#i wil post in a moment!

[torgawl]

gojo's death has been way too controversial for something that has been premeditated for such a long time

[ffairyttears]

tumblr, I start my senior year tommorow im scared 😊

[n0ct0urn1quet]

@510snake

hghgrhghhhheghehghge

u ebic :]

[spectres-fulcrum]

My mom and I rewatched ANH and I had a lot of thoughts but mostly rn I'm in my feels about Chewie roaring at the mouse droid that's actually G7 and Tk-421 not being at his post and how he wasn't supposed to be because Tarkin needed him at that moment-after Alderaan, after 20 years of work came to fruition, when he just wanted the one person he could let his walls down with- but instead he wasn't at his post cause Tarkin sent G7 too late to save him so he was at his post to be called up onto the ship and killed by Chewie and when G7 did find the body wearing his armor, it's too short but the scary tall wookie scares him and triggers his self-preservation sensors before he can run diagnostics.

And it isn't until they reach Yavin he finds out his master is dead, killed by that wookie.

And how when Vader declares today will be a day long remembered-Tarkin gives him an uncertain look. He won't remember this day for the end of Kenobi, or the end of the Rebellion, he'll remember it for the death of his lover, for the one he was planning to get out of the Death Star and settle someplace comfortable. Where life was more than walls to protect themselves and messages hidden in mouse droids and finding excuses to get his trooper into his room. It's actually ingenious that that look is shaky(Youtube comments are pretty much in agreement that it's a "no one cared about Kenobi but you, my friend" look) from 1977 and now it's like oh.

Oh. Maybe he wasn't just being overconfident. I know of MSE-6 and Men has him that way but what if he truly didn't care either way-if he went down with the Death Star or lived to go through the motions of their day of triumph only to finally get some time in his rooms to mourn.

(Hello plot idea maybe)

[stuffandthings]

Noooo the new layout finally got me

[country-feedback]

R.E.M. means a lot to me.

[unamused-boss]

Post Sex Snacks

Billy Hargrove x Harrington Reader

I thought this would be cute... No smut (sorry) Short but Fluffy

Summary: You and Billy get a little hungry after your hours of fornication. In the hour of hunger you find out that your boyfriend is quite the cook.

The past few hours have been amazing. Like actually. You and Billy had been going at it for three whole hours. The time is now 5 o'clock, you have homework you need to do but your legs are to sore to move.Currently you are laying on Billy's chest taking in the warmth he is giving off. The comfort you were in was heavenly.

"You okay?" Billy asked. He's never been this comfortable when hooking up with someone. Usually he is trying to get out of there as fast as possible, but with you he felt calm. He wanted to be around all the time, if he wasn't it felt like a sickness.

"Yeah, I'm just hungry..." You sighed snuggling deeper into his chest.

"Well why didn't you say so?" Billy said as he got up an put some boxers and pants on. You looked to him in confusion. 'What is he talking about?' you thought.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"I'll cook you something." Billy said simply. You still look at him confused. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" You sassed at him playfully. "We just had sex for hours and you just casually drop on me that you can cook?"

"Yes I did." He stated confidently.

"I don't believe you." You said. Billy just laughed at your statement.

"You don't believe me?"

"Yeah, I don't."

"How about I show you?" He offered.

"Sex or cooking?" You teased.

"Cooking." He huffed out with a grin.

"Fine." You said.

You got out of your bed. Your nakedness following with you as you put some clothes on. One of those articles of clothes being Billies shirts. The both of you make your way down the stairs to your kitchen for Billy to cook.

"You one hundred percent know what you are doing?" You questioned him.

"Yes babe, have at least a little faith in your boyfriend." He laughed.

Billy got straight to work. He brought out a pan, some bread, butter, and cheese. He was making a "house staple" as he put it, a grilled cheese sandwich. Which he knew was your favorite. You sat an watched Billy work away at the food in front of him. You don't know why but you loved watching him cook. It felt so domestic, like you both are supposed to be doing this. You loved it. You loved him. It took a while to get to know him with all the walls he puts up. However, you love the carefree goofy guy that you get to call your boyfriend. You both understand each other, even if everyone else doesn't get it you both do. In your daze you did not realize that Billy placed a plate infant of you.

"Bon appetit!" Billy said. You look down at the grilled cheese in front of you.

"I looks edible." You say. You pick up the sandwich bringing it to your mouth and take a bite. . . . This is the best grilled cheese ever. Maybe because your boyfriend made it for you but still amazing. Your eyes light up.

"Billy this is amazing." You tell him.

"I tried to tell you but you refused to listen." He smirked. You just shoved his arm playfully.

"Were did you learn to cook?" You ask as you both ate.

"Uh- I watched my mom when she would make me snacks as a kid." He said simply. You didn't know that.

"I bet she made great food." You said not wanting to push any further with him, just wanting to enjoy the moment.

"Yeah, she was." He smiled at the fond memory of her. You scoot closer to Billy wrapping your arms around him bring him into a hug. Even with his high body heat already the hug was warm. You arms tighten around him as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"I love you." You state.

"I love you too." He answered. Billy wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your head. You both go back to eating after a minute not wanting the food to get cold. You both enjoyed your time together.

But everything was stopped when you both heard a car park in the drive way. You and Billy both knowing who it is. Not caring for what he will have to say cause you both will still be together. The familiar jingle of keys is heard from the front door. The door opens, a quick "I'm home!" rang through the house as Steve put up his shoes and coat. Steve made his way to the kitchen, which he thought was empty, to get a snack but instead come to see Billy Hargrove in his house. He knew you and Billy were close but he didn't know this close.

"What is that?" Steve asked.

"A grilled cheese." You answered refusing to discuss with him why Billy was here. You just continued to eat your sandwich. Steve, having decided he is no longer hungry, goes up to his room and not come back down. You and Billy just laugh at what just unfolded in front of you. Instead you go back to enjoying each others company while eating, and deciding of the fact that cuddles are a must after cleaning up.

I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for not being as active, College is kicking my butt. But it's almost summer!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How a billionaire’s mediocre pump-and-dump “book” became a “bestseller”

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/15/your-new-first-name/#that-dagger-tho

I was on a book tour the day my editor called me and told me, "From now on, your middle name is 'Cory.'"

"That's weird. Why?"

"Because from now on, your first name is 'New York Times Bestselling Author.'"

That was how I found out I'd hit the NYT list for the first time. It was a huge moment – just as it has been each subsequent time it's happened. First, because of how it warmed my little ego, but second, and more importantly, because of how it affected my book and all the books afterwards.

Once your book is a Times bestseller, every bookseller in America orders enough copies to fill a front-facing display on a new release shelf or a stack on a bestseller table. They order more copies of your backlist. Foreign rights buyers at Frankfurt crowd around your international agents to bid on your book. Movie studios come calling. It's a huge deal.

My books became Times bestsellers the old-fashioned way: people bought and read them and told their friends, who bought and read them. Booksellers who enjoyed them wrote "shelf-talkers" – short reviews – and displayed them alongside the book.

That "From now on your first name is 'New York Times Bestselling Author' gag is a tradition. When @wilwheaton's memoir Still Just A Geek hit the Times list, I texted the joke to him and he texted back to say @jscalzi had already sent him the same joke (and of course, Scalzi and I have the same editor, Patrick Nielsen Hayden):

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/still-just-a-geek-wil-wheaton

But not everyone earns that first name the same way. Some people cheat.

Famously, the Church of Scientology was caught buying truckloads of L Ron Hubbard books (published by Scientology's own publishing arm) from booksellers, returning them to their warehouse, then shipping them back to the booksellers when they re-ordered the sold out titles. The tip-off came when booksellers opened cases of books and found that they already bore the store's own price-stickers:

https://www.latimes.com/local/la-scientology062890-story.html

The reason Scientology was willing to go to such great lengths wasn't merely that readers used "NYT Bestseller* to choose which books to buy. Far more important was the signal that this sent to the entire book trade, from reviewers to librarians to booksellers, who made important decisions about how many copies of the books to stock, whether to display them spine- or face out, and whether to return unsold stock or leave it on the shelf.

Publishers go to great lengths to send these messages to the trade: sending out fancy advance review copies in elaborate packaging, taking out ads in the trade magazines, featuring titles in their catalogs and sending their sales-force out to impress the publisher's enthusiasm on their accounts.

Even the advance can be a way to signal the trade: when a publisher announces that it just acquired a book for an eyebrow-raising sum, it's not trumpeting the size of its capital reserves – it's telling the trade that this book is a Big Deal that they should pay attention to.

(Of all the signals, this one may be the weakest, even if it's the most expensive for publishers to send. Take the $1.25m advance that Rupert Murdoch's Harpercollins paid to Sarah Palin for her unreadable memoir, Going Rogue. As with so many of the outsized sums Murdoch's press and papers pay to right wing politicians, the figure didn't represent a bet on the commercial prospects of the book – which tanked – but rather, a legal way to launder massive cash transfers from the far-right billionaire to a generation of politicians who now owe him some rather expensive favors.)

All of which brings me to the New York Times bestselling book Read Write Own by the billionaire VC New York Times Bestselling Author Chris Dixon. Dixon is a partner at A16Z, the venture capitalists who pumped billions into failed, scammy, cryptocurrency companies that tricked normies into converting their perfectly cromulent "fiat" money into shitcoins, allowing the investors to turn a massive profit and exit before the companies collapsed or imploded.

Read Write Own (subtitle: "Building the Next Era of the Internet") is a monumentally unconvincing hymn to the blockchain. As Molly White writes in her scathing review, the book is full of undisclosed conflicts of interest, with Dixon touting companies he has a direct personal stake in:

https://www.citationneeded.news/review-read-write-own-by-chris-dixon/

But this book's defects go beyond this kind of sleazy pump-and-dump behavior. It's also just bad. The arguments it makes for the blockchain as a way of escaping the problems of an enshittified, monopolized internet are bad arguments. White dissects each of these arguments very skillfully, and I urge you to read her review for a full list, but I'll reproduce one here to give you a taste:

After three chapters in which Dixon provides a (rather revisionistd) history of the web to date, explains the mechanics of blockchains, and goes over the types of things one might theoretically be able to do with a blockchain, we are left with "Part Four: Here and Now", then the final "Part Five: What's Next". The name of Part Four suggests that he will perhaps lay out a list of blockchain projects that are currently successfully solving real problems.

This may be why Part Four is precisely four and a half pages long. And rather than name any successful projects, Dixon instead spends his few pages excoriating the "casino" projects that he says have given crypto a bad rap,e prompting regulatory scrutiny that is making "ethical entrepreneurs … afraid to build products" in the United States.f

As White says, this is just not a good book. It doesn't contain anything to excite people who are already blockchain-poisoned crypto cultists – and it also lacks anything that will convince normies who never let Matt Damon or Spike Lee convince them to trade dollars for magic beans. It's one of those books that manages to be both paper and a paperweight.

And yet…it's a New York Times Bestseller. How did this come to pass? Here's a hint: remember how the Scientologists got L Ron Hubbard 20 consecutive #1 Bestsellers?

As Jordan Pearson writes for Motherboard, Read Write Own earned its place on the Times list because of a series of massive bulk orders from firms linked to A16Z and Dixon, which ordered between dozens and thousands of copies and gave them away to employees or just randos on Twitter:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/n7emkx/chris-dixon-a16z-read-write-own-nyt-bestseller

The Times recognizes this in a backhanded way, by marking Read Write Own on the list with a "dagger" (†) that indicates the shenanigans (the same dagger appeared alongside the listing for Donald Trump Jr's Triggered after the RNC spent a metric scientologyload of money – $100k – buying up cases of it):

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/11/21/books/donald-trump-jr-triggered-sales.html

There's a case for the Times not automatically ignoring bulk orders. Since 2020, I've run Kickstarters where I've pre-sold my books on behalf of my publisher, working with bookstores like Book Soup and wholesalers like Porchlight Books to backers when they go on sale. I signed and personalized 500+ books at Vroman's yesterday for backers who pre-ordered my next novel, The Bezzle:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53531243480/

But there's a world of difference between pre-orders that hundreds or thousands of readers place that are aggregated into a single bulk order, and books that are bought by CEOs to give away to people who may not have any interest in them. For the book trade – librarians, reviewers, booksellers – the former indicates broad interest that justifies their attention. The latter just tells you that a handful of deep-pocketed manipulators want you to think there's broad interest.

I'm certain that Dixon – like me – feels a bit of pride at having "earned" a new first name. But Dixon – like me – gets something far more tangible than a bit of egoboo out of making the Times list. For me, a place on the Times list is a way to get booksellers and librarians excited about sharing my book with readers.

For Dixon, the stakes are much higher. Remember that cryptocurrency is a faith-based initiative whose mechanism is: "convince normies that shitcoins will be worth more tomorrow than they are today, and then trade them the shitcoins that cost you nothing to create for dollars that they worked hard to earn."

In other words, crypto is a bezzle, defined by John Kenneth Galbraith as "The magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it."

So long as shitcoins haven't fallen to zero, the bag-holders who've traded their "fiat" for funny money can live in the bezzle, convinced that their "investments" will recover and turn a profit. More importantly, keeping the bezzle alive preserves the possibility of luring in more normies who can infuse the system with fresh dollars to use as convincers that keep the bag-holders to keep holding that bag, rather than bailing and precipitating the zeroing out of the whole scam.

The relatively small sums that Dixon and his affiliated plutocrats spent to flood your podcasts with ads for this pointless 300-page Ponzi ad are a bargain, as are the sums they spent buying up cases of the book to give away or just stash in a storeroom. If only a few hundred retirees are convinced to convert their savings to crypto, the resulting flush of cash will make the line go up, allowing whales like Dixon and A16Z to cash out, or make more leveraged bets, or both. Crypto is a system with very few good trades, but spending chump change to earn a spot on the Times list (dagger or no) is a no-brainer.

After all, the kinds of people who buy crypto are, famously, the kinds of people who think books are stupid ("I would never read a book" -S Bankman-Fried):

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/11/29/sam-bankman-fried-reading-effective-altruism/

There's precious little likelihood that anyone will be convinced to go long on crypto thanks to the words in this book. But the Times list has enough prestige to lure more suckers into the casino: "I'm not going to read this thing, but if it's on the list, that means other people must have read it and think it's convincing."

We are living through a golden age of scams, and crypto, which has elevated caveat emptor to a moral virtue ("not your wallet, not your coins"), is a scammer's paradise. Stein's Law tells us that "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop," but the purpose of a bezzle isn't to keep the scam going forever – just until the scammer can cash out and blow town. The longer the bezzle goes on for, the richer the scammer gets.

Not for nothing, my next novel – which comes out on Feb 20 – is called The Bezzle. It stars Marty Hench, my hard-driving, two-fisted, high-tech forensic accountant, who finds himself unwinding a whole menagerie of scams, from a hamburger-based Ponzi scheme to rampant music royalty theft to a vast prison-tech scam that uses prisoners as the ultimate captive audience:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Patrick Nielsen Hayden – the same editor who gave me my new first name – once told me that "publishing is the act of connecting a text with an audience." Everything a publisher does – editing, printing, warehousing, distributing – can be separated from publishing. The thing a publisher does that makes them a publisher – not a printer or a warehouser or an editing shop – is connecting books and audiences.

Seen in this light, publishing is a subset of the hard problem of advertising, religion, politics and every other endeavor that consists in part of convincing people to try out a new idea:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/04/self-publishing/

This may be the golden age of scams, but it's the dark age of publishing. Consolidation in distribution has gutted the power of the sales force to convince booksellers to stock books that the publisher believes in. Consolidation in publishing – especially Amazon, which is both a publisher and the largest retailer in the country – has stacked the deck against books looking for readers and vice-versa (Goodreads, a service founded for that purpose, is now just another tentacle on the Amazon shoggoth). The rapid enshittification of social media has clobbered the one semi-reliable channel publicists and authors had to reach readers directly.

I wrote nine books during lockdown (I write as displacement activity for anxiety) which has given me a chance to see publishing in the way that few authors can: through a sequence of rapid engagements with the system as a whole, as I publish between one and three books per year for multiple, consecutive years. From that vantagepoint, I can tell you that it's grim and getting grimmer. The slots that books that connected with readers once occupied are now increasingly occupied by the equivalent of the botshit that fills the first eight screens of your Google search results: book-shaped objects that have gamed their way to the top of the list.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

I don't know what to do about this, but I have one piece of advice: if you read a book you love, tell other people about it. Tell them face-to-face. In your groupchat. On social media. Even on Goodreads. Every book is a lottery ticket, but the bezzlers are buying their tickets by the case: every time you tell someone about a book you loved (and even better, why you loved it), you buy a writer another ticket.

Meanwhile, I've got to go get ready for my book tour. I'm coming to LA, San Francisco, Seattle, Vancouver, Calgary, Phoenix, Portland, Providence, Boston, New York City, Toronto, San Diego, Salt Lake City, Tucson, Chicago, Buffalo, as well as Torino and Tartu (details soon!).

If you want to get a taste of The Bezzle, here's an excerpt:

https://www.torforgeblog.com/2023/11/20/excerpt-reveal-the-bezzle-by-cory-doctorow/

And here's the audiobook, read by New York Times Bestselling Author Wil Wheaton:

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_459/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_459_-_The_Bezzle_Read_By_Wil_Wheaton.mp3

[ravendarkwood]

Some of my favorite things about Chayanne!

He likes swimming! The reason Phil has that bath outside of his house is because that was a little swimming area for Chayanne when Philza and Missa first build his house. Swimming was one of the first things he did when they got him up the wall (it was very cute). I also very distinctly remember a moment where Phil and Chayanne visited Bad's house, and Chayanne took off his armor and swam for a bit in this two by two infinite water source that Bad had inside his house while Phil and Bad talked. He wants to be a water dragon when he hatches into a dragon.

He likes being up high! Or, if there's a random block up a bit higher than other blocks Chayanne will get up onto it. A very popular choice is that orange wool that is outside of his house. If I remember correctly Missa gave it to him for a bed (this was the first day and they didn't know how the eggs operated so they didn't know that he had like a bed bed. They also fed him seeds for a while because they didn't know he needed actual food).

Chayanne used to throw himself off of the wall a lot, which is why the fence and walls were put up. I think he enjoys making his fathers worry and likes exciting things. I saw a twitter post point out that Chayanne used to be a lot more disobedient until one day that led to Ramon's first death, and that's been living rent free in my head.

Chayanne can be suspicious of strangers! The first time that Wilbur showed up at Chayanne's house he attacked him before Phil reassured Chayanne that Wil was a friend. Another time this is illustrated is that one of the first times Chayanne met Richarlyson he asked him a bunch of questions trying to figure out here he came from.

Going off that last bit, Chayanne is actually interested in knowing about the mysteries going on in the island when it pertains to the safety of others. He questioned Richarlyson when he first showed up, asking where he came from and if he was a danger to others, and the day that Phil had to defend Chayanne , Richarlyson, and Leo from the code Phil actually wanted to leave early, but Chayanne wanted to stay because he was eavesdropping on the other adults because they were talking about the eggs.

Chayanne is very quiet! He's said a few times that he struggles with words and expressing himself, and he uses body language to communicate a lot. One of my favorite moments is when he threw Phil is sword, and then started shift dancing on top of the anvil because it was low on durability and he wanted Phil to repair it. Phil was talking to Wil at the same time, and didn't know what Chayanne meant until he clarified it.

Speaking of shift dancing, Chayanne does it a lot. One of my favorite dance moves is when he jumps in the air, spins in a circle, all while shifting. It just makes Chayanne look very excitable and I think it's cute.

If I remember correctly Chayanne's first pet was the white cat that's in the boat outside of Phil's house. It's name is Avocado. Chayanne seems to really enjoy small animals in general, having cats, raccoons, parrots, and axolotls as pets. Phil actually took Chayanne and Tallulah into a cave, and Chayanne took a dive off of the cliff to get one of the axolotls, which lead to a bunch of mobs attacking him. I think that one was one of the two that lived in the pond in front of the house, but I think they accidentally got wiped when other mobs got deleted.

Going off of the last point, when Chayanne sees a raccoon in the wild, he'll pause, crouch down in front of it, stare at it for a few seconds, before going back to running again.

Despite what Phil says, Chayanne actually does enjoy decorating and things looking good. He and Tallulah decorated the basement together, and he argued a bit with BBH when he told Chayanne to use the block enforcer in his safe room because it would make the blocks ugly. He was wanting to decorate his safe room for a while before they got to it.

Chayanne also has some Autumnal vibes to him. When he decorates he uses a lot of oranges and yellows and dark woods and red leaves, and uses jack-o-lanterns a lot for lighting. Since he's gotten it he's also been favoring his jack-o-lantern staff when not in fights, a few times conjuring a Mr. Pumpkin to hang around him. He also has a lot of death vibes, but so does his entire family so.

Chayanne wears a skull helmet a lot when he doesn't need to wear full armor. Missa made him a whole set so they could match, and Chayanne likes wearing it. Recently he's also been wearing a king's crown a lot more, and mixed with Bonnie's "he smells like an old king" thing, this is most likely a reference to Technoblade.

After coming back with cracks Chayanne was very disappointed with himself and that his siblings and him got hurt, and even said that he wanted to be strong like Technoblade. Phil managed to cheer him up by giving him a pep talk about getting back up when pushed down and if Chayanne was Phil's little hero.

Chayanne tends to write and all lowercase, including referring to himself and other's names, but that's not an always thing.

Chayanne and Tallulah are pretty much a team at this point. They'll very often say things like "I've got your back" and things like that to each other when they need reassurance. I bet a lot of people who don't watch Phil have seen Chayanne's "u and me, u and me always" sign to Tallulah when she was extremely distressed about being dirty.

Chayanne tends not to hit people. This is true of Tallulah and Phil too, with Phil only hitting Chayanne or Tallulah by accident or like when it's meant to be a high five or something, and Tallulah gets into slap fights with Chayanne sometimes when they disagree with each other or hits Phil when he says a joke she doesn't like, but Chayanne doesn't usually hit people? When he wants someone to read his sign he stands next to it and does a shift dance or jumps until they notice.

My favorite scene with Chayanne and Phil:

Chayanne: "I mean, gosh I'm bad with words! I don't want to die, I won't die soon, I take everything you [Philza] showed us seriously. Thank you so much of [for?] that. When the giant squid grabbed me I was shaking bc [because] I thought that was the end of it. So yeah, it's not a good feeling."

[A few minutes where they talk about pictures, and Chayanne seems to collect his thoughts?]

"There's something else I want to say. Last time with Forever, I spent so much time out of home. It was nice but felt weird. I'm always saying I want to go to dungeons, but my life so far has been pretty chill. And you know what, I love it it's perfect. I wouldn't change it."

Philza: "Aw, I'm glad Chayanne, I'm glad. I was getting a bit worried I'll be honest when I came back from TwitchCon or wherever and I heard that you had been going through dungeons and stuff and you had so much fun I was like 'aw man. Am I a bad dad?'."

Chayanne: "I once said this to Dad Missa. I don't envy anyone, or anything. I love our current family."

This turned out way longer than I meant it to be. I dunno, what are some of your favorite things about your favorite eggs that people might not know?

[the-orion-scribe]

An essay on Ford and Mabel

To commemorate my 1000th post, I decided to embark on an essay on the limited Ford and Mabel bonding in the show!

Among some of the shortcomings in the show (including Wendy being chaffed as a main character), there aren’t as many moments for Ford and Mabel to bond over, compared to Ford with Dipper. Well, it’s also due to the short runway we have from A Tale of Two Stans to Weirdmageddon, but for rather odd reasons, Ford didn’t get a lot of screentime and often holed up in his own lab. Even Roadside Attraction did not even drop any mention of Ford. As a mutual lamented to me, it’s likely the case of Ford, like Wendy, being another character whom the writers had a purpose for (as the answer to the mystery of Stan and the Portal), but didn’t know how to write outside that purpose.

Of course, some argued that, for plot reasons, this is so that Mabel gets duped by Bill since she didn’t know about the Rift from Ford. Or that Ford just overlooked her when he offered Dipper the apprenticeship. As such, there is a main misconception that Ford didn’t care about Mabel at all compared to Dipper. Or, in some ridiculously extreme cases, that he hates her. While I guess this was extrapolated from what we might have gleaned in the show, I don’t agree with such extreme views.

People forget that Mabel was actually the first twin he interacted with, and it was largely positive. When Mabel stated that his six-fingered handshake was one finger friendlier than normal, Ford laughed and said he liked her. Given how much he was shunned by many others for his extra fingers, it probably warmed him to hear someone saying something positive about his anomaly. It seemed initially set up that Ford and Mabel should get along fabulously. Even Mabel went as far as to knit finger puppets for Ford and while he sounded rather hesitant in Journal 3, we later glimpsed a scene in which both bonded over something similar (a hand turkey).

Which brings me next on Ford’s journal entry about Mabel. (I also noted he interviewed, or wrote about, Mabel before Dipper). His interview with Mabel sounded largely positive given he remarked how he was “instantly charmed” by her “enthusiastic” personality. Ford also considered her as an “odd specimen” (almost certainly a compliment), and also hoped to seek her help to repair his own coat.

I suppose this interview probably shaped some initial impressions for Ford about Mabel. “Overall positive but somewhat ambivalent/not-really-comprehending how she ticks necessarily” is much of how I would define Ford’s attitude toward Mabel - he likes her, but doesn’t especially identify with her because the traits he admires in her are almost inversions of some his own.

At this stage, one could also take that with his remark in Dipper’s initial assessment about how he “possibly takes after Stanley” as Ford initially trying to identify with Mabel the way he ended up identifying with Dipper, such as him enthusiastically commenting about her sweet tooth and hair curls being a Pines trait. Of course, as it turned out in the show and in Journal 3, his perceptions of the twins shifted and he found himself relating more to Dipper especially when he looked back on Dipper’s entries and additions, and the events of Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons.

I have to admit that when I first read this part, I thought he remarks he himself needed further psychological testing and not Mabel. For some light-heartedness, I rather think of it that way, but there’s something deeper in this for the two’s psychological profiles. First off, the tests were flawed, given Rorschach testing blots should be less definitive, but it probably reflected Ford’s possible lack of comfort with ambiguity, and the preoccupation he had with death and destruction for so long. As for Mabel, it shows a certain degree of wilful misinterpretation, trying to see things through a particular positive lens and has a sort of fear of unpleasantness that manifests in a possibly neurotic drive to control reality around her, which finds its ultimate expression in Mabeland.

This is rather important as something I would delve into deeper later on in this essay, which gave Ford an impression that Mabel’s psychology, while odd, was overall positive and not much to be concerned about. He clearly recognized Mabel’s social ability as a valuable skill, and may see her lack of cynicism as something of an asset too, as we later see in The Last Mabelcorn. I suppose Ford neglected to do a deeper dive into her psychology given the fallout we would see in Dipper and Mabel Vs the Future. He might claim to have 12 PHDs, but I doubted one of them is in psychology.

We move on to the Last Mabelcorn, which is where we see Ford interacted more with Mabel and offer a bigger insight into how he feels about her. First, he agreed with Mabel when she stated she was probably “the most pure of heart in the room” and entrusted her with the unicorn mission, even knowing that the unicorns were difficult (and frustrating). As such, he equipped her with Journal 1 and a crossbow for the mission. Obviously this was for her safety, as well as trying to give her as much help as he could regarding unicorns, even though he himself had little success (Ford mentioned of an arm-wrestle with a unicorn in the blacklight edition which I doubted went well). At the end of that episode, he directly told her that she is a good person, even without being aware of the struggles she had gone through with her morality moments prior. And after the episode he even regarded her as an expert on unicorns given she managed to defeat one, and allowed her to write an entry in Journal 3 about unicorns. I needed to note that Mabel was the only person who wrote in Ford’s Journal after Dipper returned Ford the Journals (and before their recovery in Weirdmageddon). This rather showed how much Ford really trusted Mabel, especially when he regarded his Journal as his “important scientific documents”.

Dipper and Mabel vs The Future is more contentious in this regard. We see how plenty of fans often using this episode as proof that Ford doesn’t care about Mabel just because he only asked Dipper to stay in Gravity Falls, and waved off concerns that Mabel would be all alone in California. However, we need to relook some bits of this in context.

Dipper: There’s also Mabel. She’d be all alone in California. Ford: Mabel will be fine on her own. She has a magnetic personality. I watched her become pen pals with the pizza delivery man in the 60 seconds he was at the door.

From this, we can see how Ford cared enough to observe Mabel’s social skills with the pizza delivery guy, plus probably witnessed plenty of instances of Mabel handling herself without Dipper’s help. I guessed that was further underlined by her success in the unicorn adventure, and thus he genuinely believed that Mabel could take being without her brother outside of the summers.

Dipper: Gosh, we’ve never really been apart before. Ford: And isn’t it suffocating? Dipper, can you honestly tell me you never felt like you were meant for something more?

This is another contentious bit, I admit. It sounded like Ford considered Mabel as a stumbling block in Dipper’s future. Well, I concede Ford isn’t perfect. Again, this is one of those times Ford was projecting his issues with Stan onto the younger twins after finding out how similar he thinks Dipper is to him (possibly aggravated probably by Stan blatantly aligning Mabel with himself, ex, telling Dipper that he belongs upstairs with “me and Mabel”). At this point, he was just extremely clueless about the nature of her and Dipper’s relationship, and how it was much healthier than his was with Stan, probably even at that age.

Nevertheless, to say that he didn’t care about Mabel at all is simply a misguided oversimplification. He cared about them both so much. His traumatic experience with his own twin just tainted how he saw the twins’ bond being something that could be potentially suffocating. He did sort of have a point though; Dipper and Mabel couldn’t force each other to stay glued at the hip forever or it could potentially stifle their individual dreams if handled badly. But the twins were only 12 and had a lot of growing up to do together. It wasn’t a great idea to separate the twins at this point, which was something Ford forgot.

Mabel wasn’t forthright about her feelings about leaving Gravity Falls and growing up until she blew up at the end of the episode. We see how she maintained that mask of optimism throughout the show, even when she was worried about the Grunkles’ falling out and the parallels she found between her and her brother back in A Tale of Two Stans. That mask began to slip when she realized growing up wasn’t as great as she thought, and Ford didn’t know how badly Mabel would take it.

Ford thought he was doing Dipper a favor by giving him a head start on his studies. This is probably a bit too charitable of an interpretation, but one could, I suppose, see Ford's “something more” remark as “Dipper more than just half of a set” instead of “implying that Mabel is in some sense inferior than her brother.” As said earlier, he even believed Mabel would be fine and thrive on her own, too. That the two could have reached a compromise if needed.

We can probably conclude that Ford actually did not disregard Mabel or see her as the "inferior twin", but he just found trouble trying to connect with her despite his initial positive impressions. At the same time, due to Mabel's outward outgoing personality, he overestimated Mabel's confidence in being on her own, and also (subconsciously) projected his own issues with Stan on the younger twins. Not to say Ford was a bad person by any means, but he was misguided in some of his assumptions and impressions.

On a tangent, I say the recent fan episode Return to the Bunker tried its best to imagine how Ford and Mabel might go on an adventure together. However, it instead exaggerated too much of his flaws (e.g. his trust issues) and it became more of a Ford bashing episode. Yes, we know Ford isn't perfect by any means, and he might be unfamiliar with interacting with others like Mabel.

Yet, as we also saw from the canon (the show supplemented by Journal 3), he could get along well with Mabel, especially in such a desperate situation like confronting a Shapeshifter (how he dismissed the others' suggestions is really beyond me). We even saw how Ford was willing to give up himself to Bill in WMG when Bill threatened to torture or even kill the kids.

I supposed the writers of that fan episode did read J3 but took the wrong lessons. While definitely an attempt to show Ford's flaws, the episode instead went the other extreme. Ford could sometimes be insensitive (like the remark he made about "suffocating"), but not anti-social or downright unpleasant.

There is definitely potential for more positive Ford and Mabel bonding moments that could further underscore that Mabel could cope well on her own (from what we saw in The Last Mabelcorn). From what @hkthatgffan also told me (and on Reddit), when Lost Legends was coming up, everyone thought, from Hirsch's hint through his emojis, that we might finally get a Ford and Mabel bonding story but instead we got an (admittedly) half-hearted attempt to redeem Mabel from her role in WMG.

I supposed another angle could be Ford and Mabel also coming to terms with their roles, given Ford is partly responsible (and even took some blame himself), and both can overcome the trauma together. I don't doubt these are already concepts being explored in various fanfics and fanarts. And here are some other ideas from Reddit.

Let me end off with some parallel scenes between Ford and Mabel, which show how similar both are. We need to also remember that it's not exactly Dipper-Ford and Mabel-Stan, but rather Dipper and Mabel paralleling each of the Stans in different ways. That is probably another essay for another time.

This essay is written with assistance from @jacky-rubou (who already provided an initial essay for me to work from) and @callipraxia who is able to offer more insights.

[mysticalsoot]

tomorrow you can fly

A/N; thanks to @poraphia 's post earlier tonight w photos of will in eyeshadow- we now have this fic I wrote in an hour- soooo- go check out their blog and maybe like take a read here- FYI this is so incredibly self indulgent, reader is just me. this is what its like with my dr s/o. he calls me bunny, I love it. let me be happy.

summary; reader does wil's makeup and helps him get ready for a show!! a bit of anxiety ensues but nothing a bit of soft wilbur can't help!!

tw// anxiety, seperation anxiety, wil is shirtless briefly, barely suggestive but slightly, will gets his makeup done?? very autistic coded reader and kinda will too!! reader is called bunny and bug, very cutesty petnames, fukin sue me

words; 3k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; none!

masterlist

—★—

"wilbee?" you call softly for your boyfriend, humming and swaying around the flat as you try to find where he's getting ready for his gig-- or rather where he's hiding.

"mm, yes baby?" he calls after you, and you peak into your bedroom, hurrying to stand behind him and wrap yourself around his body as he looks through his side of the closet. you place a kiss on his back, your fingers running over his stomach.

"whatcha doin, lovey?" you hum, resting your cheek against his back as he stops, looks down and chuckles. he turns in your grasp, smiling down at you and holding your face in his hands. you note how small your face feels compared to his grasp, it's nice.

"im trying to get ready, bunny."

a soft smile on his lips as he leans down, practically bent over to place a kiss on your lips before another lingering kiss is placed on your forehead. you grasp at his sides, hands grabbing hold of the fabric of his shirt as you stand tall on your toes to reach him better.

"can I help?" you tilt your head to the side, knowing the answer is yes.

"of course, lovebug," he smiles and turns back to pick out a few tops, you grab onto his free hand, wrapping yours around his finger as he walks over to the bed and places the shirts down, "which one, hun?" he looks over at you as you inspect each one, thinking deeply and searching your brain for each memory of him wearing the choices laid in front of you.

the one on the left is his favorite doomed sweater, everyone knows it. but it's August, and much too hot for a sweater, let alone when he'll be all sweaty. you hand it to him and shake your head.

"aww, but it's my favorite?" he whines playfully, a gentle smirk on his lips as he tosses it aside in the reading nook you both put together. he'll deal with it later.

"I'd rather you not get heatstroke," you hum as you glance between the two other options. one is a white button up, the other being a tighter fitting white tshirt. you point to the Tshirt and nod up at him, "that one, can I get you a jacket, baby?"

he nods, smiling as he takes the options you dismissed and puts them away. you follow him to the closet, almost like a lost puppy, which isn't uncommon for either of you. you're attached at the hip, even at home.

you look through his jackets for a moment or two, while he's deciding on jeans and shoes. he'll get you to pick socks out for him, you like to mismatch them and make sure they're nice and colorful for him. you glance between a green jacket and a black one, both of which are decently light and shouldn't make him sweat much more than he would on his own. you him as you try to grab the green one, pulling it off the hanger and bringing it to him, where he stands in front of the dresser.

"this one," you hum and put it on top of the dresser, the shirt and jeans picked out.

"socks, darling?"

you nod and quickly pick a pair of Minecraft socks.

"love--"

"stick to your roots, wilb."

you smile and look up at him as he shakes his head and kisses your cheek, holding you against him for a few moments before he breathes in and sighs.

"can I do your makeup?" you look up at him, chin rested on his chest as his hands find your hips and rub the bone with his thumbs.

"how do you plan on doing it?" he leans down, a few soft kisses being placed and drug along your neck. gentle, loving motions not meant for anything but to say 'i love you, I'll miss you'.

"eyeshadow, your waterline eyeliner aaaaannd maybe some highlight?" the list is light and would look decently natural, besides the eye makeup, but getting to make him all pretty before a show sounds beautiful. getting to sit on his lap and practically draw on his face with powders and eye pencils, his hands on your hips--it sounds like heaven to you.

"I think we can agree on that," a kiss to your cheek and a quick little peck to the lips and he's across the room and in the bathroom. the water starts and you take that as a cue to move, going over to your vanity and setting out what you'll need.

you decide to take out some of your lipstick too, just a small idea you feel like springing on him. you sit there for a few moments before you quickly jump into bed and look out the window for a bit. just watching the tide go in and out, he's a quick shower guy so doing anything that could take more than five minutes, wasn't the best deal. so looking out the window, from a distance might I add, was a good deal. you don't like being too close to the large windows by yourself, you prefer when wil is there behind you. then, if you fall through the big glass windows, he'll fall with you. morbid, but sweet in a way. or that's what your sister Grace, says. either way, you don't mind.

it isn't long until Wil is out of the shower and bathroom, a towel wrapped around his torso and another towel drying his hair.

you look at him for a moment, trying not to gawk as you notice his stomach, the small bit of fat he has there. soft and squeezable and wonderful for laying on, the v-line just below that makes you blush. then your eyes dance to his waist, where it comes in a curve, a small dip that drives you crazy. you glance away when you see him smirking and he shakes his head at your silence and rosy cheeks.

you look back at him a moment later after a loving little scoff leaves his lips and your eyes widen when you see him about to shake his hair out.

"wil! no! you're not a dog, babe!" you squeal out as he shakes his hair out, right in front of you as water droplets shake off everywhere. you're squealing and giggling until he stops and he laughs, lunging over you and attacking your face in sweet kisses, his damp curls tickling your face.

"how's that, hm? better now? you've forgiven me?" he smirks as he pulls back, finger running down your jaw and resting under your chin. he pulls you in for a quick kiss and you pout up at him.

"I've told you no dog shakes. it's mean."

he simply chuckles and shakes his head, letting the towel drop and quickly changing into his clothes. his hair dries quickly, so he doesn't bother with the hair drier. plus, he knows you hate the noise, and with how quiet you've been today, he doesn't want to agitate your nerves any further.

after he's dressed, he sits down in the chair at the vanity before patting his leg, "c'mere, baby," he smiles and you oblige quickly, easily slipping into his lap facing him.

you hold his face in your hands for a few moments before a kiss to his forehead, and then you twist back to grab the concealer you keep for him, he's much too pale for anyone else's.

this isn't your first time either.

you smile as you scoot forwards, his hands landing onto your hips, holding tightly and covering more space on you than you thought was possible. you dab a few dots of concealer in a few places where he gets more blemishes, and then a couple quick swipes under his eyes. you recap the concealer and put it back on the vanity, grabbing the sponge and dabbing it around. he shuts his eyes and sighs softly, fully content in the domesticity of the moment. you've both been awfully quiet today, he's been so pent up and stressed about the night's gig that he hasn't had much to say, and you on the other hand, aren't always the most talkative. at least on your bad or mediocre days. on good days you'd be smiling and talking wil's ear off, which he loved. it reminded him you trusted him, and felt safe to freely speak your mind.

today was a more anxious day for you, so silence was resorted to most often. nothing happened in particular, you just sort of woke up uneasy, sick to your stomach and messages you had gotten from some of wil's acquaintances didn't make you feel better. as always, he'd hum and kiss your nose, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs and muttering 'youre worthy, you're smart, you're beautiful. no one else's words dictate your self worth, mkay?' it's sweet, how much he loves you. how desperately he loves you and how far he is willing to go for that to be known. you've never felt so loved and appreciated as you have when you're in his lap, or his arms or simply in the same room as him.

when wilbur is there you are safe, loved and appreciated and those are things you haven't always felt, and for that, you're thankful to him.

after the concealer is blended, you move onto the eyeshadow, tapping the brush out after you dipped it in one of the green tones. you apply it to his eyelids as he tries not to giggle at the way it tickles, his lip being between his teeth to help keep it contained. his fingers tighten on your hip bones for a few minutes as you finish up with the other eyelid. then you add a bit of shimmer shadow to it, for some sparkle. you're quick with the eyeliner, dragging the pencil gently on his waterline, knowing it's his least favorite part.

as you add the highlight to his inner corners, nose and various other spots on his face, you hum with a smile, "I have an idea, could I tell you about it?"

he hums as a yes, smiling as he looks down at you, just slightly.

"what if I put some red lipstick on me and then kissed all over your face and neck and a bit on this white tshirt here?" your words are spoken slower than most times, partly because of the exhaustion of being anxious for a whole day and partly because it insinuates a bit of mischief to your words.

"yes, please, my love," he smirks, loving the idea of going on stage with kiss marks all over his face and neck. what a way to show who's he is, hm?

"wonderful," you're quick with finishing up the base, before you apply the lipstick marks. his cheeks and jaw are heavier in the kisses, and then some more are placed on his neck. you have to reapply the lipstick a few times and after youre done you pull back to look at your work, smiling in satisfaction at your job. Wil looks in the mirror, smirking before kissing your chin.

"it looks beautiful, baby. you did such a good job," he coos softly, a kiss to your cheek as you step off his lap and he stands. you press your hand to his chest as you shake your head.

"almost forgot, lip balm."

he nods and quickly dabs some on his lips, shaking his head and chuckling at how thorough you are.

you help pack his bags and carry them down to the van, and after his guitars and other things are up, he steps aside with you, holding your face and leaning down to meet your eyes.

"promise me you'll be okay? you won't be bored at all?" his eyebrows are all knitted together and you giggle at how worried he seems. you'll be fine after all.

"I'm gonna be fine, I promise. you need to have fun at your show, wilb," your smile is sweet and genuine, and you giggle at every kiss his lips leave on your face. his thumbs rubbing at your cheeks when he pulls back makes you smile even wider.

you didn't want to go to the show, but you didn't tell him that. you simply said you were much too tired and thought staying back and resting was a better option. in reality, his fans scared you a bit. and sometimes you felt judged. it was best to stay at home with your current state of mind anyways.

a few goodbye kisses and a long hug where he picks you up and spins you and then he's off and you're going up the stairs back to your flat.

you're putting away the makeup from earlier, and then head out to the kitchen to put together some leftovers for yourself, bouncing and swaying on your feet, a stim you enjoy most when you're alone. or with wil, but sometimes being with him is like being alone, in an oddly cathartic way. he makes you feel safe, like you can truly be yourself, in the same way you can when there's not a single prying eye. because his brown ones never pry.

you spend your time busying yourself, crocheting different projects you've had going, playing stardew and putting some of wils vods on the TV to help with background noise, and your separation anxiety.

sometime between then and now, you fell asleep on the couch, curled up in pillows and blankets, all nestled in and comfy.

long hours are spent asleep, until the very late hours of night, 2 or 3am and the door is creaking open, shutting and locking. you smile to yourself in your half sleepy daze. you try to pretend to be asleep, knowing that wil would cuddle you if you were awake or asleep, but hoping he'd carry you to bed with him too, if it was the latter.

"love?" he calls softly, dropping his things by the door and shoving his shoes off before hurrying over to you, kneeling down by the side of the couch and pushing hair out of your face. you look up at him through your lashes and he smiles, you broke.

"hi, bee," you hum, reaching out to him and hugging him close, "how was the show?" you speak against his neck, breath fanning over the skin and lifting goosebumps across it.

"very good, the crowd was wonderful. really wish you were there, they would've loved you," he sighs, nestling his face into your neck as he slowly crawls onto the couch with you, laying half on you and half off.

"you have good fans, I don't doubt it," you avoid the other comments, and Wil notes this for later as he rubs your hair and hums to you. you lift your head to look at his face, noticing how his makeup is gone and you frown. he notices and speaks up;

"took it off at the venue, means I can cuddle you immediately," he smiles and you giggle, nodding happily as you stuff your face into his chest and let him embrace you, "ready for bed, bug?"

you nod and he holds you close, before sitting you up. he stands and picks you up by your waist, wrapping you around him and carrying you off to bed. he lays you down, tucking in beside you and kissing your temple.

"were you feeling okay while I was gone?" he asks with a quick chirp. he nibbles at your ear, before a kiss is placed under it.

"yeah, i just crafted and napped," you tuck your head under his chin, hands grasping at his shirt and his covering the top of yours, "you've got big hands," the words are blurted out immediately, without thought. it makes you reel into yourself, hiding your face as it burns red when you realize what you've spoken aloud.

"yeah? well, all the better to hold you with, mm?" he chuckles, shaking his head with a smile and looking out the window for a few seconds. he notices your stillness and reaches down to pull your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, "your comment didn't make me uncomfortable, I liked it. do you need to breathe with me?"

you shrug and he takes that as a yes.

he holds up his hand, outstretched, and takes a deep breath, putting a finger down for each second he breathes in. you follow his lead. he then does the same for holding, 4 in, 4 hold, 4 out. he does this with you a few more times before he notices your body more relaxed and less tense than before. he wraps his arms tighter around you, pulling you closer into his chest as he cradles the back of your head with his hand. his fingers scratch and massage at your scalp as you sigh in contentment.

"i didnt mean to say it," you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"doesn't mean you didnt mean it,"

"i meant it," your response is quick and he smirks at how fast you respond, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back to look at your face.

he leans down, face in his hands as he kisses you ever so softly on the lips, love and care seeping into the touch and when you pull away, a slight tingle is left on the skin he touched. it's nice, like an echo of his love gets left behind with every graze of his fingers or lips or simply his touch. its addicting.

"sleep?" you whisper softly, a yawn seeping through your words.

he nods, and you curl up in his chest as you both shuffle and adjust in the bedsheets.

"goodnight, bunny," he smiles, eyes shut as he kisses your forehead.

"goodnight, bee," and with your words and his touch, slips away any worry that weighed on your chest, and now you feel light. maybe tomorrow you can fly, you hope its with him.

taglist; @ella-fella-bo-bella @lillylvjy @sleepyburs @lotusanonymouse @lcvejoy

as a gift, here are the photos<3

[lxmelle]

Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

[anon1nn1t]

please give me everything u can fit in a post about Mr snapchat NSFW and SFW I am DESPERATE it is so hard to find genuine hcs about him he's so over looked >;((

also just found ur account and am in love with everything u have written so far mate can't wait to see more from you, take care of yourself today!!

Stop this is so kind. 🥹🫶 And you’re so right about Sapnap being over looked !! But don’t worry, I’ve got your back. :) Just like my George hcs, I wil add more to this over time. * Also, to the person who sent the ask about Dream, I’m working on it !! *

Feel free to request !

SFW:

He’s actually such a sleepyhead.

He’s always hunting you down to ask you to cuddle with him so he can take a nap, falling asleep against your shoulder/knee whenever you’re busy.

Sure, he can sleep without you, but if he has the choice, he will always choose to sleep with you in his presence, since it helps him sleep better.

Secretly has so many pictures of you sleeping.

He’s sooo clingy

Constantly kissing you, hugging you, touching you in every way he possibly can.

But as clingy as he is, he knows when he needs to give you some space.

He has some major jealousy issues.

If any man other than him simply looks at you, he will give him a death stare, squeezing your thigh, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

It’s not that he doesn't trust you; of course he does; he’s just possessive. You’re his and his only, and he wants everybody to know it.

Constant fake fighting between the two of you.

But if he ever accidentally actually hurt you? He would be an apologizing mess, begging for your forgiveness, when in reality, you were holding back laughter from how hard he was trying when in reality you didn’t care as much as he thought you did.

As we know, Sapnap has a few insecurities, so I feel like he would need a bit of reassurance sometimes.

He would just randomly ask you questions that you always answered the same

"What’s your favorite thing about me?"

"How much do you love me on scale from 1-10?"

"Why are you with me?"

Please just remind him how much you love him.

Hate to break it to you, but he’s definitely a little bitch during fights.

And if you ever tried to kiss him or hug him mid-argument? Ohhh man.

If y’all were to ever get in a fight, just leave him alone. Literally, just walk off; it’s for the best.

He gets angered pretty easily, as we know, so basically just don’t piss him off.

He doesn’t mind pda at all. He doesn't even realize it’s something that some people don't like because it feels so normal to him.

He bases his mood off of yours. Not even on purpose; it just comes naturally.

You’re having a bad day? He’s having a bad day. You’re having the best day of your life? He’s having the best day of his life.

He spoils you so much, maybe even too much.

Anything and everything you want, he will get for you. It eventually gets to the point where you have to stop pointing out stuff you want because he buys it every. time.

He loves loves loves when you wear his clothes.

"Is that my hoodie?"

"Yes, when is it not."

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It’s just you."

He also loves when you wear dresses/skirts.

He absolutely adores showering with you. Every time you shower together, he’s wishing he could stay in that moment forever and ever.

Late night drives with blasting music ?!?! Instant yes.

Speaking of music, it’s definitely a huge green flag for him if you like his music taste.

He will do everything in his power to protect you and keep you safe.

NSFW:

Do I even need to say he’s dominant ?!

If you ever seriously wanted to try being dominant, he would let you, but it would be followed up right after with him taking over.

I feel like he has a lottt of kinks.

Dirty talk, discipline, humiliation, teasing, overstimulation, daddy kink, orgasm control/denial, etc.

Ass guy 100%

Loves loves loves eating you out.

He loves your thighs so much oh my god 😵‍💫

Continuing off that, he loves to cum on your thighs or inside of you.

Gives you so many markings just to remind you you’re all his.

He’s so rough with you, he just has to give you the sweetest aftercare. :)

I feel like the only times he’d be gentle are early in the morning, late at night, or if one of you needed some comfort.

He totally kisses you the whole time, sloppy kisses, but still kisses.

He would much rather focus on your pleasure than his. You being pleasured brings him pleasure.

His favorite position is either doggy style or reverse cowgirl.

PUBLIC SEX HOLY SHIT …

Every time before he’s about to do something new he will ask you if it’s okay. Ex: Moving from giving you hickeys to eating you out, moving from eating you out to fucking you, etc.

I actually don’t think he’s that experienced…

When you’re not around, he will totally jack off to pictures of you. He has no shame about it.

I feel like he only goes for one or two rounds.

Oh, how he loves to get his hair pulled.

He also loves to be praised so much oh my god.

Overall, he is pretty dominant, but focuses on you more than himself. <3

[denalidear]

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

[mathanlin]

// mentions of past abuse & neglect, burns

Foster AU where foster kid!Tommy’s ready to destroy the Watsons.

Not *fight* them — he’s not stupid (and… maybe he falters at their persistent kindness). But there’s other ways to get his anger out. 

Like vandalism.

And his first target is Phil’s stupid parenting book.

The stupid fucker left it out, bookmarked and all. It falls open as Tommy snatches it, intending to shred the thing.

His eyes catch a few words. Abuse. Neglect. Trauma.

But what he truly reads is the highlighted line.

“...may act aggressive or lash out to hide their fear.”

Tommy… hesitates.

No. This is adrenaline & anger, not— not fear. 

But he won’t rip the book to confetti (celebrating how he’ll surely be forced out). He just grabs a pen, scribbling out the stupid highlighted line.

And scrawls his own note. “Fuck you. I’m not fucking afraid.”

And he’s *not.*

Not when he’s driving back from school, bantering with (and insulting) the twins. Not when he strolls into the Watson’s house, laughing too loud to be safe.

Not when he sees Phil on the couch, book open in his lap.

Tommy freezes in the doorway, paralyzed as the twins tumble past him.

Phil looks up. Right at Tommy. And… maybe, just for a second, he’s afraid. 

But that’s replaced by jaw-dropping confusion as Phil just *smiles,* setting the book to the side. “Hey mate. How was the day?”

Fuck it. Tommy hates him, but he hates being confused more. (And that’s what this is. Confusion. Not fear.)

So he stays silent as the twins joke with him, as Phil makes supper, as they drift off to bed.

And the moment he’s alone, he rushes to the book & flips it open.

There’s his mess of scribbled-out lines. His note, in ugly bold. 

And… neat, small handwriting, right beneath it.

“It’s alright to be scared *or* angry.”

And next to it, a *fucking smiley face.*

Tommy’s jaw drops even before his eyes flick to the other note, a Post-It on the page.

“It’s the one-week anniversary of your first day here! We’d love to get you a gift, let me know what you’d like.” 

One week. Like he’s staying.

Like he deserves gifts, after what he’s done.

Tommy’s eyes don’t burn. He doesn’t forget to breathe, trembling quietly.

No. He just scoffs out loud. (Even if it wavers painfully, far too close to a sob.)

And grabs a pen.

The next morning, the book’s moved, sitting on the end table next to Phil’s favorite mug. 

And the next evening, there’s a stack of gifts outside Tommy’s room. (Despite his note, “I don’t need shit. Fuck off.”)

Soft sweaters. Little fidget toys. Candy.

And an annotating set.

Tommy much prefers his permanent marker — thick, bold, destructive.

But Phil never seems to see it like that. No matter how much Tommy swears or blots out the book’s sappier lines. 

And even then, he’s… talking, more. Having genuine conversations through notes in the margins.

“Which of these sounds nice?”

Tommy goes still, staring at Phil’s neat handwriting. His heart hitches at the little chart above it. Types of affection. Hugs. Compliments. Gifts.

Hand trembling, he grabs his own pen. No sharpie.

For once, he feels like being quiet.

“I don’t need any of these. I never have.”

The thought festers in his mind, no matter how many times Wil ruffles his hair or Techno’s dry remarks turn to compliments. Or how Phil looks at him, so impossibly soft.

And when Phil replies, it’s only two words. 

“Page 96.”

Tommy can barely turn the pages, his hands are shaking so hard. 

And when he does, he can hardly see through his tears.

The book’s text is neat. Scientific. Pragmatic. 

And it still tears Tommy apart.

“Every child requires and deserves affection, both physical and emotional.”

Then, a little note below it. Phil’s.

“Please let me know if you’d like to talk.”

And… Tommy wants to, if just to answer the questions crying out in his mind. 

To stop his tears from dripping onto the book’s pages. 

(If I deserved it, why didn’t I get it?)

He tucks the book under his arm, grabbing Phil’s mug from the end table with shaking hands. 

Tea. He’ll make tea. Phil’s favorite, so that even if he pushes Tommy away, maybe he won’t hate him enough to force him away for good.

(And so Tommy can calm himself. So he can stop crying, so he can talk instead of sob.)

But he never gets the chance to speak.

One trembling misstep is all it takes.

The mug tips, sending boiling water over Tommy’s desperately reaching hands. With a horrible crash, it shatters across the floor.

And the stupid fucking book sits right in the puddle’s center, no longer soaked with just Tommy’s tears. 

Right there, he gives up, crumpling to the kitchen floor despite the shards beneath him.

It doesn’t matter that his hands ache, in agony from the scalding burn. His heart hurts worse, as he finally lets himself sob, alone.

It isn’t anger. It isn’t just adrenaline.

It’s fear.

But it doesn’t matter. He won’t ask for comfort or someone to cling to.

(Even if he apparently ‘needs’ and ‘deserves’ it.)

No. He’ll stay quiet — what every foster parent had wanted of him, and what only Phil had managed to get.

He’d wanted to break everything in the beginning. To be loud, to destroy things, to hurt the Watsons in any way possible.

But now, if he’s the last thing to break? 

He’ll give no words, no written notes.

He’ll be quiet.

.

.

.

“Oh god. Tommy.”

It’s the worst thing that could’ve happened. Phil, standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at the broken porcelain. And the book, utterly ruined. 

But the things he seems most concerned with are Tommy’s hands. 

“Here,” he says, guiding Tommy to the sink and nudging his hands beneath the cold water. He obeys numbly, frozen as Phil disinfects and bandages every burn.

When he finishes, Tommy finds the strength to speak, curled into the couch like it could protect him.

“Are you mad at me?”

They’re the first words he’s spoken directly to Phil in ages. With his burnt, bandaged hands, it’s not like he can write.

(And maybe he’d like to hear Phil’s voice, too.)

Phil looks at him so softly Tommy can almost believe what he says.

“No. I’ve never been mad at you.”

“But— I broke your mug.”

“I just want you to be okay,” Phil says, glancing at Tommy’s bandaged hands like they’re hurting him too. He laughs quietly. “The mug doesn’t matter.”

“And… and the book?”

Phil goes still, and Tommy almost sobs in fear.

But the man just leans closer, ducking his head to meet Tommy’s eyes like he’s uttering a promise.

“I only cared about that book because of you,” he says quietly. “So you’d feel comfortable. So you’d ask me for whatever you needed.”

Tommy swallows, curled in on himself. There’s no time to think about his response, no proofreading like when he’d written them out. 

So when Phil quietly asks, “Is there anything you need?”

Tommy whispers, weak and desperate, “A hug?”

And of course, Phil gives it. That, and so much more.

The mug’s shards get sweeped up, and the first thing Phil makes in the kitchen is Tommy’s favorite breakfast. 

For once, he lets himself enjoy it. Enjoy *them,* their laughter and love so freely given.

And the first thing he writes after his hands have healed? 

His name. His signature, really.

Right next to Phil’s, on the final line of his adoption papers.

[lovesickgolbach]

Words I Didn’t Say || LN4

Description: You and Lando had been together privately for about 2 years. You loved him dearly, but over time things started to turn sour.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader (Max’s sister) 

Warnings: Mentions of unfaithfulness, swearing, physical fights, mad max (does that even need a warning?)

Thank you so so so so much to @cchxrlotte who helped me with the Dutch translation! you are so kind for helping out!

a/n: hey friends, a new bestie of mine came up with this brilliant idea and we spent a few hours brainstorming it. i hope you like it. @ancient-darling​

Part 2

It had been the end of the race at the Hungaroring, Max, your twin brother had finished P1, whilst your boyfriend Lando had managed to finish P7, as much as you would have liked to be happy for him, you just couldn’t. You waited patiently for your brother to stop in parc fermé, smiling at him and snapping pictures as he stood on top of his car, cheering for his major win after having to start P10. You couldn’t have been more proud of him in that moment. 

He came over and hugged you tight. “Ik wist dat je het kon, Maxje" I knew you could do it, Maxie you spoke in Dutch, smacking his helmet playfully. Although you were smiling, he instantly saw something was off. He saw it in your eyes, knowing the look in them all too well, he was your twin after all. “ Kom naar me toe na de podium ceremonie" Come see me after the podium he spoke softly in Dutch, before leaving to go to the cool down room.

Lando didn’t even make an effort to come see you after his race. It stung, although your relationship was not public, it wasn't out of the ordinary for you and him to share a hug after the race, afterall, he was your brothers best friend too. You swallowed the lump in your throat and watched your brother recieve his first place trophy. 

The podium ceremony had come and gone, Max had taken a quick shower and you were waiting for him in the Red Bull hospitality. You sighed, checking your phone but seeing nothing from Lando. You had been scrolling through Instagram when the post caught your eye. You froze, not knowing what to do. Max had seen this and walked over to you. “Y/n?” he looked down at your phone in your hands, instantly tensing up at the post.

On your phone screen was a video, with multiple images of Lando, with his arm around a girl, two girls to be exact. Your heart sunk. Yeah, Lando had a lot of girl friends and sure he hung out with them a lot, but you never had a reason to feel insecure, you trusted him. Well that was until around 5 minutes ago, when you stumbled upon that god forsaken post.

“Kom, ik wil dat de media met mij doet" Come, I want you to do media duties with me Max took your phone, locking it and putting it in his pocket. He knew you needed a distraction, so you just nodded. “How could he..” you looked down at your hands, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. “Let us not think about him okay?” it was not often that your brother spoke English to you, but you nodded leaning into his side when he pulled you into a comforting hug. Max kissed your head softly and entered the media pen.

You stood just out of view of the camera, listening to what your brother had to say about his race. He spoke so excitedly, knowing how well he had driven to get that P1 spot. 

As you waited for your brother to conclude his interview, you got a hand full of greetings from the other drivers, obviously they had known you were Max’s twin sister, but what they hadn’t known was that you had also been dating Lando. Your relationship was very much private, due to the face that you didn’t want to cause chaos between McLaren and Red Bull. So that post that the fan had made on Instagram, was completely innocent. How would they have known that it would absolutely wreck your day and possibly your entire two year relationship. 

“Y/n?” you were pulled out of your thoughts by that all too familiar voice. Lando stood next to you, smiling. You looked at him, his hair was a mess from the baklava that he had been wearing and he was still in his race suit. Usually that suit would make your chest flutter, but all you felt was heartache.

“Lando.” You spoke, ice laced in your words. 

“What’s the matter with you, jeez” He looked at you, confused at why you were behaving the way you were. 

Before you could respond, Max had come over, moving you so you were now standing behind him. “You should leave, Lando. Right now” He spoke plainly.

“What? Why? What’s going on? I want to see my girlfriend Max.” Lando tried pushing him out of the way but Max didn’t move. Tension filled the air, angry tension. 

“Max, move right now or I swear to god I’ll-” Max cut him off. “You’ll what? Fuck other women behind my sisters back?!” He seethed through gritted teeth and Lando took a step back. “What are you on about mate?!” Lando looked at him confused.

You couldn’t move. It was like you were frozen in place. Your whole entire world seemed to come crashing down around you. 

“Y/n baby what’s going on?” Lando looked at you and started moving towards you. Before he could even get remotely close, Max shoved him away. “Stay away from her!”

“Don’t fucking touch me!’ Lando shoved him back, with more force and before you could even blink, the pair of them were in a full blown fist fight. “M-Max s-stop!” you choked through your tears watching your brother punch into Lando relentlessly. 

Max was pulled off by Charles and Checo, holding him back tightly. “I’ll fucking kill him I swear!” Max struggled in their grip, watching Daniel and Lewis tend to Lando, who now had a bleeding lip and a small bruise forming on his jaw. Max had also been hit by Lando, leaving him with an eye that was slowly turning black.

Reporters stood frozen in place, trying to decipher what had just happened. Cameras and eyes were everywhere. You felt small and embarrassed at what had just unfolded in front of you. 

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, it was Sebastian. “Let me take you back to hospitality okay?” He spoke into your ear softly and you nodded. He turned to Max and Lando, “You two as well, get out of the view of the cameras.” he walked with you back to the paddock. You were shaking, because not only does the media now know about yours and Lando’s relationship, but now they’ve seen the really ugly side of it. They also saw how your brother was ready to kill him. 

The realization had hit you like a bus when you walked into hospitality and the entirety of the Red Bull team laid there eyes on you. ‘I will never be allowed into the paddock again..’ you thought to yourself seeing their faces.

Max walked in, asking everyone for some privacy, which they respected and left. Seb left too, patting you on your shoulder for some comfort, you smiled up at him softly.

Daniel had walked in with Lando, moving across to the other side of the room and letting him sit on a chair. “You two are going to sit and talk this out like adults and not fight about it like brainless teenagers!” Daniel spoke angrily.

Lando looked over at you “Y/n can you please tell me what the fuck is going on here and why Max tried to kill me in front of everyone?!”

“You-You cheated, Lando..” You looked up at him with an exhausted, broken expression. “Don’t deny it.. I saw the pictures” you used your sleeve to wipe your eyes. Lando was dead silent. 

“Oh wow so you won’t even deny it?!” Max spoke now, anger laced in his voice. “I let you date my sister and this is how you fucking treat her?!” Max’s hands clenched at his sides. 

“Maxje, kan je mij en Lando een paar minuutjes alleen laten?" Maxie, please can you leave me and Lando alone for a few minutes? you spoke Dutch to him, at least you had some sort of privacy with Max. “Ik laat je niet alleen met hem, Y/n" I’m not leaving you alone with him, Y/n. Max said calmly to you. 

“Hij gaat me niks aan doen hoor, Max, en ik weet zeker dat Kelly met je wel praten. Wacht alsjeblieft maar gewoon buiten met Daniel" It’s not like he’s going to hurt me, Max, and I’m sure Kelly would like to talk to you. Just go wait outside with Daniel please? you almost pleaded with him. He nodded, “Come, let’s give them space” Max said with clenched teeth to Daniel, who got up and left with him. 

Once they were out, you pulled a chair out from under the table, sitting across from him. He reached out to lay his hand on your knee but you shook your head. “Don’t” was all you said and you moved slightly back.

“I-I just don’t understand Lando.. I’m struggling to find the words b-but I trusted you.. I understand that you wanted to keep us private for my safety and that I agreed to do so, but you didn’t have to make it a secret that you were in a relationship. Just because I didn’t attend parties with you doesn’t mean I stop existing..” You took a few deep breaths. “And I’m not saying you did cheat, but you had your arms around them, they were touching you like you were some piece of meat. Would you have liked if I went out and every other man was touching my waist? Pulling me close, dancing with me?”

Lando was silent, looking down at his lap. He knew he had fucked up. “Didn’t think so” you spoke softly, sniffing.

“I gave you everything Lando... and all I got in return was this” you motioned to him with your hands. “Are you even going to say anything?” you crossed your arms across your chest.

Lando looked up at you, his face had guilty written all over it. He knew you were right, but what could he do? Nothing he could say would reverse the damage that has already been done. You had proof too. He didn’t cheat, he never even dreamt of it, but he won’t deny loving the attention those girls had been giving him that night on the yacht. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n” he managed to get out. 

“And I don’t forgive you Lando. Not right now at least.” you sighed.

 The room was fully silent, tensions were high. Lando had known it was coming, yet he ignored the signs.

“I think we should take a break, for a while.” You spoke, breaking the silence. “I-I love you Lando, with my whole being. This isn’t easy, it won’t ever be.. but i can’t continue like this if I am going to be treated as the side bitch. So um.. please come get your stuff from my apartment when you get home..” Tears were threatening to fall but you blinked them away quickly. Taking his head between your hands and making him look at you, you kissed him softly.

 “Bye, Lando” was all you said before going to Max’s drivers room, shutting the door and sinking down the side of the wall, you curled up with your knees to your chest, sobbing, finally letting out all the emotion you had been keeping in.

Daniel and Max watched as Lando stormed out of the Red Bull hospitality, going down the paddock towards McLaren. Daniel said a quick goodbye to Max and rushed after his teammate. Max walked in, he heard your sobs coming from his drivers room, he entered slowly, not to startle you.

“Het doet zo f-fucking veel pijn, Max!" It hurts so f-fucking much Max! you sobbed, ghasping for air as your chest burned from how hard you were crying. You felt so hopeless and weak. Here you were, a Verstappen, sobbing over a boy like a little bitch, you mentally cussed yourself out. Verstappens’ aren’t weak, especially with a father like yours’ and Max’s. 

Max sat down next to you, pulling you closer to him. “Laat het gaan, ik ben er" Let it out, I’ve got you he held you protectively. Although you were twins, Max had always been protective of you, even though you were 5 minutes older. You loved him for that though, he always protected you and made sure you were safe. You loved your brother dearly. 

You sat like that with Max for a while, until you calmed down. Your head was resting on his shoulder with your eyes closed. “Kunnen we opstaan? Mijn kont word lam" Can we get up? My ass is going numb he giggled and you did too. “Die van mij eigenlijk ook" Mine too, honestly You stood up, offering him a hand, which he took and pulled himself up. He pulled you into his chest, giving you a tight hug. “Thanks, Maxie" you smiled up at your brother softly, who just held you close and comfortingly. 

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It was week 2 of the summer break, you had been staying with Max and Kelly in their apartment, acting as a babysitter for P while they were on a couples getaway. You were in the living room, helping her color in the picture that she had been coloring in all day. 

“What color do you want her hair to be, P?” You smiled at the little girl who had been seemingly ignoring the lines and drawing her own dress onto the character. “Green” she pointed to the lime green crayon. “Alright” you smiled and started coloring in the hair of the character, a knock brought you out of your thoughts. “Who could that be?” You asked P, but it was more rhetorical than anything.

You walked to the front door, opening it. You felt the wind get knocked out of you seeing those familiar eyes and curly hair look back at you. “What are you doing here Lando?” You spoke, annoyed that he had shown up unannounced. 

“Just read this..” he handed you an envelope and you had taken it unsure. It was a very think envelope, quite heavy too. “Bye” Lando spoke, practically running out the door.

“Uncle Landoooooooo!” Penelope squeaked behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden loud noise. You knew she adored her Uncle Lando, so you didn’t try to stop her. 

She ran out of the door into his arms when he was crouching down to catch her. “Hey P” he smiled at her, hugging her tight. “How have you been?” he leaned back slightly so he could see her better. “I good! Do you wanna see my drawing?” she asked sweetly and Lando looked at you, unsure. You nodded, telling him it’s okay to come in. You couldn’t let Penelope suffer because of your own personal issues. He was still someone she loved and looked up to.

He put P down, holding her hand and letting her drag him in. “Wooooow P! This is so cool!” he smiled at her drawing. “Did you draw the dress all by yourself?” he knelt down beside her and she nodded vigorously. “All by me!!” she cheered, feeling proud of her drawing.

As if the situation couldn’t get more awkward, in walked your overprotective twin brother and his girlfriend. “Y/n? Whose car is par-” he made eye contact with Lando and his expression changed instantly. His eyes became dark. 

“Come say hi P!” Kelly smiled at her daughter and took her upstairs quickly to stop her from seeing whatever may unfold between Max and Lando. 

“Max, jij bent snel ter-" Max you’re back ear-you were cut off by him. “Shut up Y/n! What is he doing here?!” he yelled, which he never does to you, especially in English.

“He just showed up Max, P spotted him and wanted to say hi, I couldn’t say no to her Max.” You explained calmly.

He sighed, “Leave, Lando.” Max’s voice was calm, eerily calm. You looked over at Lando, who had gone pale at the sudden arrival of him. All he could do was nod. “Read it” Lando spoke quickly, running out of the house as quickly as his legs would let him. 

“Heeft hij je pijn gedaan?" Did he hurt you? Max looked over at you and you shook your head. “Echt waar, hij is niet bij me in de buurt geweest, Maxje" He didn’t come near me Maxie, I promise. You smiled at him. “Jij bent vroeg tuis, was de vakantie niet leuk?" You came home early, was vacation not fun? You started cleaning up P’s crayons and Max helped. “It was, but Kelly missed P and als ik haar nog eens had horen zeuren werd ik gek" if I had to hear her complain one more time I would have lost my mind. he smiled, sitting down on the couch. 

“Well I hope you had some fun atleast. I know P and I had the best time.” 

“Yeah until that son of a bitch showed up and let himself into my house” had looked at you. You sighed. “I’m sorry okay? I don’t want P to suffer because of what he did. Ze kijkt naar hem op, Max" She looks up to him, Max 

“En je had nee kunnen zeggen tegen haar!" And you could have told her no! Max yelled loudly again, making you jump slightly. All you could do was nod. “Alright...” you breathed as you walked upstairs to your room quickly, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. 

The letter in your hands seemed to burn with anticipation, calling for you to open it and so you did. 

The letter was written in his sorry excuse for ‘tidy handwriting’ and you smiled softly to yourself, remembering how bad he felt when you told him you couldn’t read his handwriting. So he tried his best to tidy it up so you could read it, which helped. 

The Letter

Y/n, my first and only true love. The one who I wanted to wake up next to every morning, for the rest of my life. The one who I needed like the oxygen i breathe. You were my oxygen, my saving grace. You were the one who pushed me to be the person I am today, and I will forever be grateful for that. 

But I am a liar, Y/n. A filthy one too. You didn’t deserve what I put you through, not at all. I screwed it up, I know. I went out with those girls, one of them kissed me, and I kissed back. I knew it was wrong, I really did. Yet- I didn’t stop. I knew I should have, and I still didn’t. 

I didn’t deserve you, in fact, no one deserves you. You’re too good for this world. You’re too good for anyone. 

I’ll never forget us. I’ll never forget you. 

You deserve the world, and I couldn’t give it to you. I know sorry will never make it better, but I am sorry and I will forever be.

I will never forget the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, or the way they lit up when you were excited. I will never forget the way your hand fit into mine perfectly, as if every part of you was made for me. I will never forget your soft kisses or your tight hugs. 

I won’t ever forget you. 

I know we wont stand another chance of being together again, but please never forget what we did have. I will forever love you. 

These are the Words I Didn’t say: I LOVE YOU.

-Lando. 

Your eyes brimmed with tears, those three words you were dying to hear from him. If he had just known how much you needed to hear them, maybe you wouldn’t be in this current situation. But he was also a cheater, which stung. Nothing ever will repair that trust that was broken. Nothing. 

You looked at the note, feeling a weight off your shoulders, partly because you had gotten some answers now. Yes, your heart still hurt, especially because he had cheated, but you knew deep down that it was perhaps for the best. Your mind was racing, so many thoughts at once, but one rang over and over in your mind. You suddenly felt enraged, ripping the stupid letter to shreds.

Fuck You, Lando Norris.