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inkskinned · 1 year

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im gonna start a fight; and, at the same time, i need you to take this in the most good-faith way possible, but:

videos that involve body-checking and intentionally (and uncritically) show a mealplan of an unhealthy number of calories are just a revamped version of pro-ana food diaries.

and yeah, i know there's arguments. i address some of them under the cut. but at the end of the day, we're just coming back to romanticizing mental illness; we've just found a better platform for it.

this is already something we've done. we knew it was wrong and tried to stop it. and tbh. it just wasn't enough.

there are people who argue "well, what if you have an eating disorder, you can't help it if you don't eat!" except that as someone with an ED; we are not infants. we know what we're doing. part of having an ED is that you are like, maybe too self-aware. even if we can't help our own food choices, we don't need to fucking romanticize the disorder - something we've been warning you about since 2013. there are hours of setup, filming, and editing that go into these videos. they do not happen to fall into place randomly. there is a reason they are pieced together to be beautiful, bright, inspiring.

there's this woman who pretty much only posts daily plans under a normal amount of calories, and everyone defends her saying but it's better than nothing! and i'm like. except she opens those with images of her showing off her body and provides no context in the video or caption that suggests that she believes what she's doing is unhealthy. she has hundreds of thousands of followers on a platform designed for young kids and teens. i refuse to believe that by accident her content just happens to be cheery advice on "healthy" versions of starving.

for any other symptom of mental illness, we would be incredibly enraged by this kind of placid acceptance of a "tips and tricks" fast-start guide. imagine if people posted pink & pretty videos saying "best places to cut yourself" as if it was a fucking storytime. we, as a society, are so fucking fatphobic that we would rather accept blatantly harmful displays of self harm than admit that we are obsessed with a hyper-thin body type.

i am not suggesting someone never talks about their disorder. i talk about mine. actually, it's a plot point in my book.

here's the difference: i recognize it's a fucking mental illness. i am very careful to never mention a specific weight, eating pattern, or calorie plan. i always make sure to position it as something that ruined my fucking life. i do not put cheery music in the background and hearts and sparkles over my worst moments. i do not film it in bright light. i do not start each passage with an image of a thin body followed by "here's how to look like her."

eating disorders should not be framed as aspirational. and the problem is that society worships the "after" image, so long as you don't get too sick. there is a reason so many people who quit being "influencers" will later admit - i wasn't eating well that whole time; an obsession with food was completely destroying my life.

we let any uncredited, uncertified person write the most backwards, fucked up shit about how to get the body you desire! because the underlying, secret belief is: well, at least they're thin! and the real thing that fucking gets me each time - they make fucking money off of it. their irresponsibility and societal harm literally pays off for them.

"why do you care so much." "don't like it don't look." "so what if people experiment with new ways of thinking of food?"

thank you for asking. we're about to get extremely personal. it's because when i was 18 i discovered "thinspiration"/"thinspo." and it absolutely influenced, shaped, and codified my pre-existing eating disorder. i went from having some troubling habits and traits to being incredibly unwell within what felt like a matter of days. there were actual pages designed to train me on how to have an ED correctly. it was all so suddenly easy. i was sick; and the nature of the illness meant - i wanted to be sicker.

it takes an average of 7 years for a person to fully recover. i know this personally - even now, 10 years from the worst of it, i still fucking struggle. i am so much happier now and i eat what i want and i literally don't think about food at all (19 year old me would shudder) and yet - i still fucking know the calories of plain toast with butter.

an eating disorder is one of the deadliest types of mental illness. over 1 in 4 people with an ED will attempt suicide.

and i'm sorry. i just do not see the exchange rate of "high rate of engagement" versus "the value of a human life."

#and there's something else in there about like ....#tbh once i got over something like 1k followers #i stopped being specific about my ED for a REASON.#yes on ur personal locked blog that u use like a diary go ahead etc #but we are OBVIOUSLY not talking about that. we're talking about the sheer NUMBER of people i could be talking about #in that one paragraph. that you and i probably were thinking about 2 different influencers #bc they get to say that they're just posting FITNESS and if it's FITNESS it's OKAY and im like #jesus christ lord almighty #every person in recovery from an ED: this is incredibly dangerous holy shit do you know how much this would have triggered me #each of these ppl: how dare you!!!!!!!!! i am only harming those who WANT to engage with my content!!!!!#their followers: leave them alone !!! they can't help that they make an hours-long choice to frame their disorder as if it was #fucking cottagecore !!!!#like girlie this person needs THERAPY #again! i didn't even have that large of a following before i IMMEDIATELY deleted any specific mention of calories food etc #bc i recognize responsibility and i didnt EVER want to even ACCIDENTALLY encourage this #and im not even GETTING PAID FOR THIS!!!#aND THEY ARE!!!#something something something they know this content makes them money #they don't give a SHIT about u babe

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flowerflowerflo · 1 month

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that one artist who's been with you through everything >>>>>

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danandfuckingjonlmao · 2 years

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klaus hargreeves hearing three (3) symptoms of a disorder from a child that he just met and coming to the conclusion that he definitely has it is a mentally ill mood

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hexplaything · 6 months

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✨the big princess disorder makes me unable to hold back from putting sparkles on my own ass ✨they/them

#yeah maybe i'm hiding how insecure i am about my ass with sparkles. maybe so.#it's called coping. what else can you expect from a disordered princess like myself #jester.jpg #also yes this used to be my old pfp DO not say anything about it.

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lesbian-honey-lemon · 4 months

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Autism advocacy YouTubers are cool and all but honestly I find it hard to listen or care about most of them. Like sure, they’re probably very helpful to lots of people in the community, but also NONE of them seem to be able to talk about autistics who aren’t high masking high empathy and low support needs.

They keep going on and on about the social model of disability, that autism isn’t inherently a disability, which is literally SO insulting to medium and high support needs autistics whose lives are severely impacted by autism. Or they’ll talk about how it’s just neurotypicals who don’t understand us when part of AUTISM is not being able to communicate well with ANYONE, other autistics included! We’re not some mythical species, we’re disabled humans with a developmental and communication disability.

Also when it comes to low support needs autistics, they only EVER talk about masking and high empathy and all that. What about the LSN autistics who don’t mask well or can’t mask, what about the hell they go through because no matter how hard they try they can’t fake being neurotypical well enough. What about the low empathy LSN autistics, what about their struggles and how they’re treated as lesser humans for not feeling other people’s emotions. What about the LSN autistics who are still impacted in negative ways by their autism, who don’t see their autism as entirely positive, who see it (correctly) as a disability and not a ‘difference’.

They never talk about any autistics outside of the narrow cutesy and palatable worldview they put online. The world outside of plushies and hyperempathy and memes and beige food and shit like that which while great for some lighthearted content still does nothing for the many, many autistics who aren’t like that. It still does nothing but represent the small percentage of autistics who exactly fit that type of autism in a cutesy, internet-friendly way while leaving the rest of us ‘bad, stereotypical autistics’ to rot.

I want a low empathy low masking autism advocacy YouTuber who maybe knows what it’s like to go through my type of autism. Or a MSN/HSN advocate with a whole different take on autism than what’s being spread online by LSNs. Sadly we’re not cutesy and nice enough for the online world..

#also I DO NOT get the autism community’s deal with plushies #like yes they’re cute I have some of my own but still..#maybe it’s the low empathy but I do not feel attached to any of them #enough reacting to TikToks and more conversation about how low empathy autistics have been shoved out of our own community #autism #actually autistic #autism spectrum disorder #asd #actually low empathy #low empathy autism

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system-of-a-feather · 8 months

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FYI when it comes to trauma processing, sometimes one of the healthiest and productive decisions you can make is to ACTIVELY choose to avoid and not address an issue right now even if you "should"

Its easy to get caught in the "talk about it, use therapy productively, if you aren't doing anything, you aren't Doing Anything" and, while compulsive habitual avoidance typically causes temporary stagnation, ACTIVE acknowledgement that you are CHOOSING to ignore it and avoid it because you are CHOOSING to give yourself space and time is such a fundamental skill to emotional awareness, self regulation, self compassion, and rebuilding trust within yourself to maintain your own boundaries even when you feel that you "should" ignore them

Actively choosing to not address a topic at the moment is good practice at saying "I am not ready and I need more time and for that reason I am going to actively refuse to engage in this topic at the current moment" which helps so immensely at being more mindful of your own needs and emotional states which can be hard as someone with C-PTSD

Sometimes the best and most healing thing you can do for yourself is Nothing.

#alter: riku #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #c-ptsd #ptsd #subtext: yes I am also writing this to justify to myself my active decision to pettily and needlessly #avoid talking about something i should in therapy #cause it is petty and small and not mentioning it - while “not productive” and “being resistant to treatment” - is relatively #harmless and annoying at best #so.... yeah im making that active decision cause i need that time #so imma take it

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aintgonnatakethis · 6 months

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whenever i see the view of 'always be 100% honest with the medical professionals providing you with healthcare' i just... how much privilege do you have to have to not see the pitfalls with that statement?

i understand 'always tell first responders what drugs you've taken'. but when it comes down to trans healthcare or people who're disabled or have "scary" mental health conditions. do you really think being honest the entire time is safe?

#the specific post that prompted this was about being honest about your mental illnesses/neurodivergences with gender clinics #buddy i am in a country where if i pursued an autism diagnosis they could just decide BANG no more hormones for you!#i've been taught by other people with chronic pain on the exact language to use with doctors so i get the pain meds i need #i once confided in a therapist that i had a voice in my head that i'd been hearing since i was around 8-9 #they asked me 'does he tell you to do things?'#the truth was yes but you can bet your ass i said no because these people aren't your fucking friends #please just be *safe* i am begging you #trans #transgender #chronic pain #chronic illness #bipolar disorder #actually bipolar #actuallyautistic #mine

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cosmicangsts · 2 months

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a 3 year toxic & abusive friendship just ended y'all! he literally got mad at me for spending MY money i set aside ages ago for something i wanted ( acheron ) & today msged me an ultimatum about our friendship while putting me down, expecting me to piss shit & cry & i DIDN'T & instead stood my ground & called him out on being a controller who doesn't see me as a person with a savior complex so he DIPPED! ♡ ( not without the classic ' i'm sorry u feel that way ' & ' caring for my friend is NOT a savior complex ' & making it all about himself u best believe it was OUTSTANDING but i literally don't care i've cried so much over u )

if the new trend is a breakup at the start of every year & it means decluttering my life of incessant negativity, then honestly i am HERE FOR IT

#🏏 ( ooc . )#FREE. FREE LIKE A CYBERBIRD #throwback to about 2 months ago #him: have u gotten to the spot in zelda yet #me: no i been cooking and running around unlocking my map and collecting stuff #him: even after i went through all that trouble making a roadmap for you? it's almost like you enjoy PISSING ME OFF.#( me silently crying on the phone )#a real exchange we had over totk bc i wouldnt play the game the way he wanted me to #and ran around for like fifty hours without advancing the plot LOL #yes this is also the friend i mentioned meeting irl who made me miserable #had me crying in the street over a pastry #he just became a very mean person. he's no longer who i met #he's undiagnosed bipolar disorder it's very apparent to me and everyone around him #his sister and i literally discussed it when i went to meet him in person bc she saw how fucking miserable i was #and he's told me before he can't keep friendships so yeah. he is the common denominator here

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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 7 months

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Dog Days Are Over

Summary: The Reader is struggling with severe depression, and Alec Hardy comforts her.

A/N: inspired by one of @denaliwrites Alec stories! This one made me cry several times while writing it, it’s pretty much my experience minus Alec (unfortunately.)

TW: talk of severe depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, body dysmorphia, and not beta read because it was hard to write

She sat on the couch, curled up in a corner while 'The Office' continued playing on the telly. She'd been mindlessly scrolling on her phone all day, not really noticing anything on there but not wanting to look away from a screen. Then she might see the real world for all it was, and today wasn't the time for that.

Y/N glanced at Michael Scott as he put on a stupid hat to impress some stupid friend of Pam's. She felt a tension in her shoulders, along her back and arms, but she tried to ignore it. Tried to bury herself amongst the blankets and pillows of the couch. It wasn't working, why wasn't it working?

She adjusted her pillows, and nothing. She got bored of the Instagram reels that always turned into mommy bloggers she didn't like to see. The telly grew louder and she suddenly found Michael Scott bordering on obnoxious and not funny. The room was so goddamn warm in there but she knew she couldn't change from her comfy clothes because she didn't want to wear a bra. If she changed into something remotely hugging her figure, she'd feel as though she had to wear a bra and start the day. It was so fucking stupid the way her brain was wired.

She tried to ignore it.

Then she got a sudden pang of guilt, a feeling that was brewing at the surface but she tried to shove down. She worried that everyone at work would absolutely hate her for not coming in. That they'd know she was lying about being sick and think she was a terrible worker, that she didn't provide anything, she was incompetent and slow and everyone was wondering why she couldn't get her fucking act together. She worried that when she wasn't there they'd be saying awful things. How stupid she was, how needy and desperate for attention and validation and pathetic.

The voices came whirring at her. She hadn't even realized they'd been speaking this entire time until they all started screaming at her. The voices battered like a ram, tore through her chest, attacking and spitting venomous words. Her lungs seemed to recede inside her, clenching for an oxygen that wasn't there. Suddenly her vision was blurring, hiccups came bursting from her lips in broken sobs and she could feel that heaviness in her chest like her heart was going to explode. She couldn't breathe with that weight, there was no oxygen. Y/N felt as though her skin was itchy and thin and it just wouldn't come off. If she could tear it all off to make it go away she would.

The loudest voice screamed out, "Everyone hates you! You are the worst human to exist and we wish you would just die already!" Her fingers buried in her hair, holding the roots tightly and her cheeks were burning hot. She wanted to scream but didn't have the energy. The voice kept screaming and screaming, "they hate you, they hate you, they hate you! You're the worst person ever!"

And it's all true, that's the most despicable part. She believed every foul thing that voice said was right in the truest sense of the word. No logic could stop her brain from believing that she was stupid and slow and incompetent.

She believed all the things they said, that she was fat and ugly, and her nose wasn't right, her skin wasn't right, her stomach was horrendous, she could never be beautiful or sexy or smart. She ruined every chance she had for it, and one day Alec was going to see how horrific she was and he'd flee. He'd spout viscous things and they would be right. She deserved all of it and worse. There was no man that deserved the hell she provided, she was the worst it could get.

Then she kept chiding herself, trying to stop this delusion she was building in her mind. She'd say, Y/N, that's not fair, you've worked on this. Y/N, you're on medication, this shouldn't be how you think. You're better now. Y/N, talk yourself out of it. Y/N, you're jumping to conclusions. And all the while she's sinking and building evidence to false realities. She wonders if she's insane, if she should be locked up then has to remind herself she's not Joe Miller. But a wicked part of her wishes she was, so these feelings would be justified.

There was no way to explain this to friends and family. No way to explain that this was her thoughts almost all the time, and the times she wasn't thinking like this it was lying low. But it never left. But everyone had depression these days, she wasn't unique. And if everyone else could live, then surely she could to.

She retracted her fingers from her hair, prying off the strands that came with it. Her cheeks were still painfully hot but she wiped the tears away. Michael Scott was still doing something stupid on the telly, and she had her phone on her lap. She wanted to call Alec. He'd said to call if she felt anything, said he wanted to be there for her. But wouldn't this be a burden? Wouldn't he find her repulsive after this? Not want to deal with it. She didn't want to either. She didn't want to deal with this anymore, she was so tired. And surely Alex's life would be easier with one less person to deal with? With one less mess to clean up, no worrying about her.

But it was those thoughts that forced her to call him. She knew that those thoughts were bad, that those thoughts led to bad things. And though she was humiliated, wanted to hide away from him, she knew it was for him she had to call. He'd be so hurt if she left. He'd blame himself, and that wasn't fair.

"Darlin?" His voice filled the silence.

Her breath shuddered and she sniffled like a baby, "Alec."

"What's happened?" His voice was stern, alert. With that one word he sensed that she wasn't okay.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing."

She let out a pathetic laugh, "no, Alec. I don't want you to worry."

"I'll be there in 15." Then he hung up. She gaped at the phone. Y/N didn't want Alec to see her like this, so broken and battered. He didn't deserve this.

Her heart started to race and she treated every sound as a threat. She looked horrible, she was certain her breath stank and her cheeks were flushing and her hair was going every which way. She looked fat and greasy, her clothes had stains. Oh God, oh God.

The door opened with no preamble. She shut her eyes and waited for him to yell, to be furious that there was no true emergency. It's not like she'd cut herself. There were footsteps and then the couch beside her dipped, but she felt no touch.

"Darlin?" Alec spoke softly, his accent sliding through her flat. Michael Scott seemed a distant image. "Are you alright?"

She didn't want to open her eyes. As childish as it was, she felt that if she didn't seem him then the issue was resolved. "I'm fine."

There was a pause, "May I see your beautiful eyes?"

With a shaky breath, she peaked through her lashes at Alec. He was sat beside her, brows furrowed in concern as he looked at her. His coat had raindrops on it, his hair mused and looking like chocolate. His beard needed to he shaved but she hated when he did. And in those stupid, beautiful brown eyes, she saw a love so raw and unconditional she couldn't stand it.

Tears fell down her cheeks and her hands went back to her hair. She could feel herself retreating, curling into a hall and away from the world that hated her. But Alec was so soft.

"Darlin, can I touch you?"

She whimpered a yes.

Warm, calloused hands came to her own in her hair. The touch was not harsh, yet it wasn't shy either. Alec wanted to love Y/N and keep her safe, even if it meant from herself. He brought them down, holding them firmly. Then he lifted her chin so she would look at him. Her lips began to quiver.

"How long has it been since you've showered?"

The question caught her off guard. She'd expected him to pry into what she was feeling and tell her why all of it was wrong and he loved her. Which was incredibly sweet, but would have hurt her so much. She'd feel like a burden. But this wasn't what she anticipated. "Uh, um, a few days."

"Do you care to take a shower with me?" He smiled, his Scottish accent lilting the words. "I need one from the rain."

She nodded nimbly. Alec got up from the sofa first, then helped her up though she didn't need it. They walked to her bedroom, where Alec went through her drawers to find a clean pair of underwear and pajamas. She felt her heart smile when he pulled one of his shirts she'd stolen as her top. He had his own pair kept in her drawers as well.

Alec walked softly as he went and turned the shower on, letting the water patter against the tile.

"Y/N, do you think we could take your dirty clothes off?" Alec asked, letting the tiniest of smiles cross his face. She'd learned to cherish that look, because it wasn't one many got. But right now, she felt selfish for getting to see it when she didn't earn it. Y/N nodded.

He helped take off her pajamas, each piece with care and precision. She felt like she was a wounded animal he was bringing back to life. That guilt forged its way in her heart. Alec placed a hand on her hip, the other on the back of her neck. Though she was naked, and he was about to be, it wasn't sexual in nature. It was intimate, and loving. Alec's voice was rough as he grumbled out, "Now you stop that bad thought. I love you as you are."

Her lips parted and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, she hadn't said a word. But Alec just pressed a kiss to her forehead. Soon they were both naked and they got into the steaming shower. Alec let her stand under the warmth, hands stroking her sides in ginger caresses. He was just appreciating her as she was.

Alec couldn't pretend to understand exactly what went through Y/N's head. It wouldn't be fair to her. But he did know that he loved her deeply, and that no matter what he'd stay with her. If she didn't know who she was, he would remind her if only for a moment to be with her.

With his long, dexterous fingers, he washed Y/N's hair. She stood awkwardly, letting it rain over her. It felt nice. The little pelts of hot water had a steady rhythm, only interrupted by Alec’s kind hands massaging her scalp. She felt the tears slip down her face in steady streams, but didn’t bother to hide them.

Alec quickly shampooed his own hair, then took his time with the body wash to take care of Y/N. He lavished her but in the most sincere way a person could. No agenda, just making sure that with each part of her body he cleaned that she knew he loved her. And she did, she knew he loved her more than anything. That’s what made it so hard.

The water ran lukewarm and Alec got out quickly to wrap a big, fluffy towel around her. He helped dry her with the towel, helped her into her pajamas.

“You want braids, love?”

“You know how to braid?” Her voice sounded so small. Alec nodded and parted her wet hair, french braiding it out of her way. His fingers were nimble.

“Come on, darling, let us get something to eat.”

Alec walked with her down the stairs, going into her fridge until he found some ingredients to make omelets, which he knew she liked. With gentle hands, Alec came and placed Y/N on the counter so she could be right there as he made the food.

“Cheese?”

“Yes please.”

It was a quiet sort of appreciation with Alec. Y/N could tell he wanted to blurt out his love but this quiet approach, this simply taking care of her, hit a part of her heart she didn’t know it would hit. She could feel her soul opening just slightly. He couldn’t fix her, that wasn’t how this worked, but she could feel him loving her.

He helped down from the counter and brought the plates to the sofa. Alec put on a different sitcom, gave her the plate, and settled in.

After a pause where she stared at the plate and wondered the different ways she could jump off the earth, she said, “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’d like to,” he said with a bite of omelet.

“I don’t want you to stay.” The words were harsh, and untrue, but the humiliation of being this way made her angry. She wanted to lash out at him if it could only take away from the pain in her heart.

“Tough luck, darling. I’m here to stay.”

That was when the sob broke out. A deep, heart wrenching sob that make the plate fall to the floor, carpet covered in a cheesy omelet he had just made for her. Y/N covered her mouth as though the sounds would stop but they didn’t.

Alec came and scooped her up, letting her rest on his lap, head on his shoulder. He hummed just slightly, hands running comforting strokes on her body, lips kissing her forehead.

“You don’t deserve this,” she hiccuped. “You don’t deserve this mess.”

Alec looked down and grabbed her chin, forcing him to look at her. “Y/N, you listen to me. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t choose to have depression, you didn’t choose it.”

“But you can choose. You need to leave, you deserve-”

“I want you. I want you, Y/N. I don’t care about this, we’ll fight it together.”

“Why do you want this? I’m broken.”

He brought her hand and let it rest on his heart, above his scar. “So am I, Darlin. You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive.”

She cried softly onto Alec, and he held her all the same. It didn’t get better like that, but it seemed to help cement something in Y/N. Alec wasn’t going anywhere, and she wasn’t alone. The dog days will be over, and the horses will come. Alec kissed her forehead and held her close.

#my loves in broadchurch #i’m happy the 12 of you who read broadchurch fics will enjoy this #broadchurch #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy fanfic #alec hardy i love you #alec hardy #alec Hardy is the sweetest #this was hard to write #this is basically my experience so please don’t hate on the feelings cause they’re mine teehee #sorry if this is too much #yes I have a mood disorder I don’t wanna talk about it #alec hardy fanfiction #Fanfiction #broadchurch fanfiction

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butchniqabi · 1 year

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Even when I was writing other beautiful things with other beautiful words, it lived there in between the spaces left behind. In every margin, in every gap betwixt words and breath between two letters’ kiss. It was a slow thing. Slow enough to surprise only me. The ghosts which gather and dance under the moonlight in naught but their metaphysical skins are not creatures I’ve buried. And yet, all of them came for me. I am the progenitor of their grief, they say, their creator and their tormentor and their savior and the one who whispers soft lessons into their ears. I am the one who knocks and the one who responds. I ask the question before answering it. I tell a secret and keep it safe. But I too am the one who spreads it to the other children on the playground. I pull ponytails and feel the pain in my scalp. I kick a man when he’s down and bruises appear on my stomach. And I cannot hold séances, nor can I turn back time. Even as I walked backwards towards Constantinople, I knew I would only ever end up in the streets of Istanbul. And as I wandered the city, crying for the lost Byzantines, a million wonders passed me by.

One Year Free, One Month Changed by Amatullah Bourdon

#my writing #poetry #um. hiiiiiiiiiii #this is my informal bipolar disorder poem...#inspired by joanie and jacqui germain #it makes sense right now but we'll see about tomorrow #(and yes it is okay to rb hehe)#also the constantinople reference has an origin in an old project. i just liked the phrase and repurposed it hehehe

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hazel2468 · 11 months

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“Inaccessibility has a massive impact on disabled people, especially people with mobility issues and those who use aids like canes, walkers, wheelchairs, service animals, etc. and these things are often ignored and should not be and you are right to be angry about it.”

And

“Even within the disabled community, there is a disgusting amount of dismissal and yes, ableism directed at people who have needs related to mental illness/mental disorders- to the point that other disabled people will refer to those of us with invisible disabilities, chronic illness, and mental disorders as abled and tell us that our needs are lesser and that is not okay.”

Are statements that must co-exist.

#disability #actually disabled #like i have disabilties that limit my ability to move and get around #and also mental disorders #and i a HATING IT that I am seeing like #ofher disabled people being like #’no one cares about your sensory needs’#’attention deficit isn’t a disability try being REALLY disabled’#like guys cut it the fuck out #if you are mad at a lack of accessibility- AND YOU SHOULD BE #idk how to tell you that other disabled people aren’t your fucking enemy #my mobility isn’t severely limited all the time no #but i have chronic pain and breathing issues made worse by covid #that mean on Bad Days? stairs ain’t happening #and 90% of where i live becomes inaccessible #and thats for ME so like #yes be mad about tht you are right to be #but fucking stop acting like other disabilties aren’t as disabling #just because they are disabling in different ways #they impact us differently yes but we’re all disabled in some way #and putting down people who you think aren’t disabled enough?#fucking stop it

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quitealotofsodapop · 11 days

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Downside of creating fanwork for an on-going series; my ass is anxious to develop it further until canon updates

#writing #my aus #yes this is about LMK #i have an anxiety disorder

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cookies-over-yonder · 10 months

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i don't know how to say this, 'cause you're really my dearest friend

Five times Taylor and Link almost kissed, and one time they finally did.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 | ao3

[title from Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers]

1. The first time was after a fall.

☆

Taylor Swift is no stranger to coordination issues.

He manages to work his way around them with extra practice of wielding weapons, but sometimes it sneaks up on him.

Like right now.

Seemingly having tripped over nothing, Taylor falls forward and braces himself for impact.

The floor of Link's house is wooden, so Taylor can't even console himself by the idea of falling onto carpet. How did he slip? He doesn't know. It just happens. Sometimes no amount of training and practicing can prevent the air from sabotaging him.

And he knows it will hurt, because the floor is hard and it always hurts. It always hurts, but he recovers. But before he recovers, he's going to faceplant. He scrunches his face up, ready to hit the ground.

But then he stays suspended in the air.

"Are you okay?"

Taylor opens his eyes. Link is holding him by the arms and scanning his face with wide eyes.

Wide eyes… that are so close to his face.

Taylor feels a rush of heat coursing through him as he runs his gaze down Link's worried face, stopping at his lips.

They're pressed tightly together in concern, and then they're open, and saying something…

And Link is breathing, and Taylor can feel it on his face.

And Link says his name, and with the way the syllables sound on his tongue, Taylor feels like he's been put under a spell.

Hypnotized.

Enchanted.

And he says it again, and it's just as mesmerizing as before.

They're so close together. Only a sliver of space prevents them from making contact.

There's one thought plaguing Taylor's mind and making him feel like he could melt.

What it would feel like to close that gap…

Taylor finds his body moving without his permission, chasing the pull of Link's lips like a magnet.

"Taylor!" Link shouts, and Taylor's shoulders are shaking. Link is shaking them.

"Hu—uh… yeah?" Taylor asks, dazed. The gap is wider now—Link must have made him stand upright.

"I asked if you were okay and you didn't respond," Link's lips move fast. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

Taylor's face burns.

"I—uh, I'm fine—" he winces at the way his voice cracks. "Sorry. Thanks."

"You should sit down," Link says, guiding him to the couch, hands still on his shoulders. "I'll get you some water."

"Mm, yeah," Taylor says, only half-processing Link's words because his hands are still on his shoulders…

Once Link sits Taylor down and leaves his side to get water, Taylor buries his face in his hands. God, he really is burning.

"Here," Link says, sitting next to him. Taylor lifts his head and sees a glass of water being held out to him. He takes a sip.

"Thanks. Sorry, didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's fine, I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay. I have coordination problems sometimes. That's why I tripped. I'm not gonna faint or anything."

Probably not, he thinks. With the way Link is looking at him, nothing is off the table.

"Okay. Just… drink some water," Link says, and Taylor takes a sip. "You look really red."

Taylor chokes.

"Slowly," Link adds, patting Taylor's back as he coughs up water.

"Yep," Taylor says between coughs. "Got it."

Oh, god.

☆

#dndads #swiftli #fic #5+1 #taylor swift dndads #lincoln li-wilson #yes im giving taylor all of my disabilities including my motor skills disorder LMFAOOO #cuteness of them #this chapter is p short #i'm really excited about this fic though #shout out to happi for helping me brainstorm :)#^_^♡☆~!#cookies writes and cookies wrongs

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