Sean

Welcome to my blog. I post whatever I want

I'm a darkshipper and do roleplays and posts relating to that. Prefer 18+ in these parts for that reason

I'm part of a mixed origins system. Anti-endos can find the door.

I also write. Thats involving not so great topics of abuse, suicide, sexual topics such as hard vore, cnc, and bdsm, drug usage, and whatever else I think of. Mostly that though.

However other parts of the system enjoy other topics. Ask around. See if one is interested. We'll all end up responding anyway :)

Continuing from my last post, I can now look back at my clearly mentally ill and child self and understand that I was not abused due to a moral failing. It's because he's an asshole who had no compassion or understanding of a mentally disabled child.

Hell, there was even a time where I broke down and wrote out every single reason, there were about a dozen, I thought I had been beaten that month and hid it in my drawer. They found it and confronted me about it. They were mad at ME for apologizing for liking shrimp instead of the real reason I got beaten which they never actually explained during their rant. Because I totally already knew. This piece of paper did not make them question any parenting choices.

My family has known me my whole life. They describe me as "odd" and understand that I fundamentally don't grasp certain linguistic concepts. They accept that I'm different from the rest of them. Even though one of the first things most people assume about me is autism.

                  The meeting started. High ranking officials filed into the well- lit room. They filled the second and third rows of the small auditorium he found himself in. After them was the general public. He didn’t understand why they were here. It was mostly teenagers. His four eyes scanned the crowd of his peers in age, grimacing at every pair of horns he saw. Most were small nubs. A few were long. He calculated how many years it would take to grow each pair. A few years for nubs and at least a decade for the full horns. His brow furrowed at the calculation. Did the nubs start late? Or are they hospitality? He never understood hospitality. They were always so upbeat and friendly around the officials. 

He jumped as the bizarre beeping noise was heard from the hall again. He swore it just went off a few minutes ago. Everyone in the audience of this presentation watched him react to something nobody else reacted to. The doors to the auditorium shut. The lights above the seats shut off. The lights above the stage somehow got brighter, making it impossible to see into the crowd. Three short buzzes from his collar stiffened his posture as he looked straight ahead, the lights turning everything white as the sound of familiar boots from the left side of the stage approached. 

Sean shot up in a cold sweat. He turned left to face the digital clock on his nightstand. It was 17:14. He then turned right to see the sun setting out of his window. He slept all day again. With a curse, Sean got up for the day. The wooden floors of his room were permanently covered in dark stains. He stood there, scratching one of his bird claws into the floor in long straight lines. After listening to the wood be scratched for a few seconds, he smirked and walked out of the room into the carpeted hall. He looked at all of the closed doors of his neighbor’s empty rooms in disappointment. Maybe they went without him. That wouldn’t be unlike them.

He walked through the hall, down the building’s stairs, and out the front door, determined to catch up with them. He was even more disappointed when he saw nobody but the strangers wandering around. They really did leave without him. No matter. All he had to do was cross the road, get to the bridge, and cross the river.

The bright lights weren’t as bad anymore. The voice of his owner and the presenter was suddenly all he could focus on.

“S6-20 is this phenomenon taken to its natural conclusion”

He always hated that name. He preferred literally anything else. It was too technical. Too… dehumanizing. Even if he wasn’t human. Was he even human? Something to ask Max when he gets back. 

“His wings show his power and connection to the gods.” 

Sean’s scream died in his throat as he felt nonexistent calloused hands fondle his broken wings. All plans to meet his neighbors died as he stumbled across the busy roadway in front of his apartment building. Cars honked but he couldn’t hear it.

“S6-20 has been gifted with an incredible healing ability.” The presenter pulled out a pocketknife.

He couldn’t resist as the presenter grabbed his wrist and cut through layers of skin, fat, and muscle. His glowing red blood with orange glitter bubbled up and poured from the damaged artery. A small puddled formed on the floor. The general public gasped. The officials only watched. He could tell they enjoyed it. 

As quickly as the wound was carved, it started to seal. Fully sealing in a matter of minutes. The only evidence that there was ever an injury was the blood still dripping from his arm. The man dropped his arm, leaving it to swing back into position at his side. 

Objective reality isn't a thing. Reality is warped by past experiences and differences in sensory imput.

Declaring that somebody's genuine experiences aren't real because it goes against your interpretation of the reaility of these experiences is a wild take. This is how they perceive themselves and the world. You can't fucking gatekeep that.