i said this on in the tags of that one post but. i think some people think its abuse to display any big (negative) emotion. being really angry or scared or upset or suicidal in front of someone else. a spiral or a mental breakdown or something. it really isnt. of course, a big display of anger or spiralling COULD be weaponized by an abuser, but your traumatized friend having a flashback and breaking down is not abusing you for not being able to power through. a lot of the time, those big emotions are coming out because someone has been on the brink for too long, and they lost control, and it all comes out as crying or shaking or something. but thats not the same as abuse.
its going to be situational, but people having big emotions in your vicinity are not necessarily abusing you :/
Kabr0z Writes Episode 210: Another Quality Product
Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!
Some more episodes went up on Ao3 over the weekend! Check them out!
CWs: hypnosis; loss of agency; loss of self; brainwashing;
A/N: Another one where sex doesn't happen, but at the same time I feel like there's at least one of you who gets off on un-personing and identity removal, so yeah. Have fun 😉
###############################################
Three weeks ago, you signed up to be a product tester. You weren't really expecting anything to come of it, maybe getting a few random tchotchkes every ap often. Imagine your surprise when the first email you got was a state-of-the-art virtual reality headset.
The hardware was impressive, apparently, it boasted of being powerful enough to not need a connected computer, and had a battery life that you doubted was a real figure. You weren't much one for video games, at least not beyond that one farming game, so you probably wouldn't be the most useful reviewer, but it did say it came pre-loaded with some cozy games, so that might be nice.
You made sure to be in when it arrived, a shoebox-sized parcel wrapped in unassuming brown paper. It was only when you took off the outer packaging did you see the gaudy black and magenta design of the box itself, proudly proclaiming its identity “another quality Creadle & Crabnuts product”
Well, you'd be the judge of that. Literally, that's why they sent it to you. Leafing through the manual it seemed simple enough. Put on the headset, press the button on the side and it would walk you through calibration. From there, you could get into a so-called “lifetime of mindless entertainment”
You sniggered a little at that. The tech's all in beta, they warned you about that when you signed up. You made a mental note to let them know that apparently, so was the manual.
The headset went on easily enough. For something with potentially days of battery life, it wasn’t heavy at all. The strap was snug, but comfortable. The mask piece was cushioned against your face, blotting out any light from outside the device.
You touched the button on the side, one delicate finger clicking in the disk on the side of the mask. Cameras on the outside of the device connected, feeding a slightly greyscale view of your room to tiny screens in front of your eyes.
A voice started in your ears. A woman, speaking in a low monotone. A gentle hum accompanied her voice
A pair of options floated in space before you. One above the other. Continue or Power Off. Well, you’re not going to stop with this thing right after putting it on, so fuck it. Continue.
“Acknowledged. Scanning memory allocation.”
You stumbled. You'd heard of people getting motion sickness when using these things, but not quite like this. Normally they're playing a game or something, not just setting it up. Your head was swimming, like something was rifling through it. You screwed your eyes shut, stars bursting behind your eyelids.
Then it passed.
“Memory test completed. Projected integration nominal. Proceed with next steps.
That wasn't a request. One option hung in the air.
Accept Changes and Continue.
You’d selected it before you knew what you were doing. Then it started. Your thoughts became fuzzy, just for a moment. A new prompt opened, asking for your name. You scoured your mind, but it wasn't there. A wave of icy panic went through you. What was your name? You grasped for your phone, that could tell you.
“No cheating”
The voice again. You found the smooth rectangle of glass and aluminium in your pocket, but you couldn't pull it out. You couldn't even grip it. Every time you tried to close your fingers around it, they disobeyed. You kept trying, but every time you failed. Fine. It wanted your name. You'd guess.
The first name that came to mind. Sarah.
A loud buzzer. Nope, that's not it. Apparently.
Ok, try again. Mary? Doesn't sound like you, but it's as good a chance as any.
That buzzer again. Louder.
Again and again you tried. The buzzer got louder and louder. You tore off the headset.
The words were still there. Hanging in place. You tried one more time. The buzzer was in your head. You laughed. You laughed and you laughed. You started entering random letters, desperately grasping for something, anything. The buzzing kept going. Laughter turned to screams, to sobs, to begging. Please, let you know who you are. Let you find out. Tell you.
“Kneel”
What? It was that voice again. Your knees hit the ground. Your back was straight, arms crossed behind you, face tilted up.
“Good girl.”
You inhaled. Slowly, languidly. Your lungs filled as euphoria flooded through your mind. You know who you are. You always knew. You're the good girl. Good girls do what the nice lady tells them.
“I'm a good girl” the words felt so natural. You were made for them. To live up to them. To aspire to them. To embody them.
“Good girls don't wear clothes.”
The voice was right. The voice was always right. Good girls don't wear anything but what their owner tells them to, and you hadn't been told to wear anything, so you mustn't wear anything. You didn't waste any time, tearing yourself out of your clothes until you were once again kneeling, arms behind you, head tilted up, looking at an owner who wasn't there.
There wasn't a response this time. “Good girl?” You offered the words to the silence. There wasn't a reply. What were you doing wrong? Why wasn't the nice lady saying you're good? You racked your brain, thinking as hard as you could.
That was it. Thinking. You need to do less of that. It's not your job to think. That's what you have the voice for. Your eyes closed. You focused on nothing. Just the faint humming left in your ears. Nothing but your breathing. Clearing your mind. A blank slate. No thoughts, only kneeling here. No desires. No anxieties. No thoughts.
"We’re all animals in the end, are we not? We crave the satisfaction of blood and violence. But we’re not just animals, not at all; we’re social animals. We seek camaraderie, the sight and touch of another. The only thing more enticing than a bloody victory is connection. And we here at Showfall give the thousands of people within our devoted audience a chance to feel that connection!"
Following the finale of Hetch’s “Social Experiments”, Ranboo is repurposed as “The Devourer” — a bestial antagonist in Hetch’s latest production, which stars beloved returning cast member, Charlie, as Showfall’s newest Hero.
The Vagabond might have stayed there in the rain, standing for eternity on a rooftop in a dead city surrounded by empty utilitarian husks, soulless machinery, and the equally lifeless bodies of people he used to know – himself included – had one last living being not joined him atop the roof
