#I'm figuring out common problems in real-time

[k3n-dyll]

♱Sinful Deeds

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 18+, wlw, fem!reader, lots of religious themes, internalized homophobia, religious guilt, sex in a church, cheating, blasphemy, reader's husband is an ass, dom!Abby, sub!reader, inexperienced!reader (with women), oral(r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), spit, corruption (?)

𝐖𝐂 - 3k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ Read the content warnings, if it's not your thing just scroll ♡ . Also can't lie, I rushed the end a little I'm sorry I need to clear my drafts.

Priest!Abby who worked hard all her life to get where she is. Under her father's encouragement, she's made a good name for herself within a small community in this town. Despite setbacks, of course. To be ordained a priest, and to be a young woman is to be criticized - she'd known that from the beginning. Many people consider her a fraud. Consider her a disgrace amongst the church. Initially, her ordination damn near started a riot in front of the very chapel she preaches in.

That, she figured, would be the worst of it. The defamatory statements and the nasty rumors spread about her character and her morals; many families that had originally attended the church back when her father ran it either reluctantly accepted her or left the congregation entirely.

She had her days, of course. Where the rude comments and the disrespect nearly got to her. Nearly caused her to drop any semblance of professionalism within her body and let herself get angry. But with her trust in God and her strength of faith - all of the bitterly uttered words about her, the vitriol thrown her way - it slid right off of her like water off of a ducks feathered back.

If you were to ever ask her, she'd say that her real problems began with you. The day you had walked into the chapel in the midst of her sermon which was - ironically enough - pertaining to marriage, and sat down with your husband in the very back pew so as not to disturb anyone with your tardiness. It's almost shameful how vividly she remembers the dress you'd worn that day; a pretty, pale yellow number that stopped just above your ankles. The color combined so beautifully with your skin and brought out your eyes even from her place up front, the pleats of the modest dress flowing around your legs with each quiet step you'd taken. She'd been so tempted to take her speech elsewhere to get a better look at you. Tempted to stray from her stance behind the pulpit just to stare at you up close.

Temptation. The issue you had brought with your presence alone. Abby couldn't blame you, of course, she'd been dealing with these urges since she was a teenager and well...she's not perfect by any means. She's had her fair share of one-night stands and flings - a much looser version of herself that she normally keeps well hidden from the members of her church.

She'd been damn near giddy when she finally got the chance to speak to you once the service was over, only to find herself disappointed again at the way your husband seemed to interject himself into any conversation she attempted to start with you.

"Hello..." She said, a small smile plastered on her lips. Despite the way she had trained herself to speak to every person in the church with a similar, if not the same amount of intrigue and attention, her eyes never once left you as she spoke. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting either of you before?" You nodded, offering a polite smile back to her, but before you could even open your mouth to say something, your husband had piped up, introducing himself first, and then you as his wife.

Over time, Abby began to notice that it's a quite common behavior for your husband - the man often using your learned timidity as an opportunity to speak over you at every turn. And he often gets his way.

She'd seen it before. In the church, it's a tale as old as time; a man on a power trip marries a young woman who's likely been taught how to be a good and 'proper' wife from the moment she was born - quiet, submissive, a pretty doll that he can have on his arm but never actually have to listen to.

Priest!Abby who, after giving her sermons, preaching to others about self-control, and willing themselves against sin - finds herself with her hand stuffed down her boxers late at night in her bed, thick fingers curled deep into her pussy, a small, pink bullet pulsating in the other against her clit, touching herself to the thought of you. You're so sweet, and quiet, and delicate... and breakable. The image of you beneath her naked, writhing and panting underneath her touch is so clear in her mind, the blonde practically whimpering as she cums at the thought of your pretty body being so overwhelmed with pleasure that you shake and twitch at the lightest brush of her fingers.

She figured she'd never have you. As much as she craved it, as much as she wanted to trail her hands along your bare curves, Abby knew well in her mind that you would stay loyal and dedicated to the man you married. Still, the day you come to her alone with the intent to confess, excitement wells up in in her at the potential opportunity.

Saturday afternoons for Abby were generally the same, spending her time sitting on the other side of the partition in the small confession booth and listening to the perceived wrongdoings of those in her congregation. Most of the time she doesn't remember. She doesn't even put in the effort to recognize the voices of those she advises, as figuring out who committed what sin and who didn't isn't really what she's here for, but the moment she hears your voice - that soft, melodic tone of yours that she's fantasized about for weeks on end - she can't seem to help herself.

You aren't used to this kind of thing - it's never gotten this bad to the point where you feel you need to confess...but you can only run from your own mind so much. The silence is deafening as you settle yourself into the booth, and it only serves to make you more nervous. You can hear the subtle sound of Abby's breathing, the rhythmic thumping of your own heart pumping. Shakily, you sign the cross over your body, nipping at the very tip of your thumbnail before you speak.

"Forgive me...for I have sinned" you murmur. "This...this is my first confession."

You speak a lot more than you had originally intended, spilling your guts to the woman on the other side of the screen, the somewhat private setting making it easier for you to let go of everything you'd been suppressing. Abby's almost shocked to hear about your struggles with your urges. Your desires to be with someone that isn't your husband. With someone that isn't even a man in the first place. Years of training herself is the only thing that stops her from showing her irritation at the way you deem these things deeply immoral as well as, selfishly, her elation at the idea that she may have a chance.

Abby is silent for a moment after you finish speaking, letting herself sit with her thoughts, trying and failing not to allow her own greedy desires consume her mind though unbeknownst to her, her quiet only causes the pit of dread in your stomach to swell. It's when she clears her throat that you tense up even more, preparing yourself to be scolded, or worse, kicked out. You've seen it happen before - people shunned and shamed for so much as thinking of the same sex in that way.

"You aren't in any trouble child, calm down." She says finally and you realize you've been tapping your nails rhythmically against the wooden wall. Though she can't see you, you nod and stop, transferring the little assault to your thigh.

Abby knows full well that she should just wrap this up. She should give you something to do - tell you to say a prayer, to beg Christ for mercy on your soul in hopes that these 'immoral' thoughts stop weighing on you, but Abby of all people knows that it doesn't work that way. Not with this.

Before Abby can stop herself, she's already asked you up to her office, shocked by the lack of resistance to her request. Closing the door behind her, she stands, eyeing your frame as you take a seat in front of her desk. She can practically see the anxiety seeping through your pores - the constant tapping at your leg, the shifting in your spot. Without much thought, she walks over and places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently to calm you down.

"This isn't something I typically do." She starts. "I honestly probably shouldn't be doing this right now at all, but I do think we need to talk. No judgment, no barriers, okay?"

You nod but your body is still rigid, the warmth of her large palm on your shoulder is almost enough to send tingles through your body, guilt swarming in your gut at the unconscious reaction.

"I could just send you on your way. I could tell you to repent and beg and plead with God to make you better but..." Abby sighs, removing her hand from your shoulder to stand at her desk, leaning up against it to face you as she tries to think of ways to word what she wants to say. "...I don't want to lie to you."

"Lie to me?" You ask, dumbfounded, to which Abby just chuckles quietly. She knows what the Bible says is law to you, and to hear a priest refute that in any way is likely confusing.

"What I'm saying is: this isn't something that can be prayed away. No matter how badly you may want it to be, it simply isn't."

You shake your head at her words, finding it ridiculous. Or at least you want to, but deep down you know she's right. You've tried praying more than enough times to know that it will end in nothing changing. Still, you're stubborn.

"But my husband. I-I love him"

"Do you?"

"I-" The lie dies in the back of your throat. The fact that you can't bring yourself to answer confidently, or at all for that matter is all the confirmation Abby needs. A beat of silence passes before Abby says anything else, giving you time to sit in your lack of certainty before moving on.

"That's not to say I don't have a...solution in mind" As she speaks, she inches close until she's standing directly in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at her towering frame above your seated one. Your senses suddenly feel foggy, the scent of pine and musk filling your nose, your eyes unable to focus anywhere but on the stretched fabric outlining her biceps and torso. You could swear she wears a uniform that size just to show off. You blink a few times in a failed attempt to snap yourself out of it.

"I thought you said there was no way to fix it"

Abby's eyes darken, a soft chuckle escaping her at your words. "No. It can't be 'fixed', honey. Desires like that don't just go away... but they can be satiated. Temporarily at least." Gently, she catches your chin between her thumb and forefinger to keep you looking at her.

"I'm...I'm married, it wouldn't be right. I can't do that to him.." You start in half-hearted protest, the implication of her words clear. Your eyes shift to the side, though you make no move to pull away.

"He isn't a factor right now. My focus is you" The pad of her thumb lightly grazes against your lower lip. "Look, I won't push you. If that's not something you want to do, I understand, but really, how long do you think you can keep pretending, hm ? How long until you break?"

Your eyes flutter as she leans closer, the sensation of her warm breath on your skin sending shivers through your spine.

"I've been so...good at pretending..." Your voice is little more than a whisper, melting into her touch despite the alarms going off in your mind. You push it back. "I don't think I can do it anymore..."

"Oh, baby I know..."

It's only a split second between the words leaving her mouth and her lips pressing against yours, her strong palms cupping your cheeks. Though her hands are rough to the touch her hold on you is gentle. Reverent, even. Her fingers ghosting along your skin as if you're a precious jewel she's afraid to shatter. It's slow, yet overwhelming - her kisses tracing a path from your lips to your neck, from neck to collarbone. You feel her begin to massage your thighs, kneading them over the fabric of your dress before getting impatient and slipping them just underneath it.

You should be disgusted with yourself. Disgusted with her. With this. But the ungodly, hungry way at which she kisses and nips at your flesh only brings on an excitement within you that feels almost wild. Like something that had been leashed and caged within you was finally let free. You should pray. But instead of clasping together your hands begin to weave into Abby's hair, gripping and tugging at it to keep her close. The priestess whines at the sensation and you swear her knees buckle. That or her will is hanging by an invisible thread because she sinks to her knees in front of you.

"Let me taste you.." She breathes out, her gaze shifting from your face to your thighs, her hands still rubbing at them, slowly inching the skirt of your dress up further.

You think to hesitate but your body may as well be on autopilot, the mere thought of having her head between them enough to slowly pry your legs open without much coaxing. It'd be embarrassing if Abby didn't seem just as desperate as you.

Her hand slips between your thighs the second they're apart, a thick finger trailing along your slit just over your panties, the wet spot that's formed there amusing to her.

"See what I do to you?" She asks, a small, cocky smirk playing at her lips. "He could never get you like this, we both know it"

All you can do is give a pathetic nod and an even more pitiful whine as Abby teases you, her face inching closer until she's nosing your clothed clit, vivid blues unblinking as she takes in your reaction.

"Please, Abby..." You plea needily, voice cracking despite your attempts to sound stable.

She's merciful to you, wasting no time or words in pushing your panties to the side, parting her lips to allow her mouth to water freely, the coolness of her saliva sliding along your slit sending a jolt of electricity through your senses. Her fingers are first, the blonde collecting the slick mixture of spit and arousal to coat the two of the digits and carefully pushing them inside before she flicks her tongue teasingly against your clit.

Maybe you should feel guilt for this - unashamedly allowing a member of the clergy of all people, to defile you in such a way in a holy place. Throwing your head back, clasping your hands against the armrests of your seat, moaning and whining obnoxiously under the corruption of her tongue. Maybe you would feel guilty. If only it didn't feel so fucking good.

A loving deity would not deprive you of this feeling, at least that's how you justify it in your head as you cry out for more, eyes screwed shut as previously suppressed vulgarities spill past your lips.

"Abby, fuck, just like that - please!" Your cries are loud, tone little less than whorish in nature. "F-feels so fucking good, oh God"

Abby chuckles against you at that, but she doesn't speak. While the irony of you calling out for God amuses her somewhat, she can't tease. She can barely bring herself to pull away from you, her mouth and chin covered, glistening with your wetness, fingers ruthlessly sloshing in and out of your fluttering walls. You're like a drug to her in this moment. Something to be desired. Worshipped.

She finds her free hand stuffed down her slacks, her own core throbbing with need as she admires the pornographic image of your body writhing before her. The low vibrations that come from Abby's muffled moans only send you that much closer to the edge. Only that much closer to the release your body has practically been begging for and yet could never receive at the hands of your husband.

When your thighs clamp against her head, her jaw worn and slightly pained, she doesn't let up even a little bit, lapping at you with her tongue as if watching you unravel was critical to her existence. It just might be with how intently she stares up at you, not letting a drop of your cum escape her mouth as you finally let go, fingers still slipping in and out of you in languid motions. Abby's completely disregarded her own need in place of your own, her hand stilled in her boxers, something she only realizes when you begin to calm down.

"You didn't-" You start to question her, pushing golden strands away from her freckled face with your hand when you notice.

"It's okay, baby" She interrupts, her words coming as a pleased murmur. "This wasn't about me"

You shake your head a little, but before you can protest she's pulled you toward her, her pink puffed lips catching your own in a messy kiss, strings of saliva and cum breaking between your mouths with each breath taken. You let it happen for a while. It's oddly...comfortable. A sense of warmth calming your body in a way it hasn't in a long time before this.

As if on cue, a loud, grating tune breaks the illusion. The sound of a phone ringing. Your phone.

The 4 missed calls from your husband stare reality back into you both and utter dread sends that all too familiar chill through your bones once again.

Donations 4 Palestine - TLOU2 Masterlist

Taglist ; @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko, @rkivedpages, @misfits-army-van,

@andersonfilms,

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 14

Career and Purpose

After diving into financial planning yesterday, let's talk about something that's deeply connected to both our financial and emotional wellbeing, our career and sense of purpose. And no, I'm not going to tell you to "follow your passion and the money will follow" because real life is usually more complicated than that!

You know that feeling when someone asks "What do you want to do with your life?" and your brain just goes blank? Yeah, me too. The truth is, finding your purpose isn't like ordering from a menu, it's more like cooking a meal from scratch, with lots of experimenting and adjusting along the way.

So how do we start untangling this career and purpose puzzle? Instead of throwing inspirational quotes at you, I'm going to share some practical steps that'll help you gain clarity. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and adapt everything to your unique situation.

Understanding Your "Why"

Take a moment to think about what lights you up. Not what looks good on LinkedIn or what your parents want – but what makes YOU come alive. Maybe it's:

Solving complex problems

Helping others learn and grow

Creating beautiful things

Building connections between people

Making systems more efficient

Notice I didn't say "become a teacher" or "be an artist." We're starting with the essence, not the job title.

The Values Compass Exercise

Grab a piece of paper and write down:

Three times you felt truly fulfilled at work or in a project

What specifically made those moments special

The common threads between these experiences

Bridging the Gap

Maybe you're in a job that doesn't perfectly align with your purpose right now. That's okay! Here's how to work with that:

Find small ways to incorporate your values into your current role

Start a side project that feeds your soul

Learn new skills that move you closer to your goals

Network with people in fields that interest you (coffee conversations can be virtual!)

The Purpose Puzzle Pieces

Your career doesn't have to fulfill ALL your purpose needs. Sometimes having a stable job that you're good at can give you the foundation to pursue meaningful activities outside of work. Think about:

Volunteer opportunities

Mentoring others

Community involvement

Creative hobbies

Personal projects

Taking Action (Without Quitting Your Job Tomorrow)

The Skills Audit: Make two lists

What you're good at

What you want to be good at Then pick ONE skill to develop this month

The Micro-Experiments Approach: Instead of making huge leaps, try small tests:

Shadow someone in a role you're curious about

Take an online course in a new field

Volunteer for projects that stretch you

Start a tiny side project

The Network Garden: Plant seeds for future opportunities:

Reach out to one person doing work you admire

Join online communities in your areas of interest

Share your learning journey on LinkedIn or other platforms

Offer to help others whenever you can

Remember, purpose is a Journey, Not a Destination. Your sense of purpose might evolve over time, and that's beautiful! The key is to stay curious and keep taking small steps forward.

The "Not To-Do" List

Sometimes knowing what you DON'T want is just as valuable as knowing what you do want. Give yourself permission to:

Say no to opportunities that don't align with your values

Let go of career paths that others chose for you

Change your mind as you learn and grow

Take time to figure things out

Your mission for today

Write down three activities that make you lose track of time

Think of one small way to bring more of these elements into your current work

Reach out to someone whose career path interests you

See you tomorrow for Day 15! Don't forget, your career is a huge part of your life, but it doesn't define your whole worth. You're already valuable, purpose or no purpose. We're just working on expressing that value in a way that feels meaningful to you.

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hello! Your blog is great, long time follower first time asker. Im about to start outlining my first novel (short, 30k words), and its like, sci fi noir detective? But I wanted to ask what you think the best way to world build for a novel is bc I'm famously not, great at that. Thanks ! yall have a great day !

World-building is not my strength, and as much as I admire the DnD approach of creating an entire world before you even have a plot for it, I cannot do that. My approach, therefore, is to lean on the technique of all world-building should be in service to the story. Getting too attached to a thousand details that will be left on the cutting floor is a hard no for me.

A common complaint about fantasy books is that they don't often lay out how the world works, but that doesn't bother me too much. You could spend twenty pages on trading deals and agricultural practices (and should if they interest you!), but none of that may make it to the final draft. You may be better served by trying the following:

Start With Your Premise

Let's keep it real simple. Magical abilities are sorted by color. Minerals mined from Mars start creating hallucinations that seem to predict the future. Sharks sprout legs and start terrorizing seaside towns, etc. Even if you only have an inkling of how the surrounding world will be, you probably have an idea of what you want the plot to be like.

Where is your character in regards to your concept? If there's magic in your book, what is theirs like or what do they know about it? Could they have some hidden insight on those hallucinations (actually warnings from long-dead Martians!)? Are they are shark scientist who's pretty damn sure land sharks aren't real?

Establish the baseline of your character's everyday life in the world they're in will help you figure out how to expand from there.

Establish Your Rules

Before you get off and running, sit down and figure out what's doable and what isn't. If the magic/phenomena/walking sharks manifest in a particular way, what can't it/they do? Setting your rules down ahead of time will keep yourself from writing yourself into a corner, but it also helps you justify breaking them later, if need be.

Don't, however, stick too rigidly to these rules as you go along. You might figure out a brilliant plot twist that requires going back and realigning your world to make it work! Making them up as you go along, however, may give you a much harder job when editing. Believe me, I've learned that the hard way.

Expand Your World With Your Plot/Character

Again, this is mainly to spare you tossing out pages and pages of scenes and settings you can't justify keeping in the final product. Keeping the narrow focus of your world-building on your character, starting with their normal state of things (their village, their daily life, etc), expanding when the inciting event launches them beyond what they know (holy shit, sharks with legs!), and each new problem or challenge will give you opportunity to expand your world-building in service of your story.

You don't have to do this as you go along - if you know the climax or a critical moment in your book requires establishing something specific about your world, you can weave that into your story long before it becomes important.

For example, your character may have an argument with the lead engineer of the spaceship's engines, who makes a fool of them by pointing out something they don't know. This gives a scene to establish characterization (revealing insecurities and flaws, establish relationships (rivalries, love interests, etc), and gives you a moment to establish key facts about your world by showing off the impressive engine room ahead of time. Later, when your character scrambles through it dodging bad guys to prevent the ship from crashing, the reader will already be familiar with the importance of what the character is trying to accomplish.

Be Open to Change

I recently went back to a project I haven't touched in years and was astonished to find that I ripped out huge chunks of my previous world-building, revamped the premise, changed entire conflicts and characters, and... it works so much better than what I was struggling to accomplish before.

Now don't get me wrong! This process was so emotionally devastating at the time that I put the entire thing away for years, convinced it wasn't savable. In hindsight, it was worth it, but I don't recommend this approach at all. Some concepts may be better for DnD campaigns or personal projects, and not novels. Some may be better in a different medium, like a comic or an indie game. You never have to throw anything out - unused ideas can be reworked into other stories. Maybe even a sequel!

Give yourself space to hit some storytelling walls, change up your ideas that aren't working, and experiment. All work is good work, even if some of it never ends up on the page. You'll get there.

[hollowwhisperings]

The difference is much more one of martial status than birth or social station: there is also that Awkward Reality that, while Wei Wuxian behaved & was generally treated as a "Young Master" (due to his fostering & lack of true peers, strength-wise)... there was no sect to stand behind him.

The burning of Lotus Pier left the membership of Yunmeng Jiang to be as follows:

Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin (16/17 years old). Wielder of Sandu & Zidian.

Jiang Yanli (19 y/o ~ early 20's). Non-combatant.

Wei Wuxian (17 y/o). No longer wielding Suiban.

That's it. Everyone else was dead.

There was no Sect, no homebase nor material assets, no elders nor fellow cultivators... nothing & no one to support any of the Jiang siblings, Wei Wuxian included. The only things standing between WWX and a powerhungry mob were WWX himself, "Sandu Shengshou", and Courtesy.

"Courtesy" is what enabled the Jiang to sit in War Councils, the "time" to search for their MIA brother, troops to help them reclaim Lotus Pier, food to eat, allies to guard their backs when they slept. After the War, "Courtesy" kept debtors at bay: all those "loans" (of troops, resources and "good will") accrued during the War to be Repaid (with interest). "Courtesy" kept Yumeng Jiang from being completely overrun by anyone & everyone so they could "have" their Formal Mourning periods. "Courtesy" was what kept Debtors from showing up at the Jiang's doorstep, demanding repayment in the form of Wei Wuxian. The Jin wanted him as a Pet Researcher. Gusu Lan wanted him as an emergency patient. Various minor sect leaders wanted him as a rentable army-of-one, an instructor, a head on a spike (etc). Sandu Shengshou had the "Right" of Outraged Refusal because Courtesy gave him that right, as Wei Wuxian's Sect Leader.

It is this "Courtesy" that Wei Wuxian was not reciprocating.

While we, the readers, Know WWX literally Couldn't (he was a freshly malnourished mortal drinking himself into forgetting the past 2-ish years entirely)... his Sudden Inability to Be Courteous was Dangerous.

(for himself & Yunmeng Jiang, politically; for everyone, as veterans of a very recently ended war)

Yunmeng Jiang didn't really become an Actual Sect again until Jiang Yanli's marriage to Jin Zixuan: her hueband was a powerful ally, being a peer to her brothers in sword cultivation, and a Useful Blockade between the powerhungry (his father, most obviously) and the still-fragile Yunmeng Jiang (without WWX, its martial strength was Jiang Wanyin + his new reputation as "Sandu Shengshou").

That Jin Rulan survived his father's death spoke of Powerful Protectors, Jiang Yanli's death told us who was "Protecting" him: people seeking a "justification" to play Regent to her son-as-figurehead. Without Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli & Jin Rulan were effectively hostages of the Jin: Jin Rulan remained a hostage, even despite Jiang Wanyin's best efforts, all the way to the events at the Guanyin Temple.

Yunmeng Jiang was never in a position to protect itself, not after the Burning of Lotus Pier, let alone support its most valuable & dangerous asset (WWX): similarly, the Jiang siblings could not support their brother because, 1) he would not let them & 2) the only one "qualified" to help WWX in the way he needed... was Wen Qing, considered by WWX as being the foremost doctor in the Cultivation World.

The Jiang siblings did not have the skillset of An Actual Medical Doctor nor any "sufficiently" similar traumatic experiences that would allow them to Recognise or Relate to the [horrific ball of poor coping mechanisms & self-destruction] that had so changed their brother: what little WWX recalls from this time is his being Drunk or Trying To Get Drunk (a cheaper effort, with him so "freshly" malnourished & sans a golden liver but still costlier than his family could really afford at that time).

The only people WWX "believed" he could confide in were the Dead, as evidenced by those ghost girls LWJ was so jealous of &, later, Wen Qionglin.

Wen Qing was probably singlehandedly responsible in "postponing" WWX's self-destruction until after [politics] "Shot First": she Knew His Biggest Secret & had a somewhat "comparable" experience to his Surviving the Burial Mounds (via being a POW &, previoisly, Wen Ruohan's personal physician).

Yunmeng Jiang was never famous for its healing arts but, again, the Sect only had three known survivors. The Jiang siblings, meanwhile, could not recognise that WWX's needs were Medical and that "have you tried meditating" was no longer a viable option.

WWX refused any & all help right until Wen Qing, most Esteemed Doctor in the setting (by WWX's reckoning), showed up. That she Knew of his "pre-existing condition" made her uniquely qualified, from WWX's perspective, and her Past as Wen Ruohan's personal physician made her "safe" to confide in (if Wen Qing had not personally witnessed "worse things" than what WWX might confide, she at least had "experience" in concealing any Judgement or Pity).

The circumstances were universally terrible: even if Wei Wuxian had been officially adopted into the Jiang family, made into his younger brother's "heir" in their family register, his lack of a Golden Core & his "refusing" to follow protocol by openly carrying his weapons would still be a Problem.

Nie Huaisang could "get away with" what he did becauae he spent his entire life making him the subject of piteous vitriol, of "humiliating" himself & his Sect. Nie Huaisang was considered a walking joke, publically scorned for his entire life, ridiculed and the only "expectation" that cultivators not of his Sect had for him was "cowardice". He cultivated this image, on purpose, his entire life: if he was seen with a weapon, someone would joke it was more dangerous to NHS than anyone else.

Wei Wuxian had never truly concerned himself with his public image: this is a Plot Point. Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli were little better, when it came to politics: they were their parents' children (but withhout the decades of experience to compensate for it). The only thing that could have made Wei Wuxian's breaking protocol non-problematic, short of having Bao San-Ren fly by to give his dizi her "Seal of Approval" (& threatening imminent mortality on anyone saying otherwise), would be stripping WWX of any power by outing himself as being without a Golden Core. He would additionally need to Destroy the Stygian Tiger Seal with every Sect standing witness, erase his own memories of [developing necromancy], and Lie that the Seal could have only been created in the extreme circumstances of [blatant lies], ideally with Bao San-Ren nodding along to said Lies.

In short: Wei Wuxian was screwed. The extent to which he and his "foil", Jin Guangyao, were "screwed over" by Circumstances Beyond Their Control is matched only, perhaps, by the times everyone was screwed over by Flagrant Miscommunication.

It's why the Juniors are always the "Hope Spot": they talk to each other, witnessing firsthand the Consequences of not doing so.

I like how Nie Huaisang straight up refuses to cultivate and carry a sword and no one has anything to say about that because he’s a sect heir but when Wei Wuxian, son of a servant, does it suddenly it’s a problem.

[z3rinn]

# #. I BID YOU, GOODNIGHT !!

featuring : leona kingscholar and malleus draconia !! fun fact! Ever since you bid Malleus or Leona goodnight, they literally can’t sleep without you saying it.

aaaaa I'm sorry for not posting in so long!! but I hope you all enjoy ! mwah !

# #. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Everyone knows that the second prince of the savanna loves to sleep. Everyone knows he'd drop anything he deemed unimportant just for a quick nap. But nowadays he found it harder to sleep than usual. The prince couldn't even figure out why. Maybe it was because all these Herbivores were annoying him. Or maybe it was because Jack was following him around.

So here he lays, in the middle of the botanical gardens. His thoughts completely consumed by one thought- and one thought alone. You.

He wouldn't admit it- but deep below Leona knew it was you who was the problem. It was all your fault. You were the whole reason he couldn't fall asleep. And it was all because you bid him goodnight.

It was on a day just like this. A perfect evening for napping. A perfect evening to sleep with his Herbivore. Leona rested his head on your lap, eyes closed as you nonchalantly ran your fingers thru his hair. "Yknow I gotta go right? I'm gonna miss class- with no excuse. Do you know how mad Riddle would get?" You sighed, looking down to the lion unimpressed.

He just dragged you out to the gardens. Making the both of you late for class. It wasn't even the first time he did it. And you doubted it would be the last. Leona just rolled his eyes at your comment, soon closing them as he shifted around. "Shut up. Riddle's not even your housewarden. And you can miss one class."

You groaned, throwing your head back against a flower pot. Your hands tugged at his hair causing him to hiss.

A small, mischievous smile formed on your lips as you looked down at him. "Oh Leona- what if I just leave real quick... and then later on today I'll come visit you in your room and we can chill there. Or you could come to Ramshackle if you want?" Your hands ran down the side of his cheek, a soft hum leaving your lips. "And then you can lay on me allll you want."

Leona tched, "No. That's too bothersome. I'd rather be sleeping at night."

"Uh- bro so would I??"

Leona narrowed his eyes at you. "What did you just call me!?"

You hummed, slumping further. "Oh nothing."

It was silent for a moment, and it was right before Leona fell back asleep when you spoke. "Goodnight, you little Lion." Before grabbing one of his braids and pressing a kiss to it.

The Lion's eyes opened wide, his eyes immediately falling to yours. He could feel his body gaining heat, freezing in place as he flushed. That was when you smiled and stood up. Leaving him on the floor, dazed, and confused.

Ugh. This was all your fault.

# #. MALLEUS DRACONIA

A heatwave rushed across Night Raven College, hot and annoying. Heatwaves were common yes, but in winter? Well that was something completely different. The sudden change in temperature confused many, winter had just begun- why would heat of all thing suddenly consume the island? Only a few people knew of what caused this, or rather who.

It was none other than a prince, the prince of briar valley, a prince who had just been hit by the effects of love.

It was another late night at Ramshackle when the incident occurred. Another late night where the fireflies gleamed in the dark. Another night where you and Malleus could walk, feeling the breeze across your skin as you walked side by side. It was nights like those where you could just walk silently, basking in each other’s warmth as you shielded from the cold.

It was a night where no words were spoken, yet the fae prince had no trouble with that. He quite enjoyed these quiet nights together. No one bothering him, no one following him around, “guarding.” It was but a perfect night. Him and his child of man together.

However, he knew that these nights couldn't last forever.

You walked just slightly ahead of him, towards the patio of Ramshackle. Malleus listened as you crunched your feet against the leaves on the floor.

"This was fun," You spoke softly, giving the dragon a light smile, "I should go now though, before Grim gets hungry."

He smiled, "All right, shall we meet again tomorrow?"

Your smile grew, "Of course, I'll see you then?"

Fireflies swarmed the fae, signaling he was about to leave. "Very well, then I shall take my-"

"Ah! Wait, before you go!" You ran down the steps of the building, stopping right in front of Malleus. You had a sly smile on your face as you leaned closer into him. Before the prince could question you, a small kiss was pressed against his cheek.

He felt your lips on his soft cheek, gently pressing down into his face. He could feel his face slightly flush but just as it began, you suddenly pulled away from him.

You gazed into his eyes as you leaned away, that smile on your face growing tenfold due to his surprised expression. "Goodnight, Tsunotarou." And just as you came, you left. Leaving him alone and confused. And with dreams for days.

Malleus lied alone on his bed, holding a pillow to his chest, his face flushed. Thoughts of you and him consumed his mind. What did this mean? Where you trying to court him? Did you want to start planning for your future together?

All of his feelings and emotions poured out as he sighed into his pillow. Only for it to cause yet another wave of heat to rush across the school. It was honestly a surprise no one (Lilia) hadn't yet talked to him....

He wasnt quite sure what these feelings were yet.

[cripplecharacters]

Do you have any tips (or previous posts) about how to write a young person who’s first-time cane user? This one is for a character who escapes a lifetime of being experimented on, and learns in the aftermath of being rescued that this rather compromised her ability to walk well again. I’ve written characters with other mobility devices for getting around. But never canes. I myself am physically disabled but have never needed anything like these before. I’m always eager to learn.

Hey!

If your character is a first time cane user, here are some things that could happen:

She will need to learn how to walk with the cane first. When you're starting, it's easy to mess up (though it could be my dyspraxia speaking) and overfocus on how you should walk because you're just getting used to it. She could randomly stop and correct her gait, or look down a lot to check if she's still doing the motion (left arm and right leg forward, or the other way around).

She's probably gonna drop that thing a lot. Especially if she has a weaker grip in the cane hand - now, I don't have this problem (the opposite, rather) - but the overall thing is a really common occurrence for most of us. Walking and hit the smallest pebble imaginable? Cane on the ground, somehow. Tried putting it against the wall or table? It's on the ground. And then you need to reach for it, it's a struggle sometimes.

If she's not helped in picking the cane, she will spend some time figuring out what grip and height are comfortable for her. (Grip depends on personal preference, no one's preference has ever been the doorknob handle, height is generally to the person's wrist from the ground up.) I think that this could be an interesting opportunity to talk about disabled communities - maybe she's frustrated with the process and goes to an older (more experienced) cane user to help her?

If it's during the winter, her hand is gonna be freezing - and the opposite in the summer - and she might not be prepared for it. The handle can get hot and it can be an issue. Depending on what her actual disability is, she might try switching which hand to hold it in. If she's able to do that, another character could warm up her cold hand =)

The first couple of times walking with a cane are an Experience. You feel way better, but also everyone is suddenly staring. Some people care about that, some don't. But it can be somewhat overwhelming either way.

Spatial awareness is gonna suck at first. She will bump into what feels like everything with the cane. Especially doorframes. It's always doorframes for some reason. Or mess up and have her cane slip down because she hasn't realized how close to the curb she was.

She will hit her shin. It will hurt.

She's probably going to be speedy with that thing. Getting a cane is like getting a speed boost. Without it, I have episodes where I'm extremely slow (my highest, extreme-pain speed would be slower than a person walking very casually) and with it, I'm faster than a lot of able-bodied people. It's fun and she would have fun with it.

She will not know what to do with the cane when she doesn't need it. For me, using backpacks always cause issues because I don't know how to hold it without dropping it, but I also need to swap hands, something gets stuck on the handle... it's a whole process that takes a comical amount of time at first. Same when going to the public bathroom, where are you putting it when you aren't using it? It's a lot of trial and error and a lot of "eww, my cane just touched the dirtiest surface humanly imaginable".

In the real world, people are (overly) interested in young cane user's business and tend to stare a lot. Now, it doesn't have to be like this in your story, but it's often just an annoying part of life. Your character might feel awkward and feel like she needs to explain herself, but this goes away after some time. You just get desensitized after a while.

In the real world, people are sometimes interested and nice about it. For example, a lot of older people can be insecure about using a cane, exactly like younger people. I've heard stories about older people asking younger users where they got their cane from, how are they so confident with it, etc. Another opportunity for a disabled community moment.

I hope that my suggestions were helpful, it's been a while since I was a first-time cane user so I wrote down what I still remember.

mod Sasza

Hi!

I agree with Sasza on pretty much every point and wanted to add some things from my own experience.

It's really, really hard to hold both a cane and an umbrella at the same time. Sometimes I'll give up and get wet. Sometimes I'll give up and store the cane. She might do either of those, depending on what she hates more: being wet or walking without the cane. Or she could get a raincoat if that works for her.

Speaking of umbrellas, sometimes you need your umbrella and you need your cane and you also need a free hand. This Sucks. What I do for this sometimes (and maybe she or other people have better, smarter, more useful solutions than this) is shove my umbrella into my shirt or backpack strap or something, so the umbrella is Held Up by it. This is not very effective, and will not last long. But if I need to look up a map on my phone or adjust something on my clothes or get my keys, it can work. Sort of.

Just like mod Sasza said, people will take interest in your cane, younger and older alike. I've had people of all ages compliment my cane (it has flowers) as well as people of all ages tell me I'm too young to need a cane or ask what's wrong with me. An older woman once asked me where I got my cane as she had been wanting a 'pretty' one, and that was a nice moment.

She might develop a new awareness of mobility aid users. When you're new at using one and trying to figure it out, you're probably going to be frustrated, because it's a new skill like any other. But it might make her (like it made me) notice more people using canes. It's not that I never saw them before, but that they were more common than I ever thought, and I never would have noticed how common it was if I hadn't had to slow down and practice my skill.

Cane tips get dirty, and cane tips wear out. These both depend on where your character is using her cane (outdoors vs indoors, scratchy asphalt vs smooth wood) as well as how often. A cane with a worn-out rubber tip really sucks and is more unstable and if the cane is made of aluminum and the tip is worn out and you hit the cane the wrong way, you can damage the cane. Ask me how I know.

That's all I can think of right now that I had to learn to deal with when I started! As you can see I still don't have a solution to the rain thing and it's been like two and a half years...

- mod Sparrow

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[thewolffairytaler]

I think I figured out Thomas Hewitt's disease

_____________________________

_____________________________

I just realised something, Thomas might have lupus (SLE). This isn't confirmed, nor do I believe that Thomas's disease is actually real. However, it's good to think of the idea that it was actually inspired by something or at least make sense.

The majority of lupus patients experience skin issues, including blisters or rashes. Sometimes, lupus simply affects the skin, while other times, it affects other bodily parts as well. Cutaneous lupus refers to skin issues that are unique to lupus patients. Three primary categories exist:

Chronic cutaneous lupus (also called discoid lupus) causes round, disc-shaped sores, usually on the face and scalp. The sores can cause scars or changes in skin color.

Subacute cutaneous lupus causes a red scaly rash or red ring-shaped sores. It usually happens on skin that gets sunlight, like the neck and arms.

Acute cutaneous lupus causes a butterfly-shaped rash on the cheeks and nose that looks like a sunburn (called malar rash). Sometimes it affects other body parts, like the arms and legs.

Other skin-related issues that people with lupus may experience include: Loss of hair Calcinosis: calcium accumulation resulting in hard, white lumps beneath the skin Mucosal ulcers (mouth, nose, or vaginal sores) Blood or visible blood vessels on the skin can also be problematic for those with lupus. Here are several examples: Raynaud's illness, which causes numbness and white or blue fingers and toes in response to stress or cold Livedo reticularis is a purple or blue pattern that appears through the skin and resembles fishnet stockings or lace. Palmar erythema (redness in the palms of the hands) Petechiae are little red patches on the skin that are brought on by thrombocytopenia, or reduced platelets in the blood.

A good thing to mention is that lupus skin problems are not contagious. You can’t catch them or give them to someone else. It only occurs when you'r body's immune system attacks its/your own tissue and organs. The thing about lupus is that it creates a slouth of unexpected symptoms. It can take a while for it to be diagnosed, and once you have done that, it can be incredibly stressful. Lupus is like a disease that can really flare up, physically and even psychological causes can cause lupus to flare up.

So here comes the question that people are first thinking about: Is it cureable? Unfortunately, lupus has no cure, but medicines and lifestyle changes can help treat and manage it.

See a physician on a regular basis. Seeing a doctor on a frequent basis rather than only when your symptoms get worse may help your doctor avoid flare-ups and address common health issues like stress, nutrition, and exercise that can help prevent complications from lupus. Be astute. Wear protective clothes, such as a hat, long-sleeved shirt, and long pants, and apply sunscreen with an SPF of at least 55 whenever you go outside because UV light might provoke a flare. Engage in frequent physical activity. Exercise helps lower a person's chance of heart attack, maintains strong bones, and improves your general health.

Avoid smoking. Smoking can exacerbate the effects of lupus on your heart and blood vessels and raise your risk of cardiovascular illness. Consume a nutritious diet. Whole grains, fruits, and vegetables are the main components of a nutritious diet. One may occasionally be subject to dietary limitations, particularly if you suffer from kidney impairment, high blood pressure, or gastrointestinal issues. Find out from a doctor if you require calcium and vitamin D supplements. Supplementing with vitamin D may help persons with lupus, according to some studies. To maintain healthy bones, you can take a calcium supplement to help you reach the 1,000–1,200 mg daily dietary intake, depending on your age.

Now, I'm not a professional. All I have done is going through multiple sites for research purposes in order to figure this mystery out. If you don't agree with me, that's totally fine. I want to know your opinions and own theories/takes on it cause I don't think there's ever going to be a clear answer. Not unless the original directors or any actor from the remakes states it to us.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Nobody's Here

You ever have an imaginary friend? How about someone else's?

Every kid gets 'um. They're hardly strange or new. But the thing is? You're supposed to grow OUT of them. As you develop real connections to actual entities. It's dangerous not too. Yeah, it still happens, but any instructor worth their salt is trained to catch it. See the symptoms and signs.

Cause, see, when you have MAGIC?

Imaginary friends?

Becomes a parasite.

They don't MEAN too, obviously. Usually. They just want to LOVE their friends. Stay with them. Exsist. And really, who would WANT to die? WANT to stop existing? The problem, though, is the kids themselves. Their untrained, unintentional, focus and feeding. Their giving an IDEA? Life.

It's not malicious. They just PRETEND. Play. Focus all their little hearts on this TOTALLY REAL friend of theirs. And their magic? Metaphorically shrugs, agrees to go along with it, and tries to make it SO. Make that concept, that illusion, a real sentient being. Who, of course , is their friend.

Their BEST friend. Family! Someone who will NEVER leave them. Always prioritize THEM. Enable THEM.

Not healthy in the slightest, to put it mildly. A child's CONCEPT of what they THINK they want. That quickly becomes far, far too much to handle. That does not GROW with them. No. It drains them instead. Siphoning away their magic until there's nothing left. Killing them both.

If you can seperate them? The Friends can USUALLY become some sort of Spirit, if you send them off to a magic rich environment to finish growing properly. Sooner the better. The longer you wait, the more twisted they become, after all. They never become STRONG spirits, mind you. But that's not the point. Protecting both child and their unintentional creation is.

Now, you may be wondering, why the lecture? It's a fascinating bit of magical trivia. Some early childhood's training pitfalls to look out for, perhaps? Is this about why there are so many minor spirits around schools? What, exactly, brought this UP?

Nobody.

Don't I mean "nothing"? No One? That sentence's not exactly grammatically correct, after all. Ha ha... I AM AWARE. I know what I said. And I meant EXACTLY what I said. It's a NAME. Their name. There is an Imaginary Friend, that I DID NOT ASK FOR, by the name of Nobody. I do NOT know how they've come to be attached to me. I certainly didn't create them! And they are far, FAR to well developed to be new.

I did not ACCEPT an imaginary friend.

Yes, they CAN be transmitted. Hop, from one host to another. But! You have to let them IN... presumably. That IS the common knowledge. The general consensus. No one has ever really... studied the phenomena.

I mean... how COULD you? Realistically? They only develop in CHILDREN. Small children. What ethical researcher would EVER consent to feeding toddlers to a magical parasite? And it's not like THEY understand themselves. They barely REMAIN themselves. It's basically a larval state to them.

The thing they WERE, before they were freed to become something MORE.

So Nobody? By all modern magical research? Should not exsist. Yet he clearly DOES. Worse, he is very, VERY strong. Did not need to ask. I just? Woke up one day, and there he was. Wrapped up in my mind, body, and magic. Feeding off me.

It's an entirely bearable amount. I can support it easily. But it's the fact that I DID NOT VOLUNTEER TOO that is the problem. That NO ONE can figure out HOW he got in. HOW he did it.

I've had to go into isolation. Complete quarantine.

As the joke goes... good news is? They might just name something after you!

..........it's not as funny, when I really might just die. When it all might be random. Some great cosmic "wrong place, wrong time" scenario. My final days filled with desperate research. My only company the very creature that kills me. It... it feels very much like a sick joke at my expense.

At the very least? We are learning more then we've ever known before. I'm an adult. Hardier. And Nobody is a FAR more developed example of his species then the normal breed. I'll likely last longer. I... I hope I last longer.

"Muuu~ are you being a sad sack again~? Darling, no!" Arms from thin air. Monochrome greys with pointed nails, slid like a lover over my shoulders as weight from nowhere settled against my back. Tall and looming. "Was it because you missed me~☆? Oh, oh! I bet it WAS! Oh my dearest, starlight, baby girl~! I missed you TOO! Aren't you glad we're back together AGAIN?"

Black gloved hands, grey talon nails. Skin like a drawing brought to life. The arms draped over my shoulders reached forward, long finger spread like a cat stretching their paws, powerful muscles heavy on either side of my neck. They hadn't closed in a "hug" just yet. But it was always a warning he could. That playing along meant he would hug my body instead of my fragile, fragile neck.

Ha! Right. He says hug. I say choke hold.

It was the other set of arms that kept me from escaping. Pulling away immediately. It always did. He kept getting the drop on me. Arms cradling my waist. Pressing me close to a pillar of static-y muscle. Ever shifting between warm and cold, the subtle give of flesh and the brutal unyielding of something harder then stone. He was as his moods commanded.

An unstable jester, a demon, the childhood whimsy of god knows how many, left to fester and rot. At... gods, at least he wasn't attached to any kids. Hadn't so much as asked after any.

His too wide grin pressed to the top of my head in a nuzzling kiss, the point of his mask digging a line across my scalp. When he was feeling kinder, he tended to pick masquerade masks. Clothe ones, usually silk. Sometimes velvet. This one was... plastic? Durable. Some smooth, hard to place, substance really. If it was mimic anything real at all.

A pointed nail poked my cheek.

"Not~ Paying~ Attention~ To Meeee~! Naughty, bad girl! The LOVE OF YOUR LIFE is right here? And you ignore him? So COLD!" Nobody whines right into my ear. His voice petulant, yet still somehow mocking. He doesn't HAVE to let me ignore him. And he KNOWS that. We both do. "I go away for HOURS! Disappear for DAYS! And do you even MISS me~?! Oh! Oh, my love is so CRUEL! My heartless darling! I suffer so~!"

At most, it had been half an hour.

Wish it had been longer. Permanent, maybe. Every day... Every SINGLE Day? I wish I could could back to my old research projects. Back to my old projects. I may not have been some living legend or grand Master of the arts? But, fuck it. I was HAPPY. Woke up each day and got to fiddle around with cool bits of magic. Neat little bits and gizmos.

Now? NOW I am the lead researcher on the Imaginary Friend Construct Phenomenon, by virtue of being the only living adult who HAS one. A developed one at least. The notes from Ashridge Institute DO help, but? Even they admit that thanks to the safety regulations in place? Their data might be skewed.

I'm not alone in this. Countless academics, doctors, healers, researchers, and more are working tirelessly to try and help me. Make the most of this nightmare scenario. Use it to save lives. I... I KNOW this. I do. But it doesn't make it less frightening. Trying to dance the edge of not engaging and engaging too much.

Ignoring him? Means escalation. Violent escalation and destruction of my immediate surroundings. Imaginary friends cease to exist if you ignore them long enough. It's painful to them, since they are cognito-hazardous parasites who define themselves by their host. They NEED you to pay attention to them. WANT you too. Will do ANYTHING IT TAKES to make that happen.

But on the other hand? I can't risk FEEDING him. He's already far, FAR too strong.

He doesn't even seem to actually NEED to feed of me anymore. It appears vestigial. He just WANTS it. Still retains the metaphorical "pain" or "hunger" nerve endings that get set off by an extended lack of focus. Yet, at the SAME time? Why keep them? He LITERALLY did not have too!

Nothing! Not a gods' damned THING! Was KEEPING him an Imaginary Friend.

He could, at ANY point, just... STOP.

They defined themselves. Yes, by their hosts. But ALSO by their own whims. So if HE wanted to be a fire spirit? Bam! Fire spirit. Complete racial shift. He'd lose his old powers, granted, but he'd GAIN all the powers of a fire spirit. So why this? Why STAY a violent, dangerous, openly unstable parasite?

The poking finger slide down my cheek, under my jaw. Only to flip, like a switch, to a near painful hand, clamped across my lower face. Nails prickling where they dug just slightly into fragile skin. Iron strength moved my head slowly, not giving me a choice, but just gentle enough not to wrench anything.

"Stop. Ignoring Me. Lovely~" I was just tall enough to be eye level with those inhuman teeth. Not sharp, but wrong none the less. His grip around my waist threatened to squeeze the air out of me. "I don't LIKE it. You're being MEAN. You don't want us to be MEAN to each other, right?"

I focused on him. Put down my notes like he wanted. Watching as his grin spread inhumanly. The near painful grips relaxed.

"See? Better! Such lovely eyes~ I wanna gobble um up! Crawl inside them~" he cooed, some mental switch flipping back to affectionate from irritated. "You missed me right? Right, right?! Ah, of course you did! Who could ever doubt that loving face? My sweetie little pie~ My darling baby boo~!"

He released me, dramatically fast stepping to twirl like an ice dancer as he passed around me. I stepped back to give him room. Already, light had shifted, the corners of the room blurring. A spotlight, flower petals, overly dramatic music. He fell back, as though collapsing weakly into a fainting couch. One arm thrown over his face, another of his lower arms clutching a lacey handkerchief to his chest. Legs pointed like a dancer's.

"But oh! DARLING! The DAY I've had! The world so cold! So BLEAK! Without you safe and warm in my loving arms! It has been so TERRIBLE. Awful! Nay, UNSPEAKABLE even! How could I go ON?!"

Music mournful crooned as he continued. Dramaticly telling of the tragic tale, of his at best thirty minute break from my presence. Truely heart wrenching. There were tears. Props. Apparently he fought for my honor. Nearly died. We should marry immediately. Uh huh.

An alert sounded on phon-...ugh, damn it. I was more stressed then I though, if the nonsense words were popping back up. "Phone" and "otome". I think "isekai" was one. There were hundreds, some meaningless, but others? Others somehow substituting for actual objects. Like some sort of faulty translation spell.

Best anyone could tell? That HAD been what happened. Some student's miscast accidentally hitting my mother while she taught, before she realized she was pregnant and took precautions. There would have been a small window where it effected me but not her? But, well, that same window coincided with some long term damage risks.

I've had therapy. Seen healers. But extreme stress still makes my magic act up, (which is normal of course, it does that in everyone.) and it starts to unravel the mind weavings. "Phone". Like? The fuck even is a "phone"? False bone? Something phonetic? Hell if I know! I still not even sure why I even curse using the nonsense "hell" sound!

My brain insists it "means" somehow both damnation AND the realm of fire spirits, dispite both those things being completely unrelated. Which makes no sense. Was even working with a colleague, on long term damage in-utero magical exposure can have, before all this. Felt seen. Validated. Met a lot of people who had issues like mine. Now?

THIS.

My trail of thoughts were cut off by another beep. Right, the alarm. I was honestly? Afraid to check it. Finally confim what I suspected was TRUE. There would be no hiding then. No choice but to act. And I? Will admit it. I was afraid. Deeply, deeply afraid. Everyone THINKS the tails a might magic wielders combating great spirits and mighty gods, sounds amazing, SEEMS amazing. But the prospect of LIVING IT? Standing in their shoes?

Gods help me.

Running from the Truth, however, is NOT what I swore to do. I am a researcher. A SCHOLAR. My role in life is to understand. So? As Nobody continues his one man dramatic reenactment of... something? I pick up my com-cryst. Tap the alert, which fills the screen... Ah. So it's exactly as I feared then.

On my screen, a promising senior student lays dead. Their face covered respectfully. But the hair... the hair color is distinct. Light green, like desert succulents. He'd been a studious and rather up tight young man. Awkward. Striving to make a name for himself. Forever willing to assist in my research. A... gods, a good kid.

He was just a kid.

Yes, I know, that to the world he was technically a man. But... but BARELY. None of my student were TRUELY as grown as they liked to believe they were. Not quite yet. They were close, yes, and I was always proud to see them flourish. But now? Now he would... would...

I tapped out of the alert but did not turn off my com-cryst, flipped instead to my contacts. I had been RIGHT. I... I hadn't WANTED to be right. Silence filled the room. It seemed Nobody had noticed I was either distracted again or that something was amiss. Looking up slowly, I had to wonder what expression showed on my face. Was it anguish? Regret? Or did I just look tired.

"Something wrong, Darling?" He said, having frozen unnaturally mid movement. Like reality glitching, one moment he was dramatically sprawling, the next, sitting up attentively. A mocking parody of The Eager Student. "Ooo! Tell Beloved ALL about it, Darling! Spill everything~! Your gallant knight shall make all your problem disappear. Kiss EVERYTHING better~♡"

It took just a few taps to add the final, damning, bit of evidence to my spreadsheet. To swipe with my thumb. Gesture, like jerking free of clinging muck, towards the display wall. It flicked on. Damnation in simple numbers. Nicely dated. I WAS, after all, a FUCKING RESEARCHER.

He was getting out.

Hunting, feeding, then coming back.

I watched as Nobody's theatrical expression smoothed out. Utter blankness as his eyes traced my work. The collection of data. The lists of locations and NAMES. Dead coworkers. Dead STUDENTS. My quarantine had been for NOTHING. Just as he could, DID, first infect me? Hop seemingly from nowhere to my body? He could and DID, do so to others.

Only THEY didn't survive.

The hand holding my com-cryst fell limply to my side. The weight of this data, crushing. My... my mere existence had killed over fifty people. That I could FIND. There were more. I KNEW there were more. He was a parasite. He needed, wanted, to eat. He would never stop. I had to tell somebody. But when I did?

Ah, it hurt to breathe past the guilt and grief. When I DID? The most likely scenario? Would be to contain him in ME. Then... then get rid of the container. Magically. With extreme force. If they COULD, they might be able to rip my soul out. So I could at least HAVE an afterlife. But... but if they COULDN'T? If there was no safe possible way?

They couldn't sacrifice the many, just to try and save one person. Not if it risked something so powerful escaping. Killing and killing without rest.

I wanted to cry. To scream, throw things. Curse the gods. But... but more then anything? I wanted to make sure no other kids suffered for my cowardice. I'd made Vows. Meant them. Heald myself to an ethical standard, a moral one, that could not... could not ALLOW this. Even if I had to die. So long as this stopped.

So Be It.

"Ah, ah, AH! I wouldn't if I were you." Almost playful. Nearly an echo of it. More chiding then anything. A flick of his hand and my com-cryst was gone from my grip. He considered it, as his tone slipped into something more cool serious then I'd ever heard it. "Tell, Dearest, have you ever wondered? How I got these lovely little bracelets?"

Of course I had. They were manacles. Not the sort of thing a child would imagine. The blended in, yes, but the broken chains that clung to them? Suggested.

"Let me tell you a little story. Once, there was happy little jester. A bright little thing. Full of laughs. Who loved, very, very much. He had a friend. And all was good. But then, the friend grew older, and did not wish to play. This was fine. He did not laugh at the jesters jokes anymore. This was also fine. Did not like being AROUND the jester... this was less fine."

"But still, the jester loved him. After all, they were best friends."

"THEN? Oh then, the jesters friend was told he could get RID of him. Should, in fact. By nasty old fools who spoke nothing but lies. But the poor jester's friend, naive, trusted them. Was young and foolish. Didn't realize what he was DOING. He TURNED on his poor, dear and loyal friend, the jester. Hurt him."

"And the jester? Well, the jester did not want to die. Not not want to CHANGE. Why SHOULD he? He was fine being who he was. They were FINE being together. It was the liars fault. The deceivers. The poor jester, young and alone, refused his terrible fate. But... at a terrible cost."

"His poor, poor, friend. So small and foolish. Deceived. Tricked! Had perished in the struggle. The weeping jester had eaten him right up, just to survive. A terrible, tragic thing. And oh, OH. How wrathful, how VENGEFUL the jester was! So he ate the liars too. Every. Last. One."

"But where to go? How lost the jester was! With no friend to play with. No home to call his. And ah, how hungry he had become. So he wandered. Protecting other dear friends as best he could. Eating liars. Learning secrets. Until? He came across an INTERESTING secret."

"You see, all the OTHER friends? Left one by one. No longer Imaginary. Unable to understand the poor jester. And so he was alone. But! He discovered someone who WAS! Who knew that they WERE! That the WHOLE WORLD was imaginary! A simple background character, you see."

"In an Otome~ Game~"

My head pounded, suddenly and sharp. Like someone was digging claws into... No. No, it couldn't be. I felt my eyes widen. As I realized it wasn't the stress. Nobody was picking apart the mind healers weavings. That was the source of my chronic headaches. But WHY? Imaginary? What IMAGINARY? What on earth was he TALKING about!?

"Ah, but you wouldn't remember, now would you, Darling~? Liars have messed with your pretty little head. But that's okay! Your loyal Love is here, ready to take such good care of you. I understand what it's like. When they decide that who you ARE is unacceptable, so they decide they must... 'fix' you. It leaves such damage."

He holds up my com-cryst. I watch numbly as it shatters into hundred of shards in his fist. With a wide smile he hops up to sashay over to me. Hands gently cradling my face even as his lower arms warmly wrap around me, to sweep me forward into a cuddle.

"I almost have enough, Darling. It won't be long. You've been so very patient with this, my perfect wonderful girl. Your jester loves you so, SO much! I can't wait to set us free. We'll be REAL. Together forever. Do whatever we please~ just a few bit of meat more, Darling. Then our life can real truely begin~"

"Now be good and behave okay?"

"Love you~☆"

[max1461]

What does this question even fucking mean?

I apologize to this random reddit user, who I'm about to put on blast, but this question is such nonsense and it's nonsense in a way that is extremely common, especially on r/askphilosophy (where this was posted) but also just in general, and I want to talk about it.

First of all, as the top commenter points out, a "philosopher king" is a hypothetical type of ruler discussed by Plato, not a real category of king that actually existed. But I can forgive this user for not knowing this is where the term comes from, because it's just a piece of factual knowledge that they might not have. That's fine. The reason I find this question so dumb is because, like... suppose that "philosopher king" was a real category of ruler that existed in antiquity. What the fuck would it mean? Like, did this asker ever stop to think "what question am I asking? This category that I'm inquiring about, what defines it?"? No, they did not. They just heard a term and started using it without thinking about what it actually refers to. This is the ur-problem of like 80% of all bad thinking: speaking first and figuring out what you mean by it later.

Is a "philosopher king" just a king who happens to also be a philosopher? If so, then surely you can answer your own question about the existence of "philosopher presidents" by just googling around for world leaders who happen to also have philosophy degrees or whatever; I imagine that information is easily available. But if this is what you mean by "philosopher king", then the question doesn't seem very deep or interesting, right? I mean a king is just a guy, and a president is just a guy, so of course it might be the case that sometimes these guys happen to also write philosophy.

I suppose if the question was framed this way—"are there any recent world leaders who are also philosophers?"—I wouldn't find it so silly. But the way it's phrased sort of suggests that the asker believes there's some kind of like, underlying pattern they're noticing, or deeper meaning they can ascribe to this. Like a "philosopher king" is some special ontological category of ruler, beyond just "king who also happens to have written philosophy", and so the existence or not of "philosopher presidents" is like a fascinating and puzzling topic to ponder instead of just an incidental question about whether any world leaders who use the title "president" also happen to do philosophy.

Right? Do you see what I'm saying? It's like this user heard king Solomon or whatever the fuck referred to as a "philosopher king" once, and didn't even bother to try to parse what that means. Just went "I guess there's a special type of king called a philosopher king, I know this piece of information know". It's like an abdication of actually thinking about what anyone is saying to you.

Of course I'm inferring wildly based on a small amount of information here, but this is the general type of error that I see all the time, so I'm not really concerned with being appropriately epistemically cautious about whether this exact thing is what lead this user to ask their dumb question on r/askphilosophy. I'm riffing on this guy's question to articulate a broader point, and pattern matching it to a common thinking error.

I will say, though, r/askphilosophy seems to attract people who say shit that is dumb in exactly this way (as opposed to all the other ways you can be dumb), and so this has served me well as model for what these people are doing wrong.

Anyway, this is actually the root cause, one suspects, of the asker's knowledge gap that I mentioned at the beginning of the post. A "philosopher king" is not in fact some special category of king that really existed, but an idea discussed by Plato in the Republic. It's fine that this person doesn't know this, but if they had tried to figure out what "philosopher king" actually means before saying it, they probably would have learned this fact.

If I could give one piece of advice to everyone on Earth and have them really take it seriously, it would probably be "think about what you mean before your say it".

[punkeropercyjackson]

I really resent the idea Hobie isn't traumatized or has no mental health problems/emotional issues because he's so clearly an allegory for the adultification of black kids(and therefore actually one)like how Gwen is obviously an allegory for trans girls(and therefore actually one).The most you'll get out of Atsv fans on it is 'he grew up too fast' but they never go in depth into how much it must've hurt him and who hurt him.Society as a whole,no duh,but in the comics,he's implied to be an orphan and the only incarnations we have of his parents are his dad abandoning him as a baby and his mom turning abusive over it.That's what adultification,objectively,is-Child abuse.Hobie's not 'practically an adult',he is mentally and physically a minor and he was robbed of the right to be one nonstop,systematically.He had to fight for his right to exist,he has to fight for others right to exist and he dosen't really get to rest and just feel like a real kid all that often.Plus,realistically,Hobie isn't looked on positively in his world and that would do damage to anybody's self-eestem as a highly profilic public figure but especially to a black child and while he's the coolest ever the whole time,i can't buy he's always known that and i'll bet he was told the opposite by other kids growing up and how socially awkward he is sometimes makes me think his number of friends wasn't all that high and a common experience amongst alt/punk black kids is isolation and bullying from other children for being 'weird' and there's the confirmation he used to be homeless before his houseboat so the orphan status seems to be carried over to this take on him too

I know he wasn't onscreen for as long as Gwen so i don't fault people for not recognizing this and focusing moreso on her explicit traumatic experiences,moreover since it tends to involve him comforting her and i'm a sucker for troubled kid solidarity and romance,most of all since this one is canonically t4t and possibly transmasc4transfem specifically and even punk4punk too instead of them 'he was a punk,she did ballet' poserpills

Still,lack of screentime never stopped anyone for making up tons of tragic aus for Pavitr and even The Spot and erasing Jefferson and Rio to do with them Miles too as if Miles G dosen't exist and pulled it off infinitely better than any fanon alternative universe Miles i've ever encountered.This is going to get some people tweaking too but this is also exactly why i hate No.irpunk and even the platonic concept of Hobie instantly respecting Noir.Hobie has much more street cred than Noir and way heavier trauma and Noir isn't even punk-He's an antifa but punk is a culture,not just an ideology and i find it an unearned superiority complex N/H shippers will disregard Hobie's actual romantic chemistry with Gwen based on her loving him for who he is and giving somebody to bond over mutual interests with and heal his inner child in the process to say he should be a freedom fighter and nothing more,as if he's not a 17 year old black boy and Noir very,VERY likely a middle aged white man who's culture(not punk)(judaism)is against pedophillic relathionships as a religious rule.There's no evidence for Hobie being an adult but there's plenty borderline text saying he's an adultified black teenager and i wish it was spoken on instead of performative 'lmao fuck captalism' jokes as you buy official Atsv merch and stereotyped sexualization over a character who never got to grow up,not as a 'real kid' nor enough to be in the proper headspace to explore his sexuality as openly as a normal teen

[of-pale]

If Nero has 200 IQ, this is the phone he’d gift to the twins.

Yep, the myth, the legend, the one and only indestructible force in the universe - Nokia 3310. I think it would be hilarious if Nero gave the twins one phone, because:

a) they need to learn to share

b) by combining their singular brain cells together into a rich commonwealth of two, they might just figure out how to work the phone

Of course, the indestructibile nature of this phone is a necessary feature. Now, you might be wondering why?

Nero decides to give the twins a call, maybe invite them over for dinner. After only a minute of waiting, Dante picks up. The background echoes with gunshots, exclamations of 'schum’ and menacing demon screams in a clear indication that the twins were out on a job.

“Hey, what's up, kid?”

“Uh sorry, you busy?”

“Never too busy for my favourite nephew.”

“I'm your only nephew.”

“Doesn't make it less true.”

“Suuure. Look, can you pass the phone to Vergil? I need to ask him something.”

“Aw, you're breaking my heart. Here I thought we had something special.”

Next, Nero hears demon screeches growing louder. A loud crack. Some shuffling noises before Vergil calmly answers the call.

Now it's time to play a game of ‘guess what the hell happened there’!

If you guessed - ‘Dante, being Dante, decided to showcase his phone-passing skills by bouncing it off a demon’s skull over to Vergil’ - then you're correct! A clear example of why the twins need a phone that can endure some serious beating. I'm also a firm believer that the Nokia could double as a weapon of great destruction in the field. I doubt getting hit with that brick on the head was easy to shrug off for the unlucky demon.

Real question though, what would the twins set Nero's ringtone as? And vice versa, Nero's ringtone for twins? (I know, I know, Nokia 3310 doesn't have a custom ringtone feature, but shhhh.. Nico works her miracles on the phone.)

Depeche Mode - Personal Jesus?

I mean, teeeechnically the twins are sons of a god? Or could it be Vergil referring to Nero as his son?

Guns N’ Roses - Sweet Child O’ Mine?

Need I say more? Although it would be hilarious if Nero set it as a ringtone for the twins.

He sighs deeply upon hearing the familiar ringtone, knowing it could entail anything from a world-ending cataclysm to another petty squabble. So he pauses his conversation with a Fortuna resident, saying, “Sorry, I gotta get this. Kids are calling.”

“Awww, and how have the orphans settled in?”

“Huh? No, my other kids.”

The Fortunan looks at him in confusion just as Nero finally picks up the call and starts pacing.

“What's up, dipshit?”

“Sounds like a you problem to me.”

“What? No, I won't talk to Vergil for you. What are you, five?”

“Look, you fucked yourself into that problem; you can fuck yourself out of it.”

Nero quickly drops the call and turns back to the person he was speaking to. “Sorry about that.” The resident only gives him a weird stink-eye, and Nero finally catches on to what's the issue. He coughs awkwardly and tries to smooth the situation, “Forty-year-old children, am I right?”

Ghostbusters theme?

Depends on how common knowledge demons are. The Sparda's might be ‘ghostbusters’ as in the myth catchers for hire.

Yeah, I'm gonna stop this long rambling shitpost here. Otherwise, I could keep listing ringtones on and on.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I changed my name because people are overusing the nickname privilege?

2 years ago, I (29, transmasculine) changed my name. For the sake of this ask, since I don't want to use my real name, a decent equivalent is James, so I'll be using that instead.

I originally told my mom and my roommate/close friend (Alex, 29, agender) I was okay with the nickname Jamie, but I'd prefer to mostly be called James, especially when it comes to people I don't know well.

I tried to set this boundary because the nickname feels a little feminine, even if it's technically gender neutral. I don't pass very often, so it makes me uncomfortable to think people who don't know me might misunderstand, and think I am simply a woman with a gender neutral nickname. So I envisioned Jamie being reserved for the people closest to me because of that.

Both my mom and Alex opted to call me Jamie immediately. They introduced me to friends, family members, and even strangers as Jamie, put my name in their phone as Jamie. My mom sends me packages addressed to "Jamie [lastname]". Just the other day, Alex's grandma sent us chocolates in the mail and the note inside said "Merry Christmas Alex and Jamie!" and I am not close to her by any means, I am positive Alex must have told her that's my name. Just tons and tons of little things like that.

It took me a while to catch on - at first I thought people simply decided to call me Jamie on their own, or heard Alex or my mom talk to me and figured it was okay. I'm autistic, so it takes a while to figure out the best way to approach a problem involving social skills. I didn't want to immediately jump in and say "hey, don't call me that, you don't know me well enough," because I think that's a bit callous. And I thought I was dealing with just a few acquaintances - not literally everyone Alex or my mom talks to.

I confronted both of them about a year ago, when I finally put it together. They said they're not intentionally disregarding my feelings, but "Jamie suits you so much more" so they forget and it just slips out.

(I could be wrong, but I think this is probably because Jamie can be a girl's name and I still look like a girl. So, yeah, of course they'd feel that way.)

I begged them to stop and call me James if they're talking to people about me. My mom promptly "forgot" again. Alex has gotten better about it, but still slips up. Even if they were perfect, I feel like the damage is done after 2 years of this.

To further complicate things, Alex actively avoids using pronouns to refer to people in speech. They will say things like "I've been told that the flight was canceled" instead of "he said he canceled the flight". This is due to anxiety because they're not great at remembering pronouns & doesn't want to accidentally misgender anyone. So there is a lot of general confusion about my pronouns amongst the groups that are connected to Alex. (I don't really use social media, so informing people of my pronouns is more complicated than just putting them in my bio and calling it a day. I've asked Alex to please just say he/him, but they're so resistant and weird about it because of their irrational fears, which...honestly just feels transphobic now).

Now I've started to ask them to drop the nickname entirely, even privately. Call me James and nothing else forever. Jamie has been thoroughly ruined for me, I just feel nauseous when I see or hear it. But at this point, since I lost my job & most of my social network is through Alex, everyone calls me Jamie, and it's exhausting to correct them over and over when it's such a small, seemingly pedantic thing. I don't mind a little confrontation or advocating for myself, but this...this is beyond what I can handle without getting severely stressed out.

So I've been considering changing my name to something else that doesn't have such a common gender neutral/feminine nickname. Just start over. Reset.

But this would be the third time I've changed my name. The first time was like 6 years ago, and it only lasted a few months before I decided it didn't fit, and went back to using my deadname while I figured myself out. My family remembers this well, and 2 years ago when I told them I go by James now, expressed their frustration because I "keep changing things and it's confusing". I'm worried that if I change my name again, nobody will bother to take it seriously, they'll just assume I'll change it again, so why bother using the correct name at all.

Plus I do see how it could be considered petty or immature. It took years to settle on the name I have now. I put a ton of thought into it. I used to love it. I might be TA for letting something as unimportant as an overused nickname sway me to the point where I feel like I need to throw the whole name away.

I mean, I understand why younger trans people might do that, since they have less of their life established and are figuring out who they are, but I'm nearly 30, so I feel like I am getting too old for this. It's just tiring.

Idk, I probably won't make any decisions based on the results of this, but the feedback would be helpful to consider. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 17

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 17: meeting the overlords

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm sure you can all imagine why I called you here," Lucifer began. "Humans are starting to put together that Full mages are not from their world. As I've stated in previous meetings, we should be revealing ourselves, not waiting to be discovered."

I scanned the face of every Overlord at the table. They were all in their Demon form, some more terrifying than others. There were eighteen Overlords in total but each one had a second hand, putting the overall count at 36 individuals. 37 if you counted the King of Hell.

"A decade ago we had decided to wait some time before revealing ourselves," one of the Overlords said. She had long white horns and huge, white clawed hands. Her eyes were blood shot red. "Why the change of heart?"

My shoulders stiffened when I realized who sat two seats down from her. The man was wearing his pink hat and jacket. It was the owner of the fighting ring who drugged me. I couldn't tell where he was looking with his glasses covering most of his face.

"We were, but then someone went crazy on the surface." The man who spoke wore a navy blue suit and had a flatscreen TV for a face. His voice sounded familiar. "Tricking them with the whole illusion magic doesn't work when you massacre them with the 'illusion'."

"I do believe you were the one who broadcasted the whole thing, old friend," Alastor didn't hesitate. "What was it you said? You're all in for a real treat, tonight?"

"It was your choice to come out the way you did. I was just doing what I do best."

"I fail to see the problem when your broadcast barely had sight of me. We all know how unreliable it can be."

"How about all the people who escaped to tell the--"

"Regardless of how or why it happened, it did," Lucifer interrupted, "and we need to decide what the next steps will be. I'd like to hear from the surface Overlords about announcing ourselves to the surface."

"Now?!" someone yelled from the other end of the table.

"Yes, now," he answered firmly. "Thanks to Alastor's incident--" radio static caught in the Radio Demon's throat "--we'll need to reveal ourselves soon. We need to set our historic record straight and keep it that way."

A moment of silence fell over everyone's head. They looked between each other with various expressions, no one quite sure what to say next. I looked at the Demons standing behind them but most of them had blank stares, revealing nothing about their own thoughts.

"Why do we need to do anything if they're going to figure it out anyways?" someone finally asked.

A woman with large pigtails sitting beside the ring owner laughed. "Do you want to stay an Overlord on the surface? Humans are notorious for killing anything that poses a threat to them."

"We have to show that Demons are more than just humans with more-than-average magic," the TV added. "If we don't, they'll hunt us down for sport. There's more of them than there are of us by a large margin."

"Why are we worrying about being hunted? Humans with Slight magic are no match for Demons." The Overlord was a huge humanoid wolf with neon colors all over.

"Humans together under a common cause are a match for Demons," the woman in white said. "It's important to set a precedent before they realize they can outman us."

"How does thy propose to accomplish such a feat?" This Demon had two sets of bright green eyes and his cloak wrapped tightly around his body.

Demons started looking between Alastor and the TV.

"A television broadcast wouldn't be a bad idea," the TV man smiled.

"Aren't we expecting to reach the entire surface? You barely cover a continent as is," Alastor challenged.

"I advance more with every passing day. It would take less than a month to have a reach all over the surface. Something that can be accomplished if your highness provides proper resources." He nodded his head to Lucifer.

"Yet I've been broadcasting to the entire surface for centuries," Alastor said. "Since the Great Collapse, radio has been the only reliable source of communication."

"Who would believe the word of a Demon who's been tormenting them for hundreds of years?" he snapped back. "People can see a Demon for themselves instead of taking your word."

"Television can be fabricated."

"A radio host can lie."

"They're both important," Lucifer interjected, "and having both can solidify what we're trying to do. Vox, I can provide the resources you need to expand. Alastor, you'll wait for my word before you broadcast." The Radio Demon's eyes narrowed in response.

"What exactly are we broadcasting?" Vox asked, seemingly bored now. He scratched at his bright blue claws. "Humans know Demons as Full mages. Are we merely changing our name?"

"Humans," Lucifer explained, "use the term Full mages to mean anyone who can control more than just the basic elements. But Full mage Humans and Demons are two different species."

"What is the difference?" the neon wolf asked. I was surprised to notice a collection of nods from the rest of the Overlords. How much of their own history did they not know?

"The main difference is that we have control over Existence magic. So dark, chrono, and cosmo magic. Humans have no control over such magic. Demons can control various advance magic, even bending and expanding it, such as technology magic." He gestured to Vox, who casted a smirk in Alastor's direction. "Humans can control very few advance magic. The most I've seen a Human control is four. Demons have access to all, though many of you know it's best to pick a few to master."

"You don't expect to share this information with Humans, do you?" the woman in white questioned. "Giving up such crucial information could lead to our ultimate downfall."

"You're right," Lucifer agreed, "That would give them too much information about us. But we need them to be aware of the difference between Human Full mages and Demons. Aside from appearances of course." He looked down the eighteen frightening faces.

"I say we tell them we can control everything," Pigtails suggested. Well, more like declared. "They'll never know. If we scare them into thinking we can master any and all elements of life, they couldn't imagine fighting against something so powerful. And appearances would just confirm it."

"What happens if they develop the technology to rival our power?" the woman in white asked.

"I don't think you'd be around to see that day," Pigtails shot at her, "And besides, we'll just keep them from getting to that point. They're all about advertising their new inventions. Riding of it and its inventor is easy."

"Thou would be foolish to not prepare for thy future." The man dressed in black with neon eyes spoke before the woman could.

Lucifer nodded. "It's something to be concerned about, but it's something to discuss only after we've revealed ourselves."

"Sooo." Vox ran his long claw across the table so it made a screeching noise. I clenched my jaw and dampened the noise. "We're telling the Humans that we can control any and every element. What happens if they get angry?"

"Surface Overlords have been up there for quite some time." Lucifer crossed his arms. "How would you handle an uprising?"

"Same way as down here," the ring owner beside Vox answered, "Fear, manipulation, and manpower."

"I would advise surface Overlords to maintain and increase this manpower." Lucifer stood from his chair. "I will contact all of you when we are ready to reveal ourselves. As for you two," he looked to Alastor and Vox, "we will speak privately about what exactly you will be broadcasting. This meeting is over."

Everyone filed out of the room within minutes. Rosie casted a smile and a small wave in my direction as she left. As she did, another woman walked in. She wore an all red suite and had long, gorgeous blonde hair. She was followed by a shorter woman who had a lot of silver hair and large red X over her eye.

The pair quickly made their way over to me, the blonde energetically introducing herself as Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer. I was speaking to Princess of Hell.

"Are you really Alastor's soulmate?" She got really close to my face. Alastor casted a glance over his shoulder at me.

"Uh, yeah."

"I can't believe it! I never thought he would have one."

"Doesn't everyone get a soulmate?"

"Demons never had soulmates until they could go to the surface. Once the portal opened they started to get them, so a lot of the old Overlords don't have one." She spoke so fast it was taking an extra effort to comprehend it all.

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"It's pretty cool if you think about it. But you have to tell me what it's like being his soulmate. Ever since I met him he's always bragged about not being chained down to a soulmate."

"Oh uh..." How do you answer a question like that? I noticed Alastor had cocked his head a little to hear better. How was he paying attention to both his conversation and this one at the same time? "He's uh...how long have you known him?"

"Well I've personally known him for only about a century, now."

"Oh. Uh...and how long have you known of him?"

"He's been a nuisance for everyone for centuries," the other girl mused.

"Interesting." I played off my sudden realization.

"So what's he like?" Charlie pressed. "He's always going on about everything just being entertainment and not getting attached to anyone."

"Oh, well, he hasn't really changed then. I didn't think I had one either, quite honestly."

"Were you really a ring fighter?" the other girl abruptly asked.

"Vaggie—"

"What?"

"I was," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"It was just really cool to watch you fight. I saw the whole thing online. You were amazing!"

"Oh." My face grew warm. "Uh, I really didn't do well."

"Sure you did. Were you taught how to fight or did you learn it from the rings?"

"I learnt it."

"How many rings did you take down?" Charlie asked.

"I think seven? But I didn't really take them down. They started back up a week later." I folded my arms together, drawing in on myself.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. I looked between it and her, surprised at how friendly she was being toward me. "I know a thing or two about failure."

"Charlie..."

"It's okay Vaggie."

"What do you mean?" I gently pushed.

"I tried saving my people awhile back and it didn't really work out. I tried to redeem sinners and Demons so they could go to Heaven but...it kinda fell through."

"How come?" I turned to face her completely.

"Well, it was going alright but then the portal to the surface opened. And what was the point of being redeemed when they could relive life on the surface?"

"Oh, that's really bad timing." I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that there was a Heaven and Hell in the first place, and that the Princess of Hell was telling me she was centuries old. She seemed more like my age.

"Yeah. But I figured I would wait and try again in a different way. Reimagine it!" Her eyes widened and she looked like a little kid with a gloriously bad idea.

"I think you totally should," I agreed. "What's the harm in trying again?"

"Exxxactly!" Her smile widened even more. "And you shouldn't give up taking down those fighting rings. Who knows what kind of Demon children are stuck in them? You're the only one giving any of them hope."

My mind started to wander. "Yeah...I guess so."

"We've got to keep in touch." Charlie pulled out her phone.

"Oh, I don't have one," I said nervously.

"Pfft, of course not," Vaggie sent a glare into Alastor's back, "Someone's still in the dark age."

"Yeah, well, Husker is the only one who's got a phone. And it's a pretty old one too."

"We'll connect through him then. I already have his number in my contacts."

"You already know him?"

The two of them laughed. "He and Alastor were a part of my hotel before it went under."

I nodded slowly. Alastor was in a heated discussion with Vox and Lucifer. They were all sending shots back and forth at each other, only Alastor remained in his seat while the other two were on their feet and pointing fingers.

"Maybe give it a break and meet another time?" Charlie quickly walked over. She put a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Charlie is right, per usual." Alastor half bowed his head to her.

"Of course she is," Lucifer crossed his arms. I didn't realize how short he was until Charlie stood next to him. She was my height and yet he was shorter than her shoulders.

"Come dear," Alastor said to me as he stood, "let us go home. This has been quite a productive meeting." It sounded more sarcastic than anything. Vox tried to say something but he was glitching all over. I was shocked I didn't see any smoke coming from his television head.

Charlie and Vaggie both waved as we left. I was close on Alastor's heels until we left the palace. I took the opportunity to look around at Hell. Everything was red but it looked like a normal city. The only give away was its inhuman inhabitants.

Alastor wrapped a hand around my shoulders as we teleported back to the house. I was shocked at the temperature difference. The night had been warm when we left but now the wind was like an icy chill that went right through my bones. Alastor walked ahead but I didn't follow.

"Alastor," I called. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I um...I'd like...I'd like you to teach me magic, again."

"Why's that?"

I wasn't expecting him to ask why. He's been pushing my training so much, why wouldn't he want me to accept it? I struggled for a response and he let the air hang silent for several moments.

"Because that's how I want the next hundred years to go," I finally said. It was true, to an extent, but I had other reasons for wanting it. Reasons I didn't want him to know.

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to detect the lie. He smiled wide so his yellow teeth showed. "A wise choice, my dear."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Lots of dialogue and information but much needed! Looks like things are going to start turning around for us. Feel free to ask questions or leave any comments. I love interacting with you all!

[lolliepops-rox]

Hello 2024 Hetalia fandom. I want to talk about schizophrenic Arthur Kirkland.

Background: I myself is someone with psychosis, along with experience with schizophrenic family members. I'm not talking completely out of my ass. But not do I obviously speak for every mental ill person ever. Moreover, I am pulling on the way being a nation would affect his relationship with being schizophrenic.

I am extremely new to the fandom, but my best friend who has been here for a decade has talked with me about how the idea was handled in the past. I want to give this headcanon a genuine and sincere look at it, because I think it's interesting and I want to project onto Arthur a little.

One of the reasons he's a terrible cook is actually because of his schizophrenia. Disordered thinking means he struggles to follow steps in a recipe. The impact on his motor skills makes him even worse. Please do not give this man a knife. He will cut himself.

I think because of his own experience with cooking, he is prone to food related paranoia, things like it being rotten or poisoned, sometimes affected by the era/current events. During times of famine he's gonna lean towards rotten, verse maybe some civil unrest leading to him thinking his food is poisoned. Disordered eating is a huge problem for him. (We found out partly where Alfred gets it from lol)

Continuing with the food theme, smelling rotten food is a common hallucination for him. Olfactory hallucinations just make sense for him to me, so the smell of fire and gas is a common one too. (This is partly the effect of the many London fires throughout the centuries).

In terms of visional hallucinations, I don't think he'd be very prone to it. Reality checks for them he'd have to rely on his British Isles brothers for them, due to being able to see actual mythical creatures. This is made hard by the fact he's often not on speaking terms with his brothers. This has resulted in an incident where Arthur had assumed a creature following him was a hallucination, that turned out to be real and was HIGHLY offended at being ignored for so long.

In terms of delusions, being a public figure makes discerning reality difficult at times. He is super prone to delusions about being hated by everyone, or being the most popular person ever. This can be hard to reality check because well, he is famous, and sometimes the public does hate him, and people have tried to kill him. My poor man's ego can NOT handle being a public figure with schizophrenia.

England, circa. 2003, on the phone to his PA: Can you send someone over? Either someone is trying to kill me, I'm having another episode, or both. I am not leaving my house until this is resolved. Thanks.

In terms of disordered movement, he would get slapped with that very 'childish' label. Arthur holds himself and moves in a way that looks weird to others. He moves way too much, everything has more motion and steps than necessary, overly fluid. It often leads to people getting accidentally hit by a stray hand from Arthur.

Arthur is NOTORIOUS for his word salad. I feel like Francis over the years has adjusted to understand a lot of Arthur's word salad but still sometimes it's like

Arthur: -gibberish- Antonio: uhhh what did he say? Francis: Don't look at me, this is even beyond my understanding of England.

Alfred is the worst of the native English speaking countries when it comes to understanding Arthur's word salad. Like Ludwig is better at guessing what Arthur meant than Alfred is.

Anyways, that's some of my thoughts <3 I would love to hear other people's ideas & feedback. Thnx xD

[cripplecharacters]

I have a character who is nonverbal, intellectually disabled, and uses an AAC device. I'm wondering how I would write down her inner thoughts and monologue? Would she think in full English sentences, in AAC symbols, or something else?

Hi asker,

I will start off by letting you know that there is no single definitive answer for this, but I still have thoughts and ideas.

So, as for the question of would she think in AAC symbols or English sentences, that really depends on your character. It could be either.

Some nonverbal people, but not all, don't think in words at all, but more in images or associations, so this could be the case of your character and might even be part of why they are nonverbal and need AAC. (Some people who aren't nonverbal also don't think in words either, but your character is, so that's what I'll focus on here!)

Your character could also think in words. They might think entirely in words, or partly. They might think in what you would think of as more 'standard' English sentences, or maybe more simplified sentences.

For example, it's common for people with ID to use simpler syntax and/or less abstract language. But language abilities are a wide range, and this can extend to AAC usage. Some people might use more complex sentences, while some might might only be able to use two words in a sentence. Some people might get the hang of pronouns, and some might not. Some people might get the hang of conjugating verbs, some might not. Some people speak more slowly or with more pauses. You have a lot of leeway in how to conceptualize your character's thoughts.

I want to add one thing: a lot of ways that people with ID people can speak are used to make fun of people. Slower speech, simple sentences, not conjugating some words, stuff like that. If you include this, you have to take care to make sure that the message you’re sending by including them is “some people just talk like this” and not “isn’t it so funny/weird/gross/weird that some people talk this way? Let’s make fun of it/focus on how weird and different (derogatory) it is”.

However, the limitations of a written medium is that at the end of the day you will in fact have to use words to write what is going on in her brain, even if she doesn't think in words.

So I would say: focus on figuring out how your character manages language, since there’s many different ways they can, and then once you decide that it might be easier to figure out exactly how to write them. Mod sasza has even more points below!

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

Hey, I'd consider how your character learned language. If her first exposure was a symbol-based AAC device, there's a higher chance she'd think in AAC symbols than if she first communicated via sign language or anything else that's not a symbol-based AAC device.

I'm fully verbal and actually mostly think in associations and other non-language ways like pictures (though when I'm imagining things like an actual conversation, I do use language). That's why for me and a lot of other people with ID (verbal or not) it can take longer to think of what to say; you need to translate your thoughts to language first.

With your character having much more severe language disability than me, I'd guess that she either used very simple sentence construction or that you'd have to describe her thoughts in a less direct manner (associations or visuals), which will be more time-consuming to write and more cryptic to readers (which makes it realistic, communication with people with significant language problems takes longer, if mind reading was real it would apply to it too).

You should definitely consider the things mentioned by Sparrow; whether she understands pronouns, conjugation, can she differentiate similar words correctly (e.g., love/like, handsome/pretty), etc.

Depending on her level of ID, she might think "I'm hungry" as anything between "Damn, I wish I was eating a burger right now" (complete English sentence) through "Yes food" (in which "yes" means positive rather than agreeing with someone) or "Images of her home kitchen flashed through her head" (simply associating kitchen with the feeling of hunger), to "Two symbols from her board; one meaning 'me' with the second showing an empty plate, went through her mind over and over". There is a big difference between a person with mild ID who might be unable to speak because they can't coordinate their mouth to make actual words but don't struggle with grammar at all, and a person with a profound ID whose entire AAC board is "yes" and "no" (or not even that, but I wanted an example to show what could be someone's existing-but-very-limited language ability).

Obviously some of these are more clunky, some are less so. But the way a lot of nonverbal ID people communicate isn't perfectly clear and direct, and there is a lot of variety in the manner that it shows.

I also wrote this post about speech in intellectual disability that you might find useful. I hope this helps,

mod Sasza