#like I want them to Exist for me and for other people

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

[salemlunaa]

𓇼 ˚∘ Unlocking the Power of Manifestation: Shifting Realities Explained ·˚𓆉 ༘₊·

It seems some of you still don’t get it.

I get so many asks and dms worrying about the same thing so i will address it now:

“when i go to the void, will i still see my family and friends?”

“will everything be the same if i go to the void? like if i downy want certain things to change will they stay the same?”

“i like manifestation because shifting is too much for me”

“i only do normal manifestations because i don’t want to leave my family if i induce the void and shift”

well let me tell you something, there is no difference between the two

manifesting = shifting, it’s the same thing i don’t care if you are manifesting the sun to come out today with affirmations or you induce the void and manifest a whole new life. It’s still shifting, and it takes the same effort. I think the art of shifting has been put on a pedestal, but it’s nothing.

Let’s say Lumera wants to manifest money she does this through affirmation, she will shift to a reality where she has money, everything else stays the same, the only difference in this reality is that she has more money. Shifting isn’t some extravagant thing, it’s just natural, it’s first nature so it will feel normal and natural.

Manifesting is shifting because you just shift to a reality where your manifestations are in the 3D. There are many different realities where you don’t have what you want, but you’re not aware of that reality, your consciousness isn’t there. EVERYTHING IS A SHIFT, whether you pick that red skirt over the blue skirt in the clothing store, you’ve shifted to the reality that you now own a red skirt, yet everything is the same, and a reality where you picked the blue skirt exists but you just aren’t aware of that reality.

There is no original reality, feeling so bound to this one and so comfortable and natural in this unfavourable reality is why you aren’t getting what you want.

“It's like changing a shirt. When you put on a new shirt, you "jump" into a reality where you are wearing that new shirt. It's not what you think it is. There are infinite realities (infinite)

They (realities) are all as real as each other. You're just aware of this specific one. Doesn't make it more real than any other reality though. That's like saying you're scared of putting on a new shirt/ outfit because you'd be "jumping" into a reality where you're wearing a different outfit. That means that you'd be scared in everything you do, because your reality "shifts" with everything that you do.” - quoted from my girl @luckykiwiii101

Reality changes every second, your loved ones aren’t gonna disappear and change because of your outfit, yes when you pick that red skirt in the mall, your mum changes, but the only change she goes through is now being aware that you own a red skirt when you showed it to her on facetime. And if you picked the blue skirt she would vaunts but the only change being made is her now being aware that you own a blue skirt.

You don’t have an original reality, which is why people call it “current reality” because it’s the reality that your awareness is currently in. You can change that any time. Your innerman isn’t bound to just one reality because of what the 3d is showing you.

So stop asking if you’re going to see your family just because you want a new appearance via the void state. Stop asking if you should induce pure consciousness or just do “normal manifestating” It’s. The. Same. Thing. Shifting and manifesting have no difference, whatsoever. This doesn’t make things any less real and this doesn’t make your loved ones disposable, you’re a god and they don’t have to be “left behind” or change drastically if you don’t want them to. Everything but that desire of yours will stay the same if you want it to, stop asking stuff when your subconscious mind knows everything you want down to the minute details.

These questions and these fears ARE irrational because shifting IS first nature to you.

🌞☄️Do not let these irrational fears keep you from getting what you want.

[jasper-ontheoffbeat]

I’M UP HATING POP PSYCHOLOGY. MEMEME

to be more serious: i have empathy for the urge to compartmentalize like this. genuinely, i do— for some, processing trauma feels easier when there are ready-made labels for the things/people that hurt them. i so deeply understand the urge to file away overwhelming chaos; to make sense of the cruel and senseless; to be comforted by pop psych “gotcha” moments and cling to categorizations. i know what it feels like to try to neatly reorganize broken self-concepts and horrifying histories. i’ve dealt with this exact issue myself.

that being said… unfortunately, it just. doesn’t. work.

automatically slapping warning labels on ASPD, NPD, BPD, etc is simply not fair nor accurate. the nuances shouldn’t be ignored: does the concept that mental health matters come with conditions? does furthering the stigma really empower victims, or does it drive offenders away from self-awareness and recovery? does it really help to boil human behavior down to lists and labels, or does it just skew our perceptions of ourselves and others even further? is it productive to focus on condensing things, or should we ultimately focus on understanding the complexities that make generalization ultimately impossible?

this is NOT to say that ANYONE has to entertain or forgive abusive people. not at ALL. i’m also not saying those who don’t care to improve should be forgiven and/or granted the opportunity to keep treating others poorly. there is a stark a difference between acknowledging nuance and normalizing/excusing abuse— you can express pain without making harmful blanket statements. in fact, it’s straight up ignorant to disregard those who are working their asses off in recovery. these disorders can be uniquely challenging to live with, and stigma makes everything 10x worse, especially when trauma, defensiveness, and self-hatred are inseparable from disordered beliefs/behaviors. you have EVERY right to cut off shitty individuals and despise them and feel rage and do whatever you need to do to heal— at the same time, people who present in malignant ways won’t get any better if they’re universally met with hostility. after all, 99% of the time, recovery seems like a far better outcome than total shunning. wouldn’t it be so much better if these people had safe spaces in which they could to learn to never abuse other humans again, and to develop healthier self-concepts?

(i say this as someone who’s been abused horribly countless times by people who present like this, developed BPD as a result, and gone through wild amounts of intensive therapy. i no longer meet the criteria for BPD.)

(of course, there are some acts that are UNFORGIVABLE. those require a… unique approach. i don’t feel qualified to go into that territory because personal experiences have left me way too biased; just know that i don’t mean to erase that line.)

also, re: MBTI/love language/brain development/brain gendering/dark empathy/blah blah blah: the same principle applies. individuals’ psychological makeups and backgrounds are too complex to accurately box in. that is the nature of the human condition, and even though it gets overwhelming, at the end of the day, it’s beautiful! there is no linear pathway for anything, and that is a GOOD thing! at best, all of those words can provide useful loose blueprints for furthering introspection; at worst, they create interpersonal divides that are either based on faulty assumptions or entirely non-existent.

we don’t have to fit into boxes to find community. it’s fine to use things like MBTI and love languages as cute, unweighted bonding tools, BUT in order to truly understand each other’s wants, needs, traits, and issues, we simply need to COMMUNICATE. no matter how isolated we feel in our struggles, WE ARE NOT ALONE. we are all mosaics of the experiences that have shaped us, and we each deserve to be understood as works of art, not as sums of our most basic parts.

tl;dr pop psychology egregiously simplifies human behavior and it is Not helpful as it seems

who up hating pop psychology

[fishnapple]

How will they protect the relationship

(lover/partner/future spouse) - Channelled message

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

GROUP 1

Sometimes, I fear that you will get used to our relationship to the point of boredom, that our relationship will become just a habit, a routine that you do everyday, mechanically, without enthusiasm or passion. That fear crept in my mind, taking roots, and there will be moments when I let it grow and poke its branches out. Imaginary scenarios swirl in my mind, threatening to spiral out of control.

But I will snap out of it in no time. I'm a master at bringing myself out of the dark, I'm a good runner, running in the night long enough, and you're bound to see the sun rise again. I will try to look at myself first, from an objective lens, to find where I can change, what baggage I need to get rid of. Then I will look at our relationship, I will find a way to lift it up, make it exciting again. Do you like puzzles? Do you like sculpting? Would you like to try a new recipe? Let's forget for a moment all our adult responsibilities and be free. To be excited teenagers again, falling in love for the first time again. I will write you love letters full of typos, sending you half-baked cakes and cringy T-shirts, you will laugh and you will join me.

I do notice that there are some people around us, people who shouldn't come that close, who shouldn't be there at all. They don't understand the concept of respecting other people's boundaries. They will try to turn a blind eye to our commitment, pretend that it doesn't exist. Blatantly coming in without knocking, thinking that they can just take you away from me and me from you. They think that their tactics are subtle enough, that in time, they can corrode our bond. Little touches here and there, the gaze, the "innocent" banters. I can see them all, I will try to put a distance between me and them, so I hope you will do that too, I also hope that you will patiently listen to me when I warn you of those people. Yes, sometimes you will have to call me a possessive person. I just want to shut out everyone dare to threaten us, to find a place where only us exist. But that's impossible, I know, so the best I can do is tell them off as clear as possible, trying to show that we're together, there's no space between us. Let them be jealous, we just need to focus on us and walk away, hand in hand.

GROUP 2

I know we have a lot of unspoken words stuck inside. The silence between can sometimes grow to such a suffocating weight, pushing us down, deeper and deeper into our own abyss.

We both will be so uncertain of our future together, where will we go, is there a place strong enough to shelter us, are we strong enough? We hope for the same things, we are so alike, even our fears are alike, and I don't know whether to be happy or sad about this.

Our bond will be tested numerous times. There will be a time when we've almost given up, but fate or whatever higher powers are at play here, will bring us back together, anew and ready to try again. I wasn't a spiritual person, but by being with you, being in this relationship, I began to believe in something intangible, in the unknown, it scared me, but all I can do is to move forward, with you, and that's where our fears begin. We move forward together, into the unknown future that holds no concrete promise.

Then I realised we've forgotten to remember where we've put our wishes in, what we've wished for. If we can just remember, then there's no point in worrying. I will give you a hint: it's a wish that spans from the past to the future. We felt like we've known each other for a long time when we first met, and I believe we will be in each other's lives for the far future to see. That belief alone is enough for me to feel brave. And I will sit down, take out my pens and notebook, and begin to scribble down the plan, the path for us, give voice to the stuck words inside, air them out. I will show you that plan and tell you to not worry about the future, instead just focus on this current life in front of us, we got this, believe in us.

GROUP 3

Sometimes, I think that we are two pieces of puzzles fit perfectly together. If not, then there's no way to explain how you have everything I lack, and I, in turn, have an abundance of things that you don't. We have our fair share of issues that alone, we seem to lack the strength to tackle them, but together, they seem so silly and easy. You can be the wind and I will be the pipes, you can be the water and I will be the pump. Now that sounds silly, but you get my gist. There will be times when you cry, I will be there, holding you close and being the cool headed one to make logical decisions. There will be times when I'm so down, you will be there, holding me close and being the soft pillow that raises my head up.

There will be problems, from inside and outside, but I believe we can weather them all. The problems will mainly come from the place of insecurities and misunderstanding. People's words can be cutting and unintentionally hurtful, sometimes intentionally. They sow the seeds of doubts inside our minds. But let's believe in the visions of ourselves and of each other. We see ourselves best. We will sit down, talk it all out, there's no barrier between us. I'm proud of our direct and open way of communicating. I can always count on us to be rational and discuss things until we can reach a solution. Yes, there might be tears and angry voices here and there, but they are the minority and will go away quickly. We're too sure of our commitment and ourselves to let those bother us for too long.

Whatever action needed to be taken, it would be taken swiftly. If it's required of me to be cutting something, somebody out of our life, I will do it, no hesitation. Because I trust in our judgement. And if it's required to move, I will move. I'm afraid distance will be our biggest hurdle. But we will find a way to be closer. Many things will need to be changed, our jobs, our homes. But we won't fear changes. Because changes will bring us to a better future.

GROUP 4

I want to prepare you beforehand, our relationship will be scrutinised by a lot of people. It's not like we are celebrities or anything. Why do they have to care so much? I honestly don't know and don't care either. Our bond just attracts a lot of jealousy and objections. The idea of us together will piss people off. They want something, a fixed future for us, they expect it, but then they have to watch a totally different outcome, surprises, surprises.

Particularly those who have authority over us, they're supposed to be the wise guidance, the benevolent power that can protect us, but they will turn their backs on us, worse, they will turn their sneering gaze and contemptuous words on us. That can't be helped, I guess, we're the rebels, we go against their rules and expectations. I know you will want our bond to be blessed by those around us, I want it too, but reality is something we will have to face. At first, we may even have to hide our love, it's frustrating.

Don't worry, I will be strong for us, you won't even have to fight anything, just let me take care of it. I have enough strength to do that. Don't picture the image of me making a foray against them like a bull thrusting its horn angrily. I have enough wit not to do that, just like how I've charmed you with my words, I can do it too, to other people, the people who are against us. If it doesn't work, then I will just be my best, showing them how much of a good life I'm having with you. In the end, I just don't really care. We have our love and that's enough. We can always move away, to a better place. You will be surprised just how much freedom we do have.

[hermanoga]

this scene will have a special place in my heart REGARDLESS of what is about to unfold, even after the end of Link Click

Lu Guang's genuine happy smile slowly breaks as he looks at silly Cheng Xiaoshi.

it's not just a small smile we usually see

it's a smile that takes over the looming gloominess we have seen for the entire 3 seasons

this smile is DIFFERENT. The pleasant warm forest background along with the young green leaves falling on them, it is one of the most beautiful framings of shiguang I have ever seen. If the leaves were yellow/orange, it would have made me cry like a howling hyena because that signifies 'the autumn of life', death is not far away. But it's green and young! it symbolises young and pure love. The warmth of the forest really holds them like a blanket. This scene is vibrant with youthfulness and lively spirit, and the focus of the scene is THEM.

You know what is interesting, why is Yingdu so special? We had multiple opportunities in S1 and S2 to see Shiguang framed like this but they deliberately avoided it. for example take this scene,

the focus is on their hands, which is of course very symbolic and it just looks like Cheng Xiaoshi just asked,

"Would you like to be my life partner?"

- "yes"

but they didn't show their faces.

But I am not here just to talk about Shiguang. It's him

there is something in his expressions that pleasantly sends shivers to my heart.

He is genuinely happy to cross paths with them, probably in another life, he would not meet them as a spy. In another timeline, he would have enough agency upon his life to choose to befriend them of his own volition. Link Click is so agonisingly beautiful to portray the often ignored yet deep yearning of the human mind, the yearning to meet people who make you believe in 'found family', even if it's for a fleeting moment, you are grateful to be able to form human bondings, with people who feel to be 'your people'. You know when Beckett said that the fundamental condition of human existence is being enveloped by loneliness and that's why they are constantly in search of the 'others'...he was painfully truthful.

Whatever transpires (even if it's Xia Fei who actually kills Cheng Xiaoshi and wants to kill Lu Guang) this scene will not lose its value. On the contrary, the emotions will be more profound. In a world where destiny had not designed such a heinous survival game, we will be alive and happy together.

Another thing (apart from their friendship) he realises is that...how Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang are so deeply in love. (Listen, Ik the dialogues may add a whole different meaning altogether but I wanna write it cuz it makes me happy hmph!) He recognises it, and kind of wishes something of that in his own life too. I would not be surprised if he actually views shiguang as the model lovers he kind of pines for in his own life too ( probably with Vein-)

whatever, this scene is PRICELESS!

edit : this.

[salemlunaa]

WHY YOU CANT MANIFEST THE STATE OF PURE CONSCIOUSNESS FOR OTHERS

it looks like some people have rocks for brains

@empyrealoasis also has a lovely read on this explaining perfectly: right here, so check that out!!

you ask me why the void pact doesn’t work again, i made an analogy using canvases: “let’s say you’re painting in class with your friend, and you all have big canvases to paint many little pictures. Your paintbrush only works on your canvas, it’s not possible for you to paint on your friend’s canvas or anyone else. You can create a small drawing on your canvas depicting your friend eating an apple, but it’s not on their canvas. You can’t paint that picture on their canvas, And it’s not a reflection of their own experiences or preferences. They have to do it themselves or their canvas will NEVER contain a picture of them eating an apple, the version of your friend that is on your canvas is eating an apple but the version of your friend on their own canvas isn’t. The outcome of your friend having a picture of them eating an apple on their canvas is 0, unless they paint it themselves. It’s not a limiting belief because you can paint ANYTHING you want on YOUR canvas, it just won’t show up on theirs.”

and i will keep on posting this analogy until you get it through your heads

this person has used people manifesting healing for their family as an argument or someone manifesting a little girl to be found after she was deemed missing. What is so hard to understand:

Manifesting healing for a family member or finding a missing person is done through the manifester's own intention and focus. It's about shifting their reality to align with a desired outcome, not about 'entering the void' on someone else's behalf. The outcome influences their perception of reality, but it doesn't involve physically transporting others to or from the void.

Manifestation works within the framework of your own reality. While your manifestations can influence events involving others, they don't 'override' others' free will or autonomy. The void is a personal experience-you can only use it to manifest changes within your perception of reality, not to directly act on someone else's behalf.

These examples are about manifestation, not proof of someone going to the void for someone else. Healing and synchronicities can happen through energy alignment or intention, without requiring someone to physically access the void on behalf of another person.

If it's possible to go to the void for others, why isn't it being used to instantly end all suffering in the world? Doesn't that suggest the void is personal and limited to individual intent?

If you can manifest the void for someone, you can also manifest death for someone right,so won’t you drop dead randomly because someone decided to induce for that? why haven’t any of you reached the void state yet? if someone scripts a war in their desired reality (for…idk angst or something) then why aren’t we in a tragic world war right now? If someone scripts that in their desired reality religion won’t exist, does the religion you practice just cease to exist when they induce? If someone scripts that your country doesn’t exist, do you guys just randomly vanish into thin air? These are the questions they never wanna answer? since we can do anything right?Since what i’m saying is apparently a “limiting belief” Since you can apparently alter someone’s life with the void to the point where they induce, why can’t all this other stuff happen, but we’re the ones cherrypicking…? okay….

And no, we’re not cherrypicking Neville’s teachings; we’re interpreting them with clarity and context. Neville emphasized the power of imagination and individual consciousness in shaping reality. While he taught that we can manifest outcomes that involve others, he never suggested we could directly control or override someone else’s consciousness by ‘entering the void’ for them. The void state is a deeply personal experience, and using Neville’s work to justify claims that contradict the foundational principles of manifestation—such as personal autonomy and responsibility—is a misinterpretation, not selective understanding.

And the big question everyone wants to know, where are these success stories, and i’m not talking about someone manifesting a relationship for their bestie or someone manifesting money for their father, i mean void state success stories. Since the void is as easy as breathing, where is the evidence that the 100+ of you in this pact have induced pure consciousness? we’re all waiting for the influx of successes

With this deranged ideology and the way you’ve been speaking to people in dms, i’m starting to come to the belief that you don’t even believe in this “pact” yourself, you’re preying on people who are desperate and you’re using them to bring drama into the community. If you actually believed this you would use this energy to supposedly reach the void state for all your little friends, i mean since you’re the main preacher?

No one is trying to be mean when we say that if you believe that SOMEONE ELSE is going to do this for you, you don’t understand the state of pure consciousness and how easy it actually is, if you believe that someone people are more capable than others (which you are affirming btw) you don’t understand what this actually is, and without understanding nothing can be done.

And from now my account will ONLY be for people who are willing to do anything it takes to get their dream lives this year. The only possible way to do this is by yourself and i’m ready to interact with my people who believe and are ready to do what it takes. Call me mean, i. don’t. care. i’m trying to help you and stop you from wasting your time.

Keep your cult away from people who actually want something out of this year

These people will still be here asking and bullying people into believing, don’t make yourself one of them.

i’m going to take my own advice and focus on people who deserve it. it’s 2025 enough of this drama farming

𓇼 ˚∘ therefore we can’t alter ANOTHER persons life due to our own “I AM” intentions, and we never will

@void1finder here’s your answer, again, weirdo

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I am not EVERY autistic person so this probably won't be a total coverage approach, but here's what I have learned:

People like to feel that you pay attention to and remember little but important things about them. And when someone is "small-talking" with you, it is often because they either want to offer you some of that info about themselves, or they want to pearn it about you so they can "return the effort". I think of it a bit like call and response with my cats! They don't understand me, and I don't understand them, but when I walk into the kitchen each morning, Lup runs towards me excitedly making her tiny little squeaks and trills. That's kitty small-talk! Many words of all varieties just say "I love you! I missed you! I'm happy to be here with you today!"

So I answer her! Sometimes I mimic her little sounds, and other times I pretend we're gossiping like church ladies (*gasp* NO, you're KIDDING, he said THAT?? What a scandal!") But whichever I do Lup gets excited and continues her little "conversation" with me.

People are harder. I had to really take time and practice different ways of responding before I found appropriate "call and response" for small talk, but I found that there are genuinely more options than you'd think. And the same thing happened! As I learned how to "call and respond" to small talk, I found that people would excitedly approach me to have it, and gradually we got to know each other enough that the "calls" coming from both sides got less general, more tailored to our personal preferences and interests, and I didn't have to small talk as much (but when I did it wasn't as scary either)

This isn't just my personal theory either! A fair amount of research in interpersonal/social in-group dynamics suggests that "bids for attention" like small talk function in this way of call-and-response intimacy/connection building. I have found that a LOT of social etiquette gets less scary to navigate when I at least understand the function of it. It also gave me some understsnding of why people might be hurt when I visibly don't WANT to "respond" to a "call" they've made: I'm the same way about my "calls" I just use different ones! The way I feel when I ask someone "would you want to hang out with me in the kitchen while I make lunch?" (Sad, a little anxious or vulnerable, maybe hurt if they've said no to a LOT of recent calls, etc) is the same way others feel when I decline theirs! That doesn't change if it was MISSED rather than DECLINED, but it can be repaired! Ao another thing I've taken to doing is naming for people the calls I have learned I'm most likely to miss. I know I have a hard time understanding/recognizing small talk as a call to attention, so I let people know that! And generally the people I connect best with are the ones who notice I missed a call and offer me an explicit/direct opportunity to reject it before internalizing what I've done as a rejection. This isn't really an option for everyone! And while I'm always delighted when someone is compatible with me in that way, I don't get upset if they're not, and work to not take it personally as something I'm doing wrong either.

Anyway, this got rambly at the end there, but the point is, most social interactions have a FUNCTION and while being autistic frequently means that we struggle to learn and interact in these systems as they currently exist, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we don't also depend on those functions. I think it can be easy to forget that part of the "disabling" effects of social/communication symptoms in autism is how it cuts us off from systems of support, care, and human interconectedness (things we still NEED) and it can matter to our quality of life to be able to find compatible alternatives to fulfilling those functions even if the original mechanism (small talk in this case) doesn't suit us.

Being bad at small talk doesn't mean you don't need friends, but it will probably make it very hard to MAKE friends. And we each and all deserve to decide for ourselves what to do about that.

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[honeyjynxxed]

DeadTired Draft

"You're very good at pretending to be a shadow."

Tim's voice shook Danny from his quiet note taking and he looked up at his study partner with furrowed brows and confusion on his face. "I'm sorry?" It was as much a question as it was an apology which meant it was neither really.

Electric blue eyes pinned him in place, and Tim looked at Danny as if he had just said the sky was green. "If I had not been partnered with you in our ecology class I wouldn't know you exist. No one at this school knows you exist besides the staff and even then you're a name to a face to a grade. Nothing else. You're very good at pretending to be a shadow, a bodiless thing gliding along the edges of society."

Danny bit his lip slightly, mulling these words over. Tim was right of course, he never allowed himself to make waves, he stuck to the background of any place he was in, and really he was surprised that he wasn't more noticeable with how often Tim Drake-Wayne was his study partner. "I guess...I've never really like attention anyway. Why, you stalking me, Drake?" He raised a brow at the other boy, attempting to hide his confusion behind snark. He hardly ever used Tim's last name, either of them, but this seemed like an appropriate time to do so.

"Hiding something, Nightingale?" Tim snarked back but there was a bit of genuine questioning under his tone that had Danny tensing up in his sit, gripping his pencil a little too tightly in his left hand. "I can only contact you through your student email, you don't have a phone number or a phone period as far as I can tell, you have a laptop that barely works and seemingly requires a blood sacrifice to do the most basic of tasks. You live on campus but you never let me see your dorm, you never agree to meet me anywhere but the library on campus and I just-" He lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair and suddenly Danny is a lot less tense in his seat. When Tim's eyes settle on him again there's genuine concern there and it breaks his heart. "I am worried. Daniel Nightingale doesn't exist outside of this college and it makes me think you're running from something or someone. If that isn't the cause then by all means please tell me I'm overstepping but Danny..." Tim reaches across the table that separates them and grabs at his free hand. "If you need help I'm here, ok?"

And oh...oh Danny's core positively sings in his chest at the admission. Protection was a major obsession for Danny and the way Tim talked, the way he explained his thought process, it made Danny feel warm and fuzzy inside despite the permanent chill in his body. Tim wanted to protect him and wasn't that so sweet? "I-" Danny stuttered before a sad smile was spreading across his lips and he gave the boy's hand a gentle squeeze. "I appreciate that but unless you have a way to somehow get an entire government organization disbanded and legislature revoked then I'm afraid this is out of your ballpark."

And really, Danny should've known better than to open his fat mouth. He should've known that the Fenton luck would bite him in the ass with his first real friend since Sam and Tucker. Tim may have dropped the conversation after that but by no means had he dropped the topic entirely. No instead apparently he had somehow gotten into contact with the Justice League because less than two weeks later Batman, Red Robin, Superman, and John Constantine of all people were waiting for him inside his dorm when he got back from a late night of studying.

What.

The.

Fuck.

[prettylilyanime]

Blooming Hearts ♡ Chapter 05

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: subtle yn lore gets dropped here…

˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

After Bakugou had been generous enough to help haul in your endless pile of boxes—a consequence of your admittedly irresponsible spending—it seemed he decided to spare you further torment by announcing his departure.

Something about heading to the training arena to "get some real work done."

Not that his presence was bad.

No, it was torturous in the best way possible!

The I-want-him-to-stay-in-my-room-forever-and-keep-calling-me-princess kind of way.

Did that sound crazy?

Even with your ever-growing crush on the blonde, you couldn’t deny the wave of relief that washed over you at his exit.

He’d seen you like this—flustered, fumbling, barely holding yourself together—had even insisted you put on those stupid glasses, and yet…

Somehow, it wasn’t as horrible as you expected.

A warm flutter settled in your chest at the realization. He hadn’t cared about your appearance, hadn’t picked you apart like so many others had. It was a refreshing change from the judgment you’d grown used to.

You never quite understood why people felt so comfortable talking about your looks.

You barely felt comfortable talking to people, period.

And yet, strangers—people who didn’t know a thing about you—felt entitled to comment.

Your figure was amazing. Your hair looked great. What diets had you gone on?

God…

Bakugou didn’t seem to care about��any of that.

His focus had been on your vision—or lack thereof. A stupid little thing, but the fact that he didn't seem to care about your looks made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Now, left alone in the quiet of your room, you sat cross-legged on your bed, manicured fingers scrolling through your phone.

Your official account, @OfficiallyFlora, gleamed on the screen. The blue checkmark beside your username felt more like a weight than an accomplishment.

Your profile picture, an overly polished shot of you in your glittering hero costume—stared back at you. The flawless image, taken against a pristine white backdrop, was the product of your mother’s money and marketing efforts.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

Too pretty. Too refined. Too far from the girl sitting here now, sock clad in her bedroom, still reeling from the lingering scent of caramel and smoke that Bakugou had left behind.

Are your teeth really even that white in person?

You don’t know…

Your bio reads: Official Page of Pro-Hero Prospect Flora, making your hearts bloom with every step towards justice!

You sighed, rolling your eyes hard enough to strain something. The bio had been written by your mother’s PR team, dripping with saccharine energy that made you cringe every time you read it.

The rest of your feed wasn’t much better: high-definition shots of battles, cherry blossom-themed merch promotions, and glamorous magazine features.

It was a glossy, manufactured version of you that bore little resemblance to the person staring at the screen, glasses perpetually sliding down her nose.

Growing bored of the staged content, you switched to your private account.

Your followers on this one are, well. Your classmates, surprisingly enough, and one of your mother's pool boys who had asked for your Instagram years ago before you ever even had an official page in hopes of getting to talk to you more?!

You can't help but quirk a brow, you should really get him off your page...

Here, the photos were more personal: snapshots of your travels, close-ups of meals you’d enjoyed, and a random assortment of things that caught your eye.

The likes rarely climb beyond single digits, but it was real and a better representation of yourself than the other page.

A pang of curiosity struck as your fingers moved on autopilot, typing in Bakugou’s name.

His official account, curated by Best Jeanist’s team, popped up first. His posts were as structured as yours—action shots, hero promotions, and carefully orchestrated PR moves.

But unlike how you felt about your feed, his action shots were breathtaking.

One image, in particular, caught your attention: Bakugou holding a tiny kitten that had been stuck in a tree. His sharp features softened as he cradled the fluffy creature, his biceps bulging against his hero suit.

You snorted, amused by the juxtaposition. No matter how intimidating he looked, the sight of him with a kitten was almost too much.

Shaking your head, you scrolled through some of your classmates’ accounts. Their updates showed them at the beach, enjoying pizza nights, and huddled around a glowing campfire.

Seems like without Bakugou around to act as head chef, they had to order takeout instead.

You frowned, an unshakable pit forming in your stomach.

You drop your phone onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. Maybe what you needed was a nice meal—something indulgent to shake off the restless energy.

The thought of heading to the nearest convenience store for another pint of ice cream crosses your mind, the idea warm and tempting. But no.

Not this time.

Instead, maybe you could make an effort. Doll yourself up a bit, put on some makeup, and head out into town. Who needs a big group when you’ve got yourself?

Determined to follow through, you sit up and scan the endless boxes of your new purchases. Finally, you land on a little buttercup-yellow tweed Chanel set, complete with a mini skirt and cropped blazer.

You slip it on, the fabric hugging your figure perfectly and highlighting your silhouette in all the right places.

Hell, for this price point, it better do all of the above!

You turn to your vanity, reaching for your makeup bag. You opt for a soft, casual look—subtle yet radiant, with just enough shimmer to catch the light. Twinkly in all the right places.

To complete the look, you sling a new ivory-colored purse over your shoulder. A cute yellow dandelion charm clipped to the side adds just the right touch of cuteness.

Standing in front of the mirror, you take a moment to admire your reflection. You look polished, confident, like someone ready to take on the evening—even if it’s a solo adventure.

Maybe you’d check out that new sushi spot closer to home!

Yeah, it’s fine that your classmates wouldn’t join you! They'd probably just make you more anxious anyways.

But as you’re heading downstairs and toward the door, you suddenly freeze. A realization dawns on you.

Hajime has the weekend off.

You groan out loud. How are you going to get there? You can’t drive!

Frustration bubbles up, and you slap your forehead. Were you really this helpless? The thought makes you wince, embarrassment creeping in at the edges of your thoughts.

"If I speak, you gonna jump and scream again?" A voice, an irritatingly familiar voice announces his presence.

The familiar gruff voice startles you, and admittedly, you do almost scream. Holding it back though, you whirl around to see Bakugou having just walked out of the elevator behind you.

He seems freshly showered, with his hair still a bit damp, out and pushed back from his handsome face. You could smell him from where you're standing.

Ugh, delicious as usual.

“You did kind of surprise me,” you admit, voice sheepish as your eyes dart away from him.

His eyes roam over your figure quickly, though you don't notice the action over your own mourning of the evening.

“You’re going out?”

The question leaves his mouth before he can stop it, and if he could, he’d smack himself upside the head. Why the hell did he even ask? It’s obvious you are. And more importantly—why is he even starting a conversation in the first place?

Up until literally yesterday, you were just another classmate. Background noise. But these back-to-back interactions are becoming unavoidable, and unfortunately, you’re slipping out of the backdrop and into his world.

You shake your head, lips pulling into a soft, resigned smile. “Well, I was going to, but… I just realized I don’t have any way of getting there.”

“Hah? Can’t take the train?”

Heat blooms across your face, creeping down your neck. “Oh, well… I’ve never taken public transportation.”

There’s a beat of silence—just long enough for you to see the exact moment Bakugou short-circuits.

“Is that some shitty joke?”

You thought your cheeks couldn’t possibly burn hotter, but—oh, look at that! They can!

“I- um, well, no. It’s not.” You swallow, fiddling with the strap of your ivory purse. “Hajime’s driven me everywhere since I was little.”

He blinks, slowly. More in disbelief than anything.

“Hajime?”

You nod. “Yeah, um… my personal driver.”

For a second, you think he might actually roll his eyes. On anyone else, the whole spoiled rich kid routine would piss him off. But with you, it’s different.

Maybe it’s the way you look so flustered, like you’re embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe it’s the way your voice dips, like you’re apologizing for just existing.

Either way, it leaves him feeling something weird—something dangerously close to wanting to help. Again.

Twice in one day. A world record, if he says so himself.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

You wince, shoulders curling inward. “I know! It’s bad, okay? But it’s just how I was raised…”

How you were raised?

Bakugou’s brow lifts slightly. So what, you were raised to be a stay-at-home daughter? Spend money like it’s a full-time job?

He knows about your family. Everyone does.

A mother who inherited an entire hero firm from your grandparents—a dynasty so powerful its stocks and investments practically fuel Japan’s economy. And a father who died in the field before you were even born—a rising star in the hero world, gone far too soon.

Your mother, a young heiress to millions. Your father, a pro hero at the height of his career. Expecting their first child. A baby girl—you.

And then, just like that, it all came crashing down.

A mission gone wrong.

A hero lost.

Your father’s death sent shockwaves through the country, leaving Japan in mourning—not just for the man he was, but for the legend he never got the chance to become.

He doesn’t say anything right away—just stares at you with an unreadable expression that makes your stomach churn.

Then, without warning, he mutters, “Get your stuff. We’re going.”

Your head snaps up. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.” He’s already pulling on his sneakers, his movements brisk and determined. “No way in hell am I letting you graduate from U.A. without knowing how to take a damn train. That’s pathetic.”

“Bakugou, you really don’t have to—”

“Second time today.” He cuts you off with a sharp look over his shoulder. “It’s already happening. Move it, princess.”

Your mouth opens, ready to argue—but the words die in your throat when you see the set of his jaw, the fire in his gaze. He’s not going to back down.

You’re not sure what’s more overwhelming—the idea of taking your first train ride…

Or the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is the one dragging you along for the ride.

You gulp, hurrying after him as he strides out of the dormitory, his natural pace effortlessly long and brisk. You almost trip trying to keep up, the heels of your boots clicking against the pavement.

God, why does he walk so fast?

“We’ve got a station down the block from the UA gates,” he says, barely glancing at you. “We’ll go to that one.”

You nod, stiff as a board. “Gotcha. So, um… where did you want to go?”

His blonde brow arches, the side of his lip curling like you just said something unbelievably stupid. “What? This isn’t about me. This is about teaching you how to get on a damn train.”

You wince, embarrassed. “Right. That makes sense.”

The two of you walk in relative silence, the crisp evening air settling over you like a thin veil.

The streets leading to the station aren’t crowded, but there are enough people out that you can feel the occasional passing glance—whether they recognize you as a hero-in-training or simply because you look like you don’t belong in a place as mundane as a train station, you’re not sure.

Your perfectly tailored blazer, Italian leather purse, and neatly manicured nails feel almost too polished for the scuffed pavement beneath your feet.

Bakugou, on the other hand, fits in seamlessly.

His hands are shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his comfy sweatpants loose around his legs and tight at his waist.

He looks completely at ease, like this is just another part of his day—meanwhile, your heartbeat is rattling in your ears at the thought of navigating a train station for the first time.

After a few minutes, you reach the station entrance, the underground stairway yawning open before you. A few commuters shuffle past, swiping their cards at the turnstiles, moving like they’ve done this a million times.

You, however, stay frozen at the top of the stairs.

Bakugou doesn’t notice at first, too busy pulling out his own train pass. But when he looks up and sees you still standing there, brows drawn tight with hesitation, he sighs.

“Seriously?” He tilts his head, exasperation flickering in his red eyes. “It’s just a staircase, princess.”

“I know it’s just a staircase,” you huff, crossing your arms. “I just—” You hesitate, glancing down at the tiled steps leading into the station.

You’ve never been in one of these before, never had to navigate the organized chaos of public transport, never had to think about swiping a train card or picking a route.

A ridiculous thought hits you—you’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you don’t know how to take a train… or the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is the one who has to teach you.

You bite your lip, it's silly and you know it. “What if I mess up?”

Bakugou stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he snorts.

“With that attitude, you’re definitely gonna mess up. Sour face you got going on”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

His smirk is almost smug. “But that’s the whole damn point. You mess up, you figure it out, and then you won’t be a clueless dumbass next time.”

You scowl. “Your motivational speeches suck.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes before nudging your shoulder—just a small push, barely enough to make you step forward, but it’s enough to shake you out of your own head.

“Come on,” he mutters, starting down the stairs. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You inhale sharply and, with no other choice, follow him down.

The air shifts as you descend—cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of rails and the distant hum of an approaching train. Your grip tightens around the strap of your purse, nerves bubbling in your chest.

Why is everything so loud down here?!

Bakugou moves ahead, seamlessly navigating through the turnstiles. He scans his card with an effortless flick of his wrist, stepping through without hesitation.

You, on the other hand, stop in front of the machine, frowning at it like it’s a puzzle you weren’t given the pieces to.

Bakugou turns, watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he drawls.

You glance at the screen, then back at your card. “Do I just… tap it?”

“No, you rub it on the damn thing and hope it opens.”

Your glare is sharp, but you say nothing, instead hesitantly pressing the card against the sensor. The gate beeps, unlocking with a mechanical click.

You blink. That’s it?

“Wow, you did it.” Bakugou’s tone is mockingly slow, like he’s congratulating a toddler for taking their first steps.

You don’t know how, when, or what possesses you with a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, your hand reaches out, shoving his shoulder.

His muscled frame barely budges under your touch, solid beneath the fabric of his hoodie.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He snorts, a short chuckle slipping out as he steps toward the platform, the train’s arrival chime ringing through the station.

Then, as you approach the edge of the platform, a realization slams into you like a ton of bricks.

“…Wait.” You stop in your tracks, eyes widening. “How do I know which train to take?”

Bakugou exhales so deeply it sounds like his soul is actively trying to escape his body.

“God help me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his jaw tightening as if he’s physically restraining himself from saying something he’ll regret.

For the first time today, you swear he actually looks pained.

Oh lord. Oh good grief. If you were just about anybody else right now, Bakugou wouldn’t just be snapping—he’d be out of here so fast, you’d be left choking on smoke.

The fact that a pro-hero-in-training, someone who’s supposed to be saving lives, has never taken a damn train is the kind of thing that should be illegal.

So why is he still here?

Why hasn’t he turned on his heel, thrown up his hands, and left you to fend for yourself like any rational, self-respecting person would?

He blinks, his gaze lingering on your face, and for a brief moment—so fast you almost miss it—you swear there’s something unreadable flickering behind those sharp red eyes.

Maybe it’s the way your lashes frame your doe-like eyes, dark and long, casting delicate shadows across your cheeks. Curse you and your stupid, stupid eyes. Is this some kind of second quirk? A hypnosis ability?

Or maybe—just maybe—it’s the way you fidget without realizing it.

Your hands twist together, fingers tangling like they’re trying to hold onto something steady.

Absentmindedly, you twirl the diamond-encrusted eternity band on your index finger, turning it over and over in a nervous rhythm. It catches the dim station light, flashing every time you spin it.

Bakugou’s gaze follows the movement, and something about the unconscious gesture makes his scowl deepen.

“…Tch.” He clicks his tongue, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “You really are helpless, huh?”

The words are gruff, edged with frustration, but he still doesn’t walk away.

Instead, he takes a step toward you, nodding toward the digital display overhead. The glowing letters flicker slightly, listing station names, times, and train lines in a way that makes your head spin.

“C’mon, dumbass. I’ll show you how to read the damn schedule before you get yourself lost in the middle of the city.”

Relief washes over you as you quickly follow his lead. “Ah, thank you!”

“Don’t thank me… just pay attention.”

And you do. You pay such good attention that by the time you finally grasp how the whole system works, you’re practically bouncing on your heels in excitement, a bright grin stretching across your face.

You stand on the platform, buzzing with a newfound confidence, while Bakugou—looking as perpetually unimpressed as ever—waits beside you with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets.

Then, the distant hum of the train grows louder, and soon enough, the sleek cars pull into the station with a sharp metallic whir.

The doors slide open, and you eagerly step forward, your heeled boots clicking against the platform as you move inside. Bakugou follows closely behind, scanning the interior in one quick glance.

The train is relatively full—enough that only one open seat remains near the doors. Without hesitation, Bakugou nudges you toward it.

“Sit,” he says gruffly, grabbing onto the nearest safety pole as the doors begin to close.

You shake your head, brushing him off. “I’m okay.”

He scoffs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “The train moves fast and isn’t super smooth. I’m sure you don’t wanna go through all that with those on.”

You glance down at your shoes—sleek, heeled boots, stylish but sturdy. Your lips curve into a small smile.

“I’ll have you know my hero costume boots are even higher than these.”

His brow arches slightly, the hint of sarcasm sparking in his eyes. “Yeah? I’m impressed, considering how fast you ran away from me on day one.”

Oh, hell.

Heat creeps up your neck at the reminder, your confidence faltering for a split second. But you recover quickly, squaring your shoulders with a dramatic huff.

“Wow, Bakugou Katsuki, impressed? By little ol’ me?” You place a hand over your heart, feigning exaggerated awe. “It’s an honor.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but there’s something unreadable in the way his gaze lingers on you for just a moment longer.

Then, the train lurches forward.

Despite all your earlier bravado, you do wobble slightly—just enough for Bakugou’s smirk to return in full force.

“…Told you to sit, dumbass.”

But you can’t.

Not because you’re too stubborn. Not because you’re still trying to prove a point.

But because—oh.

A singular, large hand is suddenly tight on your waist, steadying you with an effortless grip.

Oh my.

Who needs a safety rail when Pro Hero Dynamight is holding you like this?!

You internally scream, the realization hitting you all at once. The touch itself isn’t anything crazy—it’s barely even a thing, just a reflex, something automatic, instinctual. Nothing compared to the absolute torture of this morning’s, uh, straddling situation.

And yet, this feels just as bad—if not worse.

Why? Because Bakugou, in all his brash, loud, obnoxious glory, doesn’t even seem to realize he’s still holding onto you.

His grip is firm, warm even through the thick expensive fabric of your clothes, and worst of all? It lingers.

Still there.

Still present.

Still burning through your skin like a brand.

Oh, hell.

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

[chuluoyi]

before i get another unpleasant ask/long-ass rant about why you hate this specific fictional character and force your unwarranted opinion on me like this again, let me just put it out here:

you all lads players have the right to choose which LI suit you best. pick your own poison

you are entitled to dislike caleb if you’re uncomfortable with his trope. but this doesn’t give you the right to police and force your hate on players who like him (and me) who do not share the same view as you. grow up and learn to respect other people’s opinions. or at the very least if you want to discuss our differing views, do it nicely

likewise, i won’t force my opinion on you either. i don’t care the least bit whether you like him or not. but this is my personal blog and i’ll say what i want to say. don’t like it? block me and move on. don’t try to convince me otherwise or argue with me bc i don’t care about your opinion at all

all of this is just a game. everyone in lads doesn’t exist. caleb’s toxicity you all talk about doesn’t exist in real life. what truly exists and is disgusting is your toxicity and immaturity. stop being miserable and spreading hate just bc you want to prove your point

hot take: if it’s sylus who’s acting like caleb, i bet you’ll eat it up still. it’s just a matter of your preference and your big sense of “entitlement” really—perhaps bc you spend money on the game. you think all people, including infold, have to cater to your wants only just bc you pay them… whereas infold is actually a business that’s thriving as is now in china, where their biggest market is. and you know what? cn fandom has none of this mad circus of caleb discourse at all, and what you and the entire global players spend on lads is nothing compared to what cn players do, so help yourself and this entire fandom by touching grass

[the-silliest-stiltwalker]

WHAT THE FUCK. ME TOO. I LITERALLY GOT INTO A TRIBUNAL AT MY LOCAL ARMORED COMBAT CHAPTER BECAUSE OF THIS. THE DOCTOR WHO STYLED RANDOM DECORATIONS??? A WALL OF FUNKO POPS?? CATAN??? BURLESQUE BUT LIKE, BADLY DONE NOT SUBVERSIVE AT ALL JUST A STRIP ROUTINE WITH SLIGHTLY EDGIER MUSIC???

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERES MORE OF THESE PEOPLE.

There was a couple who my other friend met at a local comic con and felt they were neat and I got introduced. We all got along well and they would occasionally come to my practices (it was an open invite, we practice at a local park we have permits). They didn’t participate but started making knight/queen/king jokes and I’d always wanted to try poly, so I figured why not, right?

Turns out the why not is they, without my knowledge, both kept extensive records of how much time the other spent with me. Exactly how many texts we spent each other, the dollar amount for my dinners/drinks/ubers, including the time we spent during coitus and how long it took each of us to climax.

The ended up culminating as I brought my armor to their apartment to sensually repair (leave me alone armor is hot okay) and their son walked in and said I needed to leave because this was about to be an ugly fight. The son who to my surprise existed! The son who apparently was not kept away from this!

I walked out, only to be bombarded with texts and calls including actual spreadsheets. I noped out of this all and completely blocked them.

Only to be met by my battlemaster that some rando on instagram had been accusing me of fucking their dog. So.

They blocked everyone, cut contact and fled our local area so maybe you met them!

I don't know why this keeps happening but I keep meeting toxic heterosexual couples who experiment with polyamory and are heavily into funko pops, board games, Disney princesses and Burlesque stripping and the man is always a withdrawn bearded dude and the woman is always a passive aggressive control freak with an Etsy shop that sells lawn gnomes styled after Dr Who characters and they don't really even seem to like each other but they're always exactly the same. this has happened four times

[genderqueerdykes]

tired transmasc from earlier. My discomfort with those who believe in "transandrophobia" is not from self-hate nor from radfems. It’s from listening to transfems. And I don’t believe men or masculinity are bad at all!! I am in community with with men and mascs and with women + fems all the time. It’s just plain ignorant to say we don’t have male privilege and are actually oppressed for being men. We do have privilege. The whole "everyone is saying men are evil!!" thing sounds so much like incel behaviour it’s really off putting.

hello again! thanks for dropping by, let me see if i can help explain things better, and as to why it's not okay to put down other trans men and deny that they are experience oppression just because you, one person, believes they are not. dont take this personally, but much like gravity, you not believing in it doesn't mean it's not happening. it's happening, you're just refusing to acknowledge it. this is the equivalent of plugging one's ears and humming when someone else starts talking

i'm gonna call this behavior for what it is, because yourself & every other self-flagellating trans man & transmasc who says transandrophobia doesn't exist because it belittles trans women are just hurting people ON PURPOSE with a thin guise of saying "listen to trans women!!!!!" i really hope you understand that trans women can see through that. we can tell that you're doing this specifically to hurt people, not to give trans women a platform to stand on. you think you are telling people to listen to trans women, but what you are doing is SILENCING trans men & mascs in order to do that. you can't do that to your own gender. you're silencing yourself in the process. you're participating in transmasculine erasure and this is not a good thing. don't be proud of that. don't be proud of erasing the things your siblings go through.

I have to be really, really honest with you and tell you that this kissing up to trans women for brownie points stuff is really, really obvious and none of us like it. Like I'm not being mean. Please don't take this in a sarcastic tone. I am stock serious when I say that trans women & transfems can tell when you are doing things to pander to us to act like you care about transfems and transfemininity. We can tell this is desperate virtue signalling to not look transmisogynistic and nothing else. I'm serious. You are hating people on purpose with the guise of trying to help trans women. You do not have to silence someone else in order to let trans women talk and listen to them.

If you do not want transfems & trans women to be silenced: do not silence someone else. You do not solve this problem by silencing someone else. We solve the problem by listening to each other, not forcing the other to sit in silence while only one person talks. You don't solve the problem by doing that exact thing to someone else. You're creating a new problem.

privilege is a power structure, trans men do not suddenly shoot up from oppressed woman to neurotypical cishet white able bodied man in terms of status in society. i need people to get this into their heads that trans men do not and will not ever shoot directly up the privilege ladder and instantly become abusive and predator and holding power over all the other queers. like this is completely fabricated. you can stop believing that now, it's quite literally made up by trans/rad fems because they do not interact with trans men irl to see that they struggle.

trans men are not oppressed for being men: they're oppressed for being TRANS men. the trans part is what they're being oppressed for. do you not see transmascs and trans men as trans? because if so that is highly disturbing. and don't call that "regular transphobia" because that's not true and you know it isn't trans men and mascs are oppressed... for being TRANS men. seriously. you gotta stop focusing on "men bad" so hard that you literally forget that trans men are trans. back it up. like seriously i'm dead serious. back it up one step. before you focus on the "man" part, think about the "trans" part and how you're basically denying that trans men are trans because you are so wrapped up in radfem hate. TRANS men do not become cis men after they come out. they don't become cis men after transitioning. this, quite literally, is transandrophobia. what you said right there is an example of transandrophobia. sober up, you are not thinking clearly.

the thing is that we do not have male privilege wholesale as a group. that is a lie you have been told. you have to realize most trans men never gain any form of cishet male privilege. some trans men may pass well, but if the word gets out that they're trans, they are no longer respected or viewed as a man at all. especially if you're a man of color. trans men may have an amount of privilege depending on the situation, like being someone's manager, but it is not male privilege in every situation, nor is it anywhere near the privilege that cishet perisex white abled men have.

when we have this type of conversation, we are assuming that all trans men are 100% cis passing who will never be questioned. which happens, but that does not mean those trans men do not struggle. in fact, trans men like that suffer greatly in terms of reproductive care. cis passing trans men are often outright denied reproductive care, and some need that to live. some need to see a gynecologist for a variety of reasons, and being a cis passing man can shoot you in the foot. trans men struggle in health care almost universally. trans men are constantly misgendered in medical settings, and are very often treated as though they are cis women by medical staff no matter what. trans men and mascs are also very commonly assaulted by doctors and other medical professionals

most trans men do not get paid more at their jobs. trans men struggle to get promotions. trans men struggle to get employment in male dominated fields. most trans men still deal with homelessness, sexual assault, physical assault, domestic violence, addiction, misogyny and more. trans men deal with corrective rape. trans men deal with stalking. trans men do not magically have it better in society the second they come out. it creates a whole new host of problems

gaslighting strangers and telling them they're not being abused and oppressed isn't helping anyone. i'm serious. please stop this behavior because you are the one hurting people. care about trans men and mascs. you don't have to throw transmascs and trans men under the bus in order for trans women to be heard. we don't need to be pandered to like this. it's not flattering or helping anyone. you don't need to kiss up to people who literally hate your gender.

i need you to understand that people who talk like this hate transmascs and trans men. they don't like you. they don't care about you. leave those kinds of environments. you're going to regret it if you don't. if you're thinking about your oppression aaalllll day long its all you're ever gonna see and eventually, it's gonna crush you under its weight. be careful. that's dangerous thinking.

[bigskydreaming]

Like I've never and will never be like "no you can't do that" when Bruce fans just flat out don't want to engage with abusive Bruce canon or have depictions of him as abusive inform their views on him as a character. I completely get and support being like "this doesn't spark joy and ruins my enjoyment of a character I love for a lot of other reasons so my views of this character exist independent of these aspects of canon."

I only get itchy when people are like abusive Bruce moments or stories flat out don't exist (or worse, try to downplay/mitigate/abuse apologism their way out of other people seeing those canon elements as THEIR reason for NOT liking Bruce).

You want to read and write Good Dad Bruce Wayne and personally shy away from canon depictions of him as abusive, more power to you, I say. Just don't hop on discourse about abusive Bruce elements/stories and try to argue that people are reading the stories wrong or just don't get Bruce or are engaging with canon and fandom incorrectly. Your own reasons for viewing Bruce the way you do and upholding or adhering to the parts of canon that you view as most essential to him are valid, but the same holds true for others as well.

Many of us don't examine abusive Bruce canon to be a hater, for instance as an abuse survivor, the idea of Bruce being abusive to children that I absolutely do believe he loves is important to me because I think it pushes back against the idea that abusers are inherently monsters, never truly loved their kids, etc. And I think its incredibly important to have stories about a character who IS a hero and does incredible things for other characters and who means a great deal to people both in-universe and out.....but also at the same time has done great harm to children he loves without ever truly being held accountable for that or acknowledging it even to them.

Me, seeing people argue for Good Dad Bruce Wayne as important to them: Fine. Acceptable. Extremely valid, even.

Me, seeing people argue for ONLY Good Dad Bruce Wayne because its important to them and decrying any contrary takes as Peak Haterism: Choke, mayhaps.

[littlemissshifter]

Dreaming and Lucid dreaming are Shifting.

Did that make you mad? Good, now read this till the end.

- Dreams: a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep.

- Lucid dreaming: dreams when you know you're dreaming while you're asleep.

- Shifting: a practice where individuals shift their awareness to alternate realities.

DREAMS

Since our awareness is shifting every second, what happens when we go to sleep? When our awareness stops being aware what happens?

Kids, kids, your awareness stops being aware here when you sleep. What about other realities?

When your conscious self goes to sleep, your subconscious self, which is connected to every reality imaginable what does it to?

It explores.

It explores all the different realities without limitations. Those are dreams. Every dream you've had is a different reality.

You are unaware while dreaming. You can't control these dreams. Why? Because did you think you can control your reality before stumbling upon manifesting or shifting? It's conditioning that is common in most of your dreams because you are conditioned that way, to believe reality cannot be controlled. This is why sometimes you can't differentiate between dreams and reality. Because they're both the same thing, one just happens when you're asleep.

We dream every night. The average is about 4-6 times each night. You shift every night. You remember some, you forget some. For me to explain why we forgot I'd have to make a different post because it'd get very long. For now just use Google.

"But why do my dreams revolve around this reality?" you ask. Because you're dreaming with the beliefs and conditioning of this reality.

If you were born in a magical world and were aware there, then your dreams will revolve around magic.

Shifting happens when you become aware of a different reality, When you've known only a particular reality your whole life, you subconscious only goes to different versions of that really. (I said subconscious because your conscious is asleep)

This is not fixed by the way. Like when you see a movie and you dream about it. When you become aware of a different world, you shift to (dream about) a different world.

Emotions play a important role in dreaming as well. They decide what your dream will be in different ways. Example: When you have a crush, you get a dream of being with them, it was fueled by your emotions of wanting to be with them. That there, is a reality where you are in a happy relationship with your crush.

Dreams are you shifting realities while unaware based on your beliefs, emotions, thoughts and conditioning of this particular reality.

Wait, beliefs, emotions, thoughts and conditioning? That sounds familiar. What else does that make? Oh yeah, your CR.

LUCID DREAMING

Now, since we've got the first topic covered, why can we control some dreams and not the other? People train themselves to lucid dream. It is possible to control all your dreams. When you become aware of the spiritual aspect of things, you get more vivid, lucid dreams because that is you taking control back whether it's a dream or your reality.

You can still lucid dreaming without ever knowing any spiritual aspect of anything. Why? Because shifting is the essence of existence. You shift every second, even sleeping.

You become aware in a dream and control it much like you scripted you can similar to your dr. It's the same.

I know what you're thinking, if they're the same, why does lucid dreaming and shifting feel so different?

Because you're aware of the fact that you're lucid dreaming. Emphasis on the dreaming here. You know you can control it, but you think you're still dreaming. 'Dreaming' for us defines that it's not real when in fact it is. If you changed your awareness to it being an actual reality, congratulations you've shifted with full awareness this time.

HOW DOES SHIFTING RELATE TO THEM

Dreaming and Lucid dreaming are a part of shifting. They are sub categories of shifting.

When you DREAM you're unaware of it being a dream, you think it's happening right now, but your conscious is asleep.

When you LUCID DREAM you're only half aware because you still believe that it's a 'dream' that you control.

When you SHIFT you're fully aware. Your conscious and subconscious are both in focused on one reality in front of you, like in your CR.

Everything you know or don't know is a part of shifting. Shifting is everything. Dreams and Lucid dreaming are not that different after all. They are different experiences yes. But the core of shifting is the same everywhere.

WHAT LEAD TO ME FINDING THIS OUT

I actually knew this for sometime, but it didn't hit me until a few days ago. How much we underestimate the mind in our daily life. Thinking shifting is something that leads us somewhere, when in reality it's us that leads shifting. You're all shifters because you're human. Human nature is shifting itself.

I've experimented in my dreams, becoming lucid and telling my mind to shift me places, to shift me back. Just whatever you can think of. The amount of power we hold in our dreams is the same as we hold in our daily life. Why the difference?

Time isn't real, so is reality. Who's to know except you?

Scientists do not know why we dream. Here is your answer.

This is my belief. My knowledge. My knowing. You don't have to accept this. You can think they're different, not at all related. That I'm just spouting nonsense. But then you are forgetting that we're shifting 24/7 why would that not include everything including dreams?

I'm open to opinions and questions. Please be civil and do not fight regarding this. Do not spread misinformation.

[softness-and-shattering]

I think the OP message is for people who can only conceive of disabled people as burdens who givw nothing. Theyre wrong, but they also need to know they cant leave us behind, and if to reach them that needs to be phrased as "some people will never contribute and still deserve help" then so be it, meet people where they are.

Theyre still wrong. EVERYONE contributes just by being. Because you still interact with people, smile at people, thank people, provide company and companionship and friendship and partnership and perspective and experience. You even Contribute To The Economy by buying things, paying bills and rent, groceries. If all anyone values is the economy youre still contributing to it!

But most of all youre alive and thats what matters. Youre a person who has relationships that changes you and changes the people you know. and you.make things even if you never publish even if youre never famous for it, youre creating things that now exist in the world because of you. Every post you make impacts other people, interests them, makes them snort or laugh or cry or think.

Youre worth *everything* because you are human and you are alive. That worth is inherent, it doesnt need to be earned and cant be lost or taken away. You are worthy. You are valuable. Your presence makes things better for everyone - most of all yourself, but not at all exclusively.

You ran into your limits, and thats difficult and disappointing and worth mourning. And worth seeing what version of your dreams you can reform into something that might be achievable for you now.

Idk some days I feel like Ive whittled my dreams down too small and somedays theyre down to nothing. The big dreams dont go away though, just the achievable steps. Like Im not going to be a published author or well known well selling artist next week, but more days than not I can practise some technique some creativity for a few hours, a few minutes, sometimes not at all but often I can still do *something*. And yeah it hurts, my issue isnt hubris its that my ambition always wants mw to push so much harder than Im capable of and I have to reign it in so I dont overextend and then seriously crash.

However. Its a gazillion times better than giving up on my hopes and dreams entirely, I couldnt live that way at all. I have to something Im dreaming of and working towards even if Im taking tiny little steps while others with similar dreams get a vehicle and theyre stepping on the gas. I hate that I dont get a vehicle but I cant change that. I can only do what I can do, and hold onto feelings of self worth and feeling like myself when I do get to create, and connect with people, and do what makes me feel like me.

I hope this helps. Youre allowed to mourn alternate psths you didnt take or werent able to take. Grief is not only for human death. Its for all kinds of loss.

[hannamoon143]

You drew stars around my scars ✮⋆˙

Life is hard. Some people don't know how to cope with that. Some people just try to feel mentally better by causing physical pain instead. How ironical, isn't it? Oh but bless you, that lee felix is in your life. Because this man never misses a thing.⋆｡°✩

Genre:Angst,Hurt/comfort

Warnings:Sh,a bit childhood trauma, Depression, Crying, mentions of food,mentions of bad eating habits

Lee felix x fem.Reader

Words: 3,9k

a/n: hey everyone<33 To write this fic brought me some comfort too, and it's healing me a bit more everytime i can use my own experiences,emotions and thoughts to write something that comforts others too, and relate to y/n a lot. And i know i'm not the only one, so i hope this can bring everyone that reads it a bit comfort. And pls always remember what of a beautiful person you are. Hurting yourself is never ever the only solution. If you need someone to talk, reach out to someone, anyone, also me if you don't have anyone. I'd rather have literally any person cry for hours in my arms, or vent to me in my dm's than have them hurt their own bodies, that always supports them. Everything felix says in that fic is true, and they r my own thoughts about this. I love you all, take care of yourselves.<3

Depression takes a lot from you. It takes your motivation, productivity, the will to socialize, and your happiness. It’s unfair isn’t it? Little, happy children become tired, broken adults.

People always think depression is something where you sit in your bed the whole day and cry. Well that is half true. Yes, there are days like that, but that’s far not everything. The worst are those dull days, when you feel entirely numb, but your life has to go on anyways. No joy in your heart, and no tears in your eyes. Just a big nothing in your mind.

After a while you figure it out though. It’s always those numb episodes, until every emotion you thought didn’t exist the days before, crashes down on you. And it’s overwhelming. Every.single.time.

But what if you’d find something that could ‚help‘ you? Something that brought you pain and relief at the same time? That made you feel alive, in the numb episodes and distracted you from the pain in the days where you broke down? The price was just your beautiful skin, and blood...

A problem was though, once you’d start, it would be very hard to stop again. But why should you anyways? Why should you stop when it was the only thing seemingly bringing you comfort for some short time?

It started off by you, picking at your skin absimendtly whenever you felt anxious, or when you just didn’t pay attention. It felt relieving. It was the burning pain when you scatched on your skin so hard it was slightly bloody, making you feel like your feelings actually mattered. And then that one night. That night everything crashed down on you. Your friends wanted nothing to do with you anymore, the few you had before, cut contact. You couldn’t even be mad at them. Who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone who constantly cancelled plans, and gave off a „depressing, annoying attitude“? Well these were their words. Oh but you saw it coming. All the overthinking in the middle of the night, those worst case scenarios, they had come true.

And your family? You never had a healthy relationship with them. So now, that you were grown up, the contact was almost entirely dead. And yeah, there was your boyfriend felix, but you’d never burden him with your problems. He already had enough on his mind with the world tour and all the new released albums, of the band he was in.

And that was it. No one there that you could reach out to, no one to comfort you, when your heart and mind were breaking into millions of glass splitters. Every person reaches their breaking point someday. And that day was yours. You remembered the night clearly. You were sitting on the bathroom floor, crying out all the emotion you had been holding in for too long. You had no friends anymore. No family. And pretty sure soon no boyfriend too. Nothing to hold onto.

Then you reached out to a drawer. You didn’t really register what you were doing as you took it out. A simple, silver blade. A little cut on your wrist. A line of crimson red blood on your skin.

At first you were terrified. What had you done? Why weren’t you affected by the stinging pain on your wrist, and the blood building in the small cut? Why did it in fact feel good? And then you decided to try it again, just to answer those questions right?

That’s where it started.

You knew you had depression. But going to a therapist? You were scared, probably too lazy, and you could never tell all your problems to a complete stranger. And most of all you didn’t want felix to worry either. He was the only one left, and soon he would surely leave too. He was the sweetest, sunny person on this earth, he deserved someone that matched his energy, and wasn’t so… hard to love.

Every single task felt like a hard, impossible chore. Getting out of your bed felt like doing the unbelievable. Doing the most simple things like showering, or brushing your teeth seemed so far away, that you could only master them on your best days. Some days, you went to work, did everything you had to, with a straight, stoic face. That was until you came home, laid into your bed, and silent tears would build wet spots on your pillow.

But somedays, even crying seemed too overwhelming. All you could do was lay in your dark room, staring at the wall. It was just the darkness and you, and somewhere in your mind, a voice whispering that it would help to cut...

And then there were these rare days, on which you felt almost too overwhelmed. It were those days you came home, and added another scar to the gallery of them on your arms. You questioned your life on these days. Because truly, you didn’t see a reason why you should be here right now. No, you weren’t proud of it. But who was there to stop you? Why should you quit if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now? When it was only the stinging pain who could make you slip out of the monotone haze in your mind, for at least a little bit time.

But it would be stupid to assume felix didn’t notice something was off. Lee felix was a pure person. Someone who could make even the rainiest days shine bright. And he cared about the people he loved more than anything else.

When you started cancelling plans it was already alarming for him. You were someone who never cancelled plans with him. You were usually a happy person, someone who made jokes that were actually funny. Someone who made him laugh with your little quirks, that he noticed over time. Someone who comforted him when he felt bad. And most of all you were the most excited person when you two would meet up. You never missed to tell him how much you loved him, that he was your happy person, and your comfort person.

That was before

Before suddenly everything stopped. He rarely got to see your beautiful face now anymore. You took a long time to respond to his texts, and when you did, they were short, and dry. This didn’t feel like you. Felix knew you. And that wasn’t you. This wasn’t the happy girl he met. And he surely wasn’t planning on letting things go like this forever. Something wasn’t right. And no matter what you said or did, to try and get away from him, and shut everything out, he would stay by your side. He would find out what was wrong and do everything possible in this world to make you feel like yourself again.

It was another day today. Another number on the calendar. You stopped looking at it. It didn’t matter anyways. Those were just numbers on paper, and they would never change anything. So you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling even heavier than usual. Like a zombie you just quickly got dressed, not even registering what you were wearing, and drank a mug of coffee. It would make you feel a bit more awake for at least a few hours. Eating breakfast had become impossible in the last few weeks. You were barely eating anything the whole day, to be honest. Sometimes, you just couldn’t stand up and make yourself something. But most times, you just didn’t feel hungry.

You went your usual way to work. At the bus, you took a short glance at your phone. You used to be on your phone a lot for the silliest things, but now you hated it. You hated the brightness, and that everytime you looked at it you had to interact with others. And the worst was, it remdinded you of what you had lost. The spark you had in your eyes on photos from a long time ago.

Something popped up on the screen

A message from felix. Of course. He messaged you every single day. You couldn’t ignore him, no matter how shitty felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore him. So you opened it.

Hey sunshine<3How are you today? I thought of maybe grabbing some takeout and watching a movie together tonight, since i have off early! I’ll even let you pick one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much. Love u^^

You sighed. He was still so sweet, so caring, when he should be really annoyed, right? His girlfriend was a walking zombie, why didn’t he already break up with you?

Hey lix, sorry no time today.

Then you quickly put your phone away. You couldn’t stand thinking of his lips turning into that sad pout, when he’d read your answer. But you couldn’t meet him. You didn’t care how stubborn that was, but you wouldn’t let him see you like this. He would see right through you, and get you to tell him what was wrong.

You stopped making excuses someday. Who even cared? Sooner or later he’d leave, just like your friends. No lame excuses would matter then. Someone like you was unlovable. And that would never change.

As felix read your response he sighed.

That was enough. He wouldn’t let your relationship carry on like that. He wouldn’t let you carry on like that. Something was clearly wrong and he wouldn’t stand so far away and watch you slowly shut down from the entire world. Not anymore. Tonight he would come to your apartment, if you wanted to or not.

You didn’t remember what you did throughout the day. When you tried to recall it, there were only hazy memories, covered in a grey, thick fog. You didn’t even remember how you came home. Everything just happened. Now, you were walking through your apartment door, kicking off your shoes and coat. With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You shut the door, immediately sinking down on the floor. You were exhausted. More than that. The past days, or maybe even weeks you had held everything in more than usual. You felt like passing out right then and there, on the cold bathroom tiles. But there was something else. You knew that feeling. When you would have spent too many days in numbness, then at one point, every emotion, everything you thought wasn’t there before, creeps up in your throat from the depths of your soul. You feel the grieve, the sadness, the anger, the guilt, every single emotion crashing down on you at once. And then you can’t stop it anymore.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you pulled your knees up for a bit comfort.

These were the moment you hated the most, besides the numbness. Being numb is uneblievably tiring, but when all the feelings, everything comes up at once, that is even worse. You never knew how to deal with your emotions well. When you were a kid you never got the chance to express emotions. Crying was not allowed. If you did, you’d hear „ Stop it, or i’ll give you a reason to cry.“ If you screamed or hit out of anger you’d get punished in some way. Only a polite smile was, what was allowed to show on the outside, what to show to other people. That was probably part of the reason why you’d grown into a person who had these unhealthy, shitty habits, instead of expressing and coping with their emotions well.

You knew you should just let it pass. Endure these feelings. Maybe text someone to try and distract yourself. But somehow, you always went back to drowning out emotions with physical pain. You took the sharp blade from the bathroom drawer, your hands going unbelievable shaky like they always did when you took it out. You only started to cry more. You hated that you did it. You hated that you were a person that couldn’t handle their own feelings like a responsible adult, and had to shut them out with self harming instead. And still you did it again and again. You hated the way your arm looked when you put your sleeve up now. White lines from old cvts. Slightly reddish ones from some that happened some time ago. And those brightred ones. Reminders of not too long ago. They made you so angry. Reminding you of who you were. Of what you were.

So you decided to look away. You just put the blade to your wrist, looking at the blank bathroom wall. It was already so familiar, you knew where it would hurt the most without even looking.

Felix was searching around his apartment for that gray hoodie you wanted to have everytime you saw him wearing it. Maybe it would cheer you a bit up. As he finally found it, he grabbed the brownies he had made for you earlier, and his keys, heading out his apartment, to head to yours instead.

He started his car. It was a short drive so there was not much time for thinking. But there were some thoughts in the back of his head. Wasn’t he overstepping? You clearly didn’t want to see him, maybe you were also just annoyed?

But felix shook those voices off. He knew you. He had known you for years, and this wasn’t you. He had to do this.

And then he was already at your apartment. Slowly he got out of the car, taking the things, and started to walk up the stairs.

Soon he was in front of your door. Should he knock? He knew where your spare key was but he didn’t want to be respectless. So he softly knocked on the door.

„Y/n? It’s me, felix. I know you didn’t want to meet, but… i was worried. Can we talk please, my love?“

He waited for a minute. But there was no answer. Maybe you really weren’t at home? He decided to just try it. To his surprises the door was unlocked. That meant you were home, but also why would you let your door stay unlocked? He sighed, and locked it from the inside. He quietly took off his shoes, and put them on the side. Yours were scattered messily on the floor, and your coat too. Usually you hated when something in your apartment wasn’t organized. Maybe you were in a hurry before. He went into the kitchen, wich was dark, putting the brownies on the counter. „Y/n?“ he softly called out again. Still no answer.

But there, suddenly he heard something. A quiet, mumbling or...crying? His brows furrowed and he tried to follow the sound. There. In the bathroom. It seemed like you didn’t hear him calling you. At first he considered just going back to your kitchen and waiting there for you to come out, but when he heard another deep sob from you, he knew what to do. Whatever was going on right now, he wanted to be by your side. So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

„Y/N, what is g-“ His eyes widened in shock, and your head perked up immediately at the door clicking open, your gaze changing from surprise, to confusion, to somewhat realization and guilt. The sight in front of him horrified him. His beautiful, lovely girlfriend sat on the bathroom floor, her face red and puffy from crying, and a sharp blade in her hand. And your arm… How couldn’t he notice? He just stood there, in the door, staring at you.

You couldn’t read his face. Was he mad…? Of course he’d be mad. You quickly reacted as you got to your senses again. You jumped up, letting the blade fall, and a drop of blood dropping down on your white bathroom tiles.

„Felix…. I can explain, i h-haven’t, it’s not what it looks like o-okay? I’m okay, p-please i know you’re mad but-“

You got cut off. You couldnt’t even say anything more, because suddenly you were wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s comforting, warm embrace. You forgot how good a hug from him felt… And when you got a little glance at his face that was it. No anger, no twisted kind of any emotion against you. There was pure sympathy and love. When you also saw a tear rolling down his face, you couldn’t take it anymore. You buried your face in his neck, and let go. You sobbed uncontrollably, your arms and legs trembling so much, to the point your knees gave in, and felix slowly sank to the ground with you. Why did the cvts on your arms suddenly really hurt for the first time? He had you pulled on his lap, rocking you back and forth, stroking your hair gently. „Shhh, it’ll be alright. I’m here now, you are not alone.“

Good thirty minutes later, your sobbing had stopped, and only warm paths of tears remained on your cheeks. Felix lifted your head from his neck a bit, so he could look into your eyes. Though you had just cried your heart out, it was still the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he had seen in his life. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

„Let me treat those, okay?“ He simply said, glancing at your cuts.

He was gentle. He desinfected every single cut, apologizing every time you hissed at the sharp pain. Then he put some healing ointment on your fresh ones, and some at your older ones too. Then, with gentle, calm hands he bandaged your arms. He ended his treament with featherlight kisses on them. Then he got up, helping you up too. He had his hands on your side, his eyes on your face.

„Love…I won’t ever judge you, or get mad at you for anything, i hope you know that okay? I know that this is probably your way to cope with things, and i know that you know it’s not healthy. But it’s okay. Please just promise me, you will come to me instead of doing that, from now on hm? Everytime you want to do it you call me, text me, whatever. I’d rather have you crying in my arms for hours, venting to me for hours, you screaming at me, or do whatever you need to, than have you hurt and bleeding entirely alone on the floor. I’ll come over, and do whatever i need to, to cheer you up alright? And don’t shut me out from your life. I want to be a part again. I miss the way you’d text me when you see something that makes you smile. Or when you send me pics of the cute cats you saw on the sidewalk. Or when you just simply tell me about your day. And most important of all, i’ll stay by your side okay? No matter what. I will do everything to help you recover, and build up your life in a way that makes you happy okay? Let me help you sunshine. You don’t need to do it all alone.No matter how hard it in the past was, I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving soon.“

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time you smiled at him. „Okay lixie. Okay. I’ll try.“

Then he softly smiled at you, and guided you to your livingroom, where he made you sit on the couch. He rushed off to the kitchen, and was soon back again with a plate of brownies and his gray hoodie. „It seems like you didn’t eat much lately, you’ve been getting a bit too skinny, love. But don’t worry, now i’m here to feed you with everything you want to eat. You don’t need to move a single finger.“ He mumbled, as he first handed you the hoodie, wich you put on immediately and snuggled into it. It had always been your comfort hoodie, since it was big, fluffy, and always smelled like him a lot. Then he put down the plate in front of you. Felix’ brownies had always been one of your favorite things. They were delicious like no one else’s.Everytime you asked him what he was throwing in there, he always told you that it was his love and care wich he made them with. You believed him, this man made everything better with his sunny personality.

You simply smiled at him, and took one of the brownies, taking a big bite

„That’s my girl.“ He chuckled, ruffling your hair. As you were munching, and he was watching you with a fond smile, he suddenly asked „Do you have a marker somewhere here?“ You looked up, raising a brow. „Yeah, in the drawer over there i guess, why?“ He just stood up, and opened said drawer, taking the marker. He was back by your side in an instant. „Please give me one arm love“ He said, politely like always. You were still pretty confused but how could you say no to that? So you slowly laid your bandaged arm in his hands. He kissed it once and then softly started to draw on it. „What are you doing?“ you asked, mouth full of brownie.

„Those my love, are battle scars. It isn’t beautiful how you got them, but they are a part of you now, and they make you the person you are. They deserve to be called beautiful now too, like every single body part of yours. I love every part of you. And when they are healed, I’ll kiss each and everyone of them, but for now, they deserve to be treated with care. They will only heal properly, if you let them. If you’d always be angry when you’d look at them, they would never really heal. You would never really heal. You need to forgive yourself, and someday you will be able to move on. They show how far you’ve come, that it was very hard, but you never gave up. Battle scars, my love.“

You looked into his eyes. He said all that so sincere, you believed every word. And then as he was done you saw what he did. A lot of little stars, and a pretty moon in the middle were drawn on the bandages. And next to the moon he wrote a little note

„Because i want you to never forget who you are. You are Y/n L/n, a fighter, and the most beautiful woman i know.“

„How did i deserve you lee felix?“ You murmured in awe.

„You deserve the world, and more my love.“

And that really was a turning point. Thanks to felix, your days weren’t dull anymore. He was always there with you, laughing and talking a lot, but he also respected when you wanted some alone time. And when you came to him somedays, crying and telling him that you wanted to do it again, he took you in his arms, wrapped you both into a blanket and rocked you back and forth, until no tears were left anymore, and the world seemed a bit brighter again. Then he mumbled soothing reassurances into your hair, kissing you on the forehead.

And like this, you were willing to try. You were willing to try and recover, and create a life that you loved living, with him in it.

a/n: now a note to: @athenawindwolf because I didn't have the courage to say it that night ( we ignore that i'm writing this while you are texting me,still in that night), i'll be your chan friend, and in the context of this fanfic your felix friend, whenever you need me. I hope yk, I never judge anyone, and i've been through a lot too so rlly i would never ever judge or tell anyone if you tell me smth. We said we r the big sisters of our friends now, so that means we r sisters right? Come to me whenever you need to talk. Now this was for u, and I also have to say i'm thankful someone is sharing one of my interests now<3 Ily di angelo.@athenawindwolf (and i hope i didn't make you cry with this fic)