#or it's someone from your own culture (not like this with most adults now and this is one of the only exceptions)

[enfinizatics]

dear americans,

as a polish queer woman and human rights activist, i know exactly how you're feeling right now and what to expect from these elections. i lived through the 2015-2023 regime of pis, a right-wing populist party that divided families in the same way trump did. i’ve experienced the rise of fascism in poland, the influence of far-right parties like konfederacja, and their “santa’s little helpers”—ordo iuris, an ultra-conservative catholic organization (banned in many countries, mind you) that helped enforce a near-total abortion ban and runs anti-queer campaigns in public spaces. i supported the black protests in 2016 as a middle schooler when they first tried to ban abortion. as an adult, i actively participated in the 2020 women’s strike, running from police tear gas daily after they finally passed the ban. i supported friends who faced charges.

i’ve lived through intense homophobia in poland as a queer teen and adult. i survived the first pride march in my hometown, where far-right extremists threw stones and glass at us. i endured the anti-queer propaganda spread by the ruling party in state-owned media. i survived the “rainbow night,” poland’s own stonewall moment in summer 2020, when police arrested around 50 queer activists following the arrest of margo, a nonbinary activist. i survived the "lgbt-free zones," the targeted violence, the slurs from strangers on the street, and the protests i held against queerphobia. it was hard as fuck, but i survived.

but just because i survived, it doesn’t mean others did. many women died because of the abortion ban—marta, justyna, izabela, dorota, joanna, maria, and many others who didn’t survive pis’s draconian anti-abortion laws. milo, kacper, michał, zuzia (she was 12), wiktor, and other queer and trans kids and young adults took their own lives because of the relentless queerphobia.

despite all of this, our experience in poland can serve as a guide now. here are some tips for staying safe and how we, polish queers and women, organized under the regime:

safety first, always. if you know someone who’s had an abortion, no you don’t. if you know someone is trans, no you don’t. if you know people who help with safe abortions, no you don’t—at least not until you know it’s 100% safe to share. if you are queer or have had an abortion, only share this with people you trust fully. most importantly, not everyone has to be an activist just because they’re part of a minority. if it feels unsafe to share that you're queer, trans, etc., then don’t. it doesn’t make you any less queer.

use secure, encrypted messaging like signal for conversations on potentially risky topics, such as queerness, abortion, organizing counter-actions, protests—anything that might be used against you.

stay anonymous online. if you want to research or report something without surveillance, do not use regular internet. get a vpn (mullvad is affordable and reliable), download the tor browser (for both onion and standard links), and if you plan to whistleblow, consider using a riseup email account.

organize and build networks. community is everything now. support each other, foster independence, because your government won’t have your back. set up collectives, grassroots movements. create lists of trusted professionals—lawyers, doctors, etc.—who can offer support.

to lawyers and doctors: please consider pro-bono work. this is what got us through poland’s hardest times. your work will be needed now more than ever.

for protests or risky actions: always write a pro-bono lawyer’s number on your arm with a permanent marker.

get to know the anarchist black cross federation and other resources on safety culture: "Starting an anarchist black cross group: A guide"; Still We Rise - A resource pack for transgender and non-gender conforming people in prison; Safe OUTside the system by the Audre Lorde Project;

for safe abortion info or involvement: get familiar with womenhelpwomen.

stay radical, stay strong, stay informed: The Anarchist Library

if i forgot to (or didn't) include something, don't hesitate to reblog this post with other resources.

[doux-amer]

#there’s still time to kill myself over this#and. calling logan by his first name when you’ve known him since approximately 9 years old.#imagine the first time stewy decided to drop ‘mr.roy’#logan coming at a young adult stewy with ‘how was your summer stewart’#and stewy (has been psyching himself up for this all summer): it was great logan. how was yours?#and they just stare at each other like that one gif of pd*ddy and the american idol contestant (via @stewkablooey)

[dirtytransmasc]

I find it deeply depressing that every adult in Spider's life had children, yet he was never anyone's priority. every adult he could and most likely attempted to match in to. the adults he remembered as the closest things he had to parents since birth (Jake and Norm, even if they weren't acting as his parents, because Spider, genuinely, would not know better). down to his actual foster family (the McCoskers). essentially went out of their way to de-prioritize him.

like I'm not faulting them for having kids, for having a family. but Spider was their first priority. he didn't need to be adopted by any of them, per say, but he was their responsibility. he was their orphan, Jake especially, considering he was the chief of his people, but Norm as well, seeing as he's a prominent figure head of the clan/Hellsgate.

the McCoskers took him in, but over the years, as they had their own children, he was more and more neglected. he was now no longer his actually appointed guardians priority. and that only gets worse and worse as he ages until they become outright abusive (Nash does anyway, cause thats what I'm gonna call violently kidnapping his, throwing him in a room and locking him there, and trying to kill all of them, him included, when they run away. as abuse. and I'll get back to the whole "you have to turn yourself in to the RDA" x2 speech from Jake in a second). they also didn't really accept his culture. with their resentment towards the Na'vi brewing, Spider most definitely faced some heat for being more of the forest than of humans, in terms of culture.

3 times over, Spider came first and was put last. put last by parents who know damn well how much love, time, care, and attention a child needs. who should be able to see when a kid is being neglected. who dialed to advocate and protect him from neglect (instead of calling him a stray).

he was a child and they were his advocates. all three parties failed in their duty as advocates, to protect Spider. to ensure he always had a loving home that made him their priority. that fulfilled all his needs, not just the physical ones. but all put their own families first, and abandoned Spider to the scraps of their love, time, and affection.

imagine being Spider, an orphan who can't even mention his birth parents and is always treated like he is the physical rebirth of his father's sins by half the people around him. every adult in your life has kids and seems like they're such a good parent. you watch their kids being loved and tended to and having a steady home. they receive love and affection constantly. but your fosters pay less and less attention to you as they have babies. and now your a stray to the man you look up to so much. and the man who probably taught you how to put an exopack on has less and less time for you. no one has time for you. you're no one's child. no one's priority. just a stray. a nuisance. and you don't truly belong anywhere.

no one was putting him first. children need to be someone's priority. psychology. they need it.

and then the RDA returns. the McCoskers leave, Spider is expected to leave everything he has ever known, to join the very people he hates and has been trying so hard since he could understand what it meant, to prove that he wasn't like them. Jake, the man he once looked up to, was telling him to leave. sending him away. stripping him of the little amount of family he could somewhatly claim, that being his siblings.

once again, Jake is his chief, should be looking out for him. not even as a father, per say, but as his duty to Spider as his chief. a chief should never be sending away his most vulnerable ward, a child he should consider his own (as all of his clans children should be one with his own children), to the opposing enemy force.

this happens again when they're running away, Jake tells him ever more directly to hide in the forest alone until the RDA stops shooting at everything that moves and then turn himself in so he can his own children could run. once again, putting him last, instead of protecting all of them.

then for a year, Spider has no family. no one. the McCoskers are gone and no one has stepped up to bat for him. he's 15/16 and alone. his the big sibling to the Sully's. those kids are all he has, but they aren't really looking out for him. he's looking out for them. cause he's the oldest. that's just how it is. he is one with the clan. lives with them. does chores. watches out for his siblings, the whole nine. but Jake isn't doing his duty of watching out for his ward. he is once again giving and giving and giving, and not receiving.

and then he is taken, he is taken, and while Jake may not have had the means to go back for Spider, or been able to take the risk of going back for him, he abandons him without a thought for his safety, and puts his children first. it's the language and attitude be poses towards the situation that is wild to me. he has every right to be worried about his children, but he could not spare Spider an ounce of concern, even knowing the danger he was in, and is more concerned about him spilling details then anything else. Spider is, once again, not his first, second, or even third priority. he is a means to an end. a necessary loss.

people only care about Spider when there's nothing else they can put before him.

[sungiescheotluv]

champagne supernova ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 4.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, emo(ish) jisung, non-idol au.

summary: making friends as an adult is difficult. luckily for you, the rock/alternative online community welcomes you with open arms, one person in particular catching your interest.

notes: hi thereee! 😁 back again with another jisung fic, one that i actually came up with myself lmao. since getting back into the dreamies, i've been a bit surprised by (but absolutely loving) jisung's taste in music. hence this silly fic, which i do hope you enjoy! thank you so much for all your recent support, it makes my heart smile whenever you like or comment on a post! anyways, happy reading! much loveeeee! <3

The concept of internet safety is lost on you. How else could you explain sharing a hotel room with someone you’d never met before in real life? 

Perhaps, you should retrace your steps. See how you’ve managed to find yourself in such a dangerous position, the front door locked and your body pinned to the bed.

Making friends as an adult is difficult. On par with counting every grain of rice in a field, you’d say.

You underestimated how easy maintaining friendship was when younger, third places like school, daycares, extra-curricular activities demanding your presence, inadvertently strengthening your social life. Not that you were the most social, you had a hard time approaching people actually, but maybe that was a part of your charm. Bringing you out of your shell, like all your friends did before your bond was cemented in tree trunks or sandy beaches. University is the last place you take this ease for granted, exposed to all different kinds of people and relationships, some platonic and not-so much. Either way, despite the barge of assignments and countless nights out, you’d make it into adulthood relatively unscathed.

Adulthood, however, doesn’t turn out as you expect. You’d been sold a dream, one eight-year old you envisioned dabbling with the stars accompanied by a lavish life and all the ice-cream you could get your hands on. Unfortunately, no star would be rubbing shoulders with you anytime soon and any that would, you’d have to pay a large sum of money to even see. A large sum you did not have. So, yeah. Just that, toxic work culture, endless bills and a whole host of other obligations linger above your head like a grey cloud.

What helps is finding the small joys in life. Slow mornings when the city is asleep, the scent of coffee at the crack of dawn, the sunshine against your skin, friends who despite their busy schedules carve out time to see you. All pieces of your life that make it worth living. Music is in there too, the art of melodies and lyrics strung together having the strange ability to carry you throughout even your worst days.

Your moods refuse to stick to a certain genre and in the midst of dark afternoons and frost covered roads, you find yourself gravitating towards alternative music. Slow, steady and aching. Like how your life moves with the severe lack of sun. It’s not a genre your circle of friends dabble in as much as you do. It’s to be expected, anyone who deviates from a standard of ‘normalcy’ was outcasted, one too many examples found in your high school days where kids got called weird and satanic for wearing a Green Day t-shirt to school. The thought makes you laugh now, but back then, when all that matters is fitting in, it was sad and suffocating. Seeing a part of yourself denied before your very eyes. Sometimes you’d hang out with those kids, bond over your collection of CDs and even go to a few gigs together. However, when Monday came around and they’d approach you and your friends, raving about the concert - you froze. Confronted into either owning yourself and being outcasted like the rest of the emo kids or ignoring them, deny yourself for the sake of social standing. 

You pretend like they’ve grown two heads, feigned confusion knitting your eyebrows together while your friends laugh and hurl insults at someone who you considered a friend - a better one than the ones at your side. And yet, you let the laughter continue, a coward with its tail between its legs as you depart, the taste of iron on your tongue.

Maybe this is payback for those poor decisions. A dead-end job, a successful but shitting ex and enough inner turmoil to make a therapist clutch their pearls. 

You abandon those friends when you get to university, getting better ones that wouldn’t make someone feel small due to their own insecurities. You make amends with the emo kids, your apology marking the true end of your friendship. You search online spaces for like-minded people, showing up as yourself and being embraced as. Everyone in the Reddit community is unbelievably sweet, sharing their music recommendations, concert wishlists and pictures of their cats. Some members, including yourself, form a closer bond, taking your conversation to a Discord server that becomes your escape in a way. A channel for heartfelt discussion that extends past your love for music. You’re not as active due to work obligations, but whenever you pop up, one member in particular always greets you with a warmth like no other. 

Linkin.parkjisung is his user, his icon the rock and roll hand sign over his face. Likes Blur, Green Day, Oasis and of course, Linkin Park. He’s like you, dips in and out, types a few responses before he’s gone again. It’s a scenario where other members grow closer, and your anxiety around speaking in the group begins. They’re already close, it seems almost futile to interrupt, right? 

What if you’re ignored? What if you’ve missed your window of opportunity? 

It’s a line of thinking that crosses your mind when you send in an apology for being inactive, moments later your phone pinging with a notification.

Linkin.parkjisung: no need to apologize! life gets busy for everyone, myself included. hope you’re doing ok (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Other group members echo his message, sending in their own real-life obligations that the group ends up bonding over, complaining of rising car insurance and overly demanding bosses. 

It’s the start of it all, really. That one message, a hand extended to yours that breaks you out of your shell and kick starts your friendship with Jisung. From that day onwards, you move more freely throughout the server, making good friends with everyone but better friends with Jisung. Somewhere down the line, you end up privately messaging each other. What starts out as simply giving each other music recommendations (since he apparently always loves the songs/artists you send into the server) becomes sneaking into the bathroom during a busy family reunion to call Jisung about how your grandmother wore a catsuit to impress her ex, your grandfather. You grow that close, no details spared on life events. How else is there space for secrecy when you’re video calling drunk, watching festival performances of Fontaines D.C.?

In any case, you’re close. You text everyday and call every week like clockwork, namely because you live some hours away from each other. During your calls, he’s shrouded in a low darkness, self conscious of the way he looks, he says. You’re unconvinced, slivers of his features in photos he sends you with his roommates’ three cats or on call saying otherwise. Regardless, you let it slide because Jisung becomes more than his face - he becomes a source of comfort, someone who makes you laugh as much as brings you calm, someone you slowly can’t imagine your days without. In hindsight, this is where your romantic feelings develop. And with convenient timing too because one of the bands you recommended to Jisung, Wunderhorse are on tour, set to perform in a city two hours from the both of you.

“Tickets are going onsale at 10 am on Thursday,” Jisung murmurs, the clicks of his cursor coming through your laptop speaker. “Remember to set your alarm.”

“Will do. Lemme set a remin-” opening up your calendar, you see an unwelcome surprise. “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jisung’s voice echoes with sincere concern.

“I forgot I have a shift that day,” you groan, already knowing by the time your lunch break came, the event would be sold out. “We’re understaffed as is, so there’s no way I can get someone to cover for me.”

A deep hum vibrates from Jisung’s chest, a few more clicks of his cursor sounding before he asks in a small voice. “Well, I could just get the tickets for us both.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, I’m meant to be working from home that day anyways. And not to flex, but my internet’s pretty decent.”

You laugh. “Is that for your job or your crippling gaming addiction?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles back, the sound blooming a warmth of happiness in your chest. “Working in CompSci has its perks.”

“So, I’m finding out,” you smile, an underlying layer of discomfort shifting you against your desk chair. “Are you sure, though?”

“Of course. I’d hate if you lost out on this knowing I could’ve done something to help,” Jisung explains. “You were the one to introduce me to them anyways. Plus we’d have a better chance of sticking together in the pit if we get them together, right?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, something taking flight in your airy chest. “Yeah, you’re right. Just send me your bank details so I can transfer you the day of.”

“Coming right up!” he jokes, and you laugh, however lame he claims himself to be.

On Thursday, he sends you a photo of his solid black high-tech set-up, a PC he’s constructed himself with more monitors than you can count. The side of his face is included in the picture, silky black hair, a brown eye and a beauty mark on his cheekbone you dream of kissing later that night. You find out he secures the tickets on your lunch break, your debt towards him being booking the hotel you’d be staying at. Due to the limited funds you’re working with, you end up getting a shared room, an option that gives him pause before he agrees in a tremored voice. You’re a bit apprehensive yourself, but you booked for two beds, so it should be fine. If worst comes to worst, and something happens between you two – like him turning out to be a sexist neckbeard loser he couldn’t take no for an answer - you’d sleep in your car (or kick him out, actually). At any rate, you had options (and a friend tracking your live location).

In no time, weeks fly by and Wunderhorse drops their latest album. It’s the best thing you’ve experienced since sliced bread, an opinion Jisung shares as you two listen to it over call late one Friday night, speaking about your favourite songs amongst other things. You don’t know how it starts, perhaps it’s a lyric that sticks out to him that he mentions or something else entirely, but suddenly, you’re reminded of high school you. How deeply you wanted to be accepted by others, and how that satisfaction depended on the person you got it from. That you preferred conformity instead of individuality, because being seen with popular shallow kids meant something to you.

“I wasn’t a good person in high school,” you find yourself admitting, your body hollowed out with guilt. Regret like ash on your tongue. “I hurt people because I valued other people’s opinions over my own. I know I was young, but-”

“You said it yourself: you were young,” Jisung comments, the serious intent in his voice catching you off guard. “The fact you recognise your behaviour and feel remorse for it shows how much you’ve grown. I mean, high school can be very unforgiving because nobody really knows who they are or what the fuck they’re doing, so it’s only reasonably to make choices you may regret. What’s important, I think, is how you’ve chosen to move forward,”

“You said it yourself, you’ve apologised to those you hurt. Not many, if any person in your position, would do the same, which shows how much you genuinely care to make things right,” you sniff, vision blurring with tears of relief and sadness. “So, if you ask me, I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. It’s all a learning curve, you were doing what was best to protect yourself then. And now, you’re a better and kinder person because of it.”

Another time you should’ve known you’d fallen for him. Yet, you remain none the wiser. All the way until concert day, getting off work early that Friday afternoon and making the journey down to the bright city lights of Seoul. Everything twinkles and dazzles, a 180 from your modest living in your hometown. You suppose your excitement for the concert has some role in this too, but considering the lack of vibrancy in your life, you allow yourself to sink your teeth into this. Feel the goosebumps against your skin, the lightness in your limbs and the uptake in your heartbeat.

You check into the hotel first since Jisung has a last-minute team meeting at work, setting yourself up on your side of the cosy room of wooden and white hues. As you slip on your Hello Kitty headband to do skincare, a knock rasps against the door, audible above the sound of your music.

With furrowed eyebrows, you approach the door, revealing a sight that stops your heart in its tracks.

On the other side of the door is who you should’ve expected: Jisung. What you don’t expect, however, is his sharp features, black smooth hair with matching formal clothing to contrast so beautifully with his porcelain skin. The dark, ocean blue contacts he wears with a pretty pink lip tint. Not to mention that beauty mark you’ve been thirsting over for the past few months? Yeah, that’s all in eye-view now, close enough to touch and it’s this fact that sends your brain into overdrive.

While you malfunction, Jisung dips his head, a large fist curled to his lips to hide his sheepish smile. Chuckles in a bit of an awkward and embarrassed way. 

Oh my god?!

“Nice to finally meet you,” he greets, black leather overnight bag clutched to his side. A fluffy blue and pink keychain of Little Twin Stars hangs off the zip, a cute juxtaposition to his intimidating outfit. And height. God, he really wasn’t lying when he said he was nearly 6 ft. 

“I texted you I’d arrived, but you hadn’t read them,”

A forceful blink out of your trance brings you back to reality, one where you’re not openly drooling over how handsome your internet best friend is. “Yeah, sorry. I was busy getting ready.”

“I figured so,” his eyes scan your clothes - your ripped baggy jeans, leather platform shoes amongst what you have on - and his lips curve, admiration in his eyes. “You look great.”

If there weren’t societal ideals of an inappropriate reaction to that compliment, you would’ve tattooed it to your forehead, or on your lower back. Maybe ripped off your shirt and kissed him before combusting because what do you mean, this very handsome man, thinks you look great?!

“Thank you,” you blush, your body running hot like a furnace. Even so, you decide to take advantage of the situation, leaning in for an embrace that he reciprocates as you mumble into his shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you too.”

The rest of the afternoon blurs, the few moments of scattered glances and awkward silence incomparable with the ease of conversation that flows between you once his favourite song, Poppy, comes on. Catching up to speed with each other’s day as you two get ready, it’s not lost on you how domestic the scene is - how familiar, or right it feels. Jisung, in all aspects of the word, is endearing - flustered by the compliments you send his way, brightening up at the new additions to the setlist and best of you, timid with pink cheeks when he hands over a ‘first meeting’ gift - an assortment of snacks, a Hello Kitty plushie and a card that makes you coo. It takes everything in you not to sink your teeth into him, overwhelmed by the sweetness that laces his actions and words, riding the high he and the music gives you as you make your way to the venue after you’re both finished.

Long lines snake around the arena, grey clouds permeating the area as rainfall clatters to the pavement. Jisung, ever so prepared, brings along an umbrella that you share, squeezing underneath so much you feel the warmth of Jisung through his bare, very defined bicep. How someone looks so good in a silver sequin top under a tattered sleeveless black vest is beyond you. Then again, him being single is beyond your comprehension too. Considering his calm and thoughtful demeanour, coupled with his good looks, you would’ve expected people lining up by the thousands to plead their case. However, whenever you two talked about this, he’d simply say his go-to phrase and change the topic, his phrase being:

“I’ve got my eye on someone. Just working up the courage to ask them out.”

Whoever managed to catch his eye, you’d thought to be lucky. Maybe they’d saved a small village in their past life because as people push when the doors open, Jisung shields you from any damage, reminding you how good of a romantic partner he could be. Especially so when you’re inside and he snaps all your photos, accompanying you to the bar and merch table where you get matching t-shirts before he keeps them with him so you’re free throughout the concert. Dimmed red lights and chatter fill the spacious hall, a flood of warm bodies surrounding you as you peer at the stage, the band all set up and ready to go come showtime. You sing along to the host of songs the venue plays beforehand, enough nudges in the shoulder to get Jisung to sing along and of course - of course - he has a beautiful voice too. At this point, you were convinced he either had a missing toe or had weird opinions about the order of cereal because the more you spent time with him, the more he shines in your eyes.

Eventually, the chatter dies down and all lights go off, screams rising through the crowd as Wunderhorse comes onto the stage. Buzzing at a frequency unheard of, you bounce off the balls of your feet, hand holding Jisung as you exclaim, “It’s them! It’s really them!”

Missing how flushed Jisung becomes at the contact, you sing with all your heart - offkey and all - to their opening song, Midas. The energy is through the roof, a dizzying world of flashing lights and music that retches the lyrics straight out of you. In a moment’s chance, Jisung and you turn to each other mid-song, smiles bright as the stage lights outline your damp faces, chest heaving with a mouthful of lyrics in their wake. It’s the happiest you’ve been, holding his hand like this, and as the night winds to simmer, you sway to slow songs and thank your lucky stars for finding your way back to this.

After the show, you two chatter with other adoring fans before trekking to your nearby hotel, stomachs growling for food. Jisung finds a great Chinese place that delivers until 2 am, a gesture you simper at, unaware he’d even remembered you’d liked the cuisine. At this point, you’re drained in the best possible way, a dull ache in your feet but riding a high of something you’ll remember forever. 

Now, you’re all up to speed. Great. Let’s get back to your current dilemma.

Somehow, someway, your unlaced and stubborn platform shoes cause a stumble, one that Jisung tries to save you from but ends up caught in the mix. How, you might ask? Well, you’re not entirely sure but what you definitely know is that you’ve fallen on one of the beds, Jisung’s body caging yours as he braces his own fall. Face-to-face. With you.

Ok.

You’re close enough to share a breath, within reach to see his long lashes and shaky pupils that dart from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. Suddenly, the room temperature dials to an unprecedented heat, walls closing in on you two as you lie in waiting. Waiting for the other to make their move. To lean in or pull away, heads or tails on a coin.

His phone rings, cutting through the tension-filled air with a knife. The moment, gone. 

“You okay?” he rasps, a knit in his eyebrows as if he’s holding himself back. You blink wordlessly, your answer in an absent nod. “I’ll, uhm…get the food.”

It’s not a suggestion, nothing that you can object to, particularly when he’s long gone and you’re clutching at your chest, months of infatuation knocking the breath out of you.

When Jisung returns minutes later, you’ve turned the TV on, preparing to fill the silence if need be. It proves necessary, only groans of pleasure and compliments to the chef shared between you two as you eat your weight in noodles. Not much is said when you’re getting ready for bed either, brushing your teeth together as if you're a couple and settling into separate beds, all the lights turned off.

Still reeling for the fall, and convinced his shallow breaths allude to his slumber, you’re startled by the call of your name, head turning towards Jisung beside you.

“Yes?”

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks before clearing his throat. “That was…some fall.”

You can say that again.

“I’m ok,” you lie. You’re on high alert, frazzled at every end with a heart you’ve just realised longs for the man not even two metres away from you. “Are you?”

Silence. The only feedback you hear is the crinkle of his duvet as he shuffles in his bed.

“Ask me another question.”

You turn to him, shrouded in darkness. “Like what?”

He doesn’t speak again, lets the silence devour the space between you before he says. “Ask me about the person I’m interested in.”

Water that rivals the arctic pours down your back, a harsh call to reality as you remember. Right, he has someone he’s interested in. Someone who he’ll devout his time to, listen to their music recommendations and hold their hands at concerts. And you? Well, you’ll still be friends, just not as close. Maybe not even friends at all.

The thought closes an iron fist around your heart.

“Why haven’t you asked them out?” is what you manage, because it’s on your mind - what time and place he’ll find himself in when he confesses his feelings.

“Because I’m scared,” he admits, small and in a whisper. “Considering we met online, it’s kind of hard to gauge their interest or read any signs. You don’t give me much to work with,”

You still. “I don’t?’

“I mean, I haven’t been too obvious, but I’m crazy about you,” he confesses. “I love the light in your eyes and the kindness in your heart. You’re so deeply human and live life like it’s your first and last. There’s no one like you and I think the idea of knowing how special you are triggered my fear of rejection. Because what would my life be without watching festival performances drunk with you? What would it be if you didn’t laugh at my lame jokes and didn’t command my every thought?”

Jisung shuffles again, a flicker of dim light in between you two at a lamp source as he stares over at you, wholehearted and vulnerable. “It’d be an empty one - not worth living.”

Slowly, your body brings you upwards, the two of you hanging off the edges of your bed. So close if you’d reach out, your hands would touch. 

“When?” you croak, unable to meet his eyes. “When did you…start feeling this way?”

His eyes lower, a slight curve to the corner of his lips. “Around November?”

Electricity zaps your back straight. Five months ago? “When we joined the server?”

“Shortly after that,” he admits, a coy grin breaking out against his flushed features. “I was having a really hard day and you’d recommend a song in the chat, Favourite by Fontaines DC, and said how nostalgic and hopeful it felt to you. I gave it a listen and…it was like a battery in my back. I cried, but I also smiled too because I understood what you meant by it all,”

He threads his fingers together, peering up with shining eyes as he adds, “it felt like a peak into your soul, and mine too….I think that’s where it started.”

Your hand finally reaches out, overlaying his as tears fill your sight. “You know you’re my favourite, right?”

“No one stood a chance after that drunk video of you singing along to Champagne Supernova,” you share a laugh, reminiscing of the video he accidentally sent into the server one December night. A die-hard Oasis fan till the end. “I mean it. There’s no one I’d want to spend my days with, listen to music with and discover all there is to life. No one but you.”

His bottom lip gives a wobble, hands unearthing from yours as his thumb grazes your knuckles, bringing the hand up in a searing kiss. One he looks you right in the eyes for as he says, “Can we push the beds together please?”

You bark out an unexpected laugh, fondness shaping your smile as you speak with all of your heart. “I would love nothing more.”

[firewalkzwit]

chemical world || simon / john q. x reader (dinner in america)

just a blurb because im up the ass with school and the one-shot i wrote was rubbish sorry. "x reader" might be a stretch its just hqs and stuff i think of simon with song sneaks in the middle coz when do i not

Chemical World - Blur

Simon of extreme hedonistic beliefs above all prioritises nothing other than pleasure, and takes pride in the aesthetic disruption this signifies. Having a shower around won't be enough to pinch his personal hygiene urges, even if it is for the sake of others. He'll bathe if he can and if he wants to.

This obviously extends to his deliberately controversial haircut. It amuses him to watch the discomfort and confusion it creates in those who see him. It's neither a mullet nor a mohawk (matter of fact, he despises either of the groups who wear such hairstyles), but rather his own third thing.

Obviously he's slightly taken aback when you fancy him for it. Not that it has ever prevented him from getting laid (he would have eventually buzzed it if it did), but the occasional compliments and caresses on his greasy hair from your tender hands never fail to remind him that he too is just a mere mortal beneath things like female affection.

Saints - The Breeders

He praises womanhood just as much as he teases it. There is an adolescent air in the way he speaks derogatorily about your mother, or even when he gets turned on out of insulting you in bed. Still, slurs that come and go only wind up humiliating him when he kneels before you, eyes wide open and hungry.

He's very versatile in that department, he'll take any place in bed as long you ask. Nothing is more arousing than your gratitude. He won't be picky about how you express it, but he has favourites; the scratching of nails in a useless attempt of grabbing the wall makes him feel like he really did his job well.

I Am the Resurrection - The Stone Roses

Not having to be functional to work timings or tedious 9 to 5-s allows Simon to have an ample disposition to, what he calls, "fuck around" any day, anytime. Although he resents the fact that you occasionally choose your adult responsibilities above him, he'll hardly hold you to it for too long. Instead, decompression is highly recreational and experimental. A wide range of psychedelics, psychotropics, psycholeptics... all to be found in some dubious corner of his backpack.

Frankly, open-mindedness is one of the few must-have traits to date him. He wont tolerate uptight or rigorous personalities. This does not imply that it was ever a requirement for you to be an avid drug consumer, but he'll take no reprimands if he chooses to pop a Percocet.

Simon's open-mindedness policy is fairly restricted when it comes to music. Not that he only listens to one genre, as his enthusiasm for punk has inevitably derived in enjoying all of those that influenced or derivate from it, but he believes most are acquired tastes. Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., Melvins and Fugazi sit around in his record collection.

He loves it when you ask about his records, and far from judging you if you ever don't know, he'll sit down on the floor with his back rested against the bed and his records in hand. Encyclopedic narrations of the socio-cultural context of the origin of most of his favourite bands could be biography-worth if it weren't for all the "fuck"s between them.

"Fuckin' Christ, Pink Flag? That fuckin' invented post-punk. Would I care for that shit if it didn't? Probably not, but because of fuckin' Wire now I have to give a fuck about these snobby fucks from Bauhaus and the idiots in PiL."

Strange - Galaxie 500

The record player in your room is mostly crowded around by his own collection, which was homeless up until recently. There's many things Simon likes about you, but taking in his records was to him what to others is a ring on their finger.

In a relationship with someone who thinks music is sacred, you cannot miss his gigs, they are mass. He loves to parade you around backstage to his bandmates and sing to you when they play, loves that you take your friends with you; so they can see you seeing him. Nothing makes him feel more desired than spotting you in the crowd mouthing his lyrics.

Post-shows getting wrecked in a local bar until they kick you out is his favourite thing to do, but he'll take backseat sex if he sees you're in the mood for it, subtly letting everyone know as he guides you holding you by the wrist. On colder seasons, the night dew will curtain the windows of the pick-up truck he borrows just in hopes that you'll give him the special look, inviting him for a quickie before heading home letting you pick the radio station.

Just Like Honey - The Jesus and Mary Chain

[tealvenetianmask]

Is there stigma about mental illness in Hell?

Personal bit: I've had chronic depression and anxiety for my entire adult life, and I used to guard it as this big secret, but now I have friends and coworkers who are understanding and have their own issues. And I work in a helping profession where I see that dealing with this stuff is just really fucking common. But recently I've had a bit of culture shock hanging out with my family, and realizing that... oh wait, we still treat our mental health issues like deep dark secrets and refuse to talk about them and/or seek help. And that's the only acceptable way to act. Okay. Thanks guys.

Personal ramble aside, yes, mental health stigma is still an issue in America, 2024 (obviously). And thanks to Sinsmas, I'm convinced that it's an issue in Vivzie's Hell too, in a way that's pretty reflective of how real contemporary society treats it.

Stolas chooses not to tell Blitz about his happy pills. We find out as the episode progresses that he never told Via either.

And plenty of arguments could be made about Stolas just not wanting to burden the people he cares most for. Not wanting Via to worry about him. Not wanting Blitz to be put out financially by tracking down the pills. But I think there's a level of embarrassment here too, and here's why.

Stolas has spent his life being told to bottle up his emotions, and we have evidence of this. We've also seen him struggling to hide his emotions from Blitz before, turning his back in The Full Moon, and straining when forcing himself to stop crying in Apology Tour.

Is the cultural aversion to displays of emotion just an upper class thing in Hell? I think the answer is "sort of." There are ways in which a Goetia is expected to behave, and lower-class demons have more freedom.

BUT

It's not really that simple. We saw toxic masculinity coming from Millie's parents and from Crimson, and that kind of attitude sort of goes hand in hand with mental health stigma. We also saw Verosika say this-

Which shows a certain attitude toward seeking treatment . . .

And Blitz ALSO has a preoccupation with acting like he's fine and can handle things without help that seems very grounded in sort of a working class, "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" attitude. (Bye to all that by Ghostfuckers..)

This has all been a very long way of saying that yes, mental health stigma in Hell is significant and affects our characters.

So what role does discovering Stolas's pills play for Via?

She takes them as confirmation of her fear (one she already had a lot of evidence for, to be fair...) that Stolas stayed in a miserable marriage for 17 years just for her. And more- that she was "never enough" to make him happy.

And she's right but. She's oversimplifying it. She did make her dad happy. When someone's suffering, from abuse, from mental illness, from . . . literal society . . . one wonderful relationship is still not going to make their life a happy one.

Beyond Stolas's specific situation, people with great lives sometimes need happy pills. People's lives are multifaceted, and that's a lot for a young person to understand sometimes.

So if Octavia had grown up in a situation where people . . . idk, talked about mental health and didn't stigmatize emotions . . .?

Yeah, I think she'd react differently to the happy pills. But more importantly, the level of secrecy wouldn't be the same. Stolas would have been more open about his range of emotions and about needing pills, and in countless other ways this situation would have played out differently.

And now I'm tying myself in knots trying to imagine Goetia culture WITHOUT mental health stigma. I don't think it would exist in the same way at all. Quick, someone get an army of excellent mental health professionals and assign them to every single member of Hell's aristocracy.

[corkinavoid]

Hogwarts??? So you hate trans people then, if your supporting jk

First of all, it's 'you're', not 'your'. If you want to accuse someone of something, then at least do it in a grammatically correct way.

Second, that's a lot of conclusions for no apparent reason.

Third, don't like - don't look, the 'block' button exists for a reason, and I'm not here to provide a comfortable experience for you. You're the one responsible for that part.

With that out of the way, let me rant about how much I fucking despise J.K. Rowling.

Let me get this straight, though, her stance on trans rights is not the first or the main reason for my dislike. In all honesty, I don't have enough care in myself to touch internet drama with a ten foot pole, so all I know about it is that apparently Rowling hates trans people, which, yeah, fuck her.

By the way, what do you even consider 'supporting an author'? Buying their books or merch? Liking their Twitter posts? Defending them on social media? Because I've done literally none of that. I haven't even watched the movies, and I've never read the last book, because at the time it wasn't published (or written yet), and by the time it was, I was already into Eragon series and didn't care about Harry Potter.

Now, to the important part.

I fucking hate J.K. Rowling because of her absolute lack of comprehensive worldbuilding. She sucks at creating a logical system of magic, at her own world's history, economics, and politics. Nothing in her books makes sense.

Why do the wizards need wands? Why do they write with quills on parchment when there's paper and notebooks and goddamn ink pens and color pencils? Why don't they teach math in Hogwarts? Why don't the teachers have, like, some introductory lessons or at least books for muggleborn or muggle-raised students? What the fuck was that 'power of mother's love' bullshit? Where did that story about Peverell Brothers and Death come from, and why didn't anyone think to mention it when Harry first got the Invisibility Cloak? Why in the world is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in the girl's bathrooms of all places? Why is there a subject for Ancient Runes but no one fucking uses runes? Why didn't Harry sign up for Muggle Studies, it would have been an easy grade? Why was Hermione the only one to have a time-turner in the whole school, she was fucking thirteen, what was McGonagall thinking? Where are any kind of PE lessons? Why the everloving fuck was Triwizard Tournament held at a school, with teenagers participating? What's more, why couldn't they choose the champions beforehand so the visiting schools didn't have to transport their whole student bodies over for a year? Why were they fighting dragons when it's common knowledge that no sane adult person would dare to do that alone by themselves? What was that arch in the Ministry where Sirius died? What the fuck was even going on for the most part of the series?

None of it makes an ounce of sense. Every fucking event in the books is a product of poor imagination and lack of logic. Rowling is fucking dumb as a brick. I've heard five-year-olds come up with stories that had more reason than the whole Harry Potter series.

Have you seen the 'map of wizarding schools' she came up with? That thing makes me feel the rage of a thousand men. One single school for the whole damn Africa? Bitch, there are over fifty countries there, each with their own language, how do you expect them to communicate? Not to mention India and China having one school for both of them, do you have any idea of the population of both of those countries? That school must be, like, a size of a city, not to mention culture differences and language barriers again.

Also, what was that fucking thing about kids flying on whole ass trees instead of brooms in Koldovstvorets, that one offends me personally. Not to mention the actual name of that school, because it translates to 'magic palace', are you kidding me?

I can keep ranting about this for hours, and never run out, but this is getting rather long, so I'm going to wrap this part up. Just know that the whole of Rowling's worldbuilding is a ton of bullshit that has no right to be as popular as it got.

Yet, I do like the general idea that she had. The magic world that is hidden inside the real one, the whole charms and spells aesthetic, a castle full of secret passages, and all that old classic English vibe to it. It could have been good. It could have been marvelous, if Rowling had, like, a few more braincells. Alas, she didn't, and here we are.

A few years ago, I've found a fic on ao3, 'survival is a talent' by ShanaStoryteller. It's a Series Retold, and it's incomplete. If you haven't read it, I really advise you to, it's perfect in a way the original will never be. Ever since I've read it, I decided that that fic is my canon version of Harry Potter.

On a different note, I think that at this point, HP fandom and J.K. Rowling exist in two different dimensions. That woman had created a world, yes, but it doesn't belong to her anymore, it belongs to everyone who enjoys it. She clearly doesn't, she only enjoys the profit she is making from it.

If you've made it this far through my Harry Potter related rant, thank you, and have a beautiful day <3

[akindplace]

Every afternoon from my childhood to my teen years, my grandma would show up with peeled oranges, my favorite fruit, for me to eat. Every single one. She sometimes would ask me if I wanted it, and sometimes I’d say no, but she had already peeled them, and asking was a formality. I would always eat them anyway. I was a notorious picky eater, and if we know something about grandmas is that they are usually worried about kids not eating well enough, even if they are. It’s been over 10 years since she passed.

My mom seems to have picked up the habit, and even though I am an adult now, she still shows up with food, usually oranges, and she doesn’t always ask if I want them, and I still always want them, even if I can’t eat them immediately because I already ate. My boyfriend often tells an anecdote of my mom offering him food, and when he asked which food, she just answered playfully that he would find out what it was when he ate it (turns out it’s something that he loves and she knew he did before offering). When we watched heartstopper and Tao’s mom shows up at his room with a bowl of fruit, my boyfriend just said “hey, it’s just like your mom with the oranges”.

That kept me thinking about how food is ingrained into human culture as something we share as a sign of love for someone else. I see myself picking up those family habits. I show up with ice cream during a heatwave for my mom. I show up with food for my boyfriend. It is a way of showing up. A way to quietly tell someone “I remember this makes you happy”, and we keep doing it because seeing someone you love happy is one of life’s most satisfying things to see. This is a way of remembering my grandma, and all those who came before her and cared for their own kids this way, because love and sustenance are so often the same thing. I remember you, I say. And I am happy.

[nauticaltrain]

is the way you interpret the stex characters, are they robots or a mix? since they don't feel pain, but bleed oil etc. what is the lore? are they built at a young age or are they built into adults? (p.s your art is delicious too look at !!)

ohohoho boy, the lore i have for you, strap in

(brief note, this is all my personal interpretation and is definitely not the word of god lol. I genuinely love every interpretation and believe that headcanon variety is vital to a healthy fandom ecosystem)

So, this is something I have thought a lot about and still continue to think about. I'm pretty sure I've nailed it down but it might still be a little nebulous so bear with me.

In the most basic sense, my interpretation of Starlight Express, and all of its characters, is that they are real world pieces of rolling stock that have the ability to shift between a train form (primary configuration) and a human form (secondary configuration). Not an uncommon idea in this fanbase.

However, I'm an overthinking bitch, and I love going in-depth on things like this, so let's expand a little.

There are three main phrases that I use to define my interpretation (headcanon? au? lore?) and to keep myself on track when developing ideas. Sort of layers, if you will. They are as follows:

Fabricated manifestation of psyche - This is rolling stock's appearance in secondary configuration, or what we see in the musical. Their human bodies are a cosmetic representation of their will. A psychological trick. It reflects their personalities, their jobs, their mental age, the demographics of the region they serve. There about a million different factors that go into how they look, and like us, they can't control it. (well, except for CB, but he's another story) It's important to note that this is a manifestation. They are not Transformers. Secondary configuration is not 1:1. There are certain things that get muddled in the changeover. Wheel arrangements being different, missing certain parts, changed color palettes. You could open one up and see parts but not in any sort of similar arrangement to their blueprints. I mean, who can honestly picture every single part of their body in perfect detail and then reinterpret it into a new shape? (this is in part my answer to discrepancies between the real costumes and my lore shh shh)

Counterfeit reflection of humanity - This is their minds. They are our copies. They experience everything we do. They work, play, socialize, fight, fall in love. You could talk to a piece of rolling stock and have a fully human conversation. They are people. However, the longer your conversation goes on for, you may notice certain...oddities. Gaps in their knowledge, speaking in rhythmic sentences, constant repetitive movement. Someone copied humans and didn't do the most perfect job. Like looking at human culture through a lens. Many a train has pondered the simultaneous existence of being machine and being alive.

Physical incarnation of industrialism - Now this, is the origin of all of this. The humans did not create trains to be the way they are. Every piece of rolling stock is designed as they would be in the real world: vehicles to transport people and goods from one place to the next. No one designed Greaseball's slicked back hair or big, studded belt, they designed an EMD E7 built for pulling fast passenger trains. My point is, at the advent of industrialism as we know it, the trains manifested their secondary configurations themselves. They are the offspring of humanity, sired by ingenuity and innovation and birthed from the overturned earth of the Industrial Revolution. No one knows how or why, they just are.

So, in summary, they're sort of robots? Sort of a power of the mind situation? Sort of my own self-reflection on the nature of being alive?

Bonus facts!

Indeed, they do not feel pain. In fact, much of their sense of touch in general is limited. It ranges from same sensitivity as human flesh (hands, face, wheels) to just registers contact (shoulder boxes, hip plating, couplers). I have a diagram of the exact distribution somewhere lol

They bleed? Kind of? If parts are pulled off or damaged, they sort of…leak. Also, if their fleshy bits are "injured", the wounds only heal when the actual machinery is repaired. Also also, if you remove a human part (arm, leg, head, etc.) it will turn back into a train part!

Their temperature resistance is notable too. Comfortable is between -10 F to well over 500 F. Anything above or below that, and they start to complain. Wooden rolling stock have a harder time than steel ones.

They're afraid of deep water and tornados.

In addition to their nails being painted in relevant colors (which I believe is a semi-popular headcanon already), their mouths are the same. Some more unnatural colors include, black, yellow, and blue!

Tall! Generally between 12 and 17 feet. Loosely correlates to their height in primary configuration. Some are the same height, some are taller, some are shorter. Really depends on personality. I contemplated once to have their heights be the length of their primary configurations, but that would result in some pretty awkward height differences and they would be too big for their loading gauge.

They always manifest as adults, or at the very least, late teenagers. They kind of age? Sometimes? Momma started out a bit middle aged, but Rusty has spent like 50+ years looking 25. Really depends on the person, workload, environment, etc.

[heiznx]

PRINCESS ARRIVAL — III

∗༝*◦✦ missed texts.

BEFORE READING, this includes mentions of yuu's attachment to mc, brief mention of book 5 and 6 events, and slight yandere things.

|| ◀BACK || NEXT▶ || HEADCANONS ||

You can remember how you clung to the tiny hope that your team would win despite the incident with Vil and how it left a physical impact on all of you, but mentally for both you and Rook, who appeared to be in a better state than you.

Kalim said before that Neige and the seven dwarves’ music couldn’t get out of his mind, because the song was targeted for children to listen and adults to reminisce on; it had the arrangements of a children’s song in Shaftlands.

The glances you threw at Vil and how you followed him and—you sighed and sunk in your bed, your head splitting from the emotional ride you went through in just one day, but you had to process a lot of things today.

Royal Sword Academy won, Rook cried because he met Neige, and you remembered the way Neige spared him a minute or two of his time before quickly going to you, clinging on your arm as if he was a lost animal—or maybe one or two minutes is enough to talk with someone and you were just overthinking it.

“What’s wrong with Neige?” you can’t help but think.

When they won, you felt your dislike towards him coming back despite the competition being fair—not exactly fair since most of the people voted on their own schools because they want to support it and not because they think the dance or song was good.

Even though you wanted to cry at that loss, you held back because Epel and Kalim started crying themselves and you ended up laughing at them for it despite your own frustration.

Everyone was surprised at how Rook got quiet after meeting Neige, but turns out his tears were gathering in his eyes and he introduced himself as the #0000002 member of Neige’s fanclub; you weren’t exactly surprised as you remembered how he said ‘I wish I was you’ when you nearly got in a rumor of having a date with Neige.

Now about Neige, where do you even start?

It wasn’t obsessive, the way he’s all up on you, at least you think it wasn’t, it was just plain overbearing, especially when he texts you each time he has a break, tells you all the stories of his practice, chats you about meeting up without specifications where and when, and then clinging to you in real life.

Still, you felt like disliking him for something that you could most likely change by communicating with him was not justified, at least you should try to, you thought, perhaps tomorrow, since the cultural fair was two days.

You paused your thoughts when you gazed at the mirror and remembered that you promised the big-eared creature that you will find your friend to show if he can see Mickey in the photo you took of him earlier.

You scooched to the edge of the bed and went to look for Grim, not knowing how your stress levels and mental state will worsen with how you will see your friend, whom you are attached to, protecting a stone and will physically harm you in the process.

Neige looked at the paper bag by his table and sighed again, prompting the dwarves to pat his back again and trying to comfort him for forgetting to give you the gift he planned on; they were swarmed with reporters, his fame held him back in meeting you.

He sinks on the small table, listening to the words of the dwarves as they rub his back or try to point out the features they saw on you earlier at the cultural fair and some bringing up the trophy they received from the competition.

Not only did he fail to give you the paper bag, he also failed to bring it in the first place; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye because you retreated to Ramshackle dorm so early and the school was about to close. He really didn’t have a choice.

You were not even texting him right now; he always had to be the first to reach out.

Was it hopeless after all? To chase after you, because you always sabotage yourself by thinking if he was simply being nice to a person who helped him from falling back when someone pushed him. Did he accidentally return the favor when you called on him for help and he broke the rules for you?

He didn’t even see the cameras directed at him or people who caught the scene on video and posted it on socials, but he definitely saved it, moreover, he liked it; the only time he hesitated on actually liking it was when you seemed to be troubled over the fact.

When it got taken down permanently by your friend, he had never been so relieved that he had saved it prior, but even without that video, he surely still remembers the incident and the feeling of your hands as he held it and happily asks for your time.*

“There’s still tomorrow…” Shelpie whispers as his head leans on Neige’s shoulder, slowly dozing off and waking up repeatedly.

“We can visit Night Raven College tomorrow,” Dominic says, having forgotten to remind the human about the paper bag as well because of how nervous he felt since it was competition day today. “I’m sure [name] will be happy to receive it.”

“How would you know? You don’t know them like I do.”

Neige looked up and smiled; he had gotten accustomed to his thoughts by now. It’s a reflection of his feelings and innermost self, but he had grown to accept it already as a part of him—because those thoughts were because of concern.

Ironically enough, he himself doesn’t even know how you would react to the gift, but he visions your flustered expression upon receiving it and hoping—hoping that you’d hold his hand and openly express your gratitude.

Though it would be lovely if you were to give him more than he invisions.

“Yes, there’s still tomorrow!” the ever joyful dwarf says, smiling brightly. “We can help you look for her!”

“Or… or you can ask your other friend,” Timmy says.

“Ah, Vi…” the lovestrucked student murmured, his eyes looking wide and innocent as he looked at Timmy as if being enlightened by his suggestion. “I hate him.”

“Vil Schoenheit,” Dominic said in thought. “It would be nice to, especially with how he seemed close with [name]-san. I think he would be able to help you.”

“Help? Help,” his heart felt numb and empty as he smiled while looking at Dominic, because when did that model ever help Neige when it came to you? When the model visited the front of his dressing room, did that model actually go to give him the drink or flaunt the concern you had for him?

“I—ah—I think so too!” Snick chimes in but nearly sneezing in the process of talking so Dominic handed him a handkerchief.

Neige remembered the amount of glances you sent Vil’s way and it was less than the seconds of glances you gave him. The way your obvious concern for the model was there, and it’s suffocating to think that the model seemed to look at you fondly.

It was tolerable, the dwarves’ liking towards you, because they had no ulterior motive unlike the always-ranked-second model; the one you were with when he dozed off after meeting a certain fan who wanted to be looked at straight in the eyes.

“It would be good! I’ll give him a chat… or I can ask [name]-san myself!” the ebony haired student smiled brightly as he sat up properly, reaching for his phone and nearly knocking off the paper bag in the process. "Sending a letter to R might take too long…"

For hours from when Neige slept with a racing heart to when he woke up happily, expecting a reply after sending it during dinnertime and now he woke up to breakfast, because you usually reply in between; he knows you sleep later than he does.

There was no response from you.

Still, he hurried to dress up in a casual outfit since he didn’t need to wear a uniform because he currently wasn’t representing the school for anything—he was just there for you, and possibly needing the help of anyone he sees first for you.

It took him hours to sit down and perfect his appearance in front of a mirror, waking up Dominic and the other dwarves because of how the contour stick kept falling off due to how much he repeated the lines on his face.

All that time for preparation and leaving without the dwarves to go ‘early’ to meet you alone without them; all of that just to be met with a redhead that firmly told him that you were not feeling well to meet anyone or to be outside at all.

Riddle Rosehearts, familiar—no, Neige knew the name because this was another person that greeted you nicely at that one call, and a person that respected you, but doesn’t this dorm leader seem to be closer to you than he was?

Ace and Deuce were also walking by when they saw from the second floor that Riddle was talking to Neige; it was the spade that panicked and ran down because the dorm leader seemed to be losing his patience with Neige’s persistence.

It was just that Riddle didn’t want to disclose what happened to you. The you who was lamenting over the fact you won’t be able to see your companion for hours or days, and the you who had red-shot eyes and scars on the arm.

“Oh, it’s you!” Neige took his attention off the nearly fuming prefect to look at Deuce. “You were with [name]-san near the Beach!”

The beach that nearly had you get a bruise if it hadn’t for this blue haired student that was shouldering most of the hits from imbeciles that wanted a taste of the blastcycle.

“Sorry, cutting in,” Ace was the one to reply, causing Riddle to feel an ick that it was Ace who replied instead of Deuce, who was being talked to. “Are you looking for the prefect? [name]’s not doing well right now… they need a lot lot of rest, but if you need something to tell them, you can text them instead.”

“I’ve been doing just that, but for some reason…” Neige says, but he stopped before he could say that you stopped replying.

Why did this person recommend texting you as if you were capable of replying? He would never be able to understand it if you replied to everyone but him.

“Ah, you see, [name] is feeling unwell today,” Ace said, causing Riddle to shoot him a look, a warning for him not to reveal more than he knows. “They might be resting, it’d really help if you send them texts so they won’t miss anything you wanna tell them when they wake up.”

“Ah,” his eyes widened slightly. “[name]-san is sick.”

It’s the first assumption Neige has, of course, because what else does he know about your background other than knowing you as who you are right now and not your past? He accepts you anyways.

He thought that Heartslabyul’s dorm leader was quite silly for not starting with that as his mind goes to the thought of being able to see your flushed face and in need of someone to rely on, or to be able to take care of you.

His heart races at the thought of it as he keeps his bright smile on—that dimmed once Deuce said, “Yes, but… they’re not really accepting visitors. It makes them… dizzy, you know…?”

“It’s completely normal to feel nauseous when you’re ill,” Riddle said to save Deuce’s informal wording, and he felt his anger simmer down when Ace was able to tame Neige’s persistence. “If you have something to give the prefect, it’s best to leave it to Pomefiore’s housewarden.”

“Vi?” the ebony student asked as he felt his heart empty out again, keeping a smile though Ace winced involuntarily at the thought that Riddle quite messed up there. “Why Vi?”

“Oh, because Schoenheit…” Deuce started, only to quiet down because he cannot give proper reasons since he doesn’t know the situation well, only having a gist of it through Epel.

“Why? Why? Why him? Again?”

“Pomefiore is attempting to provide [name]-san the best healing they could,” Riddle explained, not truly lying when he said it, though in reality Pomefiore is only offering you skincare for your plump eyes and your scar. “And he is the closest—”

Ace was satisfied with the first structure of Riddle’s words until nearly adding that Vil was the closest to you so Deuce quickly gets ideas from Riddle’s words and cuts in, “—closest to Hunt, who is part of the science club so Schoenheit gets entrance there to make potions for [name]-san!”

Riddle would’ve scolded Deuce for that; Riddle was the one who can barely catch up to what Neige was feeling and was prioritizing getting through Neige’s mind that you cannot see anyone at the moment.

The ginger felt relieved by Deuce’s save that they both placed their palms by their mouths as if to breathe deeply; they can’t believe how they have to save Riddle from more questioning by Neige.

“I see… how thoughtful…” Neige murmurs as he looks downcasted, nearly causing Riddle to wince at how openly he showed it. “I’ll… text Vi…”

“Or… or we can hand it to him for you!” Deuce chimed.

It doesn’t satisfy Neige, but he didn’t feel like seeing Vil and remembering the times he witnessed you with him; he wanted to see you, that’s what he dressed up and came for in the cultural fair.

He clenched on the strap of the bag before he looked up and smiled, handing it to Deuce as he said, “Thank you! I’ll make sure to text [name]-san about it so they will be prepared to receive it!”

You put the phone down before you glanced at the paper bag, just because you mustered all the energy you had to feel energetic to respond to Neige doesn't mean the hole in your heart was fully healed.

The Shroud brothers had Grim, but even they won't tell you what happened with him even if you were close to the brothers in a way; Idia was closed off and Ortho was apologetic towards you.

You looked up at the group that was looking back at you before you sigh and say, "I feel better."

Kalim is happier to hear that and you smile a little; the entire group of the representatives of Night Raven College during the competition was there.

It took you a few minutes of talking by Rook before you mustered the courage to reply to Neige; he bribed you with money that he says could be for cat food in cans for your companion's return.

"It was a lot," Vil says as he looked back at the amount of fruits piling up on the table and how Jamil was currently in Ramshackle's kitchen and making juice.

"His sincerity is incredibly touching! He truly is kind," Rook says as you lean back on the couch.

You can't believe that Kalim was happy despite donating his money to Ramshackle, but you can't believe that even Jamil donates his own; you assumed he would have problems, but perhaps being Kalim's servant pays well.

There was still stinging in your eyes when you remember that Epel even donated his own and said it's for Grim's return; you can't help it, Grim was the first one to be there when you arrived in an unknown world.

"How many spoons are still in the freezer?" Vil asked after glancing at your puffed eyes that was the result of their kindness and you missing your companion.

"There's still six... seven..." Deuce counted.

— C R A S H !

"That..." you muttered before you looked up immediately.

The sound was nerving, and it came from outside. In that same day, you let your heart control your actions; it was the day you learned about 'Hepta Team' and when prefects had a meeting.

Rook was an enabler more than anything when he chose that he wanted to follow where the robots took certain people, people who overblotted, were taken to. Moreover, you learned more about why the Shroud brothers refused to return your companion.

And the next day, you were did not show up in the cafe to meet Neige.

THIS IS HEIZNX, each time i type, i would accidentally out * before any actions and after because i’ve been using character ai on my laptop and i got used to typing with asterisks. Its taking too long again im so sorry, even i am thinking ‘omg when am i gna put [insert important scene for next time that i dont wanna disclose rn]??’ mc's texts were 'replied' to but they werent showing when i previewed them while editing. i had to edit the replies so it would be a little understandable, i never had ihpone so i didnt htink that 'messages' (?) would remove them.

[akookminsupporter]

Hello, I'm not sure if you'll see this or not but I thought I would ask so I know everyone is excited about BTS year this year and is eager to anticipate their return, and I kind of wanted to talk about the infantilization of BTS prior to their MS and when they come out, so I do know at their core, BTS will still be the same loveable people, but my thoughts are running on who defines what infantilism is when it comes to the boys, for example: I was being accused of infantilizing Jimin and Jungkook because I found some of the things they do cute and adorable, I mean, they have cute moments right? (AYS for example) I still acknowledge they are grown adults and respect them as the adults they are, but now I'm questioning if these things that I'm finding cute really are babying them and I don't want to treat them like that/that way, so i wanted to know if you wouldn't mind sharing your thoughts on this?

Hi anon, how are you? Happy New Year!

Oh, this is an interesting question.

I think what’s happening in the case you’re describing is that the people saying that to you don’t really understand what “infantilisation” means.

Infantilisation happens when we treat or perceive someone as if they lack the maturity or ability to be a responsible adult, regardless of their actual actions. For example, if someone dismisses their ability to act, their opinions, or their choices by labelling them as "childish" or incapable, that’s infantilisation.

A fandom example is when people think they have the right to decide for X members whether they should stay with the agency, collaborate with certain artists, or interact with certain members. It happens when someone undermines a member’s decision-making ability, treating them like a child who doesn’t know what’s best for them. It’s not about finding them cute or endearing – it’s about treating them as though they can’t differentiate between right and wrong or make their own choices about what to say or do. That’s the kind of infantilisation many of us criticise in fandoms and, honestly, on the internet in general when it comes to fans of public figures.

In your case, what you’re describing sounds more like appreciation for their natural charm and personality rather than denial of their maturity. In Korean culture, there’s something called aegyo, which is basically acting cute – almost like a small child being adorable. It’s a big part of Korean entertainment, not just in K-pop, and BTS is known for doing it too. Sometimes it’s their personality shining through, and other times it’s part of their persona. You can usually tell the difference depending on the context.

So finding someone’s actions endearing without dismissing their adulthood is perfectly fine. For example, enjoying how Jimin and Jungkook interacted during AYS (or their playful dynamics in general) doesn’t mean you’re erasing their adulthood. They were often super cute during the show, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. That’s not infantilisation – that’s you finding their actions adorable or cute.

Before Jin and Hobi were discharged, I wondered if that side of them would change – if they’d stop being these cheekily adorable and sometimes mischievous people for their fans. But it hasn’t. From what we’ve seen, they’re the same as they were before, just with a year or two more life experience. That’s it. We don’t know if they’ve changed in private, but honestly, that’s none of our business.

Jungkook’s December Wlive was a perfect example of my point. He behaved just as he always has in his lives, especially over the past few years, and more than a few fans called him cute and silly or said they just wanted to squish him because he brings out those emotions in his fans. That doesn’t mean we think he’s a child – some people do, and that is infantilisation – but most of us simply find him endearing at times.

The misunderstanding of terms or labels also reminds me of how some people in the fandom label anyone who happens to see a member in public, take a picture, or mention it as a sasaeng. Or how some even describe certain fansites as sasaengs. A sasaeng is an obsessive fan who invades a celebrity’s personal life and privacy; in this case, is someone going to extreme lengths to follow or interact with idols. A fan spotting a member in public and taking a picture or just mentioning seeing them in X place isn’t being a sasaeng. This behaviour of misunderstanding terms or labels is not new.

I don’t know what’s going on lately, whether it’s newer fans or something else, but I’ve seen people on social media trying to police things that really don’t need policing or making others feel bad for things that are pretty standard in fandoms like this. For example – and I think this wasn’t specifically our fandom but a K-pop stan in general – someone tweeted criticising people who collect photocards. Like, why? Why should anyone feel bad or embarrassed about collecting photocards? Collecting is one of the most normal hobbies ever. Some people collect photocards, others collect toy cars, and some even collect women! (That last one should honestly be a crime, but that’s another conversation.) Why is it okay for men to collect photocards of sports players, sorry, I mean “sports cards” but not for people to collect photocards of artists? The double standards in society are wild.

Anon, I think it’s amazing that you’re so self-aware that you’re checking in with others to see if your behaviour might be problematic. That says a lot about the kind of person you are. In this case, I don’t think you have anything to worry about – but the people who told you that definitely do.

[yanderes-galore]

A romantic concept of Darth Maul (Star Wars) if you will?

Sure! I think he's a neat (and tragic) character within the universe he's in. Although at the same time... his motivations are rather simple.

Yandere! Darth Maul Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Biting, Marking, Forced relationship.

Maul, like Vader, is another apprentice manipulated by the Sith.

Except his manipulation came first.

From a young age he was fed the seeds of being a Sith due to his fighting prowess.

Nowadays all he really knows is hate.

There's just... so much to hate.

Especially after Kenobi sent him into exile.

Maul, despite having his mind put back together, probably never recovered from his thirteen years of isolation on a trash planet.

Maul is described as obsessive already in canon.

He's this way towards power, revenge, hatred, and rage.

He embodies so many negative emotions due to the Sith who manipulated him.

Using his training, Maul survived death through hate and became ruthless and manipulative.

He's not afraid to use fear to make others obey him.

Although... He is not devoid of care.

Maul is shown to care for his mother and brother(s).

So if he found interest in someone to be his partner, that care is shown even if he's mostly intimidating.

Although, his behavior isn't going to change much just because he cares about you.

Maul is the type of person to murder innocents to lure Jedi out to kill.

Naturally Maul will also want to isolate his obsession.

He feels you're all he needs and you're one of his obsessions.

I can see Maul breaking a Jedi in to corrupt them if he likes them romantically.

It would drive him insane at first as he's supposed to kill Jedi.

But the idea of breaking this specific one in, of corrupting them, making them his...

He'll let that slide.

Other alternatives include you not being Jedi or Sith, probably still Force Sensitive but you haven't chosen a path.

That or you're an adult Sith he found a way to manipulate into listening to him. (Like an apprentice or something after your own master was slain....)

Regardless, as expected of a Sith like him, people will die.

Maul has been shown he's capable of kidnapping if it aids him, and obviously murder is instinct.

That alone makes him terrifying.

But when he takes over Mandalore?

Even worse.

Maul does anything for power... and with that power he plans to make you obey him too.

Maul seems like he'd break you down just to build you back up.

He enjoys obedience, be that willingly or through fear.

The love of a Sith is twisted, especially with Maul.

While Vader has loved once and would seem more "caring" to the one he adores.

Maul has always known being a killing machine.

His love for you would be more rough, maybe primal in a way.

He's possessive, I can see Maul nibbling on his obsession's neck or shoulder to vent that.

Maul doesn't plan to attack you or hurt you physically (much).

It's those around you who are in the most trouble.

Normally, in Maul's culture, the female chooses the male.

However, it's obvious he's playing the rules differently here (especially if you aren't even female or a different race)

You can't choose any other partner if they're dead, right?

Even then I imagine Maul still tries courting you, it's just you... don't have much of a choice but to accept him?

You can barely even speak to others without hearing that signature noise of a saber being activated.

You and his family are what he cares for other than revenge and power.

Although, in Maul's life, he loses his family eventually.

When left with nothing else, Maul becomes even more suffocating.

He hides you away, and as much as he'd rather not, restrains you.

You're the only person he has now, the only one he needs.

To him, you should feel the same way.

He's your partner, your mate, you'll need him as much as he needs you if he isolates you

Maul is a yandere who would force you to need him.

He'll force you to be addicted to him, to give into desire and have him as yours.

Why fight him when he can give you all you want?

He can read you, he can give everything...

Just give in to him...

You're his to corrupt, his to have, his love... and ultimately, his to own.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

UWU stop interacting with antis. If you’re anti-censorship then act like it, you can’t stop people from having opinions <3 coming from someone who isn’t pro or anti ship because I’m not a 15 year old porn addicted gooner

This is a discourse blog. A discourse blog that speaks quite a bit about sexual topics. If a 15 year old was running this blog, I would have concerns, in all honesty, because they really shouldn't be interacting as publicly and openly with NSFW content.

However, your comment alone helps to display why, while I'm perfectly fine running my discourse blog as a discourse blog, this may not be the place for you. So let's break this down:

• No adult with any desire to be taken seriously by anyone uses the term 'gooner' unironically. That being said, you give off the red flags of being a younger teen, and interacting directly with NSFW content easily breaches the boundaries of adults.

• If a 15yo was regularly interacting with porn to the point that this is easily known, their parents can be held liable in multiple states. You could try reporting me to the police for being a 'porn-addicted minor'. Unfortunately, you will come off as a laughingstock, because I'm not a minor and I also just...don't watch porn. Unlike you, presumably, I am in a lovely relationship with a significant other who can handle those desires.

•The APA and DSM-5 do NOT classify porn addictions as real, and therefore, they aren't a thing. Multiple studies, as well, have disproven the existence of the 'porn addiction'. This idea can be traced back to - wait for it - Christian Puritanical anti-sex culture. Now, as much as church needs to be better separated out of everything, the Christian God does not run my life nor most countries, and so his religious anti-sex ideals are irrelevant.

• I'm guessing you just, don't read (shocker), but if you check out that beautiful intro paragraph that is pinned on this blog, you'll notice that I welcome opinions shared in a civil way, even if they oppose my own, and am in fact quite stern on the idea that you shouldn't lock yourself in an echo chamber. Hearing contrasting opinions can help strengthen or even change your core beliefs. But that whole idea leans on the idea that neither side is pissing their pants over discovering that their ideals don't extend to everyone, which is what you appear to be doing here. I am welcome to conversations on why you think what I'm doing is stupid, but I'm not going to bother with you unless you put on your big boy pants and be a mature person.

• You aren't 'neither', you're an anti. You scream it throughout your whole message. So if this account bothers you, why don't you do yourself a service and block it instead of being annoying in my DMs?

• This point is just here to see if you have the capacity to actually read things, since you obviously know nothing about this account despite the big ole pinned post. Go have some tea, get in a better mood, and then feel free to come back for a more progressive, civil conversation. It'd be good for you.

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[dunmeshistash]

Semi-related to Thistle talk but it's interesting to compare him with Yaad's generation, because they too are stuck in a perpetual adolescence while still having to carry out adult responsibilities. Given Yaad's entire arc and the apparent ease at which the citizens have worked for centuries on end, one very optimistic take might interpret this as them developing more maturity than Thistle… But then it's pointed out that they're doing all of this because routine is the only thing keeping them sane anymore, and even then they still struggle to find meaning and joy in things other people take for granted, like food. So to other people what looks like maturity is actually repression or apathy for the sake of survival.

And while their situation is definitely not the same as Thistle being taken away from his culture and raised entirely by tallmen, the Golden Country citizens are also disconnected from where they came from and what they "should" be - the previous generations that had a frame of reference for the outside world and a normal lifespan are now gone. That's how we end up with scenes like Chilchuck being unnerved by the brewer that looks like a teen but casually mentions running their own business for 600+ years. They and Thistle all have that dissonance of looking young but having taken on too many duties, much too early, for much too long.

I hadn't thought much about how young the golden kingdom people are I just assumed they were adults but they DO look younger than what we would consider adults.

I theorized on another post that they might all be 16 (but I also say I think they're older there, now I'm not so sure) because that's the age of maturity for Tallmen.

Age of maturity usually means that's when you're considered an "adult" socially (as in now you have adult responsibilities and is expected to carry your own) that's why I think Thistle hasn't reached that yet, its what would thematically fit him the most as a kid with adult responsibilities (wouldn't make sense if he was already the age that's expected to take on these responsibilities)

The golden kingdom citizens don't really feel like they have a stunted growth like thistle to me.... I don't know how to explain how I feel but... it's like they have stunted experiences instead? They don't know what really is like to be alive, they are just going about their lives in a clockwork manner trying not to think about it and missing out on how it feels to live (exemplified by how they don't eat).

What made me feel like that the most is that when Yaad is in Delgal's body it doesn't feel like a teen trapped in an old man's body, it feels like an old man with finally a body that matches? To me the golden kingdom citizens feel more like someone forever trapped in a body much younger than their minds?

That's just my interpretation tho! I like your interpretation too, it's making me think about it more, so I might end up changing my mind. Some of them really do act like kids/teens like the girls asking Marcille to do a fashion show for them, that was very cute, they probably haven't gotten to play in a while.

[avelera]

haha, whoops, i'm one of the people who're guilty of kinda enjoying the nickname thing (i don't write though), but it's a good point that it contradicts how they express themselves in canon

idk what country you're from, maybe this is not new info, but to maybe add further context:

i get an impression that in english getting called by a nickname/shortened version of your name is a very usual, casual thing, like if you introduce yourself as daniel you may get called dan by people immediately, unprompted, even in a [semi] professional setting? meanwhile i just don't like my name very much and want people to call me by the shortened version. just without the last syllable, nothing elaborate. and i do feel pretty weird introducing myself that way or explaining if asked, it feels like i'm asking people to show friendliness/closeness by asking that. also if they do know my legal name (at work for example) they end up defaulting to it often anyway. i think i could get away with it though if i had a more friendly and bubbly demeanor

basically i'm wondering if this is a thing because for some people it has more of a baked-in meaning of closeness, or at least overt friendliness, than it usually has in english. (though again i agree that this is not a thing in their canon dynamic)

Hmm, so my answer to this is multifaceted so bear with me for a second.

Just to keep it on Viktor and Jayce for a second, I'm a whacky stickler for writing characters as they are in canon. Many fanfics aren't even trying to be canon-adjacent though so while them using nicknames in a fic takes me out of the story, it's not necessarily right or wrong, it's just how the writer chose to write their story.

I was mostly making the point against them using nicknames from the point of view of, "If you're trying to write them in-character, why would you use nicknames? They never use nicknames." Which is also why I opened it up for the possibility that they do use nicknames in League of Legends, which turned out to be true and explains a lot of why that trickled into Arcane fic. I'm just an Arcane-only person so it raises my hackles a bit when I see those two blended but I get why people do it and would probably do the same if I knew League. (Jayce is just so different from his LoL counterpart it's hard for me to get on board with and it's why I didn't really engage with the fandom when only S1 was out even though on my own I watched Arcane like 100 times straight).

Ok as for the cultural stuff, obviously I can't speak for the entire Anglosphere but I can offer my perspective.

Yes, having a nickname is common and commonly used as a sign of affection. For example, my name is Maggie which is short for Margaret. I'd be put off if someone used my full name, but it has three syllables which is also a longer name than Viktor which is just two syllables I don't really get why it needs to be shortened further, but that's just me, the owner of a two-syllable name.

Unlike some other languages like, say, Japanese though US English does not have as rigid a hierarchy of which names to use to denote familiarity, at least not between adults (as a child, I was always taught to use Mr./Ms. "Last Name" with adults). You'd use last names upon introduction, sure, but switching to first names quickly is hardly unheard of, or even nicknames. I know some other languages like Russian, for example, also have a complex system for how and when to use diminutives and they specifically denote levels of closeness and familiarity (or at least, so my small brush with Russian literature taught me).

Now where I'd add the Jayvik nuance is that regardless of what someone's name is, long, short, nickname, or last name, you always use the name people ask you to use.

So if I had a colleague named William who wants to go by William and doesn't want to be called Will, it would be impolite for me to use a nickname if he didn't want it, even if it's easier for me to say. The most common polite thing to do with strangers or in a formal setting is use Mr./Ms. Last Name until that person gives you permission to use their first name, which is usually given pretty quickly unless the person is a bit of a jerk lol.

So yeah, to your last point, I think it's possible (I don't want to presume) that people having Jayce give Viktor a nickname when he doesn't in the show are either:

1) Basing it off League or general fanon or

2) Choosing to show closeness between them using nicknames as a love language that contradicts what the show portrays, which again, is an artistic choice that's completely valid, even if it's not for me. And I do think that yes, that's because I believe a greater mark of affection, for me, is using the name someone requests of you rather than using a diminutive or nickname that they didn't ask for.

I hope this sort of answers your ask and isn't just me rambling, lol!