#developmental tag

[punkitypunker]

CM Punk teaching a young Cody Rhodes the joys of revenge (hitting his former tag team partner Shawn Spears with a strap)

[divorcedes]

circular narratives, passing the gauntlet, and boy kings // inspired by @mnyd 's tags on @drivestraight 's post

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on tumblr lot more people know about it which great! that improve life of all AAC users. but pretty much with anything disability/developmental disability space on social media (which need certain amount of cognitive/intellectual & language abilities be on even if have support), good majority you see be teen & adult people who already literate learn language via speech n write *first* n then *independently* learn AAC base on it *later*.

especially symbol based AAC, but all AAC, is new system n hard n take long time learn even when you literate & not moderately severely cognitively disabled. but also, “literate teen/adult independent learn AAC” not at all full face of AAC user community.

as in like. experience of theirs. not universal. independently motivated & able to look up different AAC options different AAC apps, compare n contrast. download app n immediately know how to use, or able figure out by self. first time use app n may be clunky n slow, but make sentence on first try. need learn AAC, but most of that learning is for where words are (if button based), how exist as AAC user in public with confidence, etc. those all valid but not true for everyone who need AAC, especially not developmentally disabled children (& some adults) with complex communication needs.

most developmentally disabled children (n some adults) w complex communication needs who need AAC, can’t just hand them tablet with symbol based AAC app or text to speech AAC app n then wait for magic. many of them developmentally delayed in way, not taught in way that fit them (e.g. gestalt language processors), n their language abilities behind peers, so they can’t read, can’t spell, can’t grammar, etc.

some of them need learn where word is not by read word, sometimes not even by understand symbol, instead is by other people press button n hear sound n associate that with meaning n location on AAC n symbol associate with it. in other words, they learning language alongside AAC.

for some their learn process look like, learn how use AAC say one word. n then much later, try make two word message, “want food” “go school.” “two word message” incredibly common goal for many these developmentally disabled children, teens, n even adults, that is something rare n truly extraordinary for that person that need be celebrated.

for others it look like learn by phrase (gestalt), then slowly break it down into smaller phrase n chunks n finally single words.

many of them babble (click random/seemingly random buttons on high tech device, stim with it, etc). but ultimately, won’t be able learn all by self. need be taught, see you accidentally spill water n crying, maybe you “feel” “sad”, n when that happen you “need” “help” from adult. need learn AAC by adults around them constantly model with it, constantly use it in conversation, show them how use. because they learning language along side it.

but also some of them don’t know what this thing in front of them (AAC… device, low tech boards or picture cards, etc) is. don’t know what communication is or you should do that. don’t know people exist who you should communicate to & with. heard many parents n SLP say they try model all time, try all kind of stuff, but child just not seem interested in it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t use it.

people who use AAC, not all them struggle with only speech. some them struggle with language, with intellectual/cognitive. some of them very developmentally delayed.

n some people, too disabled learn or use AAC. yeah, they exist.

for people who cannot use / cannot only use speech to be understood, AAC can be life changing. but is so much more complex thing. AAC still not as widely used n accepted n properly taught n supported as should, some parents n professionals n schools still many pushback n refuse. but sometimes answer to “have you tried AAC for them” is “yes, but they need long time n lots help to learn n we not very far yet even though spent long time on it” or “yes, but they simply not show interest even after constant model” or “god, wish can, but insurance only cover if show some amount of communication competence n ability use AAC, while only give 1 month trial, which simply not enough time” (wide spread thing that happen) or “yes. many types. it not work.”

for many AAC users & AAC user-to-be, it not as simple as “be handed AAC n check back in while they figure out by self”

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

why do so many non-chronically ill people not comprehend that chronically ill means exactly what it says!! an illness that is constant, continuing for a long time, always present.

so yes that does mean it is always affecting me, yes i am still sick/feel bad, yes i am sick/feel bad all the time

[theaceace]

Hob is woken, not by the shrill cacophony of his alarm or the sunlight hitting his face where they'd forgotten to pull the curtains last night, or even the warmth of Morpheus' hands and mouth, but by the sudden dip in the mattress as another person flops onto the bed with them.

Several lifetimes' worth of instincts see him jolting awake in an instant, heart racing and sweat already beading on his back and brow. Hob may not be able to die, but he's been ambushed in his sleep more than enough times to be getting on with, ta very much, and he's not keen to do it again. Suddenly he's twenty-five, and exhausted after days of marching on Troyes, feet sore and heart sorer, waiting on a battle that never came. He's twenty-eight, and the knife that flashes in the darkness misses his throat only because Herry has ears like a bat and enough blind-foolish loyalty to leap on their attacker's back. He's seventy-three, and lying barely-conscious among the dead that need burying or burning, and he knows that he needs to rouse himself even with the arrow still in his chest, or he'll be burnt or buried with them. He's two-hundred and sixty-four, and they've come to the home he'd made for his family, to drag him from the bed he had shared with his wife some thirty years before, and haul him away as a witch.

He's gripped now by the same fear, and it has him up and moving, one hand fumbling at the bedside table for anything with enough heft to dent a skull before he realises that none of his attackers have ever smelt like peaches.

Beside him, Morpheus shifts just enough to free his face from the clutches of his pillow.

“That key was given to you for use in emergencies, my sibling,” he says, voice thick with sleep and the cotton pillowcase.

Desire stretches luxuriously between them and smiles, fox-sharp, at Morpheus. They roll their head to look at him – beneath the perfume and sweat and wet pavement smell of them, Hob catches a sour waft of alcohol.

“Oh but my dear brother, this is an emergency,” they say, and – look, Hob has been drunk enough to recognise the exquisitely deliberate care at the edges of their words. He huffs a little, pushes himself up so that he can slap a hand on the bedside lamp and blink furiously against the sudden light. It takes a few seconds for his vision to clear, and he rubs his hands over his face in a vain effort to convince himself that this is some new nightmare that Daniel is testing out, before he gives in to the inevitable and turns to examine their guest.

"And what could possibly be so pressing at –" Morpheus snatches Desire's wrist up to stare blearily at their watch "– two thirty-seven in the morning? That could not be expressed in a phone call or wait until a reasonable hour?"

"Do you know, brother mine, how many partners I found to dance with? Whose desire for me, once so integral as to be a given, I had to simply guess at? To read in the curve of a smile or the enticing lull of a question? I didn't know them, not a one, and can you guess, sweet Dream, how many of them took me to their beds?"

And Hob has heard quite enough of that. He stretches and tosses back the sheets, while Morpheus shoots him a filthy glower that softens immediately into a plea for respite with his sole visible eye. Desire either doesn't notice this silent communication, or doesn't care.

“None!” They crow gleefully, clasping their hands, and Morpheus scowls as he's jostled in place.

It's not that Hob wants to leave him to fend for himself against his sibling, only that he doesn’t fancy being in the firing line when Morpheus inevitably snaps and thumps Desire with a pillow.

Doing an admirable job of ignoring Morpheus' wounded expression, Hob groans and lurches himself in the vague direction of the kitchen. Might as well put the kettle on for this.

"Jasmine or apple tea, love?" He calls. No sense having any caffeine now. If they're lucky, Desire will wear themself out quickly and they'll be able to go back to sleep before the alarm goes off.

"Apple, if you would," Morpheus replies.

"Ooh, I'll have jasmine if you're making."

"Didn't ask you!" Hob shouts back, already adding a spoon of sugar to the third mug he'd fetched down for them. 

“Oh, so forceful! You know, if you ever get tired of my stick-in-the-mud brother here…” Desire trails off meaningfully, and Hob snorts, smiling a little to himself. They know full well it's not going to happen, however much or little they remember about his desires, and even if he were – impossibly – to change his mind about Morpheus, they'd get bored of him soon enough. 

He sets all three mugs on a tray, and grabs a pack of chocolate digestives while he's at it. Morpheus would never admit to being fond of them, but he doesn't need to. Hob's watched him absent-mindedly devour most of a packet while he pecks one-handed at the keyboard. Besides, Desire could probably do with something to line their stomach. 

“Is being human always this delightfully contradictory? So baffling and solid and… damp?” Desire asks, lifting their head just enough to peer at Hob as he re-enters the room. It's a moot question, of course. They've been human long enough now to know that the answer is, largely, yes. 

“Often. But do you know, my sibling, the very best part of being human?” Desire turns lazily to look at Morpheus, smiling wide. Their lipstick today is dark purple, and smudged at the corners of their mouth. 

“Mm, do tell. You know how much I crave your… wisdom,” they say, rolling the words indulgently over their tongue. Hob sighs and nudges Morpheus’ book to one side so he can set the tray down on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“It is that it is no longer against the Old Laws for me to do this,” Morpheus says, planting one foot against their side and shoving hard enough that they topple off the bed with an outraged squawk and undignified thump. There's a blessed moment of stillness, the same kind of breathless anticipation that Hob remembers from the battlefield, before the charge and the mud and the pain. Then they pop back up over the side of the bed with a cry and launch themself at Morpheus. He'd be more worried if he couldn’t hear the laughter in their voice, nor see how their outstretched hands target Morpheus’ ribs and armpits, rather than his eyes.

Hob's sisters have been dead for centuries now, but he remembers this well enough.  Maybe if the Endless had ever been anything like children, they might have gotten all of the murderous posturing out of the way before they grew up enough for it to be a problem, he muses. Still. Better late than never.

He takes a sip of his own tea and grabs a biscuit. Lord knows he won't get a look in once Morpheus has finished trying to jam his elbow into Desire's stomach and realises they're there.

“It was never against the Old Laws for you to be a bastard, which is lucky because you always were one!” Desire gasps, writhing away from Morpheus’ pointy limbs. Hob's been at the receiving end of those elbows before, and even when Morpheus is being gentle, they're decently sharp. He wonders idly if either of them'll tire of this before their tea goes cold, and decides not to intervene either way. Serve them both right if they have to drink cold tea.

“You tried to kill me!”

“Don't tell me you're still hung up on that?”

“I am, because you tried to kill me!”

“Well it's not like it worked!”

Not really the point, Hob reckons, but then again he's had plenty of mates that have tried to kill him. 

“More by good fortune than good judgment,” Morpheus hisses.

“Oh, so you admit to your poor judgment?”

Hob snorts, and the wounded look Morpheus swings towards him would fell a lesser man. Hob takes another biscuit.

“Ha!” Desire takes advantage of his momentary distraction to lock their arms around his shoulders and blow a loud raspberry against his cheek. Hob doesn’t think he's entirely successful in hiding his smile. Morpheus doesn't even try to hide his look of disgust. 

Well, he had to learn the downsides of being an older brother at some point, Hob supposes. 

Judging that the worst of the scrapping is over, he perches on the edge of the bed and pats Morpheus’ flank idly. Desire, loose-limbed with alcohol and triumph, flops over him to reach for their tea. Morpheus magnanimously doesn't jab his fingers into their exposed side.

“Thank you, Robert darling,” Desire says, eyes half-lidded as they drink. It comes out far less coquettish than Hob imagines they intended; too genuinely content. Morpheus sighs, and frowns, and doesn't quite do a good enough job of hiding his own ease as he sits up and leans against Hob. 

“I suppose you intend to stay the night?” Morpheus asks. There's nothing of the dignified dreamlord about him now, with his hair flattened on one side and just a little lank, and pillow creases on his cheek. He peers at Desire, half of his weight still supported by Hob, who takes another slurp of tea and polishes off the last of his biscuit. It's still unbelievable, sometimes, that he may see his dour and distant old stranger like this. Something tangible, something grounded, something he can hold. Unbelievable, too, after the way they had almost parted, after the way Morpheus had almost –

Well. Doesn't bear thinking about, really.

“Mm, yes, if you'll have me.” Do they have to work to make everything they say sound like a double entendre,  Hob wonders, or does it come naturally? He's not entirely sure they even notice they're doing it. 

“You're always welcome,” Hob says. “Guest room's all made up, and there's a spare toothbrush under the sink you can have.”

“How very kind. Dream, dear, isn't your man kind?”

“Unreasonably so.”

“Ta, love,” Hob says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Desire rolls their eyes theatrically, as though that might mask how their expression softens. “Now drink your tea, I'd like to get a few more hours’ sleep before I need to get up.”

Morpheus grumbles but straightens up, plucking his mug from the nightstand and cradling it in one hand while he reaches for a biscuit with the other. 

“Should we expect any of our other siblings to join us tonight?” He asks, managing somehow not to spray crumbs everywhere as he does so, which is a bit unfair. Hob has centuries more experience talking through mouthfuls of crumbly biscuits, and he still can't do as good a job of it. “I take it you did not venture out alone this night.”

“No I didn't, but don't worry,” Desire says, tilting their head back as they drain their mug, a neat ring of purple left behind on the ceramic. “My sweet twin is unlikely to make an appearance. I certainly hope, at least – she went home with that little exorcist friend of yours. If she comes here, then something’s gone dreadfully wrong.”

They grin, cat with the cream pleased at the expression on Morpheus’ face, and flick their hand in something like a wave. “Well, goodnight brother! Robert.”

They flounce away towards the spare room, and Hob presses his smile into the curve of Morpheus’ shoulder.

“I hate them,” Morpheus grumbles. Hob kisses the bony jut of skin where his t-shirt has slipped, once, twice.

“No you don't,” he says. Morpheus sighs, sets his mug down, and returns to hold Hob's face still for a proper kiss. Not that Hob would try to get out of it. 

“No,” he agrees softly, pulling Hob down with him for a cuddle onto pillows that still smell a little of peaches. “No. I do not.”

[catboybiologist]

could you explain why/if we can't just copy the genes of one animal and splice them into another animal, for example why we couldn't give humans cat ears?

There's no one easy way to answer this, but the basic answer is that it's not that simple. There's no one gene, or even easily reducible set of genes, that just is "make cat ears". Not only is there a network of genes activated within a cell, there are a myriad of signals from nearby cells (the "microenvironment") as well as cues from the rest of the body and environment.

So each one of the cells making your ear isn't just encoded to be a cell that makes your ear. In fact, most of them don't have any "ear" genetic characteristics or activation. They're generic cartilage or skin cells that were told to grow more or less by neighboring cells or distant cells during carefully coordinated times during growth and development. Each cell interprets this signal in different ways, and also receives multiple signals at a time, the combination of which can produce unique results.

The easiest to interpret example of this is finger development. During development, when your hand is still a fingerless paddle, a single cell on the pinky side of your hand (or thumb side, it could be reversed) releases a signalling molecules to nearby cells. A cell receiving the highest dose will start to become a pinky, and send a signal for the cells immediately around it to aide in that. The next cell that isn't aiding that, but still receives the initial signal, receives a lower concentration of that signal since it's further away. That lower concentration signals a ring finger, and it repeats until you get thumbs at the lowest concentrations.

That's the most visible example, but it's similar to what happens all over the body- signals that are dependent on the structure and genetics of the microenvironment, not just the genetics of the developing cells alone.

This careful network of timing, signals, gene activations, and spatial placement of cells is the core of the field of Developmental Biology (which, technically, my PhD is in as well bc it's often wrapped in with molecular bio lol).

So making cat ears on a human genetically would essentially require not only genetic manipulation, but also babysitting the fetus the entire time and adding in localized signals to the microenvironment of the developing ear cells, which is essentially impossible. There's too much "human" flying around to realistically get that result, and an attempt at doing so would essentially be akin to molecular sculpting. That's why *my* preferred approach would be epithelial stem cell manipulation/printing and subsequent grafting, but that's an entirely different thing.

If you're interested in this kind of thing, the most approachable and engaging summary of developmental biology is the book "Your Inner Fish", by Neil Shubin, the discoverer of Tiktaalik. He summarizes a lot of dev biology through the lens of evolutionary biology, which is a great way to see how differences in structures have arisen and differentiate across the tree of life.

If you want a shorter introduction, and like cute but kinda "cringey in the way you love" science parodies: the song evo-devo by a capella science is really fun and gets stuck in my head a lot:

But yeah, hope that answered your question!

[marisatomay]

there’s a tiktok going around of a woman recording herself sobbing directly into the camera because as she says in the text over the video of her crying her relationship of eight years just ended and since she has adhd that heightens your emotions and while this is not the first video of this kind i’ve seen making the rounds on al gore’s internet it is the first where i’ve seen people call anyone who criticizes the video a misogynist and truly genuinely people need to get a grip because from where i’m sitting we should be criticizing this behavior even more it’s so bizarre to me that we don’t more frequently say how weird and disturbing it is that we’ve created a culture where it’s perfectly normal to intentionally record yourself performatively experiencing all of the trials and triumphs of being alive for internet points which has been coupled with individuality culture and the need to pathologize every very human behavior and emotion to create people whose brains have been so broken that everyone now thinks their every experience is unique to them alone and so naturally they are the first person to feel awful after a long term relationship ends but because of a developmental disorder and not just because they’re a person with feelings and it fucking sucks when sad things happen and i hate it so much we need to knock it off stop recording yourself being alive. stop it.

[dyspunktional-leviathan]

When I am treated “like a child” because of my disabilities the thing fucking isn’t that they “should treat me as adult” the thing is they shouldn’t fucking treat actual children and youth like that

[gloomyhours]

did anyone else’s childhood include most of the adults in your life telling you that you were lying whenever you tried to explain behavior they didn’t like for whatever reason and then you kept desperately trying to explain yourself because surely if you just keep telling the truth they’ll have to listen but they didn’t and you just got in trouble anyway. was this universal or did the adults in my life just suck

[sgrb-archive]

Kaiju Mite Concept Art by João Pedro Sustelo (archive)

“Here are some baby Kaijus I explored. It was so fun trying to emulate @williereal [Willie Real’s] awesome style! He designed all the main Kaijus!” —João Pedro Sustelo (quote originally from @joaopedrosustelo, post deleted)

[pulsar-ray]

happy Pride month ! ! here is your reminder that intensely / severely / big / whatever word wanna use Mentally Disabled people CAN use whatever label/exoression they want because they have the same autonomy as You !

yes this includes Kink

includes Gender

includes HRT

includes Sexuality

includes Romance

includes Neo/Xeno labels

includes those who Can't understand gender sexuality etc because STILL have autonomy to do whatever want

includes EVERYTHING & EVERYONE

!

[punkitypunker]

[spectrumgarden]

Okay so I've never really joined the whole "small talk" argument that's been happening increasingly over the last years because I tend to just not agree with anyone I see discuss it. Like no I dont think people who use it are evil or making things hard on purpose, I also dont think it makes them lesser, ... I Also dont think that someone who refuses to use it / cant use it is automatically worse and will not make friends.

Importantly i also dont think everyone can learn it. I should know because I spent multiple years with professionals trying to teach me how to have a conversation At All and I still am actually nowhere near what would be expected at my age group. (Most recent reports usually go something like "makes slight improvements in having a two sided conversation" - because I can say nothing, or I can ramble on and then not react to your answer. The rest? Struggle time, to this day, in every aspect) No matter how many intricate guides you write, if I fail at the basic concept of a conversational structure very frequently then I will not succeed at small talk either. And additionally I also genuinely can not tell what might be too personal for this other person.

A lot of these people who get upset when people say "I cant do small talk because I'm autistic and I cant learn it, I tried and failed" and go "of course you can!", just sort of like. Ignore that a lot of the developmental delay in conversation and / or (nonverbal) language never closes up for many of us, the way a lot of us generally never reach the developmental level of our peers (in some areas). and it's not because we have not seen enough complex flow charts or not practiced enough. when so many of us literally spend so much additional time of our youth sitting in front of whiteboards and workbooks and such, being explained over and over how to talk to someone at all. I am 22 and after years of explicit teaching I still have to ask for verbal confirmation and explanation of any nonverbal cues that I think were used by my conversational partner, but do not know what they mean. Which is pretty much all of them. And I probably miss a lot of them existing at all. You can scream "just practice until you can recognize the other persons little cues on if they want to deepen or end this" until you turn blue but it will not actually make me accomplish it if the fucking people who've been spending their whole life teaching it didnt make me figure it out. On account of, you know, the developmental delay.

Sure some people can learn! That's why they try to teach us after all! Cause it has been successful! But generally stop with this shit of "everyone can learn this you're just choosing not to!"

I will never be rude to someone for engaging in small talk, I will obviously fail at their attempts to engage me in some, which usually makes them stop trying (thank god). But I will not tolerate others talking shit about it that is uncalled for (implying malice from every user, making fun of people who seem to crave it, ...).

But I also do not care to learn it anymore at this point? It's no goal of mine. I have made multiple friends, most non autistic, without ever using small talk. Including in adulthood. We simply skipped that stage. We went from "hi!" "Hi!" Immediately to "heres when it went wrong in my life (humorous but still often dark / personal). Also these are my political opinions. Sure I want to hear about the girl you dated for years in excruciating detail. Let me retell you the plot of this old indie movie you will never watch for 20 minutes and why I enjoy it. Let's go to a concert together after talking slightly in depth like this twice". Is this the way that you creep everyone out in everyone's friendship acquisition theory I've been seeing? Sure! It's been working perfectly fine, enough of the times for me, though.

Will this work in like a work environment or something? Most likely not, which is why I generally plan to keep to myself. Does this mean I still confuse every stranger who approaches me trying to small talk? Sure. that's why I'm still fucking disabled. But I have created meaningful relationships as an adult without small talk. I have genuinely tried learning in many ways and failed. And I'm done apologizing for that, either you take me with my inability to small talk or you wont.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Soap: We need you to translate this document that’s in Spanish

Sweetie: I can’t read this

Soap: ???? You speak Spanish with your mom on the phone all the time

Sweetie: First of all, that’s my grandma. Second of all, I am HORRIBLE at speaking Spanish and have no idea how to read or write it.

Soap: Are you fucking serious?

[allowed-to-take-up-space]

Something I've been thinking about a lot is the way my father would critique and stereotype every single person he saw, yet still insist he wasn't judgmental.

We are in the car, my dad driving, me in the passenger seat. I am a child, maybe 11 years old. My father points at the girl standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change. "Yikes. Good thing she's out walking. Looks like she needs it. Bet she's hoping she'll fit into the outfit she's wearing someday."

"Dad, that's not a nice thing to say about someone."

"It's fine. She can't hear me. I would never say something like that to someone's face. You know, MY dad was homophobic and racist, so at least I'm better than that."

Maybe that girl on the corner didn't hear my father. But I did. And I've never forgotten it. Or the time I finally admitted to him - after YEARS of being a suicidal teen - that I was extremely depressed, and he told me I was one of those kids making shit up for attention, because HE had been in a car crash at one point and experienced REAL depression.

And yet I always ponder, now, how I could possibly be so insecure. Why I cannot just accept myself and move forward. Why I look at myself in the mirror with disgust.

It's HIS voice that echoes in my head. It's HIS nasty remarks that I remember. It's HIS judgmental opinions that I have to rid from my brain, every single time they pop up, because I KNOW better.

Even though I haven't spoken to my dad in several years now, the way he treated myself and others invades my mind constantly. His negativity has shaped so much of me - of my LIFE - and last time we DID speak, he still refused to take any accountability for the multitude of ways in which he hurt me (this specific topic not even covering 1/10 of the ways in which he did).

Furthermore, this makes me think about all the people who utter "harmless comments" about others when they don't think someone who might be hurt by that is listening. I've been privy to many conversations that have left me feeling hollow, without the folks making those judgmental comments realizing that what they've said applies to me. And I don't often feel safe enough to stand up for myself.

I wish folks could realize that openly passing heinous judgment on strangers is a gateway to passing judgment on people you care about.

"I would never say something like that to someone's face."

You said it to mine.

[kipskiptrip]

For the Love of God if I see one more person use the term ND as a synonym for higher-functioning ADHDtism I will take my jaws and rip out the flesh of all the people within an 100 mile radius from me starting with myself