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#live ur life
thedeafprophet · 1 year
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Honestly I don't find it annoying when people are like "sorry for being cringe" because I know for fact that the whole thing originates from online communities of harrasment. 'Cringe culture is dead' is important but it's also unfortunately not true, people are still actively targeted for the things they like.
I wish everyone a very enjoy the things you like. Make ur ships. Make ur ocs. Make the fanfiction with a silly premise, with any level of writing skill.
We're on this bitch of an earth for a short time, and people who go around saying something is 'cringe' or harassing for having headcanons and ships or whatever are the saddest people around
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starmanbyler · 3 months
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happy valentines day ig
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janeelyakiri · 1 year
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I just want you to know your blog helped me really put away doubts I was Fictosexual/Fictoromantic
Sometimes others like to say their opinions on YOUR sexuality a bit too loudly and far too often and you wind up questioning yourself (not fun)
Just wanted to let you know your blog is basically pretty much one of my few safe places and I wanted to thank you for it 🖤🖤🖤🖤
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sleepy-shutin · 2 years
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i keep seeing people getting mad about The Singlets using apps like simply plural for things like oc pages and shit. but like. it’s not like there’s a limited number of people who can download an app, and more people using it is actually beneficial because it makes the app more popular, and helps normalize having apps like that in general. similarly with plural kit even when the creators of it said it’s fine for roleplayers to use it too. like i really don’t care as long as they recognize it’s primarily a resource for systems and don’t expect the creators to cater specifically to the needs of roleplayers and writers. which, if they know about it to begin with, they’re probably aware that it’s for systems. i just don’t get why people are acting like systems will literally die if singlets use resources like that lmao.
dont understand why people get mad like this... its not like an app is a finite resource and we will die if other people use it for a purpose it is not originally intended for. tupperbox and pluralkit are used for roleplay. some friends use it for age regression and its fine.
personally dont see what people might get out of using SP for roleplay or writing *because* its made for systems but i really do not see the harm. they are not using a finite resource and the app will still be there for everyone else too.
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Is it weird to return an attack from the previous year? I was so unprepared for how many attacks I got in 2021 and I wasn't able to revenge all of them by the end of the month. My entire first week of this year is dedicated to returning those, even though it won't technically be a revenge, but I'm not sure if thats weird or not
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familyvideostevie · 1 year
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I'm pegging anon #3, and I confessed a very long time ago, do a feel ashamed? I little bit to be honest, but do I still want that to happen? ABSOLUTELY, Just by the thought of pegging steve makes me go FERAL
no baby you gotta own it
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Is it bad that I wanna fuck Airy-
Twilight Anon
no 😌
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honeysbunchesofoats · 29 days
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why am I so fucking funny. no one appreciates me 😔
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amaribelt · 3 months
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my aunt also has no friends so when she needs dating advice and she’s currently asking for advice for nipple jewelry and how to get a boyfriend she comes to me
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colorful-otaku · 5 months
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We live in a world where I could use chat as a pronoun and no one can stop me. This is good. This is beautiful.
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wolfgirlemma · 10 months
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You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth.”
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knifearo · 5 months
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being aromantic is like. hey btw you're going to live a life that is the culmination of most of society's worst nightmares. sorry lol ✌️ but then you turn around and take a really good hard look at it and it turns out that living in that nightmare is fucking awesome and you get to wake up every day and take that fear that other people have and laugh and hold it close until it's a great joy for you instead. and being happy is a radical act that you define instead of someone else. and you're sexy as fuck that's just a fact of life i don't make the rules on that one
#aromantic people are just sexy i'm not making the decisions here it's just facts#course ur hot as fuck. it came free with the aromanticism#being sexy is just default settings for aromantic people 👍#hope this all helps. anyway i'm on my 'i hope i die alone <3 i can't wait to die alone <3' kick rn#i think the existential fear that people have of Not Partnering specifically is so. well.#obviously that shit is strong and it is SO awesome to be free of it.#realizing you're aro and you don't Want a partner can be such a hit to the solar plexus#cause society says that's the only thing that'll make you happy. so either you go without that thing or you force yourself#into doing something you don't want which would make you unhappy anyway.#so you think it's a lose lose situation and you have to come to terms with what amatonormativity presents as the worst possible situation#but then! whoa! turns out personhood is inherently valuable in and of itself and romantic partnering is just a construct!#and that nightmare is now your life to do with as you please... define as you will... structure as you want...#best case scenario. is what i'm saying.#every day i wake up ready to spit all that amatonormative rhetoric back in life's teeth by being alone and being happy#and it's so fucking satisfying. every day.#fucking JUBILANT being by myself. and i love being a living breathing 'fuck you' to the romantic system#you need a partner to be happy? oh that's sooo fucking crazy guess i'll go be miserable then. in my perfect fucking dream life lmao#yeah obviously it's the worst possible outcome on earth to die without a partner. so terrible. can't wait for it :)#aromantic#aromanticism#aro positivity#aroace#arospec#sorry to bitches who are sad about not having a partner. i could not give a fuck though get better soon#you couldn't EVER pay me enough to go back to a mindset in which my inherent value wasn't enough by myself.#FUCK that shit. absolutely miserable and a bad life outlook in general. like genuinely do the work w/ amatonormativity and get better#life is something that can be so fulfilling whether someone wants to kiss you or whatever or not#i'm on antidepressants and i have people i care deeply about. what the fuck would i need a partner for lmao
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luxaofhesperides · 3 months
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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!
For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.
It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.
But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 
His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 
He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.
And then it went nearly colorless. 
Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 
Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 
Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.
A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 
“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 
Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 
“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.
The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 
Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 
“Morning,” Duke offers.
“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”
“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”
Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”
“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”
Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”
“I’ll drive, too.”
“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”
Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”
“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”
“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”
Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”
Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 
The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 
The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 
Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 
“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”
“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”
“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”
The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 
“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 
It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.
Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  
He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 
He gets the Vietnamese Plate.
Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 
The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 
Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”
“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”
As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”
She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 
Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 
Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.
But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.
The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 
She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 
As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 
“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”
“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”
“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 
He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 
As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 
Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”
“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 
“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”
“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”
“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.
Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 
Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 
“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.
Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”
“Oh, yikes.”
“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”
“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.
He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 
“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”
Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”
“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”
“What does this do?”
“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”
“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 
Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”
She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 
By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.
Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.
“Duke?”
It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 
It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 
This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 
He won’t let anyone take it from him. 
“Duke. Give that to me.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 
“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 
Bruce reaches a hand out. 
He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 
“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.
“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”
“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”
Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.
Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.
Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 
The orb in his hand moves. 
Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.
It’s his soulmark. 
Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 
One moment, the orb was still.
The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 
Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 
“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 
“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 
“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.
“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 
“Are you alright?”
Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”
Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 
If anyone can, it’s Batman. 
If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 
Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.
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inkskinned · 9 months
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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
#i used to think it was romantic too and then i was like. now i see it as a HUGE red flag#writeblr#it is also almost EXCLUSIVELY said by immature ppl who think this is normal#fyi even if u think it's funny and ur like 'im an introvert it's just TRUE' like. you need therapy (ily tho)#healed introversion is just ''i would prefer to be by myself'' not ''i hate every person'' ... hate is not normal. that is not healthy#im sorry. i know it feels accurate. but if you're walking around with that kind of rage....#1. you're making a LOT of assumptions about every single person u have ever met. which is often unfair and unkind#and also usually involves judging people based on their worst moments or little mistakes#2. you are being unfair to the person who is ur ''exception''#3. there is a VAST difference between ''ur my favorite person'' and ''the ONLY person i like.''#idk i think this is just a personal bias thing tbh#im sure there are people who have this experience normally#but i have YET to find a man who thinks like this and ISNT absolute DOGSHIT. although tbh.... like. im sure he exists#when u hit like 30 some of the things that were once kind of hot now just sound fucking exhausting. like ''im in a band''#edit in the tags: i used to kind of be like this too. but the thing is that like. my life became so much more peaceful#once i started believing that people are generally good. like yes i am mad at the world at large#but it's just.... a very hard way to live. you're not a bad person or wrong for the ways other people hurt you and taught you to be angry.#but that anger will continue to hurt YOU. it will punish YOU. it will prevent YOU from making new deep connections. it will protect you yes#but it will also cause MASSIVE blowback. bc if you lose the One Person... your life will fall apart. i know this personally.#i really recommend just trying to be... cautiously optimistic instead. like. yes#people can be horrible and cruel and there are some communities (incels for example) that aren't worth that optimism#but i think like... most people will hold a door for you . most people want to help you find your wallet .#i hope one day you are able to find peace. i hope that rage eventually smooths over. i know how hard it is PERSONALLY#and i know what must have happened to you. and im deeply deeply sorry we share the same wound.#but i promise - sometimes we all need someone else to help us carry the weight. eventually the rage has to die so that we can let help in#i had to spend years biting at outstretched hands. i still often do. im still very wary . and my heart breaks that you flinch too.#here's the thing: i don't blame you. but we were both acting out of fear and pain. .... not out of healthy behavior. and ... change#was needed. i needed change too. rage was useful for a while. then it just left me isolated and bitter. i had to (with effort)#choose to let that rage go. and let people in . VERY SLOWLY THO LOL
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I’m gonna draw art in advance and nobody can stop me.
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yyuuraii · 6 months
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what is. going on
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