#i was so lost until you came and found me

[mey-rin-is-fabulous]

None of that is lame at all and don't stress too much things get so much better after highschool and what happens in highschool doesn't matter no matter how much they want you to believe it does.

I do not miss highschool drama class at all. Like in grade 10 and 11 it was fine but my last year was awful mostly because my teacher sucked. It was so bad I walked out twice on days we had a supply because we were writing our own play and class was unstructured AF as a result.

Like there wasn't much for drama unless it involved me as far as I know.

The most bullcrap thing to happen was I lost my role for our end of semester play because I walked out.

I told our supply teacher I was going to the bathroom for 10 minutes(which I stuck to), we were playing an improv game and I didn't want to because last time I played this game with three people I wound up standing off to the side(improv isn't my strong suit and I'm really bad at it) I tried to explain why I didn't want to but I had three people all talking at me at the same time and so I left.

Came into class the next day and got told oh by the way we gave your role to Amanda(actual name redacted) no chance to explain my side of what happened. And as a result I wound up getting a role that was all adlibbing not in the script at all because they needed me to do something.

So off I went to bawl because I was alone and no one bothered to speak up for me. And that was basically how my last year went.

Same year I had a grade 9 tell me to act like an adult because I was using my friend as a crutch because I had two sprained ankles. We were on a field trip across the border. Look you try walking on two sprained ankles(tripped on a crack in the sidewalk after falling off a high step) after sitting on a bus for hours after sitting in a concrete stadium for like half an hour after a day of walking and then see how I felt(that's aimed at the grade 9.) And oh my god hearing my teacher say I was walking better once we got back to the school made me incredibly mad on top of me having to wait like an hour for my dad to show up to get me.

My last year of high school probably would have been okay if I didn't have that stupid teacher for the only classes I cared about. Yeah I had issues with my other teacher but that was a result of my own issues.

There was also this one teacher who was friends with the previous drama/music teacher who absolutely hated me.

She got mad at me once because I didn't want to walk around talking to people( I have anxiety and I get claustrophobic) she ran a co-op class and had the students do a career fair type thing and invited other classes to walk around and had people do stupid surveys. I actually had to leave the room and go into the hallway the one year because my claustrophobia kicked in(too many people in too small a room.)

And then there was the time where that teacher took on the role of librarian because our librarian retired I think and we were down there and she was freaking out about how nobody could leave after the bell rang until all the precious chrome books were back and I said something about how we'd all just leave any way and she went on the warpath trying to figure out who said it, she yelled at two other people before she figured out it was me and I got told off by both her and my teacher for setting such a bad example for the younger kids. To this day I still don't regret saying what I did and for my last year I avoided the library like the plague because of her.

Speaking of chrome books I read manga on one back in grade 9 English class, Pandora Hearts to be exact I finished our chapter reading for the day and would go read PH after.

And there was that time that I think my gym class trespassed. It was grade 9 and we were trying to figure out the route for the long distance Terry Fox run and we somehow found our way onto someone's property and they had like decent size boats back there kinda like mini tugboats/fishing boats.

And that time my classmates supposedly found an abandoned and spooky mine have no idea if they were telling the truth.

And there was also that time a friend got in a fight with our principal for a supposed dress code violation because her sleeves had like a hole design or something either way it was bull. Then we got new principals and our dress code was abolished so people can wear whatever within reason.

Cosplay was also legal in our school 2 friends and I did it while most of our school was at the staff vs student hockey game and oh this one girl and her friend got so mad at us because we were being loud and obnoxious in a stairwell meanwhile one of our teachers and the librarian(the retired one loved her) were just like have fun but please try to keep the noise down. And then there was that time I walked through the whole school to my locker during our lunch break with the mey-rin wig on which for some reason can pass for my actual hair despite me being a very obvious brunette.

where do TV shows get this idea that high school is constant drama, nothing even fucking happened to me in high school

[maretinelli]

FOR THE BEST MOM

Lewis Hamilton X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: When Lewis and Y/n have already lost two babies during pregnancy, but he never fails to send her flowers on Mother's Day and reminds her that even without them there, she is a good mother.

Words: 3K+

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy loss, mention of child loss, anguish, anguish, and anguish until the end. But Lew is a good husband, and this will make you cry.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And this story leaves me COMPLETELY speechless, I don't know why I wrote it, but I needed some anguish. Sorry, and grab some tissues.

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

The love between Y/n and Lewis was always strong, built on complicity, respect and admiration. They were partners in everything, in joys and challenges, in moments of lightness and in those of greater weight. Just as they had promised on their wedding day.

Every shared laugh and every silent touch carried a deep meaning. They had each other, and that was always enough. At least, that's what they tried to believe.

The day they discovered their first pregnancy was one of the happiest of their lives. Y/n was in shock for a few seconds before letting happiness flood her. Lewis, upon hearing the news, felt a wave of emotion take over his body. Tears came before he could even contain them. He lifted her into the air, spinning her around carefully, his chest exploding with joy. Every kiss he placed on her face was a silent thank you for that gift.

They spent the next few days daydreaming. They imagined what it would be like to hold the baby for the first time, how they would decorate the room, what traits they would inherit from each other. Life seemed even more colorful, full of new promises.

But then, it all came crashing down.

Shortly after, Y/n started to feel unwell. At first, she tried to ignore it, believing it was something temporary.

But then the doctors broke the news, and it came as a brutal blow. The silence in the room felt overwhelming, and the air became too heavy to breathe. All the happiness, dreams, and plans they had made were gone in an instant.

The next few days were cloudy. Y'n felt like the world around her was spinning in slow motion as Lewis tried to be her stronghold. But at night, when she fell asleep, he would let the tears flow silently.

A year later, a new positive test. The fear was still there, haunting them both, but there was also hope. The rainbow baby they had wanted so much was finally on the way. They decided to celebrate, even though deep down they held on to happiness with caution,

But once again, pain struck them.

The second loss was even worse. There were no more words of comfort that could fill the void. The silence became more frequent, the conversations about the future with children diminished, and the pain settled between them like a constant presence.

Years passed, and the subject of 'having children' ceased to be mentioned. They moved on with their lives, still in love, still partners, but with the feeling that two pieces of their hearts were missing.

And the flowers arrived.

On the first Mother's Day after the second loss, Y/n noticed the bouquet of flowers left on the table. She hadn't connected it with the fact that it was Mother's Day. It was just a silent gesture from Lewis, a tribute he made without expecting any reaction. But it made her smile and thank her husband for the beautiful flowers.

The following year, he repeated the gesture, but this time he added a note. When Y/n found the small piece of paper among the petals, Lewis's words made tears fall before she could control them.

'To the best mommy our little ones could ever have. I know they're not here physically, but I believe they feel all your love. And I feel it too. You're amazing, Y/n. You always will be.'

She cried until Lewis got home. And when he found her clutching the note to her chest, all he could do was wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

The years continued to pass, and with them, flowers became tradition.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

3 years after the second loss.

It was Mother’s Day, and Lewis wasn’t in town. He wanted to be with Y/n and her mother, to hold her in his arms and remind her that she was never alone. But his running that weekend kept him from going home.

Y/n spent the day with her mother, having lunch together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But, even surrounded by love, there was an emptiness that persisted, a feeling of longing for something that never came to be.

On the way home, as she drove through the quiet city streets, one of her favorite songs played on the dashboard of her car. The sound brought comfort, but the tears came before she could stop them.

They fell silently, aimlessly, without her really noticing until she had to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She sighed deeply, trying to push away the thoughts that haunted her.

When he reached the garage, he turned off the car and stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath. Gathering his strength. When he opened the front door, the low sound of Roscoe's snoring in the living room filled the silence. A soft laugh escaped his lips, mixed with the tears that still insisted on falling.

Before she could close the door, a voice called her name. She turned around and saw the doorman of the condominium approaching with a gentle smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton."

Y/n walked down the steps and shook the older man's hand affectionately. "Good night!"

The doorman then held out a bouquet to her, a beautiful arrangement of lilies and white roses. "Mr. Hamilton asked me to deliver this to you. I forgot about it when you came through the gate just now."

Y/n blinked in surprise. She took the bouquet delicately, feeling the soft scent of the flowers fill the air. "Thank you" She said with a small but sincere smile.

The man nodded and returned to his post, while Y/n hurriedly climbed the front stairs of the house.

As soon as she entered the house, she walked to the kitchen, placing the flowers on the table before carefully removing the note stuck between the petals. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the paper.

'To the best mom in the world.

I know today is a difficult day, and I wish I could be by your side, to hold your hand and tell you that you were never alone on this journey. You will always be the mother of our little ones, no matter where they are. I know that if they could, they would tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. I know I am.

You are the strongest, most incredible woman I know, and my heart will always be yours. Forever. All my love, Lewis.'

The tears came before she could stop them. But this time, they were not tears of sadness, but of love.

She ran her fingers over the words, taking each one in. That man. That man always knew exactly what to say, even from far away.

Quickly drying her tears, she took out her cell phone and took a photo of the bouquet, sending it to Lewis with a short but sentimental message.

Before locking the screen, he read the note once more, a small but genuine smile dancing on his lips.

Lewis always found a way to remind her that even in the quietest, most painful moments, she was never alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

4 years after the second loss.

Mother's Day had arrived once again. Four years had passed since the second loss, and somehow Y/n felt like she was doing a little better this year.

She spent the afternoon with her mother and siblings, enjoying the day with laughter, stories, and shared memories. There were moments when she felt homesick, but the weight was a little lighter. She knew that Lewis was with her mother too, and that at the end of the day, he would be home to her arms.

When she arrived, the house was silent. Roscoe was sleeping peacefully on the couch, and a small smile appeared on Y/n's lips. She turned on some soft music on her cell phone, letting the melody fill the rooms as she prepared dinner. She cut the vegetables calmly, humming softly to the song that was playing.

It was then that he heard the familiar sound of the lock unlocking.

Seconds later, Lewis's voice sounded in the entrance hall, speaking softly to Roscoe, who had come to meet him excitedly. Her smile widened without her realizing it.

Lewis appeared in the kitchen doorway, watching his wife for a moment. She was stirring the pot with a calm expression, humming softly, and it warmed his heart in an indescribable way.

He approached silently, holding a bouquet in his hands. As soon as he reached her, he leaned over to place a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Y/n smiled and turned to him, touching his face briefly before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"How was your day?" He asked softly.

"It was good. My mom made that broccoli lasagna she always makes and we spent the day looking at old photos. She even sent some for you to see," he replied, and Y/n laughed. "By the way, she said hi to you too."

She smiled fondly. "I spent the day with my mom, and my brothers were in town too. It was nice...fun even."

Lewis nodded, and for a few moments, silence reigned between them. Y/n went back to stirring the pan, and he just watched her, as if recording every detail of that moment.

Then, with a small smile, he held out the bouquet to her. Y/n held the flowers, a tender glint in her eyes. She already knew the reason for that gesture.

Lewis kissed her cheek before murmuring, "I love you." Then he pulled back a little, giving her space to read the note attached to the bouquet.

Y/n opened the small envelope and skimmed over the words. Lewis still couldn't say all of that out loud. It had always been easier for him to write, to let the words spill out onto the paper so she could feel them in every letter.

'My love,

Another Mother's Day, another year by your side, and another reminder that you will always be the best mom our little ones could ever have. I know they are watching over us, and I know that if they could, they would tell you how much they love you and how grateful they are for you. You have always been and always will be an incredible mother. No matter where they are, the love you have for them echoes in every corner of the universe. I love you, Y/n. Forever. With all my heart, Lewis.'

The tears came before she could stop them. But this time, they didn't just carry sadness. They brought love, longing, memories.

With a tender smile on her lips, she turned to him and hugged him tightly. "I love you too, baby daddy." The words hit her before she could think.

Y/n felt them in her heart, and Lewis felt them in his soul.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if he would never let go. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, soaking in that silent but meaningful moment.

Then, Y/n sighed and broke the silence with a light tone, "My nephews were hell today. You should have seen the chaos at my mother's house.

Lewis let out a low laugh, feeling the air lighten.

They didn't avoid the subject, but they were still healing. They talked about it as best they could, in whatever way they could, respecting each other's time.

And somehow they knew they were walking together, side by side. Always.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

5 years after the second loss.

The day had been peaceful. For the first time in years, Mother's Day was not marked by heavy silences or painful moments. Lewis and Y/n spent lunch with Carmen, laughing at the stories she told about Lewis's childhood. Afterwards, they had dinner at Y/n's mother's house, enjoying time with her brothers and nephews.

Neither of them mentioned the loss they shared. They just lived in the moment, allowing themselves to feel the lightness of being with family.

Now night spread across the sky as Lewis drove back home. The car was filled with the sound of Y/n's excited voice, telling something funny that happened at work.

"And then he thought I was serious!" She laughed, leaning her head back against the bench. "You should have seen his face!"

Lewis laughed along, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I think your job is just a big sitcom and you're the lead."

Y/n laughed, feeling her chest lighten. But as the laughter died down, she realized Lewis wasn't heading home.

"Where are we going?" She asked, curious.

Lewis smiled sideways and placed a hand on her thigh, giving it a light rub. "I'm just looking for an open place to buy something."

"What thing?"

"Surprise."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but smiled. She knew there was no point in insisting. So she just went back to telling stories about work, and Lewis listened attentively as they drove through the city.

A few minutes later, he stopped in front of a 24-hour store.

"What are you going to do?" Y/n asked as soon as he turned off the car.

Lewis smiled. "I'll be back in a few seconds." He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and got out of the car.

Y/n laughed to herself and started changing music on the dashboard, waiting for him.

When Lewis returned, he held a single rose in his hands. He opened the door and handed the flower to her with a small smile.

Y/n frowned, but took the rose, laughing. "Thank you..."

Lewis took a deep breath and looked at her. "I didn't have time to buy a bigger bouquet," he said softly. "But I had to do it today. You know!"

Y/n understood instantly. Her chest tightened, but not in a bad way. Just intense.

Then, for the first time, Lewis began to speak. "I never knew how to put it into words. You know. I used to write it on notes, but now I'm a little better at saying it out loud," he began, his voice low but firm. "All these years, I've tried to move on, I've tried to accept it... But the truth is, a part of me has always felt like I failed you. That I should have done more." Y/n squeezed the rose between her fingers, feeling her heart tighten in her chest. "I've imagined so many times what it would be like. You holding our baby in your arms. Us choosing names, setting up the nursery, fighting over who would stay up late at night... I always knew you would be an amazing mother, Y/n. And it hurts me to know that we never had that chance."

His voice wavered at the end, and Y/n felt tears well up in her eyes. She ran her fingers down Lewis’s cheek, feeling the texture of his stubble beneath her touch.

"You didn't fail me, Lew," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "And you'd make an amazing father. I always knew that."

His eyes met hers, seeking comfort in the midst of their shared pain.

"I know it still hurts" Y/n continued, smiling sadly. "But... today I feel like I can breathe a little better. I'm taking the courage to say this out loud to you."

Lewis smiled slightly, bringing his hand to hers and intertwining their fingers. With the other, he places it on her cheek and smiles. "You are an incredible woman. And a very good mommy, with or without them here. I love you." Lewis kisses her, Y/n smiles and returns the kiss.

When they lose their breath, Lewis still keeps his hands intertwined with hers and starts the car, to go home now. Y/n smiled at the rose in her hand and went back to talking about the funny moments at work.

When they got home, Lewis opened the door and let Y/n in first. As soon as she stepped into the living room, Roscoe came running up to her, wagging his tail excitedly.

"Hey, kiddo" Y/n smiled, running her hand through the dog's fur.

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a vase to put the rose in. When Lewis arrived shortly after, Y/n was leaning over the counter, looking at the flower with a smile on her face.

The silence stretched for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and hesitantly closed the distance between them. "I... I still want to have children."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded and walked over to her. Y/n looked at her husband, feeling her heart beat faster. "All of this still hurts." She confessed, "And I'll never forget. I don't want to forget. They're part of our history. But I want to move on."

Lewis nodded again, and Y/n felt his hand on hers, warm and comforting. She swallowed hard before asking, "Do you still want to have children with me?" She cried softly.

And then, that question caught Lewis off guard, pain shot through his chest and punched his heart. It made tears come to his eyes as well.

"Of course I do, love." His voice was choked, but full of conviction. "I've never wanted this with anyone else but you. I could never imagine my life without us building a family together." Y/n sobbed softly, and Lewis squeezed her hand tighter. "It still hurts to think about them... and I think it always will. But I want to move on with you, in whatever way, for as long as it takes. Not to forget... but to turn the page. To give new meaning to all of this. I'd face anything to be able to hold our baby in my arms one day" He whispered. "And I know that when that day comes, it will be worth every moment."

Y/n sobbed harder and pulled him into a tight hug. Lewis's chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to control his emotion, but he held her like he never wanted to let go.

For a long time, they stayed like that, just breathing together, feeling each other's warmth, allowing that moment to completely envelop them.

A comfortable silence fell, and then Roscoe came over to them, nudging Y/n’s leg with his nose. She laughed and bent down to pet the dog, while Lewis watched her, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

And in that moment, as he watched the woman he loved smiling softly, her eyes still shining with emotion, Lewis knew that no matter what the future brought, he would never be alone.

He had Y/n. And one day, they would have a little piece of their love in their arms.

Author: I had seen somewhere where the husband did exactly that to his wife, but I can't remember where I had read it. But anyway, I cried while reviewing it.

[cherryxbooo]

omg i love your mason fic, the angst one. please write more angst i love your writings!!

Lost me forever

Summary: You thought you had finally found 'the one' and that you were the first choice all along, but that was until the truth finally came to light.

Note: Thank you so much lovely! As for the angst request, your wish is my command! I chose to write this for Mason since I found it fitting. Hope you enjoy it!

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: Angst

Loving Mason Mount felt like the easiest thing in the world.

It was effortless, like breathing, like waking up to golden sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming my skin before his arms ever had the chance.

From the moment we found our way to each other, it felt like the universe had been waiting for it to happen.

Like everything before him had been grayscale, and he was the color I’d been missing.

He made life feel lighter, and softer. It wasn’t just the grand moments, it was the little things.

Like the way his fingers would find mine beneath restaurant tables, absently tracing patterns against my palm as he listened to me talk.

Or how he would pull me back into bed on Sunday mornings, refusing to let me go,

his voice thick with sleep as he mumbled, “Five more minutes, baby. Just five more.”

And we both knew it would never be just five.

It was the way he’d insist on carrying my books when he met me outside my lectures, even though I told him I could handle it.

“I know you can, but I like taking care of you,” he’d say, pressing a kiss to my temple before reaching for my bag anyway.

Late-night drives with the windows down, my feet propped up on the dashboard as he glanced over at me, grinning like I was his favorite sight in the world.

“You know I love you, right?” he'd say out of nowhere, his voice soft but certain.

And every time, my heart would stumble over itself as I whispered back,

“Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

The way he’d tuck me into his chest on the couch, his fingers running lazily through my hair as we half-watched a movie, more focused on each other than whatever was playing.

Or how he’d tease me when I got grumpy, pressing exaggerated kisses all over my face until I was laughing, pushing him away only for him to pull me right back.

He made me feel adored. Cherished.

Like I was his entire world.

And for a while, I truly believed he loved me just as much as I loved him.

But I didn’t realize that, all along, he was still orbiting around someone else.

The change was subtle at first. So subtle that I almost convinced myself it wasn’t happening.

At first, it was little things.

Mason would forget to text me back, not just for a few minutes, but for hours.

I’d send him something funny, something I knew would’ve made him laugh before, and the read receipt would linger, unanswered.

Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s just tired. I made excuses, brushing it off like it wasn’t the start of something unraveling.

Then he started canceling plans last minute.

"Sorry, something came up. Training ran late. I’m exhausted, let’s do tomorrow?"

Tomorrow would turn into the next day, then the next, until suddenly, I realized I was the only one trying to reschedule.

Our deep, intimate conversations, the ones where we’d stay up until three in the morning talking about everything and nothing, where he’d tell me about his childhood dreams, his fears, the things he never admitted to anyone else, turned into empty small talk.

"How was your day? Did you eat?"

His words felt distant, mechanical, like he was just going through the motions.

I tried to ignore the way his responses lacked warmth, the way he barely asked about me anymore.

And when we were together, it felt like he wasn’t really there.

He’d sit next to me on the couch, but his body was tense, like he was waiting for an excuse to leave.

He’d hold my hand, but it didn’t feel the same, his grip wasn’t as firm, as reassuring.

His kisses were quick, and absentminded, like they were more of a habit than something he wanted to do.

The worst part? He stopped looking at me like he used to.

The light in his eyes, the way they used to soften when they met mine, it was gone.

Now, when I caught him staring, it felt like he was searching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

I tried not to let it bother me. I told myself it was stress, that he was overwhelmed with training, with matches, with the constant pressure to perform.

It has nothing to do with me. I repeated it like a mantra, like if I said it enough, I’d believe it.

But deep down, I felt it.

The distance. The absence of his warmth.

The quiet way he was slipping away from me, little by little, day by day.

Then came the late nights.

I’d wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should’ve been.

At first, I thought maybe he couldn’t sleep, maybe he was just restless.

But then I heard it. The hushed whispers from the other room, the way his voice softened in a way it never did with me anymore.

The first time, I told myself I was imagining things.

The second time, I told myself it was probably a teammate.

The third time, I stopped lying to myself.

Because when I walked in too quickly, when I caught him sitting on the edge of the couch, phone pressed to his ear, he snapped his head up so fast it was like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

His expression shifted, just for a second, before he forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him like I always had.

But my heart was screaming at me. Telling me something was wrong.

I just didn’t want to ask.

Because I already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

The night everything fell apart,

I was at Mason’s place, curled up on his couch, wrapped in the blanket he always draped over my shoulders whenever I got cold.

It smelled like him, like the faint traces of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably him, something that once made me feel safe.

I had been waiting for him to get back from training, my phone resting loosely in my hand as I scrolled absentmindedly, not really paying attention to anything on the screen.

The TV hummed softly in the background, playing an episode of a show we had started together but never finished.

He used to insist on waiting for me before watching the next one. Lately, he didn’t wait anymore.

I tried not to think about it too much.

I tried not to think about any of it too much.

The unanswered texts. The canceled plans.

The way his kisses felt like muscle memory instead of something he wanted.

I had spent weeks, months, convincing myself that this was just a rough patch.

That things would go back to normal once the season settled, once the stress faded, once he had time to breathe.

That we would go back to normal.

I wasn’t looking for answers that night.

I wasn’t searching for proof that something was wrong.

But sometimes, the truth doesn’t wait for you to be ready.

Sometimes, it finds you when you least expect it.

And that night, it found me in the form of an unexpected message on Mason’s laptop.

The screen lit up suddenly, casting a soft glow over the coffee table. At first, I barely noticed.

I was too lost in my own head, too focused on distracting myself from the gnawing ache in my chest.

I wasn’t the kind of person to snoop. I had never needed to be.

I trusted Mason.

Or at least, I thought I did.

But then, my eyes flickered to the name at the top of the message.

And my heart stopped.

Her name.

His ex Charlotte.

I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat.

It was just a name. Just a simple notification.

And yet, it felt like the ground beneath me had shifted.

There was no reason for them to be talking. No good reason, at least.

Mason never spoke about her. He had told me, once, that their story was over.

That I was the only one he saw a future with. That she was a part of his past, and that’s where she would stay.

I wanted to believe him. I had believed him.

So then why was she here, on his screen, reaching out like she had never really left?

For a moment, I hesitated.

I wanted to look away, to pretend I hadn’t seen it, to act like it was just some meaningless message.

That would be easier, wouldn’t it? I could go back to the way things were, smiling through the doubt, pushing aside the way he had been slipping away from me piece by piece.

But then I saw the preview of the message.

Just a few words.

But they were enough to send ice through my veins.

I miss you.

My hands shook as I reached for the laptop.

My heart pounded against my ribs, screaming at me, begging me to stop.

But I couldn’t.

I clicked on the message.

Then another. And another.

And with every message I read, my world crumbled around me.

It wasn’t just casual conversation.

It wasn’t Hey, how have you been? or Hope you're doing well.

It was confessions whispered in the dead of night.

It was I think about you all the time.

It was I miss everything about you.

It was Being with her doesn’t feel the same.

It was I still love you.

The air rushed from my lungs.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Waiting, praying, for the words to change.

For my eyes to be playing tricks on me.

But they didn’t change.

They sat there, staring back at me like undeniable proof that I had been living in a lie.

Every moment Mason and I had shared, every soft I love you, every late-night conversation, every time he had pulled me close and promised me forever, it had all been meaningless.

I had just been something to fill the space she left behind.

A placeholder.

A distraction.

A way for him to forget the girl he really wanted.

And the worst part?

I never even saw it coming.

I had been so sure of him. So sure of us.

I had loved him with everything I had, blind to the fact that his heart had never really been mine to begin with.

Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn’t cry. Not yet.

Not until I heard the sound of keys jingling at the door.

Mason was home.

And I had a choice to make.

Pretend I hadn’t seen anything, pretend I hadn’t fallen apart while reading his betrayal in black and white.

Or look him in the eye and ask the question I already knew the answer to.

When Mason walked through the door, tired and unsuspecting, his duffel bag slung lazily over his shoulder, I felt my entire body lock up.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his shirt sticking slightly to his skin from the shower he took after training, and for a fleeting second,

I saw the version of him I used to love, the boy who used to make me feel like the center of his world.

But that version of Mason didn’t exist anymore.

He didn’t know it yet, but I had seen everything.

His lips parted slightly when his eyes landed on me, confusion flickering across his face as he took in my stiff posture, the way my arms were crossed tightly over my chest like they were the only thing keeping me together.

His gaze shifted to the coffee table, to where his laptop sat open, the screen still glowing.

He didn’t know yet, but he would.

The air in the room shifted.

"Hey, love." His voice was soft, familiar, too familiar.

Like he hadn’t just shattered me beyond repair.

I didn’t respond.

I reached for the laptop, my movements slow, deliberate, my fingers curling around the edges before I threw it onto the table between us.

The loud smack echoed in the silent apartment.

Mason flinched slightly, his brows knitting together. “What the hell—”

"Tell me the truth." My voice trembled, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

His eyes darted between mine, searching, confused. “Y/n, what—”

I lifted a hand and pointed at the screen, my entire body trembling with the weight of what I had just discovered.

"Don’t. Just tell me the truth."

His eyes flickered down.

And in that moment, I saw everything.

The way his entire body tensed.

The way his face lost its color, his jaw tightening as his throat bobbed.

The way his fingers twitched at his sides, his breathing suddenly uneven.

He didn’t have to say anything.

I already knew.

But I wanted him to say it.

I wanted him to look me in the eye and own what he had done.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, his lips pressing together as if he was trying to find the right words.

"It’s not what you think—"

A bitter laugh burst from my lips before I could stop it.

I felt something inside me snap.

"Not what I think?" I repeated, my voice rising, the disbelief dripping from every syllable.

I jabbed a finger toward the screen, toward her name, toward the messages that had destroyed me.

“So you didn’t tell her you missed her? You didn’t tell her being with me wasn’t the same? You didn’t tell her you still love her?”

Mason inhaled sharply, his lips parting like he wanted to deny it,

God, I wanted him to deny it, but no words came.

His silence was louder than any excuse he could’ve made.

My throat tightened, the lump there threatening to choke me, but I refused to let him see me break.

I had already given him too much of me. I wouldn’t give him this too.

"Was I ever anything more than a rebound to you?" I whispered.

His face crumbled.

"Y/n—"

"Answer me!" I snapped, my voice cracking.

His lips pressed into a thin line. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

And then, hesitation.

Just a second. Just the briefest pause.

But that was all I needed.

I let out a sharp breath, my hands trembling as I wiped at my eyes, willing the tears away.

"I hope she was worth it, Mason." The words felt like acid on my tongue.

I turned away, grabbing my bag from the couch with numb fingers, my entire body screaming at me to run, run, run.

"Y/n, wait—" His voice cracked.

I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, not rough, not forceful, just desperate.

For the first time, I looked at him, really looked at him.

His face was drawn, his eyes wide, pleading.

His grip on my wrist tightened slightly, like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d disappear.

"Please." His voice was barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

"You don’t get to do that," I said, my voice barely steady.

I yanked my wrist free, stepping back.

"You don’t get to break me and then ask me to stay."

Mason exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, through his hair, looking more panicked now.

“I never meant—” He cut himself off like the words physically hurt to say.

I shook my head. “You never meant for me to find out.”

Silence.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t fight for me.

Because he knew.

He knew there was nothing left to fight for.

I felt a sob clawing at my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I refused to break in front of him.

I took a shaky step back. Then another.

"Goodbye, Mason."

And then I turned.

I walked to the door, my steps unsteady, my hands trembling as I reached for the handle.

"Y/n." My name was a whisper, a plea.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t look back.

And Mason didn’t stop me.

Because he knew, he had already lost me. Lost me forever.

Mason stood there,

This is what he wanted right?

Now he could go back to Charlotte without having to hide it.

But if this was what he wanted, why did he feel so guilty? Why does it feel like he has lost something big? Why was he feeling... regret?

Mason shrugged off those feelings before muttering "She was just a rebound, this is what I wanted right?"

And that was all it took for him to move on.

Well at least for now.

Mason got back together with his ex two weeks later.

At first, it felt right.

She was familiar. She was comfortable. She was the girl he had spent so long missing, the one who had haunted his thoughts even when he was with Y/n.

For a brief moment, he convinced himself he had made the right choice.

But then, the cracks started to show.

The first time he noticed it was during dinner.

They sat across from each other at a high-end restaurant she had insisted on, a place where the food was overpriced and the lighting dim enough to make everything look perfect for Instagram.

Mason had been talking about his match earlier that day, how exhausted he was, how he’d nearly scored but missed by inches.

She didn’t even look up from her phone.

"That’s nice, babe," she murmured, her perfectly manicured fingers typing away.

He stared at her, waiting, expecting her to say more.

She didn’t.

Instead, she snapped a photo of their untouched plates, adjusted the lighting, and posted it with a caption that had nothing to do with him.

That was just the beginning.

The thoughtful gestures, the ones Y/n had done so naturally, were gone.

There were no lazy Sunday mornings where she curled into his chest, tracing mindless patterns on his skin.

No soft kisses just because.

No remembering how he liked his tea or sneaking his favorite snacks into the fridge after a long day.

Charlotte wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t awful. She was just… absent.

It was clear she loved the idea of him, the status, the lifestyle, the way people looked at them when they walked into a room together.

But him? The man behind the footballer, the one with worries and insecurities, the one who needed comfort just as much as anyone else?

She didn’t see him.

And suddenly, Mason realized, he had been chasing a ghost.

The woman he had truly loved, the one who had memorized every detail about him, who had supported him through every loss, who had loved him for the man and not the player, was gone.

Y/n had been that woman.

His Y/n.

And he had thrown her away like she was nothing.

One night, after another meaningless fight, this time over why he wasn’t posting her on social media enough, he sat alone in his apartment, scrolling through his camera roll.

The pictures of Y/n were still there.

Her smile, so genuine.

The way she looked at him like he was her entire world.

The little videos she had taken when he wasn’t paying attention, him cooking, him laughing at something dumb, him asleep with his arm wrapped around her waist like he never wanted to let go.

He had been so loved.

And he had destroyed it.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

Y/n had vanished from his life.

Blocked his number. Deleted their pictures. Disappeared without a trace.

At first, he thought maybe she just needed time.

That eventually, she’d cool down, pick up one of his calls, and answer one of his texts.

She never did.

He tried her best friend.

"She doesn’t want anything to do with you."

He tried her family.

"Mason, you hurt her. Let her go."

Her colleagues, her neighbors, nobody would tell him where she was.

And then, one day, when he came to her house once again he heard one of her neighbors call out for him.

"You should stop trying son. Didn't you hear? She left the country."

His stomach dropped.

"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, she moved. Took some big job offer or something. Left everything behind."

Mason’s heart pounded in his chest.

She had left.

His Y/n had left.

Started fresh. Moved somewhere new. Somewhere he could never reach her.

And for the first time in his life, Mason Mount, who had always been able to fix his mistakes, to win people back with a smile or an apology, knew he had lost her forever.

And this time, there was no getting her back.

That night, I made my decision.

I sat in my apartment, staring at the email that had been sitting in my inbox for days.

A job offer.

My dream job. The one I had turned down for him.

For so long, I had let my love for Mason dictate my every move.

I had stayed when I should have gone, let him convince me that we were enough, that we could make a future together.

I had put his dreams, his career, his needs first, and let mine slip into the background.

But that future didn’t exist anymore.

And now? I had nothing left to lose.

So, I took a deep breath, wiped away the last of my tears, tears that had been falling for weeks now, and clicked accept.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of packing, selling off things I didn’t need, and coming to terms with the fact that I was leaving the place that had once felt like home.

It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

"Are you sure about this?" my best friend asked, standing in the middle of my now half-empty apartment.

I exhaled slowly, trying to hold it together.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And I meant it.

The morning of my flight, I did one last thing before leaving.

I blocked Mason. Everywhere.

His number. His Instagram. His Twitter. His email.

I erased him the way he had erased me.

And then I left.

As the plane took off and the city shrank beneath me, I finally felt it. The weight lifting from my chest.

The space inside me that had been filled with doubt, uncertainty, and longing, is now empty but... free.

A new country. A new life. A fresh start.

No more waiting for someone to choose me.

This time, I was choosing myself.

And Mason?

He was just a chapter in a book I had already finished reading.

Mason thought he had made the right choice.

He thought that getting back with his ex would fill the emptiness he felt after losing Y/n, but all it did was magnify the hollowness in his chest.

It was then, in the quiet moments of the night when he lay awake in his bed, that it hit him.

Y/n had been the one.

She had been the one who truly understood him.

The one who saw the person behind the jersey, behind the fame, behind the image.

She was the one who had loved him for him, not for the trophies or the spotlight.

And he had thrown it all away.

He had thrown her away.

But now, it was too late.

The more he tried to convince himself that things were fine, the more he realized that nothing felt right.

His ex wasn’t the person he needed.

And he was so damn lonely.

Training started slipping. He missed passes, lost focus, and the frustration was unbearable.

His coach started noticing, and his teammates were starting to get concerned.

He couldn’t even summon the motivation to push himself. Every match felt pointless, every goal out of reach.

He couldn’t concentrate. His heart wasn’t in it anymore.

His head wasn’t in it. His life wasn’t in it.

And the worst part?

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Y/n.

The way she would smile at him after a tough day, the way her laugh would fill the room like music.

The way she would hold him close when he was stressed or frustrated, as if just being near her was enough to make everything better.

The way she’d remember the smallest details about him, how she would surprise him with his favorite snacks or take care of him when he was sick.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, he would never have it again.

One night, after yet another argument with his ex, something about him not being “present enough”

Mason sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone.

He had tried calling Y/n again. She didn’t answer.

Of course, she wasn't going to answer.

She had blocked him everywhere, but every day he hoped that for some magical reason, she would've unblocked him everywhere.

He checked his messages, hoping, praying, that maybe, just maybe, she would reach out. But nothing.

It was as if she had vanished from his life completely.

And that’s when the weight of it all crashed down.

He realized that he had let her slip through his fingers, and now, she was gone.

For good.

Days blurred together as Mason sank deeper into his depression. His training was a mess.

His performance on the field was getting worse by the day.

His teammates were starting to notice his lack of focus and his erratic behavior. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

And then, it hit him like a slap in the face.

It was Y/n all along, not Charlotte. Y/n was his girl and not that fame-sucking ex of his.

Mason had spent so long taking her love for granted, thinking it would always be there, thinking he could come back when it suited him.

But now? Now he realized the truth: She had been the love of his life.

And he had lost her.

Forever.

He spent days in his apartment, alone with his thoughts, battling the crushing weight of regret.

He would never see her smile again, never hear her voice telling him that everything would be okay.

He had let the one person who truly loved him slip away because he couldn’t appreciate her until it was too late.

And in the silence of his empty apartment, with nothing but his thoughts and his guilt to keep him company,

Mason finally understood what he had lost.

Y/n.

The girl he had taken for granted. The one who had loved him without hesitation.

The one he would never get back.

The end

[ros3mari3]

Inked in Destiny

Bucky Barnes x soulmate!Reader

The first time you saw the tattoo on your wrist, you were seven years old. Delicate vines curled over your skin, inked in deep black, twisting gracefully around your arm. It was beautiful, intricate, and entirely mysterious.

You learned to hide it. Others had words that spoke of love and promises; yours was an enigma, a pattern that felt like a secret before you even knew who it belonged to. So you kept it covered, concealing it beneath bracelets and long sleeves, unwilling to face what it might mean. Over time, it became second nature to hide it, to pretend it wasn’t there.

Years passed, and the mystery of the ink faded into the background of your life. Until the war came, and the world tilted on its axis.

James Buchanan Barnes was a name whispered like legend, a man thought lost to time and violence. When you joined the Avengers, you never expected to meet him. And you certainly never expected the way your pulse would stutter the moment his gaze locked onto yours.

From the beginning, there was something about Bucky—something familiar, yet completely foreign. He was reserved, his voice always edged with reluctance, his eyes shadowed with the weight of things unspoken. You caught glimpses of warmth, of a man buried beneath the pain, but he always pulled away before you could see too much.

And then, one day, everything changed.

You had been sparring, caught up in the fluid rhythm of movement, when your sleeve rode up—just slightly. Just enough.

Bucky’s entire body went rigid. His breath hitched, and for the first time since you met him, there was something in his eyes other than guarded restraint—something raw, something like fear.

“What is that?” His voice was tight, laced with something unreadable.

Your stomach twisted. You knew what he was looking at. But still, instinct kicked in, and you yanked your sleeve down. “Nothing.”

His gaze didn’t waver. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, and you took one back.

“You always wear long sleeves,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. “Even in the summer.”

You swallowed hard. “So?”

He hesitated, fingers twitching at his side, then—without another word—turned on his heel and walked away.

The abruptness of his exit left you reeling. You stood frozen, your mind racing, watching his retreating form as he disappeared down the hall. The air between you felt charged, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in on your chest.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The image of his expression—the fleeting fear, the wariness—played on repeat in your mind. And so, against your better judgment, you found yourself outside his door.

You knocked once. No answer.

Twice. Silence.

On the third knock, the door swung open, revealing Bucky standing there, his jaw clenched tight. His room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion lining his features.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice hoarse.

“You ran,” you shot back. “You saw my tattoo and just—left.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked like he might shut the door in your face. But instead, he exhaled sharply, stepping aside to let you in.

The air in the room was thick with tension as you stood in front of him, your arms crossed. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing the same delicate, curling vines twining over his forearm. The sight of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I knew,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Your breath caught. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I didn’t want this for you. I didn’t want me for you.”

Your heart ached at the weight behind his words. Slowly, carefully, you reached out, tracing a finger over the ink on his skin. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

Bucky flinched under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze searched yours, filled with hesitation, with conflict. “I’m dangerous,” he whispered. “You deserve better.”

You shook your head. “I deserve my soulmate.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick with emotions neither of you were ready to name. But something shifted then—something fragile, something real.

And for the first time, Bucky didn’t step away.

[lucysarah-c]

I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol

“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”

Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.

“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.

What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”

This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.

Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.

“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.

“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.

…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.

The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.

Whose song is this?

“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.

Who are those?

“And the dance?”

What trend? What song? What dance?

Levi felt lost. Completely lost.

“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”

She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.

How the hell is that a heart?

But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.

“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”

That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”

His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.

How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.

“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”

She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.

“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”

The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.

“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”

Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.

“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”

Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.

Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.

“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”

“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”

“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.

Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:

“Espresso?”

Levi frowned. “What?”

Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.

“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.

To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.

“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”

“Huh?”

“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”

Levi stiffened.

And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.

“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.

But Hange wasn’t done.

“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”

I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.

[starl0rds]

Theory of Desire, pt. 2

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader ୨୧ · ♡ · ୨୧

Pt. 1 here!

“Young-il.” His name tasted sweet on your tongue. “What do you dream about?”

Amidst the bloodshed and misery of the games, desire takes root inside you and grows towards Young-il.

Warnings: minors dni! smut, mentions of sex, masturbation, wet dream, fingering, oral sex, blood, dirty talk, dom!in-ho, praise kink, basically porn with plot

Author's Note: hope you all are enjoying the fic! thank you sm for all the love so far. chapters will be updated every few days on ao3 <3

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Chapter 2: how I'm imagining you

I'd be the last shred of truth

In the lost myth of true love 

I'd be the sweet feeling of release

Mankind now dreams of

- “Talk,” by Hozier

“And you? Don’t you also wish to live?”

You looked up at Young-il. His face was inches away from yours, closer than you remember. The proximity of it stirred a strange excitement deep within you.

“Everyone wants to live,” you replied.

“Everyone wants,” Young-il murmured. And suddenly his lips were close to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck. “Everyone wants, and wants, and wants. Tell me, darling, what it is that you really want?”

“I—,”

“I know.” And his lips were no longer near your ear but now trailing the length of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, to your collarbone. You gasped at the sudden contact. His hands came up to explore the length of your body, strong and possessive. 

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he whispered. 

His hands dipped underneath the hem of your shirt. Your bare skin smoldered from where he touched it. “Be quiet, now.” He nipped at your neck, and you bit your lip from crying out. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone here, would we?”

“Young-il, please,” you rasped.

“Oh? Listen to you, already so good at begging,” Young-il praised. He pressed a kiss to your collarbone and slid his left hand down, slowly, until it reached the waistband of your panties. He toyed with it for a moment. With his hand, he stretched the elastic and then let it recoil, stinging your pelvis and eliciting a moan from you. Heat continued to pool between your thighs, closer and closer to where his fingers were traveling…

You startled awake with a jolt, hands clammy and perspiration beading your forehead. Inside the chamber, it was still dark. A sudden sound had roused you from sleep—to your left, one row below you, you heard Player 388 clamoring at the foot of his bunk bed, whispering hushed apologies as he climbed back on. He must have been tossing in his sleep.

You stared upwards at the bed frame of the bunk above you, your chest heaving. Your thoughts drifted to the content of your dream. It had all seemed too concerningly real—the wind of Young-il’s hot breath near your skin, the feel of his hands on your body. 

Your fingers traveled downwards. And there you found the wetness that had pooled between your thighs was not just a figment of your dream.

Shit.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

(chapter cont. here on ao3!)

taglist: @k1ra-park3r, @murderofravens

[betweenthescarletmoon]

hello fellow mutual from tiktok!!! I am so happy to see you put your thoughts here, i feel it was much harder for us to discuss jayce over there!

I agree with everything you said. A fourth act would've worked wonders for Every Character, not just him. And it does anger me so much that Jayce wasn't seen nor Written as a profound character because of s1. I wish i could have a talk with Christopher Linke about this

The idea that people can only like characters because they're attractive to lessen the load of digesting media is imo most likely the Editing Effect of inatagram and tiktok. It pains me to say but i do wonder if arcane came out by the time we as a generation watched AMVs and 7min edits on youtube instead (or at least i did). Maybe then people would have more profound thoughts on all the characters, including Vi, Jinx, Silco, Mel. And i am glad we can discuss things more over here, but it's still not as common to discuss and analyze as it used to be either.

You've mentioned one of my biggest gripes with fandom interpretation in the cave, WHO would debate bisexuality when they have nothing left but the crumbling inner workings of their mind, building the last comfort it can?? Thank you, i really like the idea that he also found himself resenting them, that is actually a much closer observation to how he Looks at them. I truly like that transition from his tears (which represent his old, vulnerable, sweet self) to that colder bitterness that guides him for the rest of the season (until we get the ending, which from a character narrative standpoint, doesn't make sense to me tbh).

Here's the thing, I've also placed myself in the difficult position of liking those thirst edits, saving them in a folder called "thirst traps" to keep them apart from my Real Jayce Folder, laughing at some of the "why trauma jayce kinda" and the like...while also deep down just feeling so empty and sad about it but feeling like there was nothing i could do about it? I don't wanna be dramatic but it Felt isolating. And maybe it does make me a hypocrite! Conformity and yadda yadda, but i cannot imagine that Jayce was designed to not be hot. I believe that was fully intentional, but i also thought that they were prioritizing his character. When i first saw act 2, i didn't know his agency would be obliterated and his arc ripped from his hands to place it solely on Viktor's. So now it feels even worse, that That is what the writers used him for too. And people are completely fine with it! They're so happy about the soulmates.

Your observations about him not stopping and being stuck in survival mode bring me clarity fr. He's never truly been a man about rest, was he? Perhaps that was his main trauma response all along, sacrificing sleep and Academy grades to get Hextech running, almost killing himself the moment he felt he lost it. Of course he'd do that at a more extreme level, but because act 3 doesn't rest or let the story breathe, i frankly didn't interpret it as that, it just felt like he conveniently stopped being mentally ill to give a speech and fight the war 😂 if he survived, he probably wouldn't have stopped, because stopping meant that PTSD would rear its ugly head. But the tragedy of it all Was that he died. Saving the world yes, but it feels so empty and cruel that he suffered so much just to die. No real accomplishment or meaning, just him serving the narrative and saving Viktor.

PS : i adore viktor i really do but it's getting hard not to resent him bc of what the writers did to butcher him, and how they stripped jayce of everything he was outside of him. I still love him! I promise!

And mutual! If you wanna keep talking in DMs you are welcome to!!

Random Thoughts on the Arcane Fandom about Jayce

this is gonna be a mess but I have nowhere else to talk about this.

I've recently noticed how Jayce Talis has been subjected to all kinds of sexualization since the drop of Act 2 of the second season. People have mentioned many times how trauma has made him "hot". A good and well-known example of this is Danny Motta's reaction to episode 5, where he said, "Holy shit, they made Jayce hot! [...] My dude went from looking like a Muppet to the king of Rohan, and all it took was a little bit of trauma."

This isn't entirely new for him? If people didn't hate Jayce back in S1, they ogled him in the scene where he works on the Forge shirtless, which IS kinda the point because the animators are making him very obviously attractive. But most importantly, he as a character has been reduced to his sexual or romantic relationships since the beginning of time.

It seems that S2 is a response to this in a way. His arc from the ending of S1, where he took responsibility of his actions out of guilt for the child he killed, was slightly set aside for Viktor. Well, ALL of his life, dreams, decisions, everything about him was eclipsed by Viktor's shadow because of the whole "all times, all possibilities" twist. He wasn't expected to show up as a Councilor in any of the meetings, and we must assume he quits at some point, but he surely hasn't resigned from his position by the time Viktor wakes up. Apart from that much needed scene between him and Cait, and the one where he attends the memorial (and is attacked by a vengeful mother), we don't see many of his decisions or what leads him to make them, other than Viktor. This is beautiful in a way because we can SEE how it is a trauma response to losing him. He is obsessive by nature, and he clings to what keeps him and his loved ones safe excessively, but I still had to do a bit of mental gymnastics as to why he went back on the second promise: to not build Hextech weapons again. (Hint: it has to do with the fact that VI saved him with HIS weapon, but it went so fast it's hard to process in the first watch.)

Now back to the sexualization problem. Every time I look up his name and trauma, or PTSD, 95% of the results are thirst edits on Tiktok about how hot he is. No joke. One of the more serious results is my own edit. Of course, a lot of people connect with his suffering without naming it as trauma, and that is great. My concern is that there has been so much focus on Jinx's trauma, Viktor's trauma, even Silco's trauma (which are all valid and fascinating to explore), but there's less attention for other characters who clearly show how their own traumatic experiences has shaped them. Vi, Caitlyn, and Jayce are some of the clearest examples of this, and they've experienced some truly heinous things in the show. Trauma cannot be compared, ever. But why is it that Jayce, who lived through an apocalypse that HE knows HE caused, and lives in complete isolation except the "company" of metal watchers, to the point that he loses touch with reality, and is changed so irrevocably that he loses the naivety and starry-eyed optimism that has always defined him...is seen as hot? And more importantly, why is it that there is very little attention to his experiences on that cave? Every scene between him and Viktor is uploaded in 1080 HD quality, but the scenes of him alone? Fighting to survive? Showing remarkable resilience in the face of his suffering? No, that's not as fun. Not a single one of those scenes is uploaded fully, and I have checked many times. (Some people have actually skipped those scenes to focus on Timebomb. I'm...)

I went online and looked up "why do people sexualize traumatized characters" because let's face it, it's real, it's interesting, and I cannot judge or else I am a hypocrite. Bucky Barnes, Loki, Ellie Williams, Dean Winchester, Vi herself, the list goes on much longer but I can't think of others off the top of my head. We connect with their suffering, and we are pulled by their experiences.

However, Jayce is such a complicated case because he is usually thought of as the greedy himbo that fumbled two baddies, or the confused bisexual, or the guy who lost it because of a situationship (much like Vi, who DID NOT lose it because of a failed romantic endeavor bfr). And then the plot goes and tells us, "Actually, yeah, his life outside of Viktor doesn't matter, he's not even supposed to be alive, because Viktor saved him. All of time is completely inextricable from Viktor." People hate meljay because she manipulated him and "trapped" him in a relationship or something, only to celebrate it when something suspiciously similar happens with the male romantic interest? I initially thought it was beautiful too, bc Soulmates, but man. Mage!Viktor really left the man he loved to rot in complete isolation, eating raw reptiles until throwing up, losing his mind. Say what you want about the allegory for Viktor's life, at least Viktor's isolation was metaphorical up until the Glorious Evolution.

Despite us being shown this, people make thirst edits of him in his black fit, and fighting with sexual tension with Viktor. I fear...that I am the only one who finds this tragic. The man forced to create a larger than life persona to sell his work and be seen as an attractive pawn of the system, has become the attractive pawn of the narrative. Viktor's narrative.

Perhaps Viktor was forgotten by the world. But Jayce's kind heart, and brave soul, were forgotten by us.

Just some thoughts to chew about my favorite character and my wish that more people focused on his arc with me

[laurents-laces]

Only 20 days left until TGR! Here's all my rambling that I couldn't fit on a bingo:

Jean just found out about Elodie's death, Jeremy lost his relationship with his sister, and Lucas is about to lose his brother. I think sibling relationships are gonna be really important in this book. I also hope we get to meet Cat's sister Vivi when she drops off the motorcycle for Jean

So excited for exy with the Trojans! I hope they actually take some of Jean's advice because he's really good at seeing people's strengths and weaknesses. And I hope they interact with other teams more than the Foxes do. It would help Jean see that the Trojans are actually pretty normal and the Ravens are the weird ones. He still thinks it's the other way around

Jean thinks of Kevin as Riko's Queen or the Court's Queen a few times in TSC. Does he see that title as a symbol of independence like Kevin does, or does he see it as Kevin still having a place in Riko's perfect court?

I'm obsessed with the way Jeremy narrates events without telling us a single one of his emotions. Does he miss having his little sister in the audience when he plays a big game? Did he have feelings for any of those boys who were "exactly the kind of guy [he] was prone to trip himself up over"? Why hasn't he dated anyone before? He loves USC because it feels private and safe, so does he not feel that way at home?

I need to know what Jeremy's family did to him. He calls his mother the devil and dislikes his last name and gets angry just at the mention of his step grandfather. It's such an extreme reaction from a guy who barely says anything negative about anyone

I feel like Jeremy's family issues are gonna be too weird for anyone to predict. But I think his part of the story is going to be less about redeeming himself from past mistakes and more about letting his friends support him instead of acting like he's fine all the time

I think Jean might really struggle with holding back when they play against more violent teams. Would suck if it costs him a spot on the starting lineup, but maybe it would be good for him to see that there aren't any consequences for failing to be the best

I think Neil and Andrew might be too busy with Aaron's trial to go with Kevin to California but Jean thinks of them too often for them to not be relevant at some point, whether now or in book 3

I think Jean saying he learned the hard way not to look at another man too long has something to do with Kevin and the incident his freshman year. It's really weird that Riko only told Kevin half of the truth of what happened

"You cannot save me from what came before, and you help neither of us by trying to dig up those graves. Leave Evermore to me and Dobson... Help me survive what comes next.” I hope his friends listen to him about this. And I hope he starts actually talking to Betsy. He seems like he wants to, he's just worried it won't actually help

The way Jean describes the people he loves is so intense. We got some really lovely thoughts about Kevin and Renee from him in TSC, and I can't wait to see how he'll be when he gets to know Jeremy better. I don't think they'll be able to beat "you are a pipe dream" but I'd be thrilled to be proven wrong

[blubunz]

YAP SESSION 1

— leon s. kennedy x f! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: exhibitionism, sloppy writings, it's just me yap, oral (f! receiving), reader wears a skirt, Leon's a messy eater, slight piss kink, pussy eating, overstimulation, fantasizing about being watched, you two get found out... almost.

A/N: why do I always write when I'm sleepy.

Bro I've been thinking about how you'd usually wear skirts when going out with Leon, cause like, don't get me wrong, you usually wear pants and stuff too but you consider wearing skirts on special occasions, cause most of your skirts are cute so you wanna show them off to Leon everytime you two go on dates.

Of course, Leon finds you adorable as hell, but he can't deny that he often fantasize of kneeling before you and give you the messiest oral session you've ever had.

You, back against the tree in the park you two went in. Your empty ice cream cone fell off the side as your body trembles and a hand over your mouth.

God, Leon gives the best head, he's eating your cunt like a madman, looking up at you only to see your eyes roll and your breathing grows rapidly. It's still daytime, and whats worse, its the weekend, so you can't make a sound here.

His fingers dig in the fat of your thighs, kneading your ass in the process as his tongue rolls around your vulva and attacks the little hole that you usually use to urinate. Then he reaches inside your pussy, groans muffled against your pussy as he lets out the loudest slurp. It makes you wanna slap Leon because holy shit someone's gonna see you guys if he keeps being this loud on purpose!

But you can't do that, too busy trying to be quiet and trying not to get lost in the sensation, you can feel drools rolling down your chin, dripping down your cleavage and staining your top. Your body's shaking so hard as you're overwhelmed with many sensations and stimulation. Excitement, fear, pleasure and all that makes your pussy walls so tight around his probing tongue.

Leon groans, lapping against your pussy like a dog drinking water, his own cock straining against his pants, dripping pre-cum. He adjusts his kneeling position, rutting against your foot, seeking his own climax.

You can see through your blurry eyes that Leon's cheeks hollow while he sucks hard again on your clit, flicking his tongue back and forth around the nub. His heavy breathing brushes past your pubic mount and he resumes back to your cunt.

Your hand shook, nails digging in the tree behind you. Leon continues his ministrations until both of you jolt at the sound of the nearby bush.

You try to push Leon's head off, but he insists on keeping his lips attached to your cunt, sucking harder than ever to make you moan more, furthermore making you more ashamed.

Yet, you can't deny the thrill of being seen like this. Some twisted desire inside you just relish at the thought of being watched while Leon uses your body. You can almost imagine how other men would jerk off to the view, or some people would stare in disgust, it all excites you, makes your pussy throb.

A quick shadow came by and you jolt again, and Leon groans when he can feel your pussy gets tighter than earlier, and how you cum at the mere thought of being seen.

Yet, you only see a tail wagging, and a dog walks around, nose sniffing the air. It sees you two and stares. You know dogs aren't like humans, it's doesn't judge you simply cause it doesn't know what you two are doing, but you keep your gaze on it, tears brimming your eyes as the dog curiously gets close to where Leon's kneeling.

A shout of a lady breaks you through, cumming for the second time and squirting all over Leon's face and mouth. Your clit is twitching, you're overstimulated now, but Leon's such a jackass, keeping his head buried between your thighs still, lapping uo your juices.

"Ugh, where is that dog?!" The woman frustratedly groans, and you swear you can feel your heart thumping loud both in fear and arousal.

Before the woman can walk in on you two, the dog runs out, back to its owner.

You cry out again in your palm as Leon's teeth graze over your clit, putting pressure on it until your pussy squirts out for the third time, and Leon can even taste the slight acid taste as a little bit of piss leaks through.

He finally lets go, his face is a wet mess, lips glistening and red from eating your cunt like a fine dine. He licks his lips and kisses your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You love going on dates with Leon. He's so full of surprises sometimes.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 136 (Twists and Turns)

The next morning, Heather woke to a fresh blanket of spring snow (must be Canada 😂). She was hit with another bout of nausea, and stunned by news that one of her vet techs, Rico Garrison, had been unceremoniously culled killed in a shock drowning accident in Dachshund's Creek. This left her down a tech and about to commit to a months-long rebuild of Buttercup Pet Clinic.

Despite the unseasonably snowy holiday and feeling less than stellar, Heather had to go to work to cover Rico's appointments. She felt horrible for her best tech, Kaori Hayashi, who had been dating Rico since late winter. They were even expecting a child, which meant Heather would soon lose Kaori to maternity leave, too. At least Thaddeus, her most recent hire, could help pick up the slack, but this was undoubtedly a tragic setback.

Despite the unseasonal snowfall, J Huntington came in with his dog, Archimedes, thanking Heather for her advice over working with Landgraab Corp. "I signed the contract to give them the company. They'll take care of straightening out George's books, and for the first time, my guys will get healthcare, so everyone's on board with the change."

Heather forced a smile. She didn't care much for things that would please Nancy Landgraab, but she knew a strong presence at the docks was important after everything they'd been through over winter. "I'm happy for you," she said, and it wasn't a total lie.

She returned home in mid-afternoon, finding her younger sister back from Henford in the living room. "Hey Hazel! How was Easter dinner?"

"It was great." She fiddled with the hem of her jacket as she sat on the sofa. "I'm sorry I got upset with you while you were away. I was freaking out about all the marriage talk, but I shouldn't have put that on you."

"It's okay," said Heather. "I'm not upset, but I couldn't tell you what you should do. What if I had said no?" (That option won the poll, by the way!)

"I would've been more upset," she admitted. "I'm not ready to marry again right now, but I want to be with her for a long time."

"Did you talk to Suri?"

"I did. She said she's been feeling like she needs to hold on to the important people in her life since she lost her aunt so suddenly, and I totally understand what she's going through. But it's too soon to get married. We want to live together first - just the two of us."

"Here in Brindleton Bay?"

Hazel nodded. "I like working with Alex Goth, and the deal's almost done for her to buy the Salty Paw. She said when the owners found out her grandmother was Clara Bjergsen they did their own renovations and upped the price, but once a deal goes through, I'll move in with her in the small apartment over the bar."

"There's an apartment over the bar?"

"Not much of one, but we're going to try to turn it into something nice."

"I'm happy for you, Hazel. And I'm happy you handled this so maturely with Suri."

"You didn't think I could, did you."

"I hoped you would."

"Are you sure you guys won't miss me when I'm gone?"

"The Salty Paw's only about fifteen blocks away."

They laughed together and Hazel smiled. "Thanks for everything, sis. You're the best."

Heather still wasn't feeling great as she tried to get a few chores done around the house. She'd started to feel like she was fighting off an infection; it was time to see a doctor, so she left Conrad at home with Lavender to visit her gynecologist.

But she came home in a daze, stunned by the doctor's diagnosis. She found Conrad and Lavender upstairs, chatting as Lavender tried to bargain for another story. "When you're five, we'll talk about a later bedtime, but until then, that's now. Time to get into your pajamas." Conrad's attention turned when Heather shut the bedroom door behind her. "Hey! What did the doctor say?"

Heather sighed. "Well, I have a UTI. But that, the nausea, the fatigue...they have nothing to do with the spider bite."

Conrad's face fell. "What's up? You're okay...right?"

"I'm pregnant. About seven weeks."

She smiled as his expression flipped from concern to ecstatic joy. "Heather, that's incredible!"

Lavender glanced at her parents with confusion. "What's pregnen?"

"It means you're going to have a baby brother or sister."

Lavender still wasn't sure what they meant. "I have a brother awreddy. Can it be sister?"

"We don't choose, sweet girl."

"I hope it's a sister!"

After tucking Lavender into bed they settled onto the sofa for a comfortable night in, but their movie was interrupted when Heather's phone rang. She checked the call display before she connected the call. "Malcolm? What's going on? Is Ash there?"

The line was quiet for a long time. Too long, and Heather felt the phone start to shake in her hand. Finally, she heard Malcolm take a breath.

"Heather...I...It's...Ash is missing. H-he's been kidnapped." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Sorry I buried the baby news, but I didn't have enough content to make a whole other post and I set myself another arbitrary deadline to get to a certain point in the story by a certain date. And Heather was supposed to learn she was pregnant later than this, but the mod-generated UTI sent her to the gynecologist and she/we found out earlier than planned. No offense to this very wanted baby but ASH IS MISSING!!

NOTE 2: @purplesimmer455 the way I couldn't react with the excitement I wanted to your meme share on Sunday knowing I paid homage to it in this very post ("What's pregnen?") and didn't want to give the truth away yet! 😅 Shout out to @matchalovertrait who also guessed this, and @changingplumbob who I think was thinking it when she asked why Ash's room had bunk beds! I made up a small fib about repurposing the tiny nursery space, but actually I still need it for the new nooboo!

NOTE 3: On one hand, it's very sad that Rico was culled when he's expecting a baby. On another hand, this is a setback on my likely-fruitless search for a five-star rating because now I have to train up a new tech! Tragic!!

WCIF Phone Poses: Unexpected Phone Call by @starrysimsie and Shocked News by @simmireen. I used @nataliaauditore-blog's iPhone 11 accessory in both poses.

[beanstroni]

Okay so the "Damian volunteers at a hospital" thing is going around and I saw a post about how happy it would make Alfred and I just.

No.

It would not make Alfred happy.

It would crush him.

He would tell Damian he was proud.

And that night he would sit down on his bed. (In his outside clothes!)

Pull the flask from under his pillow.

Tap it up against the photo on his nightstand of the first black-haired blue-eyed boy who had kept him up until the wee hours of the night asking for a plate of sandwiches.

The first boy who had come home with blood on his clothes and a broken heart and cried on Alfred's shoulder when he lost a patient.

The first boy who looked at the man equal to him in age but greater in composure (an act , an act, it was all a role to play) and fell apart in the safety he found in gloved hands holding onto his shoulders.

The boy he had to convince to turn back around and go ASK HER PROPERLY when he came in distraught but delighted over Martha's proposal to him.

The boy who had been his friend and more, his brother.

The boy who had brought HIS son in, and placed him in his arms, saying quietly, "I don't know what to do, Martha needs sleep and you always calm me down when it's this late..."

Alfred would tap his flask to Thomas' picture, down the contents, and sigh.

"When will I learn how to keep my boys away from sorrow? It's all you and your big heart's fault, you know, Thom. You started this path."

The next day, the manor will wake to find a note - "Do try to leave my kitchen in one piece," and "don't touch the crock pot," "yes, that includes lifting the lid for 'just a peek.'" Alfred is back by dinner. He mans the comms, patches them up, and sends them to bed.

When Damian makes it upstairs, he finds two things:

- a skeleton in a bowler hat, plaque denoting "Anonymous Donor, given to Thomas Wayne" (when he flips the plaque over, "Falcone" is found in the cipher on the back, written in his grandmother's pen)

- a labcoat, freshly pressed, with no identifying marks until he slips it on to find patches of the Wayne crest in the cuffs. One hand makes its way to the pocket, where a strong hand has written in the script that Damian has come to learn means safety and love and harbor, "This was your grandfather's favorite lab coat. He found the reminder of who he was and who he had to return home to helpful. May it serve the same for you, dear boy."

The next day, there is no comment from either party.

But that night, when Alfred returns to his own quarters, there is a new frame on his nightstand. An embellished "P" in charcoal. "Who we come home to." Lettered precisely underneath.

[kanguin]

While I appreciate that your comments were not directly pointed at me, and I respect your self-honesty with regard to your religious beliefs and their labeling, I feel you misunderstood what I was saying in the tags just as much as I misunderstood what the intent of your tags were.

When I stated that your faith is young, I was not stating that analytical works could not have been written about it. I was truncating for the sake of saving space in tags, and trying to communicate that Mormonism, or the Church of the Latter Day Saints, is young in the sense that it was founded in VERY recent, VERY recorded history in the past two centuries. When I said engaging with critical thinking, I don't just mean analyzing how to adjust Mormonism to fit to being queer, I meant actually acknowledging that all of the works and all of the associations derived from the writings of Joseph Smith are entirely fraudulent.

Joseph Smith was a known con-man, not just with his tablets stunts but was accused and charged multiple times for fraud, perjury, inciting riots and violence, and at least one case of conspiracy to assassinate, just from what I can remember off the top of my head. His writings, the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, The Doctrine and Covenants, etc, make numerous historical accusations that are patently untrue according to all known genetic and archaeological evidence. Many religious scholars who read those books with critical eyes note how the grammar is clunky and broken, as it's clearly a common 19th century New England man's best attempt at imitating the particular grammar of the King James Bible, written hundreds of years prior. This wasn't entirely original either, because numerous other failed-start books and documents produced around this time feature this style. Further, some of these writings claimed to be translated from "Egyptian papyri" uncovered on expeditions, another popular claim at the time, as the lost written language of Egypt was actively being deciphered in the 1820s, 30s, and so on... but the full language wouldn't be completely deciphered until 1850, years after Joseph and Hyrum died. His claims are based on even shakier foundations largely centered around the "Lost Tribes" of unified ancient Israel. However, many scholars today doubt the literal nature of the story of the 12 tribes of Israel and an ancient unified Kingdom of Israel presented in the Christian Bible and the Torah before it, because of the amount of contradicting archaeological evidence, and that story is crucial to the narrative of a migration out of the Levant to the Americas; instead the story is largely seen now as either fabricated at worst, or more likely allegorical to the shared history of the peoples of the Levant. The idea that any people from the eastern end of the Mediterranean made it to the Americas before the invention of large sailing ships is hard for most scholars to believe as it stands, but if you genetically sequence Native Americans, you'll find they bear closer ancestry with eastern and northern Asian peoples, which is backed up by the trail of human migration across the western coast of North America, indicating a propagation out of Alaska and southward. Add onto this the stories of the darkening of Native skin for turning away from god and the origin of black skin coming from descendants of Cain, and you have a very clear picture of a man who knew nothing about the history of the world and instead wrote a story based on his own feelings on Natives and black people, which for much of his life were not remotely good (yes I'm aware he came around to slave emancipation later in life, no that doesn't excuse what he previously wrote about black people nor how he nor his people killed so many Native peoples on their journey westward).

The Latter Day Saints church is relatively unique among major religions today in that the history of the faith and its founders are so well documented. Joseph Smith routinely got himself into trouble by scamming people out of money by using seeing stones, dousing rods, and magically uncovered and translated documents to gain favor and money from others. And the movement he started went on to cause public unrest in location after location until he and his complicit brother Hyrum were murdered while being held in jail for trial, by a mob of nearly 200 people, who all had enough of his behavior.

And yet, he became a martyr. The LDS church has now gone on to become one of the largest cults of the modern era in how it controls its members, and one of the biggest forces of white supremacy and colonialism outside of an organized government or the KKK. The entire model of going on missions and going door to door to convert and spread the faith is directly antithetical to providing actual help because of the ulterior motive of conversion. Every time a new LDS temple pops up in a non-white community, a foothold of control over people is established.

Everyone the world over who stands for acceptance, racial equality, and LGBT+ rights and knows anything in depth about the LDS church hates it, it's not just picked on for no reason. With other religions, thousands of years of tradition exist to muddy the waters of what is original doctrine and what is harmful conservatism. Mormonism however is among the very lucky and small group of Scientology, Jehovah's Witnesses, and Christian Scientists of being relatively clear cut on what's what due to the fact that all of the events that led up to its emergence have occurred in the very heavily documented.

I know you're probably not going to read all of this and/or block me for daring to go after your religious beliefs, but I really needed to get this out of my system. You can't just reframe Mormonism, it's rotten to its core, down to the very stories that its founded on and the men who started the movement. No matter how much you self-analyze, no matter how much literature you read, other queer people and other racial and religious minorities are going to see you as a threat for still holding onto its doctrines. As a post note, I did read up on the professor you mentioned. Sadly though, I'm not really sure if I can really take someone, even with a PhD, entirely seriously, if they treat religions like music (her words!) and pick and choose parts of various faiths they personally like like it's a buffet. It's self serving at worst and out of touch at best to behave that way, and for this piecemeal approach to come from a multiple published Doctor of Communications is disheartening.

My partner and I got into a heated debate (for fun) the other day, and I need to know what other people think. We're both from different non-Catholic Christian families, but have left the faith.

For reference Catholics can pray to Mary or specific Saints, who all have domains that they pertain to, and believe these prayers can be answered.

(The Trinity is a whole other question and I'm not touching that)

[kirlicues]

Rockwell Drive | Sims 2 Residential Lot Download

The Rockwell Drive house features quoining accents to give interest to the large swaths of red brick.

It also has beautiful garden spaces, as well as a pool because swimming to gain body skill is so much more fun than running on the treadmill for 10 hours. Let's take a short tour and I'll tell you more about how this lot came about because you have nothing better to do with your time. Jump to the bottom of this post if you want to download it into your game. 😊

Here's what the backyard looks like:

Several years BC (before children) I found it entertaining to set up a household of Sims (Sims 1 was the only game out at the time) and just watch them interact without interfering. It was quite funny, until the kitchen caught on fire, and then it wasn't. 😧 I hate letting my sims have bad experiences, especially when I could intervene and stop them (now if only that could be the case with real life kids as they grow up)!

I decided to try this again with the Sims 2, but armed with several hacks that make the characters a little smarter when it comes to fires and a little more motivated to go to work (further reducing the chance of fires). It was much more successful and other than the sims hogging the computer (until I removed it) didn't give me near as many grey hairs. 😂

This was the house that that family lived in.

Back then it looked a bit different, but it's been freshly remodeled inside, and given some colorful wall treatments to make up for the seas of red brick on the exterior. Please feel free to redecorate it to fit your sim family's needs though.

Here's what the floor plan looks like:

1st Floor: Clockwise from bottom left: garage, sin room, downstairs family room, stairwell, kitchen, dining room, living room, entry, bathroom, and laundry room.

2nd Floor: Clockwise from bottom left: kids bedroom 1, kids bedroom 2, laundry room, upstairs family room, master bedroom, bathroom, walk-in closet, hall way, and kids bathroom.

Rockwell Drive: MF | SFS

All EPs and SPs are required.

*I highly recommend that you have the PerfectPlants mod from TwoJeffs*

I’ve run this home through the Lot Compressor so any random references to sims that aren’t there should be removed. I have also run this lot through the Lot Cleaner to remove any bits of buggy code. This lot comes with a shiny custom thumbnail so it has even more curb appeal in your Lots and Houses bin! 😄

This home has only 2 pieces of CC, which you may already have in your game. These can easily be replaced or omitted if you don’t want them though.

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims -Functional Washer and Dryer by mustluvcats at ModtheSims

CC Not included: -Maxis Match Chimney recolors from Mod The Sims (I'm not sure which one I used at the moment so grab them both if you don't already have them!) -Lost & Found BENNO Coffee table from the Ikea Stuff Pack

I ALWAYS recommend using the Sims 2 Pack Clean installer to install lot files.

[kittenfangirl20]

First 50 Dates Au

⚠️TW Domestic Abuse⚠️

Everyone always knew that Lucifer's marriage to Lilith would never last, this was clear especially after Charlie was born. She started using her as ways to manipulate him and when that didn't work she would get physically and verbally abusive.

So when the day came that he was serving Lilith with divorce papers, he made sure Michael came and took Charlie out for the day.

Lilith lost her mind, she was so pissed that he was divorcing her that she grabbed a nearby lamp and beat him with it until he was nothing more than laying in a pool of his own blood, bruised, and unconscious. She thought she had killed him so she just left him on the floor.

Michael found him hours later and called the police and an ambulance.

Michael: LU!! NO!! ELLEN KEEP CHARLIE BACK!!

She shouted to his wife who held the six year old girl back.

Lucifer was taken to the hospital where he was on life support, he had brain surgery to stop the swelling.

Michael: Will he live?

Doctor: He will, but there's no way in knowing how bad anything is until he wakes up. He could have memory loss.

And he did, Lucifer couldn't remember the attack which was a blessing. But his long term memory no longer worked properly.

Lilith was arrested and charged with attempted murder.

For the next 13 years Lucifer was stuck in a loop of the day he was going to give Lilith the divorce papers. His family tried to keep his life the same as much as they could.

Until Adam moved to town.

Adam drove his van into the new town while loud rock music was playing over his radio. He wanted to try something new and get a fresh start. The good thing was that this town was about thirty minutes away from the town he grew up in and he could still visit family and friends. He drove into the driveway of his new home and he started to unpack not knowing that Lucifer spotted him. Lucifer was pacing back and forth worried about how Lilith would react when he served her with the divorce papers. Ever since Charlie was born, she started to act more violent and cruel. But then he looked outside and saw a beautiful man moving into the house next door and he thought it would be nice to help him and he walked out.

Lucifer: Hey, I saw you moving on and I wanted to offer help. My name in Lucifer Morgenstern by the way.

Adam looked up and saw a handsome man with blonde hair and blue eyes.

Adam: Hey, actually that is very nice. My name is Adam Kadmon.

Lucifer: Adam, I like that name.

After that they both started to bring some stuff in and they started to get along with each other.

Adam: I was thinking tomorrow you could show me around the town and we can get lunch.

Lucifer: That sounds nice.

But the next day when Adam went to pick up Lucifer for the tour around town, Lucifer opened the door and looked at Adam as if he didn’t know him.

Lucifer: Hello, you must have moved in next door. My name is Lucifer Morgenstern, what is your name?

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(Morgenstern is German for Morningstar)

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

Nascar! Male reader after being cheated on by his former boyfriend (thats pretty much friends with his entire team and even had sex with afew) moves to f1 for 2025 where he drives pretty reckless, and while he doesn't disobey team orders the team would rather he not get into situations where they need them, that is till jack doohan, kimi antonelli and oliver bearman become friends and reader falls in love with jack.

–🍑

i know next to nothing about nascar so sorry in advance for inaccuracies

the day you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you was probably the worst day of your life. if it wasn't the absolute worst, it was definitely a contender for the top three.

everything felt like it had fallen to pieces so quickly. one day you were happily in love, you had a great team behind you, and a great circle of friends. the next you were hastily packing a bag of only the things you cared most about through blurred vision. your team, your friends, everyone seemed to take the side of your ex-boyfriend.

no matter how much proof you had, you got excuses of "but he's such a nice guy!" or "well, he's never done anything to me ..."

you couldn't count how many things you'd lost that day. your friends called you a liar and a coward. your team started icing you out, giving you the worse strategies and slower pit stops. the final blow came when you discovered that not one, not two, but several of them had slept with your boyfriend–often during race weekends when you were focused on, you know, not crashing the car.

the second you got a call and an offer from a formula one team, you took it. nascar had been fun for a while, but now it only reminded you of him and everything he took with him. you sent your team a two-line e-mail to tell them that you had a seat elsewhere and got on the next plane to the uk.

formula one was ... different. in good ways and bad. pro: it reminded you very little of your ex. con: it opened you up to a much more global audience; many of whom–given you hadn't leaked any of the proof of your ex cheating on you–had taken to believing the same lies everyone else had.

your driving, instead of being precise and calculated, became aggressive and reckless. you never disobeyed team orders, and you never raced in such a way that it would put another driver at risk, but when it was just you ... well, you found that you really didn't care enough for your own life to preserve it.

formula one had a whole media angle with the many new rookies on the grid. at first, you were determined to remain unattached and borderline cold. but the cheery personalities surrounding you slowly chipped away at your roughened exterior.

you weren't sure exactly when it broke away completely. maybe it was when ollie had called you one night, drunk off his ass, to excitedly tell you about a cat he'd seen on the street. maybe it was when kimi insisted on cooking you authentic italian food on your birthday (how depressing it was to realise that you couldn't remember the last time you'd celebrated it). maybe it was when you made jack laugh–really laugh–for the first time.

you didn't know when it happened, but it did. and you couldn't have been more grateful. ollie and kimi were the best friends you could ask for, and jack ... well, your resolution to never date again came to an abrupt end when the two of you found yourselves tipsy and alone in your hotel room.

slowly but surely, your driving returned to it's previous standard. you stopped spending nights crying yourself to sleep and spending morning bare-knuckle boxing a sandbag until your knuckles bled. you got better. you were happier.

and when the day finally came that someone else revealed the evidence of your ex's infidelity, all you could say was, "good riddance."

[thislittlelog]

If y'all don't mind me elaborating on this particular idea. Probably everyone and their mothers that are into Touhou long enough would know about the Hifuu girls and Maribel having very strong connections to Yukari, leading to people thinking she IS Yukari but from a different time period before Gensokyo's founding (it's a lot of wacky time and dimensional shenanigans, you get used to it) Where does that leave Renko in all of this? Sure, it's likely she would have grown old and passed away like normal while cheering for Merry's success, but I have this strong feeling that she wouldn't want to leave Maribel all by her lonesome if the latest CD in the Hifuu series is anything to go by especially. When I originally made this headcanon I simply wanted for RenMerry to be happy in some way (maybe ReiMari in the process) and really, who wouldn't? It's obvious they actually care about each other in some way and want a better world since the world they're currently living in... isn't. I then started to see a few similarities between Mima and Renko the more I thought about it--for example, their ability to do some form of magic or pull off some ability related to stars (Mima doing star magic, Renko having an ability involving navigation and looking at constellations to see where they're at, which could have been a precursor for star magic in Gensokyo) There's also the one simple fact of--we technically don't know WHEN she supposedly died and became a vengeful spirit wielding a knife in the first game, as the Touhou Wiki even states that she's been around "for a very long time". For all we know, she could have seen the birth of Gensokyo, maybe even been involved in its creation, and none of us, not even the other Hakurei lineage would have known. Perhaps the ritual for creating Gensokyo went awry somehow and someone's life was lost in the process, forcing her to wander the void in Hell until a very young Reimu came along and beat her. Also for some reason, she happens to know what the true power of the Yin-Yang orbs and the Hakurei Shrine actually are, but she's so old she's forgotten? Beyond Marisa simply wanting to run away to the Forest of Magic to learn magic at all (as we have no real clue why she would run away from her home beyond maybe dialogue from Enoko talking about Marisa running away crying, which could mean many things) Why would Mima specifically have her under her wing as someone that's subservient to her, maybe even teaching her magic in the process? Also barring ZUN probably having a harder time figuring out how to maybe implement her into the mainline Windows series for Touhou, what would make her disappear for many years without so much as a peep to anyone? And here's a big one--does Yukari know about her?

Just so many questions, and much to think about!

idk who were the people shipping Mima x Yukari but whoever you guys are. biggest brain ever. holy shit