#mention of medical condition

[monstersandmaw]

today i read about spider ball pythons where they have an attractive-looking spiderweb pattern on their skin but unfortunately it's tied with a genetic disorder that gives them vertigo and seizures. and it got me thinking about naga royalty who similarly have royal bloodlines with beautiful colors and patterns on their scales but have inherited illnesses that run in the family like both irl human royal families and fancy ball pythons

Oooh, I like this as a piece of interesting and grounded worldbuilding!

[hemlock-dreams]

How do Peter's tattoos work? In a comic it talked about how if Logan got a tattoo it would only last a few hours, a day and a half tops, because of his healing factor it would fade really fast. So how long would your Peter's tattoos last? Does he just have to get them redone once and awhile?

The OG dosage of radioactive venom was via mixing it into ink and tattooing a spider onto his wrist, and his body accepts it without too much hassle. So if Peter wants his tattoos to stay, he's gotta make his own ink mix using a massive dose of his venom as a bonding agent.

Obviously the ink is crazy fucking toxic and cannot be handled by bare hands. Anything touching the ink has to also be disposed of.

The hardest part about getting tattoos for Peter is finding an artist who is alright with accepting weird under-the-counter ink and willing to use Peter's tattoo gun (when he had one) or be ok with throwing their gun away after finishing a session.

It also takes a few sessions, where the artist has to refresh the tattoo to get it to permanently stick. As you can imagine, getting tattoos are a luxury expense for Peter because the bill can run super high and the list of people willing to do the above + be good is a small ass pool.

Pictured here is the average tattoo artist for Peter:

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

gee i wonder if the issue could be at all related to the fact that the current treatment plan for his chronic pain consists solely of FUCKING IBUPROFEN

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Medical Conference

hi guys um. i cant stop writing destroyer. i swear ill figure out a system to organize these “bonus” chapters soon i promise i promise

delta is eighteen in this but the chapter delves into abuse he experienced when he was a child so cw for that

(Content: living weapon whumpee, lab whump, medical whump, put on display, dehumanization, conditioning, noncon drugging, needles, non-consensual/nonsexual nudity, noncon touching, physical abuse, emotional whump, angst, child abuse, child death mention, parental whump?)

~

“I forgot, sir,” Delta tried weakly. He knew as soon as he said it that he should’ve just kept quiet.

“No, you didn’t. You’re going to lie about it as well?” Dr.Martino shut down the attempt, focusing his attention back to the device.

Delta laid down unmoving against the steel table as the scanner searched over him. It gave him mild electric shocks each time it passed. Of course, he hadn’t been looking forward to the diagnostic tests. But he hadn’t been trying to get out of it entirely. That wouldn’t have worked. He only wanted more time to psych himself up for it. Too long, apparently. He’d had to be collected for it. It’d been a bad note to start on.

The rest of the exam went on in silence, without anymore mention of his avoidance. As Delta redressed, he thought he might’ve been off the hook for it. Dr.Martino was fumbling though his desk drawers like he’d already left. 

He produced two unopened packs of pencils from inside the desk. Delta deflated a little bit. 

Delta took the pencils and arranged them in two rows along the floor, lined up flush against one another. Gingerly, he kneeled down on top of them.

“Hands behind your back,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair.

Already there. He knew the drill. He lowered his head, silently counting. No longer than twenty minutes, usually. No fewer than ten.

When he looked up again, Martino was leaning back against the table, flipping through a folder.

“The ISCEM conference is coming up in a month,” he said offhandedly, as if this would mean something to him.

“Okay?” Delta answered, more in confusion than anything else. He hadn’t meant for it to be disrespectful. 

Nevertheless, Dr.Martino’s shoe pressed down against his calf, driving the pencils further into his skin. 

“Yes, sir,” he quickly corrected himself. The pressure disappeared. The pain stayed where it was.

“You were probably too young to remember the last one, weren’t you?” Dr.Martino sighed.

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t really think about it. He was pretty distracted by the numbness traveling down his legs.

“Well, put it on your calendar. Don’t want you forgetting again.”

“Yes, sir.” 

He didn’t have a calendar.

~

“Mention the steady-state thing we discussed. I have files on it, I - is it too late to make a copy? I will. And if you could just please pass along a message for me, I would be ever so grateful,” Simon went on, fumbling through his own briefcase, trying to give what he could. Dr.Martino took the reports from him, flipping them around to see the equations he’d scribbled onto the back.

“You’re not coming? Sir?” Delta added the “sir” on as an afterthought, conscious of the doctor’s presence. Simon himself rarely demanded such formalities.

“Don’t interrupt,” Dr.Martino snapped, more tense than usual. But Simon obliged him, stepping a little closer.

“Not my scene.” Simon patted his head. It was soft, but Delta reflexively flinched away from any hands that drew too near to his face. 

Something on the desk beeped. The transit had rafted up. 

Delta held his wrists up easily as Martino presented the cuffs. They were psychic tech, meant to restrict his powers more than the collar already did. Presumably some kind of safety measure. He felt his world going flat as they clicked into place, all his spatial awareness reduced to a single field of view. The effect was extremely disorienting. He nearly fell over getting off of the table.

~

He’d mostly evened out by the time they’d gotten to the hotel. He sat idly against the chair he’d been placed in, watching the doctor unpack. Everything in the room was the same shade of beige. 

It seemed like they should’ve been able to go. Martino abruptly produce a vial from the bag. Delta recognized it as a sedative. He inserted the syringe into it, drawing it back up.

“I’ll behave, sir,” Delta offered. He eyed the needle warily; he’d usually have been given something in the way of warning.

Martino shook his head. He took a firm grip of Delta’s arm.

“Believe me, this is for your own good.”

Delta tensed his arm up, holding still as the needle entered him. Something cold shot into his veins. It took a long time for the chamber to empty. 

~

It hit him before they even reached the elevator. He clung to Martino’s arm, needing something to brace himself against, however briefly. Martino assured him he wouldn’t have to stand for long. They moved backstage at the panel. Delta nearly collapsed into the fold-up chair.

The cuffs were briefly removed as he was given the medical gown to wear. His hands moved slower than he would’ve liked, but he was able to put it on. It tied along the front, leaving much of his chest exposed.

Dr.Martino took a minute to make sure it was fitted correctly. He cursed, noticing for the first time the visible boot print against the side of Delta’s ribs. 

“Great. They’re going to think I beat you.”

You do beat me, Delta thought. Not as much as he used to. Not as much as Paris. But Martino still hit him. 

The doctor felt over the bruise with his hand, reigniting the pain. Delta winced. It was recent — still tender. The sedative helped a bit. All his thoughts were coming to him in a haze.

There was nothing that could be done to cover it, so apparently they were just going to ignore it. The cuffs came back on around his wrists. He led Delta out onto the platform regardless, sitting him up against the stool. It was had a back to it, luckily. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay upright without it. He’d been trained enough not to slouch or to look so outwardly high, but it was definitely a struggle to maintain neutrality. He kept his head down. It was the safest, the easiest to maintain for a long period. People gradually filed in. Though he was used to being put on display, the sterility and lack of decorum in this new space made the whole thing feel all the more jarring. It all felt far away, though.

His eyes closed without meaning to. When he tuned back in, Dr.Martino was droning on. He recognized some of the words. He would’ve recognized more if he wasn’t drugged. It was a talk about internal power generation. Conduits. There was a hand on his shoulder. Delta stood up from the chair. The gown was pulled down a bit from his shoulders.

Martino pressed the multimeter to his collarbones, watching the number climb until it broke. He pulled it away before it could burn up completely. He pressed a thin disk up against Delta’s chest, where it held there. It was some kind of controller. A thin arc of electricity emerged from it without any conscious intention on his part. More appeared, each of them branching away from his body like a plasma ball. The effect was immediate; that familiar fear crept into the eyes of the audience. 

It cut all at once. The disk was removed. Delta sat back down on the chair, pulling the gown back up over himself. 

The lights darkened. Behind him, a clip show began to play. He didn’t need to look back. He’d seen it plenty of times. Different explosions, annihilations, destructions. All his own work. He could recount each of them to the second. It played for a long time.

For some reason, they clapped when it was over.

~

“Sorry — do you mind if I look at it?” 

Delta opened his eyes again, sensing the it in question. He tensed up. 

He hated being touched. The moderator stripped the gown back again. He felt the electric pulse still going about Delta’s clavicle. His hands traveled around the collar. 

“I’m biomedical by trade,” the man explained, tapping at the gold, “This is custom, yes? When was it made?”

“The model’s about five years old. It gets updated about once a year.”

“Incredible. I see some scarring, though.”

Delta shivered as the fingers traced the burn scars by his neck, a bit on his trapezius. They were in the shape of a Lichtenberg figure.

“That seems non-optimal?”

“Those actually predate the collar. They’re a natural result of it overextending itself during an exercise. The restrictor works as a stopgap to prevent that kind of burnout.”

Though he’d expected it, it still jarred Delta just how easily Martino slipped back into calling him it.

Another scientist approached. She slid up to Martino, shaking his hand eagerly.

“Oh, darling.” He embraced her. She grinned, readjusting her jacket as they pulled away.

“Danny, it’s been ages. How are the girls?” Her nails clicked together.

Danny. The girls. Martino actually had a family. Not that he ever saw them. He had daughters. They’d been kids, the one and only time Delta had ever met them. They had to be in their twenties by now. 

“Brats, the lot of them. They’re smart, though. Smarter than I was at their age.”

“Well, that’s not saying much.”

Delta was not surprised when her hands traveled onto him. He barely flinched this time. But he hadn’t expected her to speak to him.

“Oh, and look at you. You’re all grown up now, huh?” 

She gripped his chin in between her fingers, studying his face. The touch wasn’t harsh, nor was it gentle.

“You probably don’t remember me.”

That was correct. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he could find no memories to attach to it.

“He’s a bit distant at the moment. You’ll have to forgive him,” Martino answered for him.

She released her grip, turning her attention back to the doctor. Even in his current state, it didn’t take him long to put it together. She’d been one of the teachers at the Institute. He wondered how many of them were wandering around out there now. Most of them. Dr.Martino had been the only one to retain some semblance of his position. All the other administrators had been cast away just the same as the students.

He had forgotten nearly every one of their names.

~

Martino packed up the last of the day’s display materials, arranging all of it back into the suitcase. It’d been a success, as far as these things go. He’d revealed all he could without breaching the terms of his contract. All the real science was under a strict NDA. It was nice to catch up with some colleagues, though. It was healthy to be off of a spaceship every once in a while.

He tugged Delta’s sleeve, pulling him up from the plastic chair. He took a minute to undo the cuffs; he’d thought they were an excessive measure to begin with and they had prevented any real show of power. Delta rubbed idly at the marks they had left there.

They made their way back up to the hotel room. The drug had not yet worn off; Delta still stumbled a bit when he walked. He’d redressed himself in a thick hoodie, trying to keep out the chill from the overactive AC or perhaps just trying to hide. 

The door opened. Martino dropped his suitcase onto the bed. Presumably out of habit, Delta lowered himself to the floor, kneeling there. Waiting for instructions, as if he could have followed them. Martino scoffed. 

“You can sit on the bed. I booked a double room for a reason.”

He watched the whole minute it took for his words to sink in. The way it took even longer for Delta to actually rise, blearily climbing up onto the mattress. His hands gripped searchingly across the blanket, pulling up the edges like he needed something to hold onto.

Martino ignored him. He moved to the far side of the room and opened the door to the balcony. The city skyline was clearly visible just down the road. The lights from it shone brighter than the stars from space. Martino produced one of the foreign cigarettes from its packet. The ember burned in the dark night. It was all quiet.

“What was I like when I was little?”

He turned to look at Delta. The kid was drugged out of his mind. He might’ve given him too much.

Dr.Martino took a long drag. He rarely smoked, so used to the endless sterility that he would not so much as dirty the air. But tonight was a rare night.

“What were you like?” He ashed the cigarette, turning back to look at the night skyline. “I don’t remember.”

Delta looked down, disappointed. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. Martino sighed, losing the battle.

“…You were quiet. Same as you are now. You mostly kept to yourself.”

He gave no visible reaction.

“You didn’t get along so well with the other kids,” Martino admitted, some disdain entering his voice. 

Delta looked up. His expression was totally blank.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked.

It was manipulative, and self-pitying in a way that did not flatter him. Martino put the cigarette out. He stepped back into the room.

Delta shrank back a bit. The doctor looked him over. His eyes had dimmed some, no doubt due to the sedative. His hands were unbloodied. Just looking at him, no one would have know what he’d done. Martino remembered the sound of bones snapping and the bodies out in the yard. He remembered the expression Delta had worn the first time he’d killed — as blank and unfeeling as the one he wore now. He did hate him, he supposed. He’d never been his favorite. All his favorites had been buried a long time ago.

He didn’t say that. He remembered his lines — and he cursed himself for ever diverging from them, even for a second. He would correct it now.

“There is no you.”

Delta opened his mouth as if to object, then thought better of it. Good.

“No more talking tonight,” Martino said.

Delta nodded, laying down onto the mattress. He fell asleep with all the lights on.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @pigeonwhumps

[ckret2]

Are you perhaps going to add Bill's evident medical trauma into the story?

Bill's been getting called insane for seeing the third dimension by his mom since chapter 15 and I've mentioned his vision is tied to a medical condition he was born with. We were already going there.

Only difference is now he's going to an optometrist in addition to an orthopedic doctor.

[bamsara]

You got drugged!!!??

Yeah it wasn't great lol

I spent most of that day in the medical tent (I went as soon as I felt *off*) and the health workers took great care of me and were super nice so it worked out in the end. First time going to a music festival was really an experience huh

[canonicallysoulmates]

I am genuinely upset about the tiktok ban. For a variety of reasons. But I wanna touch upon one very specific one which is the one that hit me the hardest. Earlier tonight I was scrolling through my favorites to try and save as many of the slideshow ones that I could and it hit me how much we (those affected by the ban) are going to lose.

Recommendations for all types of media - I want to be explicitly clear that I am including booktok in this because there's nothing wrong with romance or erotica and also it is so much more than that -, inspiration for literally everything (nails, makeup, weddings, outfits, etc.), tutorials, recipe ideas, small businesses that you could visit or buy from online! Crafting and art. So many people found their creativity through that platform or were encouraged to pursue creative endeavors. From indie authors, to painters, even edit makers some of whom made masterpieces.

Even if it is "saved" all those things will still be lost because we know a deal was made behind closed doors which even if not right away will still eventually turn the application into another FB/Insta or Twitter.

Was tiktok perfect? No, there are some things I hated.

But I learned from so many different perspectives, cultures, races, sexual identities, ages. Hell, I even learned about my own country!

Whether people like it, understand it, or accept it - which I know they don't - tiktok had the capacity to be very educational and informative. It's sad to lose that.

[face-breaker]

what if we talked more about elliott's language / speech impediment ?

( aka: copy & pasted old hc posts with broken links. ) we have A LOT to unpack here, and if we’re bein’ honest — i’m not sure i even know where to start ! but i guess we can first lay down some ( headcanon ) facts:      elliott displays several different speech and language impediments when speaking. some are more prominent than others, some he’s gotten pretty good at ‘ masking ’ or controlling.           in this post, we’ll talk about the main and most conspicuous of them all: his APHASIA.

     it’s the one that’s got him forgetting certain words and how to properly pronounce them, sometimes even replacing them with other words. there’s a few things to note about this condition in elliott’s case specifically: for starters, he IS properly diagnosed, and has been since he was twenty-eight. however, due to the nature of the condition and how he developed it, IT IS UNTREATABLE. it will also only WORSEN with time.

     the specific type of aphasia elliott was diagnosed with is called primary progressive aphasia ( or PPA ), which is a neurological syndrome in which language capabilities become slowly and progressively impaired. unlike other forms of aphasia that typically result from a stroke or brain injury, PPA is caused by neurodegenerative diseases, such as EARLY-ONSET ALZHEIMER’S DISEASE — which he was also diagnosed with at the same time. it does run on his mother’s side of the family. there’s three sub-categories of PPA, elliott’s diagnosis being logopenic variant primary progressive aphasia, or lvPPA. persons with lvPPA have increasing trouble thinking of the words they want to say and, as time goes on, have more trouble getting the words out and pronounced properly. they eventually begin to speak slower and slower in an attempt to process language, and sometimes find such difficulty in finding words that they might stop speaking all together. difficulties with memory typically get worse over time, and reading and writing may become harder. eventually, they may even start to get lost or have trouble recognizing people.

          and that absolutely TERRIFIES elliott.

     ever since his diagnosis, he attends speech therapy every other week and has regular doctor’s appointments to keep up with the development of his alzheimer’s. it’s something he doesn’t like talking about, and will hardly mention it to even his close friends. the worst part about it being: having to watch his mother live through it and seeing what it’s done and continues to do to her every day. he hates the idea of living like that, HATES the idea of dying like that; alone, confused and SCARED...

     he fights to keep her every day — he wonders if he’ll ever get that bad...when he’ll get that bad. and if there will be anyone there to fight for HIM the way he does for her — and if he’ll even remember who they are when they do.

     there’s times where these thoughts keep him up at night; long, dark hours of just WONDERING — but he always manages to get up and put a smile on other’s faces.

     he’d argue that it’s because he just enjoys other’s happiness — which, he wouldn’t be wrong — but, maybe it does have a little bit to do with, giving them something GOOD to remember him by. because he knows that, at some point, he won’t be enough of HIMSELF to share that with the world anymore.

[fisheadz]

I’ve decided to write more about the SWTD + ISM crossover, because I doubt I’ll ever write any longfics about it, so I like throwing out the plot like wet laundry. Any grass stains or mud splotches get added to the story, because I like them.

I’ve made up my mind about how @milestonekestrel ‘s Caz survives AU happens here. Addair Thing doesn’t show up until after Caz meets the others, but before they realize that there’s been a misunderstanding. In fact, I think that Addair Thing showing up is what reveals it, and they ask Caz and he’s like “wait what did you guys think happened to me?” And it’s a whole thing. (Do not ask me how Addair got to Milton Haven.)

Now, where does the showdown™️ take place? The old quarry is a possibility, likely being completely abandoned after Desmond, Lucas and everyone else popped the lid on Mayers bullshit. Maybe we can pretend Fort Sonder is bigger than it is and make it happen there, idk.

Now obviously the main priority is to keep everything under wraps, and to get rid of it. Things change here, because Caz doesn’t get a chance to rush in, and I think while he’s talking with the others, Suze and Billy catch up, so they know now (after a whole lot of convincing). Meanwhile the Shape is getting impatient, and Addairs going nuts, so they have to act fast to kill him.

Billy, of course, gets chew-toyed by the bastard at some point, but I think with Desmond and Virginias help (I hc that her brother is a nurse, and therefore has taught her a thing or two, and Desmonds obvious) the damage is mitigated somewhat. His arms still fucked, but it’s not as bad as it could be. With more targets, they have to be sneakier, but they can distract him better while someone else does something important.

If this is the old quarry, I think reflooding the pit with Addair trapped in one of those rock cage things is feasible. If it’s Fort Sonder, we can just imagine that there’s some water tanks in there somewhere. Ain’t fanfiction fun?

Once Addairs killed (they possibly find connections between the Shape and AR, along the way. As a treat) they regroup, take the injured to go get uninjured, and live happily ever after. Totally. :D.

Except, no! Because now the Shape lives in all of them! And now I get to talk about my little Shape + Agent Rainbow interaction!

This is going off the theory that it’s a parasite. A really funky, really mindscrewy parasite. That just so happens to have the ability to tap into the Collective Unconscious. I imagine that it wouldn’t get much farther than someone’s personal conscious, but with AR’s help, it can spread more in the weird, barely explained hivemind.

Now imagine this - you got a Shadow, and it sucks. It resides in your personal conscious, though as Desmond proves, that can be accessed through the CU as a whole if you can find the way in. Typically this requires a deeper connection to the CU, you need your personal conscious to have more of an influence on the CU. Desmond has this connection through whatever strain Mayer gave him, or maybe through his brain reacting differently to the chemical. Lucas doesn’t, at least not anymore, either because of the strain, or the dosage, or the circumstance, or his brain, or a combination of the four.

But, that connection also means your Shadow has more of an influence on the CU, more sentience, like Desmond’s Shadow, Agent Rainbow. The others’ Shadows were stuck in their personal conscious - as they should be. Shadows are supposed to stay with the person they belong to. Agent Rainbow the chemical, changes that. As Rosemary points out, it weakens that divide, making it possible to connect to someone via the CU. Communicating from one PC, to another, through the CU as a whole. Like the internet.

AR the Shadow could mess around in other PC’s, interacting with the environment. This is especially obvious when he changes a whole ass corridor in Max’s tape, letting Desmond walk through it with nothing in his way when, once AR changes it back to normal, there’s clearly no straight way through without getting hurt. AR doesn’t have complete control, not by a long shot, but he has enough to really fuck with things. Not enough to prevent Desmond from defeating the Shadows, but still. A Shadow having this much influence over a different PC is clearly bad, given a Shadows nature. Which is why it’s very important that they stay in their PC, where they’re supposed to be.

The Shape, this parasite that spreads through peoples PC and the CU? That screws with peoples heads to the point of driving them insane? AR weakened the divide between the CU and ones PC. The Shape breaks it entirely. It enters someone’s PC, messes with them, and once that Shadow is at its strongest, the person having completely given up on fighting it (however subconscious that fight is), it uses that weakness to destroy the PC, opening it to the CU completely, and spreading out to the CU. This releases the Shadow, and while it isn’t as freethinking and Desmonds Shadow, it’s still very destructive.

It can affect other PCs to an extent, and can royally fuck up those more open PCs I mentioned, the ones like Desmond’s that are somewhat merged with the CU. This is how it spreads, at least in a way. It destroys your mind utterly and irreparably, allowing it to take you over, so it can spread in a more physical manner. It destroys you mentally, so that it can destroy you physically, so that it can infect more people, so that it can repeat the process however many times it needs to.

Does this mean that it’s completely indestructible? Yeah, pretty much. Does this mean that you can’t stop it from spreading? Not really. If you can stop it from breaking the PC, then its mental spread stops there. It still weakens the PC, of course. It leaves the person more vulnerable, but it doesn’t get out into the CU, and it can’t infect more PCs. It can only mentally spread to people who are already infected physically, so as long as the person isn’t taken over physically, the spread stops with them.

Does ANY of this make sense. Fuck no! Like I said, the CU isn’t very explained, so we can theorize and headcanon it to oblivion. And in this universe that also has the Shape, which is also not explained, we are Gods at our thrones, pushing around little wooden figures to make an aesthetically pleasing visual. Or something poetic like that, idk.

And now, with the ISM group infected, the Shape is a greater threat than ever. Especially with Desmond, whose PC, as I mentioned before, is very exposed to the CU. In a sense, he’s a doorway to other PCs, though this is limited to a few people. And the Shape happens to be an opportunist.

Now they have an extremely volatile time bomb on their hands, in the form of their cell former therapist, and his former patients, who have all had their PCs weaken by AR the chemical, and Caz and Suze and Billy, have to find a way to keep it from spreading further within the CU. Because they don’t know if anyone else was infected by the Shape. It’s been a long time between Caz getting off the rig, and Addair coming for him, he could have infected anybody between then!

That arc, however, is to be elaborated on more at a different time. I is so very tired at the moment :<. It’s 1am, and it’s been a long day.

Oh my gosh this is awesome tho! I feel powerful, Shaping (heh) this mini plot like silly putty. I’m still working on my wip ISM fic, but between my rapid-fire bursts of motivation, I like thinking about this crossover. There’s so much that I can do with the Shape and AR, it’s giving me headaches. Or I’m just dehydrated, whatever.

[splickedylit]

I reread domestic diplomacy for the umpteenth time and it’s just! So! Good! I love love love how from Dave’s perspective Gamzee is an absolutely fuckoff enormous clown monster who apparently stalked straight out of a horror movie and into Dave’s life as part of his alien boyfriend’s traditional alien polycule. I’m cracking up just contemplating it, it’s such a good dynamic! Especially with all the xenolinguistics and communication difficulty! 😂

I love how your Makaras are typically written as being on the absolute upper end of the troll height range, which it looks like is out beyond nearly all human outliers. It sort of sounds like the troll height distribution of your stories has a broader range in general than human heights? Or would you say that the average troll is taller than the average human, and the spread is comparable?

Hee, thank you very much! I think Dave definitely was feeling like a pretty cool dude who was totally chill about his boyfriend's weird alien stuff, but Karkat's a pretty entry-level alien as far as aliens go, lol. Turns out they also come in "7+ foot fish-goat-bug alien in clown paint" flavor.

RE: heights, I would say...hm. The average troll height is a little taller than the average human height, although the mode--sorry to break out math concepts haha--is about the same! Most trolls you meet are about normal human-sized. But I've had a long-time headcanon that trolls just continue to grow as long as they're alive, so very long-lived highbloods create dramatic outliers that bias the overall average upward! Average troll is over 6 feet is actually statistical error: Big Motherfucker Peixes, who has been growing for thousands of years and is the size of a truck, is an outlier adn should not have been counted haha

I will also say, on top of that, I think of my Tall Makaras as not even "the upper end of the range", but as outlying the range completely! Like, that at 15-20 sweeps, Gamzee is at the height that would be expected from a highblood several hundred sweeps his senior. And the GHB, at multiple hundreds of sweeps old, is bigger than literally anybody, and pretty much only matched by the Condesce, who's ridiculously old and has been growing the whole time like a lobster haha.

I find it very fun if all twelve of the main trolls we get in canon have like. Some form of mutation, or something outside of the norm about them--some of those are canon (Equius's strength, Nitram wings, Karkat's blood, Kanaya the rainbow drinker), and some of them are me having fun! And, y'know, making the Makaras big enough that even other trolls who are used to big highbloods see them and go (°ロ°)

[forgotten-daydreamer]

vent moment but my health is a bit worse than i let on, which is weird ik since it seems like complain about it all the time here, and apparently i also look sick, because two separate people in their 40s or 50s asked me, 24, if i needed their seat on the bus. kind of them. but humiliating nonetheless.

[bmpmp3]

fffffffffuuuuuuccccccccccck i was always meant to become a mascot character designer

[the-firefly-jar-system]

realized there’s literally like. 7 case reports *ever* on our genetic condition (i think that’s the right term for it- it’s not a super super rare condition usually, but it is *incredibly* rare for it to be genetic/familial)

i sorta wanna ask our doctor… (one of them?)… if there’s any reason that the case of my mom and i should be officially reported, and if so, how that happens. idk why to me it feels wrong(?) somehow to not officially report our case if if hasn’t been already

okay i need to stop trying to find any more reports on it bc 1) they actually just don’t exist and 2) i’m starting to get a bit ahhh bc i keep reading these things even though they’re chock full of triggering things! and i am ignoring my physical and emotional reactions so let’s stop before it gets worse!!

anyway uh i think the universe should stop giving us rare disorders and conditions. we’ve had enough thanks!

[ladyfarona]

They should invent a painkiller that's not acetaminophen or aspirin or naproxen or ibuprofen. We're long overdue for an upgrade in OTC meds who's with me.

[vent-antiendo]

(tw ED, non system vent.)

(I know you have an ED as I saw on ur main, so feel free to delete if this triggers you <3 /p)

---

It pisses me off how so many fat activists are claiming to have ana. Sure overweight and obese people can develop it, but in order for you to have it you have. to. lose. weight. which they're all against!!!

They don't acknowledge that people with BED commonly restrict too. Please do your research before saying u have ana!!! It just makes me so mad because now people are getting a warped view of both ana and BED.

If ur gonna claim to have an ED at least make it realistic, like saying BED or Paul /ref (Please tell me you get that)

(It's okay, you can vent about anything here and I'm fine with ED content, as long as you're pro recovery.)

And yeah I totally agree with you. I watch a lot of fat activism content (I don't mean the creators themselves, I watch people like the Cynical Dude, It's Germaine, Sam at every Size etc. People who debunk the FA's essentially) and it's shocking how many FA's claim to have a restrictive ED, most often AN. I hope these people get the help they need, but in most cases, it's not for AN or even Atypical ana. Even if you do OMAD and your OMAD is 10.000 calories, that's still binging, and still BED.

Like with the whole Tess Holliday situation, she was "dx'ed" (not officially) by a HAES dietician, who said AN which Tess doesn't qualify for because of her weight. And Atypical ana isn't it either because just take one look at her content. But if she actually got the dx of the ED she most likely has, BED, fat acceptance would immediately crumble because it'd disprove everything they stand for.

(sorry I have a lot to say about this, I could go on for hours)

And YES I GET THE PAUL REF OMFG I'm on twt more than Tumblr tbh.

[coulsonlives]

Who was gonna tell me that Adam Powell, the original creator of Neopets, lost his mind and went full-on crypto bro in the neopets discord a few months ago

He totally did the textbook 'us versus them, you're all Poor and Uneducated Bums' thing

And then he literally flipped the bird to everyone

Never meet your heroes, apparently