#tw adult language

[ofishal-fish-posts]

two trucks anon here. you just. you just give me the vibes of 2 fucking trucks. i dunno. (im also ace and celibate funnily enough sksbsksjs)

what a coincidence lol

i also find it interesting that i give off the vibe of 2 anything fucking but fair enough

[whumpflash]

cw: slavery, dehumanization, noncon strip/nudity (nonsexual), adult language, alcohol mention

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

The sun was rising when they reached the slavers' camp. The journey has dampened Judd's unwanted hangover enough for him to focus, and he made an effort to determine their direction of travel.

East. Right into the fucking sun.

He angled his head to avoid the light, doing anything he could to lessen the pounding in his skull.

Fucking wine. He almost wished Skye would've just kicked his ass instead of resorting to creativity. It had been almost a whole day since he'd had any water, and the booze only served to rush the dehydration process.

Water first, he thought. Then I'll get the hell out.

The slaver camp was a lot smaller than the site Judd called home, just a few makeshift buildings and a public area protected from the sun by a tarp. There was a weapons rack, and a pile of what looked like spare speeder parts. Tools he could use to escape, or fight his way out when the time was right.

He tried to ignore the other objects in the area. Shackles. Whips. A metal pole with a length of chain welded to it, and a small rusted cage a foot away from that. Cage and manacles were both empty. He'd find no allies here, but there didn't seem to be many enemies either. Aside from the two that had snatched him, there were only a handful others, coming out of their huts or getting up from cleaning their weapons to see what their buddies had returned with.

Judd was dumped just shy of the shade, struggling to lift his head as a pair of boots came into view. They were attached to a woman, well-muscled and covered in freckles.

"Brought me back a treasure, eh?" she said, lifting his chin with the toe of her boot. He jerked away, falling back onto the cracked dirt, and wincing as the movement drove a fresh spike of pain through his head. 

"Wreck was deserted by the time we got there, but this idiot made the mistake of sticking around," Rika replied.

Sticking around? Yeah, picking on the kid had been a mistake, but Judd wasn't fucking stupid.

"What do you think, Sonora?" Rika's partner said. "Good haul?"

"Should make us a pretty penny," the other woman said, approval in her voice. "Get it settled in."

It. He was already written off as an object to them, something that had no value aside from a price tag.

The pair moved to obey her, dragging Judd under the tarp and into the marginally cooler shade. His arms—by now well past aching—were freed at last from Skye's bindings. Rope was swiftly replaced with metal cuffs, each one connected to a long chain that trailed upward, wrapping around a beam that sat a few feet above his head.

Not just a beam, he saw, noticing gears on either side of it, interlocking all the way down to hip height, where a handle jutted out. Some kind of mechanism, probably designed to shorten his leash whenever they saw fit.

Clearly the group had way too much time on their fucking hands, but if nothing else, the machine told him this was their permanent base.

Good. When he got out, he'd come back here with a hoard of scavs. Burn it down.

"Let's get a look at it," Sonora said, and Rika moved to the handle, confirming his suspicions as she cranked it until the chains were taut and his arms were suspended above his head. Maybe it was procedure, maybe she'd just made up her mind to give him misery, but she didn't lock the mechanism in place until Judd's feet were barely touching the ground.

He cursed through the gag, shooting her a hateful glare that was pointedly ignored.

Sonora selected a knife from the weapons rack and closed the distance on him. He did his damnedest to jerk back as she set the blade against his chest, but she didn't cut him, instead slicing through the fabric of his shirt.

Judd let out a muffled yell of protest as she moved to his jacket, a fancy sun-reflecting thing he'd paid out the ass for. She didn't seem to care what it was, cutting it away without hesitation and discarding it at his feet.

His pants and boots followed it, but Sonora didn't stop there, slicing away in cool-eyed silence until he was stark naked.

Judd tried to reign in his pride and breathe steady through the gag. If he let the frustration, the humiliation, get to him, it would just make his headache that much worse.

Nudity didn't bother him. Water was too scarce for showering to be a private affair, and scavs were generally too pragmatic to find a lack of clothes taboo.

This was different. This was being put on display, stared at by his captors while they figured out how much he was worth.

I'll break out. Pick the locks. They'll be sorry.

"Hm," Sonora said, and he flinched as she ran a finger across his abdomen. "Strong enough for the pits, pretty enough to be a pet. What do you think?"

Rika snorted. "I think it's the highest bidder's choice."

"So it is." She stepped back, kicking away the remains of Judd's clothing. "Go ahead and let it down. Can't put it up for auction half-dead."

Rika pulled back on the lever, and the chains went slack. Judd cried out as he hit the ground, pain shooting through his knees as they took most of the impact. It was becoming more and more difficult to want to get up, but he did, pushing himself to a sitting position with a groan.

Sonora had reappeared beside him, a canteen in her hand.

Water.

She was close enough that he could probably grab her. Get her weapon, use her as a bargaining chip. But he was too thirsty to try.

She reached behind his head, untying his gag and removing it from his bone-dry mouth.

Despite the burning urge to start cussing her out, Judd held back. Drink first. He reached for the canteen, but Sonora took a quick step back.

"Ah ah. You get what I give you or you get nothing," she chided. "And I only give what is earned."

Because of fucking course she did.

"Kneel," Sonora continued. "Hands on your knees, head bowed. Show me you can be obedient."

As debasing as it was to follow her commands, Judd wasn't about to give up the water. He moved to his knees, glaring up past sweat-damp hair.

"That snarl could use some work, but we have time," Sonora said. "Good boy."

All reason fled his body at her words, his head snapping up. "The fuck did you just call me?"

Behind him, Rika let out a short laugh. "Told ya it had a mouth."

"It just needs to learn some respect," Sonora said, looking vaguely annoyed.

"My name is Judd," he spat.

"You don't have a name anymore," she replied, not flinching as he lunged forward, the chains halting his movement before he got within a foot of her. The sudden stop, combined with his bound ankles, unbalanced him, and he landed gracelessly on his side.

He saw Rika reach for a whip, but Sonora held up a hand to stop her.

"It has enough scars as is. We don't need any new marks before auction."

"My name is—" He was cut off by a boot to the gut from Rika.

"Bruises will heal," she said, in response to the stern look from Sonora, who sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sure they will. You and Bo go ahead and get some sleep. I'll take it from here."

As Rika and her partner disappeared into one of the huts, Sonora moved to the mechanism Judd was attached to, adjusting the upper bar until it was level with the ground, then reeling in the chains until he had no room to move, arms once again restrained behind him. Once that was done, she left.

Judd let his head drop, drawing his knees up to his chest. Maybe he was stupid. Letting his anger get in the way of fucking survival.

She'd be back, wouldn't she? They'd gone through the trouble of taking him, they wouldn't just let him die and miss out on their payday.

He pulled at the cuffs. Just needed to wait until Sonora tried again. He'd choke down his pride and comply. Get her to drop her guard.

It hadn't been long before she returned, still holding the canteen. She knelt in front of him, much closer now that he was locked up tight.

"Good boys get water," she said, but held the canteen to his lips anyway. 

He drank so quickly he almost choked, feeling relief wash over him as the liquid ran down his throat. It wasn't until he'd drained the entire thing that he noticed the strange aftertaste.

Sickly sweet, like something on the verge of rotting.

He knew what was coming then, the kind of bullshit these people would resort to in order to keep him down. Sonora smiled at him as she capped the canteen.

"Bad boys get Compliance."

×××

tag list:

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

[adelitaflores]

Family Flores; complicada

Starter @santiagoxflores​

Where: Flores estate, Ashmore

When: Late afternoon

With the town wide curfew, most of the fabulous parties hosted at the Flores estate had been cancelled, or rescheduled for another time, a better time. Family dinners, however, barbeques, even brunches were a non-negotiable, and Adelita was grateful for the multitude of rooms and space that the estate held. Every day, there were at least two Flores family members wandering around the estate or spending the house. The home had always been open to kin. Adelita was the High Priestess of the coven and lived at the estate, but she did now own it. The estate belonged to her parents and would be passed onto their her, when they passed, or become incapacitated. Her parents ran the home as Adelita’s grandparents before them, and their grandparents before them. It was always run the same, home to all Flores kin. In a way, Adelita liked it, she liked the tradition of it, but at times... as a woman almost in her forties, it could be... difficult, living in such close quarters with family who could come and go as they please, while she always remained. 

Adelita’s mother had thrown together an impromptu barbeque party, and had given her daughter the kind of look that told Adelita attendance was mandatory. Upon arrival though, Adelita noted that not many family had been able to make it, and in fact it was a very intimate get together. 

The Priestess greeted her parents first, her mother was looming over the staff who were grilling their food, while her father sat by the pool with her uncles drinking and smoking. Then Adelita went to sit on a marble bench, overlooking the sprawling grounds, and was immediately served a glass of her favourite tequila by one of the staff. Her family had clustered into various small groups, and she watched them all socialise. They all appeared so care free and jovial, smiling and laughing. She didn’t feel excluded, only removed somehow. It occurred to the witch that it had been a while since she had indulged in some genuinely carefree, jovial social interactions. Did she even know how to?

A heavy sigh left Adelita’s lips, just as her mother decided to pass by her and she frowned at her daughter. 

“Mija, Que pasa?” The question was not asked in a way that invited Adelita to open up, instead it felt like a reminder to behave. Adelita sat up in response and smiled her perfectly at ease public smile. “Better!” was the response she got. 

“Bruja!” Adelita muttered through smiling, gritted teeth as her mother hurried past her to insist on helping the waiters carry their loads. The relationship with her mother was complicated, but it was loving. Or at least, it appeared so. Sometimes.

[ask-the-scary-mauri-pals]

Shenanigans with A.I Mauri[1/?]

[gutsygremlin]

I hate hate hate hate HATE that most of the time when I’m searching for info on autism the results always regard autistic children and are written by allistic adults for allistic parents who hate autistic children

Like I’m just going “hehe hey google do other autistic people sensory seek in carbonated drinks” and Google is like “DUMB STUPID LITTLE AUTISTIC BABIES REALLY LIKE DRINKING DUMB STUPID LITTLE AUTISTIC DRINKS LIKE SPRITE AND COKE BECAUSE THEY’RE DUMB STUPID LITTLE AUTISTIC BABIES!!!!!”

Best friend. The autistic kids you’re writing about so unkindly are going to become adults. And they’re going to be unhappy when they read that shit.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny can't sleep alone! Wonder Woman gets angry! Batman gets yoinked like a sad cat! Informational breakthroughs are made!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny is in a different medical room than usual.

There are five white boards.

His hands are shaking.

Danny doesn’t want to talk about what happened to him, but this isn’t talking. It’s just Danny, a bunch of white boards, Diana, a blonde doctor woman he doesn’t know, and that one kid’s stinky cat dad.

Danny draws.

He draws The Box. He doesn’t know how big it was in reality, but he remembers it being cramped, and dark, and hungry. He was always hungry. He draws a granola bar and uses a red marker to strike through it a half-dozen times to really emphasize how much nothing there was to work with.

It feels bad to put a marker-drawn Danny in the box.

Marker-Danny looks scared. He looks sad.

Danny hands that board to the blonde doctor without looking at it.

Danny draws a bunch of gloved hands with scalpels and forceps and beakers and tubes, but to be honest, he was so out of his mind by that point he doesn’t actually remember a lot of it. He remembers being tied down, and he remembers scream—

...But he mostly remembers the visuals of hands in a bright spectator spotlight above, a dozen gleaming instruments poking inside him to see what of him was ecto-based and what wasn’t.

They always acted like Danny didn’t know what he was made of. Danny’s wondered if it was true ever since, and sometimes the thought pulses in his skin like a bad bruise.

There’s almost no detail in that drawing. It's only hands. It's only tools. Danny hands the board off without looking, again.

Danny draws Operative O, with his stupid chin and his stupid suit and his stupid earpiece and his stupid gun. He tries to get all the details from memory, but honestly, who cares if the guy’s lapels look right or whatever. He wipes the G I W initials off the man’s breast pocket before anyone can see the detail, and keeps his little black boots and sunglasses, and…yeah. Pretty much all of their stupid agents look like that.

He adds on a number of skulls and angry faces to that drawing before handing the board over.

He draws the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle as he mostly remembers it—and Danny remembers turning on at least some of the equipment as he tried to flee the building, leaving the hard steel shell of the GAV as scuffed and miserable as he’d found it abandoned in that garage but bristling with weapons. His parents are—they’d been so good at cramming weapons into every possible nook and cranny. Whatever engineers the GIW had been able to hire to dismantle it had never had a chance. The thing had been locked onto Fenton DNA, and Fenton DNA alone.

Danny isn’t sure where the GAV is now, but he remembers turning the rockets on. Maybe he’d…maybe he’d landed on the moon…in the Fentonmobile?

He still isn’t super clear on how he’d gotten here, or what of the truck’s defenses he’d gotten up and running on his way out.

But he remembers a clear line of sight down the barrel of Dad’s newest—and last—blaster he’d ever made, the hands on it a stranger's.

Danny remembers his flesh and ecto sizzling as his face bubbled off.

…Danny remembers his first driving lessons in the GAV with Mom in the passenger seat, encouraging him to brake carefully at stop signs if there were police at the corner. They went out for burgers after each driving session, since she knew it would make him happy to have something different for dinner. Danny remembers all the road trips they’d gone on to go visit Aunt Alicia, half-camping in the woods on her property while Dad taught Jazz and Danny how to fish.

He hands off the whiteboard, but he already knows what he wants to use the last one for.

Mom and Dad and Jazz stand around the intact GAV and smile, frozen in a dry-erase marker wave to a Danny that isn’t there.

Danny’s here now. In a chair. In space.

…With strangers.

When Danny doesn’t immediately offer the board to the blonde doctor like she expects, she only takes a picture of it for further discussion.

Danny is very, very careful not to smudge any of his family's faces or their suits or Jazz's dark sweater as Diana wheels him back to his cot in the medical wing.

He misses them.

He doesn’t know if they’re capable of missing him, wherever they are, but he misses them.

[neurantics-theythem]

Depression is so fun bc you’ll have like 20% motivation and energy to do something after work, but then ofc you don’t do anything bc you’re 80% depressed, but then you feel guilty bc theoretically you could have done something with the 20% energy, and bc of what we learn in society, you therefore should have done something. So then you lay there feeling the 80% depressed that you already were but the 20% motivation and energy turns into guilt for not doing anything. And then if you math, that’s 100% depressed.

[nando161mando]

[uncanny-tranny]

I truly hope that the younger generation isn't being told that when they are being teased or bullied it's because their tormenter secretly likes them.

Somebody liking you doesn't mean they should smack you, pull your hair, tease you, berate you, call you names, make fun of your appearance, make fun of your cultural background or immigration status, or anything else. When you talk about these things, you deserve to be taken seriously. Being written off is a dangerous thing, especially if you are being bullied.

Bullying is not love or admiration.

[pumpkinspicedmochi]

Sometimes when it comes to growing up autistic it feels like you either get the "autism mom" parent or the "my child is fine , they aren't autistic" parent who wants to just force you to fit into a square hole when you're not even a shape

special mention for the "my child is autistic but only because I decided my kid is a savant(?) and I only accept the good traits "

my mom is that one and the "my child is fine" unfortunately

most anything else she sees is categorized as "attitude problem" that you better get in control of (although you obviously can't) or just something that you generally can just stop if she tells you to..

[ravenzeppeli]

Stained Red Prequel - Before The Pain |Yandere DIO x Reader Fluff|

Warning: strong language, threats. MA.

      Your red high heels clicked against the hardwood floor gently as you carried two empty wine glasses in one hand, the other hand gripping a wine bottle. You wore a tiny little black dress, the dress hugging all of your curves perfectly.

       You entered Dio's room without knocking - it was now the room that the two of you shared together. "Master?" You called out, closing the door behind you. You sat the wine down next to his bed. It was dark in the room. Only a faint light glowed next to the bed from the single white candle. "Are you in here?"

      You let a gasp escape your lips as you felt cool hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into the familiar large form of your lover.

      "You've kept me waiting for a long time, and that greatly displeases me," his velvet voice called out as he dropped his lips to your ear. "That's very naughty of you, and I also saw that secret conversation you had with dear old Hol Horse. Asking about who the Joestars are." He squeezed your hips tighter.

       You let a low gasp escape your lips, shocked that he found out. Dio never informed you of much. He liked to keep you as clueless as possible in case you had some moral compass. He didn't want to lead you away from his arms. Despite the power he had, he still wanted to keep your feelings towards him true.

      "I keep having to be upset with you, and I don't want to keep getting upset with you. I've been too lenient with you; I suppose that this is all my fault." He let his arms drop from your waist, but he kept his body pressed up against you. You could feel his dark yellow irises on you as his hot breath tickled your ear lightly. "What do you want me to tell you?"

      "Who... who are the Joestars? Where did you get that scar on your neck?" You asked him, trembling softly as you waited for a reply. You hoped not to upset him, for him to keep calm.

      Dio spun you around, gently pushing you to sit on the edge of his bed. "How can I trust you not to leave me? What if the truth casts your love away from me?" He asked, standing in front of you as he placed his palm on top of your head, carefully rubbing your head. "I'll never let you leave me."

      "I know that you are an evil guy, but I don't mind. I love you, and my feelings are true. Until the end, I am by your side," you told him. Though deep down you were a little uncertain but you pushed that feeling aside, casting it away.

      "I wouldn't call it evil, just misunderstood." He removed his hand, sitting next to you as he wrapped his strong arm around you. "I am about to tell you a very long story, buckle up."

                              🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

        "Do you still love me?" Questioned Dio as he stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with you. He had told you everything from start to finish without leaving a single detail out.

      You were honestly both shocked and terrified, but you shook that feeling away. You loved him, and he loved you - he would protect you from all harm, and you should be thankful. Right? "Yes, I still love you. Thank you for telling me everything."

       "Now that all of this is over, I do believe that you are due for a punishment. You went behind my back, and worst of all, you spoke to Hol Horse. I'm upset," he spoke softly as he stood up. "But I don't know how I should punish you.. do you have any ideas?"

"I don't want to be punished, I was simply just curious and too afraid to personally ask you." You hardly asked Dio anything personal, always being much too terrified to ever ask him anything.

       He shrugged his massive bare shoulders, walking over to you as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, pressing his smooth lips against yours. As he pulled away, he smirked down at you. "I never thought that I- Dio would have such a soft spot for a mere human, but here you are, proving me wrong for the first time in my 122 years of existence."

You let a gentle blush appear on your cheeks as you looked into his cat-like gold eyes. His smirk shifted into a soft smile as he pulled away from you, reaching in his black pants pocket as he kept eye contact with you. He pulled out a shiny diamond ring, holding it up to you. "Y/N.. be my fiancé. When I defeat the Joestars, we will then marry, and on our wedding night, I will turn you into a vampire."

      "Okay," you whispered, tears filling your eyes as he slipped the ring delicately on your finger. This was.. it was so beautiful. The fact that he planned to turn you into a vampire the first night that you lay husband and wife slipped your mind as you stared at the ring with soft eyes, clearly touched that he proposed to you.

       This was a rare moment when you got to see the more softer side of Dio Brando, the side that he so desperately tried to hide as if he was ashamed of loving someone other than himself. "You are my fiancé now.. you don't have to call me master anymore. You can just call me any nickname you can think of."

      "Kitten," you quickly spoke, a smile appearing on your lips as you giggled lightly. You haven't laughed in so long.. you don't remember the last time that you actually laughed at something.

       Dio rolled his golden eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Do I look like a kitten to you? If anything, you are the kitten," he spoke softly, wrapping his massive arms around you, pulling you into his freezing bare chest. "Just.. I'll ask you again in 24 hours. How about we drink some wine and celebrate our engagement a little? I can run us a hot bath." He combed his sharp nails gently through your soft hair, chin resting on that top of your head.

       "That sounds good," you softly replied back, burying your head in his cool chest as you wrapped your arms around him. "My love."

      "I like that.. you may call me that in private," he whispered in your ear, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. "Let's get in that bath.. I can wash your hair for you."

     You blushed fiercely as a giggle yet again escaped your lips. "That sounds perfect." You loved him like this.. loved him when he wasn't so sadistic towards you. Was he changing into a different person right before you very eyes? You truly didn't know, but over time, you hoped to know the truth.. for now, you were just simply just going to enjoy this precious night, pushing every worry that you had to the side.

[whumpflash]

cw: noncon drugging, adult language, dehumanization

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

Judd's world felt drowned and numbed, limbs heavy, vision lagging as he tried to look around, tried to regain his bearings. Remembering where he was, remembering he was in the presence of enemies, was an ongoing battle. Whatever Sonora had drugged him with was fucking strong.

Its pull on his mind was the worst part of all; even his emotions were dulled. He couldn't dredge up anger, fear, or even shame, at least not enough to put up any kind of fight. And every time his mind began to sharpen, Sonora was back with another sickly sweet canteen, and he couldn't help but drink.

He was uncertain how much time had passed since his initial capture. The drug led to a lot of sleeping, but even if he were able to track how much time he spent unconscious, he doubted he'd be able to remember that information for very long in this state.

One day though, Judd knew something was different. A gut feeling the drug couldn't quite dampen. The feeling was confirmed when Sonora knelt beside him, fastening something around his throat before unchaining his wrists.

A collar, he realized. Attached to a short length of chain, which Sonora tugged on, pulling him onto unsteady feet.

I could fight her, he thought, but the idea was distant, unreachable. My hands are free. I could fight her. I could run.

But he didn't. He couldn't. 

Sonora led him to a woven mat, guided him to his knees, and looped the chain around a nearby pole.

"Good boy," she said, patting his head.

He wanted to rip her arm off, but he couldn't move.

"We're gonna go on a nice little trip, and you're going to go to a nice new home," Sonora continued. Through half-lidded eyes he saw her grab a bucket, pull a waterlogged rag from it.

As she brought it to his back, scrubbed with small, gentle circles, he wanted to run, fight, even flinch away, but he couldn't fucking move.

Somewhere else, he heard Rika's voice.

"Getting it all prettied up?"

"Doing my best," Sonora replied, running the rag along his ribs.

"Doubt it'll behave for auction."

"Not an issue if it's drugged out of its mind," Sonora muttered, dunking the cloth back into the bucket and swirling it in the water. 

"What'll the buyers think of that?" Rika said.

"Who knows? Maybe they'll want to keep it that way."

The idea of that—of never returning to clarity, never regaining control of his own body—sent a feeling of horror crashing over Judd. Despite the heat, he could feel himself shiver, and couldn't make it stop. 

"Aww, it's shaking."

"Fuck, I love Compliance."

× × ×

Before beginning the journey, Sonora made sure to give him another dose, strong enough that it made his vision waver, made it almost impossible to think.

He didn't remember much of the ride there, his body once again slung across the back of a landspeeder. A blur of dust and sky for what felt like hours but might've been minutes, and when they at last stopped, they were at the edge of what looked like a camp.

Of course by now, Judd knew better.

Tents and canopies sprung out of the cracked ground, dozens upon dozens of people wandering beneath them. The space under some awnings held speeder parts, or weapons, or everyday tools. Innocent enough.

But even in his dazed state, Judd could pick out the others like him, some frightened, some angry, some defeated; all being led around in chains.

"Fuck…" he whispered, as Sonora tugged on the length of chain that connected to his collar. She cast a glance back at him.

"Rika? Give him another dose."

The other woman moved to do so. This time, Judd did try to fight it, but in the end it was no use, the sickly sweet liquid washing down his throat anyway.

He more stumbled than walked as Sonora pulled him into the crowd, head hung low, senses made leaden by the Compliance.

In the center of the shaded area was a small wooden stage, empty for now. Behind it stood several thick wooden posts. Sonora pushed him to his knees beside one, wrapping the chain around it.

"Alright, hard part's done." She ruffled his hair. He couldn't even find the willpower to glare up at her.

"Let's see how much we can make off of you."

×××

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles

[sprinkleofquirk]

Rather than explain that I cannot have Asperger’s syndrome because that hasn’t been included in the DSM since 2013 since Hans Asperger was, among other things, a fucking Nazi, I used my ✨healthy coping mechanisms✨ (kinda) and made these 🙃

And I say ‘kinda’ because I don’t… exactly… remember? Making them? They just kinda… ✨appeared✨ and a few hours had passed

[yellow-dress-basil]

Having trouble falling asleep tonight. The AuDHD plus the chronic pain.

I’m just thinking about why I’m bothering to get my Special Ed degree if I know I’ll never be able to hold down a job like that. Let alone finish school. I can’t do it. I’m so anxious in any job because I have to do social things. And because I have to do physical things that hurt me.

And I feel weak for even having those extra needs and it just feels like shit.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

A Misunderstood Man • Sleep Of The Good • Gypsy Bundle • Had To Be • When You Thought Of Me • Dream Tomorrow • I Do Not Love You Isabella (Heathcliff's Wedding Song) • Choosing When It's Too Late • Marked With Death • Be With Me Always

Youtube

[be-side-my-self]

@durorholmes

Travis just keeping back and staying quiet like the obedient dog

Very true. Because...

They trained him well…

Which is why it's so much more impressive that he does not shoot Laura when they tell him to do so:

And it hurts him to do that:

Well trained indeed... and still he does not shoot her. (It also suggests that he has silver bullets in his pistol?)

We all know why most fanfictions with Travis as an important part are tagged with "former child abuse".

Anyway here is the reaction of Travis if you shoot Constance:

One thing I constantly think about is the fact that Travis has to know that Laura is infected because the last time he saw her she was missing an eye...

And they meet again and Laura has two:

I would have loved to see any real reaction about that from Travis but I guess that is just another thing the developers didn't get around to add.

Because the inner monologue had to be something like "Why the fuck is Laura here? Oh shit, she is bitten and she is in our house and she is the one who killed Kaylee and mom knows but they don't know she has been bitten and when will she change? What the fuck am I going to do? Oh shit..."

That would explain why Travis did not react any more than he did when Laura gets shot, because he knows she might get up again?