#Whenever any disaster occurs

[seemusblog]

[satishkumars]

Whenever any disaster occurs, the followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj extend their support to help the needy people through his teachings

#समाज_सुधारक_संत_रामपालजी

#SantRampalJi_AvataranDiwas

#SantRampalJiMaharaj

#SaintRampalJi

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that��ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[wonboni]

CUPID➶ Y.JUNGWON

∝cupid is so dumb

『•˙synopsis: even after endless of hints your best friend still can’t seem to know that you like him.

『∙˙pairing: bsf! Yang jungwon x fem reader

『•˙genre: fluff,crack,best friends to lovers,a tiny bit of angst

『•˙word count: 1.3k

『•˙warnings: jungwon is clueless,reader is kinda hurt

『•˙note: jungwon is so cute in these pics

It’s a familiar kind of agony. A slow, sweet kind of pain that begins in your chest, spreads up your throat, and lodges itself in your head like an annoying song on repeat. You, of course, know exactly what’s going on. You’ve known for months, maybe longer, and yet—despite the loud, blaring signals you've been sending—you’re still stuck in this strange, frustrating limbo.

You’re in love with your best friend, Yang Jungwon. But the worst part? He’s completely and utterly clueless.

It all started innocently enough. The two of you were just two souls thrown together by fate, surviving high school with nothing but each other. Your days were spent with inside jokes, shared glances, and too many hours of studying together. But somewhere between laughing over silly memes and walking home from school, you started noticing little things. The way Jungwon smiled at you, the way his eyes lit up whenever you spoke, the way his voice always softened when he called your name.

And that was when you knew. You were in love with him.

But there was one big problem. Jungwon, your oblivious, socially dense best friend, had absolutely no idea.

At first, you tried to convince yourself that he might just be shy. Maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move. So, you dropped hints—big ones, small ones, subtle ones, and blatant ones—but it was as though you were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand.

---

It was a typical afternoon when the latest disaster occurred. You and Jungwon were sitting in your favorite spot at the local café, slouched over a pair of textbooks. You weren’t really studying, though; you were too busy focusing on the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped the table, how his messy hair framed his face perfectly, and how his lips... Oh, his lips.

You couldn’t help but stare. Maybe you could’ve sworn you were being subtle about it, but honestly, your heart was in your throat, and your stomach was doing flips.

"Hey," you said, your voice slightly wobbly. "Do you think we’d look good together?" You immediately winced at your own words. Was that too forward?

Jungwon didn’t even look up. Instead, he continued scribbling on his notebook, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“Look good together… like, as study partners?” he asked, looking so genuinely confused you almost choked on your own breath.

You blinked. Was that seriously his response? "No," you said, trying to keep your voice calm. "Like… together. As a couple."

Jungwon paused. For a moment, his eyes locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. Then, with all the seriousness of a boy trying to solve a math problem, he scratched his head.

"I don’t know. I mean, we’d probably make a pretty good team, right?" He laughed awkwardly, as if the very idea of the two of you being together was as natural as teaming up for a project.

Your heart plummeted.

"Yeah, we would," you said with a strained smile, hoping he didn’t see the hurt in your eyes.

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

---

Later that evening, as you walked home together, you couldn’t help but feel defeated. Jungwon was humming something, happily oblivious to your inner turmoil. You wanted to scream at him, ask him why he couldn’t just *get it*, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk losing your friendship. Not when the thought of him in any other capacity was so far out of reach.

You were just... stuck.

“I don’t get it,” you muttered under your breath, almost too quietly for him to hear.

“What’s that?” Jungwon asked, not even turning to look at you.

You shook your head. “Never mind.”

“Come on, you can tell me,” he said with that warm smile of his, the one that always made your heart do somersaults. “You know I’m always here to listen.”

It took everything in you not to spill your feelings right then and there. You could already picture it—his confusion, his awkward silence, the way he would likely laugh it off like some joke. So, instead, you let out a bitter laugh and gave him a small, nonchalant wave.

“Just thinking about how ridiculous I am sometimes.”

“Hey, stop that.” Jungwon nudged your shoulder with his. “You’re not ridiculous.”

You stared straight ahead, not daring to meet his eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, but it was painfully telling.

---

A week passed, and Jungwon’s cluelessness only grew more pronounced. In fact, you were beginning to wonder if he was living in a different dimension entirely. There was one instance where you thought for sure he would catch on.

You were walking home from school together again, and the air was getting colder. Your hands were frozen in your pockets, and you decided to try one more last-ditch effort.

“Jungwon,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady, “What would you do if someone confessed to you?”

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like... a confession confession?”

“Yeah,” you said, playing it cool. “Like, if someone told you they liked you, what would you do?”

He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I don’t know... depends on who it is, I guess.”

Your stomach flipped. You could feel your heartbeat rising. This was it. The moment you’d been waiting for.

You pushed yourself to ask, “What if it was... someone you really liked?”

Jungwon blinked at you, then let out a small, nervous laugh. “I’d probably ask them if they were sure, and if they were, then… I guess I’d go for it?” He gave you a confused smile. “Why do you ask?”

Your heart sank. “Oh, no reason.”

---

Finally, one evening, as the two of you sat on the couch in your living room, Netflix playing in the background but neither of you paying attention, you decided to confront it head-on. You were tired of playing this foolish game. Tired of wondering, *What if?*

“Jungwon,” you said, voice small but determined. “I have to tell you something.”

He paused the video, turning to face you with a look of concern in his eyes. “What is it?”

You bit your lip. This was it. You had to say it. You had to say the words that had been swirling in your heart for so long.

“I like you,” you whispered, hoping the weight of the confession would finally force him to see what had been right in front of him the whole time.

Jungwon blinked, his eyes widening as though he hadn’t expected this at all. Then, without skipping a beat, he smiled that ridiculous, adorable smile of his and said, “Of course you do! You’re my best friend. I like you too. We’ve been friends forever!”

You froze. “No, no, Jungwon. I mean I like *like* you. Like, in a way more than friends.”

For a moment, he stared at you, utterly dumbfounded. Then the gears in his brain started to turn. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“Wait… like, *that* kind of like?” he stammered, his face now flushed pink.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and hope. “Yeah. That kind of like.”

Jungwon’s eyes widened further, and then—finally, after what felt like an eternity—he grinned, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes.

“Wait, so... this whole time? When you kept dropping hints... you were serious?” He burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought you were just messing with me!”

“Jungwon!” you groaned, face burning. “You’re impossible!”

But Jungwon only chuckled and scooted closer to you, his expression softening into something much more tender. “I guess I’m kind of an idiot,” he admitted, “But... I think I like you, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He smiled, his usual playful demeanor now replaced by something far more sincere. “Guess we’re both fools for love, huh?”

And just like that, the game was over.

And you, for the first time in what felt like forever, could finally breathe.

©️ WONIBONI

[lyndaris]

Tanlorin lore from Andrew on bluesky:

Link: https://bsky.app/profile/mexicancryptid.bsky.social/post/3ldyw5icwy22a

Their parents: much like Cait’s parents from Arcane. Largely matriarchal & their mother the head of the family. She’s domineering, controlling, and very aware of their family legacy.

Tan’s mother is from a line of talented mages but a well respected line of architects, many of which had a hand in building Alinor. All the more reason she’s so cautious about her family’s image as it reflects on Summerset itself.

Tan’s father comes from a smaller family of artisans. He’s softer, quicker to kindness but still involved with altmer politicking. 4th son of his own family, and likely had to play a little dirty to secure such a high status marriage. Early on, he was likely more accepting to Tan’s eccentricities but quickly bent to their mother’s wishes. Becoming more of a bystander in Tan’s life.

Ousting: it was not an impulsive decision, Tan spent years trying to get a handle on their magic and their family even got tutors and special training. At first, they thought it was a lack of magical aptitude, embarrassing for the family but not the end of the world. But as they got older their magic got much stronger but they had any ability to control it.

Andrews example: like the force of a house fire held back by a plastic water gun.

Snapdragon’s research, she hints at a disaster occurring that was a result of Tan’s magic. People got hurt and it wasn’t the kind of thing Tan’s family could hide anymore. So when Tan came of age, their mom had the tattoos placed and ousted them from the family.

Tattoos: Multiple Sapiarchs in unison applied their tattoos. It was an arduous process & extremely painful at times, but they had others on hand to heal and tend to Tanlorin. Would’ve taken place over a couple days with some time in a ward to heal afterwards.

After being ousted: Tanlorin got next to nothing after being ousted, a pouch of gold to get them started, enough for a modest inn room and safe passage to Auridon but no provisions, gear, etc. They were expected to live like a commoner.

The only personal effect Andrew believes Tan would care enough to bring from home is a charcoal portrait of their family. Something they would have done themselves while still learning the ins and outs of high society, but Tan lost it ages ago.

Their thief years between being ousted and joining the Garland Ring are blurrier than Tan would like to admit.

Their hairstyle pre-exile: Longer than it is now. They never knew what to do with their hair, they let their chambermaid decide based on their mother’s wishes or bundled it in a messy bun/ponytail.

Grand-mere & Siblings: Their grandmere was the previous matriarch. Frequently hung around the manor to “offer her thoughts” on the family affairs. She wasn’t one for an idle life of retirement.

Andrew believes Tan has two younger siblings, much younger. Tan was early and unexpected, but not a mistake. It was years before their parents had more kids.

If Tan was ousted around the equivalent of 18 years, their siblings were around 8 & 6. Tan was never close to them if only because it was clear to them they were a problem child and didn’t want to rub off on their younger siblings.

Chirrabi: One of their first friends in Auridon, from best friends to lovers to enemies, and a little bit of everything. The kind of friendship that whenever Tan visits feels like no time has passed.

[voxfuturi]

Headcanon time!

As we know Silver lives in a very unstable portion of time, where mild changes result in disaster. Radically altering the world he lives in and what he returns to in the future. Noone except Silver is aware of any of these changes, they have no recollection of any number of disastrous events or ruined futures. They are aware that an event happened in history, and was stopped but that was all.

Silver however, is aware of all of them. Due to his state of temporal being constantly undergoing flux from time travel. He has numerous irrelevant memories of lifetimes that no longer exist. He's recalled dozens of childhoods that never happened, friends who were blipped out of existence by the past being altered, days and events that never occurred to the future he arrives at but happened in one of his 'previous' futures.

This condition makes it difficult to remember the 'history' of his world as it appears to the Mobians that live there. Since he has a first hand account of many events, or knowledge of events that didn't happen since he went back and stopped it.

These other states of existence fade with time but return at inopportune moments. Silver has a difficult time tracking what 'when' actually is, since functionally when is Whenever he decides it to be.

There are consequences to this besides making it difficult to socialize with people in his own time period. He will likely out live anyone who isn't functionally immortal since the influence of the Sol/Chaos Emeralds repeated use to travel between times has chronologically 'locked' him into one state of being. As long as they exist, he will retain knowledge of his previous selves and aging will be negligible if not unnoticeable. Destroy them, and he would get hit with thousands of years all at once.

There is a part of him that wants to live in the past forever, since his experiences would be temporally relevant.

One past version of him did attempt this, and it lead to Silver travelling further back to undo the mistake.

In short it makes him pretty unhinged to talk with, if you get on the subject. So when in his home world he tries to keep to himself as much as possible.

[sunnydayroleplay]

What is your headcanon on what Joseph Cullman was like before he was trying be a better person? Was he doing illegal activities or something bad? What was his day to day like as the old Joseph Cullman? What was the old Joseph Cullman like as a person and wat made Joseph want to be a better person?

Before I continue this head-cannon, yes I am back loves! And for good this time. It's been awhile, I've been super duper busy, but that's not gonna stop me from now on. I'll be posting on the weekends and the occasional Friday! (Or whenever I feel like it during the week) Thanks for the continuous support despite all that!! Now with that said...

Contents Inside: Joseph Cullman, Mentions of Drug/Substance Abuse, Alcohol, Child Abuse, and other sensitive topics.

18- DNI, this is a NSFW post and so is the game it is based off of. This is an 18+ community. It is for your own safety, and you interacting not only jeopardizes that, it jeopardizes mine, and the creators of the games.

---------------------------------------------------------

From what we can interpret in the video tapes of his interview, we learn that he was a "rebellious" child in his high-school years. Getting a tattoo, a few for that matter that are rather obviously large. It'd be surprising if his parents didn't notice a thing.

But before we can ask why that is, we have the question of:

Why is Joseph so rebellious and reckless in the first place?

Any good ol' fashioned Southern American family would teach their children some common manners, right? Or despite the undertones of possible racism and homophobia that were very common and still undergoing a "wipe-out" in a time where that would occur, children were still taught to treat their own kind how they'd want to be treated.

Now, I have talked a tad bit about Joseph's childhood and backstory before, which can be found here. (I also already sorta answered half your questions, but I wanted more detail in this post.)

To sum it up, I suspected that Joseph wasn't always this "bad child" that he always seems to hint at. He had good loving parents, a good school life, and plenty of good influences on his young, curious nature. He was nurtured but protected against the world that young children don't need to know about yet. But like an unfortunate amount of marriages, they all lead to disaster. Financial struggles appear. Maybe some ongoing infidelity, addiction. The marriage just got rocky, and the moment the curtains were closed, it was just one argument to the next.

"His parents couldn't afford to have a kid anymore. So they started neglecting him. Putting him up for adoption was a no-go. What would their parents think. Or all their peers the next time they got a job and suddenly everything went alright? They'd be right back to where they once were."

The moment Josephs parents began to neglect and ignore him, Joseph was oh so young, but old enough to comprehend that this is a life or death situation for him. He learned this via abuse. Whether it was his mother belittling and destroying anything that made Joseph chuckle remotely, or his father coming home from work drunk and letting off some steam on him.

"With the constant shitty home life, his school life was affected enormously. His grades went down, and he just got around with the wrong people. He was like any "out of place" child. All he truly wanted was attention and some sort of leverage to lean against. Someone to just listen because he's used to being ignored."

(Read the post, because I now realize I don't know how to summarize)

With that "summarized", we now know what his childhood was most likely. Take this with a grain of salt.

In the "Bad Yogurt" Ending, Jack says “You’ve changed. You’re clean now. You can be whatever you wanna be.” Leading me to believe that Joseph followed after his fathers footsteps. Alcohol and addiction to drugs. In the interview where we learned about how Joseph got his tattoos, which was in his high school years. Because of this I've come up with another headcanon/scenario.

Because Joseph was forced to grow up too fast, and practically raise himself, he's a smart kid. He doesn't believe he is, but he's truly a smart and talented kid. Though papers and his grades say otherwise, Joseph could turn everything around in a minute or two if he chose too. However, due to the gravitational decline on his mental health and home life, he started to underage drink, and get his hands on any drug that was available for him.

One day, Joseph and his 'crew' got invited to a house party. It's late, there's drinks, lights, music, and everything is fired up. After long joyous hours and a couple twenty shots, Joseph is fuuuucked up. Passed out on the couch. You wanna know what people do when they're young and drunk? They do irreversible stupid shit. Joseph got his lovely arm statements by either being so passed out that his friends decided that this would be a perfect canvas to paint on, or he was "consciously" agreeing to this work of art we see on his character sprites.

With a soft opening to the wounds of his childhood and teenage years, how was adulthood like? I doubt it wouldn't be easy, or that he could get away with more things as easier. I feel like Joseph chose to be a better person compared to his old self because of the fact that life would be even more shittier as it continued and that despite saying he wishes he would die, he's just as afraid of death as his 10 year old self. So, if he wanted to live a better life for himself and regain his sensitivity of self again, he had to fix himself up.

To answer your question of "Was he doing illegal activities or something bad?" Your answer is yes, and here's a list.

-As said before, alcoholism starting at age 16.

-Drugs, and at some point did attack people because he couldn't get said fix.

-Would sell himself for money.

-Robbed local stores just to have something in his system for the week minimum.

Joseph knew he had to better himself, and comparing all of this to the interview tapes-- If you didn't know a thing about him beforehand, you would've thought he was a perfect guy.

But we all know that no one is perfect, ain't that right?

[sunny-mercya]

Locked out of Heaven

Rei Furuya/Amuro Tooru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist

Being told, in a bar during the latest hour of night and having a drink together once again, by Jinpei—who's one of his best friend and who he had known since the start of the police academy, which he had created memories of adventure and troubles they lived all through together, till one by one of their group started to pass away from tragedy filled deaths by the reaper itself—to take care of his (soon to be) spouse, if the case of Jinpei's death ever occurred, was a weird conversation for Rei to ever had.

Especially when kept in mind—Jinpei knowing this sort of secret as well—that Rei had (or still has) a unrequited love towards said spouse—you—and than being asked to take care of them, was repeatedly to say weird.

So when Rei had gotten the SMS from your older Sister, days later, that Matsuda Jinpei had died in a bomb explosion—like your brother Kenji before—and you're not responding to her and she fearing you're being a grieving destructive self-harming wreck (once again), Rei literally had abandoned every sort of work—and thank goodness, it wasn't during any important undercover mission in the Organisation—he had and drove as fast as he could towards you.

Stepping inside your house—once Jinpei's home too—having a spare key, the first thing he notice—besides the shattered picture frames on the floor and the mess like disaster—was the loud repeated song, mixed with your gut wrenching sobbing, of Big in Japan.

Big in Japan was the song which caused Jinpei and you to fall in love with each other, so hearing it—after so long—caused pain in Rei too, because even though he too loves you, so had it been Rei who had pushed Jinpei in your direction—during a nights out in a club, to celebrate something—to finally have a dance with you and starting the flame of love between Jinpei and you.

And when Rei sat down next to you—having you found curled up in the bedroom on the hard wooden floor, shivering and soaked wet from a sweaty fever—pulling you into his arms, hugging you close and telling you soft hushed whisper—trying to ease your sobbing and giving comfort and support—that everything would be okay once again and that Jinpei, his friend and your boyfriend, didn't suffer from any pain and is being reunited with Kenji and the others in heaven and looking out for us—Rei too, after clutching onto him so tightly helplessly of decaying hope and any will to continue to live, started to cry and weeping in grieving with you together through another night.

All because, that damned song reminded him too much of Jinpei.

~~~

Whenever Rei recalls the conversation he once had with Jinpei—during the first months and a year after the funeral—Rei had thought at first that Jinpei had meant it such context, to not leave you alone and being there for you—giving you support and comfort when needed—but now? Two years later, Rei believes his friend had meant in a whole different way.

And Rei realised, after noticing the way you smiled at him—a smile which finally reached your eyes again and had so much warmth—filled with genuine love, that perhaps—after Rei noticing his own warmed cheeks and the soaring like heart, whenever he's near you—Jinpei mean it to make you love again, a person he trust and knew would be nothing but good to you.

So Rei had asked you and you said yes, then he asked for a second date with you—a third being planned, a fourth comes up next—and all the way to being in a steady relationship with you now.

Does Rei sometimes feel guilty to finally—after all these years of having an unrequited secret crush on you—being together with you under such circumstances? Yes, yes he does.

Does Rei regrets it in any way? No he doesn't.

Sure, Jinpei would be forever your first love—it's a love which always burns bright—but Rei knows, your love towards him is just as genuine and precious truthfully.

Okay, it does feel a tiny bit strange to be together with you and living the same house Jinpei once had lived in, but after adopting Haro it was better to move in with you—especially when you have adopted a dog, named Toji, as well.

~~~

The sun peeked through the half closed curtains, tickling Rei's nose and shining a bit onto his face—making him groan in annoyance from being awoken, ever so slightly, like that—turning around to you, circling his arms around your stomach and pulling you closer to him.

The pitter patter of tiny paws which rumbled through the corridors and towards the bedroom, were thunderous loud in the ears—and Rei counted in a whisper from ten to zero, at two he felt the jumping weight of two dogs onto the bed.

You too, after getting wet kisses of two snouts and tongue licking onto your face, groaned out—getting more awoken with the passing minutes.

»It's your turn to have a walk with them...« you said, voice heavy coated with sleep and sounding hoarse, to Rei and turning in his arms to face him—Haro and Toji jumping in the middle, making their space between you two, wanting have to have some snuggles as well.

»I know, but how about we sleep some more, these two certainly wanna do.« answered Rei, hand coming up to your hair—combing his fingers through it and ascending downwards to your face, caressing your cheeks.

You only hummed in agreement, already falling back asleep and Rei smiled—glancing to the picture of Jinpei on your nightstand, whispering prayer and small gratitude thank you—before kissing your lips.

Even when Rei would be locked out of heaven—he would be fine with it—as long as he is with you through the rest of his life on this humble earth.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

The journalist John Vaillant’s book “Fire Weather” begins in the spring of 2016 in the boreal forests surrounding the remote Canadian city of Fort McMurray, where a fire is growing. Although wildfire is a regular part of life in northern Alberta, this fire was destined to be different. “A new kind of fire introduced itself to the world,” Vaillant writes. 

Ushered in by soaring temperatures, drought and high winds, this wildfire obliterated thousands of buildings, forced 88,000 people to evacuate and turned downtown Fort McMurray into an apocalyptic hellscape. At the time, the Fort McMurray fire was unprecedented. But Vaillant saw it for what it really was: a harbinger of terrifying things to come. 

Inside Climate News spoke with Vaillant about what we can learn from the fires currently burning in Los Angeles; the parallels between this disaster and what happened in Fort McMurray in 2016; and what we should expect from what he calls our “century of fire.”

“We’re going to have to let go of a lot of the 20th century,” Vaillant said. “That’s what these events are telling us. The 20th century is over, and we really have to rethink how we do everything, from how we get our energy to how we build on a planet that we have made much more dangerous.”

KILEY BENSE: Can you talk about the connections between climate change and the fires in Los Angeles? What are the causes of these fires?

JOHN VAILLANT: We’ve seen a lot of local [blame]: It’s,“Well, the governor didn’t do this, and the mayor didn’t do that, and that reservoir wasn’t full.” None of that would have made a bit of difference. Whenever those 100-mile-an-hour winds are blowing, it just doesn’t matter who’s in charge. Who’s in charge is the wind; who’s in charge is the fire. And who made it worse is human beings by burning fossil fuels at an extraordinary rate for 200 years straight. 

My tendency is to look at things more systemically, and what climate change does is it takes naturally occurring phenomena and makes them more intense and more erratic, and also creates conditions for them to occur in places they didn’t normally occur. We all know Southern California is flammable. It’s part of the rhythm of this landscape. But they hadn’t, historically, had to deal with fires of this intensity with this frequency. And so that’s the other thing: these events are going to happen more and more often.

California really is in a position to move the needle globally on climate change, because it’s the fifth biggest economy in the world. If California took a particular stance on petroleum, took a particular stance on building codes, took a particular stance on insurance coverage in dangerous environments, it could set the tune. This is an opportunity for Los Angeles to be a leader in building for the 21st century.

BENSE: Could you talk about how we have to rethink firefighting? Particularly for a fire like those in Los Angeles, what are some of the challenges that modern wildfires pose to firefighters?

VAILLANT: “Twenty-first century fire” is a term I coined in “Fire Weather” to try to encompass this new fire situation we find ourselves in, which is hotter and drier, makes fires able to ignite and move, propagate and grow, often exponentially faster. 

Exponential growth is a concept that humans have a really hard time with: the doubling, doubling, doubling, doubling, doubling, and how fast that happens. That’s what fires do. That’s how they can grow. 

We saw that to terrible effect a couple of nights ago. This blowtorch of embers descended on Pacific Palisades and Altadena, and you cannot fight a fire in those conditions. Even the planes were grounded. The winds were so strong they couldn’t even fly, and your fire hose is going to blow right back in your face when it’s blowing 70 miles an hour and the heat coming off, it’s like a blast furnace. Think of a bellows in a foundry. It’s huffing and puffing and intensifying. That’s what the winds, the Santa Anas, were doing. 

As I interviewed firefighters for “Fire Weather” in these catastrophe zones, they said the firefighting operation became a life-saving operation, and that’s really the only realistic thing you can do until the wind settles. The fire is simply unfightable.

When you have a wildfire coming into the WUI, the wildland urban interface, and entering a community across a broad front, often over a period of days, that’s called a siege event. It’s quite a militaristic term, but that’s what it feels like: You are being besieged by the fire. In those circumstances, firefighters don’t get any rest, and because it is so hot now, because nights no longer cool down the way they used to, you don’t get the dew that you used to get. It means the fire, in many of these cases, is expanding aggressively during the night. This did not used to be a common characteristic among wildfires. Now it is.

The difference between fires and firefighters: They both breathe oxygen, but one of them gets tired and one of them doesn’t. The fire doesn’t get tired, but many of these firefighters have been going for two days straight. It was the same in Fort McMurray. It was the same in Redding, California, in 2018, and in Lahaina. Our bodies aren’t made for that, and you’re doing intense physical work under the highest stress, operating heavy machinery, and you haven’t slept in two days, and you’re probably under-hydrated, you probably haven’t had time to eat, you could very well be hallucinating. 

[sophieinwonderland]

Whenever I see disasters like with antimisinfo's post and stubbornness, I wonder how long it'll take for them to realize their error. A year? Two years? Five? Ten?

Anyway, while you repeatedly showed that DID being caused by trauma is not phrased in absolutes, you didn't show any specific examples. I mean, that post was already long enough already (maybe one of your longest?), but do you have any case studies? Also, is it normal to be a little safe like that, or will they just say "this thing that we thought could potentially not have been 100% linked to [x] definitely is" (obviously not like, ptsd, which by definition requires trauma)

I haven't found any case studies yet, sorry.

I think a huge part of the problem with DID and trauma is that amnesia is a defining characteristic, and that includes amnesia of traumatic events.

You can look at a patient and say "this patient has no memory of trauma," but they could just have amnesia. You can look at their history and find that there are no reports of trauma, but that doesn't mean it never occurred.

The amnesia is a double-edged sword in this debate, making both positions unfalsifiable.

If DID can only come from trauma:

You can't prove this because some patients won't remember the trauma.

If DID can come from things other than trauma:

You can't prove this because it could be argued that any case study used as a counter example simply is someone who doesn't remember trauma.

...

So, yeah. I think it's normal to be safe like that rather than claim one single cause for 100% of cases when they can't prove a claim like that.

Personally, this isn't a debate I'm too invested in. I do believe there are very rare cases where someone might develop DID with no trauma at all. But I know there's no way to prove it.

Unless we can learn to see trauma in the brain with 100% accuracy and had hundreds of DID patients scanned to see if they were traumatized, I don't think we'll ever get definitive answers to this question because of the nature of DID and amnesia.

[siruswhack]

Cirrus info/lore dump

I have not been in a writing mood, just getting my words out on Cirrus. Headcanons at the end.

Name and Design:

He’s named after the cloud, and his color palette somewhat reflects that. Dark greys and blues are the most prominent, with yellows to break up the monotony. It also serves as highlights, ensuring that he isn’t a blob of darkness when I draw him.

Cirrus clouds are ultimately harmless, only providing light showers of rain, but they’re usually a sign that heavier storms are approaching. The clouds themselves are light and wispy, comparable to his physical state.

He doesn’t see much point in cutting his hair, and is fine at its current length. Unfortunately, there have been misgendering problems in the past (more are to come).

His outfit isn’t particularly notable, being the standard clothes that the Pokèmon Unbound protagonist wears. Dark blue jacket, black shirt, yellow highlights. Cirrus highly prefers the cold weather over the heat, and it mildly soothes his lungs.

Short king.

Backstory:

Note: in this universe, his mother’s name is Aella.

Cirrus grew up with a severe lung illness that persists to this day. Especially as a baby, hospitalizations were common when he’d stop breathing altogether. Aros was extremely worried for him, both before and after being locked inside the Cube. He was close to joining the “dead son” club.

Cirrus survived infancy by the skin of his teeth, though not without minor damage to the lungs. Breathing’s a problem, physical exertion is a disaster. In early childhood and adolescence, hospital admissions were still frequent, though began to dwindle down. It was only natural for his mother to worry and fuss over him, keep him indoors and away from anything “too dangerous” or risky. His sickness is only worsening with age.

Cirrus, not being one for the outdoors, found joys in the little things. Flower arranging was a fun one (though it never lasted long thanks to cold weather), then chess (finding a partner besides his mother was rather difficult), and finally, embroidery. It’s a quiet task, allowing him to spend his hours in relative peace and quiet. Another point of interest was also Pokèmon behavior.

His twelfth birthday gift came in the form of a tiny, squealing Vulpix. Aella was keenly aware of his liking for Pokèmon, this was the best gift she could’ve given. It was barely a month old, but that didn’t stop the two from getting along immediately. What was not to love? It was small, could fit in his lap, quiet, and just as reserved as him. The coldness from its fur was just an added bonus. A flip through an old book gave him the idea for its name: Artemis.

Artemis wasn’t the only “friend” he made, though most didn’t stick around for long. The occasional Snorunt under their house, maybe even a Delibird if he was lucky.

Character & Story:

Cirrus is…immensely sheltered, thanks to his childhood. He cannot comprehend the idea of someone acting out of pure malice— in his mind, everyone has to have some sort of logic whenever any action is taken. Being “good” to others is the ultimate purpose of life, even if others have some trouble following through. Pure evil? That can’t possibly exist.

His illness complicated life as a whole. Was he going to make it? Was he going to die within a couple years? Things were never certain for his future, and it’s only getting worse. Cirrus always felt a sense of uselessness in life— he couldn’t live like the other kids at school, couldn’t communicate well, was too nervous to participate in battle. He’s accepted that death was likely for him in the coming years, it’s a surprise he made it this far.

Being “expressive” was never on the list of priorities, but that doesn’t mean he hides his feelings. Actions mean more to him than words or faces.

Confrontation, of course, is also something to be avoided. He’s never faced that sort of situation in his life, and thus, has a sense of panic whenever one does occur. Cirrus constantly tries to downplay any sort of conflict through words (as seen with the Shadows), though the success on that varies.

To him, the concept Pokèmon battling is absurd and cruel. If he hates any direct conflict with others, then other people must hate it, too. Confronting another person is one thing, using Pokèmon to do the dirty work for you is another. On the rare occasion he actually saw battles, it always ended up in severe injury and pain for both parties. He simply can’t understand why anyone would want to participate, given the inevitable outcome of it.

Coward.

Circling back to earlier: he doesn’t believe in evil, even when there is glaring evidence that terrible people exist (most obvious being Aklove). After the Ultimate Weapon is dismantled, he still tries to reason with him. Surely that man is just misguided? Cirrus really tried to understand his logic, tried to rationalize how someone could commit such evils without any remorse or reason. Of course, this fails.

It was a success with Zeph, he told himself. Zeph had a “good” reason for his actions, giving him a pass with Cirrus. Cirrus can’t possibly understand the extent of what Zeph and the other two went through, and thus, forgiving them altogether is easiest. If he could collaborate with them for a greater cause, his rationale was that he could do the same with Aklove. The absolute clownery.

Headcanons:

Loves sweet foods, particularly chocolate. His favorite food is brownies.

His favorite Pokemon type are ice types, with Artemis being the main factor behind it. He finds it sad that they’re the rarest type.

Once tried to sew a cute jacket for Artemis. He still has a long way to go with that skill.

Has been mistaken for a girl. Several times. Come on— that hair length, the short height, the mannerisms? None of it screams “teenage boy”.

His photos app primarily consists of pictures of his Pokemon.

Would try to befriend large, unfriendly Pokèmon. “If they’re not friends, why are they friend shaped?”

Cried when he found out that certain Pokèmon live life in pain. The realization that Psyducks constantly suffer from headaches was a depressing one.

Mildly afraid of steel types, just because they seem “uncanny”. Otherwise, he loves all Pokèmon.

After becoming champion, he tries to take home a lot of strays.

Once tried to bring home a Beartic. “Mom, can we keep him 🥺?”

-X-

Eventual team, in order of who was obtained first: Alolan Ninetales, Garchomp, Azumarill, Clefable, Togekiss, Klefki

Man, if we had Tinkaton in Pokèmon Unbound…

-X-

Statistics:

Strength: 1/10

Dexterity: 8/10

Constitution: 2/10

Intelligence: 7/10

Wisdom: 3/10

Charisma: 4/10

[winterfleursblog]

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒆 (𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒍)

A sequel to "After the storm"

☆ Pairing: Nanami x Fem!reader

☆ Genre: Alternate Reality, Comfort, Fluff

☆ Synopsis: What's a better thing to do than to stroll down a snowy street with the one you love? It's Christmas eve, and both you and Nanami had just gotten out of the hospital. Although both of you were still recovering from major injuries, Nanami was determined to make this Christmas special, 'cause he didn't want to waste anymore time.

☆ Warnings: None, actually, just that the plot doesn't follow along with the manga's ending of the Shibuya incident.

.ೃ࿐

.ೃ࿐

Hokkaido is such a lovely place--the snowflakes fall from the heavens to blanket the earth and the mountains are seemingly cloaked with cotton balls due to the snow. However, none of these compare to the beauty of your lover beside you, holding your hand. He's wearing an eye patch, his right arm is covered in bandages, and any beauty expert would tell you that he looks like a disaster right now, but your rapidly beating heart says otherwise.

Nanami, in a soft voice, asked nicely, and all you could feel were the butterflies in your stomach every time you catch a glimpse of him.

It's 8 pm, and snow was falling while you walk down a quiet overlooking street hand by hand.

"Are you cold?"

"No, I'm fine."

While walking towards the highest spot in the street, you noticed something—your lover seemed to be lost in thought, touching his eye patch at times. Although his expression showed no signs of discomfort, you were worried.

Looking around, you saw very few distant people, which was expected since the overlooking spot was only known by natives. Breaking the silence, you suddenly hugged Nanami from the front.

"I love you, Kento~"

This gesture took him aback as it was out of the blue, and you usually use pet names like "darling" and "love" to call him.

He reciprocated your action and engulfed you in his arms.

"I love you too y/n."

Noticing that he finally smiled, you decided to shower him with affection to get whatever was on his mind off.

"My sweetheart looks so handsome, especially under the snow."

This was followed with a kiss, and he couldn't help but blush.

"Am I really still handsome to you?"

Although he was smiling, you knew that this is what he'd been thinking of for the past few minutes. The answer to his question was of course, yes. However, a simple yes couldn't express your feelings right now.

"Hmm....well if it was my first time meeting you right now.. I'd ask for your number. But since it's been 4 years since we've been with each other, I, as a woman, will ask for your hand in marriage. Does that answer your question, dear?"

Flattered by your response, the blonde man couldn't hide his blush and was speechless.

"Oh, and I definitely mean what I say."

Without wasting a second, he hugged you tightly as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

"I could say the same, my wife."

Now, it was your turn to be flustered. He never used the term "wife" before, and hearing it for the first time made your heart beat fast. Before having a chance to respond to him, he held your hand and took you along.

You finally reached the highest peak of the elevated street, and you could see the busy roads and colorful lights of the buildings.

"Hey, y/n, do you have any last words as [y/n full name]"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"'Cause by Christmas next year, you'll no longer be Ms. [y/n surname], you'll be Mrs. Nanami."

Your lover's sincere smile, accompanied by his sweet words melted your heart. Although he proposed to you the night that the Shibuya incident occurred, he never had the chance to give you the ring because of the rapid turn of events.

Nanami got down on one knee, and reached for a box on his pocket.

"I can no longer imagine a life without you. Whenever I think of Kuantan, Malaysia, I only see us, living under one roof."

"I promise to protect you, even if it costs me my life."

"Of course, dear. I'll marry you in every lifetime we're together."

"Formally, this time, will you marry me?"

This was probably one of the best moments in your life. Everything was just so...perfect.

Gently holding your hand, he placed the ring on your ring finger.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Nanami. I hope to spend all my Christmas days with you."

No other words had to be said. He first cupped your cheeks and seconds after, your lips met each other. The kiss, innocent at first, turned passionate. Sure, he didn't give a speech on why he wanted to marry you, but his lips did all the talking.

After sharing a passionate kiss in the secluded area of the mountain, you two enjoyed the view for a while and went back to your rented cabin right after.

All you wished for was a second chance in life, but somehow, you even got a better—no, actually, the best one ahead.

.ೃ࿐ The end ~

Notes: ART ISN'T MINE ! It belongs to @aozora1227 on twt.

As you've seen, this IS a sequel, so read the my first fic to understand it better (After the storm).

[dorokora]

Chapter 15 Episode 7 Part 1

We start with narration about Toji. Since he’s a minority hybrid he was picked up by a family of exorcists. They thought him barrier technique to control his powers and two magical swords to fight against demons with. Back to present some of the Rule Makers World Reps are trying to defend themselves from the Exters attacks. Back in Future, Toji tells everyone to scatter from the attack. We cut to Michael, who says this Exter attack is intended for him and Amaterasu. Everything is going according to plan. Soon all World Reps will be equals on the same stage. MC and others found an alley way to hide in until Raven shows up in front of MC. Raven says he is a firefighter chief and tells MC to come with him. Barguest warns MC that Raven is a Game Master and MC backs away from Raven immediately. Raven then properly introduce himself. He says the management has roots and cooperation in every part of this public institution in Tokyo. However, as an administrator, they are not in a position to directly intervene or intervene in this ``game.'' However, due to unavoidable circumstances, they will isolate MC from this natural disaster to protect them (-_- yeah right). Raven tells MC to take their friends and return to Shinjuku and not interfere with the game any further. The natural disaster attack that is currently attacking the futuristic city is targeting only the World Reps. And all the World Reps know they have no way to counter this, and their elimination is only a matter of time (good). The World Reps should be MC’s enemies. If they are are to be eradicated, that would be the best solution for them. Raven doesn’t to defeat MC if something happened to them while their guardian (Mononobe) is away. Raven tells them to give up on some of the people who have not been evacuated and need rescue. Unless you want to put the other people you helped at risk. The Game Masters will be responsible for collecting Kyoma Mononobe's memory unit. For them, the purpose is to record the game, and Kyoma Mononobe is part of that system.

Toji steps in and says there’s more behind the scene. They have some info about the World Reps, including the Utopia World Rep. Whenever someone ask about the Utopia World, they always look up at the sky. Flashback to Arc, who remember Azothoth words about another being beside him who resides in the sky. If the World Reps are unable to respond to this extremely high-altitude attack, what will happen to the "Game"? Will the Utopia World Reps who remains at the end be the winner? That is not what Raven and the management want. They should know that after this, "Which world rep will respond and ensure survival to the end?" And that person would choose to continue the "game" without ending it with their own victory. Battle ensues.

We cut to backstory narration about Raven. King Arthur is a human king who is praised like Solomon in other worlds. It is said that when he pulled out the sword of selection, he understood everything about the process. King Arthur is chosen as the Sword of Selection, gains immortality, and is praised like a ``god.'' In order to protect the interior, knights are called from outside. Together as the Knights of the Round Table, they accomplished many feats. And in the end, naturally, the Knights of the Round Table split into four pieces, and that was the end. Thus, King Arthur traveled to Tokyo. With the pseudonym Raven, he was appointed fire chief. In order to witness this "game" in Tokyo, he has a "role" to ward off the disasters of this land. He transformed himself into a raven, not a human, and became a collaborator of the Game Masters.

Back in Future city, Masashi realize that the Utopia World Rep was part of the management side and surviving was their plan. after eliminating the other World Reps, all they had to do was to cause the loop to occur again. Moritaka and Tadatomo are also in future city. Masashi says there’s no reason to fight anymore. Michael elsewhere says in this situation, we can finally prove the imbalance and injustice. He proclaims he will be the best in all worlds. Moritaka and Tadatomo are here to talk about a new possibility with Masashi and Nobumichi.