#i may or may not have had a character or two who uses a wheelchair and/or crutches

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna's Loneliness Part 1

(Thoughts on Sukuna's Dehumanization as of JJK 261.)

Part 2

Some things to keep in mind...

1) This analysis deals with topics of ableism, racism, and discrimination. (Very brief suicidal ideation mention.)

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans because of their accessibility. 

3) There are a lot of links so you know I'm not making stuff up. The sources are both formal and informal. Please do research on some of the discussed topics to gain a better understanding of them.

(Click pictures for captions/citations.)

The Name Ryomen Sukuna

Before we start this needs to be made clear. Ryomen Sukuna is not a first and last name. Ryomen is a title. Sukuna is a name.

Ryomen uses the kanji 両面 which can be translated as "two-faced".

Sukuna uses the kanji 宿儺 which can be translated as "specter". Individually the kanji can be read as "lodging, inn" (宿, suku) and "exorcism" (儺, na).

Two-faced specter is not a nice name to put it lightly. It's such a mean spirited name that the JP fanbase suspects he was called something else before becoming The Disgraced One.

Normally I would assume his parents did not name him this, however, Sukuna himself had this to say about his birth.

In the original Japanese, Sukuna calls himself 忌み子 (Imigo) which can be translated as "Abominable Child", "Unwanted Child", or "Shunned Child." None of these translations in my opinion get across how severe Imigo is. It's closer to meaning "child who should've never been born". Like the child's very existence is an affront to god. (If you play Elden Ring the Omen are called Imigo in Japanese for this reason.)

You combine this fact with his name and it starts to paint a nasty picture. Sukuna straight up may not have a last name in part from what is implied to be disownment from birth.

Sukuna's Trauma

(Even if he won't acknowledge it as something that has deeply affected him.)

As a Basketball American (aka one of those people with a unique skeletal structure and muscles as Mr. Gojo Satoru would say), I consider myself a professional experiencer of discrimination. This means when a character has likely experienced something similar to me, I can sniff it out like a bloodhound. Though what Sukuna experiences is much closer to ableism than racism. (Discrimination across the board is pretty similar in a lot of ways you know.)

Sukuna is disabled—not as in he lacks an able body (my goodness he is too ablebodied), but as society is not built with any consideration for him. He’s a massive conjoined twin with 4 eyes and 4 arms and 2 mouths. If you know anything about being tall in Japan, it's that it’s a nightmare. Doorways, showers, bathrooms, and buildings are built for small people which leads to the very infrastructure causing problems for anyone big. But Sukuna’s size is just the start of those kinds of problems. He canonically wears women’s kimonos to accommodate his arms since they have larger sleeves. He often goes shirtless or wears a shawl simply because clothing isn’t made for him.

If you’ve known or read anything by people with mobility issues or missing limbs, a major complaint is clothing. For example someone with a missing leg can either pay for expensive customized pants, or they can purchase regular pants and tie off the extra pant leg. They can have trouble buying one shoe since they almost always come in pairs. (To rectify this sometimes they find a mirror twin called a Sole Mate who they share the extra shoe with.) 

Now if I’ve learned anything from people with mobility issues, it’s that ablebodied people are really fudging annoying and rude. They will grab mobility aids unprompted and even move people around in wheelchairs without permission. In this treatment, the ablebodied dehumanize the disabled and treat them like objects in their way.

Sukuna also experiences objectification in a similar manner. People see him as an obstacle to conquer, a means to test their strength, a helpless thing that needs curing, a test subject to study, and a symbol for their own use. All of these things are extremely dehumanizing and things disabled people may have to deal with.

We’ve got Yuji and co seeing him as a curse to exorcize.

Kashimo and others using Sukuna to test their strength.

Yorozu seeing Sukuna’s lack of interest in romantic/sexual love as a thing to be cured. (Your honor, he is aroace.)

Kenjaku using Sukuna as a test subject and insurance for The Plan.

Heian era society revering him as a god to use him in rituals for their benefit.

The last example is a very interesting form of discrimination. If you aren’t familiar with the term, there is one called benevolent prejudice. This is when discriminatory beliefs are flattering instead of malicious. (Examples: Black people are athletic, Asian people are smart, etc.)

Benevolent prejudice still results in negative outcomes for the group affected, but to me personally, some of them are kind of hilarious in isolation. Here are some of my favorites:

I’m pretty sure this is why Gojo apologizes so readily to Miguel and without resistance. He realizes “oh crap I’m doing to Miguel what everyone does to me”. 

And yes this belief had a negative outcome for Miguel—it’s likely the reason Gojo beat him so hard compared to other characters in the JJK 0 movie. (Remember Gege has direct involvement in the anime.) This is canonically a racially motivated beatdown, trauma response from the black ropes mimicking Toji notwithstanding.

On the ableism side of things this benevolent prejudice can manifest as turning people with deformities or atypical features into objects for worship, fetishization, or sacrifice.

As an aside, I suspect Uraume’s gender is ambiguous because they’re intersex. And boy howdy do intersex people experience dehumanization as objects of worship (fetishization and religious symbols) or as a problem that needs to be corrected (forced surgical procedures/mutilation and erasure). This, in my opinion, might be the reason Sukuna likes them more than anyone else. Uraume may not fully understand the isolation of strength, but they do get the dehumanizing way in which society treats them both.

My point here is that Sukuna experiences regular prejudice and the benevolent type. All of which are dehumanizing from every single angle, leaving him in a state of near constant objectification. (Uraume puts Sukuna on a pedestal as their master which is emotionally isolating but they still see him as an individual on his own merits.)

What constant systemic discrimination does to a motherfudger...

So now that we've established how Sukuna's dehumanization happened, I can rant about how this is probably a major reason behind his disconnect from his humanity and a source of his loneliness.

Gege has stated that Sukuna and other people don’t really know how to categorize his personhood. He's so strong he's more like a natural disaster than anything else.

Sukuna says things like this about himself.

"If I was a cursed spirit…"

"...that's the sort of human I was."

He doesn’t see himself as a human or a curse. At one point he did consider himself human but stopped. He sees himself as this third thing which is highly likely to be a “living creature” as Gojo would put it. 

Gojo also experienced benevolent prejudice that lead to his dehumanization and subsequent objectification (thanks JJK 261 for making me realize it was much worse than I assumed). And from birth too. I think this is why they’re able to connect so well during their fight. Especially since this prejudice leads to them becoming sinks for everyone's burdens while being scorned in the same breath. (It's like how people adore "my kind's" athletic/manual labor abilities but then don't want us in their neighborhoods.) The world isn't made for them but it's going to exploit the very thing it hates them for.

The difference between those two is probably the stares of disgust and day to day inconveniences from the extra parts. Gojo can effectively blend in with other humans if he really tries. Sukuna cannot. (Maybe that’s why he says this too.)

Sukuna to me, feels like a manifestation of this rage against constant systemic discrimination. You look at him funny? He kills you. You treat him like a thing that serves you? He kills you.

I know I'm projecting but hear me out!

I don't think Sukuna was aggressively abused by others for his appearance to get to this point by the way. It's more of a death by 1,000 cuts scenario. Someone crossing the street to avoid you, a flash of revulsion when they look at you, backhanded compliments, name-calling in whispers, gentle reminders you don't belong in infrastructure and accessibility to resources. On their own they feel like paper cuts, but if you experience them constantly without time to recover, one day you look down and realize there's a massive rotting gash.

Thankfully I have friends and spaces where I can exist without being subject to discrimination. I can treat these wounds and keep going relatively ok. When I was a child, I didn't have a proper outlet for that and it ate me alive. I flip flopped between wanting to magically wake up fully white or disappearing entirely and wanting everything to explode. Sometimes I wanted all of these thing at the same time. These old wounds reopen on occasion but I know how to deal with that now.

In Sukuna's behavior and attitude, I see that kind of hurt. And his coping strategy appears to be making everything explode since violence is all he knows. Maybe cannibalism wasn't the healthiest way to deal with this but you know it's Jujutsu Kaisen.

Speaking of cannibalism, the definition of a cannibal is an individual that eats members of their own species. Sukuna is regarded as a non-human by everyone around him in every instance except when he is called a cannibal. He’s not human enough to be a part of society but just human enough to be a cannibal. His status as a human changes in what makes it easiest to disregard him as an individual worthy of respect or consideration. (Think of how conservatives misgender gender non-conforming cis people and then turn around and misgender trans people for hypocritical reasons.) 

Sukuna’s acknowledgement of both Jogo and Gojo is bittersweet with this lens. Jogo is a curse fighting on behalf of curses’ humanity. He wants curses to live as humans after being born lowly and unwanted in a world that wants him erased. Gojo is a human forced into godhood by circumstances he couldn’t control. He’s someone who became isolated and rejected by others until he stopped seeing himself as a human. Sukuna has lived both of these experiences and connects with them in a way no one else can. 

Unfortunately, because Sukuna only knows how to love through violence, he kills them. (Great job, Sukuna, you did this to yourself. You could've had friends.)

I also suspect this is why Sukuna believes this.

This type of society is one in which Sukuna can exist. He can relentlessly pursue the strength through which he builds his self-esteem and be acknowledged as something. However, that is still isolating. And Sukuna is a human, which means he’s a social creature that needs companionship. (Not necessarily romantic or sexual mind you.)

I find Sukuna’s vague suicidal ideation and refusal to die extremely relatable for all these reasons. Much like Gojo, he seems to be convinced the world will never treat him the way he wants to be treated and wants out.

There’s also something to be said about the unique loneliness aromantic and asexual people experience from wanting deep and fulfilling relationships without romance or sex in a world that only values relationships with both of those things.

So why is Sukuna like that?

Despite knowing how much it sucks to be dehumanized, Sukuna still participates in dehumanization himself, referring to humans as insects/animals or things for him to play with. 

And in a Kenjaku parallel, food for him to enjoy as well.

I predict this attitude he has towards humans is the direct result of his dehumanization and objectification for his appearance and strength. It’s all one big unhealthy coping mechanism.

I think this is why Yuji ideologically pisses him off so much. Imagine truly believing all this isolation and suffering for innate characteristics made you stronger, only to find someone who experienced none of that starts rising to your level and shatters your entire world view.

Trauma isn’t something that makes people stronger, but Sukuna likely believes it does as a cope. In my last analysis I called Gojo a sopping-wet pathetic cat who pretends everything is ok. Sukuna is no different if you ask me.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Stars and Seas: A Drowned Tale

Years ago, I made a short story titled "The Drowned", which featured Matthew and Lyrus, a Human and a Merfolk variant called "Drowned", who fell for one another and became eternal lovers.

I'm happy to say that, years later, I have a continuation of this story just as well! Stars and Seas: A Drowned Tale features the former side character Ilias, and a new character, Thompson.

Story below the cut.

Words: 4468

Days off for Thompson were extremely rare. Hospice required constant attention from the nurse, but ever since Matthew was discharged, the man found himself with more free time than usual. Matthew was the main resident to whom Thompson was assigned, and without any new residents since, the nurse had little to do.

With a full free weekend, Thompson decided to visit the boardwalk on the edge of town. It was the location’s prime attraction, with a small amusement park and multiple boardwalk games. Pizza, chicken, fries, burgers, you name it and the stalls sold it.

Alone, Thompson wandered across the wooden planks, looking at various carnies who called to families with their children, friends with their friends, and couples with their lovers.

Yet there he was.

Alone.

The man’s heart grew heavy, but no less he walked toward one stall, and pulled out the wallet in his pocket.

“What can I get you, sir?” the lady asked.

Thompson looked up, and pointed to a bag of green cotton candy. “I’d like that bag please,” he said. “Is debit ok?”

The woman nodded, reaching to pull the bag off its hook from the overhang. “That’ll be five dollars,” she said. “Anything else you need?”

“Actually yes. May I please have a bottle of water?”

“Sure thing!” The woman set the cotton candy down, then turned around to a small fridge, and opened it, pulling out one bottle of water. “Alright, that’s another four dollars, so your total comes to nine!” She scanned the two items.

Thompson pulled out his card, and placed it against the machine. Once it beeped, he returned it to his wallet, and input the pin. The machine rang a gentle tone, and he nodded, then grabbed his food and drink. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a great day.” He forced a smile to her briefly.

The woman nodded. “You, too.”

Turning away, Thompson located a table in the distance, just outside the amusement park. With even steps, he made way toward this.

Two young men stood outside the park entrance, fumbling for cash to pay the fee.

“Damn. Guess we spent more at the diner this morning than I thought,” the smaller man said, chuckling.

The other smiled, and kissed the first. “Worry not, my dear. I’ve got this covered.”

Thompson’s heart sank even deeper hearing this conversation. Two men. In love. Yet here he was still alone. He glanced toward the lovers briefly, then stumbled.

“Lyrus, I told you to stop covering me!”

“Well really it’s my father covering us both.”

Turning toward the two young men, Thompson quickly approached. “...Matthew?” he asked.

The smaller man turned around, his mouth immediately falling agape upon seeing Thompson. “I–you… Thompson?!”

“Yes!! It’s me!!” Thompson cried, a smile coming to his face. He reached for Matthew, wrapping his arms around him gently. “Oh my god!! Look at you!! You’re–you’re completely healthy now!!”

Smiling warmly, Matthew returned the hug to his old nurse, nodding. “I am!! I feel great!!”

Thompson separated from him, and looked upon the young man who now stood. He stood. Matthew’s legs were riddled with cancer before, and left him confined to a wheelchair for the most part, save for good pain days. But Thompson looked at Matthew’s wrist.

Upon it was tied a single small bracelet of seashells, the rope made of dried seaweed.

And Lyrus’s wrist held one just the same.

Thompson nodded, smile never waning. “Healing is a magic in and of itself, isn’t it?” he asked.

There, Matthew stumbled slightly. “Wh–what do you mean?”

“Getting better in any way. It seems to bring people together, doesn’t it? You two have each other now, and that’s incredible. It’s perfect. The magic between you both seems to have done more than modern medicine ever could.”

Matthew fell silent, his blood running cold.

But Lyrus stepped up, smiling. “You know, Thompson, sir. Matthew has told me much about you in the time we’ve been together. I was hoping to meet you someday.”

Thompson smiled gently. “I’m honored to meet you all the same, sir. And I truly wish both of you a great eternity together. Even though… I’ll likely never see Matthew again.”

“Perhaps there will be more meetings,” said Lyrus. “You never know what the future holds, after all. Things change. People change. That is the magic of life.”

Nodding, Thompson’s smile now waned slightly. “Well… I hope you both have a great day. And a safe return home. May the tides pull you to safety.”

Lyrus bowed to him. “And may they never tempt you into the depths all the same.” He pulled Matthew into himself. “Come on, hon. Let’s keep our little date going.” Together, he and Matthew handed the cash to the person at the front gate, and entered inside.

Thompson sighed, and walked to the table. Situating himself, he opened the bag of cotton candy, and began eating it silently. Pondering. His heavy heart beat slowly and painfully against his chest, and he turned to look at the beach, its gentle waves lapping away at the sand as children played about, and people of all ages spoke and smiled. 

But Thompson himself frowned, for he was alone as always.

Forever alone…

====================

That evening, Matthew and Lyrus returned to the castle of Limrias. As both sat together at the table alongside Ilias, they ate their dinners as a family.

But Matthew seemed oddly quiet. His gaze was distant, almost as though the man focused on something beyond the present.

“Are you alright, hon?” Lyrus asked.

“...No.”

“Talk to me.” Lyrus put one webbed hand on Matthew’s shoulder, and reached the other to brush his hair behind a finned ear. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s… it’s Thompson. From before,” Matthew said, sighing. “He looked… I don’t know. Sad? I could feel it. All his sorrows flowed into me like they were my own. I know Drowned can feel connections to one another through the bonds we have. But can a Drowned do the same with a Human?”

“It’s possible,” Ilias said. “You and Thompson had a great deal of investment in one another before you became Drowned. Those feelings of love still remain, and through your love for him, it’s very likely you could feel a bond between yourself and him as you would any other Drowned.”

Matthew nodded. “Thank you. I just… I wish I could help him. He always seemed so happy when he was around me, but I know he’s been through a lot. He never told me what he experienced, though.”

Ilias cut into a filet, and stabbed it with his fork. “Is he still nearby? Still at the boardwalk?” He placed the filet piece into his mouth, and began to chew it.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d like to meet him, and thank him for having cared for you all these years,” Ilias replied. “He seems as though he could use such thanks, and he should know you’re in good hands now.”

“Dad, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lyrus asked. “He knows Matthew and I are Drowned, but that’s dangerous enough in and of itself! Do you really want to risk revealing yourself, our king, to him?”

Shrugging, Ilias stabbed the last piece of his filet. “If he already knows about us, then what’s the harm in showing him myself?” He bit into the piece, and swallowed it, setting his fork and knife down. “You two go enjoy yourselves for the night. I’ll be back by morning. Promise.” The king smiled at his two boys, and swam from his chair, then pushed it in. Without another word, he exited the room.

====================

Upon the beach, Thompson sat solitarily, knees to his chest as the waves crashed in the distance, their extended falls reaching the man’s feet. The water kissed him softly. Thompson reveled in what little peace this brought him.

Looking up into the horizon, boats and ships sailed across the night, far out into the dark, every star above illuminating their shapes.

How he longed to leave this land and see the world as those people did… Maybe things could be better elsewhere…

Thompson sighed, burying his head in his knees, shoulders dropping.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

The man jumped, and looked up. There, his eyes fell upon a tall, broad man, roughly his own age, whose hair and beard appeared black and salt-worn, hints of gray running through their lengths. He smiled kindly to Thompson.

“Mind if I take a seat?” the man asked.

Thompson scooted to his right, shaking his head. “No, please. Go ahead.”

Bending down, the stranger sat carefully, placing his hands against the sand to steady himself as he lowered into a sitting position. Upon both his wrist lay two gorgeous bracers of seashells, tied in place with colorful seaweed.

Thompson’s eyes widened at their sight. However, he remained silent.

The stranger gazed up at the stars meeting the sea afar. “Matthew’s told me lots about what you’ve done for him. I’m grateful. For you. For all your care and help given to him over the years.”

“You’ve done more for him than any medicine could have,” Thompson said .

“I don’t mean just medically, but emotionally as well.” There, Ilias smiled kindly, and turned toward the Human. “He’s struggled a lot. Learning to be part of a family when he’s never had one is certainly a difficult thing. But he tells me he learned what he could from his love for you. Matthew always tells me you’re the father he never had.”

“Well I’m not much to go by. I don’t have a family, either…”

Ilias raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“No. It’s a long story. You wouldn’t care for it, I promise.” Thompson sighed heavily, his demeanor lowering into sorrow.

Pausing a moment, Ilias readjusted himself. “I’ve got time. And Matthew is worried. He tells me you’re sad. I see it in you that you are. Maybe talking would help ease the burden?”

Thompson shook his head. “I can’t. It’s no use. I’ve spoken to therapists for decades now, and it doesn’t do anything to make this better… Not what with I’ve been through…”

“Well… what about talking to a friend?”

Pausing a moment, Thompson glanced toward Ilias, eyes wide. He saw, there, the king’s kindly smile, and welcoming self, so genuine and gentle. How could he say no to this man? Regardless, Thompson looked away, shaking his head again. “It’d be wrong to burden another with my troubles. Especially a king…”

Ilias chuckled a little. “Friends exist to carry the burdens of one another in part. Nobody can make it through life alone. And if you do not tell me now, I will continue to visit each night you’re here until I gain your trust enough that you speak. It wouldn’t be right in my heart or mind to let such a great and kindly man as yourself suffer alone.”

“Why do you think so highly of me?” Thompson asked.

“Because you kept Matthew safe. And Matthew has opened my heart to trusting once more.” The king took a deep breath. “I spent more than a millennia distrusting Humans. They’ve proven to be enemies of my people for ages now, polluting our home and using it for selfish gains. But Matthew and Lyrus fell for one another more than a year ago now. And I’ve seen since then what good Humans are, and what good they bring. Lyrus, my son, was so lonely and broken until he met Matthew. Those two healed each other’s hearts and lives, and their love has, in turned, healed me.”

Thompson’s eyes nearly welled with tears now. He gulped the sadness back. “Love is… it’s something I’ve not had in a very long time…” His tears began to fall.

Ilias lifted a finger, and the teardrops shifted from Thompson’s face, floating away toward the sea.

Eyes wide, the Human watched his sorrows move from himself and join with the water beyond. He shook his head. “I’m… a lot like Matthew in a sense… I, too, love men. I’m how he realized his own sexuality. But my parents–my entire family both immediate and extended–they shunned me for what I am. They called me a disgusting whore, and threw me into the streets. I tried to go back! I tried so many times!! But eventually they moved, and I never knew where to! I had nobody and nothing!!

“My boyfriend at the time, he proposed to me, and we were planning our wedding. We found out he was pregnant, and both of us felt ecstatic! The future was bright, and we’d just gotten an apartment together here in the city. But… this hardly lasted…” Now Thompson’s tears fell in a large stream, and the man sobbed violently, clutching his knees to his face as he pressed his forehead into both harshly. “Kevin, he–he miscarried. Just a few weeks into the second trimester. We were devastated, and the doctors found out why this happened.

“Kevin had late-stage ovarian cancer. He was dying. And no amount of medicine would ever help save him…”

Ilias’s face dropped, his heart sinking into an abyss of sorrow. He reached for Thompson, but retracted his hand before it could touch him.

Thompson tensed, biting his lower lip harshly. “I was alone. I had nobody. No family. No partner. No love. And I tried. I tried to find someone else! But I’ve been broken!! My sorrows are too great, and my pain is immense! Nothing makes it better! Nothing!!” He rammed a fist into the sand, trembling. “I’m lonely… I’m broken… And I see no reason to keep going. Ever since Matthew left, there’s been little hospice work to do. It’s like I’m not needed anymore. Nobody needs me, and I am needed nowhere. I can’t keep going like this…”

Shifting toward the Human, Ilias sat on his knees and wrapped himself around the balled-up Thompson, hugging him softly. “You’re needed. Always. That I promise.”

Thompson sobbed, his heart weighing itself down into the depths below. "If I fell into the ocean to my death, far away from any land, would the world even notice? Would I be forgotten?"

"The ocean would remember," Ilias replied. "The waves would carry your soul forever with their every rise and fall. The very creatures which live within it would see your descent, knowing another joins them but not in life. They would mourn. The sea is seemingly paired with death, but we can only take so much tragedy before it becomes too much. Perhaps this is why the Drowned were created. To prevent such sorrow from ever taking over."

"But I am not worthy of mourning. I'm nobody. And I am worth nothing. Not even life." Thompson shook rapidly, tightening his fists.

"Has the world truly taken so much from you that you've forgotten how to receive all the same?"

The Human shook his head. "I'm not sure. I don't think I've ever been given anything in my life before..."

Ilias grasped one of the Human's hands, and stood up. "Then come with me a moment. I wish to give you something."

Thompson shook his head. “Please. Don’t–”

“You need to see this. Please. Just come along.”

With a scoff, Thompson pushed himself upright, shaking his head, standing to meet the king. Gently, he was pulled toward Ilias. Into him.

Ilias held Thompson close and walked toward the water, then into it. Once deep enough inside, the long mer tail formed, and fins extended from his wrists and ears. His green eyes glowed bright against the darkness, clearly made to peer through the depths of the seas. Here, he clutched Thompson softly, and carefully began to swim out. Away from the shore.

Thompson watched as the sand grew further and further away until it no longer remained visible. He spoke not a word, just letting his sorrows run rampant through himself.

After several minutes, Ilias stopped, and shifted Thompson in front of himself. Here, the king smiled warmly, and pointed upward toward the vast, starry sky.

Tears streaking his face still, the Human looked up where the king pointed.

"Centuries ago, sailors used the stars to navigate the oceans, and cross them safely. All the same, those stars told stories and gifted them to children who looked at them in hope,” Ilias said. “No matter where you are in the world, the stars are always there. No matter where you are in the world, the water is always there. Nature is inherent. It's eternal. Hope and safety are always here. Waiting for you to find them. You only need let the world guide you."

Thompson gulped his sadness down again. "Then why? Why has my life led me away from the world? Why am I so blind to the future that I can't even see it?"

"When you spend forever in the dark, it hurts to look at the light. But it's there no less.” Ilias looked Thompson in the eyes. “I am here."

The Human’s mouth fell agape. He shook his head. “N–no.”

“Why not?” Ilias asked. “Why not accept love for a change?”

"I... I can't. How can I ever love again when I will lose you, or you will lose me? I couldn't bear to be with a man who has two sons, knowing you’ll all live forever and I won't–that you'll all be of the sea, but myself of the land. I am nothing compared to you! I am... nothing… Even as a person, I am nothing..."

"You are a great man with a great heart as vast as the seas," Ilias said, holding Thompson tighter now. "I never thought I would feel this way for a Human, but all the same, every Drowned was once Human. We aren't so different."

Thompson hiccupped, shaking. His aching heart seemingly sank into the ocean itself as he remained within it, held by the king.

"When a Drowned Embraces a Human, their love is gifted all the same. A bond is forged between the Drowned who makes another. These bonds create families. Parents, children, lovers, siblings. They are eternal and endless. There is no breaking the bond of two Drowned who’ve joined together. And they feel everything between one another. Joy and pain. Love and fear. Any and all emotion is shared.

“But I feel it all, even without such a bond between yourself and I. Your sorrow is great, and your pain greater. You fear and you grieve, but I am here. And I love. I love you, Thompson. Sweet Baris. I wish for nothing more than to see you happy–to see your smile and know your joy not as my own, but for you to feel yourself. You deserve happiness. I can bind us together in eternity beneath the very waters in which we tread, and I will hold you as my own. You will never be alone again. I promise."

The torrential tears dripping from Thompson’s eyes began to fall into the ocean. "I’m not worth it… I never will be…What have I done that's worthy of this?" he asked. "To gift me not just any Embrace, but yours? Why?"

Ilias smiled gently, pressing into the Human, holding him closer. "Because you are you. And all are worthy of love for the mere fact that they live. And I love you. The world takes so much that we often forget we can give all the same.

“Just as well, none must be worthy of the water's gift to receive it. One must simply embrace its love as their own. And I know you long for love. But look no further. We are here. Together. Between the stars that guided us to my kingdom, and the seas in which it resides. Please. Come home with me, Baris."

Thompson sobbed into the king now, harsh and ugly. "But... Matthew. He doesn't need me anymore. He has you. All the Drowned."

"That doesn't mean he can't use more love. You need it all the same. And if he does not welcome you then know that I do. I will be the one who brings you home and gifts you the Embrace." Ilias leaned in, and kissed Thompson on the cheek. "I will bind us together in eternity, and hold you as my own. You'll have a family–two sons, Matthew and Lyrus–and of course, me. Loneliness will never reach you again. Of that I swear."

Thompson trembled, trying to breathe but he couldn’t. He shook his head, sobbing harshly. “Does it hurt? Letting the magic take you?"

"No. It's peaceful. Your very soul is engulfed in serenity, and you know, in that moment, you're forever saved from all death and sorrow."

With a harsh cry, Thompson clutched the king dearly, clenching his eyes shut. "Please... Please just help me!!" he begged. "Make this stop! Take my pain away! Please..."

"I can give you what you need to make it leave in time. It will not fade immediately. But I will be there every moment you need someone. I will always love you, Baris. That will never change." Ilias smiled warmly. “You will learn to live in peace, not rest in sorrow. Let your mortal pains wash away into the sea. It’s time to come home.” The king lifted his hand to Thompson's heart, pressing it against him. The palm began to glow, and he shifted his face to see Thompson's, meeting the man's lips with his own which he kissed gently while pushing him backward, leading them both below the water.

The glow began to overtake Thompson, who kissed Ilias back, a warmth spreading from his heart through his entire body. The very tears upon his face washed away into the sea which now held him completely. And the man welcomed it.

As the glow intensified, both lovers remained connected for a long moment before Ilias backed away, shifting his hand off Thompson.

Slowly, the bright illumination faded from the man entirely as he lay within the king's loving embrace. And there he rested, a long, finned tail now in place of legs, and matching fins upon his wrists and ears. Gills opened from his sides, and he breathed through them, taking the water into his very being, merging himself with it at long last.

Ilias smiled. "Welcome home, my king."

Thompson–Baris–opened his eyes and looked at himself. Now Drowned, he gazed upon his new form in silent awe, examining the long tail and strange fins, the webbing between his fingers. And there, a feeling of serenity filled himself, overtaking his entire being. Baris sat upright, and threw himself into Ilias, clutching the king tighter, a wholeness and unity of sorts driving him toward the man.

A unity with his lover, Baris realized. A unity with his future–with the very seas in which he now lived and breathed.

Both parting slightly, Ilias’s smile only grew. "You are the greatest man I have ever met, and I will never be far from you. Even if I am, our eternal bond will hold us together. I feel your elation. The relief in your heart. And I am happy all the same. You’ve needed this for ages now, and it is yours to keep. I’ll make certain you never lose it."

There, a smile formed upon Baris’s face. He kissed Ilias passionately, deeply, holding the king against himself as he wrapped the long tail around his lover, pressing into him. “Thank you. Thank you, my love. My king. I… I love you. So much.”

“Please. Call me Ilias.” The king smiled, joining his tail with Baris’s, and both held one another for a long moment in silence.

Minutes passed, and finally Baris unlatched from his lover, shifting backwards. He looked at himself entirely now, and chuckled a little, smiling.

Ilias looked puzzled at his lover. “What’s funny?” he asked.

“I… I just realized a slight problem."

"Oh?"

"I can't swim."

Ilias suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh, gods! That is quite a problem, now isn’t it?” He grinned, and pat Baris’s shoulder gently. “Well there's no time like the present to learn. It's not that hard. I'll show you."

Baris grasped the king’s hand, who led him down into the depths, flicking his tail gently while keeping his and Baris’s arms parallel to themselves.

After many minutes, Ilias let go, and motioned for Baris to follow him.

And without missing a beat, Baris continued. Swimming close by. Swimming.

He was free.

The Drowned cut through the water with ease, as though the very universe parted to let him and Ilias pass, and both made their way toward a glistening, large kingdom with ornate bridges and city buildings spanning across the entire ocean floor.

This was the beauty of Limrias.

====================

Within the castle, Matthew and Lyrus lay within one another’s arms in their bed together, cuddled up smiling and content. Both looked outward from the window to the kingdom far below, then to each other, their minds at ease and their hearts entwined in love.

However, a knock came to their door. “Lyrus? Matthew? Are you awake?”

Ilias, they realized.

“We are! We’re coming!” Lyrus called. He helped Matthew up, and both held hands as they swam to the door. But Lyrus grasped the handle, and pulled it open.

There in the doorway, both smiling, hands together, Ilias and Baris tread as one. As Drowned.

Matthew’s eyes welled with tears. He charged Baris, and threw his arms around the man, squeezing him tight and pressing into him. “You–you’re–”

“I’m home,” Baris said, leaning into Matthew gently. “I’m grateful. For all of you. I owe you everything.”

“You owe nothing but to love your life,” Matthew said. He looked up at Baris. “Please. I know you’ve been hurting. I know you’ve been sad. But give this a chance. It’s going to get better now. We’ll all make sure of it.”

Baris nodded, smiling even more. “I know. I will. I promise. I will live, with you, and we will always be together. My heart is open to love, and I have that of Ilias. And I couldn’t ask for anything greater.”

Lyrus swam toward Baris and Matthew, putting one hand on each. “You have my love all the same. Gods know my dad needs it more, though.”

Everyone laughed, and leaned in, hugging one another.

And there, Baris felt it. The bonds between all of them. Each person of this family loved him, and all the same he loved them. Their feelings flowed through one another as though part of each other despite each belonging to different people. They were united. And nothing would ever tear them apart, for, nature’s love in the stars and seas had brought them together at long last.

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistakes you notice.)

• Characters: Levi Ackerman, fem!Reader

• Genre: fluff, angst

• Warnings: existential crisis

„Who am I?“

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

As I walk home from the market I quietly hum a song to myself. I feel my whole body tingle at the thought of this evening. Since the war against the titans is finally over, Levi and I have settled down. No more fights, no more orders, just him and I living the closest to a normal life we could possibly have after all we had to go through. And with that we finally got to try for a baby. A bit late for two people in their late thirties but for once fate meant it good with us and now I am here, about seven weeks pregnant. I have planned to make a nice dish, light a few candles and then to tell him. He will be so happy.

As I enter the door to our home I find Levi sitting on the floor, his wheelchair kicked over and his crutch has been broken in half. „Honey?“ I ask as I close the door and place the bags on the floor. „Is everything okay?“

„I‘m fine“, Levi says angry, obviously lying to me. He still can’t handle the fact that he can’t walk properly anymore. On good days he can walk short distances with his crutch but after a while he has to switch to his wheelchair and he absolutely despises it.

Carefully I walk towards him and crouch beside him. „May I help you getting up?“ „I said I‘m fine!“, he yells, making me startle at his volume. Instantly regret glows up in his tired eyes. „I‘m sorry.“

With a soft smile I sit down next to him and take his hand in mine. „It’s okay.“ But he shakes his head. „It’s not. I can’t just yell at you because I am frustrated over the fact that my leg is trash.“ I look over at the wooden crutch that’s showing it‘s sharp splinters at the position where it’s broken in half. Then I look at Levis hand to make sure he isn’t hurt. Even though he lost two fingers, his hands still have almost as much strength as they used to have a few years ago.

„I hate this feeling (Y/n)“, he whispers while he lets me take a closer look at his hands. „It scares me.“

After I examined his hands thoroughly I let go of them, to place my hands on his cheek. „You don’t need to be afraid anymore. It’s over Levi. We’re safe.“ But his eyes doesn’t soften, instead they start to fill up with tears. „That’s what’s scaring me.“

I let him cry, hoping it would make him feel a bit better. Softly I wipe away the hot tears that stream down his face while he shuts his eyes to make them stop pouring.

„I fought my whole life. My whole life was filled with fear, pain and war.“ Levi leans the weight of his head in my hand and I hold him. I will always hold him. „I was a known criminal in the underground, then I was a Captain, I was the strongest soldier of humanity. But now? Who am I now, (Y/n)? Who am I?“ His eyes find mine, desperate for an answer.

„You’re my husband“, I whisper with a smile. But my attempt to cheer him up failed, because now his sad eyes widen with shock. „Fuck, that sounded awful“, he cries out. I want to continue, but he interrupts me by grabbing my wrists. „I didn’t meant it like that! (Y/n), being your husband is the title I wear with the most pride. It’s just… It’s the only title that won’t bring me any pain.“

„I know Levi“, I reassure him with a slight giggle. „I didn’t interpret it like you thought.“ His grip softened again and he sighs relieved. „I should be happy because this is what I dreamed of but… It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel right that I am supposed to be safe.“

It looks like he hardly gets the words out of him. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this has to be for him. Yes, I experienced immense pain too, but Levi hasn’t stop experiencing it since he was four years old. The fact that he survived all of this, a lot of it all alone, makes him to the strongest man alive in my eyes. But now it’s like his life was taken away from him, even though this is supposed to be a good thing, he needs to get used to it. This is all new and surely super overwhelming for him.

With tears in my eyes I pull him into a hug. „You were my husband all of the time. You were a best friend, a person of trust and a loved one all along. And you will stay that. Just like you always stay humanity‘s strongest. You’re so much.“ I peck him on the cheek before I start to list all of the things he is. „You’re the strongest man of human kind, I would even go further and say you’re a legend. You’re my husband, the father of our child, my best friend-“ „I’m what?“, he suddenly interrupts me and pushes me a bit away from him so he can look me in the eyes. With that I realize what I just said.

„You’re not messing with me, are you?“ Levis eyes are opened wide, tears sparkling in them again, but this time they were tears of joy. „This wasn’t the situation in which I wanted to tell you, but it does the job too I guess“, I say with a wide smile.

„Are you serious?“ he asks again, to which I only nod. „You better are, you know how bad I want this!“ I giggle over his ,thread‘. „I planned to cook a nice dinner and tell you then.“

This time he was the one to pull me into a hug. Still in disbelief he asks over and over again. „Are you sure?“ „Are you positive?“ „Is this really happening?“ To which I all answer with amused ‚yes‘s.

„You’re going to be a Daddy, Levi“, I eventually whisper in his ear to make him stop asking if this is real. „I’m going to be a Daddy“, he repeats. „I’m going to be a Dad. I’m going to be a father.“ He continues to say it over and over again, using every word for Father he knows. I don’t interrupt him this time, because this is by far the most happy I have seen him for a very long time.

[prospectivehero]

THIS IS SO IMPORTANT GUYS!

First and foremost, I have two confessions. One, I haven't read Red Hood: Outlaws WebToon. It's on my list, but I will admit that I'm missing context. Two, though I talk about disability, my main focus is physical walking disabilities. This commentary should apply to every physically disabled human being if I'm doing this correctly, but I chose to have a specific focus for the sake of brevity.

I'd have very few nickles if I could have one for every time I saw a wheelchair-dependent character get suddenly healed. But it's still too many nickels. I can't blame Marvel or DC for my poor relationship with my own mobility aids. It didn't help anything to see Barbara Gordon or Charles Xavier suddenly be able to walk after seeing them for so long in their wheelchairs. Recovery and recuperation should never be scoffed at. We should celebrate when we can accomplish difficult goals and be happy for others who achieve what they thought was impossible. But these characters' changes aren't about recuperation. They're about ignorance.

Recuperation doesn't always mean full recovery from the viewpoint of a disabled person. Sometimes, "walking quickly" or "standing independently" isn't the end goal. It's usually more complicated than that. Small things like strengthening the core or practicing distance walking in a walker are crucial for someone's health or mobility. If it means they can walk independently in the process, then cheers! But sometimes standing isn't a possibility anymore. Many able-bodied people, without this context, may perceive this attitude as "giving up." I've had to explain to several different people that my choosing my wheelchair over my crutches to be a more functional human is not the same thing as quitting. But society has a model for success, and that model has a healthy set of legs.

Growing up, it broke my heart when I saw a character who had to experience a permanent and life-altering disability being suddenly cured. That's not a story of recuperation. That's a writer trying to "fix" something that was "wrong". I don't think the writers mean that as an insult. It's a terrible trope that's rooted in ignorance. But that ignorance is commonplace. It makes self-acceptance all the more difficult for a person who doesn't have full use of their body. Instead of being a person in a room who happens to use a wheelchair, that person suddenly becomes a paria because they are "physically incorrect."

Barbara Gordon, still paralyzed, marrying Dick Grayson is important. In their most standard form, weddings are supposed to be beautiful and romantic. Most of us dream about being the most beautiful, best versions of ourselves that we've ever been for one of the most special days of our lives. Barbara was the best version of herself when her father wheeled her down the aisle. She was Batgirl and is now Oracle, but she never stopped being Barbara. She is loved by her father, her adopted family, and her husband. The saccharine nature of that scene had nothing to do with a disabled woman being loved by an able-bodied man. It was a sappy, beautiful wedding being celebrated by our favorite dysfunctional found family.

I'm honestly really excited to read this webtoon. It is about Jason Todd, but the care and respect Patrick R. Young shows in this scene and how well it was depicted by Nico Bascuñán says a lot about how they handle the rest of whatever story they tell in this comic.

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Considering Chimera

Lyn's Writing Event Day 4

May 4th : Week 1: Chimera   18+

In Chimera legend, “an illusion of the mind; especially an unrealized dream”

Characters: Dr Scott White x OC Jennifer Turner

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Sleepwalker

Warnings: disabled person, angst, paralysis, mind control, somatization, dream control, stalking.

Word count: 1.5k (part 1)

It started one day, Scott was crashing hard after work in the morning and sleeping so hard he woke up disoriented and sweaty. He didn’t normally lose his control over his own mind, but the women in his dreams was getting stronger. He used to just see flashes in his dreams, a blonde smiling, a touch of her hand on his arm, a fantastical story that his mind followed like a movie you couldn’t look away from. But each night, it was more and more, and he had no idea who this woman was. Her face was etched in his mind, and he could draw her if he had that talent.

Scott sat up in bed midday and wiped his face with his hand, slow, the stubble of his beard growing out and soft. He looked at his watch, “2 pm, ok. Well maybe I’ll go for a run or something”, he said to the room, chuckling, “I wonder if I have seen this woman out and I just never put two and two together,” he got up and started the shower, letting the heat of the water revive his sensations and wake up to the present moment. Scott dried off, and got dressed, putting on his running shoes and setting a playlist for a run. He left his apartment, and started jogging almost immediately, heading for the hills about a mile away. If he sweat enough, Scott thought, ‘Maybe I can sweat this woman out of my mind’.

---

              You had seen him one day out on the trail and were enthralled by his height, build and endurance. You made a wish to yourself that you would find a way to get to him. But how, do you get someone you cannot meet to speak to you?  You were stuck in this wheelchair, watching the beautiful landscape outside. Wanting to be free, wanting to be healed, but knowing there was nothing you could do about your fate. Mark had made his claim to you with his attack, and you were a “saint” everyone said to pull through and heal as much as you had. But you were still paralyzed, and that isn’t something you can wake up from. So you chose to spend a lot of time, voraciously reading, and fantasizing, and writing and finding out how the mind can heal the body, and how the mind can maybe talk to other minds? It sounded crazy right? But maybe you were just clever and focused enough to do it. Maybe we really could create illusions and create worlds in other’s minds, just as easily as we could our own. Isn’t that what movies do for us, give us that stimuli of an accepted human experience?

              Jennifer put her journal down and sipped some water from her seating area. Her apartment overlooked the park, and she got to see all the runners’ jog by her several times a day. Today was a particularly breezy and warm Californian afternoon and her aid, Nancy had opened her windows so the spring breeze and blossom filled scent just filled her space with promise. Jenn missed running, she missed the feel of the wind on her skin, the sweat and high that came from pushing that extra half mile or so. She had made it through several marathons, but it only took one asshole one day to destroy her life.

---

              Jennifer saw him again, huffing and puffing around the bend in the trail, sweat seeping through his t-shirt, his legs long as he took giant strides, his feet hitting the pavement in that rhythmic way. She closed her eyes and focused, smiling as she saw his face in her mind’s eye. Scott felt a tingle in his temple and shook it off, toppling over a hedge and crashing into a flower bed. A woman walking a dog, stopped to check on him, and Jennifer opened her eyes to see him collect himself off the ground embarrassed. He looked up towards Jennifer’s building and Jennifer scooted her seat closer to the window, looking down, “Please see me please see me,” She said out loud. Scott caught his breath and rubbed his sweaty brow with his even sweatier arm.  The sun was still cresting and mirroring the glass fronted building across from the park, but he still felt a sensation to look up. He squinted, and when a cloud came to block the sun a moment, he saw two flashing eyes looking down at him from the, “2, 3, 4, 5” Scott counted out loud, “5th floor,” he looked back down to the door manned building and crossed the street to it.

Jennifer’s eyes grew wide, “Oh shit!” she blurted. Nancy came in from the kitchen, “DO you need something, love?” Nancy’s Irish lilt always snapped Jennifer back from her revelry. Jennifer turned to her, “Hey, actually I may have a visitor soon, could you, um.. help me get back to living room?” Nancy smiled, “Of course, let’s get your chair”. Nancy went towards the wheelchair in the corner, and placed the lift assist board under Jennifer’s butt, carefully transferring her to the chair. Jennifer placed her arms around Nancy’s neck for help, Jennifer still had her upper body support, but her legs were now for show. Her team said, she may recover some more, over time, but she had to do her exercises. She had to follow through and want to heal, and until she met, well, until she saw her running man, she didn’t have a reason to.

---

              Scott approached a burly looking man in a red uniformed suit at the building marked with a large metallic 724 above the overhang entranceway. The doorman was posted and smiled at him warmly. “Hello sir, how can I assist you?”  Scott paused, “Hey, I was wondering if I could see the woman on the 5th floor please?” The doorman looked at him, “Do you have a name, Sir?” Scott blew out a breath, “No, not exactly. Sorry” chuckles. “Well I can’t just let you in,” the doorman’s phone buzzed, “excuse me, a second,” Scott was wiping his face off again, with his short sleeve and whipping the sweat out of his hair, “Of course, sure”. The doorman returned, “She will see you now, its 514, Ms. Turner”. Scott blazed a smile again, “Thanks”, the doorman cleared his throat, “You might take care, she is a very sweet girl, and if I were you I would come back after you’ve cleaned yourself up”. Scott paused, looking at him seriously, then looking down at himself. Scott turned on his heel and left the building, “You know what, your right, thank you. What was your name?” “Burt, sir. Glad I could help”.  He nodded. Scott nodded back in respect and crossed the street again heading back for his apartment.

Jennifer was nervous, if she could pace she would, so instead she wore a hole in the floor with her eyes, and wrung her hands on a rag, like those dames used to do during the war. “Where is he, Burt would have let him up by now,” She called back down to Burt, “Burt? Did you send him up?” Burt cleared his throat, “Ms. Turner, I told him to come back more presentable, and he agreed”. Jennifer rolled her eyes, and tried to sound appreciative, “That’s very sweet of you, Burt, you didn’t have to do that. I just wanted to speak with him is all”.  Burt, paused, “Ms. Turner, I just want you to know that it is my job to maintain the safety of all the residents here”.

Jennifer cut in, “I know, but I don’t think he is a threat”.  “We do not know that yet Ms. Turner, I just think it doesn’t hurt to wait it out”. Jennifer sighed, “Well I certainly have time, don’t I, Burt”. Burt grimaced audibly, “I’m sorry Ms. Turner I did not mean anything by it, I’m sorry”. Jennifer’s heart smoothed, “Thank you Burt for looking after me, I appreciate it”. “Of course” Burt said and then hung up. Nancy looked at Jennifer inquisitive, “He’s not coming up then?” She shook her head, “That Burt is a good soul though, really looks after you” Jennifer shook her head, “He’s just a sweet old man, there’s nothing to worry about”. Nancy chuckled, “Well he doesn’t turn his head for me, fray and I talk him up an awful lot when I go out”. Jennifer giggled, “You have a thing for Burt, do you?” Nancy smiled, “Oh my yes, he’s so plump and sweet, I could eat him up, but I won’t” She giggled too. Nancy went back to her duties, and Jennifer rolled herself back to the window. She knew she wouldn’t see him, but now that he knew where she lived, it was only a matter of time before he came back to her.

(more to come… stay tuned)

@legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @linasofia @riepu10 @scariusaquarius @lathalea

#Lyn's writing Event

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

one shocking thing that people with ADHD do that makes us the most annoying bitches in disability awareness and acceptance circles

I encourage both ADHD and non-ADHD people to read this, I'm hoping awareness on both sides can lead to reducing some of the hostility I've seen towards people with ADHD in disability circles. And yes, my fellow ADHDers, part of fixing this problem is us doing the work to avoid using communication techniques that can be triggering to people who have experienced ableism.

I want to talk about something I call reciprocal storytelling. Basically, telling a story that is in some way connected to a story someone else just told. Non-ADHD people do it too, but I've noticed people with ADHD do it a lot more than other people. If you ever listen to two people with ADHD have a conversation, it's pretty much a nonstop string of loosely related stories.

So why is this problematic when communicating with other disabled people? Unfortunately, ableist people often weaponize reciprocal storytelling to belittle the experiences of disabled people. I think the easiest way to have people understand this is with an example.

We're going to create a character called Laurie. Laurie has chronic, debilitating knee pain. Laurie just met a woman, Sandra, who injured her knee while running a few years ago. Sandra's injury was painful and interfered with her life quite a bit, but it's healed now. Their conversation goes something like this. Laurie: I can't walk with you up those stairs. Do you want to take the elevator with me so we can keep talking? Sandra: Sure. You know, I had my knee injured once while running. Took me a few months to get back into the swing of things. Something that really helped me was exercising it. Laurie: I'm sorry that happened, knee injuries are the worst, especially if you enjoy being active. Unfortunately working out hasn't helped. The thing that's worked the best has been not pushing myself too hard. Sandra: I thought that too, but I worked through the pain and it eventually went away. You just have to not give up. Laurie: haha, yeah I guess. Well, this is my floor, got to go.

Sandra was ableist in this conversation. She asserted that she could treat Laurie's pain despite knowing nothing about it and having no medical experience. When Laurie said that she had either already tried Sandra's method or thought it would be dangerous, Sandra less-than-subtly hinted that Laurie wasn't trying hard enough to get better. In this conversation, reciprocal storytelling became a tool to make Laurie feel guilty for being disabled. Now, let's look at a scenario of a person with ADHD talking to another disabled person:

Paul has ADHD. He's in a meeting for the disability club at his college. Right now, Ron, a manual wheelchair user, is talking about an experience he had on campus. Ron: I went to Professor Smith's class today and when I got there, there was a chair halfway blocking the door. I asked him to move it so I could get into the classroom and he told me to move it myself. Obviously, that's going to be really difficult for me to do since I have to use my hands to propel. I asked again for it to be moved and he called me lazy. Paul: Oh, Professor Smith was ableist to me last semester! I have an accommodation to sit in the front of the class. When I got there one day there were no front-row seats available. When I went to him he told me seats were first come first serve and that I should have the self control to pay attention to him and not the people in front of me.

To a person with ADHD, this conversation may seem harmless and non-ableist. It's just one person sharing a story related to another person's story. In fact, Paul might have even been trying to add credibility to Ron's story and encourage him to report it. However, this is not how Ron, a person who has likely experienced ableism, would probably interpret this conversation. To him, this might come across as Paul trying to make this experience about him and take attention away from what he had experienced. Or, it might come across as saying that having trouble paying attention in class because of a professor's actions is the same as being physically barred from entering a class because of a professor's actions. Either way, Ron is likely to leave the conversation feeling that Paul values talking about his own disability over listening to the experiences of others. Eventually, if this happens too often, Ron and other members of the group may begin to resent Paul for his perceived self-centeredness.

So how do we fix this? One, on the part of people with ADHD, practice active listening, try to make sure others are done speaking before you begin, and avoid jumping into talking about yourself without giving any feedback to what you just heard. For people without ADHD, communicating how you feel and why is key. The ADHD people in your life might not know they're hurting you if you don't tell them. Even if the ADHD person initially responds with hurt or offense, this doesn't mean the conversation failed. A lot of people with ADHD also have rejection-sensitive dysphoria and may need time to calm down and think about what you said before they can apply it.

[hectorthedoggo]

part 2/9 of the fic!! And, i decided to write kazui instead of Mahiru because i realized that mahiru's in a wheelchair. but i also don't have a clue on what's going on with that man. so i may or may not just make two shidou parts.

again, this is unedited and stuff so it may be a little confusing. I also haven't written Yuno's perspective. at all. so uhm bear with me idk her character that well

The Milgram prison was usually pretty cold, but today, it was cold in both senses. Yuno’s straitjacket helped, but her school uniform underneath was not a benefactor in her warmth.

She was fine though, and still got by in her room, under the sheets. Hmm… this is comfortable, but I have to go eat.

She resolved to get out of bed, loosely flattening her hair, tying it up into a ponytail so it wouldn’t be too much of a mess.

Opening the door, she sauntered over to the place where she could prolong her life by another few hours, continuously. Like a little checkpoint.

She came over to grab the food that was left out for her, and that too was cold. At least they thought of me.

She slowly ate it alone. It tastes dull. Who makes this? Whatever, I’m thankful that I’m getting free food.

It was bothersome to go through the motions like this, the prison environment with a tangible fog of depression and despair, but she did it anyway.

A small clinking sounded from outside of the cafeteria. Ah, the warden. I suppose they’re fun to tease.

They stepped in, cape clutched to the areas of their bare skin, until they saw her and let go of it to appear more formal.

She snorted. They’re like an animal standing on its hind legs to appear intimidating. They’re less scary than an everyday person.

They scowled at her. “What’s so funny, Yuno?”

“You!”

Goosebumps formed on their uncovered arm and legs. Do they not have an alternate uniform to wear when it’s cold? “That answer is disrespectful. I will not tolerate it.”

While their words sounded intimidating, they avoided eye contact and their ears turned pink.

“C’mon~ Disrespectful? Stop being so uptight, you’re basically one of us.” She was going for more of a reaction, and she got it.

“I’m the warden! I- you- you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep repeating that enough and maybe it’ll come true one day. I too am, deemed by the stupid voices, ‘not a prisoner’, but look at me.” She indicated the straitjacket.

The voices had been less chatty today, but they seemed to have been bothering Futa more nowadays.

Es froze up at the question to their authority, and clenched their fist. “I’m not talking to you anymore. I don’t have time for your antics.”

“Hmm~ have fun freezing to death! I hope your room has good heating! If not, well, I think that’s one of many of Milgram’s flaws!” This’ll get a rise out of them. I need a good laugh.

They turned around to face her, scowling. “Milgram isn’t flawed. They’re just… busy.”

Wait, that’s actually concerning. She dropped her teasing tone. “Wait, do they seriously not have heating? Do you have no other clothes you can wear?”

Es bit their lip. “No.”

Jeez, that’s depressing… Wait, aren’t 15 year olds prohibited by law to work in conditions like that?

“That’s bad working conditions… you’re gonna catch a cold.”

“Stop being concerned, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you?”

“I have my ways of keeping warm.” Hm, like how? What could they have at their disposal?

Yuno ran through a list of things they would have access to in her mind. “Wait, so… blankets?”

Their eyes widened, and Yuno knew she had gotten it. “Haha, so you do use blankets. That’s kinda cute…”

They glared daggers at her, and quickly grabbed their food, a slight shiver going through their body.

They were pouting as they turned back to go back to their room. Hey, that’s kinda like how Mu does it… interesting.

A little image of Es swaddled in blankets, doing work with their little pouty face and rat’s nest of hair came to her mind, and she giggled.

Es purposefully bumped her shoulder on the way out.

The lingering smile that came from the earlier interaction faded away into a frown. 

It may be funny now, but are they okay?

Only time can tell, I suppose.

[justatalkingface]

I know this may be a bit of a hot take and you might disagree with me

... But I think the story would've been better if Izuku stayed quirkless.

If he did, the whole "anyone can be a hero" message wouldn't be as flat or limited. And his past wouldn't be ignored completely. Including actually seeing more of the world's flaws.

And the thing is I'm expecting him to be Batman or Ironman, I just wanna see him struggle to keep up with those with quirks and prove that those without quirks can be good heroes.

You don't need an op power or facing big bad villains to tell a good story. Sometimes internal or simple conficts like these can be enough.

Hmm... you know, you're not wrong. A lot of the problems I have (before Hori starting rushing to finish, anyways) have to do with the focus on power levels.

Granted, a lot of the plot would have to be vastly changed, AFO flat out removed, at least from the present (I don't care how crippled he is, him being trapped in a wheelchair wouldn't stop someone who has potentially all and any Quirks from being game breaking hax), and so on, but... it could definitely work; the shape of it is there.

The League, for example: early on especially, the focus on them seemed to be about their cause, about each of them had a problem with something that they wanted better. It was hard to take it seriously, though, when the only ones with any development were nuts, and those without it just didn't care to object to whatever murders they got into. Like, Dabi: in a horrifying way, he's the sane one out of the developed League members. He has a goal, he has steps to get there, there's at least a bare bones plan, and he's willing to put in the work and not blab about it to make it happen. This puts him head and shoulders above everyone else, whose planning seems to be, 'If we kill enough people everything will work out'.

Dabi is, I say this again, nuts. He's a suicidal sort-of-anarchist out to tear the present order just to watch it die and plans to murder his family, whose power set explicitly hurts him all the time. He's literally The Man Too Angry To Die; Dabi should be the crazy one of the team, not the sane one.

Meanwhile, Toga is a victim of societal and familial abuse. Toga wants to be accepted for who she is. She wants a family, love. It's just that, instead of talking about abnormal Quirks, or how society doesn't accept them, or how she wants to, like, drink a blood bag in public without issue and that's OK, her actual, genuine goal is A, to have the freedom to attack and kill anyone she finds 'cute', and B, to have a friend group that accepts that as valid.

Shove down everyone's crazy levels under the Dabi Benchmark of Sanity, take away AFO's direct influence, and suddenly the League is far more dealable for a Quirkless hero, but also has a mission statement that you can sympathize with.

Stain is, I've said, blatantly two dimensional, and tries to murder one of the most actively outgoing and helpful heroes we've seen in the series for being 'false'. Flesh him out, give him actual 'acceptable' targets, and that's a thing that could get a lot of play.

UA could still be the focus, but with less life risking bullshit, and more focus on Izuku proving himself and struggling at every step against the Quirkless prejudice that used to be a thing until Izuku stopped being Quirkless. Bakugou's assholishness, Aizawa's biases, the non-hero classes apparent jealousy of the hero course, the mediatization of heroics; all of these could easily drive the story for a long while.

Hell, All Might as the faded hero mentor could still be a thing; there's some good fanfic out there about him taking Izuku under his wing without passing on OFA. The dynamic was so wholesome while it was allowed to exist in canon that I'm a sucker for it, and it'd be great for him not to be shoved in a corner as an incompetent has-been, and instead continue to be an actual character who does things.

...Though there's a question of how much of the not Quirk powers would remain; it's clear that MHA bodies can, for no apparent reason, operate at levels far beyond human, even when it has nothing to do with anything. Endeavor gets smeared across several buildings by that High End and is still intact, Toga has not!teleportation and is a defacto super ninja for no apparent reason other than allowing her to fight toe to toe with people who can level buildings, Gran Torino gets stabbed through approximately all of his organ and lives... if you get rid of those, it'd cut down on how DRAMATIC a lot of the fight would be for sure (which is pretty much the point, just flashily smashing people into and through walls or buildings, or blowing them up, just to see it happen... also, it'd probably be good if Bakugou's building wrecking gauntlets weren't a thing), but it'd raise the stakes when someone getting punched through the stomach actually kills them, and force more time on thought out fights, and things that aren't fighting.

These, along with points I and others have raised before, could all be uses to make a tighter plot about society, about what it means to be a hero, not one guy who breaks the setting with his bullshit Quirk and his one perfect counter he accidently made then failed to stop, despite his overwhelming superiority in every possible way, for probably close to a century until it became too strong for him to beat.

Then we could go back to characters with characterization, an Izuku who we root for, a story with acknowledged trauma and biases, all the things MHA still tries to pretend to be about, even though it's clear at this point it's just about how launch the strongest blow.

In other words, restrict the scale of it to concentrate on a better story, not better powers.

[superconductivebean]

I'm going to be obvious and ask for Aesop Sharp for the character questions

By the way, love your posts

link to the game

Hi Endy!! ^ ^ always happy to deliver!

How I feel about this character

When I saw him I knew it: he is the resident foster dad for a whole school of little disaster children who if not out of malice, out of sheer curiosity or absent-mindness will pull out a stunt he will have to deal with. The man knows not a single moment of rest; he will guard his private quarters with his leg and when it is no more, with his life.

I like me a grump of an uncertain age who likely will eventually remember a story or two from his days in service -- put in a some kind of narrative to have an aesop from it. It's a headcanon, but Sharp might feel an intensive to turn his life experience into cautionary tales because he is de-facto teaching the wizarding world's future; he can affect the future by not letting it see the criminal side of life alluring.

I will answer the next question or I'd never shut up how this shift in perspective -- from the catcher to seeing the precursors -- affected him and shaped his understanding of the task he used to perform.

But I won't hide it that I find his character very complex and alluring in a sense of putting him through very intricate debates and trying to guess where his liking and siding will fall.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I ship him with my f!oc I made to be his partner.🥺 Don't tell Maarty how she died, or I'd be kidnapped and shipped to Czechia to write a story where she survives and lives with Aesop happily ever after.

Then, I ship him with my another f!oc, the librarian intern. She was hired to be trained for the further work at the Ministry's archives -- including these of Hogwarts -- after studying and working overseas.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Mirabel and Sirona.

They're seem like the resident therapist group, either helping out folks or supporting them, they're not people, they're sunshine.

One Sirona's line I can still recall by heart:

it’s a joy to see anyone 'blossom’ — but particularly one who doubted they ever would.

I know she said to MC par the course of conversation about her and Mirabel's school years, but imagine her watching Aesop going a long way of learning how to approach life after the injury, the wheelchair and cane, life with a limp.

My unpopular opinion about this character

We had many talks over the course of months about him and I… can't call any opinion of him unpopular? like, in a sense it's controversial?..

Calling him a whimsy in denial isn't it.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

A scene where he is in the one room with Eleazar and listening to his ancient magic musings. After he's done, telling him to look at the corked bottle of firewhisky at the table before them and ask himself how did he manage to speak from the bottom of it. They didn't even get an inch closer to it from where they stood but here they were, already unadulterated and lost without a single glass. "What has gotten into you, Eleazar; you think about your theories one more time and you might get yourself a test subject or a manifestation; knowing you, you'd sign me up under your tasks for the research antics, and I have a hefty amount as is to my own cause, so if I may ask you to stop this with an immediate effect, heed my humble plea. Stop. Now."

[isabelopaque]

if i may ask, what did grizzly say about a disabled person in pd? i don’t watch that campaign but am very curious about what’s going on with that

and yeah i’m genuinely surprised that there aren’t any disabled people other than drey in riptide, and his disability is like, exclusively a punchline? like “it’s impractical for there to be disabled people at sea fighting monsters” doesn’t work as an excuse because this is fuckin dnd and there’s so much cool magic weapon shit you can do with mobility aids. like off the top of my head i think of gazelle from the first kingsmen film and bentley’s dope ass wheel chair in the sly cooper games. it flies it launches bombs it has a sniper scope it can go 80mph. and those are just the two that immediately come to mind! maybe i’m out of line here it’s just. idk. idk this ask got away from me

yeah i got you! sorry this took so long to answer. they met up with a character npc who used to be a villain and hes now in a wheelchair. the characters first questions are 'what happened to him'. grizzlys reaction. in particular was. very bad. he said to the characters face he "deserved it" and "you had it coming, karmas a bitch" (in reference to being disabled) for being a bad person which is such a bad like. mindframe to have. being disabled is not a punishment or a sin its just something that happened but thats not how grizzly treated it and when he got criticism for it he said it was his character choice and defended himself. i dont remember his exact words as he deleted the entire questions channel but it was along the lines of it was his choice to make the character say that so its okay.

and GOD ME TOO. society if there were any disabled characters in riptide who were treated normally. all those things you listed could be easily done and its sooo frustrating that he hasnt even. tried. youre not out of line dw i appreciate the ask

[also-mcsquared789]

Disco Elysium — Day 1!

Holy shit! The last few hours of me playing this has been an absolute whirlwind... learning all about the world, the governments and the conflicting politics, all the characters and factions and the hanging corpse at the centre of it all. While being absolutely off my rocker while I was at it, as my poor sidekick attempted in vain to ignore my witticisms and absolute chicanery.

I knew beforehand this game was going to be something special from everything I'd been told, but I don't think it was the incredibly colourful writing or the stylistic presentation that did it for me... but when, as I was talking to the manager, my horrible necktie compelled me to yeet myself across the room into the path of a poor old lady in her wheelchair. That's when I grew to love it.

So, I am embroiled in a murder case — that seems to be a lot less about figuring out the murder itself, but about navigating all the factors around it. There were two horrible kids who mocked me with racial slurs (to the point where I considered shooting one of them in the face). There was this rich negotiator who tricked me into figuring out her criminal drug conspiracy, of which I have yet to solve... there were these two old men who shat on me for successfully beating them in a game of shotput. And I have not met these infamous Claire brothers yet, but I HAVE met their henchman Measurehead: He falls on that dial of being so unbelievably racist that he becomes fascinating to listen to, in all his utter madness. Heh, it was a big day.

I will say that I'm not much of a leftist, so a lot of what I've seen about the game's politics is going pretty well over my head. But in regard to the case, part of me does have a theory that several members of the Union is responsible for this supposed man's lynching, and the attempt to cover it up (from speaking to Sylvie) — possibly due to a conflict within themselves. I suspect the dead man may be one of the Claire brothers, Edgar... but that is of course based in not much fact. Considering what I've heard about the main brother leading this group, I do think it would make sense for him to do it — but even if it was, I suspect the big questions surrounding the case will be about whether I choose to expose it. And I don't think the answer to that will be very simple...

My unnamed character, meanwhile, is going through the wringer. I've tried to hold him back, maybe a little too much — it took the entire morning for me to gain enough morale to be able to even approach the body — but it does not take a lot for him to slip the cracks of what we would know as sanity! I've died only once, and that was only because I had failed to kick a mailbox... but rest assured, I've learned my lesson and will not be doing that again. 😂 As for poor Kim, he clearly is better than me at my job — and I hope I will have a lot more opportunities to show my appreciation of him as we go. He has to put up a lot with me, but it seems more and more that these paths need to be taken to uncover the heart of this mystery. More than anything, I hope there will be an opportunity for the both of us to escape the political machinations here safe and sound! And maybe also beat up the Cuno(s?) while we're at it.

I have finished most of Day 1 by 8pm, and will start Day 2 when I get back to it. Thank you everyone for recommending this game! It is all so much — maybe too much — but I am deeply entrenched in it now. I owe it to myself to give this character a happy ending, despite all the intrusive thoughts and profound hopelessness! I just hope I can do ir by the end of the week.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to ask me any questions that you can! (I have not been able to get into the harbour yet, nor the village. I know of several ways I can speed up time, which I think I may have to do so in the future as I close out more leads.)

[thebreakfastgenie]

Let's talk about House, baby, let's talk about House MD

Before I begin this rant I just want to acknowledge that I am vaguing multiple specific posts about House MD and also the growing attitude toward that show I am seeing on this website generally.

The idea of a doctor who is an asshole, just a total garbage person, was not new when House MD came on the scene in 2004. Scrubs started in 2001, E.R. had multiple doctors like that dating back to the 90s, there were bastard doctor characters on St. Elsewhere in the 80s. House was a fresh take on the Dr. Jerk trope, but it wasn't about setting him apart from every other TV doctor who was a total saint.

The House MD writers also did not luck into the disability and addiction story--that was a very deliberate part of the show. There is an entire episode where House uses his own story in a lecture to medical students and we find out that he was repeatedly dismissed (including as drug-seeking, before he had any history of addiction) and misdiagnosed and eventually diagnosed the problem himself. This isn't exactly portrayed as a victory for self-advocacy, because House himself is a doctor who thinks other doctors are stupid. Which brings me to my next point: it is also an explicit part of the show that House's disability, chronic pain, and addiction did not make him the way he is. Cameron assumes they did and wants to fix him and when she asks Stacy what he was like before she finds out he was exactly the same. His abrasive personality, his dislike fo authority, and his distrust of institutions all predate his experience. It does clearly influence him, but it is not his origin story, which is probably one of the best and most interesting writing choices they made. House's irreverent, anti-authority attitude may be explained by being raised by a strict, military, abusive father. This is first raised in season 3 and explored throughout the series.

House's addiction is such a core part of his character it's easy to forget it's a fairly recent development in his life. House doesn't even admit he's addicted to Vicodin until halfway through season 1. Wilso is an enabler, but the reason he hasn't complained much up to this point is because House hasn't been using Vicodin in these quantities since his surgery; it's escalating because now in addition to chronic pain he is dealing with an addiction. The story of House's addiction--having a legitimate prescription for real chronic pain--was somewhat ahead of the curve in terms of mainstream awareness of prescription drug abuse and the opioid crisis. This makes sense because there were doctors who consulted on House and they did do research, even if they took at time extreme poetic license with the medicine.

Gregory House is bad disability representation in two ways. The first is intentional. He does not have solidarity with other disabled people. He often looks down on them and uses derogatory language. He thinks his problems are worse than anyone else's; there's an entire episode about him beefing with a wheelchair-using doctor over a parking space. He blames his disability for all of his problems; House isn't a jerk because he's depressed, but he is depressed, and he thinks his disability is the sole cause. He goes to extreme lengths to try to cure it. It was not his disability but his resentment of her that caused his ex-girlfriend Stacy to leave him. Whether Stacy made the right decision or not is up to interpretation, but it's worth noting House was willing to risk death--and the chances were serious enough that Cuddy said Stacy's choice saved his life--rather than become disabled. Whether that was motivated by a fear of living a disabled life, House's arrogant belief that the risky bypass procedure would work, or a combination is also up to interpretation.

The other way that House is bad disability representation is not intentional. The show did tell an intentional and interesting story about House's disability, but they were inconsistent about it. Sometimes he is physically disabled, other times the issue is only chronic pain. When they discuss the details, it sounds like he should have reduced mobility as a result of a piece of his thigh muscle being missing. But in other episodes, when he is temporarily pain-free, he immediately returns to an active, able-bodied lifestyle. It's possible that he could find ways of enjoying those activities with his damaged leg if he were not in pain, but that would require training and not happen overnight.

House is not a hero to people desperate for their chronic illness to be taken seriously. House will go to extreme lengths to diagnose a patient, but only if he, personally, finds the patient interesting. He turns down most of the people who try to seek care from him because he is not interested. This comes up several times. And it's not because he's in demand; Cuddy and Wilson both frequently tell him off for not doing enough work and spending most of his time goofing off. House will pay attention to symptoms other doctors ignored or dismissed, but only after a patient interests him which is almost always because of an acute, dramatic event. He calls the other doctors idiots, but he calls the patients idiots too. He's often cruel to his patients, regularly disregards their wishes, and frequently ruins their lives. He is occasionally shown to care about them as more than puzzles, but it's extremely difficult for him to admit.

There's a scene I see quoted a lot these days, where House makes a point to Cameron about the definition of normal. Without the full context and Hugh Laurie's delivery, it appears a lot more progressive than it actually is. House does mean it on some level, but there is also irony involved, and he's mostly trying to score points in his argument with Cameron. House is a very late 2000s character, and "I'm not racist/sexist/etc, I hate everyone equally" is a pretty apt summary of the character. Cameron even says "you're a misanthrope, not a misogynist." House isn't quite South Park "caring about things is cringe" levels of detached irony, but he's on that spectrum. House cares about what he cares about, and anything else is stupid. There are multiple episodes where he encounters various activists or just strong believers in particular causes and he always mocks them. Whether his personal beliefs align with theirs is irrelevant; he thinks they're idiots.

What really makes House MD unique as a show is that it's a medical procedural. Instead of trying to solve a murder, the audience is trying to guess the diagnosis. Being brilliant, abrasive, disabled, and addicted make House an interesting character and--along with the dialogue and Hugh Laurie's performance--made him stand out among 2000s network television protagonists. It's very strange, as someone who watched the show back then, to see how people characterize House and House MD on tumblr now.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 32

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS

In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is active once more. "It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizarding styling himself Lord- well, you know who I mean- is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's' em- ploy. We believe that the dementors are currently tak- ing direction from Lord- thing. "We urge the magical population to remain vigi- lant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month." The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as re- cently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry as- surances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more." Details of the events that led to the Ministry turn- around are still hazy, though it is believed that He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening. Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, re- instated member of the International Confederation of wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wiz- engamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruit- ing followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the Boy Who Lived-

"There you are Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow." Hermione said, looking at Harry over the top of the paper.

We were sitting in the hospital wing. I'd been moved into a wheelchair and I was rolling back and forth between the door at the end of the wing and the windows, getting used to pushing me around. While Madam Pomfrey said that my legs would be healed soon and I would be able to walk, there hadn't been any improvements that I could see and I figured it was time to get used to the damn thing.

Hermione was still in bed and so was Ron. Ginny was curled up at the end of Hermione's bed, having been out of the hospital wing for some days now. Broken ankles healed over night after all.

Neville's nose had been fixed and he was sitting in a chair between Ron and Hermione's beds. Luna was also sitting on a chair, however, she was reading the Quibbler and wasn't taking in a single word anyone else was saying.

Trang was also still sitting in bed. Dumbledore had told Madam Pomfrey to keep her in bed until he came to talk to her. So far, he hadn't talked to her yet.

Ernie and Susan were lounging on an empty bed too. It was weird that they were hanging out with us. I was so used to it being just Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. And I could've gotten used to Luna, Neville, and Ginny or just Ernie and Susan. But everyone together. . . but nine was a powerful number of course, just like seven.

"You're going to break the wheels on that." Trang said with amusement as I turned the chair, crashing it into the wall.

"No I'm not!" I said brightly, "It's magically modified."

"So why are you pushing it with your hands?" Trang asked, still amused. "Just give it commands and let it teleport you."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"So." Ron said darkly. "he's the Boy-Who-Lived again now, though, is he? Not such a show-off maniac anymore, eh?" He grabbed a bunch of chocolate frogs and threw them to us and ripped his own open with his teeth.

"Yes, they're very complimentary about you, now, Harry." Hermione said, scanning the newspaper. "'A lone voice of truth. . . perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story. . . forced to bear ridicule and slander. . .' Hmm, I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering, though. . ." She winced slightly, putting a hand to her ribs. She had to take ten different potions a day so I didn't pity myself much that I had to take seven. "'You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview With Harry Potter, page nine. . .' Well, it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago. . ." Hermione said, folding up the newspaper and tossing it away.

"Daddy sold it to them." Luna said vaguely. "He got a very good price for it too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer and see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"That sounds lovely." Hermione said in a strangled voice. I caught Ernie's eye and turned away, laughing.

"So anyway, what's going on in the school?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Flitwick's' got rid of Fred and George's swamp." Ginny said. "He did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off-"

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking startled.

"Said it was a good bit of magic." Susan piped up from where she'd been sitting quietly, flicking through a gossip magazine.

"I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George." Ernie said thoughtfully.

"They sent me all these, you know." Ron said, pointing to the mound of chocolate frogs by his bedside. "Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?"

"So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?" Hermione asked and she sounded very disapproving.

"Yes, everything's settled right back down." Neville said.

"Even Peeves." Susan said with a grin. "Though Peeves seemed a little disappointed."

I giggled.

"I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?" Ron asked.

"Not at all. He's really really miserable, actually. He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts." Ginny said in a low whisper and the ten of us looked over at where Umbridge was lying on the bed.

Dumbledore had gone to rescue her from the Centaurs. No one knew how he had done it and not received a single mark. I highly doubted that he'd used magic against them. Umbridge wasn't speaking either.

"Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock." Hermione said in a low whisper.

I snorted. Dad had come in to see me and she'd uttered a little scream. He'd ignored her and I burst into uncontrollable laughter as Madam Pomfrey had come dashing out with her wand raised. She'd seen dad, rolled her eyes, and slammed the office door shut.

"Sulking, more like." Ernie said.

"Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this." Ron said and made soft clip-clop noises with his tongue. Professor Umbridge bolted upright, looking around wildly.

"Anything wrong, Professor?" Madam Pomfrey asked, sticking her head out the door. My hand was pressed over my mouth to keep from laughing to hard.

"No. . . no. . . no, I must've been dreaming." She said and laid back down. Ginny, Hermione, Susan, and I all muffled our laughs by our bedclothes.

"Speaking of Centaurs, who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?" Hermione asked.

"Yes." I said promptly. "They'll split up the years between them. Firenze can't go back unfortunately."

"Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good. Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better. . ."

"Yes he is!" I said a bit angrily.

"How can you say that?" Hermione asked Ron. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?"

"Bet Elizabeth could make a lot of prophecies." Susan said with a grin.

"Oh yeah?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "And what would you want to know?"

"Who I marry!" Susan said, her eyes lighting up. "Can you see that?"

"If you give me a moment." I said and closed my eyes. The entire hospital wing seemed to be holding their breath and I grinned and then laughed.

"Who is it?" Susan practically shrieked.

"Well. . ." I said slowly. "You marry Ernie here."

Ernie and Susan looked at each other with a shocked expression on both of their faces and everyone roared with laughter except for Luna.

"Really?" Ernie asked, sounding surprised.

I nodded, "Yes, you guys will have two children. Your first child is a girl who you will name Irene and then you will have a boy after that who you will name. . . Justin."

"Justin?" Susan asked in disbelief.

"After Justin Finch-Fletchley." I said with a grin. "Oh and Neville, you're going to marry Hannah Abbott."

"I am?" Neville asked in alarming disbelief.

"Yes, and you'll become the Professor of Herbology." I said. "And you and Hannah will have a daughter who you will name Luna."

Luna and Neville looked at each other and then Luna said, "Well that's a pretty name." And then entire hospital wing burst into laughter.

"What about me?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Nope, I'm keeping that one a secret." I said with a mischievous grin.

"That's not fair!" He said hotly and I simply shrugged my shoulders.

"Lee Jordan is going to marry Alicia Spinnet and then lets see. . . Anthony Goldstein is going to marry Mandy Brocklehurst. . . they'll have a daughter."

Susan shook her head. "I can't believe that you can foresee all of that."

"Anyways." Hermione interrupted, looking annoyed. "It's a pity that the prophecy broke."

"Yeah, it is." Ron said. "Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either- where are you going?" Harry had stood up.

"Er-Hagrid's." Harry said. "You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are. . ."

"I'll come too!" I said brightly. "It'll give me more practice with the chair."

We left the hospital wing and I immediately goaded him with questions, "When are you going to tell them the contents of the prophecy?"

"Not yet." Harry said, keeping pace with my chair.

He helped me down the steps and as we entered the entrance hall, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from a door on the right. I brought the wheelchair to a stop and Harry and the other three stopped dead too.

"You're dead Potter." Malfoy said.

"Funny, you'd think I'd have stopped walking around. . ." Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

Malfoy looked extremely angry and I tried to shift uncomfortably in my chair but my waist still wouldn't allow movement. "You're going to pay. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father. . ."

"Well, I'm terrified now. I s'pose Lord Voldemort's just a warm-up compared to you three- what's the matter? He's your dad's mate, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?" Harry stated sarcastically.

Draco started to advance, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. I realized that I didn't have my wand- I'd left it in the hospital wing. I felt a bit of fear. I was utterly defenseless. Why had I thought just because I was in the school meant I was safe? "You think you're such a big man, Potter. You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison-"

"I thought I just had." Harry said.

"The dementors have left Azkaban. Dad and the others'll be out in no time. . ." Draco hissed.

"Yeah, I expect they will. Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now-" Harry said.

Draco's hand flew toward his pocket and I screamed, catching my hand in the wheel as I tried to move backwards and cried out in pain. Harry had his wand out in a flash, pointing it at them.

"Potter!" Professor Snape emerged from the staircase that led to his office. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked in an extremely cold voice, striding over to the five of us.

"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir." Harry said but I was too scared to laugh. My face had frozen into fear, my hand still between the frame and wheel, and Severus' eyes swept over my face. He approached me, quickly helped me with my hand, and then turned back to Harry.

"Put that wand away at once. Ten points from Gryff-" Professor Snape said and then stopped. There were no more points to take away- Gryffindor's hourglass had zero in it. "Ah, I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to-"

"Add some more?" A different voice said.

I spun my wheelchair around with difficulty to see Professor McGonagall stumping up the stone stairs. She was carrying her tartan carpet bag in one hand and leaning on a walking stick with her other hand. I felt a spring of envy go through me. At least she could walk. I quickly pushed my bitterness away. She was lucky she wasn't dead.

"Professor McGonagall, out of St. Mungo's I see!" Professor Snape said, striding forward.

"Yes, Professor Snape. I'm quite as good as new. You two- Crabbe- Goyle- here, take these up to my office for me." She said, shoving her traveling cloak and carpetbag into their hands.

"Right then." Professor McGonagall said, turning to the hourglasses as Crabbe and Goyle walked up the stairs to her office. "Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for altering the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?"

"What?" Professor Snape snapped and a reluctant grin came to my face cause I knew he'd heard her. "Oh- well- I suppose. . ."

"So that's fifty each for Potter, two Weasleys, Longbottom, and Miss Granger. Then Fifty for Miss Lovegood of Ravenclaw. Then Macmillan, Miss Bones, and Miss Kane of Hufflepuff."

Red rubies, blue sapphires, and yellow amber fell into the hourglasses of the three houses. "Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape- so there we are. . . Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this, Miss Kane, do you need help getting down the stairs?"

I shook my head. "Harry's going to help me."

Professor McGonagall nodded, squeezing my shoulder in a gentle, almost motherly action before Harry pushed me out of the entrance hall and helped me down the stairs. He pushed me across the grounds- there was a little dirt path to take us down- and then we arrived at Hagrids house. The sun was hot and I felt bad that Harry had to push me. There were many students lying on the grass, eating sweets, reading the paper, and calling out to us.

"He'll be behind the cabin." I said as we approached his house and Harry pushed my chair around to the side of the cabin where Hagrid was picking runner beans in his garden.

"All righ', Harry! All righ' Elizabeth! Come in, come in, we'll have a cup o' dandelion juice.." Hagrid said, standing up. He took over and lifted my chair in one hand and I clutched the arms tightly, hoping I didn't slip out, as he carried my chair through the door, and set it down gently. I breathed a sigh of relief, releasing my grip on the chair arms.

"How's things?" Hagrid asked as we settled down and gave us iced juice. I'd never had dandelion juice and it had a peculiar flavor but it wasn't the worst thing Hagrid had made before. "You- er- feelin' all righ', are yeh?"

I sucked in my cheeks and said, "Things could be worse, that's for sure."

"Ay." Hagrid said softly.

"I'm fine." Harry said quickly, "So, where've you been?"

"Bin hidin' out in the mountains, up in a cave, like Sirius did when he-" Hagrid broke off, cleared his throat and took a long draft of juice, looking between the two of us, "Anyway, back now." He said feebly.

"You- you look better." Harry said and I knew he was trying to avoid the conversation of Sirius.

"Wha'? Oh- oh yeah. Well, Grawpy's loads better behaved now, loads. Seemed right pleased ter see me when I got back, ter tell yeh the truth. He's a good lad, really. . . I've bin thinkin' abou' tryin' ter find him a lady friend, actually. . ." Hagrid trailed off, thinking about it.

I giggled, "Oh yes, that's a great idea Hagrid! I'm sure the Centaurs will be right pleased with that idea!"

Hagrid was silent for another moment. Harry was draining his cup quickly and I knew he was trying to find a way to depart quickly.

"Ev'ryone knows you've bin tellin' the truth now, Harry. That's gotta be better, hasn' it?" Hagrid asked in the softest voice that I'd ever heard him use.

Harry simple shrugged.

"Look. . ." Hagrid leaned across the table to look at both of us. "I knew Sirius longer'n you two did. . . He died in battle, an' tha's the way he'd've wanted ter go-"

"He didn't want to go at all!" Harry said angrily.

"Nah, I don' reckon he did. But still, Harry. . . he was never one ter sit around at home an' let other people do the fightin'. He couldn' have lived with himself if he hadn' gone ter help you two-"

Harry leapt up. "I've got to go and visit Ron and Hermione in the hospital wing."

"Oh, Oh. . . all righ' then, Harry. . . Take care of yerself then, an' drop back in if yeh've got a mo. . ."

Harry was gone, leaving me there with Hagrid. A tear trickled down my cheek and I wiped it away and said, "You're right Hagrid. Sirius would've liked going out with a bang. . ." I looked out the window, wiping away more tears. My throat was tight again. "It's all my fault too. . ."

"Nah, I don' think it's yer fault Elizabeth." Hagrid said gently. "Yer friend was in trouble and yeh went. It's wha' Sirius would've done and it's wha' Lupin would've done too. Yer like yer parents and no one can blame yeh fer that."

I was silent and took another sip of dandelion juice. I wondered if Hagrid knew that Lily and James were my parents too. Dumbledore had told me and dad after my fourth-year that he wouldn't tell anyone. Of course, he'd also said it was getting harder to deny my relationship as I got older and the rumor was already planted there in people's minds anyways.

But I wasn't going to bring the topic up without any proof that Hagrid did know. We stared into each others eyes and then Hagrid said, "Harry doesn' know does he?"

"About what?" I asked softly.

"Yer his sister."

I swallowed. "Dumbledore told you?"

"Nah, yeh look too much like yer mum, tha's all. Lupin bein' yer father an' Sirius being yer Godfather. He was there when I went an' got Harry outta ter house. I figure tha's when he got yeh out."

"Yeah." I whispered. "It's not time to tell him yet."

"No, I s'pose it's not." Hagrid said and we watched the sunset fall together without another word between the two of us.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

𝕳𝖆𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖞 chair back up to the Hospital wing and I thanked him and rolled inside the hospital wing and froze, taking in the scene before me.

Trang was standing in the middle of the room, shouting at her parents who were standing in front of her, both of their faces angry. Dumbledore was standing by them, talking calmly, his hands behind his back. Madam Pomfrey was standing between Hermione and Ron's beds. Both of them were sitting up against their beds, watching. Professor Umbridge was still laying down.

Mrs. Nyguen caught sight of me sitting there in the doorway and started going off again in Vietnamese and Trang answered her in Vietnamese. Dumbledore looked politely puzzled. I didn't think he knew Vietnamese.

Madam Pomfrey hurried over to me and then pushed me to the bed and helped me into my bed. That's when dad entered the room, having coming back from St. Mungo's and he also froze, taking in Trang and her parents fighting and then Mr. Nyguen started shouting too and dad hurried over to my bed.

"Why are her parents here?" Dad asked.

"Oh- er- well, I don't really know but um, I think I may have forgotten to tell you that Trang's a pure-blood witch and she didn't find out until this summer."

"Oh!" Dad looked surprised and then flushed. I wondered what he was thinking about.

"Mrs. Nyguen, if you could please revert back to English so that we can talk." Professor Dumbledore said in a weary voice, "I'm sure that we can find a solution that works for everyone."

"I do not want my daughter influenced by the magical world!" Mrs. Nyguen shrieked.

"That's not fair!" Trang shouted, also in English.

"If perhaps," Mr. Nyguen said in a quieter, more controlled voice, "we did some memory modifying-"

"No!" Trang snapped at him, "It's too late, you're not taking my memories away from me! I've been to the Quidditch World Cup! I've watched Krum catch a snitch on a firebolt broom! I've seen house-elves and Dark Marks and gnomes and taken mail from owls! I've cast spells with and without a wand and I've soared above the trees with a broom. I've watched a werewolf transform and I've watched simple Muggle tents open up into apartments. I've eaten chocolate frogs and sugar quills! I've read about Ancient Runes and Herbology and Charms and Magical Creatures! I know that I'm a pure-blood witch! I know that this is where I should've been going to school for the past five years!"

Trang was breathing hard, glaring at her parents. They both looked shocked and then Mr. Nyguen asked, "What do you mean you went to the Quidditch World. . ." and then he trailed off and looked over at me. "Of course. . ." He muttered darkly.

Her mother however, was freaking out, "What do you mean you watched a werewolf transform!"

Dad went a darker red. Ah, so that was what he'd been thinking about.

"I don't believe that erasing Miss Nyguen's memories is the er- solution." Professor Dumbledore said. "In fact, though she has missed five years of schooling, if she is anything like Elizabeth here, I don't doubt she could go to school for a couple of years."

Trang's eyes lit up in surprise and happiness and I felt my heart pound. However, her parents faces paled so that they looked more yellow than ever.

"Trang- go- to school- here?" Mrs. Nyguen said, struggling so much with the English words that I thought she might revert back to Vietnamese. "Nonsense!"

"Why not?" Trang asked sharply. "It's where I belong!"

Mr. Nyguen pulled off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Trang we've always wanted what is best for you and this-"

"Really?" Trang asked. But she wasn't shrieking anymore. If anything, she sounded colder than ever. "Because if you'd really wanted what was best for me, you would've sent me here. I got captured, not because of Elizabeth, but because I didn't know how to throw off an imperius curse! I was useless in the Ministry because I didn't know spells! I don't think that's what was best for me."

"You were never supposed to interact with the magical world in the first place!" Her dad said, his voice rising just a little bit.

"Well I interacted with it just by living with you!" Trang snapped. "Considering you're both wizards."

"Miss Nyguen," Dumbledore said calmly and Trang turned to face him. "I'm going to take your parents up to my office. I'd like you to stay here until we come back."

Trang didn't seem happy about this but she nodded and came to sit next to me. I gave her a reluctant smile as Mr and Mrs. Nyguen walked out of the room, heads held high.

"I can't believe them!" Trang seethed. "Not wanting me to go to school!"

Dad had a tense look on his face and I nudged him with my shoulder. "What's up?"

Dad jumped, "What?"

"I asked what's up? You look lost." I said and then grinned, "Is it Tonks?"

Dad blushed red and said, "I don't know what your talking about."

I didn't answer and just smiled and then pursed my lips.

Trang and I fell asleep and when I woke up, I found that dad had laid me down and Trang was curled up next to me, her head resting on my stomach.

There was an opening at the hospital wing and Dumbledore came in. Dad rose to meet him and whispered something to him. I wanted to sit up but there had been no improvements. So instead, I nudged Trang with my hand, shaking her awake and then pointed to Dumbledore. Trang got off the bed and stood up, looking apprehensive.

"Miss Nyguen, your parents are waiting for you in the entrance hall."

"Are they- will they- am I-" Trang said, seeming close to tears and unable to spit the words out.

As an answer, Dumbledore smiled and said, "They're not happy with the choice, but after long consideration it does seem that you will be coming to Hogwarts. You won't go through the same process as anyone else here, less years and you'll end up continuing your education past the age of adulthood, however, with extra sessions with teachers and of course, you already know quite a bit from what Professor Lupin has said, I don't doubt if you couldn't finish the education in five years."

I was quite excited about that. Trang was equally excited and practically jumped for joy.

Dumbledore said, smiling. "Miss Nyguen, we will go up to my office for a few seconds to sort you and then we'll go and meet your parents."

I just wished I could learn how to walk again.

But, I was too happy that Trang was going to be going to school with me for at least my two next years. I wondered what house she was going to be sorted into. Definitely not Hufflepuff. Probably Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Most likely Ravenclaw. Alas, I wouldn't find out until I went home this summer.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖌𝖔 down to the end of the term feast. Instead, I took the freedom of using my newly improved legs and made my way down to the lake. It had taken me a few weeks to get them back to normal, but Madam Pomfrey said I was near the completion of healing. I still needed the chair sometimes but overall, I felt much the same as I did before we'd left for the Ministry, and that was a large improvement from before.

I took off my shoes and socks and waded out into the lake. I was wearing a tank top and shorts because I had wanted to go for a swim. My long hair was pinned up in a bun. But now, as the sun had started to set, I didn't really want to go under because I wondered if I would come up for air.

I missed Sirius with a pain. I'd talked to Hagrid about him, of course and his words were comforting. I wasn't like Harry- I didn't throw my anger out onto everyone else. After all, it wasn't their fault. They just wanted us to feel better. No, I was too kind and I realized that the Sorting Hat really never had made a mistake when he'd put me into Hufflepuff. I belonged in Hufflepuff and I was going to stop fighting that.

I knew the Hufflepuffs were celebrating tonight. We'd won the Quidditch Cup and we'd won as the house with the most points tonight too. I wondered if Ernie and Susan were looking for me or if they thought I was sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Tears slipped down my face and I looked up at the sky. I had once read a story that the stars were all the people that had died on the Earth. Of course, the church had said that people went to Heaven and Hell and became Angels or the minions of the Devil.

But looking up at those stars, I almost felt that they were once people. I'd heard in Muggle science that sometimes stars burned out. That's when people finally forget them, I thought. That's when they burn out.

There was a star above me that looked brighter than the others and I smiled. That was Sirius' star, I could feel it. Tears fell faster and I blinked them away. There were two stars so close together that they were practically touching. Mum and Dad, a small voice in the back of my head said. And then there was a large star above Sirius'. Cedric, I thought.

And as Luna and Harry were talking outside the Gryffindor Tower portrait, I thought, Luna was right, they never do leave us, do they. A pause and then I thought. Luna's right, I'll see them again one day.

I dove under the water. 

⬅️➡️

[chronicbeans]

Here's my Welcome Home OC: Pinkie Patience!

My self-imposed challenge was to design him using the pastel crayons and markers my bff bought me, so he looks like a little dork, and I love him! Also this is my first time trying to draw/design a puppet (besides Wally), so expect it to be poor- (feedback is always liked and welcomed OwO.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's a laid-back, chill neighbor who likes to play games with friends, relax, and eat delicious foods! Due to his disability/disabilities, which was/were never specifically named in the show, books, or any other media, he sometimes needs to take breaks or ask for others to accommodate for him to be able to join in on activities. While his condition or conditions were never named, some difficulties that have been mentioned or observed are difficulty swallowing, food allergies, joint pain, the use of leg braces and other mobility aids, and sensory issues, such as hypersensitivity to light and sounds.

He often worse glasses, which he mentioned helped with the bright light of the sun and lights inside his house, even though they were clear and not tinted. It is believed that the decision to keep his glasses clear was to allow children with poor eyesight to still be able to see his eyes well. His mobility aids were often bright and colorful. He also wore clothes that didn't quite match in colors, or was all one color. One instance, where he was asked about his clothing style, had him say "I dress more for comfort than appearance. I think my personality makes up for it, don't you?" He is also noted as the only character with colored eyebrows and that changed outfits often, regardless of weather conditions. He also has visible pink stubble on his chin, which a design note mentioned was to try to express being laid-back and relaxed in his physical design.

His segments usually included themes of patience, accommodation, and acceptance for peers with varying levels of ability. It tried to demystify some of the various aids that others may need, such as walkers, braces, wheelchairs and the likes to young kids, as well as show them some accomodations you might need to make to let them join in on activities. Pinkie also showed a very healthy level of self-confidence, mentioning how he sees his disabilities not as a burden, but as a little hurdle that he can and does overcome daily. In the rare times where he felt down about not being able to join what the others were doing, or feeling like he was ruining their fun by needing help, the others would cheer him up and tell him that he's always welcome to ask for help and that they would rather make the changes he needs to join in than exclude him. The others would also ask him for advice on what he needs, listening to it intently and doing everything that they can to help.

He was only shown in a couple of the episodes on television, mostly appearing in the books and other merchandise. There are a couple of theories as to why this could be. The main two are that changing out the various accessories, like his leg braces, which needed to be taken off when he was in a wheelchair and his wrist compression wraps which were only worn in episodes where he mentions having joint pain, was too taxing and difficult for the puppeteers, or that they were hard to puppeteer around. This could be because the accessories were usually made of plastic, while to puppet was felt and stuffing, which comes with the risk of ripping the puppet on a sharp, plastic edge.

The other theory was that parents felt that the themes of disability were too intense for the young target audience, so the channels they were broadcasting odd requested that he be taken out of the show. This stems from letters that were found, usually from the late 60s to early 70s, from angry parents upset by episodes including Pinkie, some even saying that him asking for accomodations was him bullying or bossing the others around and that he didn't actually need them. If this was true, the fact that he was still featured in books and merchandise could be the studio's way of still showing their support for people with disabilities, as well as making sure that children who connected with him didn't feel abandoned by his sudden disappearance from the show. Letters from children, most dated in the few months between his disappearance from the show and his slight higher presence in the books, mentioned how they missed Pinkie or related to him. Some even asked if he was okay or moved out of the neighborhood. It is possible the heightened presence of him in the merchandise could've been in response to the letters from those children.

[a-mole-of-iron]

After yet another unscheduled break, here is a new Duchowiesen short story; this one is about one of the country's many, many railway hotels, and what it takes to renovate one when it's on the list of valuable historic buildings.

Story genre: comfy urban fantasy

Renovating the Hotel

Wolfgang was rapidly strolling down the corridor of The Everyman's Excelsior (formerly The Kaiser's First Choice), a three-gemstone railway hotel temporarily closed for renovations. His rumpled suit and tie, his "mad scientist" haircut, and his gaunt yet lively features were a match to the place - chaotic, confusing, and yet businesslike. He was flanked by his two associates dressed in the same manner, Liv and Bakhtiyar, the two listening and Liv writing down important points on a clipboard, with Wolfgang and Bakhtiyar gesticulating wildly as they discussed the improvements to be done. They passed bags of cement, buckets of paint, stepladders, and boxes full of tools, then went upstairs to check the next floor of ten in total. As they emerged from the stairwell into another corridor that wasn't yet filled with tools and supplies, Bakhtiyar turned to Wolfgang and asked:

"So let me get this straight. This place has been standing since the 10180s, and we're going to get reprimanded if we throw out even one historically important part of it?"

"Yes!" Wolfgang responded. "That's some work for us, eh? This place was only renovated once, after the War was stopped and the people took over, and that was decades ago!..."

"Well, let's get it up to the standards of '268 then!" Bakhtiyar said as the three entered a two-bed hotel room to inspect it. "Liv, are you still writing this down?"

"Yes, I am!" Liv responded, waving her clipboard at the two. "I can already see a bunch of stuff we're going to have to change for better accessibility! We might want to start with wheelchair access, and we're also going to need tactile plaques for anyone who's visually impaired... I'mma just note down the important parts of the room real quick!"

"Great, great..." Wolfgang told her. He looked over the room again, evaluating its decor. It was definitely fraying by this point, despite cosmetic repairs done every so often. The thick drapes and baroque wallpaper would need replacements that'd be at least 85% identical, as the character of the hotel had to be preserved, but what really needed a do-over was electric and telephone wiring. Perhaps a different design for the chandelier was in order - the current ones were a "temporary" batch that was installed seven years ago and not changed since, with their overly gaudy character clashing with the hotel's restrained opulence. For a moment, Wolfgang thought to himself it was strange to see the Overcast Era produce something so tasteful... but then, this is why the hotel ended up on a register of historic buildings in the first place.

"Hey Wolfgang?" Bakhtiyar asked, roping Wolfgang's attention back to the matters at hand.

"Yes?" Wolfgang responded.

"I just remembered I forgot to tell you," Bakhtiyar said. "The solar power company called while you were away around 13 AM. They wanted to know the specifics; are we going to use solar heating, photovoltaics, or both?"

"That depends," Wolfgang said. "Photovoltaics are still more expensive than I'd like... is their asking price below average?"

"I think they're willing to give us a discount if we install both," Bakhtiyar told Wolfgang. "And then there are subsidies to consider..."

"Hmmmf," Wolfgang grumbled. "We definitely need to discuss this with the hotel administration. But I haven't even done the numbers... Liv?"

"Yes, we may be able to break even if we apply for subsidies!" Liv said. "And my understanding of PV economics is that they might be the cheapest form of energy in... about 10 to 15 years! We've got to keep 'em in mind, that much is certain. Solar power isn't gonna disappear into the ether and leave us hanging."

"Yes, yes, good..." Wolfgang said as the three left the hotel room, went back out into the corridor, and checked several more rooms, discussing the improvements as they went. After this was done, they hoofed it further upstairs - entering into the hotel's winter garden. They looked up into the glasshouse ceiling that has seen better days, then around the place, with medium-height spruce trees growing right inside, six floors off the ground. Around the garden, there were soft chairs and ornate metal tables, placed with the intention of reading or dining, as well as smaller bushes, ivy on the walls, and boxy flower planters.

"Alright, the garden." Wolfgang said. "What's our minimum here?"

"A pass by an expert horticulturalist, a new coat of paint for the planters, anti-corrosive burnish for the tables, tempered glass tiles for the ceiling just in case," Liv rattled off without as much as slowing down.

"What about the winter heating?" Bakhtiyar asked.

"Good point!" Liv responded. "I think the optimal variant would be either a district heating tap, or a gas-fired boiler. Possibly biogas? Oh, oh! We might want to add a biogas production digester to the maintenance area!" she shouted in excitement.

"Alright, that's a great idea," Bakhtiyar said. "This is a hotel, there might be plenty of unfinished meals around here... and if there's a space for an anaerobic digester, this might cut down on garbage pick-ups... that's brilliant!"

"Thank you, I'm trying," Liv smirked.

"So what else is on the list?" Wolfgang asked. "The rest of the floors? The attic? The ballroom?"

"The ballroom was converted to a movie theater about 10 years after the War," Liv responded. "This might need a bunch of technical updates, and the decor there is definitely... an interesting addition. It's more Art Deco than baroque of the other places in here."

"Okay, let's just keep going," Bakhtiyar said. "We can just about do everything to best standard if we really try!"

"Agreed!" Wolfgang said. "Let's go!" He set off, and the trio continued into the other parts of the hotel, surveying the aspects of work to be done in the coming weeks.

[transx-mogai-cafe]

:o i didnt know she was against transabled! i knew about the transgender stuff! do you have any examples? i haven't read the book

Good, I would not suggest that you ever do! I'll give you some examples here, but they may be triggering or otherwise upsetting to some, so do not read further if ableism, transableism, fatphobia, thriller mystery things such as death and dismemberment, or if a scene of an angry white man yelling belligerently would trigger or otherwise just upset you.

Okay, so quick rundown: there's this girl named Kelsey, her severed leg gets sent to Robin, the mild-tempered assistant to manly detective main character Cormoran Strike (yes that is his name, this is the third book in the Cormoran Strike series). So Cormoran and Robin are On The Case, some stuff happens, they find out Kelsey would frequent some online forums for transabled people (specifically those with BIID) cause she wanted her leg off apparently.

Now Cormoran is, as mentioned, a manly detective. He is ex-military and lost a leg in Afghanistan due to an IED. However someone thought to be the murderer told Kelsey that this is a lie that Cormoran told to hide the fact that he is also A Weirdo (/s) that purposely had his leg removed. He is, of course, very offended by this.

This leads him to Jason and Tempest (not her Birth Name, btw!). Tempest is a transabled activist who owns the site that Kelsey would frequent. This is how Jason and Tempest are introduced:

Very tasteful. /s

Tempest in particular is clearly set up as a strawman for a lot of traits JKR doesn't like in a person, but as we're focusing on transableism here, we'll skip most of the conversation and go to this paragraph:

Notice not only the blatant transableism, but also ableism as well. Cormoran here can apparently tell who does or does not "need" to use a wheelchair based solely on his experience with soldiers who became paraplegic and quadriplegic from war injuries.

The discussion between the two parties comes to an end when Mr. Cormoran decides that has he has Had Enough and goes on this tirade:

We see some common reactionary arguments here that transableists often tout. Add in a little pro-military rhetoric, and you have a Totally Justifiable Rant (/s).

Don't even get me started on how she portrayed acrotomophiliacs.

All in all, this is a very typical JKR book. I had to go digging for an e-book copy as I honestly had forgotten a lot of the specific details, but I wanted to give you a detailed-ish answer to your question. I had honestly forgotten just how bad it was and just how much of JKR's disdain for people she considers degenerates will bleed into her writing.