#topic: inaccessibility

[editblr-confessions]

why is every person on editblr either

an inc*st shipper

pro genocide

A boundary breaker

Extremely strict anti-endo

Terrible at editing

a person who has a typing quirk I can't read

A gross person in general

Or doesn't exist

.

[sleepyyghostt]

any time i remember that trump supporters are in any way associated with christianity i feel fcking insane

[sillydex45]

THE RAMPS ARE TOO FUCKING STEEP ON THESE GYMS.

THEY JUST SLAPPED A BANDAID OVER A LEAKING TANK PRETTY MUCH. HOW IS ANYONE SUPPOSED TO GET UP THESE ON A WHEELCHAIR.

*growls* IM SOMEWHAT OF AN ANGEL OF DARKNESS ALLY…..DISABLED PEOPLE….YOU HAVE MY SWORD!!!!! 🗡️

[spursthatjinglejanglejingle]

The semester ends tomorrow and my professor still hasn't graded my FIRST essay from OCTOBER btw

[sweetfessions]

You don't need to go on a hiatus because you feel bad about making a mistake. Having an inaccessible blog is bad, yes, but you don't need to leave forever. You can just add Prin text. It isn't some massive sin that you have to leave forever about or post about what a terrible person you are.

I've seen so many blogs start talking about how horrible and disgusting they are just because they realized their blog isn't very accessible. I have seen blogs make multiple posts insulting themselves over this.

And I mean this as politely as possible, stop whining and just edit your posts, it's that simple. And making multiple posts about "oh my blog is inaccessible I'm such a horrible person I'm sorry" in a row, stopping and then making the same posts months later just feels like you're trying to gain pity.

You don't need to make it into some big thing, you insulting yourself isn't going to make my screen reader work better or make fonts any less hard for me to read. Just put in the effort to be better, stop using fonts, provide plain text and image ids, and that's what matters. And I'm pretty sure most people agree that actually taking steps to improving your blog's accessibility is way more helpful than just beating yourself up over stuff.

.

[beatcroc]

Getting bad abt not tagging art again simply because so much of it has been fandom drivel recently [by which i mean the past two years][and this is not stopping any time soon] and I don't want to clutter my art tag with just an endless wall of that so im gonna try to. Have a split art tag again. I did in the past to delineate sketches and big stuff but I was terrible at maintaining it and the nature of what and how I draw shifted quite a bit so I eventually merged them anyway. The difference this time is it's completely arbitrary and I just put stuff under either based on how much i like it

[anarcho-masochist]

I need to finally admit that I only have so much time to write and thus need to decide & commit to writing one particular thing instead of researching everything forever in the hopes that I will one day have time to write All the things. You have no idea how nuanced my internal discussions on the topic have gotten at this point, though. The next post will be a poll on what to write or post about first.

[soup-mother]

Everything you said about hostile web design applies to House of Leaves yet ableist lit dorks call it a masterpiece, even though it’s deliberately designed to be inaccessible to the blind despite a blind man being one of the main characters. How much sympathy can an author have for a character when they exclude those like him from being able to experience their art?

yea no fr. I'm not familiar enough with house of leaves to have a super good reply about the book itself but i do know what the book is like and yea. basically every search for accessibility was just like "how easy is this book to approach and understand?" and not like actual accessibility.

and the few people actually talking about physical accessibility were doing that thing where they just assume there's braille versions (and ones that you could get your hands on) or that an ebook of it would magically work with a screen reader.

sorry i didn't have more to say, but thank you for your input on this!

[touhoutivations]

"Heya, just popping in for your medicine delivery- ah, you're wondering why I'm not wearing my usual disguise? Well, Eirin and I kinda agreed that it was making me look more suspicious than usual...and while some of the village don't want to take medicine from a youkai, our medicines aren't anything to hide from." "You shouldn't feel ashamed about taking what you need in order to function, and we shouldn't add to that stigma. It'd be ridiculous if I had to dress up like a bandit to give you bandages if you hurt yourself, right?"

"...I know that 'the lunatic rabbit' probably isn't the best to advertise this, but you deserve to be loved, cared for, survive and thrive- no matter what illness or neurodivergency you have. Change and acceptance isn't easy, especially deprogramming from...harmful stereotypes and ideology- believe me, I've been through all that craziness." "It's probably taken you a really long journey to find this out, or accept this, or take steps to treatment- maybe you're still ironing out the big questions- but I'm really proud of you for it. So keep taking those steps, to become more 'you' than ever. Advocate for yourself, and know that there's people that can help you through- even if it takes a while to find them." "That's all from me today, make sure you take some food with them too, alright?"

[highlineeheartbeat]

historically inaccurate, over sexualized teen period drama tv shows are the bane of my existence

[editblr-confessions]

I really wish editblr was more accessible for visually impaired people honestly. We're visually impaired but we also like using rentry graphics and stuff because yay!!! cool thing!!!!! But half the time we can't read the typing quirks and stuff and people refuse to add plain text and it's just. Bwuh :/

(Not sending this on anon so we remember we sent this whoops)

.

[privateerstudies]

.

[dirtmound]

fascinating to me that there are people who believe the problem with academic inaccessibility lies not in like all the paywalls but rather in that not everything is being written for an introductory audience

[luckyfiona]

“ what are you doing out here by yourself? ”

(Flashback to their first meeting???¿?¿?)

She hasn't stopped thinking about him, not even to sleep. Every inch of her― her brain, her heart, her soul, her dreams― everything is preoccupied with the brave boy who kept her out of harm's way the other night.

It's been one year since Fíona's parents had to give her up, because they couldn't afford to feed her. They couldn't take care of her, so they sent her off with Captain Price to give her a better life in America. In theory, he's her savior, but Fíona doesn't feel very safe with him. Maybe because she knows he only took her because it's profitable for him. The stranger who protected her had nothing to gain in doing so; he only did it out of an extraordinary humanitarianism. He acted more like a loving family member to her since she first emigrated to this place. She didn't know his name.

She's been scavenging for loose change since she started her indentured servitude, to try to slowly create the more beautiful life she was promised in America, as if her savings of pennies would ever afford her the dresses she makes at the boutique, or even a vase of flowers to put in her sad little room. But recent events have her realizing that if she truly wants to beautify her life, she's better off investing in people to keep in it. She thinks she'd be happier as a pauper with a family than a luxurious little orphan in a cold, dark manor. So, she takes her modest savings to the kindly old man on the corner with some kind of popcorn stand. He says he's selling the new all-time favorite American snack. He calls it Cracker-Jack. She's never heard of it, but she hopes her new all-time favorite American boy has.

She counts out her modest savings on the table of the popcorn stand with raw determination in her eyes. She wants to offer the boy something to eat. She wants to take care of him the way he took care of her, so she never had to lose him. She wants to feed him so she never has to give him up.

She takes her offering to the spooky alley where she first saw him, in eager anticipation that he'll slip through again― as if some part of him might be hoping to cross paths with her again, too. As the minutes pass into hours, optimism turns into dread and every noise seems to startle her, and it's the first time in her life that she realizes just how much danger she's willing to put herself in to find someone who will care about her. By the time he spots her, she's so focused on the noise she heard at the other end of the alley, convinced there's someone there with hungry eyes and a knife, she nearly jumps out of her skin at the blunt tap of his fingers on her shoulder. When she whips around to meet his gray eyes, she realizes she should've spent less time convincing herself that there were ghouls floating around her and more time planning what she was going to say.

❝ Hi. Sorry. ❞

She's reminded of what a maladjusted outsider she really is when she finally has a chance to talk to someone her own age and doesn't know how to. She stammers, taking in boyish features: raised eyebrows that don't posit to have seen everything, a mischievous elven nose ready to be thumbed at anyone trying to use their stature to pick on him, wide eyes that haven't lost their humanity even despite the purple crescent moon framing the left one, which paints a scene to her of him earning it while sticking up for a little guy― she wouldn't find out until a bit later that he received it from being too scared to stick up for himself in the face of a volatile commander. Awkward and curt, starstruck and stumbling, she shoves the bag of Cracker-Jack against his chest and insists:

❝ It― It's America's new all-time favorite snack. ❞

In an act of kindness she never anticipated, and maybe one even he didn't know he had in him, he suggests they sit and eat it together. Two underfed strays, they're halfway through wordlessly devouring the box of Cracker-Jack, with rogue kernels flying out of the sides of their mouths and down their shirts when his stomach is finally full enough to collect himself and address the elephant in the alleyway:

(“what are you doing out here by yourself?”)

Fiona fixes her posture and pivots to the persona of a sophisticated woman who has to finish chewing and swallow before she speaks, and it gives her enough time to figure out how to answer that question. He already had to have gathered she was waiting for him with the gift. It was a bit late to play it cool or tough. Her posture sinks back into a more comfortable position, honest with herself and open to him.

❝ I suppose I haven't got any friends to be out here with me. ❞

There was nothing to gain in pretending she wasn't sad and lonely. She couldn't do anything to fix it if she didn't address it. There was productivity in being intimately vulnerable, and if she took the lead in establishing that kind of disarmament, it could encourage him to do the same. It didn't seem like either of them had much to lose, but they could help each other if they dropped their guards.

❝ But it doesn't seem like you have many real friends, either. ❞

She couldn't help but notice, that night she first saw him, how quickly the street urchins he was horsing around with scattered the second he threw himself into harm's way to help Fíona. Hungry, desperate, lost and unloved boys seem to operate more like a wild pack of dogs than a band of brothers who would back each other up if it wouldn't benefit themselves. She decided that she and her favorite boy could be better than typical mutts. She holds out a hand to shake, like a civilized dog― one that people could love.

❝ I'm― ❞ The name Fíona Comascaigh nearly leaves her mouth before she remembers Mrs. Price told her not to say it like that anymore if she wants to be accepted. It's crucial to meet people on their level, to bend herself and acclimate to their culture for them to see her as a member of their tribe. She affects her best American accent before fumbling out: ❝ Fiona Comisky. ❞

When they shake, with their hands caked with nutty caramel and popcorn dust―the bread they've broken together― it feels meaningful to her, like they've sealed a bond she'll hold with her for a long, long time. They're attached now. As both of their disgusting candy residue intermingles, it's like a blood pact ritual. But stickier.

╳ — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ! // ACCEPTING.

[sweetfessions]

editblr PLEASEE learn what eyestrain is challenge!!! the gradient map trend has set editblr back to the dark ages smh my head except it’s not even the dark ages it’s the BRIGHT ages and I CANT SEE good lord

.

[fagatakonin]

One of the 1st things i want to do after i get a job is buy persona 5 on steam ....