#cw for bad parents/grandparents but thats about it

[vampdes]

— “FOREVER N EVER!” [issac headcanons / facts ♡]

GENRE. headcanons / fluff.

PAIRING. issac [oc] x gn reader

CW. lowercase intended, traumatic past / mentions of [abandonment + being disowned + body shaming] + extra facts about issac.

NOTES. this is so damn late 🧍🏾‍♀️ BUT THATS OKAY, better late than not at all 😭 this took a month [i was on and off bro], ENJOY!! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

FACTS / HEADCANONS [abt issac <3].

☆ issac loves likes space + his favorite constellation ‘orion’ ‘cause of how bright it is [it also reminds him of u <3] + his favorite planet [in solar system] is saturn!! mainly cause of its rings [hint, hint] <3

☆ issac’s an ex-florist + ex-baker, which he why he likes flowers n baking!! which is why he vows to bake something for you every single day, js so u could be reminded of him 24/7!! n yes, sometimes, if he feels that he hasn’t been getting enough attention, he’ll add some ‘icing’ on the cookies <3 js so u could have some of him inside of u when he’s too busy!!

☆ [brief mentions of abandonment + body shaming] issac was, unfortunately, abandoned by his biological parents, his grandparents, his aunt, and then his foster parents, which converted into severe abandonment issues. everyone tossed him away because of his looks n body. in his younger years, he was called a lot of bad names ‘cause of his weight at the time. n honestly, he expected u to do the same.. but u were different, u are different! u think he’s ‘pretty’ n ‘beautiful’, u even called him an angel for crying out loud!! he loves u so much :(( he js can’t say it cause he gets so nervous!

☆ issac absolutely despises his stutter. can he talk to himself? YES, PERFECTLY. BUT WHEN HE TALKS TO U, ALL OF A SUDDEN HE’S A JITTERBOX!!! he thinks he makes a fool of himself when he talks to u :(( n when he met u for the first time—eugh, he hated it!! not cause u were there, no cause u were there, in front of him.. n u were prettier than ever n he couldn’t even say it!! everytime he wants to say smth nice abt u, he can’t ‘cause he gets to nervous!! its horrible :((

☆ on a happier note, he loves it when u paint his nails :D mainly ‘cause ure holding his hands n ure making him look pretty <3 he also loves when u re-dye his hair 4 him!! he favorite color is, unfortunately, neon green, which is why a strip of his hair is neon green <3 nevertheless, he loves it when u re-dye his hair, mainly ‘cause u wanna touch his hair!! it makes him so happy <33 n when u offer 2 help w his (your) hair care routine, he gets all giddy!! it’s ‘cause of u that his hair is silky n soft now, n he wants to keep it that way ‘cause he think it makes him look pretty <3 n, most important of all, it makes him feel pretty <3

☆ ALSSOOO, he’s a makeup guru. it’s like the easiest thing he’s great at. N YES, URE HIS MUSE ♡ he likes to try makeup looks on u, especially when he gets to straddle u <3 LIKE HE CAN’T GET OVER IT AAA!! n yes, he uses makeup as an excuse to straddle u sometimes [all the time]. ALSOOOO, he’s a gamer. HES LITERALLY SO EMBARRASSED ABT BEING A GAMER!!! he’s a valorant player btw.. he’s also an avid roblox player, his favorite game is royale high ♡

☆ TIME TO TALK MORE ABT HIS EXCELLENT BAKING + FLORAL SKILLS <3 baking: his favorite thing to bake is red velvet fudge brownies!! he absolutely can’t stand dark / mint chocolate tho, but if u like he, he’ll be able to stand it [maybe] <3 floral: his favorite flower is ‘baby’s breath’ ‘cause it reminds him of u <3 in a “it’s really pretty n it shines as brightly as the sun” way!! on special occasions [when u run out of pastries / flowers], he gifts u flowers / baked goods <3 once, he gave u a bouquet of baby’s breath, orchids, n bearded irises <3 n when u were too sick to leave home [thank god, he doesn’t like when u leave honestly!! he misses u 2 much :((], he fixed u some strawberry shortcake <3 [he looked up deserts 4 sick people js to make sure it was safe 4 u 2 eat!!]

☆ EXTRA: he fell in love w u at first sight!! his favorite cuddling position is either spooning [your arms around him] or face-to-chest [his face in ur chest <3.] he also loves having lazy weekdays where all u two do is laze around the house or stay in bed!! makes him feel comfy + secure <3 he also has matching sonic onesies w u [hes tails n ure sonic] but he only wears in on special occasions [ex: date night (when date night’s at home) + when it’s lazy weekdays in the winter <3.] he also loves surprise kisses!! n expected ones <3 he js likes the feeling of ur lips in general!! he also likes when u tuck his hair behind his ear ‘cause it was getting in his eyes <3 he also likes the fact that u like to be a homebody js like he is!! bc then date nights r so adorably mushy <3. LAST THING: issac has an shoulder-to-back + ankle tattoo n if u lightly [almost hesitantly] trace either of the them, u automatically have him melting in ur hands <3!!!

☆.

© CREDITS TO ur1nonlydan. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR COPY MY WORKS.

[moonssugar]

this is such an interesting poll so now i gotta respond (cw: mentions racism and bad parenting)

re kids having to call their parents sir and ma'am: its real and happens in the south and i hate it. not so sure about other regions of the us but i'd have to look into that. everyone else has already pointed out thats its a massive bad parenting red flag, basically a way to demand unconditional obedience and it makes parent-child relationships weirdly formal? which personally is every uncomfortable to me. this phenomenon does trend towards conservative christian families but thats water being wet since we're talking about the south so i don't know if thats a unique thing to them or a specific southern demographic thing (?)

i saw some other black southerners pointing out that we're often raised to sir and ma'am everybody older than us: yes and i always refused or avoided doing it lol. maybe its because im autistic and have already hated authority and because those kind of social rules confuse and irritate me. the hidden aspect of this though is that black people in the south were expected to automatically recognize everyone as their natural superior (like always using sir and ma'am for people older than them and always for white people, even those younger.) i think its a holdover from slavery and then segregation, the same as black men being called "boy" eternally while others get to be "sir'. not making yourself smaller and inferior to someone so they would feel secure in their assumed authority would often lead to violence so it was ingrained in people like my parents and grandparents and great grandparents. that being said, southern families across the board still expect this of their children even now in the 21st century.

but yea basically you can't ever dissect southern us culture without also dissecting the power dynamics and oppression that created it.

When I think about American attitudes to parenting there's something that always comes to mind, but I don't know whether it's a real thing. All my life in American films and TV I've heard child characters addressing their dads as "sir" or being told off for not doing so.

Is that really a commonplace thing in American families, or is it just a shorthand way of showing that the character is a shitty dad?

[voiceless-terror]

And Many Happy Returns

part 2 of my sequel to Inseparable, my childhood friends au. part one here.

Tuesday dawns quicker than Jon imagined it would. 

It’s not one of his best days. First of all, tomorrow is Martin’s birthday, which already has him antsy and distracted. Second, he keeps losing his train of thought whenever he talks to Martin and he’s definitely starting to think something’s up. Third, he’s gotta tell him he can’t play today.

“I’m going to the store with Nan tonight, she wants me to help pick out the groceries,” he says, tearing his sandwich into bits and trying to maintain eye contact with Martin. Nan always thinks he’s lying when he doesn’t meet her eyes. “She says I’m too picky cause I won’t eat anything she gives me.” That’s true, though she wouldn’t remedy it by letting him pick out his own food. She’d just let him go hungry.

“You should eat it anyway,” Martin says, his brow furrowing in concern. “You’ll never grow tall if you don’t eat dinner.” He sounds like one of those TV adverts on the kid channels. Jon has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine.” He shoves a bit of sandwich in his mouth. Martin worries too much, and not about the right things. He’s going to make sure Martin has a worry-free birthday. Even if it means making him worry extra today, which kind of cancels it out. He tries to remind himself that feelings aren’t math, though it sure would make things a lot easier if they were. Emotions are messy and Jon doesn’t always understand them.

At the end of the day Martin parts from him reluctantly, and Jon tries not to let it bother him. I’ll make him very happy tomorrow. It’ll be worth it. He drags his feet a bit on the walk, taking twice the normal amount of time to get home. By the time he opens the door, his nan’s already there, putting her purse over her shoulder.

“C’mon then, child,” she says, not sparing him a glance as she slips into her shoes. “Don’t dawdle.” Jon follows suit, throwing his backpack haphazardly on a pile of shoes and bounding out towards the car. He’s usually not a fan of car rides with his Nan; she doesn’t like to play music and she isn’t a fan of Jon’s ‘incessant chattering,’ so they can get pretty boring. This time, however, he’s too distracted to let it bother him, and before he knows it, they’re pulling into the car park. 

Nan insists on doing her shopping first, so Jon has a lot of time to stew. What if they don’t have what he wants? What if they’re all out of cupcakes and Jon has to get him some sort of cookie? What if he has to get him an oatmeal raisin cookie? That would be a disaster. Martin likes them, but they’re just so boring. 

Jon almost breaks out into a sprint when they finally reach the bakery section, but a sharp tug on his arm stops him. He takes exaggeratedly slow steps to the far right counter, where he can spot the birthday cakes and a small selection of cupcakes. Jon’s eyes scan over the rather limited options until he finds it. The perfect one.

He taps on the glass emphatically. “That one. The one with the orange icing.”

His grandmother leans down beside him, her mouth drawn in a disapproving frown. He hopes she hasn’t changed her mind- usually if he behaves, she’ll follow through on her promises. And Jon’s been very good, except for the whole almost-running thing. 

“Are you sure?” She points to a different one to the right, with boring blue icing and dumb baby sprinkles. “The blue one’s much nicer. Orange, it’s such an odd color for-”

Jon stamps his foot in outrage, a move that’s sure to get him in trouble later. “Martin’s hair is orange and it's fantastic! It has to be this one.” He pauses, well aware of the consequences of a tantrum and tacks on an insistent “please.” 

It gets the job down. She gives him one last exasperated sigh before motioning to one of the people behind the counter, pointing at Jon’s choice. He bounces on his feet as they wrap it in a nice little box and Nan carefully puts it in the seat of the cart. “Thank you thank you thank-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” But she’s giving him a little smile, and doesn’t even flinch when he throws his arms around her waist. “You’re welcome.” He gives her an extra good squeeze.

Almost there!

________

And finally it’s Wednesday. The big day. Martin’s day.

He’s spent all of last night fixing up his present, looking at it with a critical eye. He thinks Martin will like it. He hopes he will. Nan had given him the cupcake and told him to make sure he handled it very carefully, lest he get icing all over everything.

Jon’s not stupid. He can handle one cupcake.

“Jon!”

At the sound of Martin’s voice, Jon shoves the box into his backpack.

“Happy Birthday!” he shouts, throwing his arms around Martin and squeezing him tight. Martin’s wonderful at hugs, but Jon can give very good ones if he puts his mind to it. Martin pauses and it takes a few moments before he eagerly returns it.

“Y-You remembered!” Jon looks up from his spot in Martin’s sweater (it’s very soft) and resists the urge to scowl. There’s no scowling on people’s birthdays. 

“Of course. You only told me a few days ago.” He reluctantly parts from him and gives him a lookover- Martin’s not wearing anything special (besides the sweater, a nice light blue), he doesn’t look any different. Jon expected him to carry himself with a different air, like he’s seen older kids do. But eight year old Martin looks the same as seven year old him. Unless he grew a centimeter or two overnight, as children are wont to do.

“I figured we could go to the park after school to celebrate.” Jon resists the urge to dance on his feet as Martin gives him a shy smile. “Well, not the park but the little clearing behind it- you know, the one where we found the headless doll-”

There’s a little path in the sparse woods nearby, where Martin and Jon like to go when the weather is nice. It’s as warm as it could be, and Jon made sure to clear the twigs from the area beforehand so it wasn’t so messy. He’s got a picnic blanket and everything.

“You don’t have to go through the trouble, not if you don’t want-”

“Martin,” Jon sighs, giving him a level look. “It’s not trouble if it’s you.”

His friend’s face immediately goes red at Jon’s words, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he manages to speak. Martin gets like that when he’s flustered, though Jon has no idea what he said to cause it. 

“I-I would like that, I think.”

“Good.”

Martin keeps shooting him shy smiles all day and Jon can’t keep still, he’s too excited! He’s almost tempted to give Martin the cupcake at lunch (he checks his bag- still good!), but he also brought a little surprise with that, and he’ll definitely get in trouble if they see him at school with it. Still, it takes everything in him not to just celebrate now. By the time the bell rings, Jon’s already out of his seat, tugging at Martin’s hand. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t throw you a party,” he says as he practically skips his way to the playground, Martin huffing alongside him. “But you know how Nan is, and I don’t really know who we’d invite. Better it’s just us.”  They bypass the playground and the few children on it until they make their way to the clearing. Some new twigs must have fallen since his visit on the weekend, and Jon impatiently kicks them aside and throws his backpack to the ground, rummaging through it. Martin stands patiently beside him, watching as he pulls out a ratty blanket and spreads it out on the grass with a flourish. He plops to the ground and pats the spot next to him, gesturing for Martin to sit.

“And for the last bit…” he digs around in his bag, pulling out the small container. The cupcakes gone all crooked and some of the icing’s smeared, so Jon turns that edge towards him. “Tada!””

And Martin just stares.

He’s starting to get nervous. Jon’s gotten good at figuring out Martin’s expressions, but this one is just plain weird. It’s just a lumpy cupcake and Martin’s staring at it like he’s liable to break into a million pieces. Jon’s starting to think he’s done something horribly wrong.

“You don’t like it?” he asks tentatively, starting to pull back. “Should I have gone with the blue one? I thought you liked orange-”

“I do.” Oh no. Martin’s voice has gone all squeaky and breaky, like when they read that book where the dog died at the end. “It’s just- It’s very nice of you. You didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did.” Jon says as soon as he realizes where this is going. “But here, hold this- I’m not done.”

“Not done?”

He digs around in his backpack again and pulls out the small box of matches he’d stolen from the cabinet and a tiny, single candle from some ancient cake pack. Nan had plenty of them, to light the cigarettes Jon’s not supposed to know she smokes. He’s seen her light them with ease, so it shouldn’t be that hard.

He turns and opens the container, still in Martin’s hands, and sticks the candle right in the middle. He takes the matches and tries to strike them against the black bit, fast and quick like his Nan does, but it only succeeds in breaking the match in half.

“Oops. Hold on.” He tries again to no avail, this time flinging the bent match to the side. Three. Four. Five more tries, and he’s starting to get real frustrated and embarrassed. He’s almost eight, for crying out loud. He should be able to light a match.

“Um, here. Let me.” Martin gestures for the pack and Jon reluctantly hands it over, taking the cupcake instead. With one smooth, easy motion, Martin strikes the match against the stripe and Jon watches in awe as it easily lights.

“Wow!”

“It’s not that hard.” He places it against the candle and shakes it out in his hand. He pauses for a moment, staring at the lit candle like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Well? Make a wish!”

“O-Oh! Right.” Martin closes his eyes, clearly concentrating real hard. So hard, in fact, that the wax is starting to melt a bit and Jon worries he’s forgotten to make a wish. A few more seconds pass and Martin blows it out gently. Jon would clap if his hands weren’t full. 

“Eat it!” he demands, and Martin complies, a smile on his face as he takes a hesitant nibble and nods in appreciation. “But I would like one bite, please. I want to know how orange tastes.”

Orange ends up tasting mostly like white and pink and all the other colors do. How boring. Martin seems to enjoy it, though, judging by the icing smeared across his face. He should’ve brought napkins.

“I, um, I also got you this,” Jon reaches into his backpack to pull out his actual present- it’s a bit crumpled, bent at the corners, but it’s managed to stand up pretty well in his backpack. Doesn’t even have any pencil marks on it! Martin seems to like his pictures, always keeping even the silliest of doodles, so he decided he’d give him a whole bunch at once, that way he can get a bunch of smiles from Martin. He threw away his more amateur attempts- he’d tried to draw just Martin, but the arms kept coming out real wonky so he decided to go with his busier drawings, so Martin wouldn’t be able to see how bad he was at proportions.

“It’s got a book cover and everything,” he explains excitedly, holding it out to Martin but not exactly letting him touch it yet. He’s not going to understand everything unless Jon walks him through it, obviously. Martin hovers near his shoulder looking weirdly nervous, so Jon sidles up to him.

“Here’s us at school, at our tree, in the library- oh! This is just a page of dinosaurs. I used that book from the library as reference. It’s got really good pictures. I think they turned out pretty well, don’t you?” He points to his favorite one, a purple brontosaurus (he’s never seen any purple ones in the books, but it’s a very nice color). 

“Y-Yeah,” Martin replies, leaning further into his side. Jon likes when he does that. He can be pretty hesitant about touches, but he doesn’t need to be. Not with him. “It looks really nice, Jon.”

“Thank you.” Of course Martin would like it. He was so silly to worry. “And here’s that time you kicked that ball at Marcus- and here’s that dog I hate- and here’s our house-”

“Our house?”

Jon blinks, turning to look up at Martin. “Yeah. For when we’re big.” Martin continues to stare at him with big, bright eyes, like Jon’s an alien or something. Weird.

“A-Are we married?”

“Um, maybe.” Jon hadn’t really put much thought into that. He just supposes that when they grow up, they’ll get their own house. Well, first a flat in London, but then they’d get a big place when they were rich. Jon’s going to work with dinosaurs at a museum, there’s definitely money in that. They have to pay you a lot because the bones are so big. And Martin...what will Martin do? Firefighter, probably, on account of his height and his arms. Or maybe a doctor, since he’s so good at putting on plasters. 

I suppose we could be married. He’s not sure he ever wants to give Martin a kiss or have babies or anything like that, but it would be nice to have someone to hug on a permanent basis. He doesn’t want to get married in a church, though. The last time he’d been in one was during his mum’s funeral, and he thinks he’ll cry if he has to see a cross.

“I haven’t thought about it,” he decides; he doesn’t want to dash Martin’s dreams, since there’s still a distinct possibility it’ll happen. It just makes sense. “But you would have to get me a very shiny ring with lots of colors. None of those boring clear ones. Okay?”

Martin gives him a very good smile. “Okay.”

They spend a little bit more time going through the rest of the pictures- Jon explaining each one, and Martin nodding as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Martin’s very good at giving people his undivided attention. When they’re done, Martin hugs it to his chest like it’s something precious and beams.

“Thanks, Jon. I- I really like it.”

“Oh, good.” Jon tries not to let it show how much this pleases him, looking away from Martin’s beaming face even as he bounces a little on his knees. “I’m glad. I can make you one next year. And the year after that. All the years, really. I can’t wait for us to grow up and do lots of things together.” Now that Martin’s seen all his pictures and predictions, they need to start doing some planning, the two of them. They’ve got a good ten years before they graduate, and he wants to do some stuff in between.

“I can’t wait to drive everywhere like my mum does,” Martin says. Martin has a preoccupation with that, Jon noticed. Most kids are fine with bikes but Martin wants a car, he wants to go far places. Like Scotland, even. And you need a car for that. The thought of being behind the wheel fills Jon with anxiety.

“I don’t think I’m going to drive, ever,” he announces, plopping down beside Martin. “Cars are so big. I don’t know how I’d control them.”

“Mum says it's not that hard,” Martin says. “And once, Dad let me drive in his lap. Only a little bit, though. I think I can handle it.” Jon can very easily picture Martin behind the seat of a car. It’s just something he looks like he can do. 

“And don’t worry,” he continues. “I’ll drive you wherever you need to go. It’ll be fun.” It’ll definitely be an improvement over car rides with Nan. But anything with Martin is an improvement, he makes things fun just by being there.

“I guess. But I want to go on adventures,” Jon says emphatically.  “I want to go on a train ride around Europe. Visit all the museums and gardens and castles. We can do that together.”

“Go out and see the world, then?”

“Yeah.” He looks over to Martin, sitting there on Jon’s dirty little blanket with his present tucked against his chest and a far off look in his eyes, smiling at Jon like he’s hung the moon and suddenly they’re not in this stupid little clearing in stupid little Bournemouth, but somewhere else- a grand forest in Germany, or a field in France, or a cottage in the country. The world out there is large and scary and full of things he doesn’t understand, but he’s not alone anymore, fantasizing about adventures he’ll never have and places he’ll never go. He’s got Martin, now, and he makes the world a little more familiar, a little more safe.  His fantasies don’t seem so far away anymore. 

This is why people have friends, Jon thinks. It’s one thing to have a home and a family. Or a Nan, like Jon has. But when you have a friend, it’s like having a whole nother family. And when you see them it’s like coming home, even if you’re not at your house. And you’re not lonely or homesick cause even a dingy little clearing or a forest or a castle can be home, as long as you’re with them. 

“Jon,” Martin says, his voice interrupting Jon’s musings. “This is...really nice. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” Jon beams, nudging Martin’s leg with his foot. “I wanted you to have a good birthday. You’re my best friend!”

“I’m your only friend,” Martin corrects, though his face blanches as soon as the words come out. “I mean, you’re my only friend too, so I don’t have much room to talk.”

“Well, I’ve got you. I don’t need anyone else.” Jon rolls his eyes. He likes this whole friend business, but he doesn’t think he can handle another one right now. He’s got enough on his plate as is. 

“Yeah,” Martin says, nudging Jon back with a smile. “Neither do I.”

________

They spend the rest of daylight there, talking. Jon even offers to go on the tire swing, though the last time he threw up in his mouth a little. Martin declines with a knowing smile, and says he’s just fine sitting here. Jon thought he’d want a bit more excitement, but he’s willing to go along. It’s Martin’s birthday, after all. And the talking isn’t so bad. By the time they leave, they’ve got enough plans for the next twenty years. Martin’s hesitant about university, though, so Jon’s going to have to sell him on that one. He’s not going to share a dorm with some stranger when he’s got a perfectly good, perfectly smart friend who ought to be in school. 

On the walk back to Martin’s, they’re mostly silent. Jon knows Martin isn’t going home to a celebration, or a mum that’ll wish him a happy birthday, but he hopes today more than made up for it. He stares ahead for a few moments before he takes Martin’s hand.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Jon asks. He hates needing constant reassurance like this, but sometimes it’s better to just come out and ask instead of worrying all night.  “I haven’t planned a birthday before, and I’m not as good as a mum or dad at it, but I-”

“Jon,” Martin says, turning to him with that very good smile, one that Jon will try and fail to recreate in a hundred more doodles. “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He sounds like he means it, like today was enough and Jon did a good job. He beams in response.

He thinks his mum would be proud.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599192/chapters/76194152

[astrogobo]

this is probably just going to turn into a rant about my family so be warned (also cw: familial physical abuse i dont know if it rlly counts as abuse but be warned if thats a sensitive topic for you)

i really wish more people, especially overseas in less progressive cultures, were taught this type of thinking. i come from a mostly middle eastern family (my dad's side is mixed lebanese and syrian, my maternal grandparents are turkish and white). ive noticed, mostly in my paternal side (mainly cause we heavily avoid my mother's less open-minded sisters) but ive definitely seen it in both branches of the family, that theres a general belief that your body is essentially at the mercy of whatever your older relatives want. if they want to hug you, they Will hug you whether you want it or not, and if you try to refuse they'll hit you with a shoe and heavily guilt you for it. they essentially feel entitled to physical affection, and if they don't get it, its the other person's fault and they should be blamed and shamed for not engaging in said physical affection. although im mostly speaking from personal experience (because im the only one in my family who has a big enough issue with the physical affection that i try to stand up to them) ive also seen my (older, in their mid to late 20s) cousins be guilted and shamed into "making up" During unresolved arguments that really needed to be talked out, before they were done making their points and before they just Talked with the other person about how to fix the issue in the future. theres also the idea that if you dont love every person in your family unconditionally, you are a Bad Person who deserves to go to hell, even if that person did terribly toxic things to you that, if they were a friend, would absolutely result in ending the friendship / cutting that person off. (that is a situation that actually happened between two of my cousins - one told the other that if they werent family she would have cut him off long ago, and one of my aunts told her she was going to hell for even thinking that). also one last note it isnt just in my family, people at the mosque my parents go to also expect respect and physical affection/hugs from the children there and honestly thats probably a large part of why i have issues with physical affection now, cause growing up i was always forced into it, from family and family friends

anyways my point is: from my experience of arab culture, its very heavily against the sentiment in this post, which i believe is a very toxic mentality and is detrimental to literally everyone involved, including the people who feel entitled to physical affection from people who dont want to give it.