#my future is institutionalisation

[nosecondivelived]

was convinced for a good few hours today that if i bit someone their meat would fall off because. i did not think they were real. i also thought i could punch through my desk like a stage prop. not good things to believe while in a room with 30 other people taking a test. luckily i am a normal functioning member of society and finished that test without issue! kidding i dont remember it happening at all.

[pinkslashersimp]

Hello! May I request headcanons for NBC’s Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham with a Venom!fem!reader? The reader has a symbiote like her fellow investigative journalist Eddie Brock, but has not told her partners about her ‘little friend’ or that she eats really, very bad people until another symbiote, Carnage, shows up and attacks them on a night around the town or when they are all about to have dinner in Hannibal’s home? Thank you so much!

╰┈➤ Note: Hello!!! sorry this took so long, I’m volunteering (childcare practitioner) and I work as a chef on the weekend so my spare time is almost none existent 😭 this is my first time writing for someone with powers(???) - which i may start doing in the future bc my Marvel interest has peaked 👀 - so pls forgive me if this isn’t the best or is a little sloppy T-T

✎ Synopsis: You and Eddie both share a dark secret, which Hannibal and Will both suspect may be cannibalism. But when an enemy attacks, how will your work partners react to your true self?

Of course you’d kept it secret, had you told anyone, let alone Hannibal, about your or Eddies “little secret” it’s no doubt you both would’ve been institutionalised immediately.

You were very, very, sneaky about who you ate and where. Picking off rude people you saw in the store, men who are too crude to women, or following drivers who drive like dicks off the road to devour. People nobody would necessarily miss too much. They were never reported as murders, either, just missing.

Since you and Eddie are investigative journalists you would be assigned to these cases with the aid of Hannibal, but would quickly drop them, as there is “insufficient evidence” and it “simply could be anyone”

Hannibal believes you’re both lazy at first, dismissing cases, until he realises there’s a common theme going on between you both. People go missing in the same area, you’re both assigned to the case with his help, and suddenly the case is dropped with you both acting suspicious.

He, of course, does not think you’re symbiote. Just a classic cannibal murderer.

Will has his suspicions too, but instead of believing you’re cannibal murderers he simply believes perhaps you both know something about the missing people that you aren’t saying for whatever reason.

It displeases them both greatly.

Hannibal and Will both agree that the best course of action would be to host a dinner party at Hannibal’s home, to gain trust and open a discussion about the missing people.

And to potentially see if you recognise the taste of human meat…

You and Eddie both turn up to the party, in your smartest attire, ignoring the very sarcastic comments the symbiotes make as you both get ready.

When you are both seated, Hannibal and Will share glances with one another

You and Eddie share a glance too, after tasting the meat, silently confirming exactly what you have both just put in your mouthes. And Hannibal catches onto this.

He glances over at Will again, and before he can say anything a loud crash comes from the back of the dining room, as the window shatters upon impact when a giant, red symbiote with rage in its eyes crashes in

“What the FUCK-!?” Will shouts, pulling out his gun and firing into it as much as he can.

Hannibal stands and quickly moves away from it, as it snarls and takes every bullet from Wills gun. It turns to both you and Eddie as Venom emerges from you both, emerging from your skin like a sick, black, sweat.

Hannibal and Will both stand back in the doorway, watching in confused horror as the three of you fight it out in their dining room, you and Eddie quickly overpower carnage and he turns on his tail and runs out into the night, howling about coming back.

You both turn back and check on each other, before turning to your horrified friends in the corner.

“what the fuck was that…” Will asks, his gun pointed at the both of you, whilst Hannibal desperately tries to process what just happened.

Looks like you’ve both got too much explaining to do.

[littleststarfighter]

May I ask if there’s any mcr fics that you would recommend

These are what I’ve enjoyed so far. All Frerard (Frank/gerard) fic recs. I have many more to read (saved about 100 fics yikes) so will have more recs in the future if anyone is interested? A lot of supernatural, spooky and ghosty ones here. And, lots of Danger Days as that’s what got me into reading them in the first place. Of course I started with what is seen as the holy fic trinity. These are just my tastes. I can’t promise that they’ll be yours, but hope there’s something you like XD

Unholyverse by Bexless

“He thinks I have stigmata,” Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn’t get any worse. He might as well just lay it out.

“Oh, well,” said Brian into his hands. “Of course.”

The Anatomy of a Fall by novembersmith

The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard's life takes a strange turn when his family moves to a small town in Vermont and he discovers the locals aren't all what they seem to be. Also includes: unexpected nature walks, murder, pining, improper treatment of crime scenes, a number of bone-related puns, high school bullies, and a short-range shrub named Ferdinand.

A Splitting Of The Mind by Shoved2agree (Gaiamdma)

Gerard Way sees the world differently. Alone and institutionalised, Gerard claims that he is being hunted, and that his mind holds the key to existence. Does Gerard really hold such a powerful secret? Or is he just insane like everyone else in the institution?

Run by vesna (mrsronweasley)

Being a secret teenage werewolf is hard. Frank should know. He is one.

James Cameron Got It Wrong by ladyfoxxx

In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019.

Shadows In The Parking Lot by Cellphonecharm_au

In which there’s a mass grave under Frank and Ray’s apartment complex, Frank doesn’t believe in ghosts, & Frank’s ex-boyfriend is, conveniently, a paranormal consultant.

The Science of Sleep by chimneythunder

It’s 2011 and Frank Iero’s life is pretty average until the night where he starts getting dreams about a strange, apocalyptic California where there’s rayguns, grey corporations and terrorists who use art and colour as a weapon. Interesting and fun at first, but the more he dreams about this world, the more he starts to wonder if it really is a dream... and the deeper he gets into this futuristic world, the more it seems to affect his life in the present day.

And just how exactly does everything all seem to link in with that douchebag black-haired artist who sits in Starbucks every day?

The Calypso Initiative by theficisalie

AU: A rise in technological and medical advancements combined with an unexpected surge in mutations around the globe can only mean one thing: superpowers. As a child born before the information boom of 2010 rocked the world with the official news of these "SuperHumans", Frank Iero was kicked out onto the street at nine years old. His power seems to be more of a curse than a blessing: his body creates and leaks a net of energy that sets those who are unaware of it on edge. He is saved at first by a rogue agent of the government who understands the plight of the homeless children, and then by a small team of government agents who bring him into The Institute: an underground compound set up by the government to teach those with emerging superpowers how to control and use their gifts.

Frank finally has a place where he seems to belong, and a group of friends: Mikey Way, a telepath; Gerard Way, whose body is a vacuum that neutralizes energy; and Ray Toro, a healer. All is far from perfect, however. Frank’s powers and training are put to the ultimate test when he has to fight both evil and betrayal to save not only the world, but also the best family he’s ever known.

synchronicity (cut me open, cut you down) by BackyardOwl 

Party Poison glares like Frank’s mere presence could’ve jeopardized the game. But then the scowl melts off and is exchanged with a smirk.

“I’m so glad you came tonight!” he says in the fakest sugary tone possible. “It’s important for a novice to observe, because you learn so much. And surely you learned from this, because that?” He motions to the arena behind him. “That’s how you play GridSlam.”

Frank is shaking. He’s this fucking close to decking the motherfucker. Novice? He hasn’t been a fucking novice since age fucking 11!

(a story about heated rivalries, mourning your loved ones, and cheating death)

Strange Things Happen At The One Two Points by lovebashed 

1930s. The Dust Bowl. Having no place to turn after his mother's death, Frank joins a carnival. By doing so a chain of events commence, that lead him to Pete. Frank and Pete couldn't be more different, but they both possess strange powers that gain momentum as their journeys unfurl. Both their lives, and that of those they know, will be irrevocably changed before the end. Carnivale AU.

I Believe We're The Enemy by Test_subject_306

"You know what?" Frank snaps, glaring at the person who used to be Party Poison. "You know, sometimes I wish they'd just killed you instead."

[intr1gu3d]

tw ed, sh, si

i don’t want to be Lia. i don’t want red ladders or a bone corset; but part of me always will. i want white ladders, but i don’t want to make the red ones first. i want collarbones, but i don’t want to lie for them. i want to be institutionalised, but i don’t want to tell them. i want to jump, but i don’t want to stop breathing. i want to swallow them all, but i don’t want to drink the souls of the artists. i want to be dead, but i want to watch them know i’m gone. i don’t want to pull a disappearing act, but i don’t see anyone in the future playing dress-ups with my skin.

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Alien

Edit to the edit: Now with art from the wonderful @geetimesthree! Thank you so much for this! Please check out the rest of their art as well, it’s amazing!

Edit: copy and pasting from Google Docs fucks up the format so some lines were missing. Please excuse my shitty replacements lol.

This is a Birdrick fic I’ve been sitting on for a while because it got out of my control and I couldn’t figure out what direction I wanted to go with it. It’s set in the early Flesh Curtains days and draws a lot of inspiration from Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series (which I would 100% recommend). It was originally intended to be a series of moments where Rick and Birdperson realise just how alien the other really is to them (with undertones of Birdrick) but it kind of mutated into something more. However, I’ve been so stuck with what do with it that I haven’t really touched it, so I’ve decided to post what I’ve got so far. There are inklings of a plot/potential future stuff developing but I can’t promise that anything more will come of it so this may end up being a oneshot. Anyway, let’s get on with it!

Summary: Birdperson looks close enough to human that Rick sometimes forgets he’s not only a member of another species, but one from an entirely different evolutionary timeline. Other times, however, the difference is undeniable. ~6.8k words

Warnings: ableism (both internalised and from others, including mentions of forced institutionalisation, mainly towards the end), both Rick and BP having derogatory inner thoughts, eating insects (why is this something that’s been a warning for multiple fics of mine lmao)

Birdperson looks close enough to human that Rick sometimes forgets he’s not only a member of another species, but one from an entirely different evolutionary timeline. Other times, however, the difference is undeniable.

One such time is when he offers to make Birdperson a coffee one morning shortly after the Flesh Curtains move in together.

“H-how do you take it? Milk, sugar?” he asks.

Birdperson looks at Rick in puzzlement. “Milk?” 

“Uh, yeah, you know. It comes from mammary glands?”

“Is that not what mammals feed to their young?”

Rick blinks. “Well, I mean, yeah, originally, but most people have it in their coffee or cereal or, or whatever, even adults.”

Birdperson considers this for a minute. “Might I ask how you acquired human milk so far away from Earth?”

“What? No, this isn’t human milk. I-I don’t have breastmilk in my coffee!”

“So it’s artificial?” Birdperson asks with an air of relief.

“No, it’s real! It’s from shloopy-shlops.”

Birdperson looks vaguely sickened. “You consume the milk of other species?”

“Uh, yeah. You didn’t think it was from a human, did you?”

“Are you not disturbed by this? It must be a big change from what you’re used to on Earth.”

“Nah, this stuff is pretty similar to cows’ milk.”

“Cows?”

“Yeah, they’re-they’re a big herbivorous mammal we have on Earth. We use ‘em for their meat and milk.”

“Even on Earth you eat the mammary fluids of other animals?” Birdperson’s expression of disgust deepens.

“Uh, yeah?”

Birdperson takes a moment to steady himself. “Forgive me. I do not mean to judge your species, but this concept is sickening to me.”

Rick grins. “Now you know how I feel about eating bugs.”

Birdperson smiles, very subtly, but Rick catches it. 

“So, no milk?” Rick asks.

For the first time since meeting Birdperson, Rick hears him actually laugh aloud. It’s more of a sharp exhale than anything else, but it sparks a giddy feeling in his chest all the same.

“No, I think I will go without it for now.”

———————————————————————

Rick sits at home, alone and bored. An hour or so earlier, Squanchy had retired to his room with explicit instructions not to disturb him for the next few hours and Birdperson had left to buy groceries. Birdperson had invited Rick along, but Rick had waved the offer off, not interested in braving the sensory overload of the markets on that particular day. However, he has since started to regret this choice, as Birdperson has been gone for some time, and Rick’s not making the mistake of interrupting Squanchy during his ‘me time’ again. As much as he hates to admit it, Rick struggles with being alone.

He gets up and paces restlessly over to the window. He tells himself he’s not going to sit and wait like a dog, but he can’t stop himself from looking outside anyway. 

Pathetic. he scolds himself. You couldn’t bear to be alone, that’s why you moved in here. You want to tell yourself you’re still out hunting, but really you just can’t cope on your own, can you? I hope they get sick of you and leave, and then you’ll have to get back to actually looking for your daughter’s killer. Have you forgotten about that, you piece of shit? 

His train of thought grinds to a halt as he catches sight of Birdperson approaching the apartment building, paper bags in his arms. Rick jumps at the opportunity to escape his thoughts and rushes out of the apartment and down the stairs.

He opens the front door to see Birdperson fumbling for his keys. The other man looks up in surprise.

“Hey, Pers.” Rick grins, leaning against the doorframe. “I saw you coming, thought you-you might want some help.” he holds his hands out and Birdperson passes him a bag. It’s heavier than he made it look and Rick struggles with it for a second. Birdperson raises an eyebrow - or rather, his equivalent of an eyebrow.

“Can you manage?” he asks.

“Yeah!” Rick insists, trying not to let on how heavy the bag actually is. His brain doesn’t help matters, distracting him with thoughts of how strong Birdperson must be and ideas of what else he could use that strength for.

“If you insist.” Birdperson replies in a tone that shows he’s not convinced. “Thank you.”

The two make their way back up to the apartment, Rick finding himself talking far too much about any inane topic he can think of. Thankfully, Birdperson doesn’t seem to mind.

“By the way, whatever you do, don’t go in Squanchy’s room until you’re sure it’s fine. Trust me.” Rick advises him. Birdperson nods seriously in response, knowing all too well what Rick means.

They tumble into the apartment and Rick dumps the bag on the kitchen table, spilling its contents everywhere. He spots a packet of cookies and tears it open, cramming one into his mouth. Among the groceries, he notices a container of bright-coloured red and orange fruit labelled with an unfamiliar script.

“Hey, Pers, what’re these?” he asks through a mouthful of food.

“It is a fruit from my homeworld. Cubba-sah.”

Rick attempts to repeat the word back to Birdperson, who nods at him and takes one.

“Would you like one? They’re sweet.” he offers.

“Lemme just check real quick.” 

Rick fishes around in a drawer and pulls out a device of his own making to check if the fruit is suitable for human consumption. While more widespread species enjoy the safety of relatively common knowledge when it comes to what alien foods they can and can’t eat, humans are not so lucky. After all, very few of them have ever made it off Earth, and fewer still have met aliens, much less tried their foods. As such, Rick has to take his own measures to work out what is and isn’t safe for him.

He scans the fruit and the screen lights up green with the message ‘No known toxins’. Shrugging, he takes a fruit and pops it into his mouth.

A second later, Rick is aware of nothing except burning. A stinging sensation starts in his tongue and rises throughout his face, setting his skin ablaze as it goes. The pain is vaguely familiar to his unconscious mind and he grabs at the fridge, chugging down milk in hopes of relieving the sensation. 

“Hot.” he gasps. His eyes and nose are streaming, blurring his vision. Through the tears, he can make out Birdperson’s form moving towards him.

“Rick, are you alright? Do you require assistance?” he asks urgently.

Rick shakes his head and takes another swig of the milk, wiping at his eyes.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just… Jesus, why didn’t you tell me it was spicy?”

Birdperson blinks. “I was not aware that you would perceive it as such. Are you entirely sure that you are not having an adverse reaction?”

Rick nods. “Yeah, because this makes it better.” he replies, raising the milk carton. “Fuck, it’s like eating my abuela’s cooking.”

Birdperson suddenly starts. “Ah.”

“What?”

“I… have just remembered something.” he seems uncharacteristically downtrodden. “On my home planet, there is a species of rodent we call sqoo rah lub. They are pests that invade supplies of grain and the like. To deter them, we use an extract of this fruit. It contains a compound that they find unpleasant, but that is harmless and undetectable to us. I believe the term for it in common is ‘capsaicin’.”

Rick chuckles. “Ah, that would explain it. So these,” he gestures to the fruit, “are basically peppers?”

“I am unfamiliar with this term.”

“Hang on.” Rick rummages through the cupboards until he finds a seasoning that’s roughly the alien equivalent of chilli powder. “Try this.”

He sprinkles some on Birdperson’s outstretched fingers. Birdperson raises them to his mouth and flicks out his tongue to lick the powder from them. Rick has to fight to keep his thoughts from wandering off into less appropriate areas. Birdperson smacks his lips.

“It is… very dry.”

“But not spicy? Or hot?”

“No, just a slightly sweet-tasting powder. You mean, to you, this causes pain?”

“Ah, pain’s a strong word. It’s kind of just like… a burn.”

Birdperson still does not look convinced.

“I have seen you use this on your own food before. Why do you own and consume something that causes a burning sensation for you?”

Rick shrugs. “It’s nice. Gives it a kick. A-and hey, like I said, I grew up on Abuela’s cooking, this is nothing in comparison.”

“I am afraid I still do not understand.”

“Oh man, if we ever visit Earth you totally have to try a ghost pepper.”

When Squanchy emerges from his solo session, Rick hounds him to try one of the cubba-sah. Squanchy sniffs it and instantly recoils with an expression that reminds Rick of a domestic cat.

“No way am I squanchin’ that! It smells like that stuff you put on your food!” he exclaims to Rick, backing away.

“I wonder if it is only mammals that experience this as spicy, or whether it is only my people who do not.” Birdperson ponders.

“See, you eating this I can understand because you don’t feel the burn, but him,” Squanchy points at Rick, “I just don’t get! How can you enjoy that pain?”

Rick grins. “It’s not painful, it’s just a nice kick.”

They continue to squabble playfully and, for the first time in a long time, Rick allows himself to relax into the happiness, rather than waiting for it to be snatched away.

———————————————————————

Living in what can only be described - in rather generous terms - as ‘a shithole’, Rick has long since become accustomed to pests. Slugs, some sort of small rodent, and, most recently, ants have all invaded their apartment and subsequently faded into just another part of the background noise. Therefore, it doesn’t come as a surprise to him to walk into the kitchen one morning to a colony of the insects on the floor.

What does catch him off guard, however, is the sight of Birdperson lying amongst them, wings spread out and lowered so that they’re touching the floor. Rick’s half-asleep brain takes a few moments to clock his bandmate at all, but once it does, it goes into overdrive, thinking his friend has passed out or worse. Before Rick can spiral too far, however, Birdperson tilts his head up to look at Rick.

“Good morning, Rick Sanchez.” he greets, using Rick’s full name in a way that never fails to make Rick melt a little inside.

“Uh… BP? What’re you doing?” Rick asks, his voice still rough with sleep.

“I am getting rid of parasites.” Birdperson responds simply, matter-of-fact as ever.

“…how?”

“It is a natural remedy used on my home planet. A compound produced by these ants helps to kill harmful microorganisms that reside in my feathers.”

“So this is… normal, in your culture?”

“In a sense, yes. Usually, I would use what my people call ‘kubba rub-oo’ - loosely translated, it would mean…” he trails off as he mentally translates the words “...‘feather-cleanse’ - but I have been unable to find anything suitable on this planet. The natural method is slightly old-fashioned, but effective.”

Rick stares blankly for a few seconds before accepting this information. “Cool. You want coffee?”

“Indeed.”

Rick brews coffee for the two of them, serving Birdperson’s with no milk - god knows they’d already been through that fiasco - and two sugars, just as he likes it. Birdperson remains on the floor as they drink their coffee in companionable silence. 

Rick averts his eyes and decides not to comment when he sees Birdperson begin to pick ants from his feathers and pop them into his mouth. In a best case scenario, this could be an effective pest-control solution, but he’d rather not think about it too much. He sets the half-empty coffee mug on the table, unable to stomach the rest.

Birdperson doesn’t see Rick for the next few days, but assumes that the scientist has simply got himself wrapped up in a project. Since the Flesh Curtains are still struggling to book gigs, Rick’s absence doesn’t have a negative impact on the band, and it’s not unusual for Rick to disappear for days at a time, so Birdperson decides not to worry unless the other man doesn’t return soon. 

That evening, Birdperson walks into his room to find a bottle of unidentified deep red liquid and a note on his bedside table. The handwriting is familiar to him from lyric writing sessions and blueprints scattered haphazardly around the apartment. He picks up the note and begins to read.

BP,

I looked some stuff up and the main ingredient of kubba rub-oo is formic acid, with some stabilisers and then scents added in. That’s what this is. I know you like grenaberry so that’s what the scent is. Hope it works.

-R

Birdperson sets down the note and smiles. He picks up the bottle and sees a spray lid, then tilts it to confirm the liquid’s water-like viscosity. Both of these match his expectations, and he trusts his friend’s abilities, so he extends a wing and cautiously gives it a single spritz. The smell is sweet, but with a distinct and familiar sour undercurrent. Satisfied, Birdperson sprays the rest of his wing, then the other, followed by his head-feathers. The liquid feels cool and pleasant on his feathers, and he lets it soak in for a few minutes before padding to the shower to rinse it off.

The steam amplifies the scents and Birdperson’s breath catches for a second as he’s hit with a pang of homesickness. At first, he’s confused at his own emotions - after all, the reason he left his home world in the first place was that he always felt like an outcast there - but quickly finds the feeling replaced with gratitude at Rick’s gesture. His friend has taken the time to listen to him, learn about his culture, and try to recreate part of it as a present for him.

Birdperson spends the rest of the shower bobbing between bittersweet memories and a newfound depth of affection for his bandmate. He flutters his wings to let the water flow through his feathers and wash away the oil. 

Once he switches the water off, he stands with his wings outstretched for a few minutes, letting them dry. While he might use a towel for the rest of his body, feathers are always better to air dry.

As he exits the shower, he catches a glimpse of his outline in the steamed-up mirror and freezes. Something isn’t quite right about his appearance, and he can’t work out what until he shifts his weight slightly and sees a flash of dark pink at the edge of the mirror. Turning to look at his wings in disbelief, he realises Rick’s attempt at kubba rub-oo has dyed them. He wipes the condensation from the mirror to inspect his reflection more closely and finds that his head-feathers have also been discoloured. Being darker, the grenaberry hasn’t quite managed to turn them the same deep pink as his wings, but the colour difference is definitely noticeable. He even thinks his skin might be slightly pinker than usual.

Birdperson wraps a towel around his waist and exits the bathroom in pursuit of the living room, where he can hear Squanchy laughing as Rick protests.

“Oh, man, Rick, didn’t anyone ever tell you ‘don’t squanch too much or it’ll turn your palms red’?” Squanchy guffaws. “What were you even doing?”

“Sh-shut up! It was an experiment!”

As Birdperson rounds the corner, both Rick and Squanchy’s gazes turn to him simultaneously. The three stare at each other in silence for a moment before Squanchy cracks up. He chokes out what Birdperson assumes to be some sort of joke at his expense, but his laughter is so strong it renders his speech unintelligible.

Birdperson looks at Rick, expecting him to also be cackling, only to find the man staring at him intently, his cheeks pink in a way Birdperson doesn’t think has anything to do with the kubba rub-oo. 

“Rick Sanchez?” he asks, and this seems to snap Rick out of his reverie.

“O-oh, hey, Pers.” Rick chuckles guiltily. “I see you found my… present.”

Birdperson nods. “Indeed.”

Rick raises his hands up as if in surrender, showing their red staining. “Sorry. I, uh, I guess I didn’t realise grenaberry would stain.”

“Rick Sanchez, you went out of your way to learn about and recreate something from my homeworld on my behalf. This was extremely kind of you.” he ignores Rick pretending to vomit at this and places a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Rick freezes and looks away, his cheeks once again pink. “I-it was nothing. I couldn’t let you roll around on the floor with the ants, could I? A-anyway, I fucked it up.”

“I am very grateful.”

Rick mumbles something inaudible in response, still not making eye contact.

The three sit in each other’s company for a while, Squanchy chiming in regularly with yet another joke until eventually all of them are laughing about it.

After a while, Birdperson realises he should probably get dressed and excuses himself to his room. As he walks away, he hears Squanchy make a final comment to Rick that he doesn’t understand.

“Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

As it turns out, the staining on Birdperson’s wings lasts for quite a while. So long, in fact, that the Flesh Curtains have somehow managed to get themselves a gig before it starts to show any sign of fading.

“Man, Pers, at this rate you’re gonna be like that on the stage.” Rick teases him a few days before the show, lightly hitting Birdperson’s arm with the back of his hand. Birdperson has noticed a marked increase in Rick’s physical affection towards him lately.

“Don’t worry, I hear some people find it really hot!” Squanchy bursts out and Rick scowls at him. Birdperson is mildly confused by the interaction but brushes it off as Squanchy teasing him.

“Perhaps we should match.” Birdperson suggests, only half-joking.

“What, you think I should dye my hair?” Rick asks.

“I think it would suit you.”

Birdperson reaches out and fingers a lock of Rick’s hair, attempting to return the physical affection. Rick’s face turns red, as he’s seen it do before. Although blushing is a behaviour that’s present in his own species, he doesn’t want to assume that it means the same thing in humans, or indeed that it’s the same phenomenon at all. However, he can tell that Rick is embarrassed by it, so he enjoys trying to fluster him. Birdperson wouldn’t want to genuinely upset Rick, but he takes pleasure in teasing his friends, just as they do to each other. This sort of behaviour is not present in his culture, at least not as a means of expressing affection, but Birdperson finds that he likes it. Even though his homesickness seems to be returning more and more often these days, he finds himself continuously discovering new things that make him decide leaving was worth it. 

Rick agrees to dye his hair surprisingly readily, although no amount of cajoling can convince Squanchy to colour even a small part of his fur, insisting that it’s the key to attracting partners. He pops an unidentified pill and situates himself on the sofa in front of some sort of porn while Rick and Birdperson retire to the bathroom.

Since his initial attempt at kubba rub-oo, Rick has made another sample, this time using a flower he claims to be remarkably similar to the vanilla orchid of Earth for scent instead. Although Birdperson has begun using this one, he has kept hold of the original as well, and he brings it out now in lieu of hair dye.

“Rick Sanchez, before we begin, are you certain that this is not harmful to your species?”

“Yeah, BP, it’s fine, trust me.”

Rick pulls his shirt off over his head and Birdperson finds himself regarding his friend’s bare chest with interest. He’s used to the hair on Rick’s head, since it’s similar to his own feathers, and used to the fur covering the whole of Squanchy’s body, but he always forgets that humans have hair on other parts of their bodies as well. Similarly, he finds nipples extremely intriguing - while he appears to have them, they’re actually little more than markings on his chest, some sort of evolutionary leftover, giving him an illusion of humanity. The idea of these markings being something more - something with a function, something that’s an erogenous zone - excites him in a way he’s not sure he wants to admit to, even to himself.

Rick leans his head forward over the sink and Birdperson sprays the liquid into his hair, admiring the way the deep red drops of liquid stand out against light blue strands.

“How long d’you think I should leave this in for?” Rick asks, his voice slightly reverberating as he speaks into the sink.

“I only left it for a few minutes. I am not sure if that will be sufficient for you or not.”

The floor of the shower is still stained red, and Birdperson wonders if they should’ve done this in there instead of giving the landlord something else to charge them for when they move out, but the sink is easier, and it’s too late to change their plans now.

After a few minutes, the two decide they’ve waited long enough and Birdperson switches on the tap, cupping his hands and pouring the water over Rick’s head to help him rinse the oil from his hair.

“Shampoo.” he hears Rick mumble from underneath his mass of wet hair, and passes the bottle into Rick’s outstretched hand. Mammals, he’s found, can generally all use the same sort of product to clean their hair, although when he tried it on a small area of his own feathers, it didn’t wash out properly, leaving clumps. 

Rick lathers his head and Birdperson waits for him to finish before helping him wash it out. They repeat the process until the water running from Rick’s hair is clear.

Rick straightens up and flicks his hair back out of his face, before shaking his head and getting water everywhere, including on Birdperson. He grins at Birdperson cheekily, and Birdperson can’t help but find it charming. He passes Rick the towel quickly, hoping that the human won’t see his smile. He’s found that, although most species seem to struggle to read his emotions, Rick is unnervingly good at it, which Birdperson finds relieving and irritating in equal measure.

Rick roughly towels his hair dry, then flicks it out of his eyes so he can look at it in the mirror. It’s turned out more purple than pink, with some darker reddish streaks in places, but Rick grins anyway and Birdperson feels warmth rise in his stomach.

“I was right.” Birdperson murmurs.

“About what?” Rick asks.

“It does suit you.”

Rick’s face reddens once again and he fumbles with the towel, bringing it back up to his face in order to dry his hair. Birdperson frowns.

“Forgive me, Rick Sanchez, have I made you uncomfortable? I did not intend to.”

Rick freezes with the towel in front of his face for a few seconds before slowly lowering it.

“No, Pers, i-it’s fine. D-don’t worry about it.” Rick doesn’t seem to be telling the truth, but Birdperson doesn’t want to pry and risk making things worse. He stretches a wing out and holds it next to Rick’s head to compare the shades.

“We match now.” he says simply, and Rick grins at him. Birdperson feels his body relax as most of the tension rushes out, although a lingering worry remains. He never fit in on his home planet, didn’t understand social norms or have any friends there. While befriending aliens gives him a fair amount of leeway when it comes to social mishaps, he still feels the familiar fear of rejection sitting uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. Rick and Squanchy are the closest friends he’s ever had, and while Squanchy is fairly straightforward and easygoing, he’s all too aware of Rick’s mercurial nature, as well as the suffering that comes with being his enemy.

Besides, Birdperson feels an unusual attachment to Rick, in a way that’s markedly different to his friendship with Squanchy. Part of him knows exactly what it is, but he’s not quite ready to put a name to the feeling. His culture regards naming as a form of cage and, while he might agree with Rick’s perspective on that particular idea for the most part, he’s all too aware of the tendency labelling things has to make them far too real. Names are powerful things, and giving one to this feeling will tie him down in a way that he’s not prepared to commit to yet.

On the morning of the gig, Birdperson walks into the kitchen and is hit by an overwhelming chemical smell. His first thought is that there’s some sort of gas leak, either in their building or nearby. When he sees Rick sitting calmly at the table, he tries to still his panicked thoughts. Rick turns around to face him with a grin.

“Hey Pers! What do you think?” Rick stretches out a hand for Birdperson to inspect. His claws - nails, Birdperson corrects himself - are black and shiny, and he can see a bottle containing a liquid of similar appearance on the table.

“What is this?” Birdperson asks.

“Nail polish. You-you never heard of it?”

“My species does not have nails.” 

Rick rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. “You don’t paint your claws? Or-or talons, or whatever?”

Birdperson shakes his head. “No. What is the purpose?”

“It’s like makeup. Or like dyeing your hair.” he gestures to his hair and Birdperson’s wings.

“A form of self-expression?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Birdperson sits at the table and picks up the bottle, inspecting it.

“You wanna do the other hand?” Rick holds out his left hand, and Birdperson sees that the nails there are still plain.

“I… do not know how.”

“It’s easy! Just grab the brush and smear some on.” Rick pulls the cap off to reveal a brush, then hands it to Birdperson and stretches his hand out again. Hesitantly, Birdperson takes Rick’s hand in his own. He’s not sure if this is acceptable and glances up at Rick’s face to check. The other man is blushing faintly, but looks expectant. Birdperson adjusts his grip so that he’s only holding one of Rick’s fingers and begins daubing nail polish onto the nail. He’s not sure how much is required, so he puts on one coat and then looks over at Rick’s other hand to see if the two are close enough.

“Is… this acceptable?” he asks.

“Yeah! It’s great!”

Birdperson feels reassured and paints the remaining nails, starting to relax into the simple domesticity of the moment and the exciting yet grounding feeling of touch. Once he’s done, he pulls back uncertainly.

“What now?” he asks.

“Now, we wait for it to dry.”

Birdperson gets up and washes his hands, just to be safe. After all, this is an unfamiliar substance, and he doesn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Once they’re dry, he opens the fridge and pulls out a tub of grenaberries, holding them up to Rick and finding himself rewarded with a laugh.

As he sits down and begins eating, Rick leans back his head and opens his mouth. Birdperson stares for a second and then smirks.

“Are you a youngling?” he teases.

“Come on, Pers, I can’t eat when my nails are still wet. Feed me!”

“My people feed our young by regurgitating partially-digested food into their mouths. Is that what you wish for me to do?”

Rick kicks him playfully under the table. Birdperson takes a berry and holds it out just in front of Rick’s mouth in jest. Rick responds by leaning forwards and wrapping his lips around Birdperson’s fingers to eat the berry, pulling back with a shit-eating grin on his face as he chews. For once, Birdperson is the one who’s flustered. Now he understands how he must make Rick feel with his teasing.

“You are a cub rah bah, Rick Sanchez.” he admonishes. He’s fairly sure Rick doesn’t know what that means, but the other man cackles anyway, making Birdperson’s heart flutter in his chest.

Once again, Rick holds his mouth open expectantly and Birdperson feeds him another berry, then eats one himself. They continue in this manner for a while, until Birdperson is sure that the substance on Rick’s nails must have dried by now, but he finds himself putting another berry into Rick’s mouth regardless. 

The gig goes reasonably well - for them, anyway - and they’re in high spirits as they walk backstage. Squanchy almost immediately makes off in search of a woman he claims to have been ‘giving him the look’ for the duration of the show, leaving Rick and Birdperson alone together.

Rick begins his typical excited post-gig breakdown, listing their successes and complimenting Birdperson’s performance while his hands bounce in front of his chest and his fingers dance. Birdperson suspects that this might not be a behaviour that’s typical for humans based on the way he’s seen Rick react when he catches himself doing it, with the kind of shame that only comes from having an intrinsic part of yourself suppressed. Birdperson, always an outcast on his home planet, understands this feeling intensely, and so tries not to draw attention to Rick’s behaviour, even though he finds it adorable.  

“A-and, you know, we looked great while we were doing it!” Rick concludes in that half-joking, half-cocky way of his, indicating their dyed hair and feathers.

High on post-performance euphoria, Birdperson is filled with an uncharacteristic boldness and steps forward into Rick’s personal space, gently taking a lock of hair between his fingers.

“Yes, you did.”

Rick’s face turns redder than Birdperson has ever seen. Birdperson revels in the feeling of soft hair and their closeness to each other. He can see Rick staring at his lips and, without even meaning to, finds himself leaning in.

Apparently Rick feels the same way because the next minute they’re kissing, Rick’s lips surprisingly soft against his. Birdperson can taste the bitterness of the beer Rick had drunk before the show, smell the lingering hint of grenaberry on his hair.

When they pull back, both of them are breathing heavily. Birdperson is overwhelmed by a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Judging by Rick’s face, he appears to be experiencing a similar set of emotions.

“Rick.” Birdperson begins, but before he can put his thoughts into words, he’s interrupted by the sudden appearance of a stranger. 

They both jolt backwards from each other, caught in the act. Fortunately, the stranger doesn’t seem to notice. Xe’s a member of the predominant species on this planet, a scaly six-legged reptile, with a hard grey shell-like structure on xyr back, coming up to just below Birdperson’s waist.

“Hey, I’m Taub, best agent this side of Messier 31. I’ve got clients touring across all six major systems in this quadrant, and I think you guys showed some real promise tonight. If you sign with me, I’ll get you gigs all across the galaxy. So, how about it? You boys looking for an agent?”

Rick and Birdperson glance at each other conspiratorially, their kiss forgotten.

With Taub, the Flesh Curtains finally have a steady set of gigs for the first time in their existence. More than that, they have an actual tour. Taub has just sent across the list of locations and all three band members are sitting around the table, poring over it with interest.

“Oh, man, just listen to some of these places. Alpha-Betrium, Venzenulon-9, not to mention all of our home planets!” Rick exclaims. 

“You know, I wasn’t too sure about Taub at first, but xe’s really out-squanched xyrself with this.” Squanchy comments.

“And that’s not all! Check it out, boys!” Rick tears open a package to reveal black fabric. “T-shirts, motherfuckers!”

“Ooh yeah, gimme!” Squanchy reaches for it excitedly, checking out the illustration of the three of them on the front, then the list of tour locations on the back. 

While their drummer is preoccupied, Rick turns to Birdperson.

“Whaddya think, Pers. P-pretty cool, right?” he asks, and Birdperson can detect a hint of nervousness in his smile. Things have been slightly awkward between the two of them since their kiss, but they’ve been busy with the band now that things are moving forward, meaning that neither of them have brought it up. Birdperson wants to, but he keeps worrying that he’s reading too much into things or misinterpreting yet another cultural difference.

“Extremely cool.” he replies, placing his hand on Rick’s in what he hopes is a reassuring way. The other man blushes and pulls his hand back, and Birdperson is more confused than ever. He opens his mouth to apologise but Rick catches his eye and gives a subtle shake of his head.

“Don’t.” he mouths, his eyes flicking to Squanchy, who’s still distracted by the shirt, rubbing it against his face with an orgasmic expression. Birdperson doesn’t understand the situation, but the instructions are clear enough, so he drops it, not wanting to make things worse.

Rick paces up and down the floor of their rented tour ship, trying and failing to avoid thinking about a number of things. 

Firstly, things have been awkward between him and Birdperson ever since they kissed backstage, and while he knows he’s not helping matters, he can’t bring himself to say anything to Birdperson and risk having his heart broken or making things even more awkward, especially not while they’re on their way to their first gig of the tour, on his own home planet no less.

That brings him to the second issue. He hasn’t been back to Earth since before he met Birdperson and Squanchy, and he can’t deny the anxiety that sparks in the pit of his stomach at the thought of returning, despite knowing that their performance won’t bring them anywhere near his house. Rick’s hands alternately flap and curl into fists at his sides in response, and right there is his third issue.

He’s known his entire life that he’s not like most other people, and not just in the sense that he’s smarter than them. More specifically, he’s not like other humans, a fact that neither his parents nor his classmates had ever let him forget growing up. In response, he had used his incredible intellect and pattern-recognition skills to learn how to fit in around others. It had worked so well that he had adopted the mask almost full-time, only dropping it around a very select few people, all of whom are now dead. 

However, since most aliens have never met a human, let alone have any idea of how they’re supposed to behave, he’s fallen out of the habit of hiding his oddities lately. He’s had enough interspecies culture shock just with the other members of the Flesh Curtains, let alone aliens who are gobsmacked by behaviours such as blinking and laughing, that he’s long since decided to just do whatever the fuck he wants. However, it turns out that, like a too-tight shoe, once you take the mask off, it’s very hard to put back on. Although he’s not planning on spending too much time around other humans, he’s still nervous at the thought of being very openly weird in front of them. 

“Rick?” a voice from behind him breaks his spiral of anxiety and he snaps his hands guiltily to his sides as he turns to face Birdperson. Birdperson only recently seems to have realised he doesn’t need to use Rick’s full name every time, and Rick finds it almost unbearably intimate.

“Are you alright?” Birdperson asks.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” Rick knows instantly that Birdperson doesn’t believe him. While with anyone else he would double down on the lie, something about this man in particular manages to break through his defences. “Pers? C-can I… tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I, um… I’m not like other humans. There’s, there’s something… wrong with me. I don’t know what it is, but I could get by, especially once I left Earth and nobody knew if I was acting normal for a human or not, but you’re about to meet other humans for the first time and…” Rick trails off, not sure if he’s trying to hold back from admitting too much or building himself up to say it. Either way, the truth slips out. “I’m worried about what you’ll think of me once you realise how weird I am.”

Rick keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, fighting tears he wasn’t expecting. This is something he’s never told another person except Diane, and he wasn’t prepared for the emotions it’s stirring up.

“Rick.” Birdperson places a hand on his shoulder. “On my planet, I am also, as you might say, a weirdo. Until I met Squanchy, I had never had a friend. He told me there is a word for it in common, ‘autistic’.”

At first, Rick had found himself feeling relieved and connected to Birdperson, but hearing that final word makes something in him snap.

“I’m not fucking autistic.” he hears himself growl, his heart pounding in fear as he thinks of a cousin he had been told his whole life had died as a baby until one fateful argument with his dad had revealed that she had been sent away to an asylum for ‘the severely disturbed’, the place his dad had told Rick he should’ve been sent to. Rick feels a hot, sick rage bubbling up his throat, his body trembling with adrenaline.

“Rick.” Birdperson’s calm and concerned voice snaps him back to reality. 

“I’m not autistic.” Rick repeats, his voice shaking.

“Forgive me. I do not know what this means on Earth. I had not heard of this word until I left my planet. I merely wished to reassure you that I will not think you weird, no matter how different you are to other humans.”

A sob forces its way from Rick’s mouth, and he can’t believe he’s crying in front of Birdperson, but he can’t help himself. He feels Birdperson wrap his arms around him and clings to him tightly, sobbing against the other man’s bare chest. 

“It is OK, Rick. I am here. I will not leave.” Birdperson reassures him.

Rick fights to calm himself and steady his breathing. Eventually, he manages to stop crying, quickly wiping tears and snot from his face. He can’t bring himself to look at Birdperson.

“Come.” Birdperson instructs, gently but firmly, guiding Rick with an arm around his shoulders. Rick allows himself to be led to a bed, wrapping the blankets around his entire body like a cocoon. 

“Rick… I am sorry that I have upset you. It was not my intention.”

Rick sniffles and shakes his head. “I-it’s not your fault, Pers.” he mumbles. “It just… that word brought up some bad memories for me, that’s all.”

He feels Birdperson rest a hand on his arm and continues. “On Earth, people like me - like us - if people find out that’s what we are, they… they get sent away.”

“Sent away… from Earth?”

“No, just to another place on Earth. A… a bad place. If I hadn’t been smart, that’s where they would’ve sent me, too.”

“Are you in danger of this if we return to Earth?” Birdperson asks in concern.

Rick shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. They wouldn’t do that to me now. They couldn’t, even if they tried. But it happened to… to my cousin. I didn’t find out until I was older. My dad told me about it. He said it’s what should’ve happened to me.” 

Rick feels Birdperson squeeze his arm.

“My father was not supportive of me being different, either. I always felt as if I had to prove myself to him, but he was never happy with me, no matter what I did. I knew I was a source of shame to him.”

Rick lets out a humourless laugh and leans to rest his head against Birdperson’s shoulder. “Sounds like we both had shitty dads.”

“Indeed.” 

Birdperson wraps both an arm and a wing around Rick and rests his chin on Rick’s head. Even through his distress, Rick feels a rush of warmth in his abdomen at the gesture. 

“Do not worry, Rick. Even if anybody tried to harm you, I would not let them.”

Rick’s never felt so protected, and that’s the moment when he knows that his feelings for Birdperson are far beyond just a simple crush. He swears to himself that he won’t lose Birdperson, even if it means they’ll never be more than friends. Now, more so than ever, he resolves not to bring up the kiss in fear that it might jeopardise their relationship.

[i-need-some-advice-on]

I have a sweet friend whom I love very much. But as the years go by I'm becoming less and less sure that our morals and politics align. I'm scared of losing them but I'm also worried about the resentment that I'm slowly developing for them. Does anyone know how to deal with this kind of thing?

For context, my friend is studying to become a psychologist. In the past, I used to have the same opinions about therapy that most people in the majority demographic do - that "Therapy is good and psychiatry is a good and altruistic field, and if a bad therapist hurts someone then it's just that individual practitioner being a bad apple."

But I have a PD diagnosis, I've had previous (bad, as you can imagine) experiences with therapy. And I mean EXTREMELY bad, it threatened my safety in an abusive household and I was also in risk of forced institutionalisation once (That one was related to depression a lot more than any PD just to be clear.)

And as I educate myself more and talk to other people who were in similar situations, i get more and more anti-psych with time. It's not really a Few Bad Apples situation if the therapist(s) who hurt us were technically doing their exact job description and were actually adhering to their regulations. I have developed a huge mistrust for psychologists and therapists and like 50% of it is a knee-jerk personal trauma reaction and the other 50% is genuinely getting more socially conscious and knowing that I'd be treated even worse in a whiter country (which my friend is.)

They also tell me things about their actual psychology classes and every fact I learn unsettles me more. Their classes, teachers and entry level career paths are ALARMINGLY blasé, unprofessional and unethical than what you'd expect from such a serious profession.

My friend is a good person btw I am fully sure they're trying so hard to stay ethical and genuine even when their classes/grades literally inventivize them not to be. I know they're that one person in class who goes all in to make an original presentation while everyone who copied off the internet gets an A. But I just feel sad about how far this can really go, it's like seeing someone genuinely try to be a good cop.

I have known this person for a few years and I see them as a LIFELONG friend, I want to hang out with them when we're old and boring. But I just don't know if I will ever be okay with their education and future career, sometimes I'm actively scared of what their psychiatry books must have told them about people like me. Again, my friend has repeatedly reassured me that they're one of the good ones that don't hate or discrimate against certain disorders but I still believe it's a systematic issue. I'm scared of watching them turn into something else but at the same time I don't want to lose them. I also don't think I have any right to tell them what to do with their own life.

All my opinions about psychology here were purely to give you an exact idea of what I'm talking about! I don't want to start any discourse about the anti psych movement on this blog because that's not its purpose (thanks for this space btw op <3) I just didn't want people to assume that my friend was a right winger or something, and that's the only thing it sounds like if I leave it in vague terms. What do I do? Has anyone ever been in this kind of situations with a friend's beliefs and what did you do about it?

.

[the-habitat-sysblog]

DID WIN

today, when my therapist was discussing my future in therapy & what she would hope i will get from it, she said, "i would like you to see someone who can help you with your DID."

she believes me. :-) it feels really good.

having been, through all these years, to therapists that told me my symptoms were "just psychosis" or who had me institutionalised: it's just so lovely having someone who actually listens.

[dougielombax]

Even if you don’t believe that humans are particularly special (which is observably false) it’s our moral imperative to act within the interests of our species and our species alone. I.e human lives are foundationally more important than animal lives. And if you disagree then frankly you ought to be quarantined with the rest of the anti-humanist kind

Okay look.

I’m not anti-humanity.

I just think we need to to better to care for our world, it’s other inhabitants (animals and plants and the like) and the environment while also advancing ourselves. And not give into anthropocentric hubris. That’s all.

I’m all for advancing human society and ingenuity but not at the cost of the environment and ecosystem.

In the event of not doing so we would lose sight of ourselves and human civilisation would become a ghastly monstrous thing, devouring itself from within. Abandoning its morals and re-embracing dangerous ideas like eugenics.

It’s basic common sense. Without keeping them (environment, wildlife and the ecosystem) in mind too, society will end up going to complete shit.

Hence why we also need to take care of the environment and ecosystem. Not doing so will only end in ruin.

And that cannot be allowed to happen.

This is not up for debate. It is a fact. Irrefutably so. That kind of “humanity first at all costs” mindset cannot be allowed to persist as it leads to very dangerous places.

Hence why it needs to be quashed.

Otherwise we’ll end up ruining any hypothetical planets we may travel to in future. Like a bunch of ghastly, colonial-minded, murderous spacefaring fascistic locusts. Having learnt NOTHING in the process.

Any fool can see that.

And people like ME have been quarantined, institutionalised, vivisected and WORSE for long enough, thank you very much. (And quarantining people like me has only served as a detriment to human society)

(Heck, for the longest time, my own fellow man refused to see people like me as human)

So kindly throw that outdated shit in the bin with all the other useless practices and ideas. Like skull measuring, human sacrifice, lobotomies and trickle down economics.

Nobody is getting quarantined. Why would I? What’s next? Sterilisation?

So there.

[transmutationisms]

hiiii in one post about roman you said that he doesn’t take connor into account as much when comparing himself to his siblings but that kendall does! i’ve always wondered how bc to me they always feel like a nice potential of both being the eldest son but i feel like in reality they never do anything interesting with the two of them together (maybe 3x10 intervention scene. maybe) have you ever said anything abt their relationship?👀

i think i just meant that when roman is thinking about the family hierarchy, to him connor's not even a factor. connor was never someone who could 'put roman in his place' the way kendall and shiv could, because of the higher status they had in logan's eyes.

but kendall's position is in some ways more complicated than roman's, because even though he's the assumed heir, logan also thinks he's a flop, and kendall knows this, which makes him aware on some level of connor being a flop and what that might mean for his own future (cf. kendall calling himself and tom eunuchs). kendall's not a very generous person and not very good at seeing other people as actual people, and this general tendency in combination with a fear of being discarded like connor makes kendall pretty dismissive of connor most of the time ("i am the eldest son", "i am the eldest boy").

i find connor to be underused in general, and i'd agree there's not much onscreen between him and kendall. but there are a few interesting points of comparison with them. they're the eldest in age, and depending on the gap connor may have the most sibling-ish relationship with kendall. there's also the implication that connor was discarded partly because logan saw him as tainted after he had his mother institutionalised; there's obviously a continuity here to kendall having gone to rehab, which logan calls "the nuthouse", at least once, along with roman and shiv leveraging general accusations of "mental illness", "spiralling", &c against kendall. also, kendall and connor both have a penchant for spectacle and showmanship that roman and shiv lack, plus connor's reactionary social reformer type beat could have bounced really amusingly off kendall's neoliberal self-optimisation 'my body is a tool' situation.

[fizzyliciouss]

just found out that posters were put up in toilets in my university in singapore detailing how they have been funding and sending students and doing joint projects with Israel aerospace security sectors that have been used to develop weapons. wanna know what was done after? ntu immediately took them all down "they were not approved" they said. and then promptly filed a police investigation. OVER A FUCKING POSTER. our army also trains with isreali soldiers too btw but any backlash from this? no. cuz u can get sued and put into jail for breaking media laws. so fucking sick of the moral apathy that is so prevalent and normalised and institutionalised in singapore. seeing students all over the world stand their ground gives me so much hope because we are the future. fuck this country and their compliance for maintaining "diplomatic ties". fuck the universities that are literally ranked as the top in asia for preventing any discussion about the genocide. fuck the ppl who think this has nth to do with them so why shld they care right? it's the way that so many of my older gen x malay colleagues say nth and continue to get macs and starbucks. it's the way that so students in my uni were offended and annoyed that those posters were even put up. But you know what you can take our voices away but know we aren't going to be complicit in your evil. idc if we as students are even the minority, we will keep the conversation going. anyway for all countries out there that also have 0 freedom of speech, go get yourself a keffiyeh and wrap it around your bags.

[pimentogirl]

Day 10 of our prolonged NHS sleepover and both Boghead and I are thoroughly institutionalised.

He reacts to being woken by extending an arm for the blood pressure cuff and a finger for the sats clip.

I leap to my feet and am stood at his bedside before my eyes are properly open and I'm developing a pavlovian response for coffee everytime a trolley rattles.

I can also hum the exact tune of every single alarm and code on the monitors and drip pumps and predict to the hour when the current cannula will fail.

Not useful skills for a future on the outside I grant you, but I look forward to testing for NHS worker in the supermarket, by emulating the call button.

[whumpcloud]

made some forms and logs for when peter was being trained as a pet for worldbuilding/lore reasons <3 under the cut because Long

content: (institutionalised) pet whump, implied kidnapping, shock collars, muzzling, near-death, broken bones, restraints, sedation, memory loss, dehumanisation, general torture, implied noncon but not towards whumpee in particular

BASIC INFORMATION

ASSIGNED HANDLER: Westley Santana, #30716

DESIGNATION: Companion Service (as of 05/01/19)

PROCUREMENT METHOD: Pick-up

ASSIGNED NUMBER: 012994 032994 (as of 05/01/19)

PREVIOUS NAME: Finlay Noah Wright

AGE: Eighteen

SEX: Intersex (Klinefelter Syndrome)

GENDER: Male

ETHNICITY: White, Scottish

SKIN TONE: Light, warm undertones

EYES: Green

HAIR: Auburn

HEIGHT: 5'10

WEIGHT: 9st 9lb

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: Freckles.

MEDICAL EXAM

MEDICAL CONDITIONS

Klinefelter Syndrome - Does not need to be managed.

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder - Does not currently take medication. Should be manageable through training as 012994 already indicates restlessness and a desire to complete tasks.

Added 05/01/19 by W. S. #30716 - Due to designation change, '94's ADHD may pose an issue. Will be trained in memory retention methods and will encourage '94 to suggest ways in which specific issues may be mitigated. Do not use negative reinforcement in this area.

RESPONSE TESTS

EMOTIONAL: N/A - see notes. Added 19/01/19 by W. S. #30716 - Responds best to positive reinforcement. Usual response to positive stimuli is happiness. Negative reinforcement to be used only when aggressive. Usual response to negative stimuli is crying.

MENTAL: Overwhelmed by bright lights and loud noises. Easily fatigued.

PHYSICAL: Flinches often, even when calm. All body parts function normally. Scar on the underside of chin due to a childhood accident. Underweight, full and consistent meals recommended.

SEXUAL: N/A - see notes

ADDITIONAL MEDICAL NOTES

012994 had to be restrained and sedated for the majority of the exam. As such, the medical examiner was only able to complete the physical and mental response tests. It is recommended that other response tests are carried out after wiping, if necessary.

MEDICAL EXAMINER: Cara O'Malley, #61214

OTHER STAFF PRESENT: Westley Santana, #30716, Nathan Carrigan #10818

REASON FOR OTHER STAFF: Safety - 012994 displayed violent and aggressive behaviour before, during, and after the exam.

TRAINING

RELEVANT SKILLS

Cleaning - worked part-time as a cleaner for two years.

LITERACY

L-3

To be kept

Added 05/01/19 by W. S. #30716 - Literacy in medical areas to be increased.

SKILLS TO BE TRAINED

Socialisation

Conversation

Domestic work

Emotional suppression

Friendly behaviour and taking initiative (to be encouraged through positive reinforcement)

Added 05/01/19 by W. S. #30716 - Medical training to be added: types of medication, administration of medication, surgery aftercare, emotional de-escalation (particularly in terms of anxiety), physical de-escalation (do NOT train until after aggressive behaviours have been eliminated)

METHODS

Both positive and negative reinforcement depending on the behaviour in question.

Added 05/01/19 by W. S. #30716 - Any and all methods to be used, at handler's discretion.

SCARRING?: Added 05/01/19 by W. S. #30716 - No preference

ADDITIONAL NOTES: N/A

SIGNING

I, Finlay Wright, relinquish my former identity and life to Petrix. At time of signing, I am of age to consent, fully lucid, and completely aware of what I am signing and why. See Form #06 for full legal terms and conditions.

PET SIGNATURE: F. N. Wright

HANDLER SIGNATURE: Westley Santana

LAWYER SIGNATURE: E. Fisher

TIME & DATE OF SIGNING: 13:48 PM, 01/09/18

HANDLER NOTES:

Apologies for appearance in photograph. '94 lashed out and had to be muzzled and restrained for handler and '94's own safety. Will be muzzled and shock collared for the foreseeable future. W. S. #30716, 11/08/18

Designation changed to Service. Assigned Number changed accordingly. W. S. #30716, 05/01/19

—

HANDLER LOG

Main Handler: Westley Santana #30716

Other Handlers: Nathan Carrigan #10818 (BANNED from handling 032994's training as of 21/02/19, see Entry #8)

#1 Mentoring Nathan Carrigan #10818. Allowing Nate to oversee parts of '94's training, with supervision obviously. '94 bit me during medical examination. W. S. #30716, 11/08/18

#2 Wiped today, immediately after signing. Aggressive and violent behaviours still present, despite expected disorientation and memory loss. Somehow '94 still thinks something is wrong, though '94 doesn't actually seem to know what it is. Working on it. Will send '94 to be wiped again if necessary. W. S. #30716, 01/09/18

#3 Initial buyer dropped their offer because it's taking too long. '94 is still aggressive and violent. Waiting on the go ahead to train '94 as a Serv. Need more of those but mostly need to see the little fucker taken down a peg. W. S. #30716, 28/12/18

#4 Designation changed from Comm to Serv. Muzzle removed due to promisingly good behaviour. W. S. #30716, 03/01/19

#5 Wes got attached and decided to buy '94. I think he just likes the challenge. Additional notes made to info form by Wes. N. C. #10818, 05/01/19

#6 '94 managed to break Nate's pointer finger. '94 is now muzzled until further notice. Do not let '94 trick you into sympathy. '94 will bite. W. S. #30716, 17/02/19

#7 Wiped again due to violence. It didn't help. N. C. #10818, 18/02/19

#8 Nate nearly killed '94. Will no longer mentor him and will ban him from interacting with '94 in the future. Recommend extending Nate's probation, if not firing him outright. Luckily '94 is unscarred and should heal completely within the next month. W. S. #30716, 21/02/19

#9 Think the near-death experience scared '94. '94 is much more obedient and willing, and though still has bouts of aggressive behaviour, is no longer violent. Working on it. W. S. #30716, 07/03/19

#10 Emotional suppression training is going exceptionally well. Almost proud now that '94's stopped being a mouthy little fucker. Shock collar has been removed. W. S. #30716, 29/03/19

#11 Had a panic attack during training. '94 immediately responded and stepped up to assist. Unplanned, but shows how much progress '94 has made. '94 is extremely eager to be doing something helpful, though this means that leaving '94 alone causes anxiety and restlessness. However, as a side effect, '94 is consistently grateful to see me and has begun to ask for tasks unprompted. Useful. W. S. #30716, 14/04/19

#12 Training completed to my standards. Bringing '94 home today. W. S. #30716, 25/04/19

#13 Darling '94 remembered previous name. Had to bring in for a wipe. Unfortunate. W. S. #30716, 08/10/19

taglist: @whumpsday @roblingoblin285

[ryttu3k]

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Dot and Bubble!

You know what, it's a bold new choice on Doctor Who to go, "Actually, this entire pastel-washed Celebration-meets-Tiktok society probably should die" but I can't say it's like. Entirely wrong in this case. Can't help someone who's so thoroughly wedged up their own arse (or stuck in their own bubble, ofc) they actively refuse help due to their own bigotry, y'know?

Actually, it's very much an 'offering mercy to the enemy' kind of thing. Which, historically, hasn't tended to go great either. It just hits a little different because we spent the entire episode focused on Lindy's storyline that we go, "Oh, she's the protagonist" and it's only at the end that we really get confirmation of, "Ah. She's the enemy." Although, in fairness, the endless microaggressions piling up culminating in killing Ricky was a pretty big hint, so…

Kind of refreshing that the first episode in which the Doctor's skin colour comes up is set in the future, which normally are pretty free of like. Racism and bullshit like that. Like Martha, Bill, Yaz, and Ryan all mention racism being an issue in historical episodes, Thirteen only gets talked down because of her apparent gender in a historical. You kind of make this assumption that even if there are still massive issues in the future, something like race isn't one of them. Only, it is. And Fifteen is the one to come up against the brunt of it. Any other Doctor, and the entitlement may have shown, but the racism may have stayed hidden (unless, again, Martha, Bill, or Yaz and Ryan as companion). Fifteen, however, gets them to show their asses just by virtue of existing. He was literally trying to save their lives!

Quote from RTD: "The moment we cast Ncuti, everyone said to me, "Oh my god, what's it going to be like when he goes into the past? Because a Black Doctor's going to face such racism." You sit there going, "What about now? Why do you think that racism's only in the past, when you look at what's happening to the world?""

Did come across as very nihilistic, ending-wise. RTD has said this episode was Black Mirror-influenced, and yeah, can definitely see that. You know what, that planet and the Finetime community are doomed. The planet's population is gone, a good chunk of Finetime's population is gone (or couldn't be led to safety, in which case it's only a matter of time), and lbr these kids only learned to walk a few hours ago. I would be amazed if they lasted a week playing Pioneers outside. And there's nothing that the Doctor can do, because they're so entrenched in their own racism that they refuse the literal lifeline he's throwing to them!

Conclusion: Fascinated how they went from, "Social media bad!" and "Killer AI!" to, "Actually, maybe social media isn't the problem and maybe, just maybe, it's people being so obsessed with staying within their literal bubbles that they begin to systematically dehumanise anyone who doesn't 'belong'" and also, "Actually yeah I'm kinda going for the AI deciding that the best way to deal with institutionalised and entrenched racism and bigotry is to kill them all with giant slugs."

(I mean, if the Dot AI could see how literally everyone was, I assume they realised they wouldn't accept a sapient AI as a new life form…)

Acting: Not quite as Doctor-lite as 73 Yards, this was more… Diet Doctor and Companion. That said, what we did get from Ncuti Gatwa was goddamn masterful. His reaction when he realises what's going on the end was heartwrenching - the disbelieving laughter, then the anger and frustration. So goddamn good. That said, Callie Cooke as Lindy was obnoxious and thus perfectly acted. Like at the beginning you were lowkey hoping she'd get her head out of her arse, and by the end you were hoping she'd get eaten :D Also enjoyed Tom Rhys Harries as someone who's been raised in the bubble but is at least trying to start just… slowly stepping out of it, only to be violently rejected by the rest of the bubble.

Continuity: Another Susan Twist! This time, actually called out! You know, there are two possibilities here, and both are extremely funny: 1) RTD intentionally cast an actor named Susan Twist to appear in every episode in order for her multiple appearances to foreshadow a twist revealing Susan Foreman, or 2) RTD intentionally cast an actor named Susan Twist to appear in every episode in order for her multiple appearances to have absolutely nothing to do with Susan Foreman and the repeated appearances are something else entirely. Either way, it's goddamn hilarious.

Nothing on Ruby's backstory this week, including a lack of snow. Ruby did feel somewhat unimportant here, she was only really there to make Lindy actually listen, because she's white and blonde and therefore Like Them and therefore worthy of listening to, and could have been replaced by any other young white companion, like Rose or Clara. If it had been the Doctor on his own, or Martha, Bill, or Yaz and Ryan as companions (or potentially even Donna, who might have got caught by ageism?), Lindy would have just kept blocking and blocking and never, ever listening.

The Big Bads of the season continue to oscillate between the possible Pantheon (the Toymaker, Maestro, possibly Mad Jack/the Fairies?) and just. Humanity. The humans who forced babies to be born then abandoned them, the military industrial complex, nuclear ambitions (the only one so far not set very far in the future), and now pastel-washed white supremicists. Very much a 'yeah, humanity definitely still hasn't solved these issues yet' kind of thing.

The 'stories being real' theme was handled kind of obliquely. Still definitely there, but it was a human consequence of being stuck in their own bubbles/narratives and being unable to see or accept anything outside it, and less a metatextual example like with other episodes.

Season ranking

As of s40e05:

73 Yards

The Devil's Chord

Dot and Bubble

The Church on Ruby Road

Space Babies

Boom

[gurorori]

tw ed, weight talk, numbers idk don't click if yr bothered but i will keep talking abt my recovery process as well as effects ed dat r still present

i am so so happy so far. 2 again b actively gainin weight so far it is makin me feel hopeful 4 the future n i really can't believe smth i thought i cud only achieve thru institutionalised recovery programs (cuz we've been back to eatin pretty normally 4 years but our weight jus never caught up 2 us n was stuck at ~39) decided 2 sort itself out on its own in our body after over a decade of unrelenting disorder... idk if dats a good thing or not or if it's gonna b a long term success but im still happy :[ we r at 50 rn n it's honestly jarring 2 think we hadn't been over 42-ish in like a decade. i hope this means good things 4 our body n overall health

so far our hair has definitely nawt.. gone back 2 normal' it's still comin out in heaps when i shower but i think it's kinda goin downnn? i can't rly reliably tell...

our gut health thi is better than ever i rememebr jus how chaotic eating wld b in our teens. we still have gastritis n all but gawd our tummy wld b so sensitive n near everythin wld make it hurt so so so so bad esp cuz it was jus not used 2 food anymore. so im glad 2 b slowly movin away from dat :']

[feral-cockroach]

MASSIVE TW FOR SELF HARM

ive been clean for almost a full year. maybe just over at this point, i dont know. but all (and i mean ALL) of my scars were fully healed and some were even fading into those little white lines that are barely visible on your skin.

and i relapsed tonight. ive been fighting it for weeks now but realistically i knew it was going to happen eventually. i feel so, so hopeless. nothing is working out and i cannot convince myself that things will improve. its a feat to just talk myself out of suicide every morning at this point.

im so fucking sick of everything. i mean honestly what is the point? im barely making rent, im going to lose my home in october of next year, ive got no car, no license, i can't afford groceries most of the time with absolutely no help from anyone around me. im scared. im tired and im alone.

i havent self harmed in a year or over and the worst of it was 3 years ago. except im getting back to that point i was at 3 years ago and i cant afford institutionalisation again. even if i could i dont want to go back. they held me for a week and then gave me a caretaker and then took away my caretaker when i turned 18 and then when i found myself a new therapist they completely cancelled my insurance with no warning and then denied me when i tried to reapply. ive been without insurance for a year in march.

im fucking terrified and i hate it here and i cannot do this shit much longer. i just cant. i dont know how much more fear and paranoia and justified upset one guy can fucking take !!!!

i just wish my father hadnt stalked and coerced my mom and i wish my moms mom wasnt such a pro life piece of shit and i wish my mom hadnt developed such an attachment to her abuser to convince herself that having a child was a good idea and i ESPECIALLY wish that my mom hadnt completely discarded me when we left my father and then immediately started dating new men every fucking week my whole life ive never known her to be single

and i love my mom !!!! but my mom does NOT love herself !!!!! and my mom HAS TO HAVE validation from men !!!!! and ive spent the past FOUR YEARS trying to have a relationship with her and she wants absolutely nothing to do with me and it SUCKS !!!!

it sucks so fuckinf much that EVERY SINFLE PERSON involved in bringing me into this SHITHOLE wants NOTHING TO DO WITH ME because i didnt end up how THEY WANTED ME because GOD FORBID I BE FUCKINF TRAUMATISED BY WHAT THEY ALL PUT ME THROUGH.

and im so , so angry. and scared. im so scared. im not sure when im going to kms but honestly, if i look to the future, thats all i see. thats all i have ever seen since i was 12 years old when i first self harmed. thats almost an entire decade of self harm. and i was convinced i wouldnt hit 16 or 18 or 21 and im about to hit 21 and every year it was "if i make it to [16/18/21] i wont make it to 30" and here i am at 21 and you know what

i wont. i dont think im going to make it to 30. by my own hand or my fathers or capitalisms i dojt fucking know but i will not live to see 30. i am certain

and it is the only thing i have ever been certain about my entire life.

[section-69]

Sometimes it seems like there is no mental health care in The Trek Utopian Future except maybe you can get a couple of counselling sessions if you're suicidal. And they seem to have a lot of stigma around mental illness and etc.

It really does. I tend to fall on the side of "this is because the writers were poorly informed" rather than "the problems shown by certain characters are indicative of an in-universe Problem", mostly because of stuff like Disco being better at it, Bones talking about psychiatry and telling Kirk off for overworking, Miles getting therapy, Chakotay taking meds... etc etc etc. There's enough hints of it for me personally to think that outside of specific Big problems (institutionalisation of augments, for example) the anti-psych bias is specific to certain beloved characters.

That being said I've been thinking of writing something about how it's expected to not feel traumatised by Starfleet induced trauma, because you should have known all this bad stuff was going to happen when you signed up. Rotating it in my mind.