the word empathy is WIDELY misused, even in mental health spaces.
empathy:
is responding to a person’s emotions by experiencing the same emotion as them (i.e. feeling sad when something sad happens to that person, or happy when something happy happens to that person.)
is an automatic response that cannot be controlled
cannot be learned
sympathy:
is recognizing that another person is in pain, even if you do not experience that pain, and offering comfort to that person
is something a person must actively choose to do
can be learned
compassion:
is showcasing care and support via words and actions
is something a person must actively choose to do
can be learned
if you need an example of a person with no empathy who practices sympathy and compassion, look no further than data from star trek: the next generation. he doesn’t have emotions at all, but he’s still kind to people and wants to help them.
stop telling people that they’re evil because they don’t experience empathy. stop equating empathy with morality. stop equating empathy with caring. stop saying that cruel people “lack empathy.” stop throwing neurodivergent and mentally ill people under the bus.
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i actually never ever want AO3 to be censored bc nothing is more fun than reading the tags on a fic and going “huh. didn’t know there was a market for that.”
It's part of a package called the KIDS Act, filled with digital ID and age verification and censorship!
MAKE THOSE PHONES RING!! CALL YOUR HOUSE REPRESENTATIVES ALL WEEK
202-224-3121
i HIGHLY encourage everyone to read the bills in the KIDS Act, because you will be doing more than 95% of people who read and introduce these bills
And yet how many people consider that little pixel dinosaur to be a beloved part of their internet experience? The world would be poorer without it!
Like yeah I get the frustration of seeing something epic in your head and not being able to make it come out the same on paper. But the greatest gift you can give yourself as an artist is to “yes, and” your art.
The line you just wrote doesn’t sound as dramatic as it did in your head, in fact it makes your character sound sarcastic…. Well, what if the character WAS being sarcastic in that moment? Could that potentially bring something unexpected but fun into the story? Some new angle of character development you hadn’t considered? Maybe, maybe not. But once you start training yourself to give a fair chance to the possibility of being inspired by the ways the work is coming out differently than in your brain, rather than seeing that as a failure, then you open up a whole new world for yourself.
And no idea is ever lost. The epic realistic dinosaur in your brain that came out as pixel art, and then you rolled with it and made a whole bunch of related pixel art… well, the idea of the realistic dino didn’t come to fruition, but it’s not dead and gone. Either you will come back to it later once your art has evolved, or the idea will get mulched and mixed back into the creative currents of your brain, only to resurface in thousands of different ways in many other projects in the future. That’s great too!
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The door closes behind Celine and Zoey takes a deep breath, mentally congratulating herself for holding herself together while finally meeting one of her longtime idols. She’d really wanted to make a good first impression.
Which probably makes it a good thing that Celine has left, for as soon as Zoey is left alone with Rumi — and wow, this girl is beautiful even in grayscale, looks like she just stepped off the cover of a magazine — Zoey bows politely just as Rumi sticks her hand out toward her.
Zoey nearly tips herself off balance with how quickly she jerks herself upright, but by the time she’s reaching for Rumi’s hand, the other girl has bowed instead. For a moment, Zoey is left staring at the top of her head, at the way her braid hangs off her shoulder like it was arranged purposefully.
And then Rumi straightens, eyes looking as wide as Zoey’s feel. A pause. A breath. And then the corner of her mouth tilts upward, her eyes crinkle, and she puts her hand on her stomach as she laughs.
Zoey knows the sound of people laughing at her; that’s not what this is, and the sound tosses aside all her nerves until she finds herself giggling along with the other girl.
“Sorry, sorry!” Rumi apologizes, laughter still escaping her despite her obvious attempts to swallow it back. “Start over?”
“Why?” Zoey asks. “I think that was the best intro we could’ve had.”
“I’d like to, though,” Rumi says, her voice sounding almost… wistful. “Can we?” She holds out her hand again, and okay, okay, refusing and crushing Rumi’s hopeful little smile would make Zoey feel like a monster.
So she takes Rumi’s hand in hers, and gasps as color blooms between them. Starts at their hands, Rumi’s skin paler than her own, and rolls outward, over the black sleeve of Rumi’s jacket, up to her warm brown eyes and then her—
“Your hair’s purple!” Zoey delights, before noting the way that Rumi’s eyes have squinted.
“And your shirt is… very bright,” her soulmate responds, and Zoey looks down and laughs again because yeah, apparently her favorite shirt from a local conservation group is a striking neon green. And then she remembers what Celine had said, just before she left the room. “We have the whole day now? To get to know each other?”
(Later on in the week, Zoey will remember that again and wonder at it. Almost like Celine knew what would happen as soon as they touched.)
At Rumi’s nod, Zoey tugs her eagerly toward the door. “Can we go to the zoo? Or the aquarium? Walk, talk, eat ice cream, see all the animals in color for the first time?”
“Do we have time for both?” Rumi asks, her head tilted to the side, matching that crooked smile that Zoey already melts at. All the anxiety of this meeting — her? They wanted Zoey? For a K-pop group? Really???? — dissolves like mist in the morning sun.
“If we hurry,” she says, picking up the pace and half-dragging Rumi with her until the other girl laughs and half jogs to keep up with her. “No waffling over ice cream flavors, no dawdling at the baby animals, only thirty minutes at the turtle exhibit!”
They pull on their shoes, call out to Celine their plans, and step out into the world, bright and beautiful and full of color.
sigh I'm in such a fluffy mood. thinking about how much cassie loves to hear victoria talk about her day.
victoria who's so expressive, and maybe some events are recounted with a little embellishment— but her girl's a good storyteller, so cassie lets it slide. sometimes vic gets all quiet when talking about a difficult patient, switching to wide-eyed and giggly when she shares a bit of ptmc gossip, to grimacing and rubbing the back of her neck when remembering her awkward moments.
cassie loves it all. sitting back against the couch, looking over at victoria with a warm, fond gaze. victoria's legs in her lap, cassie gently rubbing at her calves. it's... really nice. really nice. some of the most true domesticity cassie's ever really felt. she thinks that's probably true for victoria, too.
she especially loves when victoria catches her eyes, realizing just how cassie's looking at her, getting all flushed and stuttery after that. you're so cute, cassie says, and victoria hides her face in her hands— not exactly helping her cuteness level. you're just saying that, victoria mumbles, trying to suppress little giggles behind her hands. cassie gasps, mock offense. me? never.
victoria peeks out between her fingers, eyes sparkling. I like you. cassie grins, tilts her head. I like you too, baby. I like you a whoole lot. <3
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