#what are thoughts i can't even articulate

[leeknow-thoughts]

𝅄  ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

[fascinationstreetmp3]

I have what you're looking for. High quality. Befitting a man of my tastes. I have a room over on Divisadero, not too far a walk.

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Bloopers: A fucking list on the neck kissing scene because what the fuck

Incoherent ramblings of the neck kissing scene in the bloopers because I've gone to sleep, woke up, and I'm still insane over this

This is a scene. Not a shot. It's a fucking SCENE. It could be 2 minutes for all we know. What the fuck.

Alex/Taylor's wearing the same outfit as he did on the plane from Paris back To the US. (blazer, purple-grey shirt, no tie)

Henry/Nick's in a fucking bathrobe.

This looks like the Paris hotel room, and it looks like morning

This looks like they're starting something: Henry/Nick's in the process of being lowered onto the bed

Neck kisses, enough said, I want to cry

Is this the shot or B roll? It's kind of a weird angle to shoot such a scene? Or is that just me?

Again where the fuck was this scene gonna go? Make out? Morning sex? Alex is fully dressed though? The fuck?

The way Alex/Taylor's fulling covers Henry/Nick makes me weak

I love kissing bloopers so much

This makes the "you're such a cretin" scene look more improvised and natural???

This blooper would work in character!!! Obviously it's Taylor and Nick but it would also be something Alex and Henry would do!!!

Again I just fucking love how they're comfortable enough with each other to make jokes like this it's so fucking sweet

This is what Taylor talked about in the GQ interview, isn't it? "One of us would say something stupid"

I can't stop thinking WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SCENE. WHAT THE FUCK IS IT. AND HOW MANY MORE DELETED SCENES ARE THERE THAT WE DON'T EVEN KNOW EXISTED

PRIME COME ON, RELEASE THEM ALL, OR PROMISE YOU'LL RELEASE THEM DOWN THE LINE, OR BETTER YET PUT EVERYTHING INTO A DVD PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU

[knickynoo]

Two of my favorite little scenes from BTTF part II are the moments where Marty stops to watch his parents in 1955. I mean, he was only just there living through those events one day prior, but he didn't actually have a chance to soak any of it in or process it. (He'd come flailing into the parking lot just after George punched Biff but hardly had time to appreciate any of it on account of his picture still fading, and then at the dance, he was. You know. Actively being erased from existence up there on stage for a while.)

Even though the stakes are still unbelievably high when he returns to '55 to try to track down the almanac, and he's just experienced what may be the most stressful and terrifying day of his life with all the 1985A nonsense, he makes it a point to slow down enough to watch his parents at the dance. And there's just this look on his face—a mixture of awe and relief and happiness. You can tell. You can tell this is getting permanently etched into Marty's memory. He's taking in every detail. He's holding tightly to these sweet moments of watching his parents (who had been unhappily married most of or all of his life) FALL IN LOVE. A real, true love that he's never had a chance to see them in before.

Not to mention the fact that in the reality he'd just arrived from, his mother had been forced into marriage with Biff, and his father was dead. Marty's just come from a place where his family had been completely destroyed, and now he's watching the very foundation of it coming together. This is the beginning of it all, and it's a reminder of what he's trying so hard to save and get back to.

And it's so very nice that we see him hitting the pause button for a few seconds in this chaos-fest to look at his mom and dad with such love.

[donut-entendre]

I say a lot that Wash isn't empathetic when talking about people giving him Carolina's personality, but I don't think that really explains my thinking. Empathy is too vague of a concept in discussion of character.

Wash cares a lot about people. Wash cares so much it hurts. He trains the Chorusans without being asked, on his own initiative. He doesn't leave the reds and blues at the first sign of trouble. He's traumatized by violence by his own hand that he still agrees with the logic of, he remembers what he's done to people and while he doesn't regret it, it still haunts him. He doesn't want to care so bad but he does, he cares so much that violence against relative strangers hurts. Even if it was his best choice. Even if it was his only choice.

Carolina doesn't want people to know violence like she does. Carolina wants to tackle the whole world to keep it away from the ones she loves. Carolina wants to be the one to handle everything, to keep war off the doorstep.

Washington knows violence, and well. He thinks it is something that sometimes is the best option. He knows how to make the people he loves capable of protecting themselves. So he does.

Carolina is someone who wants to protect. Washington is someone who wants to teach people to protect themselves. Carolina wants to be the one to offer shelter in the rain. Washington wants to burn the fire so hot and so bright the rain evaporates before it can ever touch them, so hot it never even comes down, so bright no one could ever get lost. And he wants to teach everyone he cares for just how to do it, too.

Just in case it ever rains.

[wiedzm1n]

you know when you come across a cool character and you're like "man, they would be pretty fun to write" but then the character is also really, really smart and ur like ...2+2=35??? or is that just me

[dawdlecentric]

Man, this doujin isn't fucking around

Meanwhile, Seikuri in the background...

Doujin: Flashbackers by Totobe

[ghostofthepresent]

never trusting anybody ever again. what do you Mean dance song.

[scramble-crossing]

no please tell us your joshua thoughts i insist

You’ve hit me at a crucial moment of procrastination and utter dread. ON HIS BIRTHDAY.  Ideal circumstance to talk about Joshua.

Right off the bat though I’ve gotta say that a lot of this is probably not the most canon-adherent stuff and also only Josh-adjacent in some cases since I tend to focus on how he relates to other characters + the series’ worldbuilding over his actual self-contained character. I like him and all I just have the most fun using him as a narrative tool for the characters I like a little more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

First of all, I usually put Joshua as having died and become Composer sometime between 1900-1920 following a near-and-dear headcanon that Kariya became a Reaper during the cultural shift of the 1920s with the advent of the salaryman lifestyle-if you’re going to sell your soul for guaranteed work it might as well come with the perk of being able to spend most of your existence lazing around the city instead of being boxed up in some itty-bitty cubical.

However this is mostly based on the assumption that Joshua predates all of the Shibuya Reapers. Otherwise they would recognize him, right? In opposition to this I really really love the headcanon that all trace of a person���s existence is erased from both the RG and UG upon becoming Composer (or any position higher than Conductor). In that case I think it’d be fun if Joshua came shortly after Kariya. They knew each other at some point.

^When Kariya confronted him and Neku in W2 Josh had a brief moment of “Holy shit does he remember me?” before Kari said he was alive and he got the biggest, shit-eatingest grin on his face. Yippiiiiie!!! Oily Josh has wriggled his way out of consequences once again!!!!

(Kariya is aware that there was a change in Composer sometime during his run as a Reaper. He sensed the city shift with it. The way it sings now, it’s almost…familiar? He doesn’t think about it too deeply, it saddens him a bit if he does)

Speaking of Josh & Friends, @starocide has a ton of very very fun ideas about Joshua and Coco being partners during their Reaper’s Game and it being the connection mentioned in That One Interview. That’s gonna be a whole separate essay one day, suffice to say for now that the Joshua from A New Day was reminiscent of the person he used to be, but twisted by Coco into a mocking caricature of himself.

(Coco doesn’t remember him, but she knows who he is. Joshua remembers her perfectly, but it doesn’t matter anymore.)

The Toxic Shithead Squad continues with Minamimoto. I have a LOT of thoughts about Joshua and Minamimoto.

By far the most interesting thing about W2 for me is just how much Joshua talks about Mina. Not just talks about, describes. He’s a math fetishist (rude) he’s an attention-seeker (rude…but fair) he’s the magic word I’ve been thinking about for the past two years: lonely. I think it’s incredibly interesting how many judgments of character Joshua makes about this guy despite the fact that we’re given no inclination to treat him as some sort of cat-whisperer or someone who’s in a position to understand Minamimoto at all. For the pure intrigue of it I like to see a lot of these calls as being accurate (idc if it’s cliche or corny, imply to me that Sho, somewhere in his heart of hearts, craves companionship and I will eat that shit up) but I also think that it’s equally interesting to question why Josh’s making these calls in the first place. Where's this stuff coming from? Why does he keep acting like he knows exactly what he's thinking?

I think Joshua sees a lot of himself in Minamimoto. Here’s a kid who’s deeply dissatisfied with the world around him, someone who thinks so little of other people that he, in his arrogance, is willing to reject every different thought, opinion, and action, shunning the people around him, treating them as little more than bugs he’s willing to step on in his all-consuming quest for the power to make something better than before: the world as it ends with him. Minamimoto isn’t just pursuing Joshua, he’s following his every footstep. Joshua sees this, recognizes it (though maybe not consciously) so that when he erases him he isn’t ridding himself of a potential threat or batting away this annoying little gnat that keeps interfering with his plans, symbolically he’s destroying himself. And if anything, isn’t that an act of mercy? Wouldn’t it be better to be dead than to waste away on his throne, watching a world he no longer recognizes slowly pass him by? Isn’t that what he wanted all along?

I think Joshua's story ended perfectly with twewy. I don't think there was anything left unresolved about it, and frankly I'm glad he barely had anything to do with the plot of neo. He made his choice. Was it the wrong one? Was there ever another option? Did he ever have a chance? Who knows! He's a walking worst-case-scenario and I love seeing how detached and apathetic he's become in neo, how he never let himself connect with Neku even though he gave him the chance (which was so, so much more than Joshua could ever have asked for), how Neku doesn't even seem to trust him anymore, how he's become little more than an anecdote in his life and the lives of is friends, a passing comment, a joke, a distant, sour memory. It's fantastic. I love Hachiko gang. I love fan content where they're all friends and Josh is this cryptic little sillyguy who has fun pushing all their buttons but is deeply unequivocally loved at the end of it all, but I hope that never happens in canon. I hope he stays a tragedy.

Happy birthday you little freak <3

[nebulousfishgills]

BROTHER YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME I'M IN DISTRESS

[wundrousarts]

What is your favourite thing about nevermoor (series)?

Omg this is suuuuuch a hard question for me to answer!!! I love basically every aspect of the series, from the characters and their dynamics, to the settings, to the story...... idk if I can truly give One Singular Answer to this because I love it all! There's something truly special with the series that really makes it resonate with me and has kept me glued to it for almost 5 years and will keep me into it for many more.

IF I had to choose One Thing to answer this....... I would probably say the lore of the series and the magic and the way that the worldbuilding relates to those and fleshes out the world, giving it a history that makes Nevermoor (the city and the series) feel full of so much depth. You really get a sense that things, both big and small, happened in the past that affect the present day, and that things in the present day will have an effect on the future. It makes it fascinating to think about how the world was Pre-Massacre, and how things have changed in the last 100 years since then, and why things were the way they were and are the way they are now! I love thinking about Wundersmiths and their role in society and their rise and eventual downfall!!! Ahhhh!!!!! There's just so much I could say.

I just love everything about the worldbuilding and the lore and in-world history Jess has created. You can tell as you read that literally every aspect of the world has so much thought behind it that probably only exists inside Jess's head, but it oozes through the pages anyways and makes the world seem so full of life. I swear once she mentioned possibly releasing some sort of “rule book” / notebook companion book sort thing that explains a lot of behind the scenes lore and how the world and everything works, why stuff is the way it is, etc. after the series and I hope that happens because I can't stop thinking about it.

A silly comparison: I don't really know how to explain it to those unfamiliar with the 2000s guide books, but the worldbuilding of Nevermoor kinda reminds me of the worldbuilding of Uglydolls (no relation to the terrible 2019 movie) and I think maybe that’s partially why I love it so much lmao. Everything was so wacky and weird yet somehow it made sense. I remember reading the books and looking at the spreads of the city or the pictures of the weird vehicles and thinking about where I'd like to go and what I'd do if I lived in that universe LOL. It just felt full of life and for some reason reading Nevermoor reminds me of reading those as a kid.

Also: I've said this before (but maybe not on here?) that I credit a big part of why I'm SO into Nevermoor to the fact that I discovered it like a month or so before Adventure Time ended. I was a HUGE fan of the show (always will be!) and was really into analyzing it and theorizing about it and knew so much about it. I read Nevermoor independent of that, but I think the fact that Wundersmith releasing like a month or two after Adventure Time ended and it being the first new interest I had had in awhile just made my brain "transfer over" as I like to say. The energy I bring to overanalyzing and theorizing about Nevermoor stuff comes directly from how I was when Adventure Time was still airing.

Fun fact: My media overanalyzing led to me correctly guessing how Adventure Time would end, and I am eager to try and do the same with Nevermoor as the series continues.

[daisydisciple]

People usually seem to mean something about service/giving when they talk about "the Christmas Spirit" but I think to me the primary characteristic feature of Christmas as a holiday is the spirit of anticipation.

That's like the whole point of the concept of advent, for one thing. In a way, we are honoring and embodying the anticipation of all who lived before Christ's coming and looked ahead to their redemption, "speaking of things to come as though they had already come," who looked forward with the eye of faith and prophecy. "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined" wrote Isaiah, centuries before Christ's birth. They borrowed joy from the future, and we, in turn, borrow joy and anticipation from the past.

Whatever time of year Jesus was actually born, I do appreciate the symbolism of celebrating his coming shortly after the winter solstice—the greatest darkness has passed, and more light is yet to come. (And my southern hemisphere friends can enjoy basking in the most light the year has to offer—fitting in its own way). We superimpose the overarching narrative of mankind's redemption onto the smaller repeating seasons of our present lives, interpreting the unknown to the familiar. We celebrate the gifts of Christ in our personal, mundane little lives—service, forgiveness, charity, community, reconciliation, love. We fill the darkness with light in His honor.

And celebrating the past joy and anticipation of Christ's historical coming, along with our present holiday joy and anticipation also leads us to look forward to the future joys that will be ours because of Him. Some of my favorite Christmas carols are the ones that emphasize this: Jesus was "born that man no more may die," "to raise the sons of earth," "to give them second birth." "In His name all oppression shall cease." It isn't just that he was born—everyone that ever lived was born. We are celebrating everything that did and does and will happen because of his life and atonement and death and resurrection, including the things that haven't even happened yet. The great story of mankind's liberation from death and reconciliation with God isn't even over yet.

And so just like those of old who looked forward to Christ's coming, we today are also in a state of anticipation: that He will come again, that all of God's promises will be fulfilled, that we will live again with God in a state of glory. And so we, too, borrow joy from the future. "We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ."

As Christians, it is our right and our duty to embrace every joy—that of the past, that of the present, and that of the future. And that's what Christmas is about to me, ultimately.

[morgana-pendragon]

can i verbalise a selfish thought for a moment. dont read the tags if thatll bother you or anything

[pumpkinrootbeer]

Something that really hits like a gut punch the older I get, as someone whose been actively suicidal the majority of my life, is how fucking. Young Sam is in the original 5 seasons. If it ended as originally intended, Sam never would have made it out of his 20s and I can't accurately describe how sad that makes me

[viir-tanadhal]

thinking about neil recording demos a couple months before he met chris

[opens-up-4-nobody]

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