#mental age progression

[bricky-brikson]

Thinking about the "trilion and 12 years old" joke about Bill and thinking about his psychological development after the Euclydia massacre

In the show, we see that while he can plan ahead and manipulate people, he's often foiled by his own impulsiveness/anger/emotions. His ultimate goal is to escape the Nightmare Realm/Dimension 0. And sure, he says this is because he promised the Henchmaniacs he'd help them, but ultimately as others have pointed out, Bill is terrified of death. He wants to live forever - have "a party that never ends with a host who never dies". All he cares about is himself, his own survival and hedonism

All this to say, Bill has the emotional development of a teen. He hasn't gotten past the self-centredness nor the reward/adrenaline seeking behaviour, but has emotionally evolved enough to be able to manipulate people and such (and be able to feel guilt, even if it's just a picogram). Though his immaturity shows when he doesn't get his way.

One might think that, being a trillion years old, he would've developed a bit, but here's the thing - major traumas can "freeze" people at certain developmental stages. We don't know how old Bill was when Euclydia was destroyed - though considering his behaviour I would bet he was a teen.

(Or whatever the equivalent of that stage is for his species. They have exoskeletons- do they have instars then? Whatever, that's not on the topic of this post)

Seeing his entire dimension destroyed after (what was probably) a well-intentioned attempt to show them what he saw ("They'll see. They'll all see.") permanently emotionally stunted him. However it was he got his powers, he was a teen/young adult with powerful abilities who had just erased an entire dimension from existence and was now accountable to no one but himself while also being deeply traumatized. His constant partying and implied substance use were probably the only coping mechanisms he could think of, dissociating because he has no idea how to actually confront what happened. The way he talks about the massacre - he detaches himself from it yet still admits guilt ("A monster."). Only post-divorce does he implicate himself in the event, though still obscuring its true nature ("I liberated them.").

Being surrounded by individuals who are similarly maladjusted for most of his trillion-year lifespan certainly didn't help things. The Henchmaniacs are likely somewhat stunted as well, or at the very least don't offer much in the way of mature/emotionally adult conversation, especially since Bill reacts so poorly (read: homocidally) to any sense of malcontent.

Which is to say, I think part of why Ford was important to Bill was because, compared to him, Ford was more emotionally developed (Ford is emotionally stunted in his own ways, but not as severely as Bill IMO). Subconsciously, their relationship was reaching a hand out to the scared teenager in the centre of Bill's psyche and offering him someone to lean on- someone who had their shit a little bit more figured out. A kind of figure Bill hadn't had since he killed his parents.

Of course, such vulnerability probably felt so alien that Bill tried to distance himself. I always wondered - why didn't Bill just lie to Ford about his plan to take over Dimension 49'\ ? Ford would've believed him, finished the portal, and Bill's plan would've been fulfilled. Well, I think it was Bill trying to burn the emotional bridge. In his own impulsivity, his own desire to dissociate instead of confront, he would rather make sure that he would never be able to be vulnerable to Ford than fulfill his grand plan.

...

I don't remember where I was going with this. There's no conclusion. I'm spinning this triangular multidimensional tyrant at physically impossible speeds in my mind and if I didn't write something about him my skull was going to turn into a fine powder. It's almost 2 AM, so it's entirely possible this post makes 0 sense, in which case feel free to inform me of that in the notes.

[furrytalebeard]

Fatboy American

Mason was a very fit british man. On a business trip to America he had noticed the men here were a lot larger than at home. He thought maybe they could use to do with a few workouts. Regardless he made his way to the corporate building wearing his very prideful British shirt.

"hello I’m Chris, I’m here to assist you while you’re staying here in America." Said a man in a formal suit. Mason noticed how he was more fit than the average American. He seemed to trust Chris.

"Nice to meet you Chris I’m man- sorry Mason." He stumbled over his words at the smell of fried food in the air. "Well Manson it’s nice to meet you as well. You’re going to fit in great. Are you ready for your photo shoot?" "photoshoot? I thought I was here to talk business?" Manson replied.

“Oh no no no the only business you’re going to be dealing with is pictures come come we must not be long. And you’ll need to change out of….that"

Manson pondered what was going on but he was quickly turned to the dressing room. He was face to face with a very large American shirt which he refused to wear.

“sorry I’d rather not wear that if we’re doing photos. I’m not even American."

Chris didn’t seem to like that. "Typical you’ll need a bit of an adjustment. No worries just focus on the smell" Chris said turning around and blasting him in the face with a fart. Manson blinked before the effects began to really hit him. His face began to grow as his beard grew longer. His body began to pack on calories and his well behaved demeanor began to sheink. Manny blinked again and looked around before ripping a fat one and laughing.

"you ready manny?" Chris asked.

"HELL YEAH" he said and flexed in his new shirt. "MERICA"

"Good flex for me fat boy" Chris said taking the photo.

[eastgaysian]

returning from unplanned semi-unofficial hiatus. sincerest apologies to anyone who was trying to contact me while i was away.

my wrists are doing a lot better, but i'm still erring on the side of caution to avoid any more damage that will take a month+ to recover from. having to take a break made it clear it's unsustainable for me as one person to be consistently online/respond to everyone/offer donation commissions all at the same time.

at the moment the plan is to keep more of an eye on my mentions (mentioning me to rb something is always fine) and pick up spotlighting mohammed and farah haboub's campaign again. i cannot promise being online consistently or directly responding to everything, but i will try to at least share any campaigns that are sent my way and donate what i can.

[caffeinatedopossum]

I actually find it really bizarre and counter intuitive that clinically speaking, you cannot legally be diagnosed with a personality disorder until you're at least 18. The reason given for this is because "the personality has not fully developed before this age" like ???

Ah yes, my favorite strategy. Not diagnosing the problem until it's already been virtually cemented into your brain for life! Wouldn't it be easier (and more painless) to address the problem before it's fully developed?

[roller6262]

Hey! Skinny white guy here wishing I was something more exciting!

I can sense you've been touched by the power of many transformations before, perhaps you are a master of transformation as well? Usually I'd be wary of using my power on those like you, in case it rebounded on me, but this request is too tempting to pass. Fine, I'll make you more interesting. You're sitting at home when to hear loud rock coming from outside. You open your front door to find yourself in a suburban neighborhood with a young South Asian man sitting on your doorstep with a speaker.

You want to ask him what he's doing here, but after noticing some angry glares from your neighbors, you think it's best to tell him to turn the music down first. "Turn it down?" He scoffs, "Man, you're the one always saying to turn it up. Listen to this!" He grabs you by the ear and pulls you closer to the speaker, as if standing across the street wouldn't still be a fine distance to hear the track. You curse when you feel a sharp pain where he grabbed your earlobe, but as the sound reverberates through your skull you find that pain turning to pleasure.

You nod your head to the booming drums as your ear lobes grow, craving more of that sound, then filling with large gauges. You tell him he's right, shit this good deserves to be played at max volume. "Hell yeah, especially when it speaks to taking down a broken system. That's what it's like for brown men in a white man's world." You're confused, is brown men referring to you too? You feel your body electrified like a guitar, your body warming up and your skin darkening in turn. Your hair stands on end until the blackened strands curl into a mess much like the man's, though you like your streaked red and sides shaved. You grin, looking at your fellow south asian with your deep brown eyes in newfound familiarity. You can't help but agree that there's nothing more punk than an immigrant.

After a few minutes of listening, your neighbor's annoyed stares become more obvious to both of you. "Man let's ditch these posers. Is it cool if I take this to Zayne's house?" You get excited, recognizing the name of another punk who lives a few blocks down. You agree, noting you're excited to listen there too. "What?" he chuckles, "no offense Man, but I don't think Zayne invites anyone your age to rock out." You wonder what he means by age before looking down at your arms, ever hairier than before. You think you're seeing things, adjusting your glasses out of habit without realizing you weren't wearing any before. Your facial scruff becoming a thick beard. Your clothes turning into a brown polo tucked into white khakis, baggy at first but stretched tighter as your time as a slim youth grows distant from years in a sedentary desk job. Your adjust your polo, trying to give your moobs more room while they jiggle along with your gut to the speaker. Despite your new clothes, you're still a punk in spirit, but a man needs to dress a certain way to work when he's got bills to pay.

you look at the man, now recognizing him as your son. You're a bit sad he keeps calling you "Man" instead of Dad, but a part of you swells with pride as a sign he's inherited some of the anti-authority spirit you grew up with. You sigh, allowing him to go rock out with his friend, but reminding him to come home before dinner and hoping you can jam with him after too.

"Ah kids" I say, stepping out of the house next to yours, looking like a typical suburban man "no matter how cool you are, they always choose their friends." You laugh deeply, clutching on to the bouncing polo that threatens to untuck from your khakis and reveal the furry carpet below. You say your son is probably just going through a rebellious phase. I laugh in kind, "With a rebel dad like you, I'm sure 'rebellious phase' is an understatement!" I'm unsure if you recognize me, or the request you made to me, but I am sure that this life is at the very least more exciting!

[furrytalebeard]

Jolly and white

There was no doubt Harrison was not a good chief. Recently the police chief had stepped down and named Harrison as his replacement. Harrison was very young and very obnoxious, he made the workplace super unfun.

Harrison ignored all his older coworkers ideas, outlawed snacking in the station, and made everything about work work work. His coworkers had just about had enough. So when the yearly Santa visit to the station was scheduled, the staff kept it a secret from Harrison knowing he would cancel it and say they should focus on work, and that Santa promotes a bad body image.

That Saturday the office gathered to watch Harrisons shock as a man dressed as Santa walked into the station bringing desserts for everyone.

"what’s the meaning of this?" Harrison asked.

"Ho ho ho, merry Christmas to you too. I’ve come to spread some cheer and joy" Santa replied.

"I’m sorry but we don’t do treats in this station and you’re severely taking up our time why don’t you head out of here." Harrison fumed. Santa just chuckled "I’m sorry my boy but what’s wrong with a few treats?"

"A few treats? If I didn’t manage these fools they’d have a ton of treats every day and be as fat as you." Harrison replied.

"Oh there’s nothing wrong with that really, my stomach is just right” Santa said lifting his shirt to show Harrison. Harrison walked up and put his hands against the blobby stomach.

"see this is huge and-" Harrison began to choke on his words and cough as he felt his body changing, growing in size.

"it’s unhealthy and- BURRRRRRP" Harrison released a giant belch as the size of his stomach doubled than tripled. His beard began to grow in size too and take on a white color. By the end of his belch his uniform was hard pressed to contain his new fat body, everyone looked at him with shock waiting to hear what he had to say. His brow furrowed and he lifted his leg slightly then let out a giant FRTTTTTTTYY fart.

"HAH HAH HAH. Merry Christmas to you too Santa" Harrison said in a jolly voice. Santa chuckled and patted Harrison’s stomach. "Everyone feel free to take the day off enjoy the holiday season and eat lots of treats"

Everyone cheered they loved Harrison he was the best and most jolly Chief they’d ever had.

#gay #weight_gain #weight gain #fat #transformation #hypnosis #age progression #Santa #personality change #reality shift