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This is the last thing Iāll say about it, but this applies to soooo many other things I see on here:
PSA, if you are called in/out, if you unintentionally hurt someone, if someone expresses they were hurt and that wasnāt your intention, if your words are interpreted in a way you did not intendā¦. you can literally just apologize.
A grand majority of the time, a simple apology and acknowledgement is enough! You can say you didnāt mean it and try to explain again, but you need to recognize and own that your words hurt someone.
Doubling down may feel instinctual. It hurts you to be told you did something wrongāand thatās okay, that is a hurt all humans know. To grow as a person you have to resist the urge to retreat from that pain. Own up to it, learn from it, and we all carry on feeling better.
I actually don't know the original situation this post is referring to, but since it's on my dash I'll just add:
Getting called out/in is an honor. It means someone trusted you. It means they thought that if they brought your behavior to your attention, you would be a smart and kind human and change your behavior.
If someone says something awful and I know there's no changing them, I roll my eyes and keep walking. If someone didn't roll their eyes and keep walking, and instead offered you their soft underbelly to risk saying, "Actually that's kind of fucked up," because they thought you'd value the information and adjust accordingly, you have been honored.
I was a pretty defensive kid for way too long, and this way of looking at it helped me. Thought I'd throw it out there in case it helps you.
aint it crazy how everyone is famous nowadays and yet I dont know who anyone is. there are countless people that will have more followers on instagram than the population of Sacramento and no one I know irl has ever heard of them
We will literally never progress past biphobia until people realize that bisexuals in het relationships are still having a queer experience by virtue of being bisexual, we do not magically oscillate between gay enough and too straight. Iām going to maul someone to death.
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thereās this term i coined in my friendgroup i call āthe charizard effectā and it can apply to anything and everything, but it was born from me explaining my feelings about the pokemon charizard. the term is basically about how overexposure to something be it by corporate shilling or fandom prominence drives me away from really enjoying something bc iām exposed to it so much against my will i become tired of it. it came to me bc i was ranting about how tpci does not, and cannot stop reinventing charizard, and how it is popular and obtusely included in almost every region, merch, etc in every way possible and itās highly commodified.
i dont dislike the pokemon charizard, in fact i really like its X form, but i am exposed to so much charizard in my pokemon consumption that i cant be bothered to care for it in any more than in passing. this applies to a bunch of other stuff iād otherwise be ok with, but i always just call this aversion phenomena āthe charizard effectā
making this term has done numbers for me being able to concisely express how i feel abt something. like. its not charizardās fault i feel this way, im sure iād feel normal abt it if it was stripped of all this over commodification, but i cannot. hence the name
"you don't know what you have until you lose it" works for things that suck too btw. sometimes you need to experience life without something for a while to realise oh damn that was some bullshit
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His captors are fools, Elidibus thinks. At the pace blood is oozing from this body, itāll bleed out long before they know the right questions to ask. Thereās dozens of cuts across his flesh, done more for show, for satisfaction, then for effectiveness. Even now, the hyur grins as he looms over him, bronze knife sliding through his shoulderās skin with the devotion of an artist at their easel.Ā
Ah. How far mankind has fallen.Ā
Elidibus doesnāt relish in pain the way some of his reunited brethren do. Itās a departure from the monotony of bodiless existence, yes, but he canāt help but feel the way it runs rampant in minds of the sundered sparks around him. How it dulls them, drags them down and smothers their too-delicate souls with mud and filth.
āKill me already.ā He hisses through gritted, bloodied teeth. Looks up at the hyur with what hollow hatred he can dredge up from the bodyās lingering memories, inciting him to lash out, to cause more injuries, that it may be all the more believable when he finally cracks and spills the resistanceās secrets.
The blade slows along its course. The hyur looks up at his face, calmly. And then brings his hand up in what he clearly thinks is a swift movement, backside of a gloved hand striking hard against a bare, unmasked cheek. His head cracks to the side, and heās left staring at the floor as shock rolls through the bodyās nerves.Ā
Later, far later, he finds himself staring blankly at the stone wall across the room. Itās blurry, but he doesnāt force aether into the muscles around the bodyās eyes. It would be too tempting to heal the weeping cuts surrounding them as well, andā¦ the appearance is needed. The whole process is necessary, for the information to withstand questioning from the peace-seeking faction, and to then be acted on. The information, that will goad this brutal Empire into taking action, destroying the rebels before their new weapon could be deployed. The weapon, of course, having been so carefully shaped and primed by Ascian hands, and yet had grown too swiftly to keep pace with the efforts upon the Source....Ā
A low groan vibrates along the bodyās vocal cords, as he urges the blood to keep moving through its veins. Not yet. It cannot die yet. He will not allow it.Ā
This would be so much easier, Elidibus thinks as he hangs there in taut chains, if they would send the interrogator back in already. Not only are they incompetent, but at this point, they are simply wasting his time.Ā For Zodiark's sake, he could be leading on the idealistic heroes already.
Too-pale, bloodless lips tighten in an empty smile. How rude. Perhaps he should simply possess the incompetent interrogator himself.Ā
Itās at least a full day later that he's still hanging chained, forgotten. Truly insulting. He'd been planning on letting some information slip, if only that vexing interrogator will attend his job. Should he take his body, after all?
The clatter and commotion outside takes a while to filter through a tired brain, the soul within curled up in near-slumber, as to not be besieged by ever-present pain signals. Indeed, it's not until someone is kicking down the cell's door, that he stirs.
"Whā¦." The parched throat catches on the words, weak coughs sending shudders through him.
"Hey. We're busting you out. Iā¦ Oh, that's a lot of blood. Gods. Justā¦ hold on, okay?"
What? No. This was not supposed to happen. How were the rebels here? Elidibus blinks, and somehow the rebel is in front of him. There's a reverberating crash, and then he's sagging, weight entirely supported by the other wrist. Unwillingly, a gutteral moan comes from the body's throat.
"Shite, sorry, sorry-"
He'sā¦ He's falling against something warm. It's so warm. For a moment, he's distracted by it, down to his very soul. The body doesn't know what to do with the sudden warmth, after days and days and days of cold, dark stone, andā¦ There's something about the aether. How is their very aether warm? It feels like a sunbeam parting clouds, shining so softly upon him.
Suddenly, Elidibus's core hurts, longing for something he can't name panging through him. A time long gone, and people gone along with it. Peopleā¦
The warm person scoops him up, holding him to their chest. And despite everything, despite the ruined plans, despite the evidently inaccurate intelligenceā¦ Elidibus lets them. Lets them carry him through stone halls, blood splatters all around. Lets them carry him through a massive, besieged gate, and-
Oh. That's the sun on him. It's so bright. It's too bright.
Deep in himself, Elidibus wants. Wants this soul to hold him close, to carry him off to somewhere warm, soft, and safe. Wants to give in, and hold them tight-
It's with a great effort that he pulls himself back, thinks of the situation, his goal here- and lets himself fall loosely from the body, as without him, its last breath stalls upon its lips. He does not look back to watch the warm, doomed mortal cry out in sorry.
Elidibus staggers back to the Source's moon, Zodiark immense and incomplete in front of him, and lets himself weep for something he does not know.
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the most essential part of a fandom are those people who immediately tell you to write it, draw it, make it when you share your ideas, you have no idea how many fanworks are born just because someone encouraged it
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