#and if we're not doing that then whats the fucking point

[raichukfm]

It's a fascinating question and the answer doesn't speak to it at all. We're talking about swapping perceptions, you know, the hypothetical thing that could answer those "What if my blue is your red?" ponderings. Were that the case and you were to swap, you would start seeing everything red as blue and vice versa, but you would be able to tell this. That's a controversial point, but we aren't proposing a full qualia inversion here; your internal concepts of red and blue haven't changed, just the way that your brain maps sensory stimuli to your qualia has. You can imagine red, and it's red as you have always imagined it, you just look at a red delicious apple and you see it as blue. (Actually a fascinating question whether people would agree with this assessment, and has me wondering about people with aphantasia specifically about if they think their 'red as they have always imagined it' can be separated from the way things with that color look to them. I'm getting off track.)

But this swap is different. Semiotics refers to the meanings that things have; for instance, the way you are looking at these squiggles or hearing these sound waves and taking them as a message. I am intending a meaning now as I type these words out, and you are taking away a meaning as you perceive them, and though it won't quite be the same meaning it is related. There's a question of where exactly the meaning you perceive is; is it in the message itself? Is it just contained in the context around it? Was it put there by me? Is it only there when you read or hear it?

And now specifically we're talking about abstract objects, things which aren't concrete; for instance, words as words, not images or sounds but the thing that those patterns invoke. Things where it is already an interesting philosophical question about how exactly it is that they exist. (For those with the bent to ponder it and not just go 'Uh, they just do, duh' because yeah that's fair.) And that's just one example of an abstract object. It's not all messages. There are numbers. There are complex mathematical objects, like groups and rings and fields. Are things like "peace" abstract objects?

If we do this swap of perceptions, so you perceive the meaning of an abstract thing to be the meaning that I perceive... What are you perceiving, exactly? Is it the thing anymore? Is this even truly a swap of perceptions or is it rather a swap of thoughts? If you took one piece of my mental model of the world and swapped it out with one of yours, how would it fit in? Would it fit in at all? It's fascinating.

The world isn't shrouded in darkness. There's not some blinding fog that has settled over everything. You can observe the world, make sense of parts of it, peer into its mysteries and try to think of answers. Yeah, it's confusing and a lot of pieces of it are out of reach but that's just because the world is so fucking big and complicated and so many parts we simply lack the faculties to possess. This question is that lovely kind of philosophical pondering that is fundamentally unresolvable and by all rights has no practical purpose... But we can still talk about it, and in talking about it, we can share ideas and work through how it is we think of things. If nothing else, we can enjoy ourselves. And that's as practical a purpose as anything else.

Don't see something you can't think of how to answer and decide that it cannot be answered and that now is a time to shrink away to safe thoughts that can be trusted. Ponder whatever bullshit that strikes your fancy, and try to think about what the answers would be. Even if you can fundamentally never find out if you're right or wrong, the thinking itself is a worthwhile exercise. Encourage other people to do it too, though don't try to force it; different people have their own sorts of funtime questioning. I've got things like this, some people have how much prep time Batman would need to defeat Shrek in a fight.

equally confounded and obsessed by this quora question and response that i just stumbled onto

[bloggerspam]

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Welcome to the neighborhood

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22

Prompt: Santa

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Single Dad Steve; Single Dad Eddie; Steve is Dustin’s dad; Eddie is Max's dad; Neighbors; Christmas

Steve presses the doorbell for the third time, secretly wishing he'd put on his coat - or his outdoor shoes at least. Nobody has bothered removing the snow from the walkway leading up to the door, and it's seeping into his slippers and socks. 

“Maybe they aren't home,” Dustin says, voice slightly muffled from under his scarf. 

Steve scoffs, mentally cursing Carol for talking him into this. “I saw the car pull into the garage, they're here.” 

He's just trying to decide if he should rap his freezing knuckles against the milk glass pane or tell Carol to go fuck herself when the door swings open, revealing a girl around Dustin’s age. She's sporting a vicious scowl and a shock of violently orange hair. 

“Oh hi,” Steve says. “Are your parents home?” 

She gives them a long, pointed once over. Steve in his slippers and too-thin shirt and Dustin in his knitted Minecraft hat. 

Then, without turning, she hollers, “Dad! It's the hottie from across the street.” 

Somewhere in the house, somebody drops something. There's a barrage of swear words that makes Steve wanna cover Dustin’s ears, and then a whirlwind of black clothes and frizzy curls descends down the stairs and almost barrels into the stack of half unpacked boxes in the hallway. 

“Jesus Christ, Maxine! Sorry about that, I dunno what she's on about.” 

The girl rolls her eyes.

“You said it. Own it.” 

The man glares at her. She grins. 

“Hi,” Steve says again, bravely ignoring the heat rising under his collar. “Nice to meet you. I live-” 

“Across the street. She just said it,” Dustin provides helpfully. “Hi, I'm Dustin, this is my dad.” 

The girl gives him a lazy wave. “So, what do you do for fun around here, Dustin?” 

He shrugs. “I was about meet some friends, throw snowballs at cars. You wanna come?” 

“Ew, lame,” she says, grabbing her coat off another box. “Let's go.” 

Steve watches them disappear down the street, already deep in conversation about something or other.

“Well, then.” The other man extends his hand. It's adorned in clunky rings and covered in paint stains. “Do I get a proper introduction, or are we doing that thing where we refer to each other as Max's and Dustin’s Dad until it gets awkward, but by then we're too embarrassed to ask so we just skirt around it and say ‘hey, you’ for several years?” 

Steve is snorting a laugh before he remembers he's supposed to be mad. 

“Steve,” he says, taking the offered hand. It's pleasantly warm after the frosty air. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” 

“Steve,” the man repeats, and something about the way it rolls off his tongue makes a different kind of warmth settle in Steve’s chest. “Hi, I'm Eddie. What brings you here on this fine- oh shit, should I ask you to come inside? My kitchen is still very much a work in progress, but I got the coffee maker running yesterday, so I could fix us-” 

“It's fine,” Steve lies. He's starting to lose the feeling in his toes. “I just wanted to- … I'm here on behalf of the Home Owners’ Community.” 

Eddie tilts his head at him. “There's a Home Owners’ Community?” 

“Um, yes,” Steve says, raking a hand through snow-soaked hair. “Didn't you get our welcome pamphlet? It has this chees- … um, cheery picture on it. Happy family in their yard with their dog?” 

“Oh, that!” Eddie’s mouth goes round. “Yes, I got that. Threw it out. Looked culty to me.” 

Steve gawks at him. He smiles.

“Culty,” Steve repeats. He fucking told Carol the fucking photo was too much, but did she fucking listen to him? 

“Yup,” Eddie confirms cheerfully. “Why?” 

Steve laughs weakly. “Nothing, just- … I think that's pretty damn bold, coming from someone whose idea of a Christmas decoration is this!” 

Eddie follows his sweeping hand gesture to take in his own front lawn, like he's seeing it for the first time. The giant, inflatable Santa swaying cheerily in the snowy breeze. The grinning crowd of plastic skeletons dancing by its feet. Some have pitchforks. 

The whole spectacle is rounded off by a wooden sign, hand-painted in bright red letters. 

It reads HAIL SANTA. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You see, we didn’t get around to doing anything for Halloween this year, what with the move, and it's Max's favorite holiday, so-” 

“Yeah, great,” Steve says. “But the Homeowners’ Community has rules, and they clearly state that Christmas decorations must be-” 

Eddie pats his cheek. His hand is even warmer on Steve’s face than it was against his fingers. 

“But I'm not part of your little club, unfortunately.” His tone is all honest regret, but the quirk of his mouth and the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes tell a different story. “And I'm not gonna join, so there's nothing you can do to stop me. And if she has an issue with that, I suggest chairwoman Carol Hagan come over and say it to my face, instead of hiding behind your back. Not that I blame her. It's a nice back.” 

“But you said-” Steve sputters. “So you did read it!” 

“You should go home now,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “Don't wanna be seen getting friendly with the likes of me. Plus, you might lose a toe if you stay like that.” 

He nods down at Steve's soaked slippers - they may be unsalvageable by now - then starts to close the door in his face. 

“Wait,” Steve says. Eddie does, peering out from behind the door with large, hopeful eyes. “Does that offer for coffee still stand?” 

Eddie’s eyes light up. So do the led flames surrounding Santa's ghastly entourage. 

Carol can mind her own business, Steve decides. He'll get friendly with whoever the hell he pleases. 

More holiday drabbles

[h4neypot]

instagram – jschlatt

pairing: jschlatt x (fem)reader  summary: random and short jschlatt social media au post genre: fluff

liked by jschlatt, tommyinnit, and 2.3k others

youruser: big guy won't like this but happy anniversary lover ♡

view all 239 comments

jschlatt: Delete this.

↳ youruser: no

↳ jschlatt: Okay.

user1: schlatt being a softie is insane to me

↳ user2: bro bought her a fucking car wym

tommyinnit: get this off my screen thanks

↳ youruser: be nice

↳ tommyinnit: okay, only because you are nice to me, not because i like you or schlatt or anything

↳ youruser: thx

tednivison: wow happy anniversary! miss u guys

↳ youruser: miss u more teddy !!!!!

↳ tednivison: please come see me again

↳ youruser: gotta ask jschlatt for that bud

↳ jschlatt: No.

↳ tednivison: fuck you

user3: wait this is so cute :(

thetuckerkeane: Congratulations you two!

↳ youruser: thanks tucker :D

user4: bf pics of schlatt..... what alternate universe is this

wes10: YAY ANNIVERSARY!!!!!

↳ youruser: YAY WESTON!!!!!

user5: two of the nine pictures including a cat is so schlatt coded

slmccl: very cool

↳ youruser: ur cool

user6: ikea date.. god get married already

↳ user7: like we're all waiting at this point im gna put a ring on it before him

↳ youruser: LOL enough schlatt slander please

user8: this is changing my perception of him wdym he's like in love

↳ user9: parasocial headass.

user10: how long have they even been dating

↳ youruser: this is our 4 years!

↳ user10: omg hi queen

user11: four years is crazy

↳ user12: the fact that we've only known for the past few months he's been dating is crazy

↳ user9: parasocial headass.

result of my scrolling on pinterest :3 tried to make this funny silly but idk i feel like schlatt wouldnt be so open and lovely dovey irl so didnt do too much

[polarisdelphi]

I'll reblog this here, but I was just discussing with my mom (we're not from North America) how freaking WILD this is.

I explained it to her by comparing what's happening here with The Hunger Games. Killing Luigi or a normal FAIR trial isn't enough, they have to kill the image, the symbol he became. Sort of like President Snow had to do with Katniss to stop a riot - and we all know how that went.

They are scared because they have to show to the masses they are stronger - when they aren't. People won't come together if they haven't a common goal or a "leader" figure, and now they do. That's the whole point of The Hunger Games and it's amazing how they are doing exactly the thing that will only make his image stronger (and hey, I only watched the movies, I was working like a farm horse back then and haven't had the time to read, unfortunately)

I'm not here romanticizing him as a hero or as a villain. Real life is much more nuanced. I'm just sharing my two cents of how I see it as a lawyer and after seeing many many despicable people going to normal trials for crimes far more disgusting and horrid than this one.

I'm also someone who has been sick for 5 years and can't get my insurance to cover for a single thing I need and it has been really affecting my family's life, financially.

I'm pretty happy to see these guys scared as fuck and I hope this flame doesn't die fast. For real. That's my position, even if I can analyze things in a more neutral stance.

the level of censorship around this man is ridiculous, what happened to free speech? It’s just his name.

[inhuman-obey-me]

The End Times

Well, here we are. The final lessons have been released, all in a flurry. It's been interesting times, y'all.

JK, they said the world of OM will continue, and we're not going away either. We still love our demonic dumbasses. This is, however, the last lesson of the apps. And, uh, we didn't talk about the last 3 before this either, considering the flurry.

So, maybe for one last time: let's get into it.

(spoilers up to NB Lesson 60)

Nightbringer

The first thing to address here, perhaps, is truly: for splitting off a whole ass second app titled Nightbringer, they really didn't tell us anything about him in the end, huh!

We never did get the answers to what he wanted out of our second set of pacts, what his deal with Solomon was, what his overall goals are, or who he even is. He just showed up, we got some early info on him, and then he basically fucked off for the majority of season 2 and basically all of season 3. At least they did end on a nice little message from him, though, echoing the start of the game...

So will we eventually get the answer to ANY of those major questions? The world may never know...

A Celestial Shitshow

What we do get, first, is the resolution of the whole Raphael arc of this season -- at least, the closest they could come to giving us a resolution.

We do not get a precise answer to what he felt or thought in the moment of Michael refusing to even try to appeal to Father on Simeon's behalf, which he was seemingly so unable to confront at the end of 55. However, after the collapse of Babel, Lucifer and Simeon go to talk to him again, more calmly this time.

The source of Raphael's distress comes down to loneliness. Like Simeon, he remarks how quiet it became in the Celestial Realm when the brothers, apparently the only loudmouth troublemakers that ever existed there, fell after the war. With the possibility of Simeon also becoming a demon, Raphael felt incredibly lonely at the thought of losing another former seraph and friend from the Celestial Realm.

Luke comes up to chime in about being there for Raphael, and Simeon realizes he doesn't want to just leave those "two kids" alone to fend for themselves. With that decided, he concludes that he is not so fine with becoming a demon after all, because he wants to return to the Celestial Realm for their sakes.

MC, with the help of Lucifer's power, then breaks through Babel's projection of collapse, which had reflected Raphael's distraught feelings, to restore it to its actual not-destroyed state, and further uses their new protection powers to return everyone to the Devildom. More on that later!

Also, Michael is a dick again. Raphael is set to be punished for the whole Babel thing, and Michael basically plans to let that happen, until Simeon threatens to "hold it against him" as a grudge. Which is hilarious, because Simeon has no real power or anything against Michael at this point, but angy Simeon is so scary, Michael apparently backs off.

Anyway, setting all the all of that aside, there's also still more SF to get through.

Three Worlds-building Science

In the process of restoring Babel, MC and Lucifer conveniently also remove all the demonic powers/energy from Simeon, so that works out nicely! He's no longer "demonic." However, of course, this couldn't just be such a nice simple wrap-up as that, so next, we get a whole bunch of lore-contradictory worldbuilding around the way cells work for each type of being!

It turns out, while angels and demons both have homogenous cells which are purely one or the other, human cells can actually transform into either one, in the right conditions. And although all demonic energy has been cleared out of Simeon, he apparently still has some of those transformed demonic cells, and it's possible he will have his demonic cells activate or start to transform again in the future. Plus, even with his decision that he wanted to return to the Celestial Realm after all, it's not really in anyone's control out of the cast to do that for him, and the Celestial Realm would not allow him back if he has any demonic cells.

This brings up some pretty terrible implications about the Celestial Realm, which we're not sure were the devs' intentions exactly, but which become implied nonetheless. After all, Simeon's punishment was to become a human, but if it's a known fact that humans can turn demonic and they would refuse to take him back with any demonic cells, even dormant ones, that's just a really shitty trap of a situation! Plus, they were able to convert his cells from angelic ones to human ones, so if they have the ability to change him at a cellular level, why can't they just purge the demonic cells from him in the process of changing him back to an angel? Lucifer has specifically noted before on his transformation to a demon that he supposed that was his punishment, so that also seems to have been a punishment inflicted by God, implying the ability to also manipulate the brothers at a cellular level into demons! And if human cells can become angel ones as well, what does that mean for Simeon's punishment of becoming human? Could the punishment be undercut by his cells naturally turning back to angel cells? Come on, devs, it's called consistency!!

But hey, it's not like this series has been particularly consistent on its lore in the past either...

Anyway, the Science Fair is still going on -- and Leviathan has a mad scientist moment, coming across a unique potion that could help with restoring Simeon back to a more fully human state, ridding his body of any dormant demonic cells! The problem is it requires three very rare and hard to procure ingredients, but it turns out Solomon had also thought about this potion a while back, so he conveniently already has two of the three rare ingredients! Part of the reason Solomon never brought it up before, however, is that the potion only has a 60% success rate and is known to have some pretty bad side effects including the briefest mention of possibly even death???, and with how complicated Simeon's feelings had been up to this point, it didn't feel like there had been a good time to bring all that up.

Deciding that Simeon can decide for himself if he wants to take the risk after the potion is ready, we have a little adventure to obtain the third ingredient that places us back in the Starfall, which we visited during our time in the past. We momentarily have to avoid the subject of the past as Leviathan recalls that you were there, but is brushed off as misremembering because that wouldn't make sense, after all! Haha...ha...

Leviathan makes the potion for the Science Fair, and then Lucifer and MC keep Simeon company while he takes it. Simeon begins to succumb to the potion's effects pretty quickly, but Lucifer steps in to try and take the pain from Simeon and transfer it to him -- with MC then also stepping in to help share it. Simeon ends up not suffering as much, but is still knocked out with a fever for a bit.

Upon waking from his fever and analysis of his cells and some other genetic science, Simeon has now returned to his fully human state, meaning that he should be able to get back to the Celestial Realm! -- if they'll have him.

The end of the game seems to initially imply that he might be reinstated as an angel -- but the very last text we see is that Simeon will be opening up the Angel's Halo again in the human world. So is Simeon still a human? Did he become an angel again but they have him stationed in the human world?? No clear answer!!! Why would they ever end the final lesson on giving us any clear conclusions? Nope, never, and so here we are with no more lessons and yet another big fuckin' cliffhanger.

Well, they did say there are new projects in progress, at least...

Anyway, Later is Now

So, back to MC and how overpowered we've become.

Through this last season, there has been a focus on how much stronger MC has become, especially when it comes to their protective/defensive magic. We know it's because of the double-pacts, but that is a secret from most of the cast to avoid space-time fuckery.

In Babel, MC is able to control this magic for the first time. As mentioned above, we use our pact with Lucifer to break out of the illusion created by Raphael's breakdown, which also clears Simeon of his demonic energy. MC then uses their power, with some guidance by Solomon, to get out of Babel and return everyone to the Devildom.

That's a great sign, as otherwise MC has had zero control over this power activating. Of course, that means we have to use it one last time as the game comes to an end -- but this time, on the moon.

That's right. The Devildom moon is really into MC and is on a crash course to the Devildom (hi Majora's Mask) to also get some of that sweet, sweet MC power. Our cast gets thrust into having to deal with the situation as the final Science Fair competition, because the Research Institute is basically giving them the responsibility (with the House of Lords being ridiculous and not getting the news to Diavolo faster because, um, they suck).

Satan wonders if MC's protection power can be used here and stop the moon on its crash course, so of course that is what we are going to do. Solomon leads you up into the sky, and after a pep talk, leaves you to choose one of the brothers to help carry out this mission. Whichever brother you choose ends up getting knocked out in the process, to protect you. After a few days, we find out how to wake them back up and yay, they're conscious again!

With that handled, it's time for the classic OM tradition, throwing a goodbye party for the exchange students!! PARTY TIME! Everything's good now! Hurray!!!

Does this all seem rushed? Sure. Does it reek of them hurrying to tie up loose ends because this is the last lesson? Yup. How much of this was actually planned in this messy rushed way from the start anyway? Who knows! Did they also leave us on that big Simeon cliffhanger anyway, for funsies? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But that's it for the last 4 lessons! After 5 years, finally, MC has completed all of their tasks...congrats to us!!! 🥹

Now to wait for whatever new projects are coming next...

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How do you feel about aromantic idia

As a headcanon? I love (jokingly) bullying Idia for being a socially awkward and sexually repressed otaku, but personally I also like the idea of him being aromantic. He doesn't like attention focused on him and generally seems to prefer fictional characters (ie his waifus/j) to interacting with real people. However, I think it goes deeper than just that. There's many lines in his Suitor Suit card that hint at Idia being repulsed by romance (even if you remove the context of him being kidnapped and forced to wed a ghost):

"There's no reasoning with people who lose their minds over every little infatuation. Like, just keep your head down and focus on school!" (He prioritizes other things, such as school and dismisses things like crushes.)

"I could never swear my eternal love. There's no such thing, and I'm nothing if not honest." (Here, he denies the existence of "eternal love".)

"Love is just chemicals in your brain. And people call that fate? They're all nuts, if you ask me." (He describes the feeling of love in a cold, scientific manner when this isn't something most people would think that deeply about.)

"Don't leave me. Stay with me forever. ...Oof, these emo lines are killing me. I'm gonna steer clear of proposals for the rest of my life." (He makes fun of typical romantic lines and then outright states he doesn't ever want to propose to anyone.)

"Do whatever you want with me. Just get it over with!" (Idia conveys distress and wanting to quickly be done with the kiss/general romantic circumstances.)

"If you want to talk romance, I'm your guy. I'm familiar with all the popular fan ships in video games and manga. You might even call me an expert." (He diverts the topic of real-life romances to his hobbies; aromantics, contrary to popular belief, can still enjoy romantic media without being attracted to or having limited attraction to real people themselves.)

Beyond his Suitor Suit lines, Idia has expressed upset at romantic love being viewed differently than platonic love. In 6-76, during his post-OB flashback, Idia shows off Ortho to Styx researchers, who are appalled by what he has done. "Wait... You built your late brother?! But that's wrong, Mr. Shroud!" they tell him. To that, Idia says, "So it's romantic when a hero rescues his ladylove from the Underworld, but when I do the same for my brother it's wrong?" He's frustrated that the story about Hercules diving into the Underworld to save Megara is praised, but him going that same extreme distance to revive his loved one--an act of platonic love--is denounced.

Idia is also consistently a character that has been shown to enjoy optimization and efficiency. He doesn't like anything that overcomplicates what can easily be done or made easier by machines. For someone like him, who was raised in isolation and has to bear the guilt of potentially dooming a future partner to the Shroud family curse, I think he'd just say "fuck it" at some point and decide it's ultimately not worth that hassle. It could read like a justification for him if others ask why he never looked into finding a spouse, S/O, etc. Like he'd tell them it isn't worth his time or something to get them off his back.

Of course, this is just my personal headcanon and you're free to agree or disagree with me on it! (I support all you Idia yumes and shippers out there 😉) Let's remember that we're all here to have fun and to not take these things too seriously.

[hoobleboodle]

(READ UNTIL THE END)

The problem is that so many Americans, myself included, have tried what we are told what we should do to stand up against our government and none of it ever works. At the very least, nothing sticks until a new administration reverses whatever the old one did or a couple of rich people lobby politicians to never let it happen in the first place. The alternative to a lot of the corrupt for-profit systems we have right now is that the government takes it over to make it universal -- and we can't trust our government for shit.

You mention people in the streets and how we should do that, but that's easy for you to say when you come from a country where people aren't known to shoot or drive through crowds of protesters they don't agree with. We also somehow have the freedom to protest yet every time it happens you'll see articles of police showing up arresting (or sometimes macing) protestors even if they aren't doing anything wrong. I see it happen all the time.

The people actually have very little power. Everything our government does is just one big pissing contest with the other side. Our freedoms are an illusion. All of us are tired.

...But this is what they WANT. They want us to be tired, distracted, and hopeless. It is no reason to stop trying. The reactions we're seeing from all the higher-ups in response to our reactions in the CEO shooting proves that they are afraid. They know they've fucked up. The news is doing everything it can to paint Luigi Mangione as a supervillain. Our politicians are doing everything they can to make it a partisan issue to take advantage of our dividedness and make us blame each-other instead of them.

Yet, we are seeing anger from both sides. I can confidentally say that I've never seen reds and blues be on the same side like this in my entire life. The absolute worse thing we can do at this point is become silent or start casting blame towards anyone other than the oligarchs ruining this nation.

All these posts about their hypocrisy, corruption, manipulation, exaggeration, and greed that we've been seeing? MAKE THOSE VOICES HEARD WHERE THEY TRULY MATTER! @ your state representatives, submit your experiences and opinions to news agencies who are polling people for content that can be used in their articles, spread resources, if you live in a big city keep an eye out for protests you can support - do whatever you can to get your voice out there safely and legally.

I know we as Americans have fallen into the habit of giving up and not doing anything - just think about all the people who didn't even vote this year and look how that went - but I am begging you not to be complicit in whatever happens next.

STAY ANGRY!

honestly? yall Americans should be out on the streets. Throwin block parties, blasting crab rave, parting and dancing and visibly celebrating the Untied CEO assassination. Make it absolutely clear that yall are happy about this, that the gunman has your support, and that CEOs, particularly of companies that do active harm to your communities, should be scared.

when Thatcher died, the Brits partied in the streets and got Ding Dong the Witch is Dead to the top of the charts. Bring that energy back.

[crow-man9000]

sonic movie 3 thoughts (spoilers below for. literally everything basically + these thoughts are very sporadic)

I cannot express into a fully comprehensive english sentence how much I love this movie. I'm not even kidding, I think it's one of my favourite movies... ever! it tops raggedy ann and andy, it tops nimona, it tops deadpool and wolverine, it tops the mario movie, and dare I say my sam and max spinterest may get drowned out because of this movie... I'm never leaving this fandom tho. I am chained here LMAOOO

I absolutely ADORED all the scenes with shadow and maria! the movies highlighted their relationship perfectly, and I loved how shadow and maria looked up at the stars instead of looking down on earth on the ark because well. yknow. points to the arc-shaped hole in the movie. when she died I kinda felt like that video of that hazbin hotel fan crying over angel dust but um! we don't need to talk about that ^_^

also I fucking HATED gerald. I know we're supposed to but like I wanted to punch through the movie screen and choke him istg HE PISSES ME OFFFFF RAAAAAAAAAAAH

ok. normal now I swear. the chao garden! I loved the chao garden, and when team sonic all wears those chao mascot heads 😭😭😭 THEY LOOKED SO STUPID (SLASH POS) I LOVE THEM

also they said. a lot of things a lot of times. half of the time I was telling my mum "THE FUNNY HEDGEHOG SAID THE THING!" even though she has no idea what the fuck I'm talking about LMAOOOO. especially when sonic said "ok hot topic" I know it was in the trailers but I did not expect a snapcube reference

THE MOON SCENE. I AM NOT KIDDING I HAD MY JAW WIDE OPEN. AND THEY ADDED LIVE AND LEARN??? YOU PESKY FILM MAKERS I THOUGHT THEY WEREN'T GONNA BE IN THE MOVIE BUT YOU GOT MEEE YOU GOT ME GOOOOOOD. that scene was genuinely majestic, when the sun rises over the two of them and then shadow grabs his hand and they go super??? hello??? do you want me to go crazy??? (spoiler alert: I went crazy)

eggman and shadows sacrifices did make me a little upset not gonna lie... stone didn't even get to say goodbye properly :(( please let stone enter his villian arc next movie I think he deserves one... at least we know shadows coming back!

speaking of the next movie, AMY AND METAL!!!! I was straight TWEAKING when amy revealed herself. movie amy looks so fucking awesome GRAAAAAAAAAAAH I WILL GO INSANE!!!!! who do you guys think is gonna voice her? for some reason I can't stop thinking of movie amy as british? london being in this movie has corrupted me.... the british are invading yet another territory: my mind.

overall, this movie was so so good and I absolutely cannot wait for the next one! sonic 4 here we come!!!

no, not you episode 3

[aboutchriss]

walk with me

Pairing: idol!BangChan x fem! reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: chan being a cutie patootie with berry, reader is 22

Author notes: idk, okay?. i'm bored trying to avoid my relatives that are here for the chirstams holidays...please save me...i wrote this to...escape from this house, i hope you appreciate it. i'll probably do a part 2, it's 2:30 a.m here so yeah, and of course it's not proof read! (i'll read it tomorrow) oh and wear sunscreen my kids!!

💌

remember! english it's not my first language, please be gentle with me! let me know if there's any mistastake

💌

requests are open, especially on Christmas!

It's the perfect day in Sydney; the temperature is on point��not too cold, not too hot. It's the right temperature to wear a sundress and a little jumper that you probably won't use because you want to tan before the holidays, even if you want to tan though, you put sunscreen on and lay down on a beach towel in a public park, the grass is green and you can hear kids screaming and laughing while they're playing with a grasshopper and insects, you have a book inside your purse, and cold tea, it's a daydream.

As you lay on the grass, something warm and wet touches your cheek—once, twice. When you open your eyes, you find a small, maybe a little fat dog with a smile on it's face (yes, dogs can smile). You sit down, looking around to find the dog's owner, and there he is the most beautiful, gorgeous man you have ever seen in your entire existence, is it possible? Are you having a heat stroke? He has dark brown curls, the kind of curls you can touch until you fall asleep, he's trying to hide a smile but you can see dimples on his cheeks, he has broad shoulders and big hands, and he looks like a damn Disney prince, are you daydreaming? What the fuck it's happening? "I am so sorry miss" He says in a muffled laugh

did he just called me miss, how old is he? 44? no, that's not possible, he's too beautiful to be this old

"oh, no worries -you giggle- i don't mind kisses from a gorgeous dog like her? are you a she or a he mh?" you say, now talking to the dog that is laying comortably on your lap

"oh uhm, she is right, her name it's berry" he says touching his ear

"Berry huh? what a pretty name" you rub her hear

"well i guess she's comfy there, 'm sorry, she's old and when she lays down somewhere well...umh - he touches the nape of his neck- she stays there for a while" he says looking right into your eyes

"oh, no worries...if you're free we can wait till she gets up" you say patting the place next to you on the beach towel

he smiles and you can finally see his dimples, and boom we're so fucked up y/n.

"your mom didn't teach you to not talk to strangers? i might be a serial killer" he says sitting down next to you

"what about your mom? -you echo- maybe i'm the serial killer" you smile at him

"touchè" he laughs

"i'm Christopher by the way, you can call me Chris or Chan" he says offering his hand

a veiny and big hand

"i'm y/n - you grab his hand and shake it- nice to meet you Christopher" he laughs

"are you from Sydney?" he asks caressing Berry that is still sleeping on your lap

"oh no, i work here, nothing more, what about you?" you say

"I was born and raised here, but i work in Korea, i'm here for the christmas holidays" he explains (not that you can hear something since your too focused on his thick lips, thanks god you're wearing sunglasses)

"Korea mh? and what do you do? CEO in a company? Actor? or you cook kimchi for stray cats?" you ask caressing Berry

he laughs and it feels like the sun just exploded

"I- uh- i'm an idol, nothing special" he shrugs

"an idol?" you echo

"mhmm, i have a group and we sing and dance and stuff like that" he says smiling

oh this dude really loves his job

"stuff like that mh? and are you famous?" you ask caressing Berry's head

"what about you? what do you do?" he asks

"uuuh, you're avoiding the question...is that a yes? you're famous! -you giggle" you say

"shhhh, i'm not, i promise i'm not that famous" he says

"oh...okay..." you look at him trying to see his eyes through his sun glasses

"so...what do you do?" he asks again, caressing Berry's head

"i-uh i work in a library, i own it actually...it's not interesting" you say

"so you read a lot?" he asks

"i do, actually" you say smiling

"and what's your favorite genre?" he asks caressing Berry's body, his fingers brushing against your thigh

"i-do you want the real answer or?" you giggle

"of course i do!"

"smut"

"smut?" he echos

"yes, porn in books, smut, call it how you prefer" you say shrugging

"interesting" he nods

"do you want to grab a coffee with me?" he suddenly asks

"mh? you want to grab a coffee with me?" you ask

"yeah, with you and well berry, even if she might be the third wheel" he giggles

"okay"

"you don't have to if you don't want to, i just asked because you're really cute and yeah i want to know you better" he spits out in one breath

"Christopher i said okay, let's go. I need to know more about your job and i won't leave Berry 'till you make me listen one of your songs, but before we go can i put sunscreen on your face? you burnt your nose" you try not to laugh

"oh? really?" he touches his nose

"mhmm -you nod- may i?" you asked

"sure, go on" he says lifting up his sunglasses

"tell me if i hurt you okay?" you say as you squeeze sunscreen on the tips of your fingers, putting it on his nose in the most delicate way possible

"you're kind you know?"

"i know" you smile

"i feel like a kid...wait i -he grab your hands gently- how old are you?" he asks

"old enough Christopher, don't worry" you smile

"i'm serious how old are you?" he asks

"i'm 22, and you?"

"i'm 27" he sighs and let go of your hands

"damn, what a sigh" you giggle

"i feel like a grandpa" he says

"you're not a grandpa Christopher, not with this body"

"oh-...thanks" he says is it the sun or is he blushing?

"okay, let's go, and by the way, you can't threat me with my dog" he says, getting up, grabbing berry from your lap and offering his hand to you

"what a gentleman! and that wasn't a threat, i just want to...listen to what you do okay?" you say grabbing his hand to get up and fuck he's also tall, and bigger than you expected

"of course i'm a gentleman. and yes, she's my baby, i would do anything for her, even embarassing my self in front of the most beautiful woman in this park with my songs" he says looking at you

"oh-" he giggles

is he flirting?

"come on, i know a good place for a coffee and maybe lunch?" he asks

"i'm right behind you" yeah right behind you staring at your fifty pounds of ass

"you know that my eyes are up here right?" fuck

"no, yeah i know, i was looking for my...purse...yeah my purse"

"liar" he says laughing and you push his back

"shut the fuck up, you've been staring at my boobs the whole time!" you say and he turns around to look at you

"i-did not- okay maybe a little okay? wait...you can see my eyes through the sunglasses" he asks looking down at you

"i do...you can see mine?" you ask

"i do"

"good than we're both idiots"

"maybe a little" he giggles

"come on, let's go we have a 10 minutes walk and berry is heavy"

"ugh, big arms for nothing" you mumble

"i could pick you up with one hand and throw you around if i wanted too" he says walking straight, he and his stupid fucking aura

"damn okay, sorry"

-

ten minutes later you're at the cafe, it's cute and cozy and the sandwiches on display looks yummy, and the man in front of you looks yummy; he took off his sunglasses now and you can finally see his eyes in a decent light, simply brown boba eyes, and you can clearly tell that he is a good man just by looking at his eyes. his eyes are also eating you alive, but again this is another story.

[suzukiblu]

So like, I don’t actually remember where I first saw the concept of soulmates getting access to each other’s superpowers but I very much needed to write something about it. Especially because that thought gave me some thoughts about how certain characters' origins/powers have gotten retconned, and welllll . . . We'll just call this WIP behind the cut here "soulmate superpowers".

The real problem with the marked increase in the global population of superpowered individuals both on Earth and in reality in general is what happens when they meet their soulmates. And the problem also depends, depending on the kind of soulmate. With romantic and platonic soulmates, the problem only happens on and off, which is much more manageable. 

Familial soulmates, though . . . for those the problem isn’t just “sometimes”, and therefore isn’t quite as “manageable”. 

Cadmus didn’t really tell Experiment Thirteen much about how soulmates worked, though, so when the full Kryptonian powerset only kicked in after the Kid met the real, original Superman for the first time . . . 

Well. He hadn’t known that was something he maybe should’ve thought a little more about, at the time.

.

.

.

“Wait up,” Serling Roquette says, staring down blankly at her tablet. She’s sixteen and crazy-weird and brand-new to Cadmus and showed up in wild clothes to apparently run the genetics department now that they’re under new management. Or something like that, Superboy guesses. He only signed on about five minutes before Roquette did, but she asked for a DNA sample to compare to his previous on-file samples and, like, cross-reference with them or whatever, he doesn’t know, he kinda stopped understanding what she was talking about by that point. “You’re supposed to have Kryptonian DNA in your setup?” 

“. . . uh,” Superboy says, because what kind of question is that? “Yeah? Like, no shit, doc, I didn’t get heat vision and ice breath from the human half.” 

Admittedly he is terrible with both of them, but he does have them. He just kinda avoids using them, is all. He fucks enough shit up with his TTK as it is; he doesn’t need to add frost damage and burny melty destruction on top of that. 

He’s thought about asking Superman for tips on ‘em a couple times, but he always feels real stupid when he does. Like, what kind of an even-only-half Kryptonian is he, if he can’t figure that shit out on his own? Superman did. And hell, even that asshole Henshaw did, and that prick isn’t even actually Kryptonian, he just– 

“This is human DNA, youngblood,” Roquette says, looking up at him. “Like, literally all human DNA. Real heavily augmented human DNA, we're talking ultra-crush gravity here, but like–you know, like somebody tried to forge the artist’s signature, but they didn’t actually think to use the right pen?” 

“What?” Superboy says blankly. 

“Do people not actually ever look at your DNA?” Roquette says. “Is that not a thing? You’re a clone, how are people not ever actually looking at your DNA?” 

“People look at it all the time,” Superboy says, still thrown off by what it sounds like she’s saying. That’s–he’s not–what is she saying? 

“Are they, like, mad stupid, then?” Roquette asks skeptically, wrinkling her nose and raising an eyebrow. “It’s literally the wrong pen. It’s the wrong ink. It’s not even a pen!” 

“I have literally no idea what you’re sayin’, Doc,” Superboy says, staring blankly at her. 

“I’m saying you’re about as Kryptonian as a human can get, which is literally zero point zero percent,” Roquette replies frankly, half-waving her tablet at him. “Whoever built you–” 

“Mostly Dabney Donovan, unfortunately,” Superboy says. 

“–okay, well, is Dabney Donovan as much of a lying shithead as I’ve always heard?” Roquette asks, waving her tablet at him again. “Because the data supports him being a lying shithead. He twisted your genes through a Kryptonian-shaped mold, maybe, but they’re still human genes. Fully and totally and like, seriously, does no one ever look at your DNA?” 

“I’m just human?” Superboy says blankly. “I–no I’m not! I have Kryptonian powers!” 

“Yeah, about that,” Roquette says. “No you don’t.” 

“What?” he says. She flips her tablet to face him; stabs a brightly-manicured nail emphatically at a bunch of figures and graphs he can’t understand at all. 

“You don’t have a single superpower except for tactile telekinesis,” she replies, frank and matter-of-fact. “None nada nothing and zip zilch zero. Genetically speaking, you are a highly-specialized highly-flexible telekinetic, but that’s it. That’s all you got in the playbook, youngblood."

Superboy stares at her. She keeps holding her tablet up like he’s gonna just suddenly magically understand what all the figures and graphs on it mean. 

“What?” he repeats, and feels like a fucking idiot about it. 

“When did you get the Kryptonian powers?” Roquette asks. “Like, did you come straight out the cloning solution with those, or . . . ?” 

“I didn’t get any yellow sun in development,” Superboy says, feeling–disconnected, sort of, and a little numb. What does–that doesn’t–he’s Superman’s clone. Like, only halfway, but– 

If he’s not Superman’s clone . . . is he just made out of that piece of shit Westfield, if . . . ? 

“Okay,” Roquette says. “So did you get the powers soon as you hit daylight, then?” 

“No,” he says. “I didn’t–not until–” 

When did they start kicking in? It took a few weeks or so, he knows. Maybe . . . maybe a little bit longer? It was– 

“Did it happen before you met Big Blue, or after?” Roquette asks real pointedly, and Superboy thinks he stops thinking, maybe. Just–everything in his head disappears all at once, and his mind goes totally blank, and . . . and he . . . 

“I’m not–I–” he tries to say, and doesn’t even know what he is trying to say. 

“Yeah,” Roquette says. “Like I said. You don’t have Kryptonian powers. You’ve got your soulmate’s powers.” 

Superboy stares at her for one more second, then bolts out of the lab without another word.

[aerospectrum]

Dean felt taken back by the way she rolled her eyes at him and his eyes went wide with her accusatory and pointed words, but worse than that it was the way she talked about Cas-- as if she even knew him! As if she even knew what they'd been through.... he wasn't still hung up on him... not his dick anyway.

Dean half hoped Madison would stumble and flop right on the floor with how rough she yanked herself out of his hold, his brows curved downwards in a harsh stare- ready to rip right back into her... until she started reaming herself... instead of him. The guilt came to a rolling boil before it spilled over, watching how Madison's face turned pink and her brown eyes watered Dean wasn't sure how to fix it and fighting in a bar was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

Dean chased after her the second she left, but it was when she reached for the door handle in her drunken rage that Dean felt all that rage from walking in and seeing her in the grip of a bunch of lowlife bar scuzz burst right back to the surface. But it morphed-- it morphed into genuine anger that she'd let herself get that fucking tossed.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Dean grabbed Madison by her shoulders and spun her around so her back was pressed against the door and window of her car. "You think you're that invincible huh? You think I don't give two fucks about you that I'd just stand back and watch you get yourself killed behind the wheel?! Jesus christ you're fucking worse than Cas, you know that?!" he seethed with the type of fear that made him incapable of not yelling even with the waterfall of tears from Madison. "If none of this meant a thing I wouldn't be here! I wouldn't have spent the night calling you and filling up your fucking voicemail if I didn't give a shit, Madison! I told you already-- I'm not fucking around here- I'm not that guy. I get it, I fucked up-- I stood you up, but I called to tell you where I was! I called to explain, I called and asked you to fucking come have a date with me in the goddamn fucking stupid as shit er and you wouldn't pick up your damn phone!" his face flushed red, his eyes brightened beneath a soft gloss of heightened emotion.

"You can go ahead and call me the same as all the belly to the earth motherfuckers you've dated. I'm not gonna force you to change your mind-- but you're not gonna blame Cas for this-- or his dick." he added awkwardly. "I'm over Cas- he's over me, we aren't together- we're not fucking behind your back and laughing at you. You're not worthless and you're not pathetic and you do deserve better.... and I'm better! I thought I'd be home by 7 for you to pick me up. I wanted to go out with you-- I wasn't trying to stand you up, but I did and I can admit to that. It was shitty and wrong of me and I'm sorry. But you're not gonna go out and get wasted and try to get behind the wheel of your car- I've seen too much of that go south. I'm not losing anymore people to shitty 2am decisions, now give me your fucking keys and you can walk the hell home if you decide you're too badass to come sleep off your soon to be raging hangover at my place."

Madison was ripped away from the tender affection she was receiving & it was confusing.

She had stumbled a bit at the aggressive yank & she looked up at the culprit. It was Dean. That handsome, son of a bitch.

It took a moment to process what he was saying & when everything registered she huffed, “atleast a sap can be upfront about everything meaning nothing.” She rolled her eyes, “oh you wanna help? Wanna play hero?Im just some stupid bitch huh?” She bit back, “help me find a man who can respect me & not stand me up. Help me find a man who isn’t still hung up on his fucking ex’s dick.”

Madison ripped her wrist away, “you made me feel pathetic & you know what, I can finally accept that.” She wobbled in her heels & ran a hand through her gorgeous messy bun. “I am pathetic, & I am worthless & I should just go out & enjoy my fucking life instead of thinking I deserve better.” She gave him a rough shove away. “And I have you to thank for that. So thank you!” Her voice was raising & her cheeks turning pink, eyes getting glossy. “Thank you for showing me I’m not worth a god damn thing & every man I meet, no matter how tall & handsome & smart & funny, & charming is just like everyone else!”

A few tears slid down her cheek & she reached over to the table to snatch her purse away. Madison did her best to walk toward the door that was bouncing & blurry. Madison managed to make it outside & to her car, but everything was so blurry, she couldn’t grab the handle.

Eventually she gave up & just leaned her head against the window & cried. The alcohol finally taking full advantage of her emotional state.

[growth-opportunities]

Your wife has been going to therapy for her size greed. Her boobs are already the biggest of everyone she knows. But one look at your new neighbors and your wife relapses.

"Honey, come down from there. Stop leering at the poor girl."

"Hah! Poor? With tits like those? The only part of her that I have any pity for at all is her lower back."

"Just leave her alone. If anyone sees you looking over the fence, I'm not going to defend you."

"What defense could I need? God, Paul, she's doing yoga in a fucking bikini that has to be three sizes too small! Anyone with eyes would want to look at that!"

"Baby, please. She's still a teenager for the next six months and I don't think her parents would be as understanding as you want them to be. Remember the affirmations that Dr. Whitney taught you? Your body is beautiful. You don't need to compare-"

"I just..."

"And, need I remind you, as busty as that girl is, you are still bigger than her."

"I know! I know, it's just that... Remember my freshman year of college?"

"Babe, it was a long-"

"Remember my freshman fifteen?"

"....Yes?"

"Remember how just about all of it went to my tits? How I doubled in size by spring break? How each pound added to my body just made my bras and my shorts tighter until I was overflowing, bulging out of every-"

"I get it! What's your point?

"So if I doubled in size, then so could she! And she's starting from so much bigger than I did! She'll be massive! Enormous! She'll be-"

"For god's sake, Rachel, get a hold of yourself!"

"Please Paul? Just one more transfer. Just one and then I'll be done."

"Rach, I don't think that's-"

"Come on, baby. Tell me you don't want to see me that big. Tell me you don't want to feel tits that fucking big overflowing your hands or between your lips or completely smothering your hard-"

"Alright! One more. And then we're seeing Dr. Whitney three times a week."

"Deal! Oh, baby, you're not going to regret this. Trust me, I'll make it worth your while. Fuck, I'll probably be able to smother your whole head between them!"

[peppermintquartz]

Explicit Rockon under the cut

Happy holidays y'all.

---

Deacon grunts with every thrust upwards, sweat rolling off his face and neck to soak into the sheets beneath him. He feels like he's been at this forever, but with the view on top of him, he doesn't really mind.

Rocker's head is thrown back, his throat exposed as he rides Deacon, his hard cock bouncing obscenely as he moves. He's leaking copiously, too, the head shiny with it, and Deacon wishes he's flexible enough to take that angry red erection into his mouth while he fucks up into Rocker's perfect, needy hole.

A slight change in angle has Rocker clenching around his cock with a gasp, his massive thighs shuddering. Deacon tightens his grip on Rocker's hips and thrusts harder, faster, his gaze sliding up from the enticing cock up that strong abdomen to those fantastic tits where Deacon's already left several bite marks, along that muscled column of neck to Rocker's gorgeously flushed face.

He's beautiful like this: torso gleaming and pink, perspiring freely, curls damp, mouth open, eyes half closed. Occasionally his tongue laps over his lips, and soft "unh, ah" sounds are punched out of him with every roll of his hips, every thrust of Deacon's cock. His big hands have been secured behind his back.

Another adjustment in angle hits the mark. Rocker cries out, precome bubbling out of his cock, and Deacon smiles in triumph as he picks up the pace.

"C'mon, baby, c'mon, show me, show me how good I make you feel," he growls, thumbs digging into the curve where thigh meets pelvis. Each time Rocker pulls up a little to slam his hips down, Deacon can see where they're joined, and it drives him a little more insane every single time, having Rocker exhibit so much trust in him, so much love to allow this intrusion.

"Deacon, Deacon, Deacon," Rocker chants helplessly, eyes open and tearful as he gazes down at the older man. "Please, Deacon, I want, I can't -"

"Yes you can, you know you can," Deacon urges. His mouth is so dry. "Come, baby. Come on. You know you can do this, show me how much you love me, show me Donovan-"

The name has barely left Deacon's mouth when Rocker cries out and his body locks up and he climaxes, come spurting over Deacon's belly and chest. A bit even lands on his beard and mouth and he licks up what he can, his hands keeping Rocker steady.

Rocker's shoulders sag and his body relaxes. Slumping forward, he takes a few breaths, and then he shakes free of the bindings around his wrists and takes Deacon's hands from his hips to pin them above his head.

"Alright," he says, voice rough from sex, "your turn."

With a coy smirk, Rocker resumes the ride, bouncing on Deacon's erection, and this time Deacon lets himself fall into bliss, his hips hewing up and his cock carving into Rocker's hot, willing body, the pace picking up until his senses narrow down to that one point of contact, and he comes with a shout.

When he wakes up, Deacon momentarily forgets where he is and panic flares through him. But he soon remembers when he feels Rocker's mouth on the back of his neck and thick arms tightening around his waist.

"Donovan, huh," Deacon says as he rolls over to look at his lover.

Rocker wrinkles his nose. It's cute. He's cute. It's ridiculous. "No one really calls me that other than my brother, and he usually says Donny."

"So can I call you Donovan?"

"Only when we're alone," Rocker says. He looks uncharacteristically shy. "Wouldn't want to blush while at work."

"Okay." Deacon has to kiss him for looking adorable. Donovan. That sounds really good in his head. Snuggling closer, Deacon kisses Donovan once more and his hands slide round to cup the younger man's ass. "You think I can make you blush once more before I have to leave?"

Donovan grins. "I think you can try."

[jollyreginaldrancher]

The newspaper was a prop in the show... it's accurate. I don't have time to do a complete timeline right now but from what I recall they crashed. Three days later they found the lake according to Jackie. They jumped in cause they were sweating and gross and dehydrated but they were already complaining about the cold. Jackie walked in and immediately swore "Fuck, it's freezing". If you look at the sky it was cloudy and the lighting was cold and all washed out. Then Blood Hive, Jackie's complaining about the cold again, sees Lottie in the water, asks if she's cold, the sky is cloudy, etc.

They establish that it's late Autumn/early Winter really early on in the season is basically what I'm trying to say. Like, look at this, does this look like Spring/Summer weather?

A day or two after they find the cabin they held the shooting trial. They were out of food and the cabin food wasn't viable so we're left to assume they ran out of the airplane snacks. Then they hunted that deer and there was talk about it lasting them a few weeks. By episode 6 the land stopped producing fruits and nuts and when they did Doomcoming they were resorting to eating maggots they dug up off the ground and had resigned themselves to the fact they were going to starve to death (ergo the doomcoming moniker).

Another indicator was the Deer Lottie saw in episode 6 with the bloody horns. That deer was rutting, which is what they do in the winter months, usually from January on, after rutting season, but due to malnutrition and disease, and other factors may be earlier, like in November or December, which alligns with my theory. The deer they caught was shedding and it was diseased and full of maggots after all, and food was sparse, made even sparser by the yellowjackets and their hunting and foraging in the local area, which may contribute to an earlier shed.

Jackie had been giving up food to Shauna from that episode too. Van cracked a joke about it being beaver season which I know is just a joke but beaver season does actually fall in fall and winter, so it's ironically accurate with my theory. Taissa says in the next episode that the one animal they've seen in weeks is a dead sick deer, so presumably it's been a few weeks since they caught the live one. Misty proposes the animals migrated, which again makes sense in fall/Winter. And Taissa has her "[soon] it's gonna be dying-feels-like-falling-asleep cold" speech. All indicators that it's fall.

As for the baby/pregnancy, there's many possible causes for a distended stomach, and many a unicef commercial featuring starving people, even children, with distended stomachs. Her pregnancy is not a good metric for time because we don't really know the date of conception. We know though that Shauna had sex with Jeff more than once, we're just assuming that she only got pregnant the last time she fucked him, and not at any other point.

We know after Jackie died, it took two months for her to be consumed, and we know that Shauna seems to have given birth during the winter. What we don't know is anything about her gestation (like I mentioned earlier, she could have gotten pregnant way earlier) OR the birth. We assume she gave birth to a fully formed fetus, but we never saw it. For all we know she could have miscarried 3-4 months into the pregnancy. We never saw the baby so we really have no way of knowing, and the girls could have easily lost track of time and assumed it was coming soon, or she may have revealed she got pregnant earlier offscreen, or Misty could have deduced she was further along, or that winter could have been particularly long. They lived near mountains after all. It wouldn't be implausible for winter to last a month or two longer.

Either way, the pregnancy doesn't really prove much. It's way too vague a timeframe and we have too little information on it. Like if we knew exactly when Shauna and Jeff started to have sex, then maybe we'd have a timeframe for her potential inception date, but we don't really get that in the show so it's pretty impossible. All we know for sure is that had a miscarriage or stillbirth. We don't know anything about the baby realistically though, aside from the gender, which means it was definitely over something like 9-11 weeks in utero.

I did google it briefly though and it seems Winter in the Canadian Rockies (Where they reportedly crashed) lasts from November to April, but can be covered in Snow up til May, with the coldest month being January, so it's entirely possible for her to carry the baby til January, where it seemed the coldest and they got that snow storm, or even April, having gotten impregnated in November, and for her to deliver in January-April a 3-6 month fetus that was too young to make it.

I don't have time to really delve into this, but it still very much looks like they crashed in November.

five months jackie lived out there. five months she lived and breath. and they said that she died the day the plane crashed. jackie taylor has an empty grave inscribed with the wrong date.

[kinichval]

when our paths cross again

missing your flight to inazuma and crashing your ex's place for the holidays is certainly not in your 2024 bingo card, nor is it your ideal way of celebrating the year-end. but here you are anyway.

content. ex!scaramouche x fem!reader, modern!au, angst, tension, YEARNING, profanities. | 3.1k words.

december 23rd, 20:34.

“i deeply apologize, ma'am. however, the earliest available flight to inazuma is 72 hours from now.”

great. great.

is the world punishing you for splurging the past three days before coming home to inazuma for the holidays by miscalculating your estimated time of arrival at the airport?

not only did you not have a place to stay, your wallet is tight on cash, and also the fact that you're basically stuck in sumeru for the rest of december unless you wait a whole three days ‘til you're flying back to inazuma. it wouldn't be a problem waiting if you didn't have businesses to resume after the twenty-fifth.

sighing in defeat, you could only offer your gratitude to the lady behind the desk for accommodating your concern. neither does she hold any power to twist your situation favoring the happy ending of eating a delicious buffet with your family, drinking wine all night, and unwrapping the gifts that were held in secret for who knows how long.

now, you sit by the window of a small cafe near the airport. a cup of warm americano accompanying your bummed out ass on this extra cold winter night. there's no snow blanketing sumeru city, but tonight puts you on the border of frostbites with this god awful truth that you won't be home for the holidays.

and then there's that additional layer of coldness that hits your skin when you stood up and was about to exit the cafe, destination still in progress, but all thoughts are cut off when you look up and find sickeningly familiar purplish, cool-toned irises staring at you with wrinkled nose bridge from that scrunched up expression that makes you want to slap the hell out of him.

what a fucking self-entitled bastard to be the one looking all disgusted at this displeasing predicament when he was the one saying “we should break up.” four years ago on a just as cold monday night in december.

“are you not going to apologize for spilling cold water on my shirt?” you hiss, shivering underneath as the multitude of glaciers penetrate your skin.

“why would i apologize if i meant for it to spill?”

an asshole he is, scaramouche is a fucking asshole.

except you're in this asshole's passenger seat because apparently you're too broke to afford a few more days of ‘vacation’, so you're—not by choice—accepting his offer to spend christmas with him at his place.

considering the menacing scheme he pulled, you're wary of other ill-intent motives he has tucked in under his visage of kindness.

you grit your teeth. great. this is not what you wrote to santa, sadly there's no return system and you have to endure whatever bullshit this man is envisioning in his mind.

december 23rd, 22:08.

so far, scaramouche is acting strangely kind after purposely tipping his glass of ice cold water on you. the drive to his apartment was quiet, except for the series of korean r&b songs he hummed along to; he opened the car door and brought up your luggage to his unit; and he asked if you wanted a meal or snack.

“you're being weird. what do you want from me?” your cold tone mirrored the air of december, your eyes narrowed in disbelief and pursued to unveil the mischief playing in his head. “you're in a situation, i offered help, you accepted.” he simply responds as if it's a common thing to do for exes, for exes who have never seen each other for four years.

“how are you so casual about this? we're exes.”

“would you rather get hypothermia out in the city looking for a cheap and open place to stay?”

“i—”

“if you did, you wouldn't be here right now. but look at us.”

he has a point. he only offered, it was you who accepted.

part of you wanted to walk away out of pettiness and embarrassment because you knew if this reaches your best friend's ears, you'd be sitting down and earning an earshot of a lecture from her about not reconnecting with exes regardless of the situation.

“okay fine, you win. i'll just sleep here tonight and i'll be on my merry way tomorrow.” exhaustion is already catching up to you, a yawn escapes past your lips. “you can sleep in my room, i'll be in the other bedroom.” there's that casual reply of his again, words spill out of him like this was just a normal, platonic conversation.

“it's even weirder sleeping in my ex's room, i'll just stay here.” you pat down on the soft cushion on his sofa, scaramouche shrugs and accepts your decision.

how odd of you to expect that he'll insist on having you sleep comfortably in his room?

december 24th, 2:21.

it's even odder and definitely out of character that scaramouche is still within your sight after declaring that you'll be sleeping a few hours ago.

but what the hell are you doing chatting and bickering with an abandoned christmas movie in the background?

somehow, you don't find it in yourself to push him out of your sight.

all those hours of biting back and forth had you writing notes of his life after you—the life that consisted of him being eligible for an exchange student here in sumeru city to which he proved he deserved that he was offered a scholarship to transfer in the esteemed akademiya, scaramouche will be graduating next year.

and you want to slap yourself for that one second of thinking what would be a nice graduation gift.

you also learned that scaramouche shares this apartment with a guy named sethos, he's currently on a holiday vacation which cancels out the wandering thought of why does scaramouche's apartment have two bedrooms.

and about his little stunt, he admitted to swearing to himself that when he sees you, he will pour water all over your top—with high hopes that you're wearing your favorite shirt—and see that horrified expression that he believes will satiate his reasonable amount of hate towards you (no, he doesn't hate you but he won't admit it.)

on the other hand, scaramouche now knows why you're stranded in sumeru and why your wallet forces itself shut in your pocket.

as one of the well performing employees in the company, your boss included you in his entourage for this business trip in sumeru. the schedule was a hassle, it was an almost three week business operation because christmas was in the middle of the whole thing so there's four free days to which your boss decided to go back to inazuma then return on the twenty-sixth. you followed his plan, come home for the holidays—you even spent the morning of the twenty-third buying presents for your family and peers—then fly back on the night of the twenty-fifth to continue your job.

but alas, you were late to arrive at the airport. underestimating the christmas rush in the center of the city, traffic clogs the road causing frustration as everyone was thinking of the same thing: it's christmas.

and you were old enough to know that santa wouldn't give you a miracle that someone was willing to give up their seat in the next flight to inazuma, not that the thought didn't give you a flicker of hope. but you end that idea with a bitter chuckle.

“why didn't you come home for the holidays?” you wonder, your mind traveling back to the last few christmas if he ever flew to inazuma to celebrate the winter holidays back home.

“i don't come home during vacations.” he avoids your curious stare when he answers, seemingly having more words stuck in his throat that he swallows. 

you don't press it further, you know that scaramouche makes up his mind whether or not the reason behind a decision is substantial. 

“is sumeru better than inazuma?” curiosity is getting the best of you, it's an innocent query to anyone. maybe you were just trying to gain insight because of migration plans or vacation ideas. “well, i like it here.” his response has you tilting your head, a subtle sign of wanting to know more.

“i don't know, i'm surviving here so i guess it's not that bad.”

“are you coming back to inazuma after you graduate?”

“no.”

the zero second gap between your sentences startles you. it intrigues you, a quiet voice telling you to find whatever truth he keeps inside his heart.

because despite scaramouche doing most things according to the law of just because and how he wants things to be, this one seems to bear a reason that he dares not to tell a soul.

there's a weighted silence draped over you, but you feel the tempting force to keep scaramouche here overpowering the former.

december 24th, 12:49.

the afternoon rays of the sun pierces through your skin as the wind gently blows the curtains allowing the sun's presence to grace over your slumber.

rubbing your eyes, you try to recover the memory of last night. oh, right, you and scaramouche… in his apartment on christmas eve, what a totally normal ex-lover reunion, truly.

hell no—

“how long are you sleeping? it's afternoon already.”

scaramouche's voice rings through your ears and suddenly you want to deactivate your sense of hearing. your brain cogs were turning, processing a remark that will hopefully crush his soul, his whole life, his dreams, his—

“lunch is ready. get up while (favorite dish) is still hot.”

and you're bolting to the kitchen, accidentally bumping on the corner of the wall, but all is well as you hide the pain in your knee under the dining table.

“you cook now?” you raise your eyebrow. four years ago, scaramouche only knew how to heat up food and modern era's favorite instant noodles. 

“how do you think i survive?” he retorts back, handing you an ice pack before sitting down across you. “that must've hurt. deserve.” he strikes, you squeeze hard on the ice pack which quickly returns your pressure with the coldness it possesses.

four years later, scaramouche changed, but somehow you still feel the same scaramouche you loved lingering. you wonder if who you were four years ago would believe that this is what happens four years later—that you'll break up on a december night and find your ex lover again on a december night.

albeit the second night feels much more colder than the first fall of snow. ironic, because sumeru doesn't experience a snowy weather.

you flinch at the contact of the ice pack to your poor knee, your face contorts. scaramouche fights back a laugh, you hear the slipping sound of him swallowing it down, “just hold the ice pack, i'll feed you.” your brain freezes, unable to wholly process his words and he's already moved to sit beside you, grabbing the spoon and put in front of your lips.

you comply anyway, parting your lips to let him feed you. it's your favorite, you didn't want to pass up the opportunity even though your face is already heating up because why the fuck is scaramouche so close—you're already in his apartment, if that's not already an invasion of personal space (as exes) then you're at loss with the chaotic beating of your heart clouding your perception.

scaramouche continues to feed you, alternating his own portion in between. scaramouche is kind, but he hasn't pulled any mean gimmicks, there's the unfriendly remarks and triggers of annoyance—but he's not acting up. not yet, you suppose.

maybe he'll pull tricks on you on christmas.

a gift of revenge, you thought he would think of it as such.

december 24th, 17:31.

you're unable to read what exactly is going on in scaramouche's mind. is he carefully watching your steps align with his plan and waiting for that go signal to surprise you with the ultimate revenge or is he secretly still in love with you and he's trying to win you back through the little things he knows would matter to you?

either way, you couldn't reject his offer to drive down the city on the evening of christmas eve.

“is this how you spent christmas since you moved here?”

scaramouche pursues his lips into a thin line, eyes still on the road, he takes a few moments to respond.

“depends, last year i just slept through the whole thing.” he shrugs it off, your shoulder drops and a deadpan replaces your anticipating look.

“but i drive a lot at night.” he says, your eyebrow raises, “you're not from here so might as well make this a free vacation.” he finally glances at you, albeit teasingly.

“what kind of ex does that?”

“your ex.”

air gets stuck in your throat, why the fuck did it sound like he's still giving you the right of ownership? your ex. yours, even if he isn't.

“did you not date anyone in the akademiya?”

“why would i?”

“i don't know. did no one seem interesting or did you get rejected?”

“they're not you.”

scaramouche is charged guilty after all.

december 24th, 18:00.

scaramouche opens a can of carbonated soda, the fizz loud enough to turn your attention on him. the stars are twinkling bright over your heads and they hear your longing.

the stars know about your yearning.

the breeze of the night grazes over your skin, you flinch at the coolness, wrapping your arms around yourself. the two of you sit inside his car, windows rolled down; scaramouche brought you to where edge of sumeru.

the coastal highway, a familiar scenery.

ah, right, scaramouche has always been expressive of sitting down staring at the ocean beside the road.

“so—”

“i—”

eyes nervously look at each other, the enemy-esque banter is out of the window when you realize that the both of you aren't trying piss the other off.

scaramouche gulps, heaving a sigh.

“i'm sorry, yn. i'm sorry for leaving you.”

you're confused, why would he apologize after four years? you remember vividly how his last words before he turned his back against you was “let's break up, i'm sorry.”

your heart sinks, unable to yield a thought. it seems you're paralyzed as if all the suppressed feelings that you buried were resurrected and has you on chokehold.

“are you sorry because you still love me?”

scaramouche is silent, he doesn't look at you.

“i'm sorry because i didn't know what to do and breaking up seemed to be the only less damaging route.”

he reasons as his head lowers down, eyes fixate on the can in his hand, “i love you, but it didn't take rocket science to see that we were ruining each other.” you notice the bitter smile curve on his lips.

“yn, i know you were sacrificing too much for us. i know that any more of it will break you.”

“no—”

“you can't tell me otherwise when i saw it in your eyes that you needed to breathe.”

well, curse the fucking tears for ruining your supposed composed being. you hate believe his words.

“i needed you, scar.”

you did, you desperately needed your scar to save you from the chaotic world.

“but i needed me too, yn. and you needed yourself.”

oh.

“then, why do you hate me?”

your voice cracks.

“if i hated you, i wouldn't have looked your way back in the cafe.” he chuckles, “if it's because i spilled water on you, that was just me trying to get your attention.” he admits, your heart tightens.

“four years since we broke up and i still love you, yn.” he chugs down his soda, doing all that he can to avoid seeing your teary eyes, “it's not that i didn't fight for us, i did. but how can i let you suffer like that when i'm already short of what i promised you? i was compromising both you and my future.” he hears you sob and he breaks, his heart equally as broken as yours.

after all, you two truly were in love.

but love as it is will never be enough.

“if we stayed, i'm afraid i'll lose you in the worst way.”

“losing you is already the worst, scar.”

time is a lousely doctor, because until this moment, there's a silent plead for the other half to come back—to love again.

“i'm sorry, scar.” you cry, reaching out to hold him but fall mid-way. your memories flash before your eyes when the nights leading to the break-up consisted of more sincere apologies than the warmth of ‘i love you's.

it kills you to hear more ‘i'm sorry’s.

well, the last blow, the ultimate death was when you heard ‘let's break up’ because after then, you won't be hearing his voice.

you bitterly laugh to yourself, you realized it would've been more painful to hear apologies like it's your routine, a cycle of missteps that muttering a sorry is also part of the egg shells.

you knew no one was to blame, but someone had to cut that cycle. if it had to be scaramouche, then so be it, even if he had to suffer knowing that you suffer because of his loss from your life.

and he knows that if you had realized it sooner, it would've been you who saved your individual lives.

now, silence envelops you, the high tide moves the waves further to the shore allowing its crash to be heard from your position.

december 24th, 23:11.

you and scaramouche still love each other, there's a mutual hope for things to fall back into place. but time isn't the same as four years ago, neither are you and scaramouche.

for all that it's worth, you lay in his arms, his chest heave behind your back.

for what love can allow you to be, scaramouche settles his chin on the crown of your head.

for what you know should just be, yours fingers are intertwined and small bits of laughter blend in with the air as you share moments in your life that made you thought of the other.

you wish for scaramouche to come back as your lover and for you to love him unconditionally, without the constraint of losing yourself.

because you and scaramouche changed over the past four years, and if love allows a second chance,

“i will get to know the newer versions of you than ever think of meeting someone else.”

but alas, things won't be that easy for love alone can not hold a lifetime.

and so, as the seconds inch nearer to christmas, you only have one wish that you hopefully will come true the next year—

“i want our paths to cross again, and maybe then, we can start anew.”

“i'll catch up to you, yn.”

december 25th, 00:00.

merry christmas, please find me again.