#and if this can make me pain free... maybe i might not need the wheelchair anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

traveler-at-heart · 14 days

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The Doctor's In

Summary: Billy Maximoff sustains an injury and Wanda comes to you, her neighbour who happens to be an ER doctor.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

For @esposadejoyhuerta - hope this week is better to us <3

Tired.

That’s all you are. You don’t even know how you manage to get home, dragging your feet through the door and dropping your bag next to the couch.

Sleep or eat?

You look between the kitchen and sofa, and the view of the cushions and the blanket you left there is far more attractive than the prospect of food.

Sleep it is.

Dropping face first on the couch, you sigh, excited at the idea of sleeping for the next few hours, until your next shift at the hospital.

You close your eyes, and don’t know how long you’ve been asleep until a desperate knock wakes you.

“Who is it?” you say, scared by the sudden noise.

“It’s Wanda”

You relax instanty, sighing with relief. Though you don’t speak regularly to your neighbours, Wanda is by far the nicest.

“Is everything ok?” as soon as you open the door, you can see her disheveled state and the fear in her eyes. “Wanda, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Billy had a little accident in the stairs and he’s in pain, I didn’t know what to do and remembered you’re a doctor”

“Come on” you let her lead the way, opening the door. As soon as you enter you can hear Billy’s cries and Tommy by his side. The boy is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, holding his right arm.

“Hey, Billy. Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It hurts” is all he manages to say.

“May I examine you? You can tell me if it hurts a lot or only a little, yes?”

The boy nods, trying to calm down as you inspect his arm. At a certain movement, he flinches, and you sigh, turning to Wanda.

“He needs an X-Ray”

“Ok, I’ll take him now”

“Why don’t I drive you?” you say, thinking it might be dangerous for Wanda to get behind the wheel when she’s in so much distress. The woman nods, and you help Billy up, making sure he doesn’t move his arm.

Wanda sits with both boys in the back of your car, her hands going through Billy’s hair to calm him down.

“Sorry about the mess” you say, looking at all the junk you had in your car.

“It’s alright” she says, looking a bit more relaxed. “I’m sorry for making you drive us, you must be exhausted”

“I don’t mind at all”

You look through the rearview mirror, Wanda smiling softly and you return the gesture, feeling a bit flustered.

“I thought I told you to go home” Chief Fury says as soon as you walk through the ER.

“Uh… my neighbour’s kid got into an accident so”

“Alright, then” his threatening glare softens as soon as his eyes land on the woman walking behind you and her two kids, Billy in a wheelchair.

“He needs an X-Ray, I didn’t see signs of a concussion or any other injuries”

“Admit him, get vitals and go to imaging. Ma’am, you can wait here while Dr. Y/L/N checks on your son”

“Can’t I go with him?”

“I’m afraid not”

“It’s alright, I won’t leave him alone” you squeeze her hand, pushing Billy to the X-ray room.

Luckily it’s empty when you walk in, the technician setting everything up quickly.

“I thought your shift ended” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders.

“Shit happens”

Billy laughs and your eyes widen, forgetting you were around a child.

“Uh, maybe don’t tell your mom I said that, kid?”

“Hey, don’t do it for free. Get something in return for your silence” Darcy intervenes and you want to smack her. But Billy keeps on laughing as you argue with your friend, and it’s nice to see him smiling after being in so much pain.

Darcy whistles as soon as you look at the image of Billy’s fracture.

“Clean split”

“Yeah, he got lucky”

You figure it’s better to ask for an Ortho resident to help with the cast. Darcy keeps Billy company while you go talk to Wanda.

“Hey” you sit next to her, offering a cup of coffee you brought from the machine.

“How is he?” Wanda asks, looking at Tommy, who is sound asleep in the chair next to hers. You motion for her to stand up to talk without waking him up.

“Billy broke his arm but won’t need surgery. Just a cast for a few weeks and then we can remove it”

“I’m such an idiot” she curses and you’re taken aback by her outburst. As a trauma surgeon, you had seen your fair share of ugly situations, so a cast was one of the best outcomes all things considered.

“I shouldn’t have let them play, but it was late and I figured they just needed to run a bit more before they got tired” she goes on, hand running through her hair. You can see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, stop” you place your hands in her arms, waiting until she looks at you. “Blaming yourself is not helping at all. Listen, kids get hurt playing, it’s practically a rite of passage. And I know it sucks and it’s scary but Billy is fine and I’m always around for anything, ok?”

“Ok” she nods and without thinking, you pull her closer, hugging her. Wanda rests her head on your shoulder, her scent pleasant and calming. You rub circles down her back and she relaxes.

“Thank you” she says, her hands still on your waist. You can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks, even in her disheveled state and your eyes travel to her lips.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” a resident approaches you, clearly hesitant to interrupt.

“Yeah” it takes you a second too long to look away, making Wanda blush.

“Billy is all set up” she informs you. “If Miss Maximoff filled out all the forms he’s good to go”

“Yeah, I did” the woman nods next to you, picking up her things and waking Tommy up. The resident leads you to a room where Billy is waiting for his mother. Tommy runs up to him and admires his cast, looking at the material in his brother’s arm.

“Here” you say, adjusting an armsling for him to rest. Signing his discharge and picking up some pain meds, you lead the Maximoffs out of the hospital.

By the time you park in your driveway it’s 2 AM and you have to be at the hospital in less than 12 hours.

“Come on sweetheart” Wanda tries to wake Billy, but you stand next to her and offer to carry him all the way to his room.

You’ve known Wanda for almost two years now but had never gone inside her house. As you carry the boy upstairs, you notice all the family pictures and drawings that the twins made.

“Sleep tight, little man” you say, moving aside so Wanda can remove his shoes and tuck him in. “Let me know if you need anything, ok? I’ll be home until noon”

“Oh, actually, can you wait a second for me? I’m sorry, it won’t be long”

“Sure” you nod, going down to the living room.

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or Wanda has an incredibly comfortable couch, but as soon as you sit there, you relax and drift off.

By the time Wanda tucks in both boys and comes downstairs, you’re fast asleep. The woman smiles, your features soft as you catch up on much needed sleep. Wanda pulls out a blanket and drapes it over your body, hoping you’ll finally be able to get some rest.

—

It smells amazing.

The scent of fried bacon and butter makes you open your eyes, your stomach suddenly very aware that you forgot to have dinner last night.

Looking around, you realise this isn’t your house, but it still takes a minute to remember everything. Wanda, the twins, the hospital.

“Morning” the woman says when she sees you looking confused; the way you rub the sleep off your eyes makes her heart flutter.

“Wanda, hey. Sorry, I crashed in your living room. I’ll get out of your way now”

“I’m making breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday”

“Well…” you rub your neck, stretching. You fold the blanket and walk to her, your mouth watering at the smell of everything.

“Orange juice?” she offers.

“Yeah, thanks” you take the glass. “Can I help with anything?”

“You’ve done enough, Y/N. Come on, sit. Enjoy”

You smile sheepishly, grabbing pancakes, bacon and some jam. The first bite is so good, you let out a loud moan.

“Sorry” you blush, Wanda biting her lip curiously at the sound you just made. “These are like the best pancakes I’ve ever had”

“Thank you” she sits across from you, drinking coffee and resting her chin on her hand. “Do you have to be back to work soon?”

“Yeah, in a couple of hours. I’ve got surgery and gotta make the rounds on some patients from yesterday”

“You work too much” she admonishes in her mom voice and you laugh.

“I’ve heard that one before”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have any family here and all of my friends are at the hospital, so it’s better than being home alone doing nothing”

“Not all of your friends are at the hospital” she says with a shy smile and you nod, appreciating her words.

“What about you? Anything interesting going on?”

“Aside from Billy and Tommy being pure chaos? No, that’s enough for a lifetime” she laughs, and it’s honestly the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“They’re really sweet kids. It must be hard work but you’re doing amazing with both of them, Wanda”

“Thank you” she looks down at her cup of coffee and you nod, eating the rest of your food in silence.

Wanda is about to say something else when your pager goes off.

“Oh, great” you mutter. “My surgery’s gonna be earlier. Gotta hurry up”

“Chew your food!” Wanda scolds when you began to put everything in your mouth.

“Sorry” you say, trying to slow down. Wanda rolls her eyes. “Can I at least do the dishes?”

“Fine” she concedes, and shows you where everything is. “You better eat before your surgery. Or I’ll pack you lunch”

“I promise I’ll eat” you say, rolling your eyes. Once the dishes are done you pick up your stuff and walk out the door, Wanda close behind. “Let me know if you need anything? Billy might have some discomfort but the meds should be enough. But either way, call me”

“I don’t actually have your phone number” she says, making you frown.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here” You take out a piece of paper from your pocket and scribble on it. “Anything at all, call me. Even if I’m in surgery, I’ll make sure one of the nurses answers for me”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Those pancakes were heavenly. Thank you”

It’s hard for you to say goodbye to Wanda, but you hear the twins calling and decide it’s time to go back home.

The woman gives you a nod and you reach out, squeezing her hand. You feel warm as you go back to your place.

To be honest, you’re hoping Wanda calls you, for more than just a consult.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

#aita #am i the asshole

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cripplecharacters · 2 months

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hi! a friend of mine has recently told me a bunch of stuff about how i could include some disabled characters in my short stories (i write hurt/comfort for the record) and what they'd like to see more of.

something on the list was "[disabled people] have access to certain medical supplies that normally wouldn't be accessible." google isn't being super helpful as it's a pretty vague statement. can you give me some examples of this? would it be syringes and needles? or certain medication that's easy to use with malicious intent? (also for the record, they were specifically asking if i could write more disabled characters doing the hurting instead of being victims of it, since that tends to be an underrepresented category). i dont even know where to start researching since there's so many types of disabilities, so any help would be hugely appreciated!

Hello,

Prescriptions open up a world of medical supplies that the public would have to jump through major hoops to access or wouldn't be able to access at all. For example, epinephrine auto-injectors, commonly known as Epi-Pens. In America, one can only get those with a prescription or if you're the caretaker for someone who has life-threatening allergies, there is no other way to get them unless you buy them from a shady sight from the United Kingdom or Canada. Even Adrenaclic, created by CVS Pharmacy, which also treats anaphylaxis, is only available when prescribed by a medical professional. Disabled people with chronic pain can access medical marijuana, or even medical-grade opioids. One can't legally buy Schedule 2 Drugs (things like Adderall) without a prescription. It'll depend on what condition they have, but prescription medications are a huge part of that "access to supplies the rest of the population can't have."

The second thing is medical-grade sterile equipment. Sure, you can buy IV bags off of Amazon for fifteen dollars for fifty, but those probably aren't medical-grade and you don't have a guarantee that they're good or safe quality. IV fluids are hard to find at a reasonable price. Syringes? Those absolutely need to be sterile, it's not safe to buy those from anywhere that isn't a pharmacy. All of this stuff is best purchased as medical-grade, meaning it could be used by a doctor or a hospital, and they aren't buying this stuff from Amazon. Pharmacies get this stuff from similar, maybe even the same, sources as hospitals are getting them, and a pharmacy will probably only sell you most of this stuff to someone who's prescribed it and who has a diagnosed medical condition that requires it. Even then, disabled people usually need to jump through hoops to get our medical equipment.

And the third is something that might surprise you- mobility and assistance devices. Yes, you can get a cane from Walmart or a hospital-type wheelchair from Target, but those aren't personalized. They'll do the job but an abled person probably can't get a custom-built wheelchair as easily as someone with cerebral palsy can. This isn't saying it's easy for disabled people to get these things, it's just easier than it is for the general population. Plus, things such as a class three powerchair are thousands of dollars. If you're prescribed one, insurance might cover part of it, or you might have the option to receive these things for free from charities, or at a discounted rate, especially if you're low-income. You can buy them if you're abled, sure, but you'll have access to a better way to go about it if you're actually disabled.

Again, nothing on this list is guaranteed to be a breeze for a disabled person, but there are routes we can take that make getting them easier than it would be for an abled person who doesn't need them.

Mod Aaron

#anonymous #mod aaron #medical equipment #medication #mobility aids

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sirfrogsworth · 2 years

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Hey I saw your post on wheelchair accessibility - was wondering as someone who does not use a wheelchair if there is anything we can do? Like checking the buttons at doctors offices and reporting that to (??? Somewhere??) If they don't work?

It's one of those "If you see something, say something" situations.

For instance, if you see someone parking in a wheelchair spot and they don't have a placard, just say, "I think you forgot to put up your disabled placard. You don't want to get a fine."

This is better than straight up accusing someone of not being disabled because sometimes it is not apparent they are disabled and people do forget to hang the placard on the mirror on occasion.

Now, if they say they are not disabled and give you an excuse like, "I'm just going to be a few minutes." this is where you have to decide what kind of confrontation you are comfortable with.

If you don't feel safe, wait until they leave, take some pics and feel free to alert the non-emergency line. That usually doesn't amount to much, but in some areas, they might send someone out to fine them or tow them.

If you feel safe enough, you could ask them to please move their car if they are not disabled. You might even start taking video at this point to reduce the chance of escalation.

You could give them a sympathetic anecdote. Doesn't have to be true. "My uncle is in a wheelchair and he has such a hard time when the parking spaces are all used up. Would you please reconsider moving your car?" I do not recommend a hostile approach, though some feel comfortable with it.

You could also start taking pictures of their car and license plates and if they ask what you are doing you can tell them you are going to send them to the authorities. "Your car will be towed if they get here before you leave. So maybe it is best to just move it now."

I do like the idea of testing door buttons and then just letting someone know when they are not functioning. Usually there is a receptionist or security person nearby. Just keep an eye out for accessibility features in public and if you see something in disrepair, alerting someone could save a future disabled person a great deal of trouble.

And general awareness is great too. If you see someone blocking something or parking in the wrong spot, take a picture and post it. Tell your followers "Saw this. Very not cool." Visuals can help make this real for people and get them to actually think about the problem.

One other thing you can do is watch out for shopping carts blocking accessible spaces. I often see people leaving carts in disabled parking spots or blocking entrances. If you see that, just take the cart back to where it is supposed to be.

And like I mentioned before, please don't ever assume someone is not disabled. Disabled people sometimes get confronted for being fakers out in public. Just because someone uses a wheelchair does not mean they cannot stand or walk. It usually means that standing/walking is very painful and they can only manage it for short distances. I've seen countless pictures on social media of someone in a wheelchair standing up in a grocery aisle to grab something from the top shelf. People laugh and call them frauds. But people have no idea why they need that wheelchair so don't make assumptions.

And some disabled people have invisible disabilities. I personally cannot walk long distances without terrible lower back pain. People like me can benefit greatly from parking closer and cutting down the total distance walked. I don't feel I need disabled parking yet, I can usually manage the pain. But that could change someday and it would be nice if people didn't accuse me and others of fraud without proper evidence.

OH! One more thing. Do not give disabled people help unless they explicitly ask for it or are in danger of hurting themselves. Like if you see someone losing their balance or something. I know people think they are being kind, but this can be maddening. Sometimes people need to feel independent and capable when they have physical limitations. Disabled people will go to great lengths to find ways to help themselves in all sorts of situations. They may have grabby thingies to reach things on high shelves. Visually impaired folks may have apps on their phone that help them know which groceries are near them. Yes, it might be easier for them if you gave them a hand, but that is up to them to ask for that help if they want it.

So just be mindful of those things and do your best to help out when appropriate.

Thank you so much for wanting to help.

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ibuprofenking · 1 year

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my sweetest downfall - chapter 2

please feel free to send me prompts for this fic!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48335212/chapters/122108227#workskin

Miorine jerks awake.

The nightmare is still fresh in her mind - snapshots - people dying, because of her. Suletta, limp and silent, floating in space -

Suletta.

She can hear soft breathing behind her and knows Suletta is still asleep before she turns to face her. Sure enough, Suletta’s face is still lax and dreaming as she lays curled on her side. Good, Miorine thinks. She’d be furious with herself if she’d interrupted the precious rest Suletta so rarely got.

And she is resting, her face unlined and lacking the subtle signs of pain Miorine can usually read there. She smiles gratefully.

It’s only been three weeks since they’ve moved into this house - three weeks since Suletta was deemed strong enough to leave the hospital. She still needs a wheelchair most of the time, but she can stand for short bursts and gains more strength every day.

Miorine feels the warm glow of pride fill her chest at the thought. To survive permet score 8, and to be recovering - Suletta breaks new ground every day.

As if she can hear Miorine thinking about her, Suletta’s eyes flicker open. Miorine can see the exhaustion still openly displayed in them.

“Mio?” Suletta murmurs. “Something wrong?”

Miorine laughs softly and reaches up to touch Suletta’s face, gently tracing the fading permet marks there. “No. Go back to sleep.”

Suletta flops onto her stomach, bringing her hand up to fold under her chin. It’s so absurdly cute that Miorine wants to bite her own hand.

“‘Kay,” Suletta whispers. “You sure?”

Her eyes are closed. She’s definitely already on her way back to the land of the dreaming.

“Yes,” Miorine whispers back. “Dummy.”

—

Miorine lets her sleep as long as she’s able - the sun is barely rising when Suletta, still on her stomach, begins to shift uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowing. She groans.

“Suletta?” Miorine doesn’t touch her, doesn’t know what level the pain might be at. Some days it’s a manageable ache - other days it’s like her skin is on fire, and even the gentlest of touches has her crying out in agony.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles. “Just sore.”

This is the permission Miorine needs to bury her hand in Suletta’s sleep-wild red hair. She lets her fingers travel to the nape of Suletta’s neck. The skin there feels a bit warm. She hopes it isn’t a sign that a fever is approaching - they haven’t had to deal with one on their own yet, and she fears she may not be up to the task.

“Do you want to sleep more?” As Suletta shifts again, she already knows what the answer will be.

“Can’t,” she sighs in resignation.

“I could get your medicine,” Miorine offers. The pain medication always manages to knock Suletta out, and though her pain may not be excruciating right now, the doctors had said rest was their most important tool, and Miorine is sure they wouldn’t judge.

“No,” Suletta grumbles. She flops onto her back and begins to stretch. “It gives me weird dreams. The other night I dreamt I was an octopus.”

Miorine lets out a shocked laugh. “What?”

“I was trying to hold your hand but I couldn’t because I had tentacles.” She pouts.

“Oh well, that does sound horrible,” Miorine says in mock horror, and before Suletta can object to being teased Miorine leans over and gives her a quick kiss.

Once Miorine breaks away, Suletta fixes her with a fake glare. “You can’t just kiss me to get away with being mean to me.”

“Can’t I?” Miorine kisses her again, first on her jaw, then on one of the permet marks on her cheek, then finally, her lips.

“Okay, fine, maybe you can.”

—

“You’re stressing me out.”

Miorine ignores the small voice and continues pacing, waiting for her car to pick her up.

From her place clipped to the bag on Miorine’s shoulder, Ericht speaks up again. “Please, stop pacing. You’re making me nauseous.”

“The car is late,” Miorine says, setting her bag on the bench behind her instead of stopping her pacing like Ericht asked. The keychain jangles softly.

“She’ll be fine,” Ericht says, because of course she knows what Miorine is really worried about.

Miorine ignores her. “First the meeting runs over, now this -“

“You prepared for this. Lilique is going to take her to her water therapy and you’ll be back in time to pick her up. And she’ll be all happy when you get there - you know how much she loves water therapy.”

All of these are indisputable facts. And yet -

“I’m calling the driver again.”

Ericht sighs as much as a keychain can sigh. “You are neurotic.”

“And you’re a keychain.”

“I resent that!”

—

As Ericht predicted, the car does come, and they do make it in time to pick up Suletta from her physical therapy - in fact, they’re a bit early.

And, just as Ericht predicted, Suletta is in high spirits and absolutely delighted to see them both.

“Mio! Eri!” She waves from her place in the pool where she and her physical therapist are tossing a beach ball back and forth. Ericht’s little keychain eyes flicker multicolor lights in delight. Miorine smiles softly and gives her a small wave.

Suletta always seems happiest here, where the water can take the strain off her body and she can stand without assistance, even walk a little. It’s the closest she can get to how things were before.

“Your girl is making great progress,” the physical therapist says as Miorine approaches the pool. “We’ve been at this for a half hour now - last week she couldn’t even do ten minutes.”

“That’s great,” Miorine says, and the words “my girl” bounce happily around in her head. Suletta beams.

“You should get in there with her!” Ericht says brightly, and Miorine finds herself grateful she doesn’t have a proper body with which to shove Miorine in.

#witch from mercury #mobile suit gundam: the witch from mercury #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #fic #g witch

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genderqueerdykes · 2 years

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What is the least risky/physically damaging way of chestbinding that doesnt require surgery?

I'm a physically disabled, masc-presenting nonbinary person who quite honestly experiences little to no body dysphoria (from what I understand), but would still love to have a flatter chest so I can be perceived as more masculine/androgynous. I worry that wearing a binder could further damage my back/ribcage thanks to my disability (essentially I have a condition that makes my bones more fragile than they should be, which in turn has caused other problems over the years, such as frequent bone fractures, scoliosis, etc. Also I'm a wheelchair user.) I dont want to commit to something as serious as top surgery though

What should I do? What are some other good options?

PS. I dont expect any medical advice or expertise, of course, just wondering what your overall thoughts are. Hopefully all that made sense. Also i'd love to hear from anyone else who maybe relates to my situation, as I currently feel pretty alone in this. Anything is appreciated, thank you very much <3

hey i understand and i'm glad you're reaching out about this, it's really important to take your health into consideration as a disabled person, that's why i stopped binding, myself. i have hypermobile joints and binding was causing all kinds of problems with shifting things out of place, i also have fibromyalgia and it was generally just causing me pain that i didn't need

i'm glad to hear that you don't have a lot of chest dysphoria, what i might recommend for someone in your position depending on your size is a well fitting but not too tight sports bra with no built in cups- i used to wear sports bras a lot and after a while you tend to not notice them if you get ones that are fitted to your body shape well enough. sports bras are also pretty plus size friendly as well, like i said, just prioritize finding ones with a flat front and don't have any cups or seams sewn in to make a typical bra cup shape

trans tape could also potentially be an option for you, though i do not have experience with it, as i am very fat and have a large chest. what works for a lot of people is learning how to layer different types of clothing- i used to wear a lot of under shirts, like the types you can get in the men's underwear section, underneath t-shirts under a button-up shirt, that kind of thing. the more layers you create, the harder it is to see exactly what's going on, you hide the shapes more easily, and so on. you can play with different fabrics and types of clothing as well, you may find that sweaters suit you better, or maybe hyper masculine "worker" blue collar aesthetics, who knows

those would be my suggestions, but anyone else who has any input for binding while disabled, feel free to give us your input, we'd love to hear from you! take care, i hope you can figure something out and play with your gender in a way that's accessible to you and your health =) have a great day!

#asks #answers #chest binding

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notabled-noodle · 2 years

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yet another spoon theory post

I will start by establishing that a spoon (in this metaphor) is a unit of energy. this can be any amount, and it is really up to you to work out what it means in your context. for the sake of simplicity, I am going to imagine that the maximum amount of spoons is 10, which means you have the most amount of energy possible.

it's Monday morning. you've had a super relaxing weekend so lucky you, you've got 10 spoons! unfortunately, throughout the day, you have a series of tasks that need to be done.

if you're abled, brushing your teeth, combing your hair, having a shower, etc, might all add up to one spoon. it's not a big deal for you, you barely notice your energy depleting.

but if you have a physical disability, it might be painful to get out of bed, so the very act of getting up could be a spoon. if you're a wheelchair user, you may have to use a spoon to get into your wheelchair, and it may take two spoons to navigate getting dressed. if you're neurodivergent, you might have executive functioning issues, meaning that the act of thinking about everything you have to do takes up a spoon.

over the course of the day, a disabled person will probably end up down on one (or no) spoons, having done less tasks than the abled person. whereas an abled person might be able to tick off all their tasks that day and still have three or four spoons to spare.

but that's only Monday. imagine if you then also have a sleep disorder. resting might only regain half of the spoons you spent the day before. you have another full day of tasks, and you finish that day feeling like you're in the negative spoons.

this is why doing tasks when you're disabled can mean stealing spoons from the following day. if I have to go to work, socialise, and do basic self-care all in one day, I may have to use a whole week's worth of spoons on that day. it then may take me a while of "doing nothing"* in order to regain the energy for another day.

*"doing nothing" is in quotation marks as, when you're disabled, there's no such thing as not doing anything at all. even eating or shifting your weight around on the couch can take up spoons

spoon theory can be a useful tool to describe the way a task for a disabled person involves more steps than a task for an abled person, and therefore will require more energy. it also described how we take longer to earn that energy back.

it can, however, take a while to work out how many spoons each thing costs for you as an individual. maybe brushing your teeth is only half a spoon, but making lunch is two spoons. it really depends on the individual! which is also why you'll usually hear people use terms such as "high spoon task" or "I have no spoons", rather than being precise with numbers or percentages.

the idea is to be able to communicate energy needs in a way that makes sense to others, rather than having some spreadsheet of exact energy requirements for every possible occasion!

I hope this was helpful! always feel free to ask further questions if there's anything I've missed!

#spoon theory #spoons #disability #disabled #actually disabled #long post

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sleephyjhs · 4 years

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When You’re Expecting (Taehyung Headcanon)

pairing: taehyung x pregnant!reader

warnings: mention of fertility & pregnancy complications

note: i’ve been craving to write a bts x pregnancy series for a while so here we go !! if there’s a specific member you’d like to see next, shoot me an ask :)

m.list

FINDING OUT

even before finding out you were pregnant, you both had so much love for your child

there was nothing either of you could have wanted more than a baby

it was always at the forefront of your mind how much you wanted a little human of your own

it was approaching a year since you began trying seriously

a few false hopes and two miscarriages later, fertility drugs were looking to improve the chances of conceiving

the raging hormones which came with the drugs were all worth the positive test

early september - sickness had hung around your throat for days

headaches lasted longer than usual, and crying at the most mundane things had become an unwelcome habit

in the bathroom cabinet, you’d collected a small stockpile of electronic and stick pregnancy tests

one of them would eventually show positive, right?

taehyung sat on the bathroom tiles with you

waiting two minutes felt closer to waiting two months

he crossed his legs, bouncing his knees impatiently

your knees came to your chin; high hopes weighed heavily on your heart

the alarm set on his phone beeped quietly

your heartbeat rose suddenly to your throat

taehyung reached out for your hand as you turned to read the results

two blue lines - as clear as day

they became less clear as your eyes coated with thick, salty tears

he began to chuckle as his happiness trickled down his cheeks

“we did it baby! we’re gonna have a baby!” he whispered, choked up by his own anticipation

no words were left swirling in your mind

your jaw hung open as though the hinges were faulty

shakily, you lifted the electronic test to triple check

pregnant.

as you crashed into taehyung’s open arms, memories of the past loomed in your mind

it was only inevitable

a positive test was a familiar joy to you both

however this familiar joy had only ever been followed by crippling devastation

as much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t help but retain maternal caution

however, this time also felt different

taehyung’s spirit, your spirit - it was as though fate didn’t want to disappoint you any more

someone out there decided it was finally your time to grow a mini human to bring into the world

of course, no time was wasted in contacting the maternity clinic

seeing your baby on a screen was now a top priority

just to see their little head, maybe even hear their heartbeat

just to know they were okay

just to know you were keeping them cosy and safe, that’s all you needed

taehyung couldn’t hold his excitement

from leaving the house to reaching the hospital, his toothy grin never wiped from his cheeks

he never said anything at the time since his main focus was always on comforting you

but losing his babies near enough tore him apart

even when you tried to comfort him, taehyung restricted himself just to protect your wellbeing

of course, the worse had already crossed his mind

but it wouldn’t get the better of him

it couldn’t.

you soon learned you were already 6 weeks pregnant

the midwife had to point out where your little baby was hanging out; they were such a tiny thing after all

briefly, you took the opportunity to hear their heartbeat

it was faint over the machine, but fast

there really was a life within you.

“there’s something else, if you just look over here...” the midwife prompted, turning the monitor so you could grasp a better view

taehyung leaned slightly over your chest to peer closely at the smaller monochrome screen

with the mouse, she circled a second bean shaped figure

“the fertility drugs increase the chance of twins. looks like you guys got lucky!”

twins. you were having twins.

THE PREGNANCY

like with most pregnancies, you were advised to wait until the 12 week milestone to begin announcing your impending delivery

and even though he understood the importance of patience right now, taehyung could hardly contain his excitement

it didn’t help that a little bump had already begun to grow

keeping a secret was much more difficult when the evidence was near impossible to hide

already, taehyung spent early mornings talking to his little angels

telling them stories he seemingly made up on the spot

or even borrowing some from his own childhood

“you know they can’t hear you yet? it’s about 7 weeks until they’ll be able to, honey.”

“i know, i’m just practising for when they can.”

of course, you wouldn’t admit that you did the same when you were alone

you attended more midwife appointments than other expectant mothers might

the pair of you much preferred being on the safer side

in the car, when on a quieter, less congested road, taehyung often reached over to cradle your still-growing bump with a free hand

you slotted your fingertips between his for additional sappiness

“you two have so many people waiting for you here, hmm? many people are already so in love with you both. me and mummy included.”

on a sleepless night, you’d made a small pact with tae

it was a rash decision, but sincere nonetheless

“no matter what, they are always going to know how wanted they were. always.”

taehyung hardly needed reminding of this, but it was still a weight off your shoulders

as you tried to conceive, the pregnancy diet had already been implemented into your daily routines

however now that you were carrying two precious babies, there really would be no more ‘cheat’ days for you

no more extra half cups of coffee on slower mornings

although you usually took over the role of head chef in the house, taehyung dedicated extra effort into preparing you both healthy and yummy foods

sautéd rice with green vegetables and lean meat/tofu appeared to be his go-to

but you still opted to supervise just in case

finally being able to announce your pregnancy was another heavy weight lifted from your mind

the other members were over the moon for you both

particularly when they reminded themselves of the struggles you had experienced previously

and also remembering the utter devastation of their taehyung when he had to break it to them

all of them kept their eye out for little gifts and outfits

each week, taehyung came home with a new stack of pale rompers or neutral-tones teething toys

these babies would have the best uncles; at least that much you could be certain of

announcing your pregnancy on social media was a looming task, but one he was determined to pull off perfectly

for filler content between schedules, the members had been asked to film a 5 minute vlog of their daily life

well, what a perfect opportunity!

towards the end, taehyung made sure to include some shots of your now protruding bump overlaid with some more vintage camera settings

safe to say, that day you had broken the internet

love, congratulations and blessings poured in from every corner of the earth

a few comments complimenting how much pregnancy suited you touched you especially

self image is commonly effected by the progression of pregnancy, and you were no exception to that

although it was amazing how your body grew and made a little home for your tiny babies, it was still quite strange to see yourself changing so quickly

your favourite clothes didn’t fit around your doubled bump anymore

and your skin seemed to hate sharing nutrients with two extra people

but for the days where you struggled to love yourself, taehyung easily filled in the gaps for you

sneaking up behind you in the bathroom

(although the mirror kinda gave him away)

he’d wrap his arms around your just-moisturised bump and carefully rest his chin on your shoulder

“tell me all your worries honey.”

you gushed over how much you missed wearing your favourite jackets

and how strange it was to look at yourself in such a new and confusing way

“i know it’s normal, and i know i have to do it for them. but i guess it’s just weird - i don’t look like myself anymore”

he sighed and planted a kiss on a spot of bare skin

those small kisses still tickled you like they always had

“well, you definitely look different,”

you really hoped there was a second part to that sentence, mostly for tae’s own good

“but why does that have to be bad? not gonna lie, it actually kinda makes you hotter. maybe we should make babies more often!”

“make~?”

LABOUR AND DELIVERY

originally, you had wanted to try and stick to the natural route for as long as you could

but after a few contractions, that idea was immediately out of the window

to help steady yourself and wait out the pain, you held onto the kitchen island and swayed to your own pace

eventually, taehyung joined you

copying the same movements while timing your contractions

“they really must be desperate to come out, huh?”

“well do you think they could hurry it up a bit?!”

the pair of you had been prepared for this for over a month

the hospital bag was ready by the door with all of your essentials packed tightly inside

not forgetting the pots of instant ramen taehyung insisted he must bring in case of an emergency

just as he was readying to back out of the driveway, taehyung took a mental stock check of everything packed in the back

“do you think we have everything?”

“i love you but stop talking please.”

thankfully, he understood well that the sheer pain made you cranky

so long as he assured himself that it was ‘just the contractions’, he’d be just fine

as much as he couldn’t wait to announce he was about to become a father to everyone, he kept himself grounded when walking you to the maternity ward

one corridor in and you’d suggested that a wheelchair might be a better mode of transport

breathlessness and contractions didn’t sound like a favourable mix to you

the assessment of your fast dilation granted you an immediate spot in the labour ward

you’d picked this suite specially due to its expansive space

the option of a birthing pool was still available if you so needed it, but the mood lighting and access to aromatherapy was what attracted you to the room in the first place

a serene paradise for your angels to be born into

it was perfect

taehyung explored while you adjusted to your new surroundings

of course, it didn’t take him long to find the birthing ball

“what��s the difference between a yoga ball and a birthing ball?”

there obviously was none, but you took a few seconds to try and be smart with him

“well, sit on that and you might have a baby the size of a watermelon come out of you soon.”

taehyung cradled his torso and pulled a shocked expression, which was enough to make you giggle and cause another contraction

less than a few hours passed, and you had already attempted to scream the building down once or twice

“get these babies out of me. no i’m serious, i need them out.”

realising your deadpan expression, taehyung soon attended to you at the head of your bed

stroking your slightly sweaty head and patting a ice cold flannel on your clammy forehead

he braced himself for a crushing hand grip which came about sooner than he’d prepared for

you weren’t the biggest fan of commotion, and so being surrounded by nurses and doctors was close to being your worst nightmare

taehyung focused his voice into your ear, trying to minimise the tension coming from below your pelvis

his motivational words were broken up by short bursts of pushes

many of which were followed by a string of curse words which just slipped out

and then, there it was.

the first piercing cry belted across the room

a tear or two may have happened to slip from your eyes

finally the moment you’d waited for, nearly two years in the making, was here

the first of two, a little girl who already had a head full of the most luscious black hair

taehyung wanted to hold back his happy tears in order to show some kind of strength

but you and him both knew he’d never hold it back for long

within the space of 4 minutes, the second baby was born into the world.

but this time, there was no immediate cry

the whole world seemed to slow down in that moment as you waited

and waited

midwifes gathered around the new infant, looking for any kind of obstruction

but, soon enough, your son said his first hello to the world

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #bts taehyung #bts v #bangtan #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts headcanon #bts mtl #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts pregnancy #taehyung dad #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung pregnancy

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

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Nunky! (Modern!Ivar x reader - Modern!Ivar x OCs niece and nephew)

A/N: This is my entry to @flowers-in-your-hayr 650 Followers Celebration 🎉 Congrats again, love 🌸 And thanks for this amazing moodboard 😍

I'm awfully late, sorry about that. The truth is, do you know what it is to struggle? Let me tell you: there were three other drafts before this final version. More than 4000 words... All trashed...

Anyway, I'm quite happy with this one, that's all that matters.

@geekandbooknerd, thanks for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Ever wonder what kind of uncle Ivar would be? Let me show you 😉

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff 🙈

Words: 1978

"We're going to play Pete the Cat or Sneaky Snacky Squirrel Game, you in?" He shouts at you from the deck.

Lazily lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, you don't bother opening your eyes. As much as you love board games, there's no way you're leaving this perfect spot. Not yet, and certainly not for the next two hours.

"No, I'm good." You shake your head for emphasis, even if you're not sure he can see you.

"Okay lovebug, see you later," he says tenderly before changing his tone, "All right kiddos, get ready to lose!"

You let out a chuckle as Viola and Soren, feeling offended, express loudly their discontent. And you can't help but laugh. You know he's going to let them win anyway. He may be a sore loser who hates to lose and would do anything to win, whether in business or in a game, but things are different when it comes to his niece and nephew. That's just how much he loves them.

Your multi-faceted lover…

To the world, he is Ivar Ragnarsson, the crippled son – and true heir – of the mighty Ragnar Lothbrok, and, till last year – till you – Scandinavia's richest and most eligible bachelor, and all this in spite of his legs.

To his employees and business partners, he's an arrogant, cranky, demanding, cold-hearted, smart as hell, and very successful business tycoon. Oh, if they could see him right now, they wouldn't believe their eyes. No dress shirt, no suit pants, no blazer. With a backwards baseball cap, a basic black tee-shirt and stonewashed jeans, he looks more like a boy than a crafty businessman.

To you, he's the man you've been in love with for eight months; a complex human being, for sure, full of contradictions: so self-confident and yet in some ways so self-conscious; outwardly tough but at times so incredibly vulnerable. You won't lie, he can be infuriating; he's stubborn, strong-headed and short tempered. But he's awfully clever, deadpan and… well... devastatingly handsome, with his impossibly beautiful features and his otherworldly icy blue eyes. He's a fantastic lover too, unexpectedly caring and attentive, loyal and faithful.

To Viola and Soren, his favorite brother's children, he's Uncle Ivar – or Nunky, as Viola calls him – the best uncle ever, funny and mischievous, loving and supportive. He's always ready to go out of his way to teach them all the cool stuff kids are supposed to know; silly jokes, riddles and magic tricks. He's their favorite babysitter, the one who is completely devoted to them, the one who feeds them ice cream and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, before reminding them conspiratorially, with a finger on his lips: "You know the deal, sweet peas! Not a word to your mom."

You remember as if it were yesterday your first meeting with them.

Soren, chocolate all over his face, greets you with a big smile, immediately asking you if you want to play hide-and-seek with them. On the other hand, Viola looks at you from head to toe, scrutinizing you intensely. With her lips pursed and her brows creased, she doesn't seem very pleased, to say the least. The seconds tick by and finally, placing her tiny hands on her hips, the little girl takes a deep breath. "I don't want to play with her. I don't like her." The hostility in her tone can't be missed.

Speechless, you look at Viola with wide open eyes. You usually have a way with kids and are honestly a little stunned by such an unfriendly welcome.

"Viola, please…" Ivar grumbles, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't have time to say another word. "No, Nunky! You told me she was your lover!" Ah, now you're beginning to see her problem, and it brings a small smile on your lips.

Viola points an accusing finger towards you. "Are you Nunky's lover?"

You nod playfully but Viola doesn't seem the least bit amused. "That's why I don't like you. And just so you know, you may be Nunky's lover now, but I'm going to marry him. I just have to wait a little," she frowns, thoroughly concentrated, "I need to be a little older, maybe like… that," she stretches out the fingers of both hands in front of her, "but Nunky is going to marry me. Me, not you. So, you might as well leave right now."

You struggle to hold back your laughter, aware that this is a very serious matter for her.

"Come here, baby girl." Rubbing a hand over his face, Ivar pats his knees and then helps his niece as she climbs onto his lap. "We've talked about this, little bird, remember? We're not getting married, not in ten years, not ever." He speaks so softly, and there's so much love in his eyes, you feel like you're melting.

"But, I lo–" Viola interjects with a pout, but Ivar stops her, shaking his head. "There's no buts, baby love. Uncles do not marry nieces. That's the way it is and that's how it must be. And yes," he looks at you fondly, "Y/N is my lover. But it doesn't change anything. I'm not going anywhere, Viola. I'll always be in your life. I love you." He gently ruffles Soren's hair. "I love you both. You have no idea how much I love you."

You must have dozed off and are awakened by Viola high-pitched squeals of joy. "Oh yeah, let's go into the backyard." Hmph! Looks like you're going to have company. Bye bye peacefulness.

Well, so be it.

Yawning, you stretch like a cat before sitting up. Ivar and the kids are on the deck and you wave at them. Soren casts you a broad smile and takes two steps towards the backyard but Viola stops him.

"Wait, Soren! Nunky," you don't need to see her to know that she's blinking her big, beautiful blue eyes at Ivar, "please, we are tired. Right Soren?"

Viola's brother nods tentatively as Ivar bursts out laughing. "Is that so, munchkin?" Putting on a thinking face, he stares blanky up in the air for a second or two, tapping a forefinger on his chin. "Let me guess, you want a ride, baby girl? Soren, buddy boy, would you mind fetching the princess's carriage for me, please?"

At this point, you know exactly what is going to happen, yet it never ceases to amaze you. And as sure as the sun rises from the east, the next moment Soren is pushing a wheelchair in front of him, coming to a halt next to his uncle. Ivar immediately sits down, slipping his crutch into the intended holder attached to the backrest.

Reaching out, he now gently grabs Viola's wrist. "Your carriage awaits, princess." The little girl climbs very carefully onto his lap before wrapping her chubby arms around his neck.

Ivar pulls her closer, "Hold tight, princess!" and as soon as he's sure she's securely seated, he grabs his push rims and pops a wheelie, Viola bursting with laughter. He then looks at Soren, cracking him a smile. "I'll give you a ride too, bumblebee, stay put."

Soren, older than Viola and always overprotective when it comes to his beloved uncle, frowns, concern all over his boyish face. "You sure I'm not too heavy now? I'm over fifty-five pounds, you know?"

Ivar laughs, an easy smile on his plump lips. "Don't worry, I'll be just fine." A smile tugging up the corner of his mouth and Viola giggling on his lap, he rolls towards the wide wooden ramp leading to the backyard.

Ivar hates using his wheelchair. He despises it. He's very secretive about it. The truth is, it took him two months to tell you that he sometimes needed one and another two months to actually use it in front of you.

He hates it so much that he would rather crawl than use it. Actually, that's what he does every night, after taking off his leg braces.

Yet, he keeps his old wheelchair here, at his brother's house. For recreational purposes only; or in other words for Viola's and Soren's enjoyment. And he gives them rides, up and down the ramp, sometimes for hours, popping wheelies here and there. Because Viola and Soren love that and it makes them laugh. Because he would do everything and anything to make them happy.

That's just how much he loves them.

Ivar pulls a sunbed next to you and flops down on it, stifling a hiss of pain. "Where are the kids?" Raising yourself up on one elbow, you kiss him, your free hand gently stroking the tight muscles of his right thigh.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he kisses you back. "Gathering the things they want to take to the beach."

You want to give him a disapproving look, but you won't. You know better. You know him.

He shouldn't go to the beach. Not today. He woke up in pain this morning. Walking in the sand is a struggle even on good days. He'll pay for it later. You know he knows it. And you know he'll do it no matter what, and whatever it takes.

Because that, he can do.

Sometimes, you catch a hint of sadness in his eyes. When Soren and Viola are running and he can't run after them, because running is simply not an option for him. When they are jumping on the trampoline and he can't join them, because it would end with broken bones. When they are playing football, or riding a bike, or skating. When they are tree climbing, or playing gunny sack race, or rock climbing, or playing hopscotch, or skipping rope, or dancing, or…

But walking in the sand, even if not easy, that, he can do.

He's going to struggle all the way – wincing, hissing, silently swearing, even dragging his right leg with his hand if necessary – until they reach their favorite spot, a small cove shielded from the wind, with marvelous pebbles and smooth sand. And he will sit for hours, his legs aching, making sandcastles even though, even as a child, he didn't like that. Because it doesn't matter. Because Soren and Viola matter. And the sparkle in their eyes will bring a smile to his face. Their laughter will make it all worthwhile.

Yeah, this is what he's going to do, for Soren's and Viola's happiness. And you know there's nothing you can say or do that is going to change his mind.

That's just how much he loves them.

⚔️"What are you thinking about, love?" Ivar's soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I was thinking what a fantastic uncle you are." You reply genuinely, your thumb grazing his cheek. "And what a fantastic father you will be one day. The father of our kids."

Ivar blinks several times. You know that no matter how many times you tell him, he still finds it hard to believe that you want to make a life with him; marry him; carry his children.

"This…" His voice trembles and he lowers his gaze, "this is really what you want?"

"Of course, it is, my love." You reassure him for the thousandth time, peppering his jaw with light kisses. "Negotiations with Viola will doubtless be tough, though…" You chuckle, your fingers threading through his hair as he nods. "But let me tell you a secret," you can feel his hot breath on your ear, "you've already won, love." He offers you a breathtaking, mind-blowing smile and then his mouth finds yours and he kisses you and it feels like you're alone in the world, nothing matters but your shared love, nothing exists but him, nothing counts anymore, nothing, nothing, nothing...

"NUNKYYYYY!!!!"

Well… You may have spoken too soon…

🛡⚔️🛡

@flowers-in-your-hayr @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @pieces-by-me @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood

#ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x reader #modern-Ivar #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar fic #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #fluffy Ivar #650followers

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Taking Care Of You After Surgery ~ Lim Sejun

The door barely had time to slam shut before Sejun called out your name, walking through the house to find you still sat on the sofa. His smile was soft as he met your eyes, noticing the empty wrappers around the sofa from the food that he had left you before he went to work that morning.

“How are you doing?” He smiled, perching on the end of the sofa to give you as much space as possible to stretch your plastered leg out. “No wild parties whilst I’ve been at work or anything?”

With a soft giggle, your head shook, glancing around the house. You hadn’t been able to move from your spot on the sofa, only leaning down from time to time when you wanted to pick up one of the things that Sejun had left you on the floor.

“I tell you what, the first thing I’ll do when I can stand on two feet again is throw a party,” you exclaimed, “I’m fed up with just doing nothing and sitting around all day.”

“Doctor’s orders, we’ve got to get you on the road to recovery as quickly as possible.”

Although you knew it was for the best for you to stay as still as possible whilst you recovered from surgery, it didn’t make things any easier. Watching Sejun go to work every day, running and dancing around with no pain at all was a bitter pill for you to swallow, stranded on the sofa.

“I was thinking of ordering takeout tonight seeing as the kitchen is still off limits for you,” Sejun suggested, relaxing his hand over your pain free foot, “and my cooking didn’t exactly go to plan last night.”

A shiver ran down your spine just at the thought of last night’s carnage. “With your help I’m sure I’d be able to put something together in the kitchen, maybe if I stayed sitting down or something?”

“Do I have to remind you of what the doctor said once again?” Sejun challenged, tapping against your foot, “for the first couple of weeks you’re supposed to do absolutely nothing, and no matter how dodgy my cooking is, that doesn’t give you an excuse to do anything.”

Sejun could see that you were struggling, whilst you smiled around others who came to visit you and offer support, he could see past that. He knew you hated watching your independence slip away and carrying the burden of having to rely on others.

Whilst you knew that surgery wouldn’t give you a quick fix, it sucked for you to know that you’d have to wait so long to recover too. Knowing that Sejun was beside you brought you at least some comfort, he stuck by your side and always made sure to take care of you.

“Have you had any pain or discomfort today whilst I’ve been at work?” Sejun then asked, studying you closely as you shuffled along the sofa to try and find a comfortable position again.

“Not too bad, I remembered to take my painkillers, so you don’t have to ask me about that,” you forewarned him, knowing just how in touch Sejun was in making sure that you took all of your tablets exactly when you needed too.

Even though you tried to be a little more flexible, Sejun was militant towards following the advice that the doctors had passed onto you. He was determined to do everything possible to help you recover as quickly as possible.

Your smile widened as Sejun continued to look over you. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, I can hardly do much damage to myself just sitting on the sofa all day.”

“Who knows what you get up to when I’m at work.”

Although Sejun always trusted that you followed advice, a small part of him did worry whenever he had to go to work. If you could, you’d probably end up pushing him out of the front door to get him to work and stop him fretting about leaving you all by yourself.

“I sleep, watch television and scroll through Instagram until it lets me know I’ve seen every post,” you laughed, watching as Sejun’s smile widened as well.

“Do you know how many people would be jealous of what you get to do?”

“Most people wouldn’t have to do it with a broken leg though,” you mumbled, snuggling further into the sofa, “I even miss fresh air Sejun, I can’t even get up and open a window.”

The pain in your voice was clear, as the time passed you by, your frustrations with being so limited only continued to grow, especially as you watched those around you.

“I’m pretty sure at work there’s a wheelchair lying around or something, maybe I could bring it home and take you out on it for a while,” Sejun suggested.

“Would you be able to do that? Would the company allow it?”

His shoulders shrugged, drawn to the smile on your face. “I’m sure I could pull a few strings, and they always ask how you are, so it’s obvious that they care about you a lot.”

“Sejun, you have no idea how desperate I am to just go outside again,” you grumbled, leaning against the back of the sofa, “the view out of the window is terrible anyway.”

“It might not be the best view, but at least it’s better than that stupid hospital suite.”

“Don’t get me started about that hospital.”

You were terrified about surgery before you showed up at the hospital but walking into the suite your heart stopped at how generic the room was, everything you dreaded.

From that moment Sejun knew you needed him, not just before surgery, but after it too. Whenever he could, he was by your side, doing whatever you needed him too. And so, if fresh air was what you needed, then fresh air was what he’d provide.

“Imagine giving someone who’s nervous a hospital room that overlooks a tree,” you continued to vent, breaking Sejun from his thoughts. “It was a living nightmare, honestly.”

“You’re out,” he reminded you, leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek, “just hold out for tonight, and tomorrow I will make sure that a wheelchair comes home with me too.”

You smiled appreciatively back to Sejun, failing to find the words to express just how much his gesture meant to you. You couldn’t wait for the day when you could walk outside again, but for now, anything would help.

“Sometimes I wonder whether this leg will heal well,” you whispered as the room began to fall silent, “do you think I’ll go back to being like I used to be.”

“If anything, you’ll be better,” Sejun assured you, taking a hold of your hand, “you’ll be able to do things without pain, as long as you recover properly.”

“I know, you remind me every day how important recovery is,” you reminded him.

“That’s because I’ve seen plenty of people walk in your shoes, just give it time, and let people like me help you. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“You shouldn’t have to look after me.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t,” he laughed, “but I do it because I care, and because more than anyone else, I want to have you fixed back up again.”

“I’m sure with your help, I’ll be there in no time.”

---

Masterlist

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anotherspnfanfic · 3 years

Text

Overloaded

Pairing: Dr Dean x nurse reader

Word count: 1584

Warnings: minor injury

Squares filled: Hospital AU for @spndeanbingo and Doctor AU for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me a Story Bingo

Summary: Working too many hours and being short handed leads to a breaking point.

~~~

Gabe pushed the wheelchair off the elevator into the ED. She bit her lip to muffle her whimper as the small bump jostled her foot. “Sorry,” Gabe murmured as he wheeled her towards the nurses station. “Hey, Charlie, you got an open room? She needs an x-ray.”

Charlie turned to see who Gabe was referring to. “Oh, what happened?” she asked, seeing the pain on her friend’s face.

Before either of them could explain, Dean came out of an exam room and spotted her. “My nurses are not supposed to be in wheelchairs. Especially not my favorite one,” he said as he walked over and squatted down to her level. He noticed her puffy eyes as he carefully pulled up the pant leg on her elevated foot. He echoed Charlie’s question, “What happened, sweetheart?”

She rubbed a hand across her forehead as she glanced at the floor. “I missed a step, or maybe two. I landed wrong on my ankle. I'm pretty sure it’s broken. It hurts a lot.”

Dean raised an eyebrow as he stood and moved to take over Gabe’s position. “Okay, let's get you checked out.”

“Exam 4 is open,” Charlie said.

Dean turned to Gabe as he pushed her toward the room. “Can you go grab the portable x-ray and 25 mcg fentanyl, please?”

Once they were in the exam room, Dean offered his hand to help her stand on her good leg. He leaned over and lifted her carefully and then set her on the bed. She tried not to whine as the movement sent pain shooting up her leg. “Damn it. This sucks,” she said.

He situated the bed so she was laid nearly flat and got her foot elevated on a couple pillows. “1-10—how’s the pain?” Dean asked, as he tossed a blanket over her.

“Uhh, about a 6.”

Dean nodded. “Gabe should be back with the pain meds in a minute. So, you missed a step?” he asked as he started to check her vitals.

“Yeah, I was playing with my phone and I missed it,” she explained. He gave her a skeptical look.

Before he could say anything more, Gabe appeared and handed Dean a syringe. “I figured you’d want that first. I’ll be right back with the x-ray.”

Dean finished recording her temp and BP, then pushed the sleeve of her scrubs up her shoulder and cleaned a spot with an alcohol wipe. “Little pinch,” he warned. “Babe, you can maneuver all the stairs in this building backwards, hands full, and with your eyes closed. You sure you just missed it?” he asked.

She broke eye contact as she contemplated her answer carefully, knowing he could tell when she was lying. “No,” she mumbled. “I might have been a little dizzy, too.”

He reached his index finger under her chin to force her eyes to meet his. “Any guesses why you were dizzy?”

She pulled away enough to drop her gaze back down to the bed and shrugged almost imperceptibly. “Low blood sugar, maybe? Probably,” she mumbled the last word. She fiddled with the corner of the blanket almost nervously, not wanting to see the disappointment and concern on his face.

He hummed. “So you didn’t miss a step. You fainted?”

She sighed in defeat. “Yeah.”

“Have you eaten anything since the granola bar I brought you,” he paused to check his watch, “five hours ago?”

She shook her head and pulled the barely-touched bar from her pocket. “I got busy and then I forgot it was there.”

“What about water? Have you been drinking?” he probed. She simply shook her head, still refusing to make eye contact. “So you’re probably dehydrated, too.”

She shrugged.

He sighed. “You really have got to take better care of yourself. I love how much you care for everyone around you, but you have to come first once in a while. Otherwise, you won’t be able to help anyone.”

“I just get so busy that I forget sometimes.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “We are going to work on that.”

Before she could add anything, Gabe pushed the x-ray into the room, and within a few minutes, they had all the images they needed of her ankle.

“Definitely very broken,” Dean stated. “Gabe, can you run a CBC and BMP and then start an IV of normal saline while I go page Sammy, please?”

“You got it, boss.”

“Wait!” she yelled before he could disappear out the door. “Why are you paging Sam?”

He turned back to face her. “Did you hit your head, too? You broke your ankle; we need an ortho consult. That would be Sam.”

She let out a frustrated groan as Dean left.

Gabe patted her shoulder before wrapping the tourniquet around her arm. “Maybe try not falling down the stairs next time.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away from what he was doing. “Oh, my god. Why didn’t I think of that?!”

He finished the blood draw and got the IV set up. Next, he carefully fluffed the pillows under her foot to ensure it was elevated enough. “You are all set. Do you need anything else right now?”

“Not unless you have a time machine.”

“A day do-over? Let’s see.” Gabe snapped his fingers and then spun around. “Damn. It was worth a shot.”

She tried to contain her smile as she rolled her eyes at him. “Thanks for trying, I guess.”

Ten minutes later, she was dozing off when Dean returned with Sam close behind. Dean ran a comforting hand over her head to ensure she was awake.

Sam took a few minutes to read over the x-rays. He turned away from the light board and walked over to the foot of the bed. “Unstable bimalleolar fracture,” he stated as he inspected her ankle. “You just bought yourself surgery and a vacation.”

“No way,” she blurted. “I can’t. We’re already short staffed.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s not exactly optional. Good news, though: the swelling isn’t too bad yet, I happen to be free in 45 minutes, and you haven’t eaten anything in hours. So we can do this today.”

Charlie joined them to give Dean her lab results. He turned to address her. “Just like I thought: mild dehydration and your blood sugar is at 58.” Dean flipped through the info again before handing it over to Sam. “Okay. So I’ll add glucose to her IV and get her up to pre-op.”

“Perfect. Make sure you keep her foot elevated.”

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. “Do you think this is my first day?”

Sam shrugged. “Just making sure, Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean grumbled quietly.

Sam turned his attention back to her. “I’ll see you soon, Shortie. I’ll getcha all fixed up. Sound like a plan?”

She gave him a lazy thumbs up. “Thanks, Gigantor.”

“Can you send Gabe back in here on your way past?” Dean requested. Sam simply nodded as he turned to leave.

Dean returned his focus to her. “How’s the pain now?”

She scrunched up her nose as she considered her answer. “Um, about one and a half.” She laughed at herself.

“That’s good. I see you’re loopy, too.”

She scowled at him. “You’re loopy.”

He just shook his head. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Gabe returned and Dean gave him the med order and asked him to take her up to the OR.

“You’re not coming up?” She pouted.

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll be there when you wake up, though, I promise.” He took her hand and placed a quick kiss to her knuckles.

As if on cue, Charlie leaned into the room. “Dean, trauma incoming. MVA car vs pedestrian. Ambo is two minutes out.”

“Okay, I'll be there in a second.” He gave her hand one more squeeze before he turned to leave. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Roughly three hours later, Sam found Dean in the lounge pouring a cup of coffee. He nodded and offered over the now-full cup.

“Thank you.” Sam took a sip of the dark liquid. “We got her all set up in recovery. She should be awake soon.”

“Okay. I’ll head up there in a minute.” Dean took a sip of his own coffee. “Everything went smoothly?”

“I’d have paged you if it hadn’t.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam nodded. “Yes, it went perfectly. It’ll heal up just fine.”

“Thanks, Sammy.”

Wandering into her room, he couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful she looked. He placed his hand softly against her cheek, sweeping his thumb slowly over the skin. She nuzzled into the touch as she lazily opened her eyes. “Hi, sweetheart.”

She gave him a goofy smile. “I like when you call me that.”

“I know you do.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy.” She yawned. “And I’m starving. Can you bring me some fries?”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad your appetite is back. You get a little more sleep and I’ll bring you fries.”

“And pizza,” she added. Before he could agree, she gasped. “Ice cream!”

“Tell you what: I will get you fries from the cafeteria for you to munch on on the way home and then we can order pizza.”

She pouted as her eyelids started to droop. “What about ice cream?”

His eyebrows scrunched together as he asked, “When do we ever not have ice cream at home?”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” She smiled as she finally let herself drift off once more.

~~~

Tags: @deanwasscaredbyacat @babypieandwhiskey @muchamusedaboutnothing @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

#tell me a story bingo #spndeanbingo #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x reader #doctor!dean #doctor!sam #dean one shot #dean winchester #my gif #spn #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction

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bonvoyagenoona · 3 years

Note

Can I have some soft post-surgical comfort?

I know it's outside the norm 😖 so you totally don't have to if you don't want to!....but if you wanna...

Who insists on staying the night with you after your surgery?

Who fusses over every move you try to make to get up before you finally have to snap and be like "can you pee for me?! No? Then let me get up" 😆

Who brings you homemade soup?

Who comes to check on you and ends up cleaning your house?

Again, totally ignore this if you're not comfortable with it. I'm day 3 post op and I'm doing okay but am super emotional 😭. Had to give up the pain meds because of undesirable side effects lol. Hope you're having a good weekend!

-🍹

Ah, Chealse! Sending you all good things and thoughts as you recover! Hoping you're feeling better with each day. Here to give you your dose of comfort as requested and prescribed. All the soft smiles, hugs, and feels, dear 🍹thotanon. Eat up and rest well, friend.

Q: Who insists on staying the night with you after your surgery? A: Jimin

He stayed with the maknae when he was injured. He's patient and kind, always waiting with whoever needs that extra time. And now, Jimin might as well be your new IV, fixed to your side since the moment you checked out of the hospital. His signature gentle attentiveness can be seen in the way he got your apartment ready for your recovery, even moving your bed into the living room, setting up your blackout curtains there, and organizing all your meals in your freezer. It can be noted in the way he fills out all of your medical forms for you, collects all your paperwork and notes, studying them over and over to make sure he’s got the treatment plan right, and the emergency numbers memorized as well as programmed into both of your phones. Most strongly, it can be felt in his hands, as he rolled your wheelchair to the car, as he helped you back into your bed, and as he holds your hand now, fingers interlaced, both of you lying quietly in the glow of the TV. You pull him closer, knowing that he's choosing to stay pinned to the edge of the bed to give you as much space as possible. "You need to sleep," he mumbles. "So do you," you whisper back. Jimin's eyes widen, and you see them sparkling, even in the dark. "I'm not sleeping," he tells you firmly. "I'm here for you tonight. Watching over you. Keeping you safe and comfortable. So close your eyes, jagiya. I've got you." He leans over and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, carefully stroking your tired arms. "Time for you to rest."

Q: Who fusses over every move you try to make to get up before you finally have to snap and be like "can you pee for me?! No? Then let me get up" 😆 A: Jin

"What are you doing! Lie down!" Jin yells, his ears starting to turn red. "I have to pee!" you yell back as forcefully as you can. "You'll rip your stitches if you keep yelling!" Jin screams back, his voice moving closer and catching you in the hallway between your bedroom and your bathroom. "I said I have to pee!" you giggle, as he glares at you with incredulity. Jin shakes his head, but he's so annoyed that your pill bottles are also shaking in his hands. "I was in the middle of doling out your medication for the week! You need to tell me when you need something!" Jin exclaims. He matches over to your nightstand and picks up the tiny bell he gave you. "That's what this is for!" he cries, ding-a-ling-a-linging the bell between his free forefinger and thumb. "I have to pee!" you say again, fearing leaking through the mismatching pajamas that Jin hilariously and awkwardly helped you into. Jin sets down the bell and pill bottles to carefully pick you up and walk you the three feet to the bathroom, making you giggle for only maybe the fifth time in the past month. He's made things so much lighter, even showing you how light your body is by easily picking you up, reminding you that things didn't used to be this heavy. "I wish I could pee for you," Jin tells you regretfully, making you cackle as he sets you back down. And then, he shares a serious but joyful smile. "Though I can't do that, I'm here for whatever you need," Jin tells you softly, smiling and kissing you. That smile turns into a smirk. "So start using the damn bell!"

Q: Who brings you homemade soup? A: Yoongi

"Yoongi?" you ask, surprised. He shuffles his stance and leans in your doorway, holding the waxy handle of a big brown bag in his hands. "It's so late?" you mention. "Sorry, but when you texted that you couldn't sleep, I got worried. And when you said you couldn't eat, I got to work." As he steps inside, you move back gingerly, crouching and careful not to injure yourself. Yoongi sets the bag down on your kitchen counter and starts to unpack container after container. "Chicken noodle. Egg drop. Tomato. Sweet corn. Miso." He turns to you. "I know you love kimchi stew and chicken tortilla, but I figured you should stick to mild things for now." You smile at him. "You're here to bring me soup? That you made?? At 2 in the morning???" He frowns before turning away, mumbling something about just wanting to do something nice, that you didn't have to eat any of it, that they're just here if you want… And then he feels your cool hands on his shoulder, and he turns around to receive your appreciative kiss on his lips. The look on his face tells you that it's not just about the soup. It's also that he wants to do anything that can bring you comfort. Fill you up. Make you warm again. "Spend the night?" you ask hopefully. Yoongi smiles. "My backpack's in the hall." He kisses you again, lips moving tenderly, hoping not to cause you any pain. "Let me get it and then warm up the soup you want to start with. I'm guessing… the sweet corn?" Your heart is already full and warm at how well Yoongi knows you. And how much he cares for you.

Q: Who comes to check on you and ends up cleaning your house? A: Hobi

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of dishes being put away. You struggle to sit up, reminding yourself to take it easy. After a few minutes, you swing your legs over the edge of your mattress and slowly step into your living room. When you call Hobi's name, he startled and clutches his chest. "You scared me!" he exclaims. "What are you doing here?" you ask, furrowing your brow. But then you start to put it together. Three days ago, your floors were swept, mopped, and waxed. Two days ago, you found your laundry mysteriously done. Yesterday, your trash had been emptied. You chalked it up to simply losing track of time from the pain meds you were on, but now, it all makes sense. “How are you feeling?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Good, now that I know that you are my mysterious chore guardian angel,” you say, smiling and leaning on the counter. Hobi grins bashfully. And then his eyes blink wide. “I hope it’s OK…” He sets down the stack of dishes that he was putting into the cupboard and sticks his hand in his pocket. He pulls out the spare key that you’d given him before your surgery. “I just didn’t want you to have to worry about anything,” he explains. “And I didn’t want to wake you each time I came over. You looked so tired.” You smile and have enough energy to nod encouragingly. “Thank you.” With you reaffirming that he’s made the right decisions, and that he’s taken good care of you, he walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead. “You know,” he whispers to you, as you lean into his warm hug, “it’s no trouble. I could keep taking care of you like this." You look up at him and press another kiss to his lips with the soft, new love you have for each other. “Then hang onto that key for as long as you like,” you tell him, hugging him back.

More Important Questions

#bts fanfiction #bts drabbles #yoongi fluff #jimin fluff #hobi fluff #jin fluff #bts fluff #bts comfort #important questions #🍹thotanon #chealsecharm #feel better soon!!!!#jin comfort #hobi comfort #jimin comfort #yoongi comfort

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years

Text

dry me off and hold me close

Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.

As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering.

“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.”

Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.

Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak.

“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.

“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”

He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.

Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation.

As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family.

“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them.

“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.

“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully.

As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved.

He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily.

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.

He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”

It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end.

“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise.

“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”

“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”

“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”

“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”

“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”

“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm.

Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight.

It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine.

He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.

As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings.

“Make me pancakes in the morning?”

Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

⭐️

Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date.

“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky.

Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.

“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.

“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.

Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”

“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”

Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.”

“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands.

“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”

“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action.

“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.

“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.

“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together.

“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.

“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend.

“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep.

⭐️

Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight.

“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise.

Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”

“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”

“You sure?”

It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody’s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”

Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.”

“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”

Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck.

“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself.

By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this.

“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them.

Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.

He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these.

“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“You really think so?”

Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him.

“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again.

He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.

Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be.

Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”

“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink.

“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good.

They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”

“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.”

Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”

“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”

“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.”

Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”

“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing.

“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”

“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her.

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.”

Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”

He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”

Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.

“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question.

“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?”

Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”

“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”

“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.

“Literally,” JJ points out.

“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.

“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.

“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”

At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there.

Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him.

“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire.

“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”

“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”

“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s.

“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”

Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright.

Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”

“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.

“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.

“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks.

“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”

“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”

“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly.

“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin.

“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”

“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway.

“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”

“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.

Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers.

Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place.

“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep.

He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes.

“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”

“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.

“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer.

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”

“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”

“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly.

“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.

“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.

“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.

While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.

Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.

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taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith

#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #disabled spencer reid

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glassesandswords · 3 years

Text

Of Wings And Wheelchairs

Pairing: Levi Ackerman & Onyankopon, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoe (mentioned)

Summary: Levi and Onyankopon sit in a coffee shop, waiting for Gabi and Falco to return from their small detour during their vacation together. Levi reminisces about the old Survey Corps veterans and their times together as Onyankopon listens. Soon, the conversation makes its way to a person the two knew very well- Hange.

Ao3 Link

“Let’s wait here.”

Levi and Onyankopon stopped at a coffee shop. With so many people bustling about, it was hard to find a place to relax for a while, especially with all the walking they had done. Well, at least all the walking that Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco had done- as Levi had been pushed around on a wheelchair by Falco the whole time. But the kids had spotted an ice cream vendor and left together to buy something to eat, and the older men decided to get a quick drink before continuing on with their journey.

The coffee shop had outdoor seating shaded by giant blue umbrellas that flared briskly over the round tables. A florist sold bouquets nearby. The scent of roses and lavenders wafted through the air, mingling with that of roast coffee.

“Are you sure letting Gabi and Falco go off on their own in a foreign land a good idea?” Levi asked as Onyankopon looked around for an empty table.

“They are fifteen now. They will be alright. Us, old men, shouldn’t be interfering with a pair of love-birds, so let them enjoy this vacation on their own.”

“You might be right about that.”

Onyankopon decided on an empty table on the opposite end of the florist and parked Levi next to him as he pulled a chair for himself. “Fifteen, huh?” Levi muttered, adjusting his wheelchair close to the table. “If they were in Paradis, they would have graduated from the cadet corps. But these two- they have had their fill of the battlefield way before that, being Marley’s warrior candidates and all.”

“Yes. That’s why they deserve to live like the carefree and free-spirited children they are right now.”

“Not that any child needs a reason to live like that. They all are equally deserving of happiness.”

“Of course,” Onyankopon called the waiter over to them. “A black tea and a black coffee, please.”

Levi noted how Onyankopon kept his favorite drink in mind and ordered it for him by default. Over the past three years, the two men had bonded over their shared losses and he had been a constant companion for Levi after the war. Onyankopon had helped him start a new life and set up his own tea shop after he retired in Marley, taking care of all the paperwork and technical details required.

“I heard you spent your childhood in the underground district within Wall Sina,” Onyankopon said as he watched the waiter leave with their order. “I wasn’t allowed there due to the restrictions on the volunteers, but I heard it was a rough place to live in.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. That piece of information was hardly common knowledge.

“I think I might have an idea of who babbled to you about that,” the face of a certain four-eyed abnormal popped up on Levi’s mind. “Yes. I was raised as a thug in order to survive that hellhole.”

“Did you have anyone close to you at that time? Your parents? Any siblings?”

Usually, Levi would have found it annoying if people dug into his past. But with Onyankopon, he did not really mind. “I was an only child,” he replied, leaning back on his wheelchair, “My mother died when I was young and the closest thing I had to a father was an uncle who abandoned me as soon as he realized that I could take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s an old story,” he waved his pity off, “I did have two close friends there. Farlan and Isabel. They were as good as a brother and sister to me.” A fond remembrance flitted over his face, as if he could see them in his mind’s eye as he spoke. “The three of us thought life above the ground, in a land touched by the sun would be better. Turns out it is all the same.”

It wasn’t hard for Onyankopon to make out that Farlan and Isabel were probably no more from how Levi’s voice dipped. He changed the topic to something lighter.

“But you finally retired from all your duties and responsibilities. How does it feel to go on vacations to foreign countries?”

“I’m surprised you are dragging me along. Not like I could be of any service anyway, after being permanently bound to this wheelchair,” Levi tapped on the metal armrest.

“You are too humble, Levi,” Onyankopon shook his head, “I’ve seen you offering guidance to Armin and the others whenever they need it.”

“I help them as much as I can, but in the end, it is nothing more than an old man’s advice.” Levi sighed, remembering a certain someone’s soliloquy in a forest. “Times have changed and perspectives are different. After the rumbling ended, Armin offered me retirement and I took it. But even if I were in top shape, I honestly don’t think I would want to do anything with the Alliance anymore.”

Onyankopon watched Levi as he gazed at the busy road. The man looked broken, like he had lost way too much in life. He reminded him of some of the volunteers who had seen their families killed and hometowns destroyed in front of their own eyes. For previously being known as ‘Humanity’s strongest soldier’, Onyankopon had not seen Levi in action a lot. But the way he held himself together during that day- exactly three years ago, after Odiha- was a testament to his immense internal strength. The man in front of him was a fighter, but the fight had taken its toll on him.

The waiter arrived with steaming drinks and served it on the table.

“How do you drink that bitter bean-juice?” Levi asked as Onyankopon took a careful sip, trying not to burn his tongue in the scalding liquid.

“Six years and you still haven’t warmed up to coffee, have you?”

“I prefer tea, usually that of my own shop.” He sipped his tea, holding it by the rim with his left hand. “But I have to admit, the aroma of coffee is quite enticing.” His voice went back to its hazy tone. “Mike would have liked it. That guy had a sharp nose for things like these.”

Though Onyankopon did not know the details, he knew Mike was probably one of Levi’s previous comrades.

Levi had a habit of talking about his fallen comrades now and then. He did not seem to care if the other person knew them personally or not. Onyankopon assumed that it was to remember and acknowledge their existence and stories, being the last living veteran from his original group.

He heard about the battle of Shiganshina that resulted in the complete decimation of the earlier Survey Corps and wondered if Mike was one of the people who died there. Or maybe he had been one of the many unfortunate victims who were killed by the hands of the pure titans long before. Onyankopon felt a small stab of guilt for following Zeke, who had caused nothing but pain for Levi and the rest of the Survey Corps, but he had his own circumstances. Choosing sides had blinded them from appealing to their common humanity, until Yelena had revealed to him the plan to offer assistance to Paradis before their first scouting expedition six years ago. He had almost convinced himself that the Paradis military would crush them with their titan power before they could put forth that proposal, but then, a certain Survey Corps Commander gave them the warmest welcome they could have received in the island of ‘devils’.

“Brings back memories,” he hummed over his coffee, “Remember, the first time we chatted was over a cup of tea in that tent?”

“Ah yes,” Levi nodded grimly, “Another one of that person’s stupidly optimistic ideas. It was a surprise that you volunteers actually agreed to it.”

There was a silence as Onyankopon knew exactly who he was referring to.

Levi sipped his tea. “Honestly, they’d come up with the most reckless ideas, that Four-eyes.”

Onyankopon gave a small, sad smile. It seemed safe to talk about them. “I have to admit,” he said slowly, “I was shocked when they pointed the barrel of that gun over their one good eye, even if it was unloaded.”

“You don’t know half the trouble Hange caused back in the Survey Corps,” Levi shook his head disapprovingly. “Always blabbing about their latest hypotheses. Putting my entire squad in danger for another titan capture mission. They’d have had their head bitten off by a titan long ago if it wasn’t for their trusty assistant, Moblit. Hell, they went days without taking a damned bath just because something more interesting caught their attention. Sometimes, when I couldn’t bear the stink, I had to knock them out and clean them myself.”

Onyankopon chuckled at his ramble. He had observed Levi and Hange’s inseparable relationship from his time at Paradis. Maybe it was because they were the last ones to survive from their generation, or maybe it extended a little deeper than that. Onyankopon was not completely sure. He gazed at the long scar across Levi’s face, crossing through his one blind eye. If Hange were there, the two of them would have made quite the one-eyed pair.

But Hange wasn’t there as they had sacrificed themself so that he and Levi could sit in peace under a blue umbrella, drinking hot beverages on a sunny day without worrying about anything else.

Levi was still rambling on, “...all those stupid naming ceremonies for the captured titans. At least three Garrison guards used to throw up after each of their experiments. The tantrums they’d throw in Erwin’s office whenever he denied their requests. That Four-eyes once talked to me about titans and their planned experiments for two days straight after we first found out about Eren’s abilities. Can you believe it? Two days!”

There was a bitter aftertaste in Levi’s mouth and he knew it had nothing to do with the tea. A memory of Hange floated in his mind, of them carefully dabbing medicated cotton over Eren’s face after he had kicked the hell out of him in the courtroom all those years ago. He remembered Hange chiding him for having gone too far and declaring that they’d never kill Eren.

His stomach twisted at the irony of how everything played out in the end.

Onyankopon’s voice stirred him out of his thoughts. “It must have been hard for them to pursue their scientific research after they became the commander.”

“It did take a huge toll on them,” Levi agreed, “Erwin’s shoes would have been hard for anyone to fill. But he himself chose them as his successor and they did their job well, even if all odds were against them.” He gave a short sigh through his nose. “But over the years, they changed too much.”

Levi had noticed all the times when Hange had faked a smile to cover up their exhaustion. They tried to maintain their cheerful façade through all the uncertainty to keep their subordinates from becoming concerned about their mental well-being, but from his time with the past two commanders, Levi knew the bone-crushing pressure they were under.

He had spotted the missing tea from his shelf during all those late nights when Hange had fallen asleep on their desk after pulling multiple all-nighters. Although they weren’t new to burning the midnight oil, the commander’s work was grueling. Adding to that, the knowledge and responsibility of dealing with an entire world full of potential enemies weighed them down incredibly. Only he knew how tired and defeated Erwin had looked during his last moments with him. In a way, the role demanded much more from Hange than it did from Erwin himself.

“You mean they were more excitable before?” Onyankopon asked, “I really did not think they could look more starry-eyed than while they were being introduced to all the new technology from Marley.” He chuckled, “The way they whooped after the success of the new improved 3DMG test session was unforgettable.”

Levi set down his empty cup. “Hange was always a vocal advocate for technological advancement. Their inventions helped to get rid of all the pure titans in the island without much loss of human life. When they were given the hope that the rest of the world was not as cruel as we thought it was- but a place where they could learn and discover- that was when I saw them truly happy for the last time. They hoped to make peace when we left off for our first Marley visit. But we both know how that ended.”

Ah, yes that Marley trip, Onyankopon thought as a tense silence settled between them, The time when everything spiraled out of control. To ease the heavy pauses, he decided to bring up some good memories from back then.

“Remember the time when Hange bought that lollipop from that clown just so that he’d stop stalking you? And the time when they tried to feed carrots to a car?”

Thankfully, it seemed to work as Levi snorted. “Shitty-Glasses was supposed to be the smartest of us all,” he said, “Yet, that was still better than the way they squealed after the camera flash the first time we took a picture in Azumabito's place. Now that was just plain embarrassing.”

Onyankopon smiled. When Levi's squad was out drinking, he had insisted Levi and Hange to take a photograph with himself and the Azumabitos as a keepsake memory of their first official trip outside Paradis. Hopes were ripe that night, with the peace conference scheduled for the next day. To keep their optimism up, they had a small dance session in which Hange had dragged Levi with them and had successfully managed two rounds around the ballroom before Levi remarked that it was ridiculous and sulked in a corner for the rest of the night with a wine glass on hand. After which Hange teased him and invited Onyankopon to give them company instead.

When the camera was ready, they were all suited up- with hats placed on their heads despite the fact that it was evening- just for the sake of the photograph session. Onyankopon knew that the Paradisians had never taken a picture before, so his eyes were on Levi and Hange instead of the camera.

Their reactions did not disappoint.

Hange squealed as the flash lit up the room and Levi flinched, grimacing at its sudden brightness. The photograph was quite comical when it was developed: Hange with their mouth slightly open, Levi with his eyes half closed and Onyankopon’s lips in an amused half-smile as he gazed at them.

“To be honest, you looked quite shaken at the flash yourself,” he pointed out to Levi.

“Yes, but I did not wake up everyone in a fifty mile radius within the building.”

“It didn’t seem to wake the kids up, though.”

“What do you expect? Not even Hange can wake up a bunch of hungover brats who had drank all night and ended up passed out on each other.”

“The three of us had to carry them back, didn’t we?”

“Only for Sasha to puke all over the new suit I wore for the photoshoot.”

Onyankopon laughed at that memory. The waiter came over with the bill and he paid it before Levi could reach for his own wallet.

“I told you before,” he said to Levi as he handed over the money, “This vacation is entirely on me.”

“Thanks,” Levi kept his wallet back inside his pocket, knowing that arguing about it would not change Onyankopon’s mind.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the people walking around, exploring the shops. Levi got a few quick stares now and then because of his heavily scarred face, but he did not care. He was used to people staring at him; the annoying looks of envy and awe when he was considered as humanity’s strongest soldier, glares of anger from the military higher-ups after he had brought back Armin instead of Erwin during the battle of Shiganshina, and gazes of pity after he had been severely injured due to the thunder spear, thanks to that shitty monkey.

“I wonder what happened to that photograph,” he murmured, his mind wandering back to that day in Marley.

“It was left in Paradis,” Onyankopon replied, “The militants probably disposed of it along with the rest of our belongings after we were declared traitors. It’s been three years after all.”

Levi’s heart sank. That was the last piece of Hange he had left, apart from the scars they had stitched across his face. If everything was disposed of, that would mean that the badges he had collected from the uniforms of his former comrades, his letters, Hange’s research notes, Moblit’s sketches from the night they visited a bar after work, all of their personal belongings- everything had been burnt or destroyed. Apart from Erwin’s grave, there was nothing left for him back in Paradis- the place the Survey Corps dedicated their lives and hearts for all those years.

He masked his bitterness, “It was just a piece of paper anyway.”

Onyankopon did not say anything. The cost of freedom had been incredibly heavy for both of them.

“It’s been three years, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Levi remembered that moment when the spirits of his comrades appeared in front of him as he sat battered and broken. The old Survey Corps, with whom he had spent so many years fighting, resting, experimenting and pushing through every loss, every death and every failure together. He had finally finished their job. He had taken all of their dedicated hearts with him and won for them.

His final salute both crushed his soul and set him free.

A part of him wanted to depart with them. His duty was done, Zeke was killed, the rumbling was stopped and the world was finally free of titans. What use would he be to anyone anymore?

But he knew that the others would want him to live the life that they couldn’t. To explore the world and all it had to offer. To make the dream of world-peace come true.

So, he decided that he would go on, and when his time finally comes, he would stand tall among his noble comrades and tell them stories of the world they never got to see.

Levi hesitated for a moment before turning to Onyankopon.

“Do you think they’re still watching over us?”

Onyankopon didn’t miss a beat.

“I’m sure they are.”

Gabi and Falco reappeared from the crowd, with half-eaten ice cream cones in their hands. The brats had grown so much since the first time he had seen them, all beaten up and bruised on that zeppelin three years ago. Now they looked happy and content, their eyes shining with hope, optimism and love.

Hange’s words from all those years ago played in his mind.

I want everyone to feel safe again soon. I want this to be a world where people can live without fighting each other.

There was still a long way to go for that, but with the threat of the titans gone, they only had humans to negotiate with. Though that probably did not make it any easier, peace was still an option. He’d leave that to Armin and Historia.

Erwin and Hange would have loved it here. All the new places and technology, exotic food, new discoveries; it would have blown their minds. Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if that bastard Floch did not show up to shoot holes in that fuel tank. Hange would have been alive, they would have boarded the plane together, they could have seen the flying titan and the previous titan shifters. It might have probably returned them to their normal, curious self again.

They could have survived together.

What would Hange have done now that the titans, their life’s work, were gone forever? The two of them had never really discussed such situations, for they never imagined such a day would actually come to be. For them, a world without the threat of titans was a distant fantasy. But if Hange were alive, they’d have probably headed the peace talks. They were never the one to stay out of the action anyway.

“Sorry, we were a little late,” Falco said as he approached them, “Shall we go?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Falco popped the rest of the ice cream in his mouth before silently pulling the wheelchair by its handle without being prompted to. He was a sweet kid. Erwin, Hange and the rest of his old squad- Petra, Oulo, Eld, Gunther- would have liked him.

Levi picked up a newspaper from a vendor, to see if there were any mentions of the peace committee who had set sail for Paradis earlier that day. As they made their way through the street, he winced as the wheel stumbled over a small pothole.

“I’m so sorry,” Falco exclaimed.

“No, that’s fine,” he rubbed his back. “Times like these are when I really miss Four-eyes.”

Onyankopon laughed, “They’d have come up with a crazy convenient wheelchair, custom-made for you.”

“Knowing them, they would have probably attached an engine and the 3DMG trigger-anchor system complete with a safety belt into the wheelchair,” he shook his head. “Then again, I think they might have also pushed me down a slope as a test run, so maybe I’m safer this way.”

A distant hum of an engine made all of them look above.

A plane, similar to the one they had taken off from in Odiha, flew past the sky, its shadow falling on them as it streaked by.

For the kids, it was just another ordinary plane they stared fascinated at. But for him, something about it felt reassuring.

It was almost as if…

Levi glanced at Onyankopon, who gave him a knowing look.

So, they were watching us after all.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoë #onyankopon #snk 139 #snk 132 #onyankopon and levi drink coffee and tea together in a vacation #featuring plane-san #retired levi #the sc vets were the best characters tbh #i miss them #fluff #snk fanfiction

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algumaideia · 3 years

Text

The ableism in the Acotar series

I was thinking about all the problematic aspects of the Acotar books, and I realized that they are pretty ableist. I don’t know if someone have already talked about it, but just in case I’ll do it. But before I start, I need to say some things:

1. I haven’t read the series for a while, and I don’t remember some stuff. So, I might write something that is wrong.

2. I’m not disabled myself. This post is based on my research about disabilities and how disabled people are represented in the media. I have a lot of interest in the subject, and I also researched about it because I’m writing a story with several disabled characters. I also did a school project about assistive technologies.

3. English is not my mother language and I’m still learning it. There are gonna be spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry about it, but it is life.

4. I haven’t read the acosf book, so maybe SJM changed the story or some character in this book and therefore my post will be incorrect.

5. Besides the fact that I consider Emerie to be disabled, I won’t talk about her in the post. Because as I said I didn’t read acosf and I think that her appearance in the acofas has the same purpose that the other female Illyrians (since Idk how to write Illyrians this will be write wrong in the entire post, I’m sorry).

6. I forget the name of some characters and I don’t want to search it, so I’ll just give them new names.

Now let’s begin.

I’ll analyze the following characters in this post: Papa Acheron, Lucien, Cassian and Ianthe, the woman from the library and the female Illyrians, the female creature from the forest, the Illyrian soldiers that came back from the war and the girl who couldn’t fly. I think I forgot someone, but patience. In the end of the post I’ll talk about disabilities, ableism and worldbuilding.

I also would like to say that almost all her characters got their disability as a punishment, and the problem with this is that it always links disability with something bad.

Papa Acheron:

As I said Papa Acheron got his disability as a punishment, since he didn’t pay his debts, some people went in this house and broke his leg. I might be wrong, but I think that it didn’t healed well and because of that he has chronic pain. So, to better analyze him I’ll compare him to two other characters with chronic pain, Kaz Brekker and Melissa, one of my main characters.

Papa Acheron became useless after he became disabled. He thought he was useless and by extension Feyre thought it too. I’m not saying that internalized ableism doesn’t exist, but the narrative never calls it out. Feyre accepts this excuse, it is kind of implied that if he weren’t disabled, he would be able to help his family and get money. Now let’s look to Kaz (I haven’t read the second book of the duology, please no spoilers). He accepts his disability, not only that but he uses his cane as one of his symbols. He goes against the idea that a disabled person is stuck with a cane or a wheelchair or whatever. He feels free with his cane. Now, this doesn’t mean that every disabled character needs to feel okay with his disability. My character, Melissa, feels a lot of anger because of her chronic pain. It hurts her, it disrupts her plans, it makes her suffer. However, it didn’t stop her to live her life and she also is not seeking anyone’s pity, which is very different from the Papa Acheron situation. Mel has friends, a social life, she studies, she will have a job, she will date, get married and have children. She doesn’t feel mad because she is disabled, she is also autistic, and she loves that part of herself. What bothers her is that her disability makes her feels a lot of pain. Papa Acheron is just someone to you feel bad and angry about. He doesn’t do anything because he is disabled and believes that this makes his useless and the narrative kind of agrees with him.

Lucien:

Lucien doesn’t have one eye, and that’s what makes him disabled. He became disabled as a punishment for falling in love with a lesser fae and not only that, but he is only without his mechanic/magic eye when he is on his worse. He was without his eye when his family was torturing and banishing him. And then when he was UTM. Again, disability being connected with bad things. Now about his mechanic eye. The first time that Feyre describes his eye she says it is creepy. Which is bad. But also, why it had to be magic and give him the ability to see spells or something like that (this was never brought back btw)? Why can’t he have a normal mechanical eye? Why he needs a mechanical eye? Why does his mechanical eye need to compensate the fact he is disabled? He is as much complete with and without his eye.

Cassin and Ianthe:

I put this two together for one reason, their disabilities were cured. I’ll talk about Cassian first. When they invaded Hybrein (I also don’t know how to write the name of the country) they hurt his wings badly. And considering that to Illyrians the wings are as much a limb as an arm or a leg, he was disabled for a while. (I’m aware that to something be considered a disability it needs to be long lasting. But I think that the fact that it was cured is ableist, if I’m not wrong the text said it was a miracle he was healed.)Then we had Cassian in the floor with his wings all damaged, suffering a lot, what a horrible scene. But don’t worry! The next time he’ll appear completely cured, because being disabled is such a horrible thing and SJM never used deus ex machina to save her characters. So, this injured made him disabled for a while, and it could be interesting. The wings are the Illyrian symbol, the symbol of their toxic masculinity and their sexism. Cassian being disabled because of his wings would make him revalue his culture and his own idea of masculinity and it would be so amazing. But he was cured. I think that this makes Cassian falls in the disabled for one day trope. Just like Ianthe. First the way she became disabled was disgusting. Feyre invading her mind was such a horrible thing to do. I’m not denying that Ianthe is a terrible person/fae but that doesn’t change the fact that it was a horrible scene. I really dislike characters with telepathic powers, because for me their powers are crossing a line. They invade and control someone’s mind. They take off the person free will. They basically turn the person in a robot. If I remember correctly when Feyre made Ianthe broke her hand it was with the purpose to make it useless. And when she appeared again in all her glory she was, surprise, surprise, cured.

The woman from the library and the female Illyrians:

I put they together because their disabilities are used for the same two purposes. The first is that they became disabled as a punishment for being female, and the second it to show how FEMINIST Rhysand is. He isn’t feminist, so all these women suffered for nothing. Again, disability being linked with bad things. The symbol of the female Illyrians suffering is they becoming disabled. NOT GOOD AT ALL. About the woman from the library, she was there to also show how good Feyre is. She is there so we can feel pity of her. She didn’t deserve it.

The female creature who couldn’t see:

My problem with her is that it is implied/said that she has better senses because she is blind. And that’s not how it works?? People just pay more attention in what they hear, touch or smell when they are blind/visually impaired.

The girl who couldn’t fly:

I'm gonna call her Anna. First Anna is like the only character who just have a disability. No trauma, no war, no punishment. She just has. Then she is a great disabled character, right? Wrong. She has inspirational porn written all over her story. She is there to make Feyre feel better about herself and make other abled people/fae feel inspired. She is there so we can say: ohhh poor thing, but at least she overcame her disability and now can fly. So ableist. Anna is also only valued after proving herself useful. That is wrong. Disabled people should be valued because they are people. They don’t need to be amazing in anything to be treated with respect.

The Illyrian soldiers:

My problem with them is how their disability is used to reinforce sexism and make Cassian and Rhysand feel bad. But what about the Illyrian soldiers? How are they feeling? It seems this is not important. They also bother me because of worldbuilding questions.

Disabilities, ableism and worldbuilding:

First, why humans and fae feel the same about disabled people? Feyre has the same opinion the IC have. And the humans and fae were separated for 500 years. This doesn’t make sense. Every court think the same thing about disabled fae? Does something change if the disabled fae is a lesser or a higher fae? It should make a difference. A real world example of how social class affects the way disabled people are treated: the first school for deaf people created only taught children of the nobles.

And why the way people look to disabled fae didn’t change after the war? What about the assistive technology? You know what, it is unrealistic the fact that we don’t have any assistive technology in this world. But this happen in the antient times, how could there be any assistive technology? First, assistive technology is everything that helps a disabled person, a cane, a screen reader, a scooter. Everything can be an assistive technology. Second, assistive technologies exist since the antiente times. One of the oldest prothesis were found in a mummy. There is a painting of Hephaestus using a wheelchair. And considering that this series happens in what was supposed to be the Middle ages, it was supposed to have assistive technologies. Wheelchairs during this time were heavy and the user couldn’t use it by himself, but they existed. There are records of a king using a wheelchair during the middle ages. And I mean with the war something was supposed to change. The first place to blind people in the France was created because 300 soldiers came back from the crusades without their eyes. It was in the century 20 that disabled people started to be more included in the society. And one of the reasons were the soldiers that came back from WW1 and WW2 disabled. Not only that but in war times the technology improves, so a lot of new assistive technologies and materials were created during this time. The first record of guide dogs comes from 1819 in school in Vienna, but it didn’t work. Only after WW1 that guide dogs appeared again. And you know with what purpose? Help veterans that were blind due to the war. Braille was a system used for the French army during battles. Louis Braille only made it simpler. The war should change something.

Why is the world ableist? The excuse that this is an antient society doesn’t work my friend. The Egypt was a very including country. Blind people could be part of any social class. Dwarfs were part of the society since they had a dwarf god. In antient Japan blind people were expected to be independent. They could work with music, religion, telling stories etc. And the work of telling stories was very important since it made the Japanese tradition to continue. The excuse that this is an antient society is just this, an excuse. Now she could have used to say something. Leigh Bardugo used the ableism of her world to criticize the ableism of our world. I’m doing the same thing with my story. SJM made an ableist world just because.

That was my analysis. I’m sorry this was very long. I know this was a little confusing, but it was very difficult to put all the stuff that was in my mind in text. In my mind everythig made sense, but when I was writing it I realized I wasn’t following a logical argument. If that makes sense. Anyway, thank you for reading it.

If you read the books and realized I wrote something wrong, please tell me. If you are disabled and think I said something offensive, I’d love to hear you. If you are non-disabled and want to comment and give your opinion, feel free. And if you don’t want to comment, don’t do it. You can do whatever you want.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. This is my first post in Tumblr, so I don’t know if I tagged it right, if you want to help, I would be really grateful.

#anti sjm #sjm critical #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti acomaf #ableism #six of crows #kaz brekker #disablity representation #disabled characters #lucien vanserra #cassian

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