#compassion without understanding is not compassion

[echo-exco]

❝DID YOU GET ENOUGH LOVE, MY LITTLE DOVE, WHY DO YOU CRY?❞

୨⎯ ┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱

✰ ৎ──────SYPNOPSIS: all you ever wanted was a purpose. something that would give meaning to your existence, your power. healing others was the only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed… until you ended up in that awful place.

or… in which some decisions end in an unfortunate tragedy for some.

✰ ৎ────── masterlist. | prev. | next.

What’s so important about your power?

The question returns, as it always does, in the quiet moments. When no one is watching. When there’s no blood, no patients, no bodies to heal.

When there’s no excuse to exist.

Why do you do it? Why can’t you just stop?

It was never just about healing. It’s never been only that.

It’s… the only thing that gives you meaning.

You didn’t like hurting yourself, though you do. You didn’t enjoy the pain of others, though you feel it. You never wanted to die stitching together lives that weren’t your own, though you know that’s exactly what will happen if no one stops you.

It’s just that you don’t know how to live without it.

Every time someone bleeds and you can’t intervene, something curls inside you. Like you’re a broken doll, incomplete, incapable of fulfilling the one thing you were made to do.

Every time someone breaks and you don’t stitch them back together, a piece of you splinters too.

Your power became something greater than a skill.

It’s your compass. Your purpose, your voice.

When Masashi told you that you were special, that no one else could do what you could, you believed him.

How could you not? He let you heal. He let you treat patient after patient. He let you use your power. He looked at you with a warm smile when you were exhausted, bleeding, shaking… and told you that you’d done well.

He’s proud of you. He never asked if you were okay. Only if the patient had survived.

And over time, you learned to ignore yourself too.

When a bone breaks, you fix it. When an organ fails, you rebuild it. Even if it shatters you inside.

You know you can endure it.

You have to.

Bruce wouldn’t understand.

Your father would never accept it.

Would he be the first to stand against the only reason you have to live?

What’s the worth of a power if you can’t use it?

You never asked the question aloud. You didn’t have to, you already knew the answer. You’d felt it in your fingers, numbed by thread. In your nails, bloodied from stitching too hard. In the needle that no longer hurt when you drove it into your own arm just to practice, just so you wouldn’t forget what it felt like.

Just so you wouldn’t grow rusty.

Just so you could still be useful.

This power is yours. You had accepted it as such. It wasn’t a gift, and it wasn’t a curse. This power is a responsibility.

If you had it, then you had to use it. If you used it, then you could save. And if you could save lives… then maybe you weren’t a bad person.

That’s what you thought.

You weren’t a good person.

You’re not like them. You’ll never be like the heroes. They shine. They reach people’s hearts. Heroes lift buildings with a smile, capes fluttering in the wind, saying things that make people feel safe.

But you couldn’t do that.

You know perfectly well you don’t speak kindly to your patients. You sound irritated, frustrated, because you are. Why would you be happy treating injured people? You hated seeing the pain on their faces, but you loved the joy when you saved them.

You didn’t know how to comfort people. You only knew how to stitch torn flesh, mend shattered bones, repair punctured organs. You only knew how to drive a needle deep into their bodies and keep threading until their bodies stopped begging to die.

It was that… or nothing.

And now you were in Gotham.

The city that either rejects or embraces everything rotten in the world. Everything that could ever be like you.

Mutants, metas, people with abnormalities. Gotham didn’t want them. It didn’t need that kind of trouble. Ironically, though, the city also seemed to be a magnet for exactly those kinds of people.

Your father, Bruce, is the symbol of that, at least his alter ego is. Batman was the unspoken law. The silent rule that dictated: if you were born different, you were a potential threat to the city. To his city. Even if you wanted to help, even if you had never hurt anyone.

Because people born like you always ended up being a problem for the city and for the innocent. Everyone had to be investigated before being treated like a person.

You aren’t trusted.

Thankfully, Bruce hasn’t figured it out yet. No one in your family has.

You feel proud of having successfully fooled an entire family of heroes and detectives.

Then again, Masashi likely intervened in every document related to your existence, carefully crafting your life before Gotham to avoid suspicion.

That was… a rather helpful gesture on his part. You’re not surprised Masashi was so meticulous with your whereabouts. What genuinely does surprise you is that he didn’t warn you in advance about everything that was going to happen.

His silence is suspicious. Masashi has never left you alone for this long. He was always too clingy, too eager to spend every second by your side.

But then again, considering the kind of people your family is made of, it wouldn’t be surprising if Masashi took overly cautious, even surgical steps before finding a way into Gotham.

You can’t blame him. You’re scared of your own family too.

Every time Bruce walks past you… Every time one of your brothers talks about missions, villains, or justice… You shrink a little more inside. Like your very existence is a betrayal waiting to be exposed.

Because you know that once they find out what you really are, they won’t look at you the same way anymore. They won’t look at you like you’re something normal, like you’re something human.

You haven’t used your power.

You can’t use it.

You’re scared.

You’re terrified of all of them.

Is this really the right thing to do? Doubt fills you. You’re afraid… What do you want right now? There are no injured people in this mansion. No patients to treat.

Only you.

Running away like a coward, too afraid to face the consequences of your actions. With the truth of your existence pressing down on your shoulders.

Why did you want Bruce to look at you with the same approval Masashi always gave you?

You were alone again. The only company you had was the trembling in your fingers as you wondered how quickly you'd forget everything you’d learned.

What was the point of being alive if you couldn’t save anyone?

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t dare say anything at all.

Because in the end, the only thing separating you from being a burden, the only thing that helped you believe you weren’t useless, the only thing that let you think you weren’t a bad person, that maybe, just maybe, you could really save someone’s life—

…was your power.

You loved your power. You adored it like nothing else in the world. Your power went far beyond any feeling of ego or control—over others or even yourself.

You loved your power because you knew that saving someone was the right thing to do.

The right thing, even if it hurt.

The right thing, even if you bled.

The right thing, even if it tore you apart.

Masashi always understood that. He was the one who helped you stop hating your power. He helped you stop questioning your existence, gave you a purpose, something to keep fighting for.

He never told you to stop.

He never scolded you for using it.

He was never horrified when you trembled with fever after healing over thirteen critically injured patients in a single night.

He just said: “Good job. You’re really… good at this, aren’t you?”

You believed him.

You were enough, for him.

Now you were here, in Gotham. A city where “goodness” was far more complicated than it pretended to be. You understand why a hero would stop you if they saw what you were doing.

You know they wouldn’t hurt you… And that was even more terrifying than being punished.

Because you understand that not hurting you would mean forbidding you. It would be the same as telling you that you can’t help anymore.

That you can’t save anyone.

That maybe… things would be better that way.

But you know that isn’t possible. If you stopped using your power, if you stopped healing, then who would you even be?

Who are you without your power?

Would you become that same dying girl with no last name again? Or would you turn into the greatest failure your father could have ever imagined?

No one.

You’d be no one.

Just a useless child, living in a massive house, waiting for something, or someone, to break, just so your existence could be justified.

At first, you thought maybe, just maybe, your father could understand. That foolish hope shattered the moment you found out Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Batman doesn’t trust what he can’t control.

You discovered his identity by accident. And with it, you discovered your sentence.

He wouldn’t allow what you do. You doubt Bruce would go as far as to believe a child is inherently evil… But you know it’s his job to stop things like you, and you don’t want to be stopped.

You can’t be stopped.

Because if you abandon everything that makes you who you are, then all that’s left is the worst version of you.

A broken child, a lie inside Wayne Manor, a horrible lie to this poor family, a metahuman hidden among orphaned children who fight crime wearing masks.

Damian already told you, and he’s right.

In this house, you’ll only ever be known as a burden.

You theorize that Bruce thinks he’s protecting you by keeping you on the sidelines. That he genuinely believes offering you a bed, food, a family close enough to see but distant enough to ignore, is enough to keep you safe.

Unfortunately for Bruce, he doesn’t know that it’s not enough. It never has been.

You can survive without all that.

What you need is something else. You need to save someone. To make your pain worth something. To see your power move. To watch the thread pass through flesh, in and out of their bodies.

You need this pain to be worth something.

If Bruce knew… he’d take it away. He’d lock you up, he’d isolate you. Maybe even hand you over, maybe because he secretly hated you for being a liar or maybe because he truly believed that separating you from your power was the healthiest thing he could do for you.

Unlike Masashi, Bruce would never accept that you needed to survive through your power.

Masashi at least knows. He knows that you’re already broken.

And still, he let you save lives.

This life is so painfully strange and complicated. You hope you’ve done the right thing, even as the doubts grow more unbearable with time.

You just hope… You’ll be able to leave this place at the right moment.

Masashi would never consider himself a ruthless man.

No, not at all.

He considers himself a just man.

Someone who does what must be done. Someone who doesn’t reject his true nature, who doesn’t waste time clinging to moral illusions about what’s right or wrong.

Masashi simply adapts. He takes advantage of every opportunity life gives him, molding the pieces as they best serve his cause.

That’s perfectly normal, for everyone. The only difference lies in whether you choose to accept it or live in ignorance while chasing vague moral ideals of what “good” means in this world.

To Masashi, you were one of those pieces.

If not the best one he’s ever obtained, ironically, even he didn’t realize that at first.

Meeting you was a blessing.

One he didn’t recognize until much later. Until the second time he saw you.

Masashi still remembers the first day he laid eyes on you.

Killing your mother was necessary.

It was even… fun.

That woman was foolish enough to think she could leave him. As if walking away would be enough to disappear without a trace. As if a traitor could ever hide from consequences.

Masashi always found a way to reclaim what he considered his.

Muchitsujo Seika.

A distinguished, highly respected woman, meticulous, brilliant in the field of medicine. She could have become a leading figure in Japan.

Seika could have been remembered for years to come, for her work, her pure effort.

But she made one critical mistake: She crossed a clear line. She dared to think her life belonged to her.

There’s no need to talk much about Seika. She was capable, talented, even brilliant.

But also naive.

She knew exactly who she was getting involved with. She knew she couldn’t leave without consequences. And yet she tried. Even knowing the risk. She actually believed she could hide a child from him.

Seika thought she could protect you from him.

The media didn’t say much.

They couldn’t. Masashi made sure of that.

Seika had been a well-known doctor in certain circles. Quiet, brilliant, with a spotless career and an unshakable reputation. Her sudden disappearance was, of course, an anomaly.

But Masashi filled in the blanks with an elegant and functional narrative: That Seika had chosen to leave medicine after an unexpected pregnancy and raise her daughter alone in a quiet place, away from the public eye. A reserved woman making a personal choice. Nothing more.

There was no body. There was no funeral.

Only an absence far too convenient.

It was the story he himself planted. The story you’d one day be told, whispered in a soft voice, with the rehearsed sorrow of someone who says, “I was too late.” A lie, carefully crafted, precisely manipulated by his own hand.

“Seika left to raise her daughter. Then… she vanished. Some say she was murdered. No one knows for certain what happened to her.”

All lies.

Masashi remembers the truth.

He remembers every second.

He remembers the blood. The spasms. The way Seika dragged herself across the freezing floor, dripping life, trying to reach the little creature she’d just brought into the world.

Just a few steps.

Never enough.

He remembers Seika on the hospital floor. The cold lights. The dull sound of her body collapsing against the tile.

It was a grotesque, desperate spectacle…

And at the same time, profoundly beautiful.

The terror in her face. The trembling in her hands. The pain in her eyes.

All of it was worth more than any apology she could’ve offered.

"You don’t have to do this… you don’t have to do this to her…” She whispered, barely a murmur, as blood poured down her coat.

“Of course I don’t.” He replied, voice gentle.

“But I want to.”

All she tried to do was reach the baby.

It was useless. Pathetic, even. The desperate effort of a mother who hadn’t yet realized she was already dead.

Masashi didn’t feel hatred. Just a flicker of irritation, like a tool breaking before it finished its task.

Still, even Masashi knew there was nothing interesting about caring for an infant.

A baby was useless. All it did was cry. The thought alone was tedious.

Who was supposed to take care of you? Him?

Ridiculous.

Then everything went quiet.

It was Charlotte who spoke next.

“The baby… are you going to get rid of her too?”

He looked at her without much interest.

“Why bother? She’s worthless. She’ll probably die with her mother. Wouldn’t that be lovely for them both?”

Charlotte lowered her gaze, calm.

“And yet… she could become useful. In time. You said the mother had potential. Maybe the daughter does too.”

Masashi didn’t answer right away.

“You’re suggesting I let her live?”

“I’m suggesting that if there’s no reason to kill her, letting her live isn’t a loss. If she dies on her own, time will have solved the matter for us. But if she survives… she might be worth something.”

He let out a soft laugh, thoroughly delighted by the idea Charlotte had offered. Masashi simply reached out and patted her head, like a master praising his dog.

“Good work. I really have taught you well.”

Masashi granted you the benefit of the doubt.

The decision was made. A decision based on logic. On a remote possibility, and the mild pleasure of watching what the future might bring.

There wasn’t much hope for you. You were just a tiny thing, so fragile, you barely counted as real.

Masashi didn’t believe you were special.

But like any other experiment, you had to be tested.

You were thrown into the nameless misery of Japan’s outskirts the moment you were born.

Brothels. Damp streets. Alleys where the sky didn’t seem to exist.

Seeing if you survived was the only curiosity in his mind.

If you did… maybe.

If not, who would mourn you?

If you couldn’t survive something that simple, then it was impossible for Masashi to imagine you'd be worth anything later.

Because it wasn’t as if someone would come for you, claim you, or protect you from the cruelties of the world at such a young age.

Years later, Masashi found you again. He hadn’t looked for you. Hadn’t even thought of you all those years. His expectations were minimal, if not nonexistent.

It was a coincidence, a twist of chance, but sometimes, fate arranges its pieces with terrifying precision.

The girl he saw wasn’t a living creature. She was an empty shell, dead eyes, the perfect mirror of her mother, without her fire. A walking corpse.

You were injured… and healing yourself.

The power surprised him. Not just the fact that it existed, but its rarity.

“Healing?” Masashi murmured, watching from a distance.

He crouched in front of you, studying the scene without intervening. Thin, almost transparent and luminous threads pierced your own flesh at inhuman speed. Needles, impossible to ignore, yet you didn’t cry. You didn’t even tremble.

You simply worked. As if that was the only thing you’d ever been taught to do.

“How interesting…” Masashi remembers how you looked at him.

Wordless. As if unsure whether you should fear him, or thank him. It no longer mattered. Because he had already decided.

That strange, broken, useful creature, would belong to him.

It wasn’t an act of love. It wasn’t vengeance. Because if he couldn’t keep Seika, then he would take what she left behind. As he should have from the beginning.

The daughter would suffice. You would be enough.

This time, Masashi would shape you from the start.

“You’re going to stay with me.” He said with a bright smile, stroking your head with something that resembled tenderness, but couldn’t possibly be called that.

“I’ll teach you not to waste what you are.”

You didn’t respond. You simply blinked, slowly.

You were empty. No mother. No father figures. No relatives to run to. No identity. No functioning emotional framework.

All that was left was that absurd need to serve, to heal, to do something useful with a body no one had asked to be born into.

Perfect.

Masashi would be more than happy to fill every corner of your being.

You didn’t have to ask for guidance.

He gave it to you.

You didn’t have to cry for your mother.

He told you he arrived too late. That there was nothing he could do. That he believed you had died along with her.

A convenient story.

He wasn’t trying to inspire pity. He simply needed to keep you calm.

Masashi found it almost moving.

You—a child with no trace of anger, no ambition, no drive.

You were just waiting for someone to tell you who you were.

And he did.

He told you pain must have a purpose. That you were only valuable if you could heal. That being good meant being useful, nothing more. That you could save the innocent with the gift you’d been given.

You believed him. You accepted it, desperately.

Because you had never known anything else.

You were far too lost back then to even consider searching for something more.

You just wanted to save lives.

At least that way, you wouldn’t be a bad person.

The room was dim, lit only by the warm lamp beside the bed and the pale glow of the moon slipping through the curtains. Seika had settled onto the futon with effort, cradling her belly in her arms as if holding something fragile, precious, irreplaceable.

She couldn’t sleep.

Lately, Seika rarely managed to.

This time, it wasn’t because of the sharp aches in her back or the accumulated exhaustion from the past few weeks, with the worrying surge of patients suffering from deadly diseases and injuries.

This time, it was something softer. Sweeter.

Something inside her was begging, pleading, not to let the night pass without saying something.

So she gave in to the whim of speaking to her daughter.

“You know… I’ve been thinking about you all day.” She murmured, gently caressing the soft curve of her abdomen. “I wondered if you’ll like the rain. It calms me... but you move around a lot when it rains. Does that mean you don’t like it? Or does it excite you?���

She smiled. A slow, tired smile, but a real one.

“I don’t know what color your eyes will be. That makes me laugh a little. I’d like them to be like mine, though… if you end up looking like him, I think I’ll still love you just as much.” She chuckled at her own illogical thought.

“Silly, right? As if I could stop loving you over a few genes.”

Seika paused. She closed her eyes for a moment. The silence was thick, all-encompassing. Outside, the wind shook the branches of the tree in the yard.

“I want to give you a peaceful life. A life of school, snacks, books… a slow childhood, like the ones you don’t see much anymore. Far from harm and problems no child should ever face. But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if the world will let us.”

Her voice dropped, barely a whisper.

“I don’t know if he will let us.”

There it was... the name she didn’t dare say out loud.

Masashi.

Her worst mistake, her crime.

But Seika wasn’t going to think about that now. Not about that man. Not tonight. She couldn’t.

“No, no. Not tonight, little one.” She sighed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Tonight, I just want to imagine you happy. Walking through a park. Laughing with your mouth wide open, without fear. Breaking things by accident. Dreaming big dreams, the kind that sound impossible when you say them out loud.”

Her voice trembled.

“I want you to know that I wanted you. I waited for you. I worried. I protected you. As much as I could, I protected you.”

She brought her hands to the center of her belly and pressed gently, as if trying to draw that invisible bond between them even closer.

“I don’t know if I’ll be there to watch you grow. And even if I am… maybe not in the way I’d like.”

She swallowed hard.

“But I want you to know this: I love you already. I love you unconditionally. Without knowing you. I love you with a part of me I never used before.”

She lay down fully, slowly, exhaling as if the weight of the world had become a little easier to bear.

“I’ll name you with care.” She whispered. “I’ll give you something beautiful, something strong. A name that protects you when I’m not there, a name that feels like home. Not a weapon, not a curse… just a real name.”

A tear slid down her cheek, quiet.

“I want to give you everything I never had. I want you to never feel alone.”

She caressed her belly one last time, as the soft movements of the baby answered her touch, as if truly listening.

“If the world ever hurts you, I want you to know your mother loved you before you were born. That she talked to you every night. That she laughed to herself thinking about your imagined quirks. That she dreamed of your tiny hands, your voice, your face full of questions.”

Then, with a gentle sigh, she closed her eyes.

“Tonight, tonight and for all my life… I just want to love you.”

“I promise I’ll be a good mother… I only wish you’ll come into this world safely and live happily… without worries…” Seika hummed a familiar melody. A lullaby, perfect for practicing, for when you finally arrive into the world, into her life.

“I’ll love you for all eternity, little one… I already love you, and I always will.”

A shame that, without knowing it, this counted as a farewell for both of them.

Her precious daughter.

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[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. crying, emotional, angst, fluff, and more

A/N: I’m not ready to let go 😭💔

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ FINAL ] P31: You Don't Own Me

I feel fucking clueless.

Our final project is done. Shawn and I finished it throughout this past week, trying to rush through all the procrastinated work which left me little to no time to think—which I desperately needed to.

There’s not much time to really do anything but panic. I have to make a decision. Only a week left before I have to choose if I’m packing my bags to move with Chris or not.

And I just don’t know.

“Hey, you good?” Matt asks, his voice layered with concern as he stares up at me from his phone. Mia’s sitting with her legs across his lap, the living room full of three of us on both couches.

“Yeah, um,” I nod hesitantly. The anxiety pulses through my veins, the sight of the sun sinking below the horizon outside making my stomach churn. “-’m fine.”

Mia’s lips slide into a subtle pout, her eyes analyzing me with precision as I grow stiff under her gaze. She knows. I don’t have to hear it to understand that she sees how utterly clueless I feel.

“You sure?” Mia chirps, narrowing her eyes as I nod again.

Somehow that girl could just read me—she could read anyone. Chris hates it. She’s called him out a couple times.

One time, he was just…off. I couldn’t explain it, but she called him out for being all sad, saying he should stay out in the living room so all four of us could hang out.

Chris surprisingly didn’t snap back. He nodded, pulling me into his lap while we all nestled in the living room and played random games.

It’s become a routine now. My favorite games are the stupid ones—the random questions of ‘would you rather’ that made us all rally up with the most bizarre explanations.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back,” Matt says, brushing off his jeans as he stands before walking down the hallway.

My hands fiddle in my lap. I hear the bathroom door shut softly, taking a glance up to see Mia fully leaned forward, her eyebrows lifted as she tilts her head to the side.

“So…” Her eyes dart around the room. I hear the click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, wincing as she lets out a heavy sigh. “-you gonna talk or am I gonna have to pry?” she questions.

“It’s just…ugh.” I huff, my eyes squinting shut as I try to block out the overwhelming thoughts that had been echoing in my mind every minute of every day.

“I don’t know what to do. Nothing…nothing seems like the right thing to do. Staying here without Chris…like…why? What’s the point? I’d have his family but that…I don’t know…it doesn’t…ugh.” 

My words roll off my tongue with a loud sigh. Mia squints her eyes at me, rolling her lips together before shrugging. “-well—what’s holding you back?” she asks. 

“I…I don’t wanna feel like this is it for me—like I’m only doing it for him, you know?” Mia nods at my words, her eyes full of compassion as she offers a sympathetic smile. “-I just…I think I need to talk to some people first.” 

“Yeah,” she puffs, planting her hands on her knees as she lets out a heavy breath, “-I agree. Go talk, go think—really think for yourself, then make a decision.”

___

He’s rambling. Baylen has been speaking for at least five minutes, telling me the perfect option instead of going with Chris. 

“-Ryan probably won’t mind—we have a spare room in our apartment, you could stay–”

“Baylen.” 

His name falling off my lips in a sullen tone makes his lips fall open wordlessly. I twiddle my fingers together, my eyes darting out the living room window as I feel Trevor scoot closer against my thigh. 

The sunlight beams in through the windows. It feels odd to haven Baylen over here, but Chris said it was better if I invited him over here to talk. He was right. I couldn’t even stomach the thought of seeing the house I grew up in—I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to give another bittersweet goodbye to everything within those walls. 

I roll my lips together. My nose twitches as I feel Baylen’s gaze burn into me. “Ryan…he’s my ex. We dated years ago.” I mention.

His face drops. He shakes his head, his lips smacking open and shut before he lets out a dry laugh. “Wow…I…I really don’t know you, huh?” he tuts, his voice strained. 

I reach over, placing my hand on his shoulder. He stays deathly still. His hands stay rested in his lap, his gaze trained towards the floor as he stares blankly. 

“It’s not your fault, I didn’t tell you—”

“He’s right—Chris.” 

My eyes narrow. Baylen moves, his hand resting on top of mine before he pulls my hand off his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You…you should go with him, I…” he shakes his head, turning towards me with sad eyes, “-I don’t get to try and swoop in and act like I deserve to be there for you now. You…he’s proven himself a lot. He—he deserves to have you—you deserve to heal.” 

My bottom lip wobbles. I feel a wave of warmth crawl over my face, my cheeks growing hot as my vision starts to blur. 

“Baylen, you tried your best—”

“No. I didn’t.” he says, a soft smile etched over his features. “-I tried my best for me, not for you. Chris…he can take care of you—he has taken care of you. I’m here when you need me, but,” his eyes flicker over my face, his lips tugging into a sympathetic frown, “-but you deserve to feel safe and heal. I…I can’t give that to you right now. He can.” 

His hand squeezes mine. I feel the tears in my eyes flooding my sight, my eyes squinting as I feel a warm streak of wetness glide down my cheek. Baylen tugs my hand tighter, pulling me into his chest before wrapping his arms around me tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, his arms cradling me closer, “-’m sorry and…and…I hope I can be the brother you deserve one day.” 

A sharp cry leaves my lips. My hands are pressed between both of us as he tightens his arms around me. 

Years of confusion, years of feeling so alone, so hurt. I finally feel validated. All of it was for a reason. He didn’t just stop loving me one day—it wasn’t my fault. It all makes sense. 

And even though it hurts, there’s still hope. 

___

“I’ll get it, just…just sit down.” 

Chris is anxiously pulling any box I try to lift into his own arms. Jimmy and Matt helped us bring over a bunch of stuff yesterday, we had yet to unpack the stacks and piles of everything.

The vacation home was filled with new stuff. My own picture of Baylen and I is sitting on top of the fireplace mantle. It’s a photo of us in his room from a week ago. We tried to recreate the blanket of forts we used to make, he insisted on capturing a good moment so I would have a reminder of him. 

I really liked it.

My hands latch onto a small bin. The plastic handles are snatched from my grip before I can even comprehend what’s going on. I look up with a shocked expression. Chris spares me a quick smile, turning with the box in his own hands before carrying it down the hallway. 

Looking around, I shake my head, rolling my eyes as I see the lack of boxes. I had yet to even carry one successfully. Chris had taken care of every single one, practically running back and forth so there would be no opportunity for me to pitch in and help.

“Here let me—oh? That’s all of them?” Chris pants, out of breath as he scratches the back of his neck. 

I shake my head with disbelief, plopping down on the couch. Chris sits next to me. His weight dibbets the sofa cushions, making me lean into him more. 

A wave of silence beams over us. I look over to see his eyes glazed over, concern laced in his features as he stares forward with his brows scrunched together. 

Moving, I swing my leg over his lap, plopping myself on his thighs. His hands immediately latch onto my waist. Chris stares up at me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of my shirt. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks. 

I tilt my head, cocking an eyebrow as I let out a huff. “Are you?” I quip. 

“Um, I…” He lets out a sigh as I comb my hands through his hair. His eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. 

“What’s wrong, Chris?” I interrogate, worried as his eyes fall with a sullen glaze of sadness. 

“Are you…are you sure about this? I mean, it’s a lot, we’re moving in together—”

“Chris.” I cut off, watching as his eyes drift back up to mine with uncertainty, “-I want this, I want to be with you. Why are you still overthinking so much? I chose to come.” 

He sighs. His hands grip my hips tighter, swarming up to my waist before he lets out a shaky breath. “I just…I don’t want you to feel like I’m controlling you—or like I own you—”

I place my hands on his shoulders. Leaning forward, I let my lips press against his gently. The kiss is brutally soft, a gentle pucker echoing. 

Pulling away, I laugh at his dazed expression. His lashes slowly flutter open, his eyes darting into mine with a glow of adoration. 

“I know you don’t control me, Chris, I…” I cup his cheek, my lips tugging into a smile as he leans into my touch, “-you don’t own me—but…but my heart belongs to you.” 

His face brightens with joy. I smile as he tugs me in a tight embrace, laughing as he peppers kisses on the side of my head. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers, pressing his lips over my jawline and towards the corner of my mouth, “-I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

The chanted mantra makes my heart flutter in my chest. I let myself melt in his hold, smiling as he continues to mutter the same words under his breath. 

“Chris,” I giggle. 

He pulls away just enough for our eyes to meet. The shit-eating grin on his face makes it hard for me to bite back a painful smile. 

“Can you say that again?” he asks. 

“Hmmm….” I pretend to wonder, looking aimlessly around the room before feeling his hands squeeze my waist to pull my attention back to him. He looks into my eyes with hope and pure devotion. I feel my cheeks ache, my smile growing as I bathe in his dreamy eyes. “-what did I say?” 

Chris bites lightly onto his bottom lip. “You know…” His tongue prods from the inside of his cheek, his eyes glowing with love. “-you don’t own me, but…” 

He repeats my words, his gaze searching into my own while his hands give a reassuring squeeze on my waist. 

I let my vision blur, my eyes only blurring everything except for him. Biting back a smile, I let the words float off my lips;

“You don’t own me…but my heart belongs to you.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading along and showing any sort of support! I've adored writing this series and I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you <333

with love and big tits, rose

[plutosunshine]

What Is Your Subconscious Trying to Tell You? Planets in the 12th House

Sun in the 12th house

That’s like the universe saying, “You’re powerful, radiant, and deeply gifted… but let’s play hide-and-seek with it for a while.”

The subconscious here is kind of whispering instead of yelling. It’s like, “Hey, you’ve got this inner light, but it works best when you're alone, dreaming, meditating, or doing something wildly imaginative at 3 a.m.” You’re not the “spotlight” type — you’re more like the candle in a quiet temple. Subtle, sacred, and kinda mysterious.

It might also mean your sense of self (the Sun) is on a journey through a foggy forest. You feel things deeply, often without knowing where it’s all coming from. But that’s the 12th house way — it’s not linear, it’s more “vibes and visions.”

Sometimes this placement is like your soul signed up for a retreat in this lifetime: “Let’s develop compassion, spiritual insight, and psychic Wi-Fi.” But occasionally, it forgets it also has to go grocery shopping and file taxes, which is less magical.

Your subconscious wants you to stop trying to be someone else’s idea of “visible” and start honoring the quiet power you already have. It’s telling you: “You're not here to be loud — you’re here to be luminous in silence.”

Basically, you’re the kind of person who might not post selfies every day, but when you do, everyone’s like “Damn, who is this ethereal being?”

The trick? Spend time in solitude, trust your dreams, and don’t be afraid of your own depth. Your Sun’s not lost — it’s just meditating.

Moon in the 12th house

Ah, Moon in the 12th house — aka “Feelings? Yes. Do I understand them? Not always. Do I absorb the emotional state of every plant, cloud, and stranger’s sneeze? Absolutely.”

This is the placement of the secret empath, the cosmic sponge, the person whose emotional radar is so sensitive it picks up on vibes that haven't even happened yet. Your subconscious basically lives in a cozy, candle-lit cave with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, journaling about things your conscious mind hasn’t figured out.

You might cry during shampoo commercials and have no idea why. Spoiler: it’s not about the shampoo — it’s probably unresolved childhood stuff, or your neighbor's breakup energy floating through the walls.

The Moon rules emotions, instincts, and your inner child — and when it’s tucked into the 12th house, it's like your feelings are behind a curtain. Sometimes you don’t even realize how deeply affected you are until your cat looks at you weird and suddenly you're having a 3-hour existential crisis.

Your subconscious here is constantly trying to process and heal old emotional baggage — not just from this life, but possibly from past ones too. (Yup, we’re going full mystical.) It’s like your dreams, gut feelings, and random waves of nostalgia are all part of your soul’s therapy sessions.

And the message? Feel your feels. Even if you don’t understand them. Spend time alone. Journal. Swim. Meditate. Cry at art. Be weird and emotional in a safe, private bubble. That’s where your magic lives.

Also — protect your energy. You’re not crazy. You're just psychic and slightly haunted in a beautiful way.

Mercury in the 12th house

Mercury in the 12th house is like having a genius poet locked in the attic of your mind. They write incredible things, uncover deep truths, have brilliant thoughts... but they don’t always send the memo down to your conscious brain. Or if they do, it gets lost in translation somewhere between “dream logic” and “wait, what was I saying again?”

This is the placement of secret thinkers, inner philosophers, and psychic messengers. You may come across as quiet or daydreamy, but under the surface your brain is a labyrinth of thoughts, insights, and deeply intuitive connections. Mercury here doesn’t shout — it whispers from the shadows like, “Psst, I know something you don’t know…”

It might show up as overthinking in the middle of the night, or having whole conversations in your head that are more interesting than real-life small talk. You may also randomly blurt something super profound, and everyone’s like “Whoa… where did that come from?” and you’re like “I… don’t know??”

Also, let’s be real — your subconscious is a talker. It just prefers dreams, music, symbols, and spiritual downloads instead of bullet points. Mercury in the 12th is more Rumi than PowerPoint.

And your subconscious message? Trust the way your mind works, even if it’s not “normal.” Write things down. Record your dreams. Let your creativity out in weird, wordy, wonderful ways. You don’t have to explain your thoughts to everyone — sometimes they’re meant to be decoded slowly, like secret scrolls.

You’re not forgetful. You’re just tuned to a frequency that plays between the lines.

Venus in the 12th house

Ohhh, this one is pure soft poetry and tragic romance vibes. It’s like your heart lives in a secret garden with a “no entry unless you’re telepathic” sign on the gate.

You love deeply — sometimes even before you consciously realize it. Love sneaks up on you. Crushes feel like dreams. You might be drawn to unavailable people (emotionally, geographically, or dramatically). Why? Because Venus in the 12th doesn’t always want a simple rom-com — it wants a soul story with plot twists.

You might also hide your love. Maybe you don’t want to “bother” someone with your feelings. Maybe you fall in love in silence, or love people in ways they never even realize — like a secret admirer… but spiritual. Your subconscious is like, “Let’s keep this precious thing hidden so no one can hurt it.” (Cute, but exhausting.)

Also, you give love selflessly. Venus here is the friend who will help you move at midnight, bake you cookies when you’re sad, and never mention how much you mean to them. Why? Because they assume you already feel it. (Spoiler: not everyone does. Use your words, magical creature.)

Your subconscious is whispering: “You are worthy of love that doesn’t require self-sacrifice to feel real.” Not all love has to be painful, secret, or karmic. You deserve joy, softness, and being loved out loud. Let people love you back. Let your heart be seen, even if it feels scary.

And one more thing? You’re lowkey magnetic. People pick up on that Venusian glow even if you’re trying to hide behind your coffee cup. So maybe step out of the fog once in a while. Love is looking for you too — it just needs a map.

Mars in the 12th house

Ahhh Mars in the 12th house — the warrior monk of the zodiac. It’s like your inner fighter went on a silent retreat and only throws punches in dreams, poetry, or deep existential crises.

Mars is action, drive, anger, desire. But in the 12th house? It’s doing push-ups in the shadows. You have energy, fire, and passion… but it might come out sideways, secretly, or at completely inconvenient times like “why am I suddenly furious at this paperclip?”

Sometimes you’re not even sure what you’re mad at — you just feel pressure building, like there’s a volcano inside that occasionally sighs dramatically through a vent. Or maybe you hesitate to assert yourself because confrontation feels unsafe or unclear. Mars here often learns early in life: “It’s not safe to show anger.” So you tuck it away… until it punches the inside of your ribcage.

But don’t worry — your subconscious has a plan.

Mars in the 12th is like spiritual kung fu. It wants you to use your strength not just to win arguments, but to fight for your healing, your compassion, your creativity, your dreams. Your drive is sacred, even if it feels slippery.

This placement also gives wild dream energy — you might fight battles, run missions, or fall in lust in your sleep.Honestly, your dream self is probably more assertive than your waking self. (Mars is out there living its best dreamlife.)

Your subconscious is saying: “Stop doubting your power just because it doesn’t look like everyone else’s.” You don’t need to charge into battle — but you do need to claim your space. Take inspired action. Express anger safely. Do physical movement that feels healing. Say no without a 3-page apology.

You’re not passive. You’re just a warrior of the unseen. Mars in the 12th isn’t weak — it’s just training on another level.

Jupiter in the 12th house

Jupiter in the 12th house is like having a guardian angel with a great sense of humor who works undercover. You're walking through life with this invisible cheerleader going, “You don’t know it yet, but I’m totally helping you avoid disasters and manifest blessings behind the scenes.”

This placement is lowkey magical. It gives you luck, protection, and spiritual growth — but in subtle, dreamy, 12th-house ways. It’s not “I won the lottery!” luck. It’s “I missed that train and met the love of my life because of it” luck. Divine timing, secret blessings, the universe whispering “trust me” when everything seems foggy.

You might have this deep, unshakable faith that everything will be okay — even if your logical brain is like, “Girl, how??” That’s Jupiter in the 12th. It’s not loud. It’s not flashy. It’s cosmic reassurance wrapped in a soft blanket of intuition.

Also? You're spiritually wise in ways you might not even realize. You could be the friend who just "knows" what someone needs to hear. Or the person who finds meaning in chaos. Or the one journaling about life purpose at 2 a.m. while others are doomscrolling.

And your subconscious? It’s whispering: “Expand inward.” Grow your inner world. Trust your intuition. Let yourself explore dreams, healing, compassion, art, philosophy — not because they’re “productive,” but because your soul literally needs them.

Also: don’t ignore your gift of helping others — even anonymously. You might be amazing at behind-the-scenes kindness, working in solitude, or just radiating that “safe to cry here” energy. People may not know why they feel better around you — but they do.

So yeah. Jupiter in the 12th? It’s spiritual Wi-Fi with unlimited data. Use it. Share it. Trust it.

Saturn in the 12th house

Saturn in the 12th house is like having a strict, old-school monk living in your subconscious — the kind who wakes you up at 5 a.m. to meditate and reminds you that “suffering builds character.” Thanks, bro.

This placement gives deep inner strength, but not without a bit of existential bootcamp. Saturn here often makes you feel like you're carrying invisible weight. You might not always know why you feel heavy, tired, or a bit lonely — but it’s like your soul remembers every past-life karma, every buried fear, and it’s quietly working through them in the background.

It’s the “I feel guilty for no reason” placement. Or “I don’t even know what I’m afraid of, but I am.” Saturn in the 12th is the cosmic janitor sweeping your inner basement — slowly, methodically, and with a clipboard.

You may also keep your struggles hidden. You might not ask for help, because something inside you says “I have to figure this out alone.” And honestly? You probably do get stronger that way. But also — gentle reminder — you don’t have to do everything the hard way.

Your subconscious is saying: “Face your shadows, but don’t marry them.” You’re here to learn how to carry solitude without it turning into isolation. To build faith and structure in the unseen. To turn fear into discipline. And to realize that your strength isn’t in being hard — it’s in being whole.

Also? You’re probably amazing at long-term healing work, spiritual commitment, and being the quiet rock in chaotic times. You’re not weak — you’re just wired to grow from the inside out, and that takes time.

So be patient with yourself. Your soul’s doing advanced-level homework. You’ll graduate with a PhD in Inner Resilience.

Uranus in the 12th house

Uranus in the 12th house is like having a mad scientist, rebel hacker, and cosmic lightning bolt all living in your subconscious… but they’re working anonymously. Behind the scenes. Wearing a trench coat and sunglasses. At night.

This is the placement of psychic plot twists, intuitive downloads, and freaky deja vu moments. You’ll be chilling and suddenly get a “feeling” not to go somewhere — and then find out later that something chaotic happened there. Or you’ll dream about someone you haven’t seen in five years… and they text you the next day. Classic 12th house Uranus stuff.

There’s a deep inner genius here, but it’s not always available on demand. You don’t always know when inspiration will strike — but when it does, it’s weirdly brilliant. Think: flashes of insight in the shower, sudden “aha!”s at 4 a.m., or radical ideas that come while staring at a wall.

Your subconscious is constantly processing the collective energy. It’s like you’re plugged into the Wi-Fi of the universe — but the signal is unstable and sometimes comes with static and prophetic memes.

You may also crave freedom… in ways you can’t always explain. Like, “I just want to be alone in a cave, reinventing myself every three days, thanks.” You rebel against anything that boxes in your soul, even if no one else sees those boxes. Especially rules that feel outdated or fake.

And your subconscious message? “Liberate yourself from within.” The real revolution is happening behind your eyes — in your dreams, your gut feelings, your untamed thoughts. Trust your intuition, honor your eccentricities, and don’t be afraid to break internal rules you didn’t even know were optional.

You’re not unstable. You’re wired for awakening. Uranus in the 12th doesn’t want you to follow the map — it wants you to channel the lightning.

Neptune in the 12th house

Neptune in the 12th house is like being born with a secret doorway to other realms… but also constantly misplacing the key.

This is peak mystical energy. Your subconscious is basically floating in a foggy, glittery dreamscape where mermaids give life advice and emotions come with a soundtrack. You have intuitive, psychic, or even mediumistic abilities — whether you’ve tapped into them or not. Like, you feel things no one else notices. You soak up moods, signals, and subtle energies like a spiritual sponge wrapped in velvet.

But let’s be honest: sometimes you’re not sure what’s yours and what’s just collective sadness, someone else’s anxiety, or Neptune doing its usual “let’s blur the lines” thing.

You may zone out, daydream, escape into art, fantasy, music, or naps (so many naps). Your subconscious says, “Let me dissolve reality for a bit — it’s too loud out there.”

Neptune here is also like: “Boundaries? Never heard of them.” You might feel compassion for literally everyone — even fictional villains and angry birds at the bus stop. Which is beautiful, but exhausting if you’re not protecting your energy.

And the message from your subconscious? “You are here to connect with the divine — but don’t lose yourself in the fog.” Your superpower is your connection to higher love, imagination, empathy, and art. But you’ve got to anchor it. Ground it. Channel it. Otherwise, it’s like having a gorgeous sailboat with no steering wheel.

You're not “too sensitive.” You’re just tuned into the cosmic frequency that most people ignore. Neptune in the 12th is a portal — and you’re the one who gets to walk through it (just remember to come back for snacks and hydration, okay?).

So dream. Create. Heal. Escape sometimes. But also: have boundaries, routines, and maybe one friend who texts you “hey, are you still on this planet?” every now and then.

Pluto in the 12th house

Pluto in the 12th house? Whew. That’s like having a shadow therapist living in your subconscious, doing deep soul excavation while you’re just trying to make it through Monday.

This placement is intense, transformational, and lowkey kind of psychic. You have emotional X-ray vision — you sense what’s hidden, what’s repressed, what’s not being said. You walk into a room and feel the tension before anyone opens their mouth. You read people without trying. Creepy? Maybe. Accurate? Absolutely.

But here’s the thing: you do the same thing to yourself — digging, unraveling, overanalyzing your own motives, wounds, dreams, fears, past lives, ancestral traumas, karmic loops… all while doing the dishes.

You might carry deep emotional weight that’s not even yours. Pluto in the 12th is often like, “Congrats! You’re the family karma sponge!” (rude, but powerful). Your subconscious is constantly whispering: "There’s more under the surface… keep digging." And you do. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable.

You might also have intense dreams, powerful emotions you can’t always explain, or a strange fascination with all things taboo, mysterious, or dark — psychology, death, sex, power, transformation. Basically, Pluto lives where the sun doesn’t shine, and in the 12th house, it’s got a whole underground palace.

But the beauty? You’re a healer. A transformer. A shadow-walker. You’re here to learn that your darkness isn’t dangerous — it’s sacred. You can help others face their fears because you’ve faced (or are constantly facing) your own. You don’t flinch at other people’s pain. You just get it.

So what’s Pluto in the 12th really trying to tell you?

“Go inward. Let go. Rise from your own ashes. Again. And again. And again.” You’re not broken — you’re evolving. Quietly. Radically. From the soul out.

[theladybrownstarot]

𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 "𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞" ?

"𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓊𝓏 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜��� 𝒾𝓉 "

|𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ִֶָ |𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ִֶָ |𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 ִֶָ |

HOW TO PICK A PILE ? Take a deep breathe , close your eyes after your open them up choose the pile where your sight goes first in calming inner silence . If you are called up by more than one pile you please feel free to choose them. This Pick-A-Card is timeless therefore feel free !

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

❦ The people think that you are the only one because you come at the most vulnerable time people are going through which makes some feel that you are God's most precious person sent for them. It's the way you are so curious and understanding towards people's life and problems which make them feel that they're important to you somehow and you're important for them similarly. It's your empathy and compassion which makes their heart speak and reach for you to embrace you in their arms. You are someone's dream girl or boy because of your looks and brain - Beauty with a brain . I may believe that you are not someone who is patient that is because you cannot bear yourself standing at a point where your growth is hindered and your opportunities are missing instead you will just directly cast your own way which will make people more inspired from you and connected - wanting to connect with you . Your core lessons of forgiveness and acceptance makes people find a new way to their life for which they are grateful to you and love you for but it is not just because of this but because when they are upgraded to an another level of energy they start to resonate or vibrate like you which make the feel to actually want you. You bring colors and peace to someone's life they always wanted to have, you calm the storms of people's life they have been facing for long, you could be the only person who must have helped when no one did for them. People actually feel that they can be themselves with you without any self-Imposed limitation and even if they have you are the first one to actually give a gentle nudge on the shoulder saying , " hey its ok completely to feel like that but don't hold yourself and hide your true self " , "come on chill because just like you don't think a lot about people similarly they don't think about you a lot so be comfortable with yourself" . I wouldn't be surprised if people admitted that they manifested you in their life. In a simple way to tell the reason you are someone who gives healing to others and your wisdom makes them feel more self aware and motivated.

❦ Prominent astrological signs : Scorpio , water signs in moon or rising , Saturn in 9th house /cancer / taurus , Saturn and jupiter conjunction , aquarius sun and revati.

Paid-Readings / Donation-based readings : You can get your personalised readings from me too , I'll be happy to guide and interact with you through readingsss 🫶🏻✨️🪷🦋🍀

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

❦ when people are with you they feel that they have done a very good deed by being born on this earth because you show the gratitude or you should how grateful you are for their presence. You are someone perceived to be cool by other people making them feel more attracted towards you but not only this like what makes you cool is not your sarcasm but the way you live so simply without any need of complexity. Your happy go around person will make people feel that there are at least humans on this earth who are not actually always crying but can see the beauty even in the harsh Times like them - simply doesn't drain people's energy because we know that the more we stay around the low negative energy people the more we are thrown to attract those energy to us. You are not selfish but a well wisher for someone which makes people believe that you are genuine and safe to be around if they want to share their secrets. I really feel that the people who choose this pile are high achievers in any sense possible. To be honest , people feel more attracted to you because you open a gate where they can attract more opportunities or there is a new way of energy being opened for them to come into their life after you meet them -you leave behind something beautiful after you're away . People really trust you a lot because you are not like the majority of people who will take someone's trust and later throw it away - you make yourself feel like a reliable partner . If you were attracted to find pile number one then you should read pile number one from the 7th line. You people teach other people to love themselves through calmness and bring external balance in people's busy lives. Your presence alone can make them come into the present and deal with their unconscious side which they were quite hesitant to deal with it alone. You help people understand how to balance their desired living and their happiness by being themselves without any guilt. Your confidence really makes you shine among people also the way you do not compromise with your standards makes people really chase you. This is very loving but yes people find their home with you and themselves too.

❦ Prominent astrological signs : jupiter , saggitairus , Saturn / in libra , jupiter in Pisces, moon in aquarius and sun in scorpio .

Paid-Readings / Donation-based readings : You can get your personalised readings from me too , I'll be happy to guide and interact with you through readingsss 🫶🏻✨️🪷🦋🍀

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

❦ For some of the people you make up a best family person because you are soft and gentle but too that the people's family know about you and think that you are better for their son or daughter. You keep people happy around and I perceive with most of you have actually sorted out many family problems of other people and in fact of your own too which makes you quite an experienced person to get married with but please be aware that people don't actually push everything on you basically on your shoulders. People feel complete with you. I am getting a strong message that people don't say that you are directly there the one by meeting you without any third party involved but when they meet you by hearing about you or they meet you through someone in part most of a relationship has been brought up by other people only. You're quite a traditional person for sure , like someone who would incorporate traditionality in their life basically in daily life for example worshipping gods, respecting the traditional rituals and etc. I don't want to make you feel that just because you are a traditional person you make yourself directly as a marriage partner but in today's world we can really see that people feel like those who are traditional makeup good marriage partners for their children yk what I'm talking about but really I don't want you to feel like that because being traditional is not being spiritual , it's something that automatically comes under it . I want you to take it as a compliment only rest aside you being spiritual is very beautiful for growth. I really feel that this pile is very very grounded and simple as water. You really make people feel attracted towards you because the way you balance out the things in your own life but the people or be professional you some house show the lessons indirectly to people that they should in corporate in their life finding you as an inspiration or a role model too. People wanna be there with you in your life and connect with your soul . You are really good at balancing your emotion and practicality which is very sensual and desirable for others, the way you carry yourself with the will power makes people feel that what kind of magic are you ? They really want to have babies with you , they really want to be protected and loved by you in your embrace.

❦ Prominent astrological signs : jupiter in Capricorn, mars in Pisces, Venus, taurus & jupiter in 11th house.

Paid-Readings / Donation-based readings : You can get your personalised readings from me too , I'll be happy to guide and interact with you through readingsss 🫶🏻✨️🪷🦋🍀

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

©️ theladybrownstarot 2025 all rights reserved . I do not consent my work to be copied , sold , rephrased or plagiarized on any platform . Any violation shall result to copyright strike .

[schizoidvision]

Splitting and the Schizoid Experience: A Personal Take

For those of us with schizoid dynamics, splitting doesn’t always show up the way it’s described in most clinical writing. We don’t tend to flip between loving and hating people, or shift from idealization to devaluation in a dramatic way. Instead, our internal compass often revolves around one primary distinction, whether something (or someone) feels safe or unsafe.

This binary creates an internal threshold. Once someone crosses it, it can feel like there’s no going back. Even if the shift looks subtle from the outside, something has been internally reclassified. And that reclassification tends to lead us straight into withdrawal...

1. Safety vs. Danger as a Relational Filter

I think most of us aren’t operating on a spectrum of how much we like someone. Instead, we’re trying to calculate whether it’s safe to keep them psychologically near. If someone feels safe, we might let them orbit us maybe even with a surprising level of internal fondness. But if they feel unsafe, that fondness often shuts down immediately.

It’s not always a conscious decision. There’s usually a felt shift (something in the body, or a sudden distancing in the mind) that signals it’s time to pull back. It can feel like that person no longer exists in the same way. Not because we hate them, but because our inner structure has flagged them as dangerous.

2. Emotional Distance Isn’t Indifference

I’ve noticed that emotional distancing after a breach of safety doesn’t mean we stop caring. It just becomes too dangerous to keep caring actively. It can be difficult to keep someone in view internally without reverting to extremes, either too close or completely severed. So we cut contact, emotionally or physically, not to punish, but to stabilize.

Many of us have trouble with "whole object constancy" holding someone as both good and bad at the same time. If someone lets us down in a way that hits the wrong nerve, it may feel safer to view them only through that new filter, even if part of us knows the full picture is more complex. That awareness doesn’t always override the internal demand for safety.

3. The Role of Dissociation and Detachment

In situations where we don’t or can’t physically withdraw, some of us dissociate instead. It’s like we retreat to another layer inside ourselves. We might still talk, still nod, still function... but we’re not really present. I think of it as shifting operations to a more internal control panel, where emotions are muted, and thoughts are screened.

This is especially likely to happen if a situation feels emotionally loaded, but we don’t have the tools or bandwidth to process it in real time. It’s less about being cold, and more about needing a buffer from what’s coming in.

4. Why We Might Not Return

One of the hard things about splitting in the schizoid experience is that once someone feels unsafe, there often isn’t a reset button. Even if they apologize or circumstances change, the shift in our perception tends to hold. I think this is because reestablishing trust would require lowering our defenses again, and for many of us, that feels more dangerous than staying detached.

This can create long-term isolation, even when we miss the connection. The protection instinct overrides the relational impulse.

5. What It Means to Understand the Pattern

Understanding that splitting can be based on perceived safety instead of moral judgments has helped me a lot. It reframes those internal cutoffs as self-preserving responses rather than cold dismissals. It also helps explain why others may not understand our sudden emotional retreat, because from the outside, nothing has visibly changed.

If we can start to track what makes someone feel safe or unsafe to us, it might be possible to hold more nuance over time... or at least to understand our responses with less internal confusion.

We may not always be able to change the pattern, but recognizing the structure behind it can give us some grounding. That grounding can help us make clearer decisions, and maybe even open a few internal doors that would otherwise stay shut.

Schizoid Education Videos

[floweycidal]

before we know light, or words, or even the geometry of our own hands, we know a face.

the arc of a cheek. the space where eyes should be.

ahead of sense, there is seeking.

we find eyes in wall sockets, smiles in slivers of moon.

we pull faces from drifting clouds, from the knots in weathered wood, from the staticky hiss of dead television screens.

because where there’s a face, there’s someone on the other end.

and where there’s someone, there’s the chance - a stubborn little hope - that we’re not alone in the open, distant expanse.

the loops, you understand, could eat away at everything. siffrin’s time, his agency, his compass of what mattered.

they could redraw him without end, peel him back to nerve and habit until he was as clear as glass and twice as empty.

everything, all of it, except the face.

this, siffrin keeps. this, siffrin owns.

a smile drawn just right to keep the questions down. a look that passed for calm when his hands couldn’t.

siffrin's oldest sleight and best-kept art. the one part of them that hadn’t started forgetting back.

...but a spotlight only burns for as long as the scene does.

by act 5, the bulbs have blinked their last. the chairs sit cold. the wings cradle no entrances. props packed, marquee blank.

whatever that face once offered, there’s no one left to take it.

and the game doesn’t mourn its passing...why should it?

that face was always a transaction anyway, a bargain struck with whoever was watching, an agreement that seeing meant believing.

audience gone, performance ends, contract void - off it comes.

like his memories had, like the rest of him has been doing all this time, it fades. bleached to nothing, the way photographs surrender to sun.

a face is proof. it is history. memory.

it holds everything you are. the way you existed, the way you were known.

it bears your mother’s toothy grin, your father’s way of squinting at the sun.

it's made of every way the world changed you, every way you changed it back.

lose that, and what remains that you can claim?

when nothing of siffrin survives to remember - what bitter joke calls itself a return?

[argyrocratie]

"Inevitably, O. Gloag invokes Camus’ famous phrase – “I believe in justice, but I will defend my mother before justice” –, pronounced during a press conference on December 12, 1957 in Stockholm, to better assert, peremptorily: “Thus, this refusal of the historical movement towards decolonization which he knows is inevitable makes Camus a Baudelairean figure: the last great colonial writer, he goes against History (p. 42). » We know this declaration in particular thanks to the article by the correspondent of Le Monde, dated December 14, 1957. Questioned by a representative of the FLN, Camus, winner of the Nobel Prize for literature, stated:

“I have been silent for a year and eight months, which does not mean that I have stopped acting. I have been and still am a supporter of a just Algeria, where the two populations must live in peace and equality. I said and repeated that it was necessary to do justice to the Algerian people and grant them a fully democratic regime, until the hatred on both sides became such that it no longer belonged to an intellectual to intervene, his declarations risking aggravating the terror. It seemed to me that it was better to wait until the right moment to unite instead of to divide. I can assure you, however, that you have comrades alive today thanks to actions that you do not know about. It is with a certain reluctance that I give my reasons in public. I have always condemned terror. I must also condemn terrorism which is carried out blindly, in the streets of Algiers for example, and which one day could strike my mother or my family. I believe in justice, but I will defend my mother before justice.“

We understand that it is first and foremost the problem of terrorism – in particular that directed by FLN groups against European civilians – which concerns Camus, whose mother still lives in Algiers. It is therefore an opposition to an unjust means – namely the use of indiscriminate violence – and not to a just cause – decolonization – which is highlighted here, even if the writer will never speak out for independence. , which we can always criticize him for without misinterpreting his words. Moreover, in a letter addressed to Le Monde, published in the December 19, 1957 edition, Camus even expressed his sincere compassion for the activist who had addressed him:

“I would also like to add, regarding the young Algerian who challenged me, that I feel closer to him than to many French people who talk about Algeria without knowing it. He knew what he was talking about, and his face was not one of hatred but of despair and unhappiness. I share this misfortune, its face is that of my country. This is why I wanted to give publicly to this young Algerian, and to him alone, the personal explanations that I had kept silent until then and which your correspondent has faithfully reproduced.”

(...)

To conclude, but without quite closing the discussion, two pieces are still missing from the file as is often the case among anti-musians and pro-musians alike. Unlike the intellectuals of the French left who kept silent on the fratricidal violence between Algerian nationalists – when they did not go so far as to legitimize the ouster of the Messalist current by the most reprehensible means – Camus wrote a short text , dated October 1957 and published in the November issue of La Révolution prolétarienne:

“Since I am speaking to trade unionists, I have a question to ask them and to ask myself. Are we going to let the best Algerian trade union activists be assassinated by an organization which seems to want to conquer, by means of assassination, the totalitarian leadership of the Algerian movement? Algerian cadres, whom the Algeria of tomorrow, whatever it may be, cannot do without, are extremely rare (and we have our responsibilities in this state of affairs). But among them, in the foreground, are the trade union activists. They are killed one after the other, and with each activist who falls, the Algerian future sinks a little deeper into the night. It must be said at least, and as loudly as possible, to prevent anticolonialism from becoming the good conscience that justifies everything, and first of all the killers.“

The problem raised by Camus, who evokes the future Algeria – which he implies can be independent – concerns the methods used in the name of its liberation – namely assassinations and terrorism – the place of trade unionists – and therefore of the class struggle: this “postscript” will serve as a reference for the Committee of Solidarity and Defense of Algerian Trade Unionists – as well as respect for minorities – therefore democratic freedoms – in this process. In doing so, he finds himself on the side of the pro-Messalist left – which is easier for him due to the refusal of the MNA leadership to use and legitimize violence against civilians

(...)

Because contrary to what O. Gloag writes, Camus did not refuse to get involved in the Algerian conflict (p. 93). He did it many times, by the means he deemed most consistent with his ethics – even if this may seem insufficient or ambivalent to us in many respects"

-Nedjib SIDI MOUSSA “How to forget” (2023)

[ino-odyssey]

EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP I’m going to give you a brief overview on what is (arguably) the most important theme in the odyssey, the one theme you absolutely need to know to understand the poem if you intend on reading it- the theme of xenia.

Xenia was the Ancient Greek concept of hospitality- the sacred relationship between guest and host. It was extremely important in Ancient Greek society.

Back then Greece wasn’t its own country, it was multiple different city-states, all with different customs. There were no universal laws and without xenia there was nothing to stop somebody from walking into your home and murdering you. In fact, xenia was so important that Zeus himself was the god of xenia. (He is referred to as ‘Xenos Zeus’ multiple times in The Odyssey) Xenia was one of the few moral codes that were “panhellenic” (applied to all of Greece), and if the Greeks showed bad xenia, they believed they would face divine retribution from the gods.

So then, how did you show good xenia? You follow the xenia protocol! So, someone shows up at your door, stranger or friend, here’s what you do- let them inside, (DON’T ask any questions about who they are or why they’re here yet) seat them in the best seat, give them food and drink, provide entertainment, THEN you may ask who they are and why they’re here. When your guest leaves, you are expected to provide them with a gift. In return, the guest must be respectful and not take advantage of their hosts kindness.

‘How is this important to The Odyssey?’, I hear you ask, and boy am I glad you did! In the Odyssey, xenia is a show of moral values. Characters that show good xenia are good people, characters that show bad xenia are bad people, and characters that show mixed xenia are morally ambiguous.

EXAMPLES:

Telemachus shows good xenia towards Athena (who is disguised as Odysseus’ old friend, Mentes)- He caught sight of Athene and set off at once for the porch, ashamed that a stranger should be kept standing at the gates. He went straight up to his visitor, gripped his right hand, took his bronze spear and gave him cordial greetings. “Welcome friend!” He said, “You can tell us what has brought you here when you have had some food.” (I.120-130)

Circe shows mixed xenia towards Odysseus and his crew- She turns Odysseus’ crew into pigs (Now they had pig’s heads and bristles, and they grunted like pigs; but their minds were as human as they had been before. -X.230-240) However, once transformed back into humans she shows excellent xenia (Circe meanwhile had graciously bathed the members of my party in her palace and rubbed them with olive oil. She gave them all tunics and warm cloaks to wear -X.445-455)

The Suitors show bad xenia towards Telemachus, Odysseus, and Penelope- How dare you plot against Telemachus’ life, showing no compassion to supplicants, even though they are under Zeus’ eye. It is sacrilege for someone who has received mercy to plot against someone in need of mercy (XVI.420-430)

This last example is why Odysseus kills the suitors- their gross violation of xenia by overstaying their welcome, plotting to kill their host and (in Antinous’ case) breaking a previous xenia bond. The death of the suitors was divine justice- by disrespecting xenia they disrespected the gods and their deaths were most definitely deserved.

[redeemingvillains]

the soul's brand (ii) - draco malfoy

summary: whether it's the knowledge of what's coming or the way he can't tear his gaze away from you, draco realizes it's not as easy to keep his distance as it had been in the past.

word count: 2.7k

ˋ°•*⁀➷ series masterlist / series soundtrack

The browns and greys of London blurred into the rich greens of the countryside like an impressionist painting in the windows of the Hogwarts Express as you watched the landscape fly by.

You steadied your footsteps against the gentle rocking of the train as you walked the narrow corridor, dodging friends and classmates, stopping intermittently to catch up on your way to find the trolley.

You were struck by the overwhelming normalcy of returning to school on the heels of a summer spent gripped by constant fear and the gut-wrenching news of attacks on muggles and wizards alike by death eaters. But you soon realized that not everything was as it seemed as you passed increasingly empty compartments, a grim reminder that less students were returning to Hogwarts than usual.

You entered the next carriage and found yourself eerily alone. You moved quickly for the far door and reached for it before it slid open in front of you and Draco stepped forward, nearly knocking you over until he caught your eye.

It had been years since you’d spoken to one another, but sometimes you still felt that eleven-year-old girl inside of you when you looked at him; you would always have an immediate, unwarranted, unearned tenderness towards him where so many others only felt on edge.

You tried to ignore the pounding in your chest as he closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours, and as it snicked closed you realized quite suddenly how alone the two of you were as the train continued to rock you back and forth.

You searched his eyes to see wisps of grey like dark smoke. He was impeccably dressed, head-to-toe in black, but you clocked the bags under his eyes. He looked tired, sick even, yet somehow still frustratingly handsome at the same time. You suppressed the urge to hug him, to pull him into your arms; you knew that his father had been arrested and were certain that's what must've been weighing so heavily on him.

“YN” he said by way of acknowledgement.

“Draco” you replied.

The weight of a thousand unspoken words sat between you like a third passenger in the car.

“Did you have a good summer?” he asked.

“Good as can be, I suppose” you replied, trying to keep the tone light.

He nodded, realizing in retrospect what a daft question that was. No one had had a good summer.

“Draco, about your dad, I’m so sorry” you continued.

His eyes snapped to yours and you worried for a moment that you’d said the wrong thing; you were never scared of Draco, but you knew he had a temper and after everything you’d heard, everything you’d seen, perhaps even as a half-blood you knew you should be afraid of him. But you weren’t. You knew you never truly could be.

“Thanks” he said simply, unable to understand how you could express compassion towards him or the man that had said so many vile things about you it tossed his mind.

He met your eyes again briefly and you saw something behind his stormy gaze: anger, pain, but there was also fear and something else you couldn’t quite put a finger on that made your heart beat a little faster and brought a blush to your cheeks.

“I should—” you gestured to the next car and moved to slide by him in the narrow space, close enough that he could smell your perfume, amber and vanilla.

“Yeah” he said in response, trying to nudge out of the way, pulling his hands into fists when his fingers itched to reach for yours, to grab you back to him, to talk to you, to tell you everything, even though he knew you’d never understand.

You slid the door open and exited without looking back.

School proved to be a welcome distraction.

Despite the evidence of extra security, everyone and everything seemed to fall into its normal rhythm, like Hogwarts could remain permanently untouched by the realities of the outside world.

Days later, you found yourself thinking back to your conversation with Draco, and not just for the first time, your mind having frequently wandered back to the sound of his deep voice, to the intangible look in his eye. You bit your lip, worrying it back and forth as you zoned out until Hermione kicked you gently under the table.

“What’s got you all distracted?” she asked playfully.

She loved goading you on about your love life, hoping that maybe this year you would find somebody that stuck. But when she caught your eye, she realized you weren’t that type of distracted. Well, not quite.

“I saw Draco on the train” you sighed, hesitantly. “We… talked...” you admitted.

Hermione was well aware of your complicated history with Draco and despite the fact that he made every inch of her skin crawl, she trusted your heart and your judgment and tried her best to support you.

“Oh” she said simply, pursing her lips in response. “And how was that?”

“I’m worried about him.”

Hermione’s eyebrow quirked at that. What had this boy ever done over the last five years to be worthy of your concern?

“YN—” she sighed, putting her quill down, steeling herself to talk you through this once more.

“—I know what you’re going to say” you said, stopping her before she could get started. “I just… Something’s not right. I know I have no right, no place to care. I just…do.”

Your words summed up the feelings Hermione knew you’d held in your heart for years. Resigned, she grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“He’s not yours to worry about” she said as kindly as possible.

And for once, that seemed to be the problem.

You had never liked potions class, but as you settled into first term with Professor Slughorn, you were beginning to think that had a lot to do with Professor Snape.

You no longer mixed potions that were unmanageably complex and smelled like spoiled milk, Slughorn introduced you to new things like Felix Felicis and today, Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence.

In a world that had made each of you face the dark realities of adulthood faster than you should have, it was nice to remember that you were all still teenagers as you stared at the cauldron bubbling in front of the room. It was said to smell differently to each person according to what attracted them and the class eagerly jostled to line up and sense it themselves

You stepped up with Hermione, smiling broadly at each other before leaning forward. You took a deep inhale as she muttered freshly mown grass, new parchment… and spiraled off.

It didn’t hit you at first and you were worried that you were broken somehow, that it wouldn’t work for you, and then you smelled the daisies that bloomed in the field by your house, floral and dewy, you smelled warm pumpkin pasties that melted in your mouth on a summer day and the undeniable scent of the expensive cologne that had invaded your senses when you ran into Draco on the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione looked at you, eager to hear what you had smelled, her face falling as she registered your expression which was both happy and extraordinarily sad at the same time. And in the wordless way that only a best friend can read you, she tugged your hand and pulled you back to your seat.

Draco was doing a stellar job of acting like he didn’t care about this ridiculous potion, sauntering to the back of the line as Slughorn babbled on about it, but that didn’t stop him from peering around everyone to try to steal a subtle glimpse of your reaction, dying to know what you smelled but unable to see your expression.

Just as well he thought. I shouldn’t be worried about it.

When it was his turn, he barely approached the cauldron. He eyed it skeptically and took a cursory sniff, but that was all it took for the synapses in his brain to fire at rapid speed: The smell of the tall grass behind his house after a rainfall, rich and earthy, he could almost feel it tickling his fingers and toes as he ran through it, arms outstretched as he chased you. The richness of pumpkin pasties that melted over sticky fingers in the summer and your amber and vanilla perfume that had nearly brought him to his knees on the train, a scent so distinctly you, so intoxicating that he had to physically pull himself away from the cauldron to keep from putting his head into it.

He collected himself, glanced around quickly and strolled back to his seat where he spent the rest of the class trying to tame his heartbeat and the wild thoughts that ran through his head.

As the last breath of autumn swirled frosty air on the grounds, and everyone was focused on exams and the pending winter break, rumors swirled through the castle of plans for a winter ball.

The staff and professors had done a marvelous job trying to keep Hogwarts a safe haven and welcome distraction, doing it as much for the students as for themselves but they knew that everyone would soon be returning home for the holidays to face bitter realities, and it would be a gift to grant a night of carefree fun.

The afternoon the news broke to your house, the common room erupted and your friends quickly dissolved into eager chatter about dates and dresses. You were admittedly excited, but also at a total loss about who you would go with, though for just the briefest moment, the image of Draco’s smirk crossed your mind confusingly before you shook it away.

The excitement was so palpable around the ball that it didn’t take long for couples to start pairing off, everyone eager to find a suitable match so as not to be left alone. And sure enough, within a couple of days, Cormac McLaggen pulled you aside on the way out of Ancient Runes.

You knew him well enough from all of the Gryffindors you hung out with and the fact that he played quidditch with Ron and Harry. You had the same general group of friends but he had never pulled you aside to speak one on one like this before.

You tried to shoot Hermione a ‘Help Me!’ look as she walked by but she simply smiled and shot you a thumbs up before abandoning you.

“Y/N” Cormac started, getting your attention as you smiled at him. “I was hoping you might do me the honor of being my date to the ball?”

Your mouth ran dry and your palms felt clammy. There was really no reason to say no. He was perfectly lovely and honestly would probably make a great date, but part of you couldn’t bear to say yes.

You realized, suddenly, that you were holding onto the tiniest hope, the smallest possibility that maybe a certain blonde Slytherin would ask you. Draco's demeanor had certainly changed this term, and for once it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility.

“Can I think about it?” you asked kindly.

“Certainly” he said, his cheeks flushing crimson, whether out of embarrassment or something else you weren’t sure.

Your friends begged you relentlessly to say yes. Cormac was a catch in their eyes and they were sure to remind you of his many attractive qualities over the week. Needing a break from it all, you snuck into the library, to your favorite quiet corner: a sizable window seat with a view over the lake. You watched the snow fall gently, blanketing the world in white as you lay your head back, enjoying the solitude.

And as luck, magic, fate or something else entirely would have it Draco had had the same idea.

Exhausted of Pansy pestering him about going together and his friends agonizing over every new couple, he wandered into the same quiet corner of the library for a moment alone when he saw you framed in the large window.

The shimmer from the snow outside set your face in an angelic glow. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, deep in thought and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your lips, your long eyelashes that fluttered against your rosy cheeks, your hair, your everything. He realized too late his feet were moving towards you before his brain could register what he possibly had to say.

Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention as Draco approached you, clearing his throat and holding up his book by way of excuse.

“Looks like we had the same idea” he said.

You smiled at that. Your shared love of reading used to be one of your favorite things about him. You tucked your feet under you to make room for him and he sat facing you, but glanced out the window.

“This ball is driving me insane” he said after a moment’s silence.

Your heart felt like it skipped four beats at his chosen topic of conversation.

“Mm, yeah” you said, laughing quietly. “Everyone’s lost their head… it feels so… complicated.”

“Right?” he replied genuinely. “Like it should be so much easier to just pick a date and have a good time.”

You laughed again as you nodded in agreement and he turned to face you, meeting your eyes. Your knees were inches from his, and this was probably the longest time you’d spent in such close, prolonged contact with him; your body hummed and tingled in response. Your heart was beating so fast and so hard you were sure he could see it through your sweater and you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, nervous under his gaze.

“Y/N” he said then, leaning forward, placing a hand on your knee.

You could feel his strong grasp and warm fingers through your leggings. Was this really happening?

“Just – try to have a good time. Don’t let it get to your head. Don’t let anyone ruin it for you. I’m sure there are loads of good blokes lined up to take you. Just, have as much fun as you can.”

He looked like he was trying to say something more, but you couldn’t pick up on it.

His eyes flitted imperceptibly to your lips before he quickly pulled away, standing and righting his suit jacket before wandering back towards a darker corner of the library.

It was the best he could do. It was the most he could say without say it all. ‘Have as much fun as you can because next term, I am going to do something so unforgivable that neither you nor the rest of the world will look at me the same way again.’

It's the beginning of the end he thought, and you deserved so much better than the reality that was coming for you.

You felt like a fool for thinking for even a second that Draco Malfoy would be seen with you, a half-blood, on his arm in any public function, anywhere.

Later that afternoon, you let Cormac know you would go with him and he hugged you eagerly, the joy clear on his face.

By the time word of your date reached the Slytherin common room, Draco had resigned himself to go with Pansy, but that didn’t mean the news didn’t cut like a knife in his gut. Cormac was a good guy and a good quidditch player if not a little full of himself, Draco should be happy for you. But all he wanted to do was pout and scowl, which he did with practiced ease.

As the ball approached, the deep, overwhelming sadness and embarrassment you'd felt at your dashed hopes of a date with Draco simmered.

It simmered and it grew from pain and shame into white-hot anger.

Draco didn’t want to go with you? He didn’t want to be seen with you? Fine. You would go with Cormac.

And you would make Draco regret every waking moment of it.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ chapter three - coming soon!

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @sectumsempraaa @aur0ral1ghts @agent-tempest @etherealdarlin @digurcinema @revesephemeres

[rosetyler42]

Ericka: Well, as understandable as her motives were, she did try to kill a guy 5 separate times and is an accomplice to genocide. Granted she was raised and groomed into it, and she redeemed. But still.

Lucy: Her pranks and rebelliousness disqualify her there.

Simon: Mostly. Then again, he's Lucy's pranking sidekick.

Alice Angel: ....No.

Audrey: Honestly one of the more innocent of my Blorbos.

@lovelylivelyv 's Jack Nephalem: Welp...he IS a prankster and a rebel but he's got a strong moral compass. He's also had to kill but only to survive. So...like alot of Bendy characters, it's complicated. Fitting for a character who's half fallen angel and half devil.

Bill: HAHAHAHA, No.

Ford: ...I don't think he's a terrible person, and alot of what he did is understandable with the abuse of both Filbrick and Bill. But he definitely DID do some stupid and messed up things, including letting Bill into this dimension, nearly (and unintentionally) starting the apocalypse, ultimately choosing Bill over his best friend and leading to the latter's decline in sanity thanks to trauma, not standing up for Stanley so he wouldn't be kicked out, child endangerment, inventing mind control... He's definitely not innocent.

Fidds: Despite his tragic fate, he is responsible for memory gunning many people without their knowledge or consent, causing mass brain damage, using homicidal robots to deal with his problems, starting a cult, etc.

Mabel: While I don't think she deserves the vilification she gets and ALL of these are understandable, she DID end up starting the apocalypse, has a tendency to pick on Dipper, expressed desire to kill Bendin, accidentally trapped her brother with a monster to deal with his problems, tends to get more than she gives sometimes...she's a 12 year old kid of divorce and by no means is she a terrible person. But like Ford she's done some messed up things.

Mr. Ring-a-Ding/Lux Imperator: Oh, HECK no. Better at passing himself off as such than Bill, but no.

Shego: Oh, definitely not.

Meteora: ...Not really, although she had understandable reasons and I don't think she deserves the hate she gets.

Eclipsa: YES.

Coraline: Her biggest crime is being a bit too curious, kinda snappy, not listening much...but like she's an 11 year old kid who feels neglected.

Pomni: Not COMPLETELY in she knows curse words, drinks, etc. But she's definitely one of the more sweet and innocent characters. Esoecially compared to characters like resident Jerkass Jax and Queen of "I don't give a fuck" Zooble.

Caine: ....No idea.

Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[ninjakk]

Hello there hope you are doing well! ^^

Been following your blog for a while now & it has really helped me to understand the mdzs world specially wwx & lwj on a deeper level, but actually i've a question on my mind regarding mdzs that's bugging me for a while now. We know lwj loved wwx not because he's just charming & so bright & so full of love but because they share the same moral compass of righteousness & justice. So why didn't lwj followed wwx or at least went with him when he went to save the wen remnants. He didn't visit the burial mounds immediately after wwx was considered defected from his clan but they do meet after few months when wwx had gone for shopping & lwj was there in yiling for night hunt. Does it have something to do with his lan sect?

Hi Anon 👋🏻

I'm great thanks, hope you are also 🥰

Oh! I'm glad to hear you've been enjoying my blog posts and meta, it's always lovely to hear people appreciate them.

You've hit on a question that I have seen many fans ponder, and it's a really insightful one: Why didn't LWJ follow WWX immediately when he went to save the Wen remnants?

You're right that their bond is rooted in their shared moral compass, so it seems contradictory at first glance. Let's break down the reasons, keeping in mind the nuanced characterisations and the emotional context of their interactions at that time.

The Misunderstanding and Wei Wuxian's Rejection:

We need to remember two crucial things about their dynamic during that period.

Firstly, after WWX's three-month disappearance and his return from the Burial Mounds, there was a significant misunderstanding between him and LWJ. When they reunited, WWX perceived LWJ's concern about his new unorthodox cultivation method as disapproval. In reality, LWJ was deeply worried about WWX's drastic change in physical appearance and demeanour, recognising it as a sign of something profoundly wrong. LWJ had limited information and no way of knowing the trauma WWX had endured or, critically, that he no longer had a golden core.

WWX, understandably hurt and protective of his secret, immediately tried to keep LWJ at arm's length. He feared that LWJ, being as astute as he was, might uncover the truth about his golden core and that JC would then find out. Given this perceived rejection, LWJ felt he had no choice but to reluctantly back away.

Secondly, LWJ was highly reluctant to force anything on WWX, including his presence. He had previously tried to persuade WWX to return to the CR multiple times and had been rebuffed. There was also a deeply regrettable incident where LWJ, having lost control, forced himself on WWX, pinning him to a tree and kissing him without consent. This experience likely made LWJ even more determined never to coerce or force WWX into anything again.

With these points in mind, why would LWJ assume WWX wanted him there after being so clearly pushed away when he expressed concern? In LWJ's eyes, WWX had already refused his help by stating he wouldn't return to Gusu with him and deliberately putting a distance between them with his words.

Lan Wangji's Actions From Afar:

Instead of physically following WWX, LWJ did all he could to help him from "the other side", during clan discussion. He stood up for WWX when lies were spread about him disrespecting JC. He even pointedly questioned the hypocrisy of the clans, who were happily associating with former Wen supporters while condemning innocent people to labor camps simply because of their last names.

If LWJ had followed WWX when he crashed the meeting to find WN, in the agitated state WWX was in, they likely would have just argued. LWJ called out to WWX, but WWX, too focused on helping WQ, simply turned away. At that moment, WWX was primarily looking for one person. It was only upon seeing the extent of the horrific mistreatment of innocent people that he decided to rescue WQ's faction, knowing they had done nothing wrong.

The Visit to the Burial Mounds:

Later, when LWJ was "roaming" through the streets of Yiling, he saw WWX seemingly back to his usual self, flirting and teasing him as he had in the past. When LWJ made an impromptu visit to the Burial Mounds, he observed that most of the rumors weren't true – he probably never believed them anyway, as he knew WWX was a good person. He saw that WWX was genuinely protecting innocent people from condemnation and that WWX had people who truly cared for him. Once he'd helped with the fierce corpse incident and confirmed that WWX was okay, he quickly left.

It's indeed quite sad to consider that LWJ left the moment he saw WWX laughing and joking with the Wen siblings. It was almost as if he felt that since they cared for him and WQ was there for his health, there was nothing more he could do.

Character Development:

Overall, LWJ did the best he could while trying to respect WWX's wishes and give him space. This choice, unfortunately, most likely haunted him later because, in the end, it wasn't enough to save WWX, to keep him alive. While it wasn't LWJ's fault, we clearly see that if given a second chance, LWJ would not choose such a passive approach to helping him, even if WWX seemingly refused.

This is why, when he discovered WWX had reincarnated, he wasn't overly concerned about forcing himself onto WWX. Instead, he literally dragged him kicking and screaming back to the CR to protect him from a murderous JC!

This decision, to ultimately act in WWX's best interests in his second life, is a beautiful moment of character development. LWJ understands that sometimes, one must take drastic measures to protect loved ones. He also feels confident enough that he won't impose too much on WWX, including himself. He has learned to balance it out! The self-restraint he manages to summon when WWX is jumping into bed with him, trying to bathe with him, and teasing him – the same man who previously acted without consent – is truly incredible!

Conclusion:

So to answer your question - No, LWJ's actions had nothing to do with the Lan Clan. Even if they had tried to deter LWJ, he has always acted of his own accord, regardless of the rules. From an early age, he was defiant and refused to obey orders or rules if they conflicted with his own ideals. His actions were primarily driven by WWX seemingly not wanting or misunderstanding his help, and LWJ's own reluctance to force anything on WWX. He was doing his best to help while respecting WWX's space and autonomy, believing in WWX's strength and acting within the boundaries WWX had firmly placed between them.

In his second chance, LWJ didn't just passively lament his past actions; he actively learned from them and adjusted his entire approach. He now achieves that perfect, hard-won balance of protecting WWX while still allowing him his freedom, doing so by showing WWX he is safe with him and can trust him entirely, even demonstrating his comfort with WWX's use of guidao around him.

I hope this helps to explain why LWJ did not follow WWX when he went to find WN or impose on him at the Burial Mounds ☺️

[plutotunealouette]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again and again until I die: the love and care that the suitor squad all have for one another without any resentment or jealousy over lucy is really really special and important

[wispforever]

original quote under the cut

[ardate]

Every Boromir hater makes my enormous love for him grow stronger. Sorry you couldn't understand him, I get him tho and we're holding hands and the whole of Gondor is laughing at you

[handweavers]

when someone has it drilled in their head from childhood that they are a black sheep and an island and cannot trust anyone in the family other than their sibling and parents, that no one else will truly be there for them or love them as they deserve to be loved, trying to be the first one in the family to break through that and love them well and be someone they can trust is an uphill and thankless battle but it's worth it because i love them and i know they love me. "please let me lance that wound and clean it or it'll kill you" but they have to give me permission to do it and keep choosing to give me that permission. for both our sakes, because we need each other and cannot afford to not have each other. but these things cannot be forced. you cannot save people you can only love them. and so on and so forth

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

I love imagining a young Sarek meeting Amanda Grayson and instead of being like "oh I'm in love" he very logically decides "alright, now that I know this woman exists I will be wholly unberable if I do not have her in my life"

And you know what he's right