#incapable of work

[antonsautismlife]

I saw this post in an autism Tumblr community. I wanted to answer in a post because it's better for me than in a comment. I asked the person if I'm allowed to do it. The person allowed it, but I should censor the name and the pfp. So, now I make this post.

I'm a 17 years old boy with MSN (moderatesupportneeds) autism. I will turn 18 on April the 5th.

I was also scared of becoming an adult. It started when I was 11-12 years old. I didn't felt like other tweens, and I was scared that people would be more judging about that I like to play with toys when I'm an adult. That feeling became more and more until 15 - 16.

I'm officially severely disabled and in need of care since I'm 9 years old which was shortly after my autism diagnosis. My care needs were and also are significantly more than it would be normal for my age. I also have a lot of challenging behavior which also makes my official care needs categorization higher. Until 12 I absolutely don't realized how severely disabled I was. With 12 I realized it a little bit. With 15 I realized it fully but I tried to forget it in many phases because it was hard to accept that I never will be able to life on my own or work a job. Having issues to accept my disability also was a reason why I was scared to become an adult. I was an age dreamer at that time. It was helpful to imagine I would be 5 years old because my care needs would be normal for that age.

With nearly 17 and 17, I learned to accept my severe disability. Being an adult also became just a number (the number 18) for me and not a behavior or something similar.

Now I'm not scared of becoming and adult anymore. I life in a care home for disabled adults (and 16-17 year olds) since April 25th, 2024. My mom visits me often. Every few weeks, she goes to a toy store with me. I buy fidgettoys and also other toys. I don't really think much about what others in the toy store think about me. My mom also told me around 1 year ago that most people who see me in stores can see that I have a developmental disability. I know that not many things will change when I turn 18. I will need a legal guardian in some areas (in the Austrian system of legal guardianship people don't have a legion guardian in all areas when they only need one in some areas unless they say they want it in all areas). I'm even happy to become an adult because when I'm 18 and have an extreme meltdown and need to get brought the the psychward by the police it won't be the paediatric psychward anymore and in adult psychwards you are allowed to keep your phone. Many people who were in paediatric and adult psychwards also say their experience in adult psychwards was mostly better. So now 18 is just a number for me without much change.

I'm not really an age dreamer anymore I play with toys when I like to but I don't age dream anymore or really really seldom but I definitely think people should age dream / age regress if it's helpful for them.

I don't know the support needs of the person who wrote this text, but because the community isn't especially for higher support needs autistics, the person probably has low support needs compared to other autistics. (Sorry if it's wrong) I know that many autistics feel the way described the text, but I luckily don't feel this way anymore. I told my story in that post, but I know the experience of becoming an adult of lower support needs autistics is different.

[hinamie]

03/20

hbd itadori yuuji the mc of all time!!!!!!

[starmocha]

Relentless Conqueror [Sylus/Reader ★ 1790 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] To be wedded to the strongest warrior in the village was an honor and a blessing. A/N: I saw someone specified that Sylus is dressed as a Mongolian wrestler in the new memory. I am so excited for it, but um…this fic has absolutely nothing to do with that. My mind just swerved completely off-course the moment I saw this man manhandling us again lmao And…yeah…this is based on this post I made earlier. Still in my ✨shameful Sylus posting era✨ 😔

In the wide-open plane of the grassland, everything could be heard for miles all around. Stretched across the vast expanse, one area was occupied by numerous huts making up a small but thriving village.

Within the village, everyone had a role. The elders guided and led the villagers with their years of wisdom. The men were providers, hunters, and warriors while the women sustained the community and reared the children who would one day take over, thus continuing this cycle of life.

You were no exception. It was time for you to take your place among others with the new role you were about to take.

Fortune had smiled down upon you. Hushed whispers wove through the village, going from mouth to mouth, passing loose lips after loose lips, before the news finally reached you.

Sylus had chosen you to be his bride.

To be chosen by the strongest warrior in the village to be his bride was an honor bestowed only on you. He would provide you with a life of comfort and in turn, you were to bear him strong children. Many of the other maidens envied you, wanting to covet your place, to steal him away from you.

However, Sylus was truly the epitome of the ideal warrior: Large, strong, and imposing. He was unyielding on the battlefield, and he was unyielding in his decisions.

Of all the maidens who had crossed his path, only one had managed to ensnare him, to captivate him like no others.

You.

It was a prosperous union witnessed in a lavish ceremony by the entire village, cheered to be blessed by the gods themselves. A true match made in Heaven, many declared, as the wedding ceremony ended and the celebration began.

Arm linked with your new husband, you greeted and thanked the well-wishers, watching with wonders as everyone feasted and drank to your marriage. The merriment started from morning and continuing well into the late night. After nightfall had descended, Sylus led you away from the celebration. No one noticed the absence of the bride and groom, too drunk on alcohol and the festivities to even be aware of their surroundings.

Sylus whisked you away to his quiet hut, far from the music, laughter, and cheers. He towered over you, holding aside the curtain at the entryway to allow you entrance. As you entered, you could see the hut had been prepped for the wedding night.

It was a very comfortable living space, more extravagant than many of the other villagers’ homes. You barely had a moment to fully take in the sight of your new home before Sylus swept you off your feet, cradled in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down on fur, your beauty illuminated by the lamps within the hut. You could still hear the residual laughter and chatters outside as the rest of the villagers continued in their merriment celebrating this union.

“Pay them no heed,” Sylus ordered, grasping your chin firmly and forcing your sight on him. “Tonight, and for the rest of our lives, you are mine.”

He kissed you roughly, not minding your inexperience. It pleased him that your chasteness meant you were untouched, meant that he would have the sole honor of claiming you.

He disrobed his blushing bride, guiding your nimble hands to his toned body, letting you touched upon his firm muscles, feel the heat from his body. One by one, accessories fell, clinking and clanking on the ground. Then, his own ceremonial garments were discarded, tossed carelessly to the side and leaving him bare and nude, your eyes feasting on the wonderous sight of your new husband.

You swallowed slowly, feeling the gentle flutters of butterflies in your belly. He smirked at your nervousness. One hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You whimpered when he claimed your lips again, his large body overpowering you in seconds. He had you spread beneath him, his own body looming over yours and keeping you trapped under him. He cupped your sex, startling you as his long, slender fingers worked into your folds.

You let out a sharp gasp, fingers finding their way into his hair, and tugging at him nervously.

“Relax,” he ordered, “You’re not ready for me yet.”

He was well-endowed, his size intimidating, and you unconsciously clenched, only realizing when you heard Sylus’ deep chuckle. You blushed crimson, but your embarrassment soon passed the moment you felt Sylus working his fingers in and out of you.

“Ah—” Your hips moved on their own, desperately meeting his thrusts, wanting more, just a bit more. Your toes curled, body tensing up when you felt his thumb brushing against something that was causing you to jolt in pleasure. “M-more…Sylus…please…”

“You like that, sweetie?”

You nodded numbly, your voice coming out breathless. “Yes…please…my husband.”

You didn’t see the way Sylus’ eyes gleamed in satisfaction, didn’t hear his quick intake of breath over your own helpless moans. He smirked.

He seized your mouth again, taking in your startled cries, his fingers slipping in and out of your wet folds faster and faster. “My bride—my wife…” he murmured back, nipping and sucking greedily, “You’re so wet now, sweetie…Do you feel good?”

You sobbed and cried as his fingers curled inside. There was a tightening in your belly. You called out to him, scared. “Sy—Sylus…”

He shushed you gently. “Come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, your cries filling the room. Sylus’ smirk widened as he watched you come undone by his fingers alone. He kissed your lips, praising you softly as you panted and sobbed. You barely recovered when he withdrew his fingers, his length taking place.

You bucked in surprise, eyes widening. “Sy-Sylus, no…”

“You are ready for me, my bride,” he assured. He pressed forward and you gripped a handful of the fur throw beneath you, your sensitive body feeling suddenly overstimulated by the massive intrusion taking place. Impossibly big, you thought, as your walls stretched around his thick length, taking him in slowly through much pain. He barely comforted you, seemingly enjoying the sight of you gasping and moaning as you were getting stuffed by him. His soft pants grew shallower, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched his beloved new bride taking him in inch by inch.

He praised you over and over once he was fully sheathed inside you, his deep voice comforting you in that moment. “You’re doing so well,” he said, voice thick with desire, “I have chosen the perfect wife.”

You felt a warmth in your belly, his praise filling you with unexpected joy. “Sylus…”

He smirked.

He took you brutally, riding you as rough and hard like his faithful steed. You wept and sobbed as his powerful thrusts reached that euphoric spot that had you writhing and moaning, begging him for more and more of this sweet, agonizing pleasure. You had never known the touch of a man before this night, and from this moment onwards, Sylus made sure you never will. He was going to make sure your body learned that you were his, craved only him, and only satisfied by him.

He was wrecking you, ruining you. You moaned as his large hand covered your flat belly. “You better prepare yourself, my bride,” he husked, “the women in my family only bear large children.”

You trembled, unsure if what you were feeling was fear or otherwise. He slipped his hands under you, groping and grabbing your buttocks and lifting you off the bed, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Immediately, your head lolled to the side, your moans resounded within the private space as you felt him penetrating you deeply, his pacing still unrelenting and unforgiving. This new angle had you calling out to him needily, feeling the second climax approaching fast.

Closer…and closer…and closer—

“Dear gods…” he groaned as you came undone again, your walls squeezing tightly around his cock. He pressed you back into the bed, letting you ride out your high as he chased after his. His hand grasped yours, pressing them deeper into the bedding.

“Gonna fuck my child into you,” he grunted, his hips slapping against yours, “Gonna breed you, have you heavy with my baby in your womb.”

He fondled your breast, massaging it roughly under his calloused hand. His mouth was close to yours, his hot, humid breath fanned over your lips. “Gonna have you swell, gonna have you bear me sons and daughters over and over again…”

Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in closer to his surprise. He smirked. His hand reached out to brush your hair out of your sweat-slicked face. He leaned in closer, kissing you briefly, and then he asked, “Did you like the sound of that, my bride? Do you like what I am saying? Do you like knowing this is your role from now on? To bear my children over and over again?”

“Y—” you bit down on your bottom lip, embarrassed.

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, eliciting more of your sweet cries.

He held you close and you sobbed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck as you felt him still pounding into your pussy. “Yes…Yes…!” you cried out, clinging to him, “I want your baby…I want to have all of your babies, Sylus!”

“Fuck’s sake…” His eyes squeezed shut, feeling you come again already. This time, he also felt his own climax, felt himself pumping hot into you. He groaned again, “Take every last drop, sweetie.”

You felt so impossibly full, his seed flooding your womb. There was not a doubt in your head that this union wouldn’t be fruitful. You were going to carry his baby, bear him large, strong sons—future warriors to carry on his legacy.

“My bride, my beautiful bride,” he murmured, lavishing you in his sweet kisses as he pulled out. He gazed down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and doe eyes staring back at him. He hummed softly, his lips finding yours again, his large hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.”

Beyond the hut, the celebration continued. Laughter and singing continued well into the late night, but within this hut, there was only the labored breathing, desperate gasps and pleased moans filling the space for hours on end. Time seemed to have slowed down, the world quieting.

He took you, claimed you over and over again. Your body was his, and his was yours. From this day and onwards, in this life and all of the lifetimes to come, you were his bride, the only one capable of stealing the heart of the feared conqueror of the grassland.

[babymorte]

worst part about finding out somebody lied to you is having to sit there and wonder what else they lied about

[millenianthemums]

“you’re not pure evil, you’re a person just like everyone else who’s in total control of their actions and choices” would upset Bill more than any insult ever could

[inkedinserendipity]

one of the reasons i think that the murderbot diaries’ emotional moments hit so hard is because of a scarcity effect that the author has set up really, really well.

because, like—murderbot, as a character, is an answer to the question how do you “show and not tell” emotional moments from the lens of a character who point-blank will not acknowledge any affection directed their way. or, instead of overtly stating that characters are friends (“tell”), how do you demonstrate it with text (“show”)? well, most authors go ham on characters smiling at each other, laughing, joking, expressing reciprocal loyalty.

murderbot does none of those things. murderbot probably never smiled before preservation, and definitely didn’t laugh. (this is only partially an exaggeration.) telling jokes? hell yeah, MB’s funny as fuck. to other people? hell no. that would require conversations and it’d rather die, thanks.

add that to the fact that murderbot treats any expressions of affection toward it—internal and external—like being bit by a snake.

so you have this character + writing style that bars most conventional ways of establishing relationships between characters. you also have this character who is basically incapable of feeling any sort of reciprocated, positive emotion toward itself. so what do you do?

you work around your character. murderbot will never pick up on affectionate body language. it hates hugs. every sentence it hears passes through about fifteen different filters of self-loathing. so you make your relationships clear, and when you hit, you hit hard.

you summarize snapshots of characters panicking about the main character getting hurt. you drop your character’s performance reliability (and their walls) and have them banter. you have your character walk in on the tail end of conversations that expose concern for it.

and then you do things so overt that even your shit-self-esteem character can’t talk its way out of. you have its friend tell it directly that it can’t lose it too. you have its friends accommodate it and understand it without it directly expressing a single need. you have its friends stand up for it in conversation when it is too tired to do so. and then, when you really want to hit, you have your character pretend to be physically compromised rather than have to feel one (1) positive emotion toward itself.

positive emotions toward itself can’t really pass through murderbot’s walls. so you have to establish relationships by beating your main character over the head with them. and it can’t be all the time—because that’s not how relationships and emotional recovery, yknow, works—but it can be sometimes, and it can be very powerful, and that is why i think murderbot diaries in particular is very, very effective.

[alligaytorswamp]

i have been fixating on kinich for a while now hhh

[ivanscarf]

what do you think of,,,….ameripan,,,…? :o3

alfred is kiku’s retribution but he kinda just makes him worse

[piierogis]

they are everything to me

[rookflower]

cant get behind mutual thrushblue not for any disdain for thrushpelt but it gets on my nerves when a guy's romantic advances towards a girl he likes are rejected/not reciprocated in canon and then in a weirdly gendered way everybody goes "aw but he's nice :( so here's my au where she does like him back" bitch what's even the point then!!

[hinamie]

this is an ideal illusion .

[dataframe]

「 I turned my eyes away and lived 」 truth of the immortal alliance conference comes to light

[ID: Scum Villain fanart, set in Proud Immortal Demon Way. In image one, Shang Qinghua bids the viewer (Mu Qingfang) goodbye with closed eyes and a smile as he walks toward Mobei-jun. Ice arrows threaten to pierce him; dry blood trails his step and coats his uniform, hands, and face. In image two, Mu Qingfang is kneeling, surrounded by fire and silhouettes of dead disciples, looking upon the viewer (Shang Qinghua) with a stricken expression. Their hair is disheveled and fresh blood soaks their uniform and cheek. A hand lingers on their sword, hesitant to unsheathe it. END ID]

[indybob]

Idk why but early to mid forties hangster has been stuck in my head and they won’t leave me alone. I’m thinking they’ve been married for going on ten years, they adopted two kids, a pair of siblings, a girl and a boy. The first few years are difficult at first, but they both get promoted beyond flying, and Jake is still so in love with his job, though Bradley is less so.

After a long and difficult conversation, Bradley decides to retire from the Navy after 20 years. He misses flying, and he finds that he genuinely would rather help raise the kids, so he becomes a sort of stay at home dad. He gets his penchant, healthcare, and all those other benefits for himself, Jake, and their kids, while Jake continues to rank up to a two star admiral.

Bradley lasts about three months in “retirement” before he applies to be an instructor at a local flight school, deciding that his fighter jet days are in the past, but his love for flight will never fade. He picks up a few students throughout the year as a sort of part time passion job. Something to do for fun while the kids are at school all day and his husband is at work.

It works out great because not only does Bradley have something to do, but he finds he has a knack for teaching and that it brings him just as much joy, if not even more, than flying fighter jets. It becomes the best compromise for himself and Jake so one of them can be at home a little more consistently with the kids, and neither one of them has to give up their dreams.

And, well, nothing fills Jake’s heart with love quite like seeing his husband so happy.

[reinvent-and-believe]

[desolate-flame]

me when i realise my colleagues arent on the same page as me about our workplace codependent relationship

[solisevart]

I’ve had will saying ‘skill issue’ in my head ever since I saw this text post and I had to, plushie lover will byers my beloved