Souppooppie - Soup

Here is the comic series I promised with my last post!

Part 1/4

Part 2 will be neurological explanations,

Part 3&4 will be actual tips and tricks!

Please know that I’m not intentionally withholding the next parts, they’re just not finished yet and making this series takes so much time. So much Layouting to not make all this info a wall of text! That being said I hope I can upload part 2 next week to my patreon

hell's paradise is a fun story where everybody smiles

Ways I develop character relationships in my writing

This is just a small list of things I do to add a little bit of coziness into my writing through my characters! Relationships (both platonic and romantic) are notoriously hard to write, so here are some of my tips!

Characters picking up on each other’s mannerisms

Characters finishing each other’s sentences

When one character trips/falls/slips and their friend(s) make fun of them before helping them up

Inside jokes

When a group is laughing together, characters who immediately look at each other to see if they found it funny also

Friends who can’t keep it together in serious situations when they’re together

Platonic touching (hugging, hand holding, high fives, etc.)

Characters discussing future plans

Intentionally making fun of each other in front of their crush/partner

I mean surely we all grew up feeling like there was a wrongness inherently deep inside us that will endure for the rest of our lives

WHAT THE FUCCAA

things i didnt realize were signs of being neurodivergent when i was younger

not being able to stand certain textures of clothes and complaining when i was forced to wear them

being a “picky eater” (and then getting punished for it)

struggling to understand gender norms (like being told long hair is for girls, short hair is for boys, certain colors decide your genitals apparently, etc)

reading the same short story books over and over again

getting sensory overload constantly and thinking that im just too sensitive and it must be a character flaw i have to fix

bringing certain objects or belongings with me everywhere for comfort

spending way too long making up my own fantasy worlds or stories

fellow ND people please feel free to add on (neurotypicals welcome to reblog but dont clown)

I legit thought i don't have RSD until my cousin jokingly said ' bitch ' when we were joking around.. and i shit you not shit hurted like bitch... (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ

To anyone who insult me or say something untrue about me got my executive dysfunction on their backs. Like aye say what you want i will literally unable to talk back because it's hard to get words out of my mouth. can't even tell you how I feel about it :/ . I'll just stand there in silence looking at the distance and die even if you say the most meanest and untrue thing about me

When I was younger and more abled, I was so fucking on board with the fantasy genre’s subversion of traditional femininity. We weren’t just fainting maidens locked up in towers; we could do anything men could do, be as strong or as physical or as violent. I got into western martial arts and learned to fight with a rapier, fell in love with the longsword.

But since I’ve gotten too disabled to fight anymore, I… find myself coming back to that maiden in a tower. It’s that funny thing, where subverting femininity is powerful for the people who have always been forced into it… but for the people who have always been excluded, the powerful thing can be embracing it.

As I’m disabled, as I say to groups of friends, “I can’t walk that far,” as I’m in too much pain to keep partying, I find myself worrying: I’m boring, too quiet, too stationary, irrelevant. The message sent to the disabled is: You’re out of the narrative, you’re secondary, you’re a burden.

The remarkable thing about the maiden in her tower is not her immobility; it’s common for disabled people to be abandoned, set adrift, waiting at bus stops or watching out the windows, forgotten in institutions or stranded in our houses. The remarkable thing is that she’s like a beacon, turning her tower into a lighthouse; people want to come to her, she’s important, she inspires through her appearance and words and craftwork.  In medieval romances she gives gifts, write letters, sends messengers, and summons lovers; she plays chess, commissions ballads, composes music, commands knights. She is her household’s moral centre in a castle under siege. She is a castle unto herself, and the integrity of her body matters.

That can be so revolutionary to those of us stuck in our towers who fall prey to thinking: Nobody would want to visit; nobody would want to listen; nobody would want to stay.