feel valid.

this kind of concern is actually super common with people who are gaslit about their conditions

#Anonymous #cripplepunk

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deathbecomesthem · 2 months

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Crawling to the Finish | Part 1 of 4 | 2.6K

I am queuing up all 4 parts of this story, and they will all be released throughout the week on the dates that are indicated on the Materlist. This story is already completed, and I do not intend to revisit it for editing. My emotional labor on this one has already been done.

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else.

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

This one goes out to CJ - you helped me carry my books my junior and senior years of high school because you got to leave class early. You were a real one.

The crutches rubbed the skin of your armpits raw. You’d tried everything. Your mom has sewn pieces of flannel over the arm rests to try to make it more comfortable. It didn’t matter. The only solution was to give it time, let your skin grow tougher. These crutches would be your best friends for the foreseeable future.

The immediate concern after your initial recovery was getting you back to “normal” life. That meant school. The thought of trying to wade through the crowds at Hawkins High while balancing on your crutches was enough to send you into a fury. It was so unfair. Your parents and the administration were determined to make it work.

You would be allowed to leave your classes 5 minutes early, working your way through empty hallways. You could carry your backpack to your classes, despite the rule about keeping them in lockers. You can’t imagine trying to rest your tender hip on the cold desks that could be found in every classroom, but Principal Higgins has a solution for that. One that you’ve promised yourself you’ll never use.

“I’m not sitting on a donut.” Your mom has tried to show you how much more comfortable you would be sitting on a donut designed for hemorrhoid pain. “I’d rather die. I’ll deal with the pain.”

Dealing with the pain was something you always did. You learned early on that complaining about it wouldn’t make it lessen, it just made the people around you make sympathetic noises that set you on edge.

Being on edge is your new normal. Everything set you off. You took everything personally. If someone was overly nice to you, you took it as an insult. Everyone wanted to help, but you wanted to do it yourself. You were so tired of people using you to make themselves feel better. “Oh, I helped that poor cripple girl today when she was struggling with the door. Aren’t I special?”

So, you taught yourself how to do everything – with adjustments. Because you didn’t want to miss out on more than you had to. You gained stamina. You once crutched 3 miles with a group of friends to watch a fireworks display. It almost killed you, and you couldn’t lift your arms the following day, but you did it. And you watched those fireworks with your head rested in your boyfriend’s lap. He never asked if you were ok. He never suggested that maybe he should have stayed back with you and watched them from the back of his truck. So, you did it, and you hid the pain.

It only reinforced the idea that you had to be better at pretending to be fine when that same boyfriend cheated on you while you were in the hospital recovering from surgery last year. You had insisted he not miss junior prom because of you, insisted he take your friend. Megan was one of your best friends, and she was more than happy to do it. You didn’t know that they’d been secretly fucking for months.

Your brain knew that he was a dick, and that what he did was fucking awful. You also knew that you were a burden to everyone around you. Of course he wanted out, but how do you break up with a cripple without being an asshole? The answer was that you didn’t. But that was last year, and this year you didn’t have to worry about boys and friends. You just had to worry about making it to graduation. Fuck the rest of it. You would crawl onto that stage if you had to.

The first morning back to school after the most recent surgery came halfway through your senior year, 3 weeks after having your sixth major hip repair surgery. The previous five were failures. This is a last-ditch effort with a new surgeon. As soon as you turned 18, you left the pediatric orthopedic surgeon you’d been seeing for the last 5 years – he was one of the best in the country – to see someone new. Someone that wouldn’t attach the expectations of pediatric care with your treatment plan anymore. You need a life, and you’ve already lost so much time.

When you saw the new doctor, he looked at your images and said, “this is a mess.” One 6-inch rod attached to your thigh bone and at least 8 pins holding the failed hip fusion in place. His treatment plan was, “let’s take it all out and see what happens.” He promised if you gave it a full 6 weeks to see what happens, he’d do a full replacement. He’d give you your life back.

So, you let him have his little experiment with you. You let your parents hope for some miracle, let them ask their church friends to pray for you. You give your doctor the agreed upon 6 weeks to ”see what happens”, and then he’ll take that diseased bone out of your body and replace it with metal, plastic, and ceramic.

Today is the day you crutch your ass back into high school and try to have a normal day. Completing course work at home has been a breeze, but the district is determined to not be labeled as unfriendly to disabled people, so you’re here now. The first three periods are ok, it’s English, Algebra, and a typing class. Painful, but bearable. The fourth class of the day, American History, started with a bang.

Mr. Willis is a short man with a perpetually annoyed expression. He is known for openly mocking his female students. His room smelled of onions, and his short sleeved white button up shirts always sported yellow-green armpit stains. The onion smell was always worse when he moved around the room, his arms lifted high in the air to get a point across.

The class starts, as all classes do, with a roll call. Perfectly reasonable, nothing out of the ordinary until he reaches your name.

“Y/N – you’re gracing us with your presence today?” His eyes are glaring at you from behind his desk. “That’s a shame.” He stands and walks over to you, his stench trailing behind him, “I need you to go to Vice Principal Brobeck’s office immediately.” He has a disciplinary slip already filled out in his hand.

“What?” You can’t help your tone; it’s confused and annoyed. How could you possibly be in trouble when it’s been weeks since you last sat at this desk.

“Your truancy needs to be addressed by the administration. A string of unexcused absences. Go!” He barks out the last, finger pointing to the door, and you can’t help but scoff at him.

“Uh, fine, I’ll go. Can I ask you, though, are you blind?” You wave your crutches at him while trying to maneuver and get your backpack over your shoulders. “I had surgery.”

He prattles on about your tone and lack of respect to your back as you crutch your way down the long hallway to the administrative offices for the school. You were exhausted already, and adding another trip around the school with your heavy backpack left you feeling angry. You could feel hot tears of frustration burning behind your eyes while you stumble a little at the office door.

The secretary has you take a seat in one of the soft cushion chairs in the entryway, which is a small mercy for your sore hip. Someone is sitting next to you, but you barely register his presence in your current state of distress and pain.

“Uh, what the hell did you do to get sent down to the office?” His voice is playful with you, but you’re not in the mood to engage with anyone.

“My existence in this building is enough, apparently.”

Before he can manage a response, the Vice Principal’s door opens, and he calls your name. The boy in the chair next to you tries to help with your bag, but you just snatch it out of his hands and throw it over your shoulders before crutching into the inner office.

“So, Mr. Willis says you’ve been truant. Do you have an explanation?” You can tell by his glassy eyes that he’s just going through the motions without actually taking in the situation sitting right in front of his face.

“I’m sorry, are you serious right now?” This gets his attention. You can practically see smoke coming out of his ears at your attitude, until he really takes a look at you. The crutches, the obvious pain in your face. “I’ve been out for 3 weeks because I had surgery. I’m back because Principal Higgins insisted the school could accommodate my needs. Call my parents if you want.”

He has your mother on the phone in an instant. You imagine her sitting at the kitchen table just waiting for a call from the school, which is probably exactly what she’s been doing. She’s devoted years to your recovery. As soon as Mr. Brobeck says the word “truant”, you can hear her yelling through the phone line, demanding to speak to Principal Higgins. So it goes.

The boy is still sitting in a chair waiting for whatever punishment is coming for him when you exit the office with both principals at your heels. Higgins is falling all over himself apologizing, promising you’ll have no more problems with Mr. Willis when he spots Eddie.

“Munson, you want to get out of detention?” Your eyes are drawn back to the boy, finally taking him in fully. He’s shaggy haired, wearing leather and denim with big rings adorning his hands. A metalhead. In Hawkins.

“Uh, yes sir.” He’s standing wearing an open face, ready to accept any terms that are offered to him. Your assumption is that most of the staff at the school would use any excuse to give him detention or get him expelled.

“Y/N is going to need someone to help her get from class to class,” You start to protest, but Higgins speaks over you, “how do you feel about taking on that responsibility? You’ll have to leave your classes a few minutes early and make sure she can get around the school without a problem.”

“Of course. If that’s ok with her.” He looks to you. You have no choice but to agree, how can you say no with him looking at you like that? His eyes pleading.

So, it was decided. Eddie Munson, the problem child of Hawkins, would escort you between classes. The assumption from Higgins is that you’ll be happier with a little errand boy helping you, but this boy likes to talk.

“So, what’s with the sticks?” He’s sitting with you while you wait for the hallways to clear before heading to your next class. Would it be rude to tell him to leave me alone?

“It’s complicated. I had surgery a few weeks ago. I’ll probably have another one in a few weeks.” It’s all you can offer.

“Woah, that sucks. Are you new? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Not new. I’ve lived in Hawkins forever.” You could explain that you’ve been in and out of school for the last few years due to your accident and subsequent surgeries, but you don’t have the strength. It also bores you to think about having that conversation with someone new.

“Really? How have I never seen you before?” He’s trying to be friendly. Don’t be a dick to him.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just not very perceptive.” It’s a low blow, but he laughs at it, which is promising. “Listen, I’m really drained. Can we just sit here?”

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry.” He looks genuinely apologetic, but something about this interaction is different than what you’re used to. He’s not looking at you like you’re broken. He’s talking to you with interest, not pseudo sympathy.

“It’s ok. Ask me questions another time.” You let your head lean back against the wall and try to block out the noise in the room, and the pain zipping down your leg. This last surgery was a short one, but it left you drained. You feel loose, like your body is coming apart without the metal holding you together. You think it must be in your head, and remind yourself that you only need to get through a few weeks of this. It’s nothing, a few weeks is nothing.

You and Eddie have lunch together at his regular lunch table, which you agreed to because he promised his friends would leave you alone if he told them to. And they did, mostly, even though you got a lot of side eyes. Especially from the younger ones. You could see them practically vibrating with the need to talk to you. Especially the one in the hat. You can tell he’s gonna go for it before his mouth even opens.

“So, Eddie tells us he’s helping you get around for your classes.” The kid is being casual, and it’s so endearing, you can’t even be mad. A pretzel hits the kid in the face, Eddie looks like he’s ready to leap over the table and strangle him.

“Down boy, it’s ok.” You give him a little smile, so he knows you’re not mad. “Yes, Eddie’s helping me so he can get out of detention. It works out.” You give the kid the best smile you can manage, which you’re sure looks weak on your blood drained face.

The boy nods a little and says, “That’s a sweet deal for him, though, isn’t it? He gets to leave classes early and he gets out of detention.” Another pretzel is lobbed at the kid’s face, and now you’re giggling.

“You’re definitely right, I’m not sure what I’m getting out of it.”

“Can I ask –“ before the words come out of his mouth, Eddie is walking over to put his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“Dustin, what did we talk about?” Dustin, you’ll remember that.

“You said that you had a friend joining us and we had to leave her alone. But –“ Eddie tightens his grip, but Dustin persists, “BUT, I just want her to know that as a fellow disabled person, she can talk to me! Ok, I’m done now.”

The rest of the lunch period goes by without any incidents, but Dustin does slide over half of his oatmeal cookie to you at one point with a giant grin on his face. You mouth a little “thanks” and give him a weak smile.

Eddie gets you to and from the last few classes of the day, and even walks you out to your car after your last class. As the day goes on you, you decide to accept his help with as much grace as you can. Especially because the situation is actually helping him too. It makes it easier to swallow. Less like pity.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, Ilene.” His delivery of the joke is lame, and you let it hang in the air for a minute, letting him squirm. “You get it? Ilene?”

“Yeah, I get it Eddie.” You let your face fall, casting your eyes to the floor of your car. “That’s really insensitive. Maybe I should tell Principal Higgins to get me a new errand boy.” You’re trying to bite back the smirk his lame joke is threatening to bring to your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was funny –“

You’re giggling at his panic, “Eddie, that joke was so lame, it offended me. Do better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

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photogirl894 · 2 months

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Hello! I saw you wrote my request. 🥰 Thanks so much. Could I request another one? This one is a bit angsty: 29 & 30 with Wrecker x Fem reader. I’m wondering if this could be a challenge bc I just don’t see Wrecker getting into an argument with his s/o. Maybe his brothers, but not his girl.

Thanks!

Aw man, you're killing me with the Wrecker angst here, my friend 😜 But alas, here it is!!

"Not Ready"

29. "Shut up!"/"Make me!"

30. "Don't walk away from me!"

Pairing: Wrecker x fem reader

***

"What were you thinking? I told you, you weren't ready!"

After just narrowly finishing a mission, you found yourself being reprimanded by Wrecker. Lately, he'd been teaching you how to disarm explosives and you'd come across one on the mission that you honestly thought you could disable on your own, even though Wrecker had warned you against it saying you weren't quite ready yet. You thought you'd had it, but things had gone wrong and you'd made the countdown go faster. Wrecker had to quickly grab you and rush you to safety just before it exploded. Luckily, you and the rest of the squad had made it out okay with the intel you needed and you were on your way back to the Marauder...but Wrecker was definitely not happy with you at the moment and neither were you.

"And I told you, I had it handled!" you said frustratedly back to him, stopping to turn back and face him.

"Which is why the countdown started speeding up?" he asked back.

"Okay, that was one mistake," you spat back.

"One that almost cost you your life," he responded.

It was then Echo came between you two and said, "Look, that's enough. We still got out of there with what we needed."

"We wouldn't have had I not stepped in. Her not listening to me could've ruined the whole mission," Wrecker stated, growing increasingly mad.

"Ugh, shut up!" you shouted, getting angry.

Then he bellowed back at you, louder than you'd ever heard from him before, "Make me!"

The booming volume of his voice startled you and you instinctively took a step back, your eyes widening at how almost frightening he sounded. Wrecker had never yelled at you or even raised his voice at you like that. It scared you and that's what hurt even more. You weren't scared of Wrecker; you knew he would never hurt anyone. His heart was too good for that. This, however...it was different and you hated how it made you feel. Tears sprang to your eyes and, taken aback by the whole thing, you whipped around and sprinted away from the group in a different direction, hearing the others calling after you.

Wrecker realized too late what he had done just before you ran off. His face fell and his heart dropped at seeing how frightened you were. He hadn't meant to yell like that, but he had just gotten so frustrated...now he deeply regretted it.

"You shouldn't have yelled at her like that, Wrecker," Hunter lightly scolded him.

"I know," Wrecker replied sadly. "I don't know what came over me."

"You need to talk to her and apologize," Hunter told him.

Wrecker simply nodded and ran off in the direction you had gone.

You had stopped to quickly catch your breath and wipe the tears away from your eyes when you heard Wrecker's thunderous footsteps coming. You figured he had followed after you to just yell at you some more, so you went to move away.

"Wait, don't!" he cried out, making you halt. Then you heard his voice tremble slightly as he pleaded, "Please don't...don't walk away from me."

You turned over your shoulder and saw Wrecker standing just a few feet away, a look of regret on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled at you or said all those things. I care about you a lot and...I got worried when that bomb nearly killed you. That's why I want to make sure you're fully ready when it comes to explosives...and I'd hoped you would trust me when it came to them."

You hung your head in shame. He was right. He was the demolitions expert for a reason. "You're right. I should've trusted you," you admitted. "I just...really thought I was ready and wanted to impress you."

He walked over and put his hands on your shoulders. "You have impressed me with how quickly you're learning," he said to raise your spirits. "But if you jump the gun too quickly with explosives, things could end badly. That's why you have to be extra careful. You got it?"

"Yeah...I do," you replied. "I'm sorry and I'll be sure to listen to you better in the future."

"And I'll be sure to not get too worked up if things go wrong," he promised. "I'm just afraid of losing you."

You reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. "It'll take a lot more than a bomb for you to ever lose me. You can count on that."

With a comforted smile, he wrapped you up in his strong and warm embrace, just happy to have you there in the first place.

Photogirl894's Angst Prompts

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#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch wrecker #bad batch prompts #wrecker x reader #photogirl894 1000 followers

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yantalia545 · 4 months

Text

Yandere Axis sharing the same darling

I am just in love with all of the support I am receiving after coming back to posting. You guys are just so sweet! Thank you so much for all of your support and love. Keep being awesome!

If you thought dealing with just one of them was overbearing, try being pursued by all three.

Since this group gets along fairly well, they most likely would share their darling as opposed to fighting over you. Much like what would happen if you had the allies obsessing over you rather than the Axis powers. Not to say they can't be possessive or jealous if you seem to be giving more attention to one of them or ignoring them. Which in it's self, is a deadly concoction.

You most likely were a part of the Axis when they grew an attachment to you or were begging you to join them during the time of war if you weren't already a part of it. However the circumstance may be, the end result will always be the same; You will join them. Whether it be through negotiations or by force is completely up to you.

By the off chance that you took part in the Allies during war times, things would be a bit stickier but still produce the same results.

As everyone knows, they don't win wars so you can't say that they took over your country. They may have occupied your country at one point during the war. Sadly, however, you would be rescued by one of your fellow Allies at some point.

If the Axis were lucky enough, they may have war-torn your country enough so that it would be difficult to get back up on your feet again once the wars were over. With that, you'd be vulnerable and in need of assistance. Not that they're much better.

As they slowly rise back to power, they'll watch over you from a distance; Mostly. Italy is in need of comfort after the war and is in desperate need of some comfort from you. Japan and Germany however, will stand to painfully admire your beauty from a distance. They almost had you. They just needed a little more power then things would have gone differently.

The three of them will silently beat themselves over the thought that they were so close to finally obtaining you. They just needed a little more power to have made all of their dreams come true, but they got careless and cocky somewhere along the way and got swept up by the Allies. Curse them.

Because of these swirling thoughts, the three will work hard through their bubbling anger every day rising back to power and a chance to be with you again. Then when the does finally come, they can put their second plan into place.

A simpler plan.

Sneakier.

The Axis may try to appease your cause in hopes through seemingly fair treaties. Don't you ever take anything at face value when it involves them. There will always be shadowing loopholes and conditions that are set to seriously disable you from your own economy. How did you not see this coming?

With you finally within their grasps, the real conditioning can begin.

Life with the three of them can be quite rough. For starters, you'll hardly get any alone time. If you're not spending time with all three of them then you're at least spending time with one of them. They just want as much time with their darling as much as possible. After all, they did go through hell just to get you this far.

And the rules. I’m talking mostly about Germany on this part, but there will be a strict set of rules that you must follow or you will face punishment. However, Germany can’t help but have a soft spot for you like he does with Italy. The worst punish there would be is isolation and starvation. You may even find him to be quite lenient if you’ve been behaving or rather sweet lately.

Italy would most likely be the one to soak up most of your time by clinging to you like you were apart of him. He just wants to do everything with his beloved. The other two will mostly just tag along with whatever. I do feel that Japan would be the one to be annoyed if anything and will try to sneak time with you when Italy is asleep.

Japan is the most tame out of the three. During his alone time with you, he would be content with just sitting with you and enjoying the night sky while sharing cups of tea. There won’t be need for many words. Just basking in you presence alone is enough to satisfy him.

At times, there may be bitckering between the three but they’re pretty tame. You may be just be pulled back and forth as they argue what their going to do or if someone is spending too much time with their darling *cough, Italy*.

You will for sure break under them. There are just too many of them to get away from them. Stockholm syndrome will sink its talons into one way or another with this trio.

#hetalia #yandere hetalia #hetalia x reader #yandere germany #yandere italy #yandere japan #yandere axis

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midnightsnyx · 8 months

Note

Hi I had an imagine idea for any hockey player as a boyfriend (I'm indecisive if you can't tell lol) but what about a scenario where reader's watching her boyfriend's hockey game, and while she cheers for him there's a group of girls nearby who hate on her? Like what if everyone knows that the hockey player and reader are dating and there are a few fans that aren't really happy with the reader and a couple of those people happen to be sitting near her at the game?

The rest is up to you, happy writing :P

hi ty for the request❤️ i picked jack hughes i hope you like it!! <3 also sorry it’s kind of angsty and short & definitely not edited cause i’m 99% asleep rn😂

you loved supporting jack at his games, it was one of your favorite things to do. however, you didn’t like the attention you received sometimes especially considering it was almost always bad.

yeah you get it, jack is good looking (too much for his own good sometimes) and he’s a professional hockey player so there are a lot of girls who like him but even though they know he’s taken, they will still throw themselves at him. and they will say awful stuff about you sometimes. anytime either of you post something on instagram, you have to disable the comments.

you’re still as supportive as you can be and that includes attending as many games as you can so you decide to surprise him tonight by showing up at a home game. you’d originally told him you were unable to make it which was true but when your boss let you go home early, you decided to surprise him instead of going home and watching the game on the tv.

it was too late to get a decent seat and you still weren’t quite comfortable enough to go to the wives lounge. the other girls were absolutely wonderful and supportive but you were still warming up to them and didn’t feel like you should be there yet.

the downside to getting a crappy seat though was that there were sometimes people around who weren’t exactly nice. you were wishing you had either gotten a suite or decided to just go to the wives lounge when a group a girls start whispering about you. it’s clear that they want you to hear them and as much as you try to tune them out, it’s hard.

by the end of the game, your self confidence is pretty low and you just want to go home and crawl in bed but jack noticed that you were here so you had to go meet him at the locker room doors. when he comes out, all smiles due to their win, he notices your mood right away.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, wrapping his arms around you. you bury your face in his neck, hoping that he doesn’t notice the tears.

you just shrug, looking at the ground when you pull away.

“i think i’ll just go back to my place tonight.”

you don’t have to look to see the disappointment on his face. you’d promised you would spend the night at his place and the two of you were looking forward to it.

“they’re wrong, you know,” he says and of course he knows what’s wrong.

“i know jack,” you mutter. “it’s just hard to ignore sometimes.”

you don’t give him a chance to reply, turning on your heel and leaving quickly. a warm bath and your bed sounds like heaven right about now.

but you only get as far as your car before a hand gently wraps around your wrist and you know it’s jack. he tugs you into another hug, not letting you escape this time. not that you want to now.

“i won’t say i understand how it feels, baby,” he whispers in your hair. “but i don’t give a shit what any of them say.” there’s a pause and then he pulls away only far enough to be able to look you in the eyes.

“i love you.”

those three little words that weigh so much haven’t been said between the two of you. you always show your love in other ways and you were okay with that but hearing it, hearing him say them out loud, heals something inside you.

“yeah?” you ask quietly and he chuckles softly.

“yeah.” his head tilts to the side slightly. “you know, i was kind of hoping you’d-”

you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“i love you too.”

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #allie answers #hockey imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fluff

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raffe156 · 1 year

Text

Late Night sparring

Pairing - Price X Tank X Ghost

Summary - A Late Night sparring sessions turns into something more.

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism, Language, Age gap Price (39) Tank (25) Ghost (36) SoftDom!Price, public sex, praise kink, fingering, Oral (F receiving) P in V, unsafe sex, Ghost being a little simp for Tank, Price likes to watch...

AN- I'm so sorry this took so long! not 100% happy with it, but we'll see what you guys think.

It's kind of filth, I re wrote this about 4 times so please please please let me know what you guys think either by comments, anon asks or however you feel comfortable! I've been in such a writers block headspace that getting this out felt like such an accomplishment haha!

Also enjoy another one of the commissions I had done by the amazingly talented @hffhifjou x

@deadbranch @mildlyhopeless @fanficandartgal @shuttlelauncher81 @a-littlebirdie @soapyghost @boomtowngirl @mostannoyingbillioner @brewed-pangolin @chb-7 @sarcastic-raptor163 @tapioca-marzipan

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters, Only Tank

“Hands where I can see them Riley!” Price shouted from the side lines. Ghost currently had you pinned underneath him both arms locked behind your back pressed to his stomach, face pressed to the floor of the ring.

“Will one do?” Ghost waved his free hand at Price causing his weight to shift fully onto you. You could just make out Price giving him the finger, his brow furrowed.

“Off now…” He made his way over to the edge of the ring, but Ghost didn’t ease up. Instead he leaned down close, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

“You don’t want me to get up do you?…I think you like being under me…” it was just quiet enough for Price to miss but he didn’t miss the flush that spread across your face.

“UP NOW!” It was more of a warning that a request now. Ghost made a slow effort to get up, his hands being the last to leave your wrists. They felt bruised but it was a nice ache. You would never admit it to him, but he was right.

‘I think I’m done for tonight cap…I need a shower” You rolled over onto your back flat out. You didn’t even need to look at Price to know that wasn’t happening.

“Ill be the judge of that…I’ll take over the session..” Price shrugged his shoulders, stretched his arms and entered the ring. Ghost shot him a look.

“Maybe we should just hit the showers eh Cap?” Ghost rubbed your calf, you both knew exactly what he meant and the mental image caused your mind to wander…would all 3 of you even fit? The cubicles were small…you and Price just about fit…would Ghost keep his mask on? Did Ghost wear his mask in the shower? You hadn’t realised Price was talking to you till he snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“I said are you ready kid?” Price cocked his eyebrow at you.

“what? Really? I’ve just had my arse handed to me by him…I don’t need another beat down from you! Can we just all go take a shower?” You sat up, looking up at Price from under your lashes…hopefully the little lost lamb look would soften his big bad wolf stance…it didn’t. The pathetic attempt made Ghost scoff…but you and he knew it would have worked on him. Price was a tougher nut to crack. You stood up.

“If that’s what you want then you better get to work…because we aren’t stopping till you get me pinned to the ground” before you could protest Price was on you like a rash, in two moves he had disabled you completely. Both arms behind your back body bent forward. If you weren’t so pissed off this would have been hot, but you knew he meant business an knew he wasn’t joking about not stopping till you pinned him.

*******

It had been about an hour your breath was ragged, the sweat dripping from you, your body ached from being slammed to the ground numerous times by Price his full weight resting on you each time, he didn’t hold back.

Every sly attempt to seduce him or touch him failed and almost always ended up with you on your arse or in a headlock tapping his arm.

“Can’t flirt your way out of a headlock love!”

“How long can you keep this up? Really?” You crouched taking in the few minutes rest. You watched Price from the corner of your eye he circled you like a predator his breathing was deep, though he didn’t look half as worn out as you did, if anything he looked virile, rejuvenated what was he getting out of this? He crouched in front of you a smirk planted across his face.

“You know me Tank I can go all night…”

His smug words had you grabbing at his arm to attempt a throw but instead he pulled you back into him your back pressed to his chest your own arm locking you in place.

“Nearly…” He chuckled in your ear, he knew it enraged you. He knew you were getting ratty now like a toddler that had been deprived of an afternoon nap. You bucked back into him trying and failing to throw him over. His laugh only get louder.

Ghost was silent in the corner, he had watching in awe as the two of you had fought. Watched as your bodies collided and crashed into one another. He watched as if in slow motion you bare and snap your teeth at Price who only returned the aggression in the form or a smirk. It was like a dance and Ghost wanted to cut in.

“Think she’s had enough Price…she’s getting snappy now…literally” Just as he said it you had sunk your teeth into Prices forearm. He kicked your leg out from under you causing you to drop down releasing his arm from your bite, Price went down with you repositioning himself so your arms were completely locked behind you.

“Im sick of this shit…” you were struggling against him so much you hadn’t even clocked Ghost now crouched in front of you. His ski mask was up.

He leaned in his lips grazing yours. It took you by surprise but you welcomed him in, Price watched as you let Ghost slip his tongue into your mouth. He felt you ease up but he didn’t release his hold. He liked the control. He pulled you back.

“Tell me what you want Tank?” Price was in your ear. You let out a sigh.

“Ghost…” you knew the answer was a risky one, but he had wound you up. Ghost looked at you a little smirk on his face, but he knew Price was in charge here still.

“Is that right?…fair enough…” Price slowly released his hold. You looked back…there must be a catch surely it wasn’t that easy? But not to look a gift horse in the mouth as soon as your hands were free they flew up to Ghost face, your thumbs running just under the edge of his mask testing your limits, his hands came up to rest on yours.

“Easy tiger haha” Ghost watched Price from the corner of his eye, what was he up to? Price jumped out of the ring and made his way over to his jacket pulling out a cigar and lighter. Really?

Ghost turned his attention back to you, he was going to make the most of this “free rein”. He gently pushed you back so you were lay flat pulling your shorts off in one quick move. Your underwear was soaked. It made him feral the thought of you getting off on being thrown around and pinned by you Captain and Lieutenant.

He lowered his head his mouth just a few inches from your centre making you scream internally, his hand kneading your inner thigh he lifted his head slightly to plant little kisses close to where his hand rested in between each kiss you could feel the faint nip of his teeth, as he got close he used his other hand to gently pull your underwear to the side. His warm breath caused your nerves to spark and fizz. The sight of you laid open for him made his mouth water like a sour sweet had been placed under his tongue. He noticed your hand fidgeting in anticipation so decide to lace his fingers with yours, his much larger hand nearly swallowing yours as he did he slowly licked a stripe up your core, savouring your taste, smoked honey mixed with salt…it drove him insane as he licked and sucked at your slit you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he pushed two fingers inside, you felt your walls clamping down on him and then came the familiar swell in your stomach. You turned your head locking eyes with Price his face mostly distorted by a cloud of thick cigar smoke, but you could just make out his sharp blue eyes.

The thought of Price watching you pushed you over the edge, he didn’t break eye contact as you came.

“Atta girl” the sound of praise from Price flooded your system just like his smoke filled your lungs. Even without touching you he could still cause a stir inside. He still had control. Ghost knew this but he didn’t care, he had you laid out, open for him to explore even if he had to share your attention.

He made his way up your body, taking you in as he did. He almost completely covered you, his body a shield. He had you caged underneath him his arm blocking you from Price’s view. He could see you looking for your Captain, but right now here you were under your Lieutenants command.

“Eyes on me…” he whispered as he undid his pants, pulling his cock out the weight of it resting on your opening. You were pinned under him but you watched his eyes as you managed to roll your hips up into him causing the head of his cock to slip over your clit.

“Fucking HELL” his eyes rolled back as you rolled your hips again for another pass. Ghost couldn’t take it anymore he hooked your legs over his thighs pulling you up as he did supporting you from underneath, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. He fisted his cock angling it at your core you were warm an inviting. You looked at him your eyes glossy an wet, you wanted him inside you here an now and you wanted Price to watch him have you. You both looked down to where you were almost joined.

“Ready?” Ghost drew back he knew from last time he had to take it slow allow you to adjust around him.

“Mhmm” you head felt foggy like the smoke from Prices cigar had clouded it. But the feeling of Ghost entering you cleared the fog like a wave, washing it away suddenly all your senses were filled with Ghost, his body heat, his smell cigarettes and mint all filled you up the feeling of his rough hands gripping your arse as you rocked back down onto him. You held on tight pushing yourself into him chest to chest. He could feel your heart racing he wanted you closer needed you closer if he could he would open his chest an keep you there.

His thrusts became rampant, rutting up into you the sounds echoing across the gym. Ghost could feel himself getting close an could tell you were as well by how your walls clung to him reluctant to let him pull out even an inch.

“Cum for me…” he lowered you back down onto the floor of the ring his pace only slowing slightly your legs still wrapped around his waist.

You felt the spring in your stomach coil up tight as Ghost buried his face in your neck.

“Are you gonna be a good girl an cum for your Lieutenant” he growled through gritted teeth into your neck. You turned you head to allow him to get deeper into your clavicle. As your eyes fluttered open you noticed Price was sat closer to the ring slouched and legs spread, cigar still in his mouth puffing away. A smirk on his face was he enjoying this? He knew you were looking for him, knew you needed to know he was watching you. He knew you needed his nod of approval to say you could be a good girl an cum and there it was subtle but it was there. You allowed yourself to fully be devoured by Ghost and swallowed whole, you took all of him in every nerve ending was alight and screaming his name an he knew it he could feel the difference in you, Ghost wanted to give you all of him willed you to take it he only asked for a fraction of you in return as he knew he could never have all of you but for a split second as he glanced down at you he felt like he did.

You both came at the same time you could feel the hot ropes of cum filling you as your bodies eased up. Your panting an moans filled the gym hall. Both trying to catch your breath a haze of lust and body heat surrounded you. Then out of the haze came Prices voice

“Hurry up an hit the showers, you still haven’t pinned me yet Tank…so don’t be thinking we are done for the night…”

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petite-gloom · 6 months

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your last post almost made me cry. i’m sorry if people have been making you feel like you’re not doing enough. being sick is a weird, weird mix of constantly proving to people you’re ill enough to need some kind of support, but also well enough to be able to do your own thing and be your own person (at least in my mind).

please be kind to yourself, especially this time of year is so hard for so many people. i’m very grateful for how real you are and always wish you every bit of success and encourage rest whenever you need it! there’s only one of you, so please keep being you! coz you’re kinda awesome.

yeah honestly you're spot on with the first paragraph- i guess because im as present as i am, because i make videos, make things, people maybe forget the reason i do it all- to carve a space for myself as a disabled person in a very inaccessible world, to document things because my memory and recollection is increasingly poor, to offer other people a little comfort through illustration because i know how badly it sucks to be looking for it and not find it. im lucky to be able to do these things but the same acceptance and grace isn't there when im communicating poorly, when im forgetful, when im misinterpreted, when i change my mind, when im behind on messages, etc. its really hard trying to balance reminding people that im disabled and often struggling v badly but also that i want a life and (some semblance of) independence, you're right.

its so shit sometimes because i don't want to make a spectacle of it all (hence why ive already deleted the post that you're talking about) but i also want to be honest about where im at, how im feeling, how my disabilities and chronic conditions are affecting me. i don't want to have to pretend that they're not. i want to make things and share things and i want to do it autistically. i want to be able to talk about how my symptoms relate to certain aspects of my craft, because everything in my life is dictated by and affected by and made in response to those symptoms, and it can all be really hard to manage, especially when i generally feel so disconnected from everything and everyone. its like im always somehow doing too much and not enough and its exhausting. im never on top of anything. everything is always taking too long and im always too tired.

i don't know where im going with this really but yeah. you worded that really well and i really agree. thank you for the reminders and kind words, i really appreciate it. really i do

#answers #i don't know how much sense im making here #but hopefully you know what i mean #not just other people forgetting but i forget why i started it all too #i guess i just wish social media didn't always have to be such a big part of it all so i could focus on the bits i care about (creating)

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airas-story · 6 months

Text

Got Your Back

“You know what,” Tony said, making a displeased face at the weird temple-thing that Stephen had brought them to. Stephen resisted telling him his face was going to get stuck that way. “This is not where I want to die.”

“We’re not going to die,” Stephen said, exasperated. “Though, even if we were, I promise you, I’ve died in worse places.”

Tony gave him one of those looks that made it clear that, while Tony loved him immeasurably, Stephen needed serious help.

Which sure, might be true, but Stephen was a very busy person. Sue him if getting help for his myriad of issues was not on his priority list.

No matter what Wong had to say about it. Wong could keep his opinions to himself.

“You really need to stop dying places,” Tony said bluntly. “Period. There’s no competition out there about who can die in the weirdest places or the most number of times. And if there were, I’m pretty sure you already won and are only competing with yourself at this point.”

Which, okay, might also be true. Didn’t mean Tony needed to point that out.

“I’ll work on it,” Stephen said noncommittally; it wasn’t his fault that there had been so many times when the best way to win involved dying. That and time loops were a thing that Stephen had made excellent use of.

He’d always been creative.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Tony said dryly. “It’s only your life on the line after all.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Stephen agreed. “So how about you leave me to worry about it. And if you’re worried about dying, then maybe you should sit this out.”

“You said that this was an Artificer’s Temple, and that you suspected they dabbled in mechanics,” Tony pointed out. “And that you might need a mechanic’s touch to disable any traps. So unless one of your fellow sorcerers has gone and gotten a PhD in engineering, I’m your best bet.”

He really was Stephen’s best bet, and Stephen knew it.

It was the only reason he was bringing Tony along anyways. He hated endangering Tony any more than he had to, especially since Tony was pretty much retired at this point—for now at least—his vision damaged in his right eye and his mechanical arm mostly untested. Though given that it had been a collaboration between Shuri and Tony, Stephen had no doubt that the arm was more than up for the task of anything Stephen could imagine.

Stephen focused back on the artificer temple that they had only discovered in their attempts to track Mordo. Ominous, he decided, would be a good description. The stone was pitch black and seemed to absorb the light around it, making the whole area feel dimmed and shadowed. It reeked of darkness that reminded Stephen of the dark dimension.

He glanced at Tony, reassuring himself that Tony was okay.

Tony must have felt his gaze, because he turned toward Stephen giving him a reassuring smile that only touched the left side of his face.

Burned or not, he was still the most beautiful, most precious man that Stephen had ever seen.

“Hey,” Tony reached out, taking his hand and giving it the softest of squeezes. “This is going to be fine. What’s a temple going to do, come alive and swallow us whole?”

Stephen groaned. “Thank you, Tony. You’ve now jinxed us. Because let’s face it, we both have the sort of luck that would include buildings trying to eat us.”

It was absolutely something that a talented enough artificer could pull off, that or a large enough group of artificers aimed at a larger purpose.

“Well, it would be an interesting way to go, at least,” Tony commented blithely. “So, what are we looking for anyways?” Tony asked, ignoring the comment about jinxing them. Tony was always good at ignoring things he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was almost impressive.

And no, Stephen wasn’t a hypocrite.

“Not sure,” Stephen admitted. “We just want to make sure that Mordo isn’t causing problems here.”

“Right. Your old mentor who decided it was time to steal the magic from everyone who doesn’t agree with him. Sounds like a great guy.”

Stephen flinched a little, there was still a part of him that felt a deep sting of betrayal at the thought of what Mordo was doing.

“That’s the one,” Stephen said, keeping his voice neutral. Tony winced and sent him an apologetic look. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to give him any more time to find ways to cause the rest of us problems than we have to.”

“After you, doc. I’ve got your back.”

Stephen smiled at him, this one genuine. “I know you do.”

#ironstrange #fic #tony stark #stephen strange

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yuribeam · 11 months

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my family’s disabled. EDS and tethered cord confirmed in some but everyone has roughly the same progression of symptoms. my mom and sibling have already had tethered cord release surgery and we’re in the process of looking at my spine.

im in the process of figuring out what’s normal and what’s not, how to identify sensations, how to take care of myself, how to cope with a body that works less and less. i am also autistic, so for me, that means identifying specific feelings and sensations can be difficult

so earlier today i was woken up from a nap by my mom telling me she’s leaving for dinner with my stepdad. im always down for pad thai so i get myself up, together, and out the door in about five minutes. which is not really enough time to assess how my body is feeling, which is difficult for me anyway.

before dinner im already feeling a little lightheaded and clammy and i figure i just need to eat, which i do, and it is in fact worse. i excuse myself for the restroom, thinking it’s because my stomach’s been weird, don’t feel better. silently rushing my mom to wrap up chatting with my family bc i feel like i need to be home. make it home, curl up on the recliner, feel some sharp pains along my spine, watch a little star trek, eat some leftovers, yknow

then my mom comes into my room before bed and says that she recognized how i was feeling at dinner. cold but feeling overheated, clammy, pale, almost a bit dizzy, hungry but not hungry, needing to put my head in my hands and shift around, uncomfortable but unable to pinpoint what's wrong. she says, i've felt like that a lot too, for decades, and i always think did i eat enough protein did i drink enough did i do something wrong to trigger something i can’t recognize, and actually?

i think it’s just pain.

which is currently kind of blowing my mind a bit to realize, that although i know people with chronic pain will not recognize their pain the same as able bodied people

i am more likely to feel the side effects of pain than the pain itself

put another way, i am experiencing my body reacting to pain whether or not i feel more or less than usual of what i think of as pain (sharp, shooting, twinge, spasm, pointy ache..).

I thought of general pain or the constant background pain as just a low ache that maybe comes with some stiffness and soreness, but I am feeling it through other senses and manifestations as well

so im really rethinking about how to recognize and predict and categorize and classify pain. it made me think of the emotions wheel, which you probably recognize a version of if you’ve had therapy

and i think something like this with words for physical sensations like restless, queasy, tight, collapsible, unsteady, foggy, tensed, and probably better words i’m not thinking of, would be a helpful start to identify how to communicate what is going on with my body

is this relatable to anyone? how do you recognize and communicate feelings in your body that you’ve gotten used to but are not medically “normal”? what words would you put on the sensation wheel?

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crippledcherry · 1 year

Text

I was harassed by a police officer today for existing as a disabled person.

You don’t really think about these things happening until they happen to you. I have multiple invisible illnesses, three of which are heart conditions. I have a permanent handicap placard because of these illnesses. I am also a woman in her young 20s.

I don’t go out very often, but when I do need to go to a store, I use my handicap tag whenever I can. It’s not uncommon for my heart rate to get very high and erratic just from walking around a store. I become very symptomatic and feel faint a lot of the times. I use it for my own safety and for some sense of independency.

Today, I went Christmas shopping for my siblings. I used my handicap tag. I have had it for almost a year now so I’m used to the mean looks and comments from complete strangers because I’m young and I don’t look sick from the outside. I knew I didn’t have many spoons and needed to save the few I did have for in the store and to make it home.

By the time I got back to my car, my heart rate was high and I was having palpitations and feeling faint. Usually if I need to give myself some time before driving, I’ll pull out of the handicap spot and park somewhere else so it’s available for anyone else who needs it. I couldn’t even do that today. I couldn’t even connect my music, I had to just sit down and focus on my breathing and try to get my heart rate to break.

I hadn’t been sitting there for even five minutes when I heard a loud pounding on my window. I looked up and saw a police officer. I rolled down my window and before I even had the chance to ask what was going on, he demanded to see proof that the handicap tag belonged to me. Didn’t ask if I was okay. I was alone, afraid, and felt like my heart was a fish flip flopping in my chest. I was very confused and he repeated himself very aggressively and said if I did not show proof then he would have to ticket me. I told him that I have heart conditions, it IS my handicap tag, it was prescribed by my doctor, and asked what I could show him as proof. He demanded to see my drivers license and then said, “unless you don’t have one.” I told him everything I was doing, reaching over to grab my purse, reaching in to grab my wallet, all while he went on a tangent about how he could arrest me right then and there if he wanted to. I showed him my drivers license and when he saw that my name matched the initials on my tag, he simply said “okay” and walked away.

He did not approach anybody else in a handicap spot. There was somebody in the spot directly in front of me who was eating lunch while occupying the handicap spot. I made sure that he didn’t go harass them as well, but he just walked away and didn’t approach anybody else. I was so shaken up that I didn’t think to get his name or badge number so I can’t even file a formal complaint.

The only thing that I can think of is that I am a young woman who doesn’t look sick. I was afraid, embarrassed, and felt degraded.

There are so many forms of ableism that you don’t even have to imagine until it happens to you. All I can think about is how many other disabled people have had experiences like this?

Living with a disability is hard enough on its own — we don’t need strangers, or especially law enforcement, to make it harder.

#disability #disabled #ableism #invisible disability #invisible illness #chronically ill #chronic illness #chronic pain #dysautonomia #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #ehlers danlos #ehlers danlos syndrome #spoonie #potsie #actually disabled

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