#And it's in such bad condition

[wearethekingdom]

My current highlighted parts of Grasshopper Jungle

With no explanation and some chapters missing because I had no highlighter for a bit

"Robby and I were gods of the concrete rivers, and history does prove to us that wherever boys ride bicycles, paved roadways ribbon along afterwards like intestinal tapeworms"

"Sat with forearms resting across our knees while we propped our feet on our boards and rocked them back and forth like we floated over invisible soothing waves" - I've never met a skater that hasn't done this

""Nobody's going to know what that means," I said.

"I should have used lowercase."

"Lowercase does use less blood. And a smaller font. Everyone knows that."

"Maybe you should punch me again.""

"I wondered if it made me homosexual to even think about having a threesome with Robby and Shann. And I hated knowing that it would be easier for me to ask Robby to do it than to ask my own girlfriend."

""Can I kiss you, Austin?"

The air suddenly become unbreathably thin. I thought about it. I shook my head

"That would be too weird."

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

We sat there, smoking. Everything was shitty and confusing. Robby felt terrible.

I said, "I guess I would kiss you, Robby"

"Don't feel like you have to."

"I don't feel that way.""

"The shop had this constant, perfumed odor of sorrow, death, abandonment, condoms, and Bible verses; that was like nothing I'd ever smelled anywhere else."

""Don't be such a baby," I said "you wanted to come down here. I know where I'm going."

Robby started to let go of my hand

"It's okay," I said. I pulled Robby along by the hand like a little kid."

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[uncanny-tranny]

Not to sound like a person who actually cares about children, but it's so alarming that there's this tendency and trend of not telling kids about their medical conditions that are in their charts.

I'm finding out as an adult that they (though it's not documented who) diagnosed me with a life-long, chronic condition without telling me when I was a teenager. I found out recently when I got curious about my medical charts, and otherwise, I would not have known what's wrong with me. I've been left with more questions than answers, and I feel like a private investigator investigating my own damn health and life.

Is this medical malpractice? Yes. However, I think it also speaks to a broader point of how children are seen to not be entitled to their own lives in any capacity, to the point where they are (intentionally or not) made ignorant about things that are or will affect them.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

i think everyone who's ever had migraines should be financially compensated forever btw

[saccharin-simper]

Whumpee had been so quiet, so pliant, so easy to deal with for the first few months after their rescue. They let Caretaker tend to their wounds and hold their hand without a fuss, they ate and drank whenever they were told to, they answered every question they were asked.

Then, suddenly and for reasons unknown to Caretaker, they were acting the exact opposite. Suddenly they were refusing to allow Caretaker to touch them, screaming, crying-- begging to be left alone, to not be harmed. They stopped cooperating, fighting Caretaker tooth and nail on every little thing.

Used to the easiness from before, it doesn't take long for Caretaker to become exasperated-- and finally, they snap, shouting at Whumpee for being so difficult.

Whumpee freezes on themselves instantly-- instantly lowers their head, instantly apologizes in a feeble, pliant voice, instantly reverts back to the way they were before.

Caretaker soon realizes that Whumpee wasn't fighting to be difficult, but fighting because they could. In those first months, Caretaker had become the first person Whumpee trusted to listen to them-- to actually care if they didn't want something.

Whumpee only nods along with that pliant expression when Caretaker tries to apologize, letting Caretaker hold their hand.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 3/?

_______________________________

Jazz was vaguely aware that Blaster was studying his reaction – or waiting to see if he would give into impulse. But Jazz's excitement had crashed to a puddle of nerves, a bunch of unidentifiable nerves, and he felt anchored to the spot. "Did you find out anything new about – him?" He asked, unsure of… far too much. "Like is there anything I should know?"

"The whole team still has a lot to discuss about," Blaster hesitated, his tone twisting into distaste just before the pause. Yet, relented to whatever it was that was bothering him and continued calmly, "about… him. There isn't anything I have to share, sorry."

He knew the apology was insincere, a show, just another part of the performance. They were friendly, but not friends.

Blaster had always been the one that told him more about what was going on around them than most ever had his whole life. He actively tries to get closer to him more than any past caretaker has and listens to Jazz. A flaw rather than a improvement for their first few years together as Jazz was prone to lying. Still was, but he do so less often and was more withholding the truth with Blaster. But Jazz couldn't quite bring himself to honestly trust him. He did, but not really. Because Blaster was still staff.

And the staff were currently hiding something, something they either didn't want Jazz to know or something they thought he wouldn't understand, so it was pointless. Jazz looked up at him with a – fake and flawless from practice – understanding smile, with the next line in the script. "It's okay."

Blaster smiled back, one that was genuine, than asked, "you calmed down enough for a check up? I got to keep an eye on your blood pressure."

Rather than answer with words, Jazz turned away from the gate and headed for the slope on the pier.

—

He spent the next two hours before dinner between quickly checking the clock and floating in front of the gate. The other orca hadn't even moved, and if not for the clear sound of steady breaths, Jazz would have probably started to freaking-out – okay, he was already freaking-out, but it was back on how he was going to talk with the wild mer. Or, heck, where to start on what to say.

The last thing Blaster said; before finally going home after a busy fourteen hour day, was that there was no need to worry if the wild mer slept until tomorrow. His wounds would recover faster if he didn't move, if anything it was a good thing. For now, went unsaid.

Thus, dinner came and went. Still asleep.

Day staff signed off and night staff came by to sneak a peek. He could pickup on them with his sonar coming by the bay window, but each time voiced disappointed that they couldn't see anything due to the hammock's position. Still asleep.

Dusk came and Jazz struggled to stay awake, exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Still asleep.

—

A wobbling keen caused Jazz to flinch and peek one eye open. It was probably the middle of the night with how dark it still was. As he blinked awake and stretched, his tired brain suddenly realized it understood that sound, that word – {where?}

Jazz quickly rolled over and looked towards the wounded mer. Not quite able to see, but was getting enough of an image of movement with his sonar. Combined with the sounds of shifting fabric and soft rattle of metal supports, Jazz could tell he was awake.

A weak questioning call followed along with a faint splash.

Ah, right, uh–! Jazz panicked for a moment, he didn't want him to become frightened and reopen his wounds, or think they were somewhere all alone. Diving down to an old memory and remembering the warmth, Jazz hoped he could convey his words with comfort, {it's okay… you're safe.}

He didn't get a vocal response, but they became still and within a few minutes, Jazz heard the soft steady breaths once more. He had fallen back to sleep and Jazz couldn't help but smile a little. It wasn't long before he also drifted back off as well.

—

Prowl groaned as he moved, he ached all over, but was given some pretty nasty tugs of sharp pain to remind him of just how bad it was. As he opened his eyes, though still groggy, he took a quick note of the situation as he looked about.

The space. Dim lighting, white walls, an air pocket room with a shallow pool, two doors; one in the water, one on an above-surface area – unusual. Sonar was giving almost unreadable imaging and with a limited range due to other sources of interference – there was a lot of noise to sort out. But he was getting what looked like corridors on one side, large open space on the other. Overall, a simple structure.

His position. A hammock – a bit too snug, unable to rollover, but acceptable comfort.

Injuries. Multiple points of laceration on his arms, flank and tail; claws from other merfolk. Deep punctures along his left side; teeth of a leviathan. Of both arms, the left has more damage and is pinned in a solid net-like cast; potential fracture. Cuts are held shut by a bright coloured, mesh-like covering that clings tightly to his skin by an adhesive, rough to the touch, but not uncomfortable or irritating – likely breathable to reduce infection during the healing process.

Additionally, he noticed in his inspection that his claws had been filed down to his fingers. Irritating, but not unexpected given the extreme caution most give to someone like himself. But in all, this was not first-aid, the treatment is professional.

Conclusion: local clinic.

Prowl gave a breath of relief and relaxed. Someone must have found him adrift after the skirmish and rushed him to a near by town or village. As everything was far to modest to be a big city hospital.

Suddenly, he sensed movement that went over him swiftly and looked up. But whatever it was was gone. Prowl was only picking up empty space above the light-blue ceiling. Then another zipped by. A bird?

Prowl felt everything slow to a stop as cold dread sunk into his bones. That wasn't a ceiling.

That was the morning sky.

_______________________________

I hope I have the right understanding of how advanced the merfolks civilization is... otherwise this is really awkward. >_>; I also wanted to give Jazz at least one human that is trying to make things better for him and be on his side (he's secretly providing inside information to mer activists and trustworthy researchers). Blaster worked hard to gain the position he has to be Jazz's lead caretaker, but fighting the system and working with in it (or risk being replaced by a yes-man) is a frustrating balancing game.

Sorry this one is so short. The next part is going to be really long as Prowl and Jazz get finally meet! I hope it is worth the wait. QuQ

Thank you for the hug, I return the hug!♡♡♡

-GLC

Oohoh my god oh my

The waitinggggggggggggg. Jazz is slowly going insane and so am I *dies*

Upd: I linked all the parts written by GLC together>:D

Link to the previous part

Next

Also the fact that Blaster is actually gives the information away to those activists??? MUAH. SO GREAT. This would also be a pretty solid reason for why Jazz and Prowl wouldn't get separated after the uh. Haha. The violent incident. Imagine if Blaster immediately got the security tapes and uploaded them somewhere? Kinda like it was with Black fish documentary uncovering the murders done by captive orcas?

Point is. People would see that "oh no those two poor mers defend each other so much they turn violent when separated" and pressure the Aquarium to keep them together. Maybe I sound stupid here but it does make sense in my head. It's really nice for Jazz to have someone on his side is what I'm saying. I love that:>

Separately. The tiny interaction they have is so soft and gentle I'm gonna melt. The little {you're safe}?? AUGH

I can't wait for them to interact IM DOING THE JAZZ ARC IN REAL TIME BASICALLY JUST FREAKING OUT OVER THE FUTURE COVERSATION AHAHDKMGMHMFNFMGMF

Also

Prowl: That's a weird looking underwater facility....

A bird: flies

Prowl:

[benzobucky]

you NEED to see my vision

[bougiebutchbinch]

Intersectionality, disability, and being 'one of the good ones'

I am 'one of the good ones'.

I have been told this, verbatim, by various healthcare professionals.

This is because I have a severe manifestation of my disease - worse than 90% of what my specialist sees - but to their eyes, unlike most in the same bracket, I am driven to maintain as much mobility as possible.

I do the work I need to in order to remain able to work, even at a greatly reduced capacity (even if this constant effort towards condition management means making lots of sacrifices in my social and personal life). This makes me a 'good disabled person'.

This entire concept is fascinating to me - not least for the conflation of 'good' and 'has worth within a capitalist society'. It's also hugely damaging to other disabled people.

First off: I'm privileged in that one of my diseases at least, CAN have symptoms mitigated by medication, (ridiculous amounts of) physio, and surgery, even if it is still degenerative and the overall problem remains. A lot of folks have diseases that, whether due to the intractable processes involved, or medical neglect and lack of research, have no treatment whatsoever.

I'm privileged because I genuinely love my job. There are problems, don't get me wrong, but it's on its way to being a decent-paying, well-respected career that I can do from a wheelchair. People who work my job are typically treated well by society. There are strong protections in place to defend my rights as a disabled person, and though managers absolutely try to cut corners, those legal protections are still there. I find fulfilment in this work, to the point I would still do it in a perfect post-capitalist society without monetary gain. Although many people are ableist to me on a day-to-day basis, on the whole, people in this sector are somewhat educated about patient rights and disability advocation.

Why would I have any motivation to maintain my ability to work, if I was paid a poverty wage and treated like dirt for what I did for a living, on top of facing structural and interpersonal ableism?

I'm privileged because I have a loving family who help me with ADLs. While we still have our issues, they never make me feel 'lesser' for being disabled. While we used to be working class, we got very lucky and now live a comfortable middle class life, which means I have a stable home in a country with universal healthcare, that I am not in immediate danger of losing. We live together, so I receive care from them, and we get along excellently. They support me, and help me to achieve my goals.

How could I do the ridiculous amounts of extra physio and symptom management work I need to do if I didn't have people who were happy to help me cook, clean, and care for myself? How could I keep track of my medication and doctors appointments if I didn't have people who understand my memory problems and help me? How could I have the energy to work on controlling my condition - as much as it can be controlled - if I was constantly worrying about making rent or where my next meal was going to come from?

And finally, my mental health is in a genuinely good place! I do suffer from some long-term mental health problems, but they're managed and treatable, and I haven't had a severe episode in years.

How could I focus on looking after my body if my mind was constantly under attack from itself?

It's like... yeah, I've worked extremely hard to get where I am, and achieved rare results. I'm glad that's acknowledged by my healthcare team. But every day I am reminded that I would never have made it this far, had circumstances been different. That people across the world put in the exact same effort as me, and receive none of the results or the praise.

Caling me 'one of the good ones' isn't a compliment. It's a backhanded put-down to other, more vulnerable members of the disabled community. I think those of us who are classed as 'The Virtuous And Hardworking Disabled' do need to be conscientious of this. We should challenge this attitude where we can, even if we have diseases or manifestations that may be classed as 'more severe' than others.

[0800-p1llowhump3r]

need to kiss your cock through your underwear until there's a noticeable wet patch from my drool. let me rub my face against your bulge as I inhale your scent. hold my lips open and push your covered crotch back into my hot, wet mouth... please.

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[fellowfights]

Y'all non-disabled folk are pissing me off. Actually mouthwashing fans. Someone does not DESERVE disability and disability isn't "karma" or "justice".

[nb-hypno-wh0r3]

I neeeeed to be hypnotized I actually need to be put in front of a spiral and told to drop by someone pretty while my brains leak out of me and they put cute little triggers in me that make me horny and make me drop for them and make me get on my knees with my mouth open and clicker train me and and and

[bacchuschucklefuck]

space sweepers but they're delivery people and are at no point on screen through the entire movie

[veetowervaporwave]

I love it when a shot is composed in a way that it looks as if Vox has hearts floating above his head when he's looking at Val.

It's as if the universe is trying to tell us something.

[arcane-fox]

I fear I will not recover from this man.