Tag Your Fav Writers Here To Show Some Appreciation!

recently got reminded of Jason’s “hello bed, hello pillow,” line and how deeply I feel that reflects his character and his longing. so here’s some yearning!jason because that boy loves deeply and profoundly down to his very soul. have I mentioned I love him? also once again the romanized arabic at the end translates to “my life” and it’s quickly becoming one of my favorite terms of endearment for Jay to use.

Thinking about Jason Todd and how deeply he yearns for you. He’s waited so long to be loved in the way he craves, has been so hungry for it that the ache in his belly has never really gone away. He’s been a wraith, a corpse, a man starving for affection and sweetness. And then you come along and change everything for him. How couldn’t he yearn for you? How couldn’t he long for you every moment that you’re not in his presence? Revere you and worship you every moment that you are?

Thinking about Jason Todd who treats you like something divine, something holy. He kisses the bruises you get from bumping into countertops or tripping along the crooked cobblestones in Gotham Heights. He ghosts his thumbs over your closed eyes when you lay down with him to sleep in the early hours of the morning. Jason Todd who holds you so, so close to him. He knows you run cold and he runs burning hot, so it’s only right that he wraps his entire body around you to keep you warm and safe. It’s proof to him that the two of you may be something fated, something that life and death can’t touch. How perfectly you suit each other. His fire to your coolness, his strength to your gentleness, his storm to your clear shining day.

Thinking about Jason Todd who clings to everything he’s ever loved and lost with bloodied fingers from how tightly he holds on. His fingers aren’t bloodied with you though. He doesn’t have to dig his nails in, bite down with his teeth, and force you to stay. You remain peacefully in his arms. You lie there content like you trust him, like you love him. That’s what makes his yearning all the more fierce—it’s returned by you. He used to doubt it, used to think he was unworthy and undeserving and that no one could possibly pick him out of all the people in the world. But you’ve stuck around and proved him wrong. So when he yearns for you, it isn’t with the pain of clawing into something bound to leave him. It isn’t with the bone-deep terror of loss. He yearns for you with the peace of coming home.

Thinking of Jason Todd who comes back from patrol just before daybreak. The sky is the same blue-green as his eyes and exhaustion weighs down his body. Still, his soul lifts when he sees what he’s been longing for for the past three hours. A warm bed, a soft pillow, and his heart snuggled up under the blankets.

“Hello, bed,” Jason says as he pulls his helmet off and sets it on the dresser.

“Hello, pillow,” he greets as he lays his gear on the balcony railings to be cleaned tomorrow.

“Hello, hayati,” he whispers with a kiss to your hair as he climbs into bed and pulls you into his arms.

Just…thinking about Jason Todd who yearns for you.

‼️‼️‼️‼️

The Post that Solved it All for me, PART TWO

NOT MY POST, MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 ON REDDIT*

What do I mean by this? Try this exercise with me. Think of your desired reality right now (bonus points for a first person perspective). You can even close your eyes and take a few seconds to think of it. You got it in your head? Now that you are in your desired reality think about the thoughts that you usually worry about when it comes to shifting (stuff like "it's not real" or "I can't do it" or "it's taking so long" etc). Thinking as your desired reality self now you are going to realize those thoughts are pointless because you shifted and you are in your desired reality. There you go, congratulations, you are in your dr. Every time you experience a feeling of helplessness or other negative feeling you are going to remind yourself that you have shifted already and creation is finished. Emotions do not matter and can never control you because they are physical sensations, a part of the 3d. The 3d that you don't care about anymore. You aren't going to ignore the 3d you just don't care about it anymore because you are in your desired reality. Why should you care? You already have your desire. You've shifted already and everytime you go to sleep you wake up in your dr, so why worry about whether this shifting attempt is going to be successful? Why even worry about the worry? Worrying is useless. You are not doing anything anymore except living peacefully knowing you are in your dr. You don't have to will away the emotions or thoughts. You don't have to do anything any more. It doesn't matter if you forget all of what I said in this post, and now you have gone back to panicking about nothing, because you are in your desired reality. You can breathe knowing that that doesn't matter anymore. No more worrying. No more heartache. No more anxiety. No more frustration. No more doubts. You won. You know what I'm saying. Say these things to yourself as much as you feel you need to, but fair warning learn from my mistake and don't look for proof of your manifestation in the 3d. Because you are in your desired reality, so why in the world would you see anything else? Whether or not you are using the law of assumption to get something you desire or not it is always taking affect and you can never stop manifesting. Unless that's your manifestation. But it's still a paradox because your manifesting no manifestation. Anyways that's it. This is what separated me from being desperate, obsessive, and discouraged to being a master shifter. Just remember that the law literally cannot fail you. If you are experiencing something it's BECAUSE you are accepting something NOT because the law does not work. It's as simple as that. Please ask questions, I want to help as much as I can. I know this is a long reply, but you can't give up when you've only just gotten started. If I can do it than you sure as hell can do it. And I know that doesn't mean anything to you most likely. But just trust me. :)

“like real people do” by hozier is so jason todd coded it has me writing purple prose at 1pm on a friday. i was listening to that masterpiece of a song and couldn’t stop thinking of jay’s childhood first love being there the night he came back. so out came this sort of au based on the ‘superboy punches reality’ version of his resurrection.

tw for depictions of jason’s torture and murder, his being resurrected and escaping his grave, reader’s severe depression and suicidal ideation surrounding her grief, heavy codependency implied between jason and reader, and general resurrection angst.

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn’t that how these things always go? Horrid cliches find unexpected ways of coming back to life. Much like the life that sparks suddenly within the boy in the casket. Black, dark nothingness becomes humid, suffocating air. He tries to sit up and meets silk-covered mahogany that traps him. The boy in the casket does not know where he is. He does not know who he is.

He remembers feelings. Something loud, bright, and hot that made everything go dark. Resignation, the urge to protect, forgiveness. The feeling of his skull cracking, his collarbone shattering under the blunt force of metal. The laughter the laughter the laughter it is driving him mad. The white hot pain of his legs snapping under the weight of the man that laughs. The guttural feeling of betrayal and fear. The smell of cigarettes. He is the sweet boy that wants his mother.

Hope, bright and incandescent. Rebellion and longing. Anger, angst, the horrible need to be understood by the people you love most. Ambition, pride, joy, encouragement; the warmth of family. He is no longer a fatherless son. Hope, wary but resilient. Fear, then relief, at the sight of the Dark Knight.

The boy in the casket remembers. He still does not know who he is. But he knows he has a father. He knows it because he is screaming for his father as he tears through the silk and scrapes the skin from his fingers against the hard mahogany. He screams for his father as he kicks through the wood, as the damp earth fills the enclosed space and steals the little air that remains for him to breathe. He is thinking of his father as he pulls his body through the hole he made. The jagged wood is digging into his side and he feels blood drip hot down his torso. It’s different from the wet cold that surrounds him and he focuses on that to stay cognizant. But the earth presses in and he is tired. He is so very tired.

He remembers something else. He remembers being tired once before, but he was warm then. He remembers being cozy under blankets. Innocent laughter and innocent kisses. The prettiest eyes he’s ever seen and the love that gleamed just for him shining within them. Then a voice. Melodic and beautiful and sweet as honey.

“C’mon, Jay, don’t fall asleep yet.”

You would not want him to fade back into the eternal sleep he just woke from. No. He cannot go back just yet. He tries to dig upward, but his body aches. The earth grows thicker, turns to sludge that drowns him. He shoves one hand over his face to claim a bit of air and is given a mouthful of mud instead. He chokes out one final scream. His head is getting fuzzy, lack of air making his skull feel cotton-filled and staticky. Still he digs up and up and up. But there’s no light. Just more earth. Maybe he does belong here. Maybe someone made a mistake and gave him a few moments that were meant for someone else. He makes one last push, that familiar resignation washing over him again as he closes his eyes. Then a hand wraps tight around his wrist and he’s showered in the cold midnight rain.

You have a secret. It’s personal and it’s abnormal and it’s yours. You’ve been sleeping on Jason Todd’s grave for the past week. No one knows. Well, Bruce Wayne knows. He must. His son’s grave is on his estate, after all, and the Bat’s security measures are the best you’ve ever seen. You don’t know why he’s letting his dead son’s girlfriend sleep on his grave, but you’re thankful he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

It’s been four years since Jason died. Four years and you still can’t accept it. You visit him every day. You bring him flowers and read him books and tell him about your life. You try to pretty it up a bit for him. You tell him about the new sundress you bought; it’s red, his favorite color. You tell him about the amazing bakery that opened up in the Heights and how you think he’d adore their chocolate chip cookies.

You don’t tell him that you’re so depressed over his absence that there are times when you go weeks existing only in your bed with sparse trips to the bathroom. You don’t tell him that you dropped out of college after your first year, that you failed in your joint promise to go to Gotham City University together. You just couldn’t handle it. The weight of your grief is already an iron chain around your throat, hooked to an eternal anchor. You didn’t need the pressure of perfect grades—an unshakeable requirement of your scholarship as you couldn’t afford to go to school any other way. You certainly don’t tell him that you’ve considered joining him, that sometimes that seems like the only thing you want anymore.

But it’s been getting worse. You miss him. Not in any way that’s healthy. At least that’s what you were told by the grief counselor your mother made you see. You miss him so badly that you’re sleeping on his grave come hell or high water. Tonight it’s high water. The cold rain soaks through your hoodie and sweats, but you don’t care. You’ve stabbed an umbrella into the ground and you’ve got an old blanket under you, so you’re all set. The bone-chilling cold of the water doesn’t matter. The way that it lures you to sleep doesn’t matter. Your body temperature is probably dropping and sleep to the freezing is deadly, but that doesn’t matter either. What matters is that you’re here with the boy you love.

You have another secret. This one’s worse, so terrible that you even scare yourself. You’ve been considering digging up Jason’s grave for the past thirty minutes. It started subconsciously. You didn’t even realize you were clawing into the ground until the grass was uprooted. You’ve made a good dent now, maybe six inches or so. It’s insane. You’re insane. But you ache to be close to him. Jason Todd took half of your soul with him when he was lowered into the ground. The better half; the half of you that was light and joyous and filled with love. You want it back. You want him back. You don’t know what you would do if you dug up his grave, but you know that you’d be closer to him than six feet.

You lie in the rain and contemplate why you’re here. You’ve missed him this fiercely every day for the last four years. It’s just this past week that you’ve been drawn to sleep on the earth above him. Like a moth to flame, like Ariadne’s golden thread leading out of the darkness of the labyrinth. Or maybe you’ve finally lost what’s left of your mind. You think you have when you hear noises from beneath the earth.

“Finally talking to me, Jay?” you ask.

Melancholy sarcasm is made weak by the way your teeth chatter and how your shivering leaks into your tone. But then you hear it again. It’s faint, deep below and muffled but it’s there. Then a thudding noise. Over and over and over. Your heart kicks to life. Adrenaline shoots through you and the cold seeped into your body melts with the heat of it. Jason is dead. He’s been dead for four years. But something is alive in his grave. Your hands sink into the small hole you’ve already made and you shovel the earth out in a manic rush. You dig and dig and dig. Your arms are elbow deep when you feel fingers brush against your own. You should be afraid. You should run. Instead you reach further, grasp hard around the wrist and pull. The ground gives way and your reality shatters in an instant. You’ve just pulled Jason Todd from his grave.

He’s bigger than you remember. His body weight is crushing as he collapses on top of you. (You’re smaller than he remembers. He has a crystal clear image of looking up into those pretty eyes and now he can barely feel you squished underneath him.)

He’s covered in sodden earth from head to toe. There’s blood seeping warmly from his torso into your red hoodie. (Your arms are caked in mud. Why? What were you digging for?)

Even with his difference in size—he must be well over a foot taller and at least one hundred pounds heavier—there is nothing that compares to the pure shock of looking into his eyes. Piercing gunmetal blue that you see every time you close your eyes is now a deep seafoam green. And yet looking into them you still feel like you’re home again. (Those pretty eyes are still the same. They still have that gleam of love when they land on him. But they’re also red and bloodshot like you’ve been crying. Please don’t cry. He doesn’t want you to be sad. He loves you. He doesn’t know your name but he knows that he loves you.)

You’re both as still as the memorial statues of Martha and Thomas that loom protectively beside Jason’s grave. Shock settles in.

“Jason. Oh my God. Jason, you’re—“ your voice breaks before you can say the words you thought would only come in dreams.

“Alive,” he croaks, voice dry and grating from lack of use.

He is alive. He is alive and breathing and with you again. You don’t know what caused this, why a dead boy crawled from his grave in the body of a man, but you’re not going to ask questions. The only answer you need is lying in your arms. Tears stream down your face, only differentiated from the rain by their warmth.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” you murmur into his mud-soaked hair as you cradle his head in the crook of your neck.

“Here,” he echoes. “Real?”

It doesn’t feel like it. His head is hazy and clouded but he’s starting to recall things. Like a steady trickle of water coalescing into a stream, into a river, into a flood. He remembers your name. He remembers stolen tires and bat ears. He remembers chamomile tea with a butler and stories of old theatre productions. He remembers how all the classic romance novels in his freshman English class looked just like the pretty girl sitting at the desk to his right. He remembers sweet giggles and shaky hands and soft kisses. He remembers. But he can’t speak it. He can’t find the words or the comprehension. He sees these things in flashes, feels them in his bones but he can’t make his mind and body catch up. So he lurches forward, stiff and clumsy, and tries to replicate the warmth of your kisses that have survived death itself.

You kiss Jason Todd for the first time in four years. You taste your tears, the damp earth, and the blood from where he’s bitten his own tongue. You have never tasted anything better because for right now it tastes like him.

“Real. We’re real.”

A sweet surprise and a gentle reminder. The other halves of your souls have been returned, and you are both allowed to exist again.

Didn’t know this was a thing but this community is in fact very vast so I just wanna put this out there

Nazis are not welcome on my blog

what’s the void state is not😐😐💀😹

what the void state is 😻😋🫶🔥

hi everyone! so i’ve been wanting to manifest a sp and i wanted to know if i’m supposed to do it in any certain way? i don’t know all that much abt how to do it or if there’s a specific way to, but if anyone knows how please lmk!

also… sp means special person, right? i wanna make sure google didn’t lie to me..

tbf he's gonna need it

!! ALERT!!! WE HAVE A MAP LURKING AROUND IN THE LOA COMMUNITY!!!! !!

Today, I was minding my buisness until @racheldavis1 DMed me and started asking stuff like "are you a boy or a girl?" At first I ignored it but after it got more weird.

She started talking more about having kids and whatnot, to which I responded with I'm a minor. So of course, I asked if she was attracted to minors. And, well...

So, block this person immediately. Report them too. They've been lurking in the shifting community, I don't want anyone to be at risk here.

-Sonnet T

♯ THINGS TO SCRIPT OR MANIFEST SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU CAN .ᐟ

no, none of this is "unrealistic". get out of that mindset. "logic" doesn't exist. there is infinite realities and possibilities, stop using this reality and is "norms" to dictate what's realistic in completely different realities. thank you & enjoy !

Being able to rewrite your own past however you want

Waking up with an entirely new, luxurious life overnight

Having a private island that only you can access

Everyone instantly forgetting any mistakes you’ve ever made

Being able to change your eye color at will

Books and movies changing their endings to whatever you prefer

Speaking and understanding every language effortlessly

Your handwriting becoming naturally beautiful in every style

Jewelry that never gets lost and always finds its way back to you

Your dream house appearing exactly where you want it

Having a completely unique aura that makes everyone drawn to you

Your reflection always showing the most flawless version of yourself

A personal stylist that appears whenever you need them

Never experiencing bad luck or accidents ever again

Your presence making every room feel magical and special

Always being at the right place at the right time for opportunities

Turning invisible whenever you want to avoid awkward situations

Any object you lose appearing right in front of you instantly

Every mirror you look into giving you the best lighting possible

People treating you like royalty everywhere you go

Doors unlocking for you without needing keys

Your dream wardrobe appearing in your closet overnight

Waking up with a completely new identity and background

Music changing its lyrics to match your life perfectly

Never running out of energy, no matter how little sleep you get

Your phone never running out of battery or storage

Everyone around you becoming instantly generous towards you

Always having exact change for anything you want to buy

Having your own theme song that plays when you enter a room

Getting VIP treatment at any restaurant or event without asking

People automatically assuming the best about you

bad weather stopping the moment you step outside

Having the ability to erase awkward conversations from everyone’s memory

A notebook where anything you write becomes reality

Every photo taken of you looking absolutely perfect

A personal driver who appears whenever you need a ride

Food and drinks never spilling or staining your clothes

Always finding the rarest, most unique items whenever you shop

Being able to pause time to relive your favorite moments

Every outfit you put together looking effortlessly stylish

Having a natural glow that makes people mesmerized by you

Flowers blooming wherever you walk

Doors always opening for you automatically, no matter where you go

Any candle you light creating the perfect relaxing atmosphere

Receiving random gifts from the universe exactly when you need them

literally…

I need moots that freak out abt there s/o as much as i do. i need moots who wanna talk abt their dr 24/7 cause literally sameeee. I need moots who have shifted and want to share their story times and their experiences. I NEED MOOTS😭