#Unconditional Guarantee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

laokim · 6 months ago

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aphroditeapprenticee

the void obsession is anti-neville, anti-law, anti-mental health, anti-well being, anti-manifesting, anti-everything. i hate it. it's all coming from the lack of understanding of the very fundamental foundation of the law. creation is finished. nothing and no one to change but SELF.

but, do you really understand that creation is finished? because if people did, i highly doubt they'd try to get into the void. creation is finished means you don't "create" anything. everything you can ever conceptualize is already created. if creation is finished, that means there is nothing to achieve, nothing to change, nothing to try, and nothing to fix. all you need to do is align yourself with that reality(state). you shift to that reality(state) in imagination/consicousness. that's literally it. here is a great post i highly recommend reading regarding the concept of creation is finished. If you're in your room right now, do you have to build a kitchen in order to be in a kitchen? no. you leave your room and go to the kitchen. because your house is already built. it's the same thing. you don't "change" your 3d. you leave your current state and move to your desired state.

the reason you're trying to get into the void is because you don't like your current life and because there are so many aspects you want to change, you're carrying the burden of changing the 3d on your shoulders, you're viewing the void state as something that will magically change and solve everything. so you're trying to get into the void so you can finally change the 3d. but again, nothing and no one to change but SELF. you're not changing the 3d. I need you to understand this, you're NOT changing the 3d. you're changing your SELF. when you change self, the 3d changes on its own because everything and everyone is SELF pushed out. i have no experience with the void, so i can't give you any advice on how to get into the void except for relaxing and just focusing on being.

but if i were you, I'd let go of the void. what is your obsession with the void helping you in any way? how long have you been obsessed with it? please let go of what does not serve you.

you're lacking. you're feeling lack. you're desiring. I suggest you scroll down my blog and read my other posts and replies to other asks. the very first step is to stop desiring NOT by suppressing your desire, but by fulfilling it all in imagination only. there is only fulfillment or lack, you have to make a choice. will you fulfill your desire in Imagination or will you continue to live in lack in imagination. in imagination, which is your kingdom, where all things exist and fulfillment is totally unconditional?

leave the 3d alone. i mean it when i say manifesting has nothing, i mean NOTHING, to do with the 3d. it's all about you. your inner self. you're not changing your face, you're changing your SELF. you're not changing your body, you're changing your SELF. you're not changing your bank account, you're changing your SELF. you're not changing your family, you're changing your SELF. YOU'RE NOT CHANGING THE 3D YOU'RE CHANGING YOUR INNER SELF (state of consciousness aka self-concept).

if you were my sister, i'd do anything to make you completely give up on the void state and study and apply the law instead. but, i can't do that to you because the choice is up to you. will you continue to do yourself a disservice by obsessing over something that doesn't get you anywhere or will you let it go and study&apply the law which guarantees the fulfillment of your desires?

your 3d doesn't need to be changed. no matter how horrible it looks, there is nothing wrong with your 3d. your 3d is perfect as it is. it's your consciousness. you have to change your consciousness, your SELF.

if you have time to obsess over the void, read neville. read edward art's series. You think manifesting is about changing the 3d. that's why you see manifesting as something that requires hard work, that's why you're obsessing over the void because you think the void will remove the "hard work" you think you should do to manifest. when you realize that all you need to do is literally just fulfill your desire in imagination only, you will no longer be interested in the void. the void obsession started last year. never have i ever once tried to get into the void. because to me, manifesting isn't about changing the 3d. it's all about my imagination/ consciousness.

if you want to take my advice, which i hope you do, unfollow every single void blog you follow. delete void information you wrote down anywhere. unsubscribe to every channel relating to the void. cut off every online friend you made talking about the void. let go of it. and i can guarantee you this much, if you focus on changing yourself in imagination, your results will show up in the 3d SO fast you'll be scared(in a good way).

it's up to you whether you're going to obsess over the void for the next 3 months and get nothing out of it but worse mental health OR spend the next 1 month on studying&applying the law and reap a good harvest, if you do, your results will be satisfactory.

Start tonight. start with at your command and the power of awareness. the law and the promise contains over 50 success story letters neville eceived from people. Read this series, his interpretation of neville's teaching is amazing and he also touches on subjects neville barely did that people may be struggling with. neville and edward art are the only teachers you need imo. debunk everything you know about the void and read what i linked above and apply. You will reap a good harvest.

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cherry-leclerc · 9 months ago

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stolen sweethearts ☆ cl16

genre: humor, angst, yearning, pining after three years so maybe slowburn??, fluff, second chances, whipped!charles

word count: 4.3k

Everything that leads to your wedding day and ends up with a knock on your door from your ex-boyfreind and an infamous letter.

req!...longer than intended, whoops! enjoy, anons :)

inspired by this !

“You’re making a mistake—”

Your eye twitches in the slightest, glossy lips curling into a snarl. “Shut up and be quiet.”

“What?”

Looking down at your boyfriend, dressed in Armani from head to toe and a blank expression, you wince apologetically. You grasp his hand tighter, knuckles becoming white, and smile widely, tears brimming the corner of your eyes. “Not you, honey!” A wet chuckle escapes when he visibly relaxes. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

The engagement party was a pleasant surprise, filled with congratulations and early wedding gifts. It also brought out a large group of your friends from hibernation. “Felicidades,” Carlos says with a teasing smirk. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you settle.”

You bit the air. “Ha ha. That was the old me. New me is a completely changed woman thanks to true unconditional love. It’s crazy, try it out some time,” you shoot back.

The Spaniard simply scowls and bows away, returning to his earlier conversation. You consider yourself lucky—as if you committed a successful heist and somehow got away with it. He was handsome, with bright eyes, dark hair, and tempting lips. There truly wasn’t a single flaw to your now fiancé. And if there were, no one ironically saw it but Lando.

“You’re making a—”

“Mistake?” you finish off his sentence, sighing and rubbing your temples. “So you say.” You were in the middle of ordering yourself another piña colada when he hounded you like a madman. The Brit blows out with a tired expression, as if he were giving up on all of humanity.

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.” Angling your head to aim a dirty glare, you silently flip him off as he uses your earlier words against you.

“Aren’t you tired, Lan? It’s been three years, let it go.”

The blue eyed boy musters a threatening look and then rips your sweet treat away from your grip, immediately claiming ownership. Your brows fly up with an offended scoff. He chugs it all down before shaking his curls adamantly. “No, I will not let it go. Bloody hell, you’re one stubborn gal—you can’t go through with this.”

For the shortest second, a ray of hesitance strikes your face when you spot your fiancé, happily indulging in a round of shots with Carlos, Max, and Daniel. The group laughs with amusement over something he says. Your lips wobble, turning back to your friend, shooting lasers. “Why not? And please don’t say—”

“Charles.” Somehow, even with the mention of his name, your world still manages to spin off its axis, alarming your remaining sanity. Last time you saw the Monegasque was quite the day, ending with regretful words and inferior decisions. Lando grimaces when you let out a shaky breath. “You know you haven’t gotten over him. And I can guarantee you that this…” He spins his index finger around the flashing room. “Will not make the difference you're hoping it will.”

Have you made your Christmas list? I told you I need it at least two weeks prior. I work well under pressure, but for God’s sake, honey, this is too much. Charles chuckles, cleaning his pair of Ray Bans against the hem of your skirt. You sigh.

Oui. Making his way over to his duffel bag, he retreats a crumpled up piece of paper. Oh, um, shit. The green eyed boy cringes with embarrassment, pouting modestly. You swallow the giggle sliding up your throat when he frowns furthermore. I swear I had it! It must've gotten crushed with all my stuff. You know what? Charles strolls over to the flight of stairs. I’ll just make a new one, give me a sec.

As soon as he leaves, you yawn, stretching out like a cat. You can’t help the fluffy feeling; Christmas always adds to it. But something about this one felt distinctively different and you couldn’t place the reason why.

Your orbs flicker across the dimly lit room before falling back to the thin piece of paper. Patting your palms on your thighs, you get up and delicately open it up, curiosity overflowing. It shouldn’t have mattered, he was going to re-write it anyways.

His calligraphy had always been messy, and yet you always—somehow—understood; from the start of his sentences to the final dot. But this had to be the one and only time you wish you weren’t so comprehensive.

I’ve been thinking about us

A lot recently, actually

I’ve had some thoughts over these past few weeks and

I think we should just end things.

You bat your eyes, already feeling the pressure forming behind, stinging harshly. Was this meant for you? For you to find? Had it been intentional the moment he pulled out the fucking note? Would he just not come back and was it all an excuse?

But he does. And his pale face answers all of your questions.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

Rage fuels within you as you briskly brush away the acid sliding down your burgundy cheeks, heat rushing through your body. What have I done? What the fuck is this bullshit, Charles?

The Monegasque instantly rushes over, trying to get ahold of the piece of paper. You rapidly pull it away and force a step back as you let out a wet chuckle. He winces at the cold sound. Why would you do that? Why did you do that?

So you’re not denying it? You wrote this? You knew he had, his writing was imprinted into your brain like a manuscript you had professionally studied endless hours.

His skin only loses more color with every passing second. I’m not trying to blame you! I did. I did write that—but that was so long ago, you have to believe me, and I can explain! He kneels down, silently pleading you to bless him with a spare minute. Just let me explain it all to you.

I never took you for a poet, you bitterly spit out as you continue skimming through the full page. You have a lot on your mind—a lot. Scanning his desperate state, you can’t help but let out a soft whimper, scrunching your nose.

I’m not, shit. He grips your thighs from where he is and lets out a set of shaky breaths. Do you remember when—

I don't want to remember, you let out. I just simply want to forget.

He can creepily hear the way your heart is breaking and how his follows along with every word, puncturing his soul. You don’t even notice his coming arm, taking half of the note away and you irritatedly pull back, causing it to rip in half.

That does it, bullying you down to the floor where you start to cry. Out of anger, out of betrayal, out of everything. The green eyed boy tries to soothe you, mumbling into your hair but you’re too busy zoning out that you don’t catch a single confession.

Leave.

Charles flinches; you can feel it as he presses close to you. What?

He almost doesn’t recognize you when you furiously push him off, crawling back with a sense of suffocation. Pain crosses his eyes as he watches you create distance. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you here anymore—leave.

Anyone who knows Charles would know that he never gave up. He either spoke down on himself and pitied for a while, but never ever gave up. So this was a first. A tough pill to swallow.

If that's what you want me to do, then…okay. He stands up firmly, but inside he’s terrified that his limbs might call out for the day. But I love you. So don’t ever ask me to stop. And he walks out of your life after evilly twisting the knife.

With a new note and ring box deep inside his pocket.

Despaired eyes flicker over to where Charles eases into a conversation with Carmen and George, occasionally clenching his jaw. You hadn’t invited him—that’s just absurd—but he had gotten word from blabbermouth Pierre and you didn’t have the solidity to say no. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

“Well I’ve got news for you, my dear friend, I love Hudson, so climb on board because this is happening…” Your voice trails off the second your ex looks up, as if he felt your eyes drawn onto him. Normally they’re dazzling and filled with joy, but the unfamiliar injured expression is like a punch to the gut. Your conscience calls you out on it, slapping you back into reality. Turning to Lando, you purse your lips tightly. “Who even is Charles?”

“God! When I saw Charles had showed up I just wanted to dig up a hole and never come out! Who would willingly go to their exes' engagement party?” Like a spinning top, you fume at Kika whose eyes shine at the sight of you, even after barking. “You should have warned me Pierre would do that. God, I hate that jerk sometimes.”

The Portuguese hums. “Me too…” You flick a questionable brow. Kika giggles, fixing your white gown, feathering it out like a dove. “I know, I should have! Bad friend, bad friend,” she childishly says. You can’t help rolling your eyes, returning your attention back to your reflection. “But if we’re being truthful here, someone should have warned Charles.”

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a quick sip of the complimentary champagne, she nods enthusiastically. “No one gave him a heads up. He thought it was just any other ordinary party—nowhere near a proposal.”

Your stomach churns, mortification taking over at the sudden report. Charles’ reaction was odd, but you couldn’t help filling up with satisfaction, climbing onto your high horse when you saw it. Never in a million years did you ever consider that being a surprise to him too. Hellooo? Coughing awkwardly, you swat her hand far away. Kika yelps.

“Yeah, well he deserves it.” You chug down the rest of her drink in a matter of seconds. Her wide eyes grow larger as she nervously giggles. “No one ever gave me a warning either.”

You were never one for being superstitious, but if anyone ever taught you something valuable, then it would be to never make contact with the groom before the wedding ceremony. He probably didn’t know any better—it of course wasn’t intentional—but that doesn’t stop your heartbeat from spiking up when you spot your fiancé sauntering over to where to stand.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss. Hudson furrows his thick brow. What are you talking about? I came to see you. You look fucking hot by the way. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shoo him, expensive jewelry clinking against one another. “Listen, that’s sweet and all, but you need to leave or else you’re going to ruin it!” You already did, the devil on your shoulder growls. You try relaxing, but can still feel the tenseness shifting between your shoulder blades. “Hudson, I’m dead serious, go.”

The stubborn brunette raises his arms in defense, mouthing a quick wow and walking back out. Were you being a tad bit colder than intended? Was there a better way to deal with the unwanted interaction? Yes. Probably. That’s what you tried to convince yourself because you knew the longer you pondered, the quicker you would realize that Lando was right.

You were making a mistake.

Charles isn’t any better off. He twists and turns the entire night, debating whether he should attend the occasion he knew would most likely make him flat line, but the curiosity definitely got to him. He always wondered what type of dress you would exclusively choose, perfect in every detail. Your hair, your heels. Your smile. Because they weren’t all the same. There was the kind that would sort of slip to a subtle, shy frown when he would compliment you, so he often saw lots of those. Or the kind that would cause your eyes to crinkle—he witnessed those when he would tickle you half to death, laughing loudly as tears would start to form. What he would kill to see you beam back at him once again…

But naturally, he talked himself out of it. What good does it do for him? The following morning, as he blinks strangely at the white wall, he starts to reminisce to himself. Like your first date—which was originally for both Carlos and Isa—but you both weaseled your way in. Or the time he taught you how to skate; only to remember he doesn’t know how to skate. He kept apologizing as the doctor secured your arm with a bright pink cast, but you only laughed, begging him to be the first to sign it. You were probably high off of meds, but still.

A peculiar feeling washes over as he spots an old shoe box. He almost dashes out of the arctic room when he realizes what it holds, but deliberately crunches down to open it.

And he knows what to do.

“He wants to see you,” Lily shrieks, peeking out into the hallway, then jumping back in. The teal dress was doing wonders for her skin tone, but you couldn’t help the agitation. Tell him I don’t want to see him. We have a whole lifetime to do that, you groan, slipping onto your heels.

Your bridesmaid clicks her tongue, widening the entrance as you hold back a much needed gasp. “I think you should tell him yourself…”

“I only need a minute,” Charles stammers, a thin layer of sweat coating his sharp nose. You’re too afraid to speak, so you robotically nod as you watch everyone scurry out, giving you two privacy. The twenty-six year old shyly gets closer, gently pinching a piece of paper in between his clammy grip. Your heart stops. “I walked beneath a ladder…on my way here,” he clarifies. You blink, long lashes fluttering like a fan. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”

If I had known you were this manly, I would’ve married you a lifetime ago. It slips out like a force of nature before you can stop yourself as your boyfriend halts from his task. The day was soon ending, late November, and you were both working together on painting the bedroom your dream shade. He had tried talking you out of it because it was simply—just white— but you had hounded him until he agreed. Now he stands here with a white coloring staining his dark gray shirt and you’ve never been happier.

Is that something you might want? Charles tries to play it cool, picking up from where he left off, lips itching into a goofy grin. To get married?

You’re almost glad he’s not facing you since you're as bright as a tomato. I won’t lie, I’ve definitely thought about it. You take a sip of water, suddenly caught with a dry throat. Could be nice.

The Monegaque flips around to face you, placing the paint roller down and strolling over to where you sit criss-cross. You visibly gulp; electricity slipping into the small room. It would be, wouldn’t it? His pink lips ghost over yours as you lean in a bit.

Yeah…

Could kiss you anytime I want… Kiss. Fuck you anytime I want… Another kiss. My fucking dream.

You moan against his touch, melting away like an ice cream sundae. I-I-I really think we could do it; be married. You had been together for so long now, you’re honestly surprised you hadn’t had this conversation any sooner. I would choose that exact same shade for my dress, you squeal, pointing at the wet wall. He hums. Not eggshell, not timid white—whipped cream, if you will.

Ahhhh, smart girl, he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. You practice this shit when I’m not around?

You laugh. I’ve been taught all kinds of tones from birth. My father was a painter himself, remember?

Of course I do, mon amour. He only created the best piece of art yet, he announces with a cheshire smile, watercolor eyes pointing down at you. You blush.

You’re such a klutz, you would probably do something stupid like walk underneath a ladder on our wedding day. You only do it every time, you say, wiggling out of his grip as he tickles you.

I swear I don't do that shit on purpose, it just happens, okay?

Pressing your nose against his, you cozily sigh. As long as we don’t see eachother until the actual ceremony, then I won’t be too upset.

Is that a promise?

You nod. That’s a fucking vow.

“You called it.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you chuckle when you nearly tip over. “Yeah, you’ve always been like that, but don’t think about it too much—it’s not like it’s your wedding.”

He clenches his sharp jaw. “Sure, but bad luck is bad luck, no? And I think I’m quite familiar with it.”

His words shouldn’t impact you so much years laters, but they do. Perhaps it’s due to his sorrowful stare, or his anxious tick, but it kills you just the same way it did that December night. You let out a light shudder, blinking away tears. “What do you want, Charles?”

“I wrote you a letter.”

God—a heartfelt note is the last thing you wanted and today was not the day to receive it either. Or ever. Not when it came from him. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that. I’m about to be a married woman in approximately an hour.” You narrow your neat brows, flawless makeup shimmering against the sunbeams. “What gives you the right to walk back into my life, get shit off your chest for your own sake, and just for you to do what? Leave?”

You’re not being fair; not completely, but you can't help it. For the longest time, you thought you were over it, but clearly not. Charles licks his rosy lips, closing the gap between you two. “This isn’t something I just came up with.” He extends his arm out. “I wrote this three years ago.”

You inhale sharply, suspiciously eyeing the white paper. Please, just read it. Back then you could never turn him down, as much as you tried…

And it appears like today wasn’t any different.

It’s almost hilarious to think about how much you cried on your proposal date and how much you are now. You were a light rain at best when Hudson got down on one knee, but Charles stands here, tall, and you’re a complete waterfall.

“Y-you were going to ask me to…” A headache comes rolling in as you let out a wet cry. “This isn’t true; it isn’t real. You wrote this today and came here to fuck with me.”

The Monegasque shakes his head in panic, blood painting his higher cheekbones. “No—listen; the first letter you found, I did write that.” You grimace. “But I swear I took it back immediately. It’s just that you were getting so much hate during that time, and you would always cry, and then you’d say you were never crying…You were in a really dark place. Do you remember?”

How could you not? You knew not everyone was going to love you for dating one of the top Formula One drivers, but you never expected to read such brutal messages either. They were descriptive, and cruel, and ruthless, and it crushed you more than you’d like to admit. Which was fucking stupid since there was always a rather large community that loved and adored you, and Charles loved and adored you—and yet.

You release a shaky breath, desperately rubbing your eyelids. Lily would probably throw a fit at your now snotty and smudged makeup, but you couldn’t really think too deeply about any of that right now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The brunette cradles your face and you hate when you lean into his warm touch. “I just wanted all of that to end; for you to feel better. And I could never actually say the words, so I drafted a letter, and I’m so fucking sorry, mon amour.” The tides crash inside your chest, getting harder to breathe. “It has been my biggest regret. Hurting you.”

He did more than hurt you; he broke you completely. Like a porcelain doll, like a trophy, like a mirrorball; it ruined you. But you know he knows that when his eyes slowly turn red. “But then I thought to myself, it doesn’t have to be that way! W-we could restrict comments, I could post something and stand up for the woman I love, and I could reassure her by vowing the most sacred thing there could ever exist…And I sat down and wrote this letter.”

If you thought Charles loved you before, then you’re a fool. He was utterly infatuated, devoted, obsessed and drowning in fervor. This letter may be old, slightly cutting loose around the edges, but it’s pinned as straight as can be. Not like the last.

“My only mistake was writing the first, and to even consider giving up on us. My best decision has been writing the second, and promising to stick by you the way I knew I was put on this Earth to do.” Charles carefully draws you in closer. “But I know nothing could ever fix the shit I’ve put you through, but I’m begging for the chance to try.” He kisses your temple and you relax against his lips. “I’m fucking desperate—just one.”

He slips out his original ring box and shines the gem back at you. It’s smaller than the one Hudson had given you, thinner too.

But it has you written all over.

A dizzy spell hovers over as you blink hastily. Charles doesn’t dare to breathe, waiting for you. “This isn’t…I just…” You bite your lower lip, glossy orbs flickering towards the band and then back at him. “Thank you for taking the time to apologize and clear things up; I really needed that, but I can’t do this.” You step out of his embrace, immediately freezing as if you were spending a winter in Iceland. His heart palpitates hysterically, green eyes skimming your features. “This isn’t what I had in mind—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” you press sternly.

“You’re right; it’s not.” Though you had just said the same, hearing him repeat it jams the knife deeper into your heart. You can hear chaos ensuing down the hallway, your friends chirping happily at one another. Contrary to what was going on in here. “It’s not because you can’t marry him. Because you know you don’t love him the way you say you do.” He laughs. “You tolerate him at best! I saw the way you avoided him getting down on one knee that day. You kept running off until you couldn’t anymore.” You burn up. “And who was the first person you looked for as he slipped that ring onto your finger? Me.”

“You’re paying too much attention to detail,” you retort, almost snarling.

“Sure, and that’s eggshell.”

It’s like a slap to the face. Your blurry vision focuses onto your dress for a second before snapping back up. “It’s whipped cream. The way I wanted.”

The Monegasque rolls his watercolor eyes, nostrils fuming. “Open up your eyes and see—It’s. Eggshell. Nothing about this is anything you ever dreamt of for your wedding! From your dress, to your ring, to your fucking fiancé!” He huffs. “This ring is all I could have afforded back then, but I would have sold my heart to get you a fucking star if that’s what you wanted…But you’ve always liked the simpler things. You always said you didn’t need a huge diamond to prove your devotion. Look at you now,” he says, signaling to your ring that swallows your hand whole. “All of this is fake.”

You’re sobbing now. You’re bubbling with anger. Because he was here, with you, out of all days. Because he was still the same man who broke your heart and stitched it back up.

Because he was right.

Brushing your nose with the back of your hand, you stare up weakly, defeated. “What do you want me to do?” you whisper, brows drawn together as he folds over completely over your goddess state.

“Don’t marry him and come with me.”

Though you knew that was what he wanted from the moment he walked past the door, it still knocked the last breath you held.

Things were never easy with him. There were constant fights—but that never seemed to matter by the end of the day. There was constant hate—but you always braved through it because you needed him.

And he steadied you. Charles was the first one to apologize, even if the majority of arguments weren’t his fault. Charles was the one who despite crushing his own heart, he wrote that letter to keep you untouched from his fans, from the media.

The letter hurt; like a motherfucker—and it would take a while to forgive…

But there’s no one else you would rather work through with it than with him.

Smiling softly, you nod, almost as if you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Charles lets out a heavy exhale, laughing as he hugs you tightly, leaving you like a fish out on land. But you’re giggling through it all. “I have to talk to Hudson first, oh God, I have to talk to his family…” you shriek, pale and mortified.

“You know,” he starts. “We could skip all of that and just—”

“No,” you coldly press. Charles’ brows fly up. “I have to do this.” Distancing yourself from him, you wobble to the wooden door before looking back at the handsome man who stands proudly with his neat suit. Butterflies expand freely. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

With a single hand pressed against his heart, he nods, as if you held the keys to all gates. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be from now on.” With that, you grin, eyes crinkling and exit the room.

What happened to your makeup? Lily squeals when she spots you running down the hallway, tripping over her tall heels as Alex catches her. There better be a reasonable explanation to this!

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @val-writes

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popponn · 9 months ago

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boyfriend hcs | isagi yoichi.

notes: im done pretending to be sane. "things and hcs about isagi yoichi" post because world hard and cold isagi yoichi soft and warm. this time, really mean it when saying no brain just isagi big love. please don't look at this too closely, other than that: no warning.

the "natural rizz" type who is honestly not really good at being purposefully suave. if he tries, it will either go boyfailure route or cute babygirl route. if he doesn't, it's a full package bf who will get your whole family & friends' approval.

at first, he tries really hard, but the moment you get him to calm down and kick the nervousness away, you will get: casual affection, unconditional support, a cuddly & clingy bf on weekends, etc.

looks at matching keychains once and the metavision is telling him it will be cute if you two have that.

he seems like the type who is not obvious when he is in love. at first. the moment his friends accidentally stumble upon your dates and see his smile, his smile is fooling no one.

somehow could make the most mundane unromantic activity cute as long he does it with you. accidentally. somehow.

when he starts dating you, his clothes will reflect your taste because: 1) he will shop for those clothes with you and ask for your opinion; 2) if you are a sane human with a bare minimum level of taste you should know his fashion sense level is in minus already—please do a favor to mankind and get him away from that neon orange trousers and bright green jumper; 3) he just wants to see you happy; 4) despite his humble look and usual demeanor, he likes showing off that he has you and you have him.

doesn't mean he can pick your clothes. do yourself a favor and think thrice or ten times if he suggests clothing or god forbid a mix match. love makes people dumb but it has to have a limit. your man is not trustworthy in the style department.

getting his parents' approval should be the least of your worries. his blue lock fellows and noel fucking noa should be your concern. good luck, high chance you have to verbally fight people like michael kaiser and barou shohei.

your phone is guaranteed to have at least 5 country clocks in it because yoichi is an international sensation. and when he is not busy practicing, you barely leave his mind at all.

it ranges from "oh, they will like this as a gift" to longingly gazing at his phone because while he is an understanding & secure attachment-style boyfriend, it doesn't mean he can bear with you not contacting him for three days. call your man. text him.

his favorite songs will be that cm song and whatever you often listen to around him—"it just sticks". his favorite movie will be totoro and your favorite movie. attachment and fond memories are the main driving force for his favorite stuff.

is pretty independent and self-sufficient that is not clingy most of the time. unless when he is sleepy. he hugs his pillow when he sleeps, now that he has you get ready.

if your main love language are acts of service and words of affirmation, it will be an instant match. "i do this for you, you do this for me" without any talking needs to be done, just like second nature. and he likes to be praised.

in case of quality time and physical touch, it will take some time to get used to, most probably. while he clearly enjoys time with his closest ones, isagi also enjoys his alone time and thinking time too. and he used to be a shy boy who doesn't share touches with people much. but believe in his adaptability, as long as the parties involved are willing to figure this out it will get figured out.

made a whole post about this once like a besotted fool, but is a really good listener who likes listening to you. it's like you "giving him a piece of you"—especially if it is a part of you that you don't share much.

please do listen and try to figure him out though. moving on soon and focusing on the present's solution is good but in some cases, it really might lead to what people call "pent-up emotions". isagi doesn't enjoy looking or being "weak", but really understanding the emotions he doesn't say out loud will benefit both of you in the long run.

keep the balance in everything—because isagi as understanding and adaptable as he is, still sometimes has a lapse in judgment.

before this gets into angst territory let's stop here. moving on.

is canonly described as poetic in one of exhib dialogues—which means this man is scientifically proven to be cheesy as hell.

sheepish, boyish, cute, sometimes nervous, very boy next door yes. but when he is in the moment, aka the romance flow is kicking, get ready for the most heartfelt, the most sincere profession of love under the sunset. an "i'm glad you are in my life", an "i will happily choose you again", etc.

learn to kick a soccer ball if you can't. 1) good for self-defense; 2) he sometimes brings the ball to sleep and if you don't want it, really think of it as self-defense. (not kidding, check his PWC sprite and that one sleeping anime official art merch)

at first gets bashful at pet names, but if someone makes fun of him—especially during a match—that's just asking for it.

remember his habit of being unable to say "no"? In a very loving manner, it comes back in full force with you. he will spoil the hell out of you even when you don't ask him to. what you want, isagi will get.

you have to be his #1 supporter. because he is yours. sometimes he can give advice and help for you, sometimes he can't. but if anything, he will always be there.

has a soft spot for you smiling while hugging something. in other words, while his gallery is full of your photo with plushies, animals, etc—the number of mirror selfies with the two of you hugging each other is enough to make anyone blink in astonishment.

if someone badmouths you or tries to harrass you, oresagi aka on field persona comes out without any hesitation. and while isagi's appearance doesn't come in the most intimidating form—we have seen him. hold him back, please.

even after everything, is honestly a pretty simple guy who thinks a simple breakfast with you worth much more than expensive dinners. home dates with him is always the coziest thing on earth, no matter whether under a sunny sky or rainy clouds.

when he is dedicated to you, he is dedication itself. certainly still have to do pr and fanservice when he meets some fans in the street, but before he leaves he will always squeeze your hand like asking for permission and he always does it with such efficiency that some of his friends wonder if he is trained to return as quickly as possible to your side. (yeah. isagi values efficiency and like how he wants a goal, he wants to enjoy his date with you.)

comfort hcs tho, when you feel insecure or down in some ways talk to him. he might pick up the bad mood but he isn't the type to try and overstep when you don't want to tell him. and as said before, he is a really good listener who is always there for you, so it will really do you good.

sometimes protest but he loves it when you play with his hair one way or another. ruffle it, pat it, style it—do as you wish. bonus if you are in front of him, in his lap, in the comfort of your shared abode. clingy isagi coming out again.

he hugs in the same way he kisses. they are long and heartfelt. one could use "passionate" to describe them, if it isn't for a certain chaste-esque mannerism that is almost always there.

the only time it is not is when the two of you are in private but because this is a family account. not going there.

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sirfrogsworth · 3 months ago

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If you believe in God and live in a Western Christian nation, he will reward you with "very few" starving babies.

How exceptional!

Like, on the spectrum of starving babies to full-bellied babies, starving is *mostly* off the table.

God can't guarantee a 100% no-starving rate at this time. That would require miracle-level intervention and He really prefers to reserve that kind of action for imprinting images of his mother on food.

For a limited time only, if you elevate your belief tier to Unconditional Faith™ then God will upgrade your babies to the slightly hungry program.

They won't die or anything, but the lack of nutrition could cause some developmental issues. But don't you worry, God used divine inspiration to help a tech bro invent GoFundMe. So you should be covered.

Now, the Full Belly Babies tier does exist, but it requires entering a secret society of assholes and I'm afraid the barriers for entry are a little... chaotic. No one really understands how you access this program, and from the outside, it seems pretty random.

I mean, it's definitely not dependent on merit or intelligence or ethical behavior!

Yeah, thumbs up!

But I can assure you all of the millionaires and billionaires were not just some fluke of capitalism. God chose them because reasons and that's all you need to know.

Questioning God is how you get starving babies.

Whoops, I don't think I was supposed to reveal that.

No matter. I'm sure I'll be fine. He hasn't smote anyone in like 2000 years. This is the friendly New Testament Era God. All of his cruelty manifests through inaction rather than temper tantrums.

Fuck, I wasn't supposed to mention that either.

If my house floods or I develop leprosy, rest assured that is just a coincidence.

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hwaightme · 11 months ago

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With you

(masterlist) (taglist)

🫂 pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🫂 genre: comfort, healing from hurt, established long-term relationship, fluff 🫂 summary: even when it feels like the world is crashing down, seonghwa was, is and will be with you. 🫂 wordcount: 2.3k total 🫂 warnings/tags: not edited, implied work challenges, clutter, focus, negative self-perception, crying, negative self-talk, catastrophising, physical/mental health, hugs, sharing struggles, unconditional love, supporting loved ones in darkness, feeling overwhelmed, love does not have a limit or price 🫂 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🫂 a/n: this one was in the drafts, and now completed in a flurry, perhaps having waited for its time. hope you find comfort in this, and have love and your safe space. any notes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated. much love.

Sometimes, people said it was “not their day” - much like a sudden downpour. Sometimes, they could even say that it was “not their week” - much like a rainy season. For you, well, for you it was starting to turn into “not your life” - a perpetual cacophony of droplets pelting down and taking you with them. Perhaps when you were a child you did not pay much attention to your habits and your natural pitfalls, but as you entered adulthood and launched yourself headfirst into the corporate workforce to play the role of a diligent office worker earning your share and volunteered to take more and more responsibilities in every aspect of life outside of nine to five, cursed quirks were becoming harder and harder to ignore, or rather, to hide.

And this was exactly why you had found yourself in the darkness of your room, wanting to be abandoned by the world, staring at the ceiling and only seeing your mistakes and what had to be overreactions that were accumulating into a colossus faster than a snowball rolling down a hill. Nothing was right, and every single time, you were the one to blame. You couldn’t even change out of your work clothes into what, in your happier times, you called your favourite pyjamas - maybe it was because you were afraid to ruin them too. A rational thought? No. But it somehow ended up making more sense than the bingo card of emotional rollercoaster-inducing nightmares that kept on being filled out.

You did not want to count the minutes, possibly hours that you spent suspended in your own dread and misery. The time must have been considerable, since you could hear the turning of a key, and the slow opening of the front door to welcome none other than the subject of one of your present flavours of despair. Anticipating disaster, you curled up into a ball on the cold, now messy bed, and tried your best to force any tears away. Sleeves rubbing at wet cheeks and eyes, you did not want your boyfriend to see you like this. Weak, helpless, broken. Worn down into nothing more than the clumsy disappointment with medical bills and chaotic thought processes you actually have been all along. What a tragic ‘big reveal’. Absorbing everything around you and spilling out everything brewing within - you should have trusted those who had told you that you would make anyone and everyone run away. Who would want someone who couldn’t sort out their own messes before making another? Who would be able to stand someone who could barely last a day before ruining a piece of clothing, losing or breaking something, and on the better days almost guaranteeing a stain in the oddest place or some kind of trail of a sloppy existence? How could anyone rely on you when you could not even sort out your own noise?

With a trembling lip, you watched scenarios flash before your sore eyes of how Seonghwa would undoubtedly hate you. And when you heard a sigh travel from the corridor and crash against your eardrums, you knew that at the end of the day, all those people who had been saying the same thing over, and over, and over again to you were right. Until knuckles were starting to turn white you clutched at the material of the throw that had been lying on top of the sheets - without a doubt a protective measure, and here you were, ruining things. Never in anyone’s plans, you were an elephant in a porcelain shop. An elephant who should be put far, far away from anything human. An insensitive crybaby who both physically and mentally represented discord. You couldn’t even-

“Y/N, how many times did I tell you to not leave your shoes at the-”

Here. It. Was. The end. It had to be. It had to be the grand finale to what sliver of happiness you had left in your life. The little bit of festive cheer was already starting to evaporate, you could sense it. Soon, he would utter the words you had imagined many times. Soon, you would be alone and lonely. Soon, you would be where you were supposed to be according to what others established you deserved. You couldn’t breathe, with your back turned to the door, you could only sense your boyfriend’s presence, and catch the hint of a shadow falling over your frail, exhausted form.

“-Y/N?”

You did not dare answer, no matter how sweet, or how supposedly concerned Seonghwa sounded. He could be coaxing you out of your cave to scold you, or better yet, recite all the words you despised, but had grown used to hearing. The only thing on your mind was the thousand things you managed to ‘achieve’ today. One of them included those shoes.

“Hey… talk to me,” voice more gentle, barely above a whisper, floats across the room and practically caresses your head. You couldn’t move. He would be disappointed even more if you were to do anything. You should pretend you were just a pile of laundry, maybe then it would all stop and you wouldn’t be out here losing buttons, breaking baubles and scratching up perfectly good heels.

You sensed a dip on the bed. A warm presence. Your boyfriend scooted closer to you until you could feel him leaning over towards you, his chest hovering just above your side. The most impossible feat in the world was to hide yourself from him, but you could not help but try with all your might. A shiver jolted over your body despite you still being in a woollen sweater, resulting in a familiar, loving hand finding purchase on your upper arm. The thumb traced abstract shapes in a soothing motion, and soon enough, you were being turned a little ways backwards. Face to face with fear, you felt the tears that had stalled in a panic threatening to spill over once again.

“Have you… have you been crying?” despite being in the semi-darkness, the glistening trails on your cheeks must have given you away. One peck, another delivered by Seonghwa’s plush lips while a soft hand positioned itself on the side of your face, preventing you from hiding yourself, “...oh baby please, tell me, what happened?”

Your eyes bore into his, not dissimilar to a deer caught in the headlights, as though you had been spotted committing a crime. While you had been in a relationship with a man who you swore was an angel for a considerable amount of time, so substantial in fact that you had a shared lease under both of your names like proper adults sometimes decided to do, there was one thing that you could not bear to do - burden him with your troubles. You could not allow yourself to complain, instead choosing to bottle up all the miniature disasters into one catastrophic potion, waiting until it bubbles over and only then crawling towards salvation in the form of a long shower where no one could hear you cry. It had to be you who was wrong, anyways. It was always you. Even in things that were meant to be outside of your control, you felt guilty, repeating this to yourself until illusion became fact.

It was always you who had forgotten to take something out to defrost or had not checked the mail again. Always you who had not put some abstract item away, or you did but not in the right place. Always you who had not found the energy or the time to clean something or to water the plants. It was you and your family and your friends who had to untie Gordian knots, and you were the weakling who cried, and cried and cried while others seemed to be able to stand tall and face any challenge. In the inevitable times of a storm, be it your own or another’s you were the thin and hollow piece of straw that was bent in the wind and all the previous beauty crumbled to join the rotting ground. Your inner voice was loud and hurtful, blockading you from believing in anything else except the fact that you could not handle a simple twenty four hours. A tiny piece of news, a tiny little change be it in schedule or tone, a little hurdle all had the capability to ruin you and make you fall, leading you to how you were now. Did you try to manage? Of course you did, always. Was it enough? Never.

“Hug?” There it was. An offer that could never be refused. Perhaps this was the last ever time you would be allowed to come so close to the love of your life. Heart to heart, the delightful, comforting scent of vanilla being the only thing on the senses.

With a quick gesture, Seonghwa encouraged you to roll over completely, and lift yourself so he could wrap his arms around you, as though sheltering you from a storm. His chin nestled into the crook of your neck, and he tightened his embrace until you had no choice but to give into the comfort. Tired body and mind, unwinding at his touch, falling apart only to be rebuilt again, better, brighter, warmer. The long-awaited spring. Legs folded, you wriggled to close whatever space was left between your bodies, grabbing a fistful of his black turtleneck sweater as though to confirm that this wonderful man was real. Indeed, he was. More than real. As real as the kiss he planted on your cheek. As real as the reassurance that poured from his soul without any words uttered. Well, none except:

“Let’s walk through it, okay?”

Your head - fuzzy from the overflowing tears and emotional haze. Your eyes, puffed up and reddened. And even then, Seonghwa was looking at you as though you were the one to hang the moon and the stars. How could you dare disappoint him and bring him down by being such a disaster? You could feel another burst of terror and despair welling up and threatening to spill over, and it appeared that your boyfriend did too, for the speed with which he pressed you impossibly close to himself was beyond your comprehension. It was as if he was trying to squeeze every bit of pain out of you, sorry that you had to feel what you were feeling, sorry that he could not take it away.

“I’m with you, Y/N. I’m always with you…” soft whispers - sharp swords on your dark consciousness, slashing at the demons that had been rearing their ugly heads again and again for however long. You had stopped counting after a couple weeks, pretending that they could be kept under control. Again, how wrong you were.

He was neat. Seonghwa was borderline pedantic at times, but you were convinced that that was the exact reason why the walls of your home had not come down yet. But, if it meant that you would be calmer, and you could see more sunshine in your inner world, he would let you cry into every single sweater, every single shirt, and would never dare let you go. If there was one thing he was infuriated by, was by whatever or whoever had ingrained in you that hiding was the same as powering through.

“I’m done, Seonghwa… I’m so tired…” you sobbed into the warmth of his chest, allowing for everything you had been holding back to flow through and out of you.

“We’re together, so we will make it through. Through everything. Whatever happens, happens so that the future can happen. We will power through it,” he repeated the words like a mantra, aware of the turmoil that he had to combat to get to you, but was going to never give up trying.

“I feel… so small…”

“We can do it,” he cut you off, planting another velvety peck on your head before rocking gently side to side, running a hand over and over again down your back.

“So… so small…” the words disappeared, swallowed by an indescribable void that came with the onset of fatigue.

“I love you so much, Y/N. You hear me?” How could he? This was a question you would never be able to answer, but you thanked every part of the universe for giving such a blessing to you.

“I- I love you so… so much too…”

“So you and I, right now, we will lie right here, breathe, and then put all of the little pieces in order okay?”

“O-okay.”

“We share everything. Mhm?”

“Everything…”

A silence. Pangs of fatigue and worry about everything under the sun were not yet abating, but were becoming easier to manage as you focused on Seonghwa’s steady breathing, and the rhythmic thrum of his golden heart. You pulled away, admiring every part of him, not wanting to focus on anything else. You drifted into a trance, sinking deeper and deeper into his adoring gaze, unbroken. His hands found yours, thumbs tracing your skin in that same lulling way. You watched his lips as they let another miracle wash over you:

“I am so happy that I am with you.”“Even-”

“Especially. We. Yeah? We. And because we are ‘we’, we will make it through everything.”

The words echoed in your mind as you gave the love of your life a tiny smile. Your person. The one who was always on your team, even when you tried to delude yourself into thinking the opposite. He was here. With you. Through all the downs, through all the ups. When you know what is happening and when you need a little more time to figure things out. You and Seonghwa are here and will be here. Together.

🫂 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @starrysvn @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

thank you for reading. please do consider leaving a reblog if you enjoyed!

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ezralva · 7 months ago

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Can't help but notice another pattern of theme that has been written here about JJK's love and curse theme.

Yuuta's pure love for his childhood friend turned Rika into the Queen of Curses but also that pure love was what broke Yuuta's boundary and fully optimized his power (defeating Geto) and broke the curse itself.

Gojo's love and respect for his former best friend made him unable to cremate Geto's body, later on that very same body he saved, turned into his curse that caused his downfall at Shibuya and got him sealed, something that never happened before to the formidable Gojo Satoru after he became the strongest.

Sukuna once said 『愛など下らん』 meaning love means nothing/trivial thing. Yet he finally released his most powerful CT, that Uraume said would guarantee their win, and it was aimed at none other than Yuuji directly, only to be tanked by Choso's true act of unconditional love in protecting Yuuji, rendering the King of Curses' ultimate move didn't even touch a hair of his mortal enemy, the one he wanted to kill the most.

All these different representations of love being shown in powerful ways (be it ended for good or bad depending on perspectives) make for interesting comparisons.

#jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu #rika orimoto #gojo satoru #geto suguru #choso #yuji itadori #sukuna #choita #satosugu

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queerstake · 3 months ago

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Good morning, Queerstake! Thank you to everyone joining us for our community fast and letter writing campaign in response to the 2024 Church Handbook update with regards to transgender people. The policy update has shaken all of us. It is exclusionary and degrading. But we will find strength in each other as a community and courage in our efforts to effect change in this church that belongs not only to the General Authorities who authorized this policy update but also to all of us. Change in the Church happens from the ground up. Harmful policies have been issued and redacted before in our own lifetimes! We deserve to be treated with respect.

Today, we will fast together as a community that the Lord softens the hearts of the First Presidency. We will also write and send letters expressing our grief. Please don’t be quiet about your feelings today. Share your heartbreak with as many of your fellow ward and Queerstake members as you feel comfortable doing. Please post your feelings as well so we can inspire and uplift each other as we write our letters. It’s important that our grievances are heard.

Please send physical letters to:

The Office of the First Presidency

47 East South Temple Street

Salt Lake City, UT 84150

If you are unable to send a paper letter to Salt Lake, because I was not able to find an appropriate email, please instead email your letters to me at [email protected]. I’ll print and mail them myself.

Edit: @nerdygaymormon found an email address! Please feel free to send email to [email protected]. However, you are still more than welcome to send them to me to print. In fact, why not do both!

A quick word of caution: Of course, no one can guarantee the type of responses we might receive for these letters. In fact, I urge you to consider using a pseudonym in order to avoid potential church discipline. Please take care to note what legal name or return address might be associated with your membership records. I don’t want to scare anyone, especially because we’re doing nothing wrong, but it’s always good to be very aware of what might make it back to your bishop.

Thank you again to everyone for joining. I’ve always felt so supported and uplifted by Queerstake. I know that our Heavenly Parents love us just as we are and that they don’t want us excluded and humiliated in our wards. We have unique and valuable testimonies to share. We don’t go unheard by our Heavenly Parents.

I’ve included a few sample letters and templates below the cut for people who might need a shortcut for one reason or another. You are welcome to send them verbatim or modify them.

Dear First Presidency,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people.

I believe that Christ invites all to come unto him and that as Christ's church, we have a responsibility to embrace people from all walks of life. No other demographic within the church is being treated with such severity as our transgender siblings under this new policy. I fear our transgender siblings in Christ will feel excluded and degraded, and we will lose many great members.

I believe it's of the utmost importance that we express Christlike love and charity even to people we don't understand. There is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in our bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and Christ would want us to reach out to them with open arms. I humbly and respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of our transgender siblings in Christ and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

Thank you for your time.

Dear First Presidency,

I feel deeply grieved by the Handbook update on transgender people. As a transgender member myself, I am doing everything I can to remain in the church and exclusionary policies like these make me feel deeply unwanted and deeply unloved.

I understand very well the church's position on gender, but I hope that despite that position that I might still be able to feel Christ's love at church. Our Heavenly Parents put me on this or Earth as a transgender person. I am not a danger to children and I am not a predator in bathrooms. I am your sibling in Christ. I want to serve in church. I want to serve in teaching positions. I want to serve the youth. I believe that we attend church with the purpose of uplifting each other and studying our religion together as a ward family. I want to be edified and I want to edify.

President Hinckley said every member needs a calling, a friend, and the word of God, and if I'm treated this way at church, I'm not receiving any of those things. If I can't have a real role to play within my ward, then I have no responsibility. If I am treated as an outsider and an enemy and a predator by policy and by my fellow church members, then I don't have a friend. If I can't also receive Christ's gospel through the love of the people around me, then I'm not receiving the real word of the Lord.

I seriously urge you to reconsider this policy update. I beg you on behalf of myself and my transgender siblings in the church to not hate us and to not exclude us.

Thank you for your time.

Dear First Presidency,

I felt ______ when I heard about the new policy update to the handbook about transgender individuals. I believe we should treat our transgender members with the love and respect they deserve as our siblings in Christ.

I urge you to reconsider this policy update because ______

Thank you for your time.

Dear Leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people, which I have been made aware of due to the negative impact it is having on my [friend(s)/family/loved ones].

The reputation of love, kindness, and family values that your church fosters with its programs, teachings, and community outreach is undermined by your continued exclusion of LGBT+ members and specifically with this policy change of your transgender members.

My [friend(s)/family/loved ones] have expressed _____ in regards to the August 19, 2024 changes to the handbook that relegate transgender members of your church to second-class citizens within the organization, and deny them the full capacity of worship and belonging within your church; all because of something so insignificant to their capacity to worship and belong to a community as their gender being different than the gender that they were assigned at birth. This decision _____ me/ negatively impacts my view of your church.

Thank you for your time.

I believe that there is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in your bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and I believe that every person needs to reach out to them with open arms. I respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of your transgender members and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

#queerstake #tumblrstake #Mormon #lds

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