#'shut up about your disability it makes me uncomfortable'

[skippingseaglass]

hey wait yeah you get it. can somebody find me that crocodile comic somebody drew? the one where the art style gets so simplified that you stop being able to tell that its a living creature and not an abstract figure? i feel like that's relevant right now

I'm going to try and say this in the nicest way possible: you are not the only person with problems, and the people who look at your art are not obligated to have to see your, frankly, very uncomfortable venting. The "this is like coming into someone's house" argument doesn't work in a situation like this, because at the end of the day we are strangers. We don't know each other and at this rate we won't be friends, either. It's your house that you're inviting STRANGERS to.

what is happening here. can I please post what I want to in peace

[badolmen]

Wrote out a big long phone call rant to have with my mother later because as much as I hate it she is my closest irl spiritual confidant 👍 here’s hoping her response to ‘hey I’ve been spiritually depressed and disconnected for like 8 months and for some reason these last two weeks advocating for Palestine has me feeling alive and burning with divine passion and love in a way I’ve never felt before in my life’ isn’t like. ‘Talk to your psyche abt your meds hun’

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

[imacookie212]

Okay so hear me out, the lions with an s/o who uses a cane or has a disability? As someone with a disability there’s not too many people writing about them, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? It’s totally cool if you don’t want to though.

Lions with a S/O who uses a Cane/has a Disability 

Ibuki

Ibuki makes the effort to not hover or make you feel incapable, but he’s always subtly making sure you’re comfortable. Whether it’s holding doors open or clearing obstacles in your path, he does it naturally

If someone stares or makes an insensitive comment, his calm but firm demeanor shuts them down immediately.

If you’re feeling tired or need help, he’ll offer his arm or shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Lean on me anytime; I don’t mind.”

Free

He loves tinkering, so don’t be surprised if he customizes your cane with fun designs or practical upgrades, like a built-in flashlight or even a self-defense feature.

Free always brags about how amazing you are. “Cane or not, they could take on the world if they wanted to.” You’ll never go without compliments with him 

Free has a knack for lightening the mood. If you’re frustrated about your mobility in particular, he’ll crack a joke to see a smile on your face 

Dolph

He makes sure all your outings together are accessible, researching locations in advance so you don’t have to worry about stairs or long walks.

Dolph always asks how he can help in certain situations, he doesn’t want to assume you can’t complete certain tasks, and he respects your independence but is ready to assist when needed.

Dolph quietly takes care of little things, like carrying heavier bags or adjusting his pace to match yours, without making a big deal of it.

Agata

Agata admires your determination and will, he looks up to you and how you put up with so much in the world. He’s your biggest cheerleader!

He’ll hold out his arm dramatically and say, “Your chariot awaits!” whenever you need help walking longer distances, always making it fun instead of awkward.

 If anyone dares to disrespect you or treat you differently because of your disability, Agata won’t hesitate to get in their face about it.

Miguel

He’s incredibly attentive, noticing when you’re starting to get tired or uncomfortable and suggesting breaks before you even have to ask

He for sure signs both of you guys up for workout classes that are accessible/accommodating to you, he doesn’t want to ice you out of his fun little hobby. If he can’t find any, he will make a plan himself.

Another admirer, he constantly reminds you how much he admires your resilience. “You inspire me every day, you know that?”

Sabu

Sabu’s not the type to fuss, but he’s always there when you need him. If you’re having a rough day, he’ll quietly take over tasks without a word

When you’re out in public, Sabu keeps a sharp eye out for anything that might cause you trouble, like uneven ground or careless crowds, steering you around them without saying much.

 Despite his tough demeanor, Sabu has a way of offering quiet, heartfelt encouragement when you’re feeling down. “You’re tougher than most people I know, and that’s saying something.”

Jinma

If something in your environment isn’t working for you, Jinma will calmly come up with a clever workaround, turning it into an adventure instead of an inconvenience.

 He thinks your cane is awesome and might even jokingly ask if he can borrow it to “look cooler.” He’d have a monocle and cane moment. 

Jinma’s laid-back attitude makes it easy to be yourself around him. He never pressures you to do more than you’re comfortable with.

Dope

Dope is very good with his words and he has a way of reframing things to make you feel better. “Everyone’s got their own challenges. Yours just happen to be visible, and that’s okay.”

Dope has all the time in the world for you. If you’re moving at a slower pace or need frequent breaks, he never rushes or gets annoyed

On tough days when you’re frustrated or feeling down about yourself, Dope is the perfect person to talk to. He’ll listen without interrupting and then say something simple but impactful, making the most challenging days manageable. 

Hino

He’s the type to walk beside you no matter how slow the pace, making sure you know he’s with you every step of the way

He’ll take you shopping for outfits or different canes to match, he’s gonna dress you up and take you around to show off. 

Hino notices even the smallest changes in your mood or energy levels and adjusts accordingly, whether it’s suggesting a break or offering quiet encouragement

[drdemonprince]

I just read your piece on mindfulness, I was really touched by your authenticity in sharing how much it just sucks to exist in the world as an autistic person. I relaize I had defensively rejected the idea of mindfulness without really stopping to learn what it's really about, and your article was so enlightening. Your honesty in sharing how rough a time you had really drove home the fact that mindfulness is really about completely immersing yourself the rawness of the human experience. Personally, I find joy easily and I find that I'm often mindful about the positive, appealing, beautiful aspects of the world. I have a much, much harder time dealing with discomfort and suffering (except in kink!). I have a tendancy to shut out everything uncomfortable, especially painful stimulation, "negative" feelings, and the people around me. Your piece inspired me to challenge myself to be mindful while overstimulated, triggered, and extremely anxious in a grocery store (aka hell on earth). Spoiler alert: it really really sucked. But, I definitely processed a lot more of what was going on in my mind, and my body. I noticed how tense I felt in my chest, and learned how it took hours for it to dissipate. I noticed how busy it was in the store, and how the narrow aisles and close proximity to other people made me agitated and scared. I know now what will happen if I go there again at that time of day, and can adjust my plans to shop there again accordingly. I noticed the ache of the trauma shrapnel in my mind, and I percepted that just beyond my reach parts of me were processing and feeling really difficult things. I know that if I listen enough I will learn what is going on, and be able to process it consciously. The last thing I noticed was at the check-out. At this point I was desperately trying to escape so I was practically flinging my items into my backpack. I was completely overwhelmed by the chaos I felt in my being. But when I paused to pay, my attention shifted outwards. I realized how kind the cashier had been to me. I knew from her body language and tone of voice that she understood that I was having a hard time. She was so empathetic and kind during such a short interaction, at the end of her shift, towards someone who could barely look at her. I was so touched, and have thought of her every day since. Thank you for your article. I can't wait to notice, and feel, and learn more, into perpetuity.

Wow. This is beautiful. This is exactly how I experienced embracing mindfulness to better understand my own sensory issues and overwhelm, after years of rejecting the idea as stupid, woo-woo, and unpleasant. Attending to all the ways in which your environment is disabling you is PAINFUL, but it really can generate a ton of insight. When we know exactly what is triggering us, and what is moving the needle up and down, we can self-regulate by making tiny adjustments that make the painful a little more bearable. And then we get to appreciate little oases of peace and grace, like the one you experienced with the cashier. So lovely. Thank you for sharing this with me. <3

Here is the piece, for those who didn't see it:

[crimeronan]

kitkat this is mean but i do at this point assume that anyone who gets mad about the aphobia episode of housemd, which is late in s8, is simply and straightforwardly racist, homophobic, intersexist, etc. like if that is the one (1) bad thing you think is worth talking about - a single, one-off episode that was admittedly terrible but nothing like the constant and unrelenting greatest bigotry hit parade that is the show as a whole - i simply don't think that is an opinion i will be listening to. THERE'S BIGGER PROBLEMS!!!!

my perspective on this is, i think, both a little kinder AND a lot meaner than yours -- i 100% think that the Vast Majority of people who never shut up about the asexuality episode have simply..... never watched house MD. like, i really think that's it. they just have not seen the show. the only thing they KNOW about the show is the asexuality episode.

in fact, i'd say that 80% of people who derail my ableism posts EXPLICITLY tag or comment some variation of, "i'd never watch this / i already knew the show was bad / this doesn't surprise me because of the asexuality episode."

so it's not like.... necessarily that they think asexuality is the Only Thing Anyone Can Ever Talk About. it's just that it's the only thing they ever HAVE seen anyone talk about. and they're parroting whatever they've heard.

without. knowing. anything. about. the show.

like. it's just that they legitimately, honest to God somehow think that the asexuality episode was DIFFERENT, and that asexuals were UNIQUELY maligned, because they Literally Have Not Watched The Source Material. and so they don't know how often it happened. to everyone. or how systemic it was. or how cruel the writers were on a constant basis.

i think that this is the truest read of all this discourse. at the very least, it's the only read that makes me Not Actively Homicidal, so it is the one i must cling to.

there are a LOT of viral posts about house MD that criticize the asexuality episode without criticizing anything else. and those DO make me raise my eyebrows, bc presumably the OPs have watched the whole show, and so i'm like. why do you seem to take issue with the asexuality stuff but Not any of the other stuff.

BUT. if i am being good faith and nice to people... i figure it's, like, Ffffine.... for asexual people to make their own posts about house MD. since i am making my own posts about ableism in house MD. talking about one thing is fine. even if it makes me raise my eyebrows. bc as you said, it's one ep late in season 8 that sucks but. is not, uh. it's not the core of the show.

it DOES vex me that discussion of the treatment of asexuality gets SOOOO MUCH MORE VIRAL TRACTION HERE than any discussion of ableism, but it doesn't surprise me, exactly... about 50ish percent of this website is ace (last i knew?), and a MUCH smaller percentage is chronically ill. and on top of that, sooo many chronically ill ppl exist in a weird space with criticism of house MD in the first place, because he's the Pain Blorbo who's a Sick Doctor, he's like the only ornery bitchy chronic illness representation a lot of people have experienced, and that often Means Things to ppl with chronic illness. and so sometimes they feel Weird And Uncomfortable acknowledging that the show is also, um. really really reaaaalllyyyyy mean and cruel.

and just generally. not great. to us.

so. the posts about ableism..... don't circulate. at least not outside of very specific chronic illness circles. bc you have to be Nuanced about the chronic illness stuff, there's a lot of Uncomfortable Feelings involved, and the asexuality stuff is MUCH more straightforwardly terrible ragebait, which is very easy to get mad about & reblog with tags about how you are mad.

With All Of That Said.

i DO think that if people read a post that's being critical of how house MD hurts disabled/chronically ill people, or they read a post about any of the other many many many Many evil bigoted episodes in the series, and their ONLY takeaway is to type, "well, i knew it was bad because i heard about the asexuality thing!"

....i DO think that is thoughtless and cruel. and i do think that people should stop doing that.

and i have locked numerous posts because of people doing that.

and if people start doing that in my notes again, i will be instablocking and possibly locking more posts. because. please.

you do NOT have to say, "i already knew it was bad because X," or, "did you know it was also bad about X??" when the post is not about X. i was not talking about X. i agree that X is bad, but i would like to talk about Y right now, and this kind of smug kneejerk "i consume media the right way <3 i know that it's bad when it's bad" response makes it.... impossible.

like. i am being Earnest As Fuck about ableism and my own life experiences and the horrific structural inequality/oppression/violence/etc in the medical system. it's written about a TV show, but it's not Actually About A TV Show. you know?? my thoughts about house MD are my thoughts about The Actual Real Life Medical System and Actual Real Life Doctors. I'm Trying To Say Something Important .

now is NOT the time for, "oh, yeah, and the asexuality episode was bad!"

NOOOO..... FOCUS ON THE WORDS I JUST SAID INSTEAD. BLEASE,

[hazelnut-u-out]

What would your ideal Morty therapy appointment look like (assuming that he went alone)? 🤔

Going to try to answer this even though my brain feels like mush, lol.

So, there are quite a few things I'd like to see. Obviously, I wouldn't expect a single episode to actually tackle every aspect of what therapy would realistically look like for a character like Morty, but hey-- at this rate, every episode aside from 'Fear No Mort' that's attempted to psychoanalyze him hasn't done the best job, I fear... *cough cough*

Anyway, here are some of the things I'd like to see addressed in an actual therapy setting (importantly, not some other form of psychoanalysis, like the Fear Hole, Roy, etc.):

Autism/Pilot Disability

It bothers me every day that the writers never followed up on that throw-away line about Morty having a disability in the pilot. Obviously, I headcanon that he's autistic (I mean, surely that's half of the dynamic with Rick right there, lol). I personally think that Rick and Morty have some autistic traits that present to the opposing extremes. For example, I think Rick struggles with hypo-empathy and Morty with hyper-empathy. I think Rick excels in math where Morty excels in English/literature. I think Rick struggles to mask and Morty is high masking. Rick just doesn't people please to survive in the same way Morty has been socialized to. (Most of this is my interpretation of the characters, but there are scenes that back up my points, as I'm sure you've caught onto, haha.) I think it would be cool to see Morty open up about feeling ostracized from his peers, struggling to make friends his own age, struggling with feelings of being 'behind'/weird/awkward, and how all of that made him the perfect victim. This is probably the least likely of my wants to be addressed in a therapy setting. I think that if they confirm it, it'd be in a pretty lowkey way, similar to what they did with Rick. I think the cold open for 'Mort: Ragnarick' might've actually been an indication that Morty isn't neurotypical, but we knew that already. I actually sort of headcanon Goldenfold's class as a remedial math course because of how simple the math seems to be, though I'm sure it was initially just some math they threw in for the pilot.

2. Grooming...

This is a tough one to include. Morty has been with WAYYY too many older women throughout the course of the show, but Planetina in particular gives me the chills. I would love to see how that's impacted him, or maybe even how his abusive dynamic with Rick and his neglectful relationship with his parents pushed him into that vulnerable position even more.

3. Mommy Issues (or neglectful parenting in general)

This one is a good follow-up for the last one. Morty's dynamic with Beth in 'A Rickconvenient Mort' is something I literally get up in the middle of the night just to think about. It makes my chest ache. I think it's because I know exactly how it feels to be Morty in that situation. When your parents constantly downplay your own feelings, put you in dangerous/vulnerable situations with reckless abandon, and completely shut you out emotionally it can feel like they just want to ruin your life when they try to protect you. To be honest, the show's dynamic wouldn't exist without Beth's negligence. Morty has two moms and neither of them have really tried to protect him. Even Jerry failed him.

4. Crying.

Idk, just lots of it. He deserves to cry about whatever he wants and be validated.

5. Justifying Rick's Actions

I would LOVE to see Morty try to explain Rick's actions away to someone who actually cares if he's being abused. I could see Morty say something to a therapist, there be a negative reaction or uncomfortable silence, and him try to say: 'It's really for my own good, though, you see...'/'You just don't know Rick the way I do. I'm the only one who really gets him...'/'It would break Mom's heart...'/'He would never hurt me on purpose...' Then to have a professional get in there and really debunk that internalized manipulation? I would die (in a good way).

5. Trauma Responses

They've sort of been hinting at this for a bit, but I think the whole point of Rick's improvement-- at least, in Morty's case-- is 'too little too late.' Rick may be getting better, but how is Morty supposed to trust him? Especially when Rick has been 'nice' for the express purpose of hurting him before? Even in his everyday life, I'm sure he has those moments of anxiety/dread/odd behavior because of the shit he's been through.

There's more, but my brain is fried right now, so maybe I'll revisit this ask later. Anyway, this was fun to think about! Thanks for asking! <3

[ana-snz]

Also, some of the points I’ve seen people make about this are very much reflective of the larger attitudes people hold towards disabled people and I think that’s why so many of us are reacting so strongly. The whole “disabled people are overreacting and trying to police people, we just want to enjoy our lives! Shame on disabled people for asking to be considered. Stop asking us to think about whether or not our actions are harmful to other people! Oh my god why are you getting so MAD, none of this is even that serious 🙄”

If you find yourself wondering why someone is so upset about something that you may see as not a big deal, remember that your life experience is not the only one and that it’s important to listen to people who are primarily affected by the issue at hand, instead of saying oh well it’s not a big deal to ME, so that means y’all are dramatic and overreacting.

Again reiterating as well that this isn’t just about one persons potential intentions to infect other people. Shit like this is happening all the time, with every person going to work or social events sick and unmasked. It’s a reflection of a larger minimization of what, for many us, is a life or death issue, and disabled people are not required to sit down and shut up about the things that are impacting them IRL just because it makes you uncomfortable. If you’re feeling uncomfortable with the discourse being had, the correct response is to remove yourself instead of trying to silence other people speaking out about their experiences.

[ceasarslegion]

All the people clowning on that post are ridiculous.

You are not wrong. You are absolutely correct. Living with actual health hazards (there is rotting food on the floor and mildewing clothes) is very different than "I have a mountain of clean clothes that aren't put away cause my depression has been really bad the last few weeks so my room is messy or I can't sit on the left side of the couch". If you can go to work then you can take a day or a half-day off once a month and clean up after yourself for the betterment of yourself and your symptoms. Part of getting better and improving your situation and health (both physical and mental) is doing the work (which YES is hard) to actually care for your body and lived environment.

We talk about other people enabling us to continue bad habits and harmful behaviors but we don't talk enough about the things we do to ourselves. Which are just as if not MORE important. So thank you for saying that! It matters and people need to hear uncomfortable truths!

And anyone who read that post and took personal issue with it because they actually live like that and it made them immensely uncomfortable because of their own shame around it which you literally (and I can't stress this enough) have nothing to do with needs to reevaluate their situation and accept that they can't live without a caretaker because they're at a point in their life where they can't adequately meet their own basic needs. If someone can't legally do it to a child (providing only unclean clothing, biohazard-filled living space, spoiled food, unclean dishes to eat it with, etc.) without it being abused/neglect, then they are not meeting their own needs and I understand that it might hurt to hear that, but it's the truth and it's a disservice to everyone to not say it. If people aren't saying it, then no one knows where the line is that says "if you cross this you need help and you need it NOW".

So, thank you for making that post even though people are losing their minds over it. I'm sure it's hard to hear that you're not doing a good enough job, but sometimes that needs to be said and, yes, they might not be doing a good enough job BECAUSE of a disability or other issues but that changes literally nothing. It's still not good enough and it can be improved only by them intentionally trying to improve it. Dancing around stuff like this and trying to say nothing that will upset/bother/hurt anyone is genuinely a disservice.

10/10 post. Hope you're getting reasonable breaks from the ridiculousness that everyone is throwing at you ❤️ sorry everyone is taking it in SUCH bad faith

^^^ thank you for being the first person who knows how to read

It's. Frustrating. It's so frustrating how absolutely no one wants to take responsibility for themselves the moment it gets hard. The moment it gets uncomfortable they shut down and scream that you're being ableist for asking an adult to take responsibility for themselves even if they have a mental illness.

The thing is, life IS harder when you have a disability, mental or otherwise. But guess what? That is never going to change. The world will not stop for you just because it's unfair. There is no point in kicking your feet and pouting that it's unfair that you have to do more work than that neurotypical person to keep yourself clean and healthy because nobody did that TO you, it just is. And like, life is unfair to everybody. That is the one universal thing we all experience. Sorry I guess?

I also just like, can not stand how people flip their absolute shit the moment I stop talking to them like little kids. I didn't baby them or coo and go "uwu it's okay if you have mold in your house!" so they immediately took me saying "youre an adult, you need to act like one. Idgaf if you're depressed there are still responsibilities you have towards yourself now" as me denying their mental illness and on par with "have you tried not being sad?"

And like dude, if you can't even handle that from some guy online, I shudder to think of how developmentally behind they are from no ones fault but their own. They talk about mental illness like it makes them forever children unable to ever take any responsibility for themselves, and anyone who points out that no, you're still an adult whether you're sick or not and adulthood comes with certain responsibilities as an attack against them. So they attack back even though nobody swung at them, or even said anything they accused me of saying or implying.

And it's infuriating to those of us who actually made the effort. It's infuriating as someone who fought through all the bs that mental illness comes with in order to get better. It doesn't mean I don't struggle, or that I'm somehow cured, and I never once said that cleaning your room would cure your depression btw, but there is a fine line between struggling with your symptoms and letting them win.

And im so fucking sick of anti-recovery rhetoric. How often do you see someone get dog piled with "WHY ARE YOU CLASSIST YOU SHITTY WEALTH HOARDER YOU SAID THAT MEDICATION AND THERAPY HELPS BUT IM POOR YOU THINK IM A BAD PERSON FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO AFFORD IT"

[antimony-medusa]

Okay prompted by some conversations I’ve been having, but the comment has been made that it’s an unrealistic promise to have been made by a fandom, that if you google your name you won’t find anything you dislike or are uncomfortable with, and boy, does that feel more and more true.

Because like, setting boundaries for your specific circles where you are— twitch chat, your fan art tag, your instagram mentions, your discord— that’s absolutely fair and I support that. That’s healthy. Someone saying “if you comment on my tits I will not be responding and you won’t be welcome at my parties again”, that’s just healthy adult communication. Shutting down sexual comments, or saying you won’t be participating in talk about certain hot-button topics, or saying you won’t be speculating about disability or sexuality or mental health or gender— those are just good moderation techniques of a space.

But like, outside of those spaces that you are sort of in charge of, where people have the expectation that you’re gonna be there— Many of us have had the experience of walking into a room unexpectedly and hearing ourselves discussed, and while that is usually horribly awkward for everyone involved, the people talking about us were not necessarily committing a moral sin, particularly if we’d just done something to attract attention and make ourselves a subject of conversation.

I am not that famous, but I am weird in public, and I’ve walked into a room and heard people going “so wait is she straight or what”, I’ve heard people discussing my grieving process, I’ve heard people speculating about my dating life, and I’ve heard people discuss if I was just uncomfortable with my boobs based on how I dressed. I have walked in on people talking about my legs.

Were those my favorite social experiences of my life? No, but a) in most of those cases no one was doing anything wrong or impolite (one person in the grief conversation was being rude but everyone else was being even-handed), they were simply having a discussion without me in the room b) the victory condition for this experience for me is not to confront them and go “so you can’t figure out if I’m straight” while they stammer, or to vague this conversation later, it’s simply to back away silently and go get some water or something, and maybe text my friends like “guess what!”

The entire internet as it turns up if you name-search yourself is not a conversation that you’re in charge of, it’s a conversation other people are having without you there. And like— it’s most polite to talk about how attractive someone is not to their face! If you see an attractive person on the bus and text your friends about the incredible tits and tattoos on this person, that’s perfectly fine behaviour, while it would be rude to shout that at them across the bus.

I don’t know. Talking about a person, especially if they made themselves noteworthy in some way— ranging from local gossip to major celebrity— is just how human interactions work. This promise that we as a fandom have made to streamers that we will conduct every conversation we have about them like they’re in the room, and thus they will never stumble into awkward or horrifying conversations, is not realistic or sustainable and not how human interactions work with any other social situation. I don’t think it’s fair for the fandom and it’s not safe for the streamer either. I don’t know.

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do your prompts 4, 17, and 53 for TMNT 2012 Donatello?

Of course! @okchijt helped me with the plot as they have for a lot of the fics this run so I hope you enjoy this ^^ I do love writing delusional Donnie.

Yandere! 2012! Donatello Prompts 4, 17, 53

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

"You look so cute in those clothes! I think I picked well...."

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Post kidnapping plot, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Paranoia, Overprotective behavior, Trackers, Isolation, Forced affection, Forced relationship.

You struggle with the clothes left for you. Donnie had left you some items to wear "for your safety" and was awfully adamant on making you wear them. They looked like an outfit you'd normally wear... with some key differences.

Trackers lined the clothing, not just that but other tech was place in the clothing. Most of it you had no idea what it did but according to Donnie is was to keep you safe. When it came to his delusional mind... that could mean anything.

As a result the clothing became clunky and a bit uncomfortable to wear. It both looked decent yet too much. What didn't help was the entire time you struggled with the clothing to put it on, your phone was blowing up.

Anger boiled within you as you finally manage to pull the outfit on your body. The sizes were right but the overwhelming amount of tech made it rub against your skin in an irritating fashion. The last thing you could focus on was the overwhelming amount of calls and texts vibrating your phone.

With a frustrated groan towards your situation you stand up and move the phone across the room. You stare longingly at the locked bedroom door Donnie checked before he left, then entire thing decked out with security. This really did feel like a high tech prison cell.

You pace about the room in an attempt to ignore the ringing cell. Instead the noise irritates you more and you nearly want to break the device. Swallowing your anger, you bite the bullet and turn off the device to soothe your frustrated mind.

Donnie has a mission... a job to do away from you. The mutant shouldn't even be contacting you if he's with his brothers. You're going to ignore him...

You're going to take a nap... it's all you really can do.

In an attempt to take a break from it all you fling yourself into the dingy mattress. You sigh softly and ignore the feeling of clinging dread deep in your stomach. You'll deal with him later... you can't entertain him right now....

. . . .

*BANG*

You don't even recall falling asleep. It just felt like you hit the mattress for a second. Just as you were getting comfortable the door on the door is flung open once everything is disabled. You almost shoot out of your bed when you're meet with a heaving Donnie, eyes frantic and worried.

The moment Donnie's eyes meet your wide tired ones he lets a sigh of relief slip. You mentally place your frustration in a jar before placing a smile on your face. It appears he's in another one of his... frenzies.

"Donnie? What's wrong? I'm still right here!"

The wind is knocked out of you with how quickly Donnie pulls you to his chest. You clunk against his hard shell and feel his bone crushing grip. He nuzzles into you in his hug and mutters curses under his breath.

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?" Donnie's voice is still frantic as he pulls away, worried look on his face. Not wanting the turtle to find out you shut off the phone right now... you prepare a little white lie.

"I was busy! I spent so much time getting the new outfit you gave me on that I didn't have a chance. You really shouldn't call me on missions anyways...." You mumble, excusing your previous behavior with something you hoped was believable.

Donnie barely even ponders the last thing you said, quickly pulling away to get a better look at your outfit. You see the mutant's eyes light up excitedly as his eyes drift up and down the outfit. You sigh thankfully... he seems appeased.

"Oh, Chinchilla!" Donnie coos with a big smile on his face. You cringe internally at the affectionate nickname he calls you. "You look so cute in those clothes! I think I picked well...."

"Of course you did!" You encourage, hoping Donnie forgets all about the phone issue. It appears he has as he holds your face to shower you in praises.

"You've been so good for me lately! Always so obedient and loving... you make me SO happy!" Donnie praises, pulling you into another crushing hug. You would've tolerated such a thing until he peppers you in unwanted kisses.

There's no use in struggling against his affection. It keeps him compliant and you fear upsetting him will warrant more unneeded tech. For now... you'll make things work.

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it." Donnie whispers in your ear, barely hiding his toothy grin. Right after the mutant goes back to nuzzling your skin. Wanting to play into his delusions you wrap your arms around him. You mirror his smile even if you don't mean it and agree.

"Of course! I'm glad you think it looks good...." You agree. Donnie may be too delusional to know it but you don't mean any of what you say. You just know good things happen if you play along...

If you give him what he wants, he may start removing tech from you. Any amount of freedom he gives you is a chance to change things. You just need to play along.

The more you play your role... the more freedom you have...

More freedom... means a better chance at escaping your prison.

[luvtonique]

Hot Take Time

Okay, I'm gonna make a hot take. I want y'all to understand that this is coming from a 34 year old man who draws furry porn for a living and has regularly interacted with well over a thousand customers in his life, as well as partaken in various online discussions, social media platform conversations, and I've been pseudo-canceled a few times, so there you go, now we know each other, run on sentence.

I need to get something off my chest and a lot of you (I'd very safely say over 95% of social media and people in the political system and even regular media) need to get this through your heads.

Here we go, ready? Say this out loud.

"Nobody is responsible for making you feel comfortable, except yourself."

That is something that people just don't seem to understand anymore. We're in this day-and-age of people doing everything in their power to convince other people to change how they act, change what they believe, change the words they can or can't use because they are "not comfortable" and they believe it will make the world a "better place" if other people adhere to a set of guidelines that these people have deemed are necessary for the comfort of the people setting the guidelines (at the expense, of course, of the comfort of the others who are being forced to walk on eggshells).

I don't know how so few of you have a basic moral of "Life isn't fair."

It isn't. Perfection is unattainable, and yet so many of you don't fucking shut the fuck up about how everyone "needs to act" or how other people need to "be better."

Shut the goddamn fuck up, holy shit.

Nobody needs to act different so that you can be comfortable, just fucking grow a spine, holy shit. I don't care WHAT they're doing. I don't care if they're transphobic, racist, sexist, misogynistic, LGBT activists, Trump supporters, Biden supporters, I literally do not give the slightest iota of a fuck. Do they make me uncomfortable? Of course they do. That's why I don't interact with them. For my own comfort I just don't. I do what makes me comfy, I eat pizza, I drink hot cocoa, I take a fucking nap, I take some painkillers for my joint pain, I do a weed gummy, I listen to music, I watch a movie, I sit outside and watch rain fall, I FUCKING RELAX.

I have rheumatoid arthritis and am in excruciating pain 24/7/365 and there is nothing I will ever be able to do about that. Do I complain about it? Sure I do. Do I appreciate it when people carry heavy things for me so I don't have to? Sure I do.

But do I stand there next to a heavy box waiting for someone else to pick it up and then go "EXCUSE ME. I HAVE ARTHRITIS. YOU SHOULD PICK THE BOX UP FOR ME. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU TO PICK THE BOX UP" because I'm of some fucking delusion that everyone on earth has to cater to my disability?

FUCKING. NO.

You know why? Because I, unlike a fucking huge percentage of you all, understand that it is not everyone else's responsibility to cater to me and improve my level of comfort.

Especially if they're not getting paid to do that. If I were paying them, sure, that'd be fine. That's what maids are for, right? But they're not getting paid, and that's where it becomes a very bad thing.

Slavery.

But apparently y'all don't seem to understand that making people do special services or cater their behavior to you without any payment other than "not getting punished, canceled, attacked physically or screamed at" is literally textbook definition slavery. It is quite literally "Do this thing because I demanded it, and if you don't do it or if you do it in an unsatisfactory way, I will whip you."

Let's look at a hypothetical I made up myself.

Say there's a kid in school who, if they hear their name said out loud, attacks and bites the people who said that. There's been 15 incidents in a row, including two teachers being bit by this kid.

What's the solution?

Solution 1) Pull the kid out of school, contact their parents, suggest maybe therapy or putting them in special classes with a guardian of some sort, keep an eye on them, maybe they need to be medicated.

Solution 2) Tell the entire population of the school to stop saying the kid's name out loud and punish any kids who get bit because they broke the rule of catering to this psycho fucking bully.

How in the fuck do so many of you think Solution 2 is the correct solution? How the fuck do you think forcing 8 billion people to adhere to your specific demands via mass manipulation and forced control without any compensation other than "I won't bite you" is the correct course of action?

I have met people that literally their opening sentence is telling me how to talk to them and what things not to talk about around them, and when I asked "Why can't I talk about <completely mundane thing>" they literally had a fucking mental breakdown and got me banned from the Discord server I was in that they contacted me from.

And so many of you, SO MANY OF YOU will act like that's completely reasonable for them to have done and will say I AM THE BAD GUY for "DELIBERATELY ATTACKING THEM WHEN THEY ASKED ME NOT TO."

Holy fucking shit.

If you are so fucking bad off, so unhinged, that you have complete full fledged mental breakdowns over hearing a fucking word or because you scrolled past a text post you disagreed with or because someone voted for a politician you don't like, I'm sorry to say this but you desperately need to get your fucking head checked because that is NOT. FUCKING. NORMAL. BEHAVIOR.

"But Jay, being 'normal' is a social construct that-" SHUT UP.

Care for your own self, improve your own comfort and be happy with "Good enough" like the rest of the fucking world has been learning to do for fucking years, you actual fucking sociopathic manipulative shitfucks.

Thank you for reading.

~Jay (who has been labeled a transphobe for breaking up with a trans girlfriend after 9 years of her lying to him, manipulating him, forcing him to become trans out of emotional abuse, forcing him to attack his own mother, forcing him to pay for her HRT for multiple years and forcing him to be in a poly relationship while not letting him meet the other girlfriends she was fucking regularly while never meeting him IRL a single time. Yeah guess I shoulda stayed with her, I'm the bad guy for not continuing to let her abuse me because her abusing me was "making her more comfortable in the relationship." Listen. I hate to break this to you. But if you act like this, or defend these people, you are a fucking psychopath and I no longer give a shit what you think about me. You are a bad person.)

PS: I usually get people asking, when I make posts like this, "Jay, did something happen?" because y'all assume every time I wanna make a post like this, I just got out of a fight with someone and needed to vent. The truth this time is that this has been boiling up for the last 12 years I've been here on Tumblr, seeing more and more and more of this fucking manipulative sociopath behavior becoming more and more commonplace and accepted and more and more people are scared to speak out against it because if just one of you fucking psychos can damage our reputation and get us fired from our workspace, imagine what thousands of you could do. Well, I'm done catering to y'all. If you are my friend, I will gladly act a certain way around you to make you comfy because I always strive to make my friends, family members, ect. as comfortable as possible.

But if I haven't met you and I'm expected to cater to your comfort zone's rules before even saying hi to you? I'm just noping the fuck out of there because you are a sick, twisted pervert with a fucking power fetish who is blind to how much of a manipulative shitwad you are.

PPS: I know, the assumption here is "Jay's gonna start saying the gamer word to poke the beehive now! He's looking for a fight!"

No, I literally am not. Why would I? I'm trying to live and be comfortable why the shit would I go out of my way to rile the psychos up? I'm gonna just hang out with my friends and family and fans who love me and continue being a respectful person towards people who are respectful in return, rather than go out of my way to find horrible scumbag people and attack them deliberately because I wanna start a fight or some shit. Why would I wanna be in a fight? Why would I wanna deliberately troll or rile people up? That makes me feel bad. I was yelled at and beat by my father for 25 years why would I go try to get myself yelled at more? So take off the tinfoil hat, stop assuming I'm announcing I'm gonna be more openly disrespectful on purpose. I'm a respectful person, I don't attack people, I don't troll people, I don't do anything to deliberately harm anyone.

So I ask you very politely.

If anything you read here today has tarnished your opinion of me?

Please just block me and move on, holy shit. Do the right thing, make yourself more comfortable, stop interacting. Don't waste your time trying to "get through to me" just leave, it's not worth either of our time. Do that with everyone you strongly disagree with. If someone offends you so much you're shitting blood just block them. Why the fuck y'all gotta keep putting your heads in sharks' mouths and then complaining they keep bitin' you.

[dodzishere]

Holy shit I'm so fucking sick of people not acknowledging that I have a disability.

I don't just outright tell people, but for the people that do know, they just ignore it like it's nothing.

I keep forgetting things like my textbooks or turning in my assignment. Maybe I misplaced my pencil. I forgot to grab something even after being reminded, and I get this look of pity or frustration. Like I understand you're frustrated, but just imagine how I feel! I'm disappointed as hell because now I'm unprepared, and this'll set me back even more.

I keep doing things on impulse and don't have a very good filter. Saying things I don't actually mean or out of pocket things like random noises or moving weirdly/jumping/dancing. I get this look of embarrassment or someone telling me to shut up very unkindly. Like, I would if I could buddie, but as it turns out, if I stop moving right now, I'll get this restless feeling that'll make me feel like I'll explode and probably be sent into a meltdown or turn my emotions into anger because I'll get overwhelmed. So fucking excuse me for doing what makes me more comfortable especially for the people around me.

I keep getting distracted, stopping mid sentence to point something out, forgetting what was just said, forgetting what somebody else said, not paying attention because I saw something else, and you get upset because you think I don't think whatever it is you are saying is important. Well, maybe if I remembered what it was, then I would. But as far as I know, that tree we just drove by was a really cool shape and- Oh look! That park looks like the one from where we used to live!

And don't get me started on people having no sense of personal space. You can't just tap my shoulder from behind and expect me not to flinch. Oh, people don't normally do that? Well, sorry, it's just that everyone right now is loud as fuck and you see that fan right there? Yeah, well, it keeps making the light look like it's glitching, and this uniform is made of the most uncomfortable material I've ever had the displeasure of feeling. I also feel like I'm sweating because my hair feels unusually thick, which is saying something because it's thick as hell. So you tapping me on the shoulder just surprised me because I, for some reason, didn't get the memo that I allowed you to touch me in the first place. But I probably wasn't listening to you, so this was your only option.

So yeah I have a fucking disability and I would like the people in my life to know that yes it exists and it's not just some fun fact about me. It affects me and it would do you some good to fucking acknowledge that. Sorry if I'm asking too much of you, though, because I know it's hard to cater to my every need. So I won't tell you any of this because you'll think I'm overreacting and just being extra :)

[novankenn]

Ah, come on!?!

TWO

Wolf Bete sat very uncomfortably, his/her nude form draped and wrapped in a lab coat. Before him/her, a young man was going through a presentation using a wall mounted smart monitor. Wolf's brain swam with facts and images.

Jaune: So that's how the process for Quality Assurance testing. Any questions Wolfie?

Wolf Bete: Ah... um... what?

Jaune: (Rubs the back of his neck with his left hand) I know it's a lot to have dumped on you at one time, and I wish we had more time, but I'm on a time crunch here.

Wolf Bete: Huh? I thought I was finished under budget and on time?

Jaune: This deadline has nothing to do with your production. The BoD has assigned me another task, and I only have a few weeks to get ready for it. So I'm under the gun to get you up to speed before I have to shut the department down.

Wolf Bete: Shut down? (Looks about, seeing several other bio-pods in the process of building bodies) What about... them?

Jaune: I'm not scrapping any of my projects... they'll all be put into a hibernation cycle. Anyway, do you have any questions about the Quality Assurance Test?

Wolf Bete: So what am I doing again? It's a fight, right?

Jaune: Part of it is.

Wolf Bete: Part?

Jaune: The other part, that happens before the combat test, is a Q&A session.

Wolf Bete: Q&A?

Jaune: Questions and Answers.

Wolf Bete: Why?

Jaune: Ah... no idea. The BoD just likes to talk to my creations before watching them fight.

Wolf Bete: What type of things will they ask?

Jaune: Your favourite movie. Which foot you step into the shower with first. Favourite colour, favourite food. Nicknames, what are your current career goals. Stuff like that.

Wolf Bete: Career goals? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was created to fight huntsmen and huntresses, right?

Jaune: Don't forget feral Grimm and the creations of other organizations when need arises.

Wolf Bete: Feral Grimm?

Jaune: Yes.

Wolf Bete: What is that?

Jaune: Feral Grimm are the most aggressive forms of the grimm. They are wild. They form naturally from grimm pits and seek just to destroy, as opposed to Domesticated grimm, and designer grimm.

Wolf Bete: (Tilts his/her head to the side in confusion) Domesticated?

Jaune: Domesticated grimm are grimm, usually of the Beowulf species though there are a few Ursa, that have been trained to follow commands. Much like a dog. They show greater amounts of intelligence than feral grimm, but aside from very specific uses, they can not be expected to follow complicated plans or make judgment calls.

Wolf Bete: Okay, and Designer Grimm?

Jaune: That's you and similar constructs I have made. You were designed, created from the ground up to be autonomous, intelligent and... loyal.

Wolf Bete: Loyal?

Jaune: I started with your brain. You are incapable of turning against us.

Wolf Bete: I'm not feeling real comfortable about that fact.

Jaune: Don't worry about it.

Wolf Bete: Don't WORRY about it?

Jaune: It's not that big of a deal. I mean, so you won't attack us or try to escape. That doesn't stop you from defending yourself if attacked, or making a choice in regard to your own survival.

Wolf Bete: So... this combat test.

Jaune: You'll be tasked with defeating a feral grimm.

Wolf Bete: And if I win, I can then go shred some huntsmen apart?

Jaune: Maybe, though out right killing huntsmen and huntresses is against policy. They do serve a purpose in helping to keep feral grimm numbers down.

Wolf Bete: What? I was created to fight huntsmen and huntresses, and I'm NOT allowed to rip them apart? What's the point of me, then?

Jaune: To defeat them. To stop them from interfering with our plans, and activities.

Wolf Bete: Which means I rip them apart, right?

Jaune: No.

Wolf Bete: No?

Jaune: No, you render them incapable of interfering by depletion of their aura, knocking them unconscious, or disabling them in some fashion.

Wolf Bete: That is so not cool.

Jaune: That's the company policy. We want to dominate the world, not destroy it.

Wolf Bete: But...

Jaune: If you have real concerns about that policy, or require more information, I can arrange for you to speak to Executive Azalea Arc. She's in charge of Policy and Procedures.

Wolf Bete: Okay... okay, none of this makes much sense, and I'm STILL waiting for some clothes!

Jaune: They're on their way, Wolfie. I don't have anything that will fit you... plus... SHE wanted to see you.

Wolf Bete: She?

Jaune: Saphron... CEO of the Inner Circle.

Wolf Bete: Why?

Jaune: (Rubs the back of his neck) Well... I used some of her genetic material in combination with grimm essence to create you, so... you could be considered... in a convoluted way... her son... er, I mean... her daughter.

Wolf Bete: You had it right the first time!

Jaune: Anyway, she should be here in a couple of hours, and the testing won't happen until tomorrow or the day after. So, I know it's pretty soon, but how is the body feeling? No weird issues? Peeing problems? Strange aches or pains?

Wolf Bete: This body feels WRONG! I was supposed to be a guy! How the hell should I know if I'm peeing properly?

Jaune: Well, I can run a patch or two in a couple of weeks to help ease the body issues.

Wolf Bete: Patches? What am I a video game now? Wait, how do I know about video games?

Jaune: When I formed your brain, I gave you some memories and points of reference to make integration easier.

Wolf Bete: Really? And where did those come from?

Jaune: Well... um... I... um...

Wolf Bete: Did they come from you?

Jaune: Maybe?

Wolf Bete: What did you do to me?

Jaune: Nothing bad! Just some points of reference so you could understand things, and relate to the outside world!

Wolf Bete: Really? Then explain why I'm having thoughts about the Red Huntress... and the desire to grab a tube sock.

Jaune: I... um... I... shit!

Wolf Bete: Seriously? You put your obsession in my head?

Jaune: It's a crush!

Wolf Bete: Dude... what you put in my head... is NOT a crush.

Jaune: I...

Wolf Bete: ...

Jaune: Any other questions?

Wolf Bete: ...

Jaune: Guess not... so... um... I'll just go sit at my desk and silently wait for Saphron to arrive.

Wolf Bete: ...

Jaune: You... just do whatever.

Wolf Bete: ...

(== Table of Contents ==)

[merge-conflict]

I Got You Babe

an alternate path for thread-safe, where instead of successfully retrieving valentine, goro gets caught up by her allies, none of which are happy to see him. (unfinished, but I kind of like it and it's my blog so whatever) 2.5k under the cut so don't say I didn't warn ya.

Goro can’t see or hear, but he knows he’s been propped up in a chair, most likely tied down although he’s been drugged so heavily it’s hard to tell. The steady cool stream of air over his skin means he’s inside somewhere, and while he’s lost a bit of time, it’s not enough for them to have taken him out of the city. There’s nothing else he can do now but wait, which leaves him with the uncomfortable prospect of being alone with his thoughts. He holds an image of V in his mind, of her sitting on the chair in front of the window, leaning on her elbows, her wrecked voice repeating It would be kinder just to kill me. The grief keeps him conscious, in a torturous haze which is far less than he deserves.

Yet the uncomfortable pop of his hearing returning snaps him out of a light doze, and he instinctively tries to pull his arms free and fails, all his still limbs heavy and clumsy. Whatever they’ve given him is starting to wear off, and his face aches terribly. His vision comes back all at once, albeit with his HUD disabled and his left eyelid stubbornly gummed shut, probably by blood.

“Can you hear me?” Rogue asks, appraising him as he raises his head to look up at her.

“Yes,” he answers. His tongue feels thick, the inside of his mouth furry. “I can hear you.”

“Good. I have a few questions for you.”

“I cannot promise answers.”

There’s a sharp exhale of breath to his left, and he turns his head to see V leaning against a dresser with her teeth bared. She’s not looking at him but her shoulders hunch under the weight of his gaze. There’s a section of the wood under her left hand where she’s worn away the finish with her fidgeting thumb, and he wonders how long the two of them have been here. They have him in some well-furnished bedroom, and the pile of clothes on the floor by V’s foot tells him it’s hers.

It’s sloppy work, but then there’s no reason for them to worry about him knowing where they are. He is simply easier to control when he is blind, and deaf. Having broken through his defenses, Alt may simply puppet him however she pleases. Arasaka already knows where they are.

“You came here alone?” Rogue asks, regaining his attention.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To bring back V.”

“Alone?” She repeats, dubious. Inviting him to reconsider. “No backup? No extraction team?”

“It would have worked,” V hisses, in a voiceless whisper it takes him some time to understand. She is speaking more carefully than usual, enunciating her consonants sharply to make up for her lack of volume. For the damage he's done to her, written in red angry prints around her neck. “If he hadn’t told me what happened.”

Rogue frowns at her, but her annoyance is muted. They both look as tired as he feels, although far more clear-headed. Perhaps more alert than clear-headed, given V’s state of agitation. “I’m not asking you.”

“Interrogating him is pointless,” V insists. “He’s not going to give you anything more than what we already know.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Rogue replies, a sharp edge appearing in her voice that makes V flinch and huddle into herself. “You can be quiet or you can leave.”

Rogue resumes her interrogation, this time without interruption. He plays his part, answering her simple questions and avoiding her probes, settling into the familiar rhythm. She’s frustrated, if not surprised by his endurance, but it becomes clear there will be no escalation– no threats, no pain, no sweating and screaming, no sputtering gasping burning for air. Just V, silent and stone-faced, running her fingers over every inch of her chrome hand and forearm, like she’s testing the sensitivity. There’s a purpose to it, a repetitive, predictable soothing.

The exercise is pointless, because of her presence. Because he doubts that Rogue is sparing him out of her own principles, or any respect for his well being. In fact, it tells him about V’s level of influence here. Far more than he expected, which also explains much about her decision to come to him alone. It should be comforting, given the alternative, but instead it makes him feel ill. He stops answering Rogue’s questions, closing his eyes and letting his chin fall to his chest.

He doesn’t look up again until he hears another sharp exhale from V– frustration and anger. She moves to the side of the door and waits until Silverhand has burst through it to grab him, one arm wrapped around his neck as she drags him away from his intended path. Her technique is clumsy at best, but as soon as she manages to wrench one of his arms behind him there’s nothing he can do to break free, though he puts a hole through one of the walls in an attempt. Rogue stands warily out of their way. Silverhand continues to struggle and swear until V sinks her bared teeth into his shoulder and he falls abruptly quiet, both of them breathing heavily as they sway against each other.

“Are you done?” Rogue asks them both.

“Are you?” Silverhand snaps back. It’s uncanny, recognizing his snarl on Hellman’s features, and seeing the changes he’s made to his stolen body: the chin-length dyed hair, the tanktop revealing new muscle and the unfinished lines of a tattoo designed to cover his entire left arm. A transformation still in progress. “V’s right– he’s not going to tell us a damned thing. Might as well put this sorry sack of shit out of his fucking misery.”

“You do that,” V replies, voice fading sharply in and out in her anger, “and you’ll be next.”

“Would it not be kinder just to kill me?” Goro asks.

She looks him straight in the eye, unflinching. “I guess we’ll never find out.”

“You’re so desperate to suck his cock again, why don’t you do it now?” Silverhand tests her hold, which is starting to slip with her attention. “That’s all you’ll ever get out of him. Isn’t that how it works? Fuck him once and he’ll tell you how they stole your soul, fuck him again maybe he’ll tell you how sorry he is about it.”

V hisses something in answer that is too garbled and soft for him to catch, but which makes Silverhand laugh harshly. He pulls away sharply while she’s distracted, and breaks free, pinning her to the wall even as she wrestles with him. They’re the same height but he has the advantage of strength, and he pulls her into a possessive kiss. Even that seems to be a struggle for control, and despite himself Goro finds that he’s testing the strength of his bonds, picturing what it would be like to crush Silverhand’s throat in his hands.

Rogue watches almost impassively, as though this is a common occurrence– and perhaps it is, as it becomes clear despite their anger that there is some boundary of violence which they are skirting but will not step over. They play fight like dogs, snapping and growling but never drawing blood.

“Tell me,” Goro says, bitterly, “Am I the one who is desperate?”

Rogue laughs, though with very little actual amusement. “He’s right, Johnny,” she says. “This is more important than your dick measuring contest.”

“Sorry to interrupt you at your work,” he sneers. “If you really want to get something out of him, let Alt have a piece.”

“What is it you would like me to do?” Alt asks, her voice in Goro’s ear, addressing all of them the same way. “I am not a torturer, nor do I intend to become one.”

“Tell that to Smasher.”

“He is not Smasher,” V protests, hands balled in Silverhand’s shirt.

“Sure, Smasher still has his balls.”

Her only response is the swift chop of her chrome hand to this throat, which catches him by surprise. While he coughs and sputters she shoves him aside, brushing past Rogue and moving to stand by Goro’s blind side with her hip just touching his arm.

“Why don’t we pair off?” she says, still in hissing whisper. “Those who set off an atomic bomb in a populated city, and those who didn’t?”

This time Rogue is the one angry, though perhaps only because Silverhand has not yet caught his breath. “You really want to defend Arasaka, right now? Here? To us?”

“It’s not Arasaka I am defending,” V answers, in a heated rush. “But if you think so, then you don’t know me at all.”

“Better than you think,” Rogue replies, and looks at Silverhand. He’s recovered enough to stand upright, but his eyes are murderous.

“Get out,” V says, softly, at a level where she can still produce sound. She’s as deadly serious as he’s ever heard her. More confident then when she had defended herself to him. “Take him with you.”

Rogue looks at her for a long moment, studying her face before nodding curtly. Silverhand’s mouth curls into V’s contemptuous sneer– a dizzyingly perfect recreation, and then he stalks out of the room, brushing past Kerry Eurodyne, who is leaning against the doorway without quite being in the room. He lingers even after Rogue has left, looking first and V and then at Goro himself, frowning.

“Ker,” V says, her hand pressing down on Goro’s shoulder as she leans some of her weight onto him. “Can you get me the medkit?”

“What are you going to do with him?”

Her grip tightens slightly. “Clean his face.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know.”

He is oddly melancholic for a man who is always either playing to the cameras or screaming at the paparazzi. It’s his money that brought them this bastion of safety in a city outside of Arasaka’s sphere of control and yet he does not seem to expect his opinion to matter. Nor, it seems, does anyone else.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“If things had worked out differently,” she says, with some difficulty. “If things had worked out differently and I was the one sent out here to get Johnny, what then?”

“He’s not going to see it that way.”

She makes some gesture that Goro can’t see, and Kerry smiles. He’s handsome, of course, but this smile makes him look every inch his age. Weary and bitter. The gold of his cyberware is not the veneer of youth, but a mark showing where he has been so carefully put back together. He disappears quietly, closing the door behind him.

V crouches down beside Goro’s chair, resting her arm just above the mangled remains of his knee. “If I untie you are you going to try to fight me?”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, thinking of how naturally she and Silverhand had fallen into it. How she had broken a chair over his arm and cut his face before calling for help. “To fight?”

V only smiles sadly. “No.”

He wants to stay bitter, but in the force of both her honesty and her protection he cannot. “I will not fight you.”

Even after she’s released him he is far from free– whether it is a drug or something Alt has done, he is clumsy and uncoordinated, his limbs responding sluggishly to every movement. He cannot stand on his own, but must lean on V, once again reliant on her good favor. She grants him some privacy to use the bathroom and when he is finished brings another chair in with her and sets it down next to the sink, depositing him into it before sitting in his lap.

He closes his eyes while she works to soak the bandages off his face, enduring the pain from the broken skin, patched together with uncomfortable butterfly stitches. A pile of pink stained washcloths grows on the counter, but she still has more to go before Kerry returns bearing the familiar bright green medkit.

“Really did a number on him,” he remarks, leaning back against the column of the shower, apparently here to stay.

“It is not so bad,” Goro replies, and V lets out a strangled laugh, leaning to rest her forehead against his.

“What’s another few scars?” she asks in whisper.

“You could have done much worse.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but her hands are as steady and gentle as ever. Eventually she finishes cleaning the wounds and applies some gel that numbs the pain. By the time she secures a few protective bandages he is beginning to drowse again, replete with the sensation of her fingertips running over his undamaged skin– a tenderness he does not deserve.

“I don’t get it,” Kerry says, voice pitched low. “What kept you apart? You’re obviously…“ He trails off, and Goro makes the effort to open his eyes to see V’s distant stare.

“It only makes sense,” V says, frowning down at his hands, which she has folded on her lap. “You need someone who doesn’t want anything besides keeping Arasaka safe. Everything else is a weakness that can be exploited.”

“If you say so.” Kerry sounds almost disgusted, a surprisingly sentimental position. “But I guess corps don’t get rich by taking care of their grunts.”

“You are a wealthy man.” Goro says, tone mild. “Who have you helped?”

“Me,” V says, sharply. “And Johnny and Rogue and Alt. He’s the only one of any of them who didn’t consider just killing you, Goro. Got the cleanest hands here.”

Goro turns his head, to see Kerry looking at V with something like regret. He manages to draw the other man’s attention. “Even so. I think you understand that it is not always so easy.”

“I don’t understand anything you corpos do,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “But if you had gotten your shit together before now you might not be here with half your face ripped to shreds.”

“Watch your glass penthouses,” V says. The warning means nothing to Goro but makes Kerry grimace before the expression flits away.

“You think I can’t give out good advice?” he asks, flashing a charming smile. “Can tell you a lot of what not to do.”

“Little late for that,” she says, and they all fall silent. Her hand goes to the undamaged side of Goro’s face, and she chews on the inside of her lip, avoiding his eyes as she looks at him. “What are we going to do with you, my dear?”

“Why not keep him?” Kerry suggests.

“Keep him?” V echoes, voice cutting out in her anger. “I’m not a fucking jailer.”

“Hey– it’s not what I meant,” he says, sounding genuinely sorry. “I just mean, Arasaka clearly has you both tied up in knots, playing you off each other. How much of that are you gonna sit back and take?”

“Why not just leave?” V says, still petulant. “Why stay? Why stay so long? How could you let it get so bad?”

“Fuck you,” Kerry says, with venom this time. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“Who knows better than me just how similar they are?” She pauses, breathing irregularly, perilously close to weeping. “Trying to please someone who’ll never be happy? Trying to live on scraps while you’re starving? Terrified of losing what little you have?” Her voice breaks, retreating into the harsh whisper. “C’mon, Ker– tell me what’s different?”

[ikeromantic]

Update on this blog!

Blog Update!

I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I moved my blog to only be viewable if you're logged into Tumblr. I didn't want to do this, but I did want to limit AI scrapers' access to what I write. I love getting to share stories here with people that have nothing more in common with me that a love for the same fandoms and an enthusiasm for fiction. I do not write and share to train someone's text generating AI project.

I have never worried about who reads what I post or even much cared how it was used. Because that's what you agree to when you post things online. You're giving up most of your rights by sharing your text online. I know that.

But I've been increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of AI using my texts to learn how to write. To imitate my style and characterizations. And then to use these freely shared texts to put writers out of work. To flood literary markets with AI text and make it just that much harder to get published or to have anyone notice your self-publication.

AI is meant to be a tool to help guide you to use a better word or phrase, as with grammar programs. To assist in drafting reports and filling out forms. For private use and personal enjoyment. And for people living with disabilities that need that extra help to write or draw or whatever the AI is designed to assist with. AI should not be replacing real people who make real stories and real art.

ChatGPT and similar aren't human, capable of creating something new or interesting. AI written text is an amalgam of all the writing the creators stole when building their program. A regurgitation of the words and phrases drafted out by little amateurs like me to fantastic authors of classics no longer copyright protected.

I do not want to contribute to AI development. I can't see another way to stop them scraping content besides requiring viewers to have a login. Other than, perhaps, shutting this down all together. Hopefully this is enough. Maybe in another year or two when the laws catch up to tech, I can take the privacy setting off again. Or it will get worse and I really will have to stop sharing. Sigh.

So, long story short TL;DR - I don't want AI to use my stories so you have to be logged into Tumblr to read them.