#so it's like... it's been a shitshow but I think we are managing the whole ''I'll find a way to make it a good year no matter what'' thing

[thethingything]

the seasons so far this year have felt really weird. it was unseasonably warm in February, didn't really seem to get gradually warmer through the rest of spring, randomly ended up being frosty at the start of May, also randomly ended up foggy yesterday in a way I associate with late autumn, and the trees had blossom since late January but no leaves until some time last month.

but then the weather suddenly got a lot warmer recently and now it feels summer-y and we keep having to have the A/C on and it's basically felt like being in a bizarre liminal state where the seasons are kind of malfunctioning and fucked up and then suddenly being thrown into early summer, having not really been prepared for that because what the fuck even was this spring

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[genericpuff]

The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere

Alright, so I had mentioned leading up to the release of the newest LO episode that my feelings regarding LO returning were pretty "meh". Not hyped, but not completely back of mind either. Just sort of a weird calm before the storm type feeling that could go either way.

I'm glad I got to have that moment of calmness because good god, this episode was an absolute shitshow. And honestly, I'm not surprised, for several reasons:

Rachel has never been good at maintaining a buffer, even back at the start of the series she only ever had 2-3 episodes ready ahead of her schedule which is NOT an ideal buffer for an originals series.

Rachel has never been good at writing, she's very "draw first write later" and has stated as such in interviews that when she gets 'stuck' on what she's writing, she'll just start drawing and fit the pieces in later.

Four months is NOT enough time to both rest, attend massive conventions, and work on improving a project while also getting buffer episodes ready.

Because of the FP episodes remaining locked over the hiatus, technically Rachel only needed to have ONE episode ready upon return for the newest FP release, not multiple like she'd usually need like in the past during the S2 midseason hiatus or the season finale episodes which would unlock those FP releases like normal - so for all we know, she could have drawn this episode literally last week, especially when the promo material was so last minute. Frankly I think it was REALLY stupid for whoever it was who decided to keep these FP episodes locked (whether it was her or WT, it was more likely WT) but you can read all I have to say about that in my review of the midseason finale episodes.

All that's to say, no, there was never any guarantee Rachel was going to somehow "turn around" the ride we're currently on. I know that many of the critics were hoping for that to happen, but with the circumstances of the hiatus mixed with Rachel's bad habits of putting her best efforts into the procrastination projects that aren't her actual comic (ex. the few original pieces and LO sketches she put out during the hiatus) it just wasn't in the cards. This is where the comic is at and this is where it will remain until it's over.

I want to also point something out about this episode that was... really glaring to me.

As with all of these hiatus returns, LO got priority advertising in the first two banner slots and push notifications AND a popup ad within the app. This is unsurprising, Webtoons is still trying to milk this thing for what it's worth.

I know a lot of people are gonna focus on the art, or the fact that WT is continuing to shill LO, but I wanna point out the part that WT implemented specifically - "NEW SEASON".

This is literally just false. At best I'd like to think some intern just messed up and thought this was a new season, but it's literally not, the episode designation still says "S3". Note that the creators only design the banner art, the actual labels on top are put there by Webtoons.

But at worst, this feels like blatant lying to continue to hide the fact that LO is ending. Mind you, Rachel and Webtoons have still not put out official posts stating that this is the final arc. There is NOTHING from either of them to communicate to the audience that the comic is ending next year. It feels like they're trying to avoid the topic altogether out of fear of losing the fanbase they still have, rather than hyping up the comic's end for those who have stuck around to see how it all wraps up. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case, considering they're now trying to funnel the fanbase into Penguin/Inklore with new marketing deals and the whole Rachel Smythe Presents thing. They're trying to make this seem like the beginning of something "new" when it's really just a quiet shifting of management (Penguin House).

But all that aside, let's actually get into the episode. It's one episode after 4 months, which is not standard for LO's hiatuses, typically FP episodes release on schedule (meaning free readers start hiatuses 3 weeks after FP readers do), the only time this has been an exception has been with the 2 week breaks because the whole point of those was to build a buffer (which you can't do if you're going ahead and releasing the FP episodes anyways). For extended hiatuses like these, usually free readers still get their FP episodes, but that wasn't the case here. That means Rachel technically only needed one episode ready for the comic's return, and it shows. It really fucking shows.

FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS REGARDING EPISODE 254. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED !!!

As per tradition, we get a title that means nothing at all. It just says what we already know.

Our collective husband Zeus is dying, no thanks to the poison cupcake fed to him by Apollo. For those who don't remember, Apollo had tricked Zeus into eating the cupcake by making him believe it was from Hebe. We are fully aware that it was Apollo who poisoned him. Remember that for later in this review.

Right off the bat we're off to a hilarious start, both with a cryptid appearance from Apollo in the background (lmao) who is, for some reason, ALREADY returning to the scene of the crime he just committed because... who knows at this point. Apollo and Psyche know it was Apollo at this point, I might add, but I have no clue why Apollo is actually returning to the scene of the crime when he has no idea Eros and Psyche know.

Moving on from that, can we talk about this hilarious dialogue?

"We have to call a doctor! Let's call Asclepius!"

"No, we can't trust him! Gosh darn it, why are we only bothering to think of ONE doctor in this universe where we've seen more than one doctor?? Guess Zeus is just gonna die! What a horribly contrived situation this is!"

And that's literally how I can best describe most of this episode. Contrived. There is a LOT of manufactured drama in this that makes ZERO sense even on a surface level.

And what do you mean exactly, Eros? "What a terrible system!" Is this supposed to be a joke? Lampshading? We've seen Persephone go to the gynecologist. There are non-god doctors who tend to gods all the time here.

Eros just doesn't seem to be that pressed over this, he sounds like Ned Flanders and that's NOT a good way to open up a scene like this... let alone an episode people have been waiting four months for.

Anyways, after a few pointless reaction panels (again remember I have to cut a lot of what I show here for Tumblr image limitations but I promise you, I'm keeping as much important stuff as I can in this, there's just THAT MUCH filler at this point), Eros and Psyche confront Apollo and he is... good god.

There is... so much to unpack here.

First of all, remember those theories about how Rachel was clearly trying to write Apollo as this "secret twist villain" the whole time but it doesn't work because Apollo is simultaneously written as both a 'conniving villain' and a massive dumbass at the same time?

Well, I finally have a more appropriate term for him. He's your average red pill redditor - someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else when really all he does is sit on reddit all day using big words incorrectly in arguments he gets himself into with a bunch of equally-air-headed dumbasses.

"You can't possibly understand the nuances of the Olympian political system," Apollo said proudly, a man who had, ironically and obliviously, run for president in a monarchy. The union of kettle and pot is eternal.

He's the Slappable Jerk but instead of it being a painfully hilarious impression, it's just painful and hilarious for all the wrong reasons.

this is so stupid because it's 1.) Eros pointing out how obvious Apollo's plan was, despite Apollo acting smart two seconds ago with a goddess who, mind you, has been a goddess for ten years, and 2.) patricide isn't even intrinsically linked to politics, there's nothing 'political' about a guy trying to kill his dad except in, idk, a monarchy, which again, Apollo has spent ten years trying to rise to power in as a president which is a completely different form of government.

If I wanted to be really granular with this, I'd like to think Apollo is making some kind of point about the critics who call out LO's whack as fuck political system (especially in the trial arc) - as if he's saying "well you're just a stupid reader and this is fantasy where you don't understand exactly what political system we're using, so shut the fuck up you stupid twig" - but I don't think it's meant to be that deep. I think it's just Rachel trying to write a smart character and then failing at it because she, herself, is not a smart writer. And I'm really inclined to believe that more than the theory about this being some kind of meta-narrative about the critics because this entire plotline is contrived and stupid down to its core.

I did not cut anything out here, that's the pacing. Leto literally just appears out of nowhere and uh oh spaghettio's, she has Kassandra! Remember Leto? The character we were led to believe was truly "pulling the strings" until she disappeared from the story completely after she realized that Apollo and Persephone weren't a thing, even going so far as to call out her own son for being a fucking dumbass? Well, she's back and once again she's being involved as some kind of "double agent" in this whole thing, even though we literally haven't seen her since halfway through S2.

"Mm yes, you're so stupid, falling into my trap! Even though you had no reason to remember Kassandra anyways because she's literally a mortal woman you just met and you yourself have committed acts of violence against mortals without a shred of care! I'm so smart! My plan is all coming together!"

We've never seen Apollo do anything except cry and poop his pants, the closest he got to being "powerful" was his attempts to murder Daphne (who he seems to have forgotten about in this "master plan" of his) but ultimately he's literally just a piss ant baby and there's no reason to believe that he could somehow outmatch the God of Love who can literally manipulate people's emotions and states of mind with his arrows. But yeah sure go off, you're so powerful and smart.

The worst part is, I can't even buy this as the narrative trying to be like "see how manipulative and conniving he is?" because it's just silly. We've SEEN this man cry with his victim complex, we've seen him say and do the DUMBEST things that don't lend to any amount of "intelligence" he may have, it comes across less as him being "smart the whole time" and more as him trying to sound smart but ultimately sounding incredibly stupid. And I can't even immerse myself into it and buy that maybe that's the point, because it doesn't feel like the point, it just feels like inconsistent writing, he doesn't feel like a 'threat', he's just monologuing.

Bad art and Apollo literally just repeating what Leto already implied so this is a waste of the audience's time.

This is the funniest panel in the whole episode because I can't tell if Apollo is supposed to be in the background (for some reason, despite him literally being in front of Eros and Psyche two seconds ago) or if he's in the foreground and just REALLY small for some reason. This is so off-putting. And of course, it's just Apollo explaining what we're ALREADY SEEING ONSCREEN.

You see, in addition to this episode being contrived, it also talks down to its audience a LOT by explaining exactly what we're seeing onscreen. It's like Rachel saw the criticisms about her not including enough to depict what's actually going on in her head and so she thought the solution was to spoon feed information over pictures that are already doing the job of explaining what's going on. Rachel really doesn't know how to write and even when she tries to implement changes that reflect criticisms that have been made of her writing, she somehow makes things worse because she completely misses the point of what those criticisms are trying to get across.

Anyways, without even trying to resist (for some reason) Eros and Psyche get sentenced to horny jail.

They're now trapped in a basement that Leto somehow has in her home. How do we know that?

HAHAHA FUNNY LAMPSHADING SO FUNNNYYYYYYY

Leto claims that they shouldn't try to escape because the dungeon is "enchanted", but she doesn't even bother to explain what that means. So they literally don't bother trying. They don't try to call her bluff, they don't try to teleport out of there, they literally just go "well shoot", shrug their shoulders, and accept their fate. Just like with the whole "we can't trust the only doctor we bothered to think of" situation, Eros and Psyche are turning out to be some of the stupidest, lowest-effort characters in this comic who literally can't be bothered to try because that would require too much brain power.

Notice how much time we've spent on this and we haven't gotten back to where the cliffhanger of the last episode left off? Well buckle up because there's still more to cover.

So it turns out Hebe was still inside with her dad, in FULL VIEW of what was going on through glass which is somehow COMPLETELY soundproof, and when Apollo steps inside, she just has no idea what happened. She never bothered to even look outside to see what was going on with Eros and Psyche, she's just been sitting on the floor staring at Zeus' dead face for what was likely several minutes, unless Rachel is seriously trying to convince us that conversation and hostage negotiation from earlier only took 2 seconds. The timeline is such a mess at this point that characters basically freeze in place as soon as they're not the focus of the scene.

Apollo rushes inside, acting shocked over the situation, and when Hebe asks where Eros and Psyche are (again, she could have just looked out the window at any time), he's just like "dur idk they just left lol" which Hebe just... buys, I guess.

That's just Persephone but yellow. She's even missing her beauty mark.

See how Apollo put his hand on Zeus' chest/shoulder by the way?

Apparently, despite Mr. Smarter Than Everyone Else trying to pretend it wasn't him, he's able to discern that Zeus is dying from a toxic and rare poison just from touching him. He doesn't even really seem to use his powers, he just touches him and goes "welp he's dead i guess lol don't bother asking me how I know that".

But oh nooo remember that note from before? Well gasp Apollo's gonna use it to frame Hebe! In front of no one else at all!

Hebe of course says she didn't write it, but Apollo continues to try and frame her anyways, even though, again, there's no one else present here, and so it effectively just becomes the most absurd form of gaslighting I've ever seen.

Again, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE IN THE SCENE. He's just trying to claim she did it to absolutely no one at all, in the hopes of... what exactly? That she'll just take the fall for something she knows she didn't do? That she'll somehow be convinced? It's not like Hebe has the same thing going on as Persephone where she has a 'wrathful dark side' he could pin it on, this is just a criminal who just robbed a building pointing at the first person they see and yelling "YOU DID IT!"

All I'm saying is that Apollo would be really bad at Among Us. He'd be the type of player to kill someone, hit the report button, then claim yellow did it which, even if he DID convince the rest of the team, would still get kicked anyways as soon as yellow was proven through the eject to not be the imp and everyone would go "okay cool so yellow wasn't the imp, that means obviously it's purple self-reporting." It's a trick that doesn't even work anymore because of how old it is. Hebe isn't a child here, she's an 18 year old woman who should be fully capable of raising an eyebrow and wondering why Apollo is this quick to accuse her - almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he did it.

But Hebe can't catch onto this, just like Eros and Psyche, she has to act stupid for the sake of the plot.

At first I thought maybe Rachel was trying to do some "whodunit" scenario, but that doesn't work here because we already know who did it. And while there are stories that exist like that that pull it off (ex. Knives Out) the problem with trying to do this the way Rachel did is that the person being framed has to have this thing called motive. The reason why Knives Out and Glass Onion work so well is because the person who was murdered (or conspired against) is someone who is being targeted by multiple people who could all be the murderer. It's quite literally called out in Glass Onion as a form of smart lampshading. "It's like putting a loaded gun on the table, and turning off the lights."

But it doesn't work here because Hebe does not have motive. If you're going to attempt to frame a murder on someone, it has to be someone who would have reasonable motive to commit that murder, even if they didn't actually commit it.

And who among Zeus' children has motive?

What about the war-mongering bloodthirsty god of war who has been regularly sentenced to time in the Mortal Realm to fight in wars in which he's been regularly injured?

What about the chaos-seeking wrathful goddess who would do it to get revenge on the parental figure who cast her aside, or even just for the fun of saying she did it?

Why try and pin it on Hebe, the doting daughter of Zeus who's only had a collective of maybe 20 panels in the entire comic?

But then I realized... it's not Knives Out, it's the fucking Lion King.

Which is just as contrived - if not more - than the assumption this was gonna be some attempt to frame Hebe. It's not. He's literally just trying to keep her from assuming it was him. He could have just as easily played dumb without calling attention to the note but he intentionally went out of his way to try and be Scar from The Lion King , while completely missing the point of why that scene worked in the original movie.

Scar wasn't trying to 'frame' Simba for Mufasa's murder. He was trying to hide the murder, while also attempting to get the only heir to the throne out of the picture, so he passed the guilt of the death onto Simba - a child who, unlike Hebe, wouldn't have the ability to rationalize or realize his uncle his a scumbag - who then ran away from home because he was too terrified to face his family for what happened, assuming that it was all his fault when it wasn't.

That's not how this is panning out here. Hebe is the now 18 year old daughter of Zeus, and not one of his only children. She doesn't even fit into the whole "sons overthrowing their fathers" prophecy like Aries would. Apollo is literally just being a big idiot here by saying "well I'm gonna give you a headstart to run away, because if you stay, I might hurt you" (which btw, should be MORE of a smoking gun that Apollo did it??)

And again, it's all so contrived so that the plot can move forward. "Well I'm going to frame you for this murder, but y'know, you should just leave, I'm not gonna try and press it further lmao"

Again, Apollo is a fucking idiot here, because he just attempted to frame someone who has NO MOTIVE to harm Zeus, to absolutely NO ONE at all who would side with him, only to let her go which would leave her to question why Apollo would try to accuse and harm her in the first place before considering other options. And through ALL this he claims he's the smart one, which I can't even be bothered to "love to hate" because it's written so poorly.

And really it all comes down to how everyone else behaves in relation to Apollo that makes it so stupid and unbelievable. Apollo, you're not smart just because all the characters around you are intentionally being written to be as stupid and non-confrontation as possible. If you can only write a smart villain by making everyone else stupid, you haven't written a smart villain, you've written a dumbass whose victory only happens due to contrived plot convenience. It's not even done well like in Glass Onion, it's just bad writing, full stop.

And who does he call to report this emergency? The satyr police? His son the doctor?

No.

The media. Literally just "hello, the media?? I need your best journalist here stat!"

I need you to understand, even if he were calling a tabloid magazine like The Weekly Nark, you don't just... call a journalist to report a murder. These are not the actions of someone who's trying to absolve himself of guilt, these are the actions of a complete dumbass trying to get news coverage of his trophy kill who would be better off just playing dumb instead of trying to play smart. Even Walter White wasn't this fucking stupid despite all the times he fell on his own sword, Apollo is literally just instigating suspicion towards himself for no reason at all. He's self-reporting so hard and worst of all, you can't even take any of this seriously because of how corny it is. There's no dramatic tension, no stakes, it's just a bunch of characters performing in a really bad stage play and reducing every conflict to "well I guess Zeus is just dead now because no one's bothering to make an effort to stop Apollo or ask questions lmao"

It's truly the epitome of "this plot wouldn't exist if characters would just talk to each other."

But finally, FINALLY we mention the thing this episode is named after, the transition point to Persephone.

Just like with the midseason finale episode, there's a lot to cover here, so I'm gonna get more into it in a part two post.

That said, you can see already this is the messiest, most contrived bullshit to ever wind up in LO. It's trying so hard to be smart and it just comes across as a bunch of toddlers in the world's worst stage play rendition of Clue. None of what was done here was in any way dramatic or tense, it's just a bunch of characters infodumping shit we already know, trying to set up new plot threads that don't make any sense, and allowing one another to get away with what they're doing because they don't bother to even try.

It's completely manufactured, contrived nonsense. It's not "smart", it's not "so dumb it's brilliant", it's just dumb.

[russellsppttemplates]

From the start, it was you (George Russell)

The heart doesn't seem to choose by team colours

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first driver!reader I've ever written, so I hope I've done a good job. Also, I did not plan to post this piece specifically now, but seems fitting with the whole shitshow that has been going on the past couple of days. Also, this is a plot I've seen written a lot, so I know there are many other pieces that are way better, and hopefully my take on it isn't too bad!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: race collision, medical exams, curse words, gender inequality comments

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Your purple race suit made you stand out amongst all of the other kids as you walked back from the podium, proudly smiling at your trophy, "Y/N! We're here!", you heard your father as he waved so you'd know where they stood, "congratulations, darling! That was an impressive overtake you did there in the last lap!", he praised, scratching your head before placing a kiss there, "I was trying to get first, but I couldn't get it", you admitted it, looking sideways at the boy who you couldn't take the first place from.

George Russell was a tall boy, same age as you, so you often raced against eachother. While you had become friends with some of the other kids, Russell wasn't one of them. It began when you tried to congratulate him for his P3 a few years ago, stretching your hand out politely, a smile on your face as he turned his back to you, mumbling something as he walked towards his parents. So, you weren't the best of friends if anyone asked.

"Y/N, darling, go stand next to the boys so I can take a picture of you! It will be such a good memory for when you're older!", your mother said excitedly, making you, George and the boy that finished his race behind you on each of your sides, smiling at the camera and hoping it would be as quick as possible, not wanting to stand next to him for a second longer than you should.

.

"I have your media day schedules here", Mary said as she handed you and Oscar your respective schedules, "Y/N, you're going to get interviewed with Charles, Yuki, George and Fernando", she stated as she then moved on to Oscar, explaing a few things to him since he was going first.

"And Y/N, while you're in there, try not to kill George, even with your eyes, okay?", she advised, tapping your shoulder softly as you looked at her sideways, "last time you were both in the same panel, you managed to be out of qualifying", she nodded, "only because our car wasn't that reliable, and we all know how theirs is", you pointed out, smiling sweetly and hoping to get on her side, "you're lucky you don't annoy me too much, Y/N", she smiled back.

The team had made many improvements to the car, granting you and Oscar the possibility to aim for higher places on the grid, and since you were a nerd about all things engineering, too, you loved when you were asked about the topic. But lately, the questions about the car seemed to get asked to your teammate Oscar, leaving the excuse that "the journalists already have the information they need", and because they didn't want to be accused of not asking you questions like it had happened before, it seemed to divert to other topics.

"Y/N, here", one of the journalists waved, grabbing your attention, "With the recent events and new propositions from the F1 Academy, do you think the sport is going to suffer from having a bigger opportunity that's being given to women in motorsport?", your heard him say, making your blood boil.

Despite the constant raised awareness for gender discrimination and discrimination in motorsport, especially in the last couple of years, some people still had it pretty engraved in their system, and while sometimes it came out looking a little bit more subtle, this one didn't even bother to soften the edges.

You'd be lying if you said this was the first time you heard these comments directed at you, or that you thought it would be the last, no matter how much you wished some sort of disciplinary measure was taken, "I woul-", you began before you heard a loud clash on the floor and felt water on your legs. The trousers you were wearing were soaked around your thighs and knees as George got up to grab the bottle that belonged to him, "I'm so sorry, Y/N", he apoligised as he put the lid back on, "I think it's best if we call it a day, hm? The next group needs to have this cleaned before they come in here", the Mercedes driver said as everyone seemed to agree and get up, bidding goodbye as Charles and George stayed until the end.

"Careful, don't slip", the monegasque driver said, making sure you wouldn't fall and walking out of the room with you, "figures the guy wouldn't even be here to check if everything's fine", you muttered as Charles chuckled, "you two really are like the cat and the mouse".

"He's not even here! He just flew off to his fancy room to delight in the joy of making fun of me", you grumbled, bidding goodbye to Charles as you found yourself by the entrance of Ferrari.

Walking the distance to meet your team, Mary was the first to get you, "I'm sorry they asked that", she said, "it's a good thing Russell spilled his drink", she teased, knowing you wouldn't want to dwell on the comments for long. It hardly solved the problem and you'd look into it in the team meeting when the time called for it, "promise you won't take him out in the race?".

Laughingly at her assumption and the fact that she had managed to pull you out of your misery as you walked to you driver's room, "don't worry, and tell the guys downstairs to now worry either, they're not going to have to build me a new car either", you flashed a smile before closing the door, changing into another pair of trousers you had brought with you.

.

"You're starting P4, Y/N", your race engineer said over the radio, "we are going to give it our all to support you and help you".

"And I'm going to drive the beat I can for you guys. Today, we get orange flying around and its going to be because of the Papaya team", you smiled under your helmet, "Oscar is P6, so I think we can even aim for a Podium, depends on how things go", you said.

As soon as the lights went out, you reacted quickly and passed the car that had been sitting next to yours, your race engineer confirming your third place and giving you a run down of all the grid changes.

"Do us proud, you're doing well, good pace", you heard on your speakers. You were enjoying the drive, analysing the data without team and looking for the right opportunity to overtake Charles, "go after the next turn, Y/N. Charles' tyres are not looking so good, so we think you have the upper hand there. George's car seems to be having some issues, too, he won't go after you", the pit wall channeled in your radio.

You looked in your mirrors as you were about to make the overtake, having patiently waited to reach the specific turn and going with it, confident that you would be able to overtake the red car.

A fraction of a second, you would always say, was game changing in Formula One. A decision to overtake or stay back, to accept the call to the pits or a new strategy, sometimes all it took was less than a second. And it also took less than a second for your car to start spinning, making you remove your hands from your steering wheel and brace yourself for the collision that would soon enough happen.

The impact wasn't as hard as you had expected, having felt most of it in your hips and shoulders. Groaning, you opened your eyes to see the damage, hearing "Y/N, can you tell us if you are okay?" over the radio.

Pressing the button, you heard the equipment's buzz, "I'm okay. I'm sorry about the car, guys", you gulped, adjusting yourself, "another car tapped me, right? Are they okay?", you asked, "George's fine from what we've heard".

After the marshalls confirmed you were free to go with the medical car to get checked over, you were back in the hospitality as the race continued, "doctor said I'll have some bruises, nothing too bad though", you gave them the report as you apoligised and thanked everyone on your side of the garage.

"Turns out they'll have to build you a new car after all", Mary offered as she hugged you, "if Russell had been more careful, this could've ended differently", you groaned.

"From what I've heard, he was trying a risky move and the car had an issue and locked up. He lost control of it and his front wing tapped your rear wheels just about enough to cause the crash", she explained, "it's not like he purposefully wanted to take you out", she reasoned.

"I know, it's just not ideal", you sighed, "we could both be in there". On the screen, Oscar was sitting P2, having successfully overtaken Charles a few laps in after the race resumed.

Even though George was far from your friend, you still wanted to check if he was okay, specially after seeing the impact the crash had on his car, too.

Walking to the Mercedes hospitality, a few people stopped you on your tracks briefly to express their relief on seeing you up and about and wishing you well before you found yourself by the glass doors.

"Is George here? I'd like to see if he's doing alright, but only if that's okay, I'm sure you're busy", you asked one of the media girls, Holly, recognising her from previous encounters.

"He's in his driver's room, yes, let me walk you there", she smiled, walking with you and knocking on the door, "George, may I come in?", she asked before he gave a positive answer, "Y/N is here, she wanted to talk to you", she stated, backing up so you could be seen, "yes, that's alright", the tall man said as Holly held out her arm, gesturing you to walk inside the room as she closed the door behind her, most likely going back to work on the race content.

"Hey", you waved awkwardly, "I don't have any other way to contact you, and asking your team how you were didn't seem... right? So, yeah, I came here", you gulped, suddenly feeling a weird pressure to act properly, whatever that meant.

"I'm good, barely got a scratch since I was able to stop the car before it hit the barriers", George explained, "and you? It looked pretty bad", he checked.

"I have some bruises, I think the adrenaline is slowing down now, so it's a bit painful, but nothing major", you clarified.

"The car had some issue and there was not way to control it, I just let it go because there wasn't anything I could do. I'm very glad you're okay", he half smiled as he looked at you.

In all the years you've known him and interacted with him, there had never been a time where he was this relaxed and smiley around you, not even when he had overtaken you in the last lap of the race. And while it was new, it was also comfortable.

"Me too, it looked scarier than it felt, though", you offered as he grabbed his water bottle to take a sip from it, "Oh, close the lid properly on that one", you chuckled playfully, not imagining the backlash and reaction it would have.

The new and comfortable mood turned back to the old and expecting one.

"Do you really think I'm that clumsy to drop a bottle like that? I wanted to get us out of there, to get you out of there because they were asking sexist questions", he stated, "and I didn't do it because I thought you couldn't defend yourself, because you sure know how to stop your foot and put it down, but because they don't deserve your time like that. Hell, I wish you spent that little time with me instead!", George yelled out, not missing your shocked expression, "maybe there was a time that I didn't like how you just showed up and got things done, but in the end, it's not because it's you, or because you're a woman. I wanted to be the one to show up and get things done, because I admire you so much", he gulped.

"So you're saying it's my fault that I've been labelled a bad sport because we constantly fight out there? That's why you've hated me?", your defensive side turned up, not dwelling on his kind words.

"I'm not saying it is either of our fault! I'm just trying to explain to you that I don't hate you like you think I do", he put his hands on his hips, walking around his room, "you might hate me, and that's fine, you know? I'm not going to be the one to tell you how you should feel, that's not how it works, but I have never hate you.

"I might've said I hated you when we were little, but that's because you probably stole my place on the podium, and even that was probably well deserved. I never thought I'd feel like this about you", he concluded.

"And what is it that you feel about me? Because I would like a warning should you want to beat me up to deal with all it is that you're feeling...?", you gestured to his stance. Was he saying he didn't hate you? Did he have other feelings that were actually in the happiness section of the emotion wheel and not near the anger section?

Chuckling, he approached you, "I have had feelings for you since we started driving in F2. At first I thought it was just the thrill of the competition and of having someone to challenge me, and when you got the Mclaren seat, I was so happy that you'd be racing against me", he further offered, "I don't know when it came out that we hated eachother, and when you didn't seem to feel otherwise, I tried to hate you, or at least dislike you, and it wasn't working, so I just let it go however it went, and it's led me here. And I'm being honest with you, so laugh all you want, or deal with it however you want to", he raised his hands as he excused himself.

"George, I nerve said anything because I can't afford to say those things. How many rivalries have you seen in motorsport? So many, and many more that are not written in books and shown off in videos. And none of them have apoligies to offer, or rather, the very few that have done it, turned out okay. But if I was the one to talk about it? A female driver talking about how she cares that her colleagues and her have a good relation and that they don't hate eachother like the press wants people to believe?", you scoffed, "That's not on my books, that's not something I can consider.

"And I don't hate you, George. For Goodness' sake, I came here to see of you were alright. Any other person would've yelled that you ruined their race, but I understand that there are things we can't control and shit like this happens. It sucks, but that's how it is. Like Charles says all the time, 'sometimes it's like this'", you giggled, "I actually think you're a pretty decent guy", you blushed.

Over the years, the bickering had only spurred you on even more, and maybe it wasn't just the thrill of seeing him so on edge that made you continue to do so.

"So you're saying you've never hated me?",

George said as he offered you his chair to sit down as he prepared tea for both of you, "Maybe I didn't like you so much when we did karting, but that was just because you were really tall and actually gave me fair competition", you winked.

[rayventoodles]

i said it once and i'll say it again, the first season of the tokyo ghoul anime is just fine if you completely remove it from the manga and look at it as its own thing. kaneki does still come off as this standard shonen protagonist (i think Pierrot forgot it was supposed to be seinen), the action is still enjoyable for the most part.

as for Root A, as awful as that shitshow was, still had a few moments that again, in a vacuum, were kinda okay. for example, i forgot which episode but the moment where ayato sees shinohara welding arata. that could've been GREAT if there were proper foreshowing and buildup to it (which something that the anime lacks). i also appreciate that it took its time to slow down and breathe at times, like when the snow begins to fall and we see everyone's reaction. i will admit that i kinda liked that after a long day at anteiku, roma proudly boasts to nishiki that she only managed to break two plates that day.

i think that sums up why Root A fell so flat. it just feels like multiple character-based episodes awkwardly stitched together. i will admit i cried during the last episode, not because of what was happening, but because of the song that was playing, but that's probably just the autism speaking

as for re, well, saiko is the only redeeming quality. she literally STOLE every scene she was in lmao

tl;dr the tokyo ghoul anime kinda sucks and i'm still holding on to the vauge hope that one day we'll get a proper adaptation, but if there's one thing that this month and the pandemic has taught me, it's to never get your hopes up for anything, ever.

fun fact: my coping mechanism for watching a bad piece of media is to not take it seriously. the whole time i could only imagine the characters spouting dialogue from the ghost stories english dub (which Pierrot also produced, they're also partially responsible for how the dub turned out) also the noises kaneki made whenever he was getting his shit kicked in was and Austin Tindle's annunciation made things unintentionally funny at times

not to say that he's a bad voice actor but i couldn't watch it properly because of the time i said something really cringy to him at a convention once hehehehehehe

[weepylucifer]

okay here it is. i hinted at this one time in the tags of some reblog that probably no one noticed. but trust it has been on my mind. my AU with force-sensitive clones

so the kaminoans would probably want very hard to have everyone believe that clones can never have the force, and that is what they do tell everyone. bc they love to pretend that clones are little more than very adaptable flesh droids, and force sensitivity is a benchmark of sentience, and with the way the jedi make such a huge fuss abt it, they know that if they found clones to be strong in the force, they would get difficult about it and perhaps even about the whole war. so they spread the word around that clones cannot be force-sensitive at all ever, and most clones probably don't have any reason to question this

of course there are outliers bc clearly clones are people and can have the force like anyone else. we all know about clone trooper glitch. (in my opinion someone should also find a force-sensitive droid somewhere and let's see what happens THEN). but they'd be weeded out by the kaminoans before they can do anything with their abilities, and so word gets around the GAR that if you are the kind of trooper who makes things float sometimes, keep that shit to yourself or else. but most clones who are not strong in the force and don't have any brothers around them who are would likely never even consider this

okay this is our set-up

our focal character will be cody bc he's my favorite. i think if cody had the force he wouldn't notice. i love him but he's not the QUICKEST of all clones at questioning what the people in charge tell him. so he just wouldn't think about it. maybe obi-wan catches glimpses of something going on but, you know, these guys have SO much on their plates, they are fighting a war here. plus obi-wan might just go "of course i feel like cody's special somehow. it's attraction" and just brush it off as symptoms of codywan. maybe he considers looking into it but he never gets the time and then order 66 happens

so the force and the evil mind control chip do violent battle in cody's brain and he manages to snap out of it, but unfortunately too late. they've already shot obi-wan off the cliff, and cody has reason to assume he's dead now. everywhere jedi are dying. you know the drill

desperately, cody, for the first time in his life and purely on instinct, reaches into the force to somehow make things right. more than half mad with terror, as he is overpowered the way he's never been before by grief and rage and fear and suffering and horror and rage and guilt and rage and rage and rage, what he connects with, completely by accident, is actually, you guessed it, the dark side

the shit show began years ago when the clone war started, or perhaps the shitshow began even earlier, when sidious fell. but here is where the shitshow continues

[cloudinterlude]

what misconception? 👀

I assume this is about the Civil War post I made and oh boy, so many. So, so many. Let me preface this by saying I actually like Civil War enough as a movie. Not as a Captain America movie, but it's engaging and I enjoyed it for the most part. I mostly dislike the dogshit opinions about it. To prevent this from turning into a dissertation, I'll just list the ones that come to mind first/irritate me the most:

"Steve was completely against regulation and oversight" WRONG. He was against the vagueness of it all. He explicitly says that he wants to know whose going to be holding his leash if he has to have one. In fact, he was about to sign the Accords before Tony told him about them preemptively enforcing it and detaining Wanda. Steve was willing to consider the Accords, Steve was trying to discuss the Accords, Steve was on the path to being open to the Accords before the moral failings of it were already shining through. Steve, rightfully so, is distrustful at this point of anonymous authority. Following the news that Hydra had their nasty paws in SHIELD and other high positions in government, Steve decides that he wants to know more about the people who have authority over him. Seems reasonable enough.

"Steve was only against the Accords for Bucky" WRONG. 1) Before he was certain that Bucky was being framed, he says that he has the best chance of bringing him in to minimize damage. Then, when he was certain Bucky was innocent, it became a matter of not letting his bestie be falsely imprisoned and/or killed on the spot. 2) Lemme just add that yes, Bucky is extremely important to Steve, but Steve would have still been against the Accords if Bucky wasn't a factor. I need people to understand this. It wasn't just a "oh no I need to save my best friend". 3) If you read what was in the Accords, you'd understand why Steve would generally be against them. They're abhorrent.

"Steve didn't read the Accords/Steve didn't even attempt to communicate or compromise." I haaaaattttteeee this one with a burning passion. Did we watch the same movie? He's quite literally the only one on screen we see even look at that long ass document. Probably also the only one would could even manage to read the thing since it was sprung up on them 3 days before the meeting (which is a whole 'nother issue for later. For now, I'll just say I support the Ross conspiracy theory). He also tried to tell Tony & Co. before the airport fight that Zemo was the one behind all this conflict, that Bucky is innocent and about the 5 other ultra-dangerous super-soldiers who, as far as he knew, were about to be unleashed onto the world which would be disastrous. Unfortunately, Team IM was wracked with tension and didn't listen and attacked.

"Steve and Bucky jumped Tony (+ variants of this statement)." This is one that confused me so much. Such a bullshit take. I am begging people to rewatch CW and watch the fight. Tony, whose emotions is dialed to a thousand (and not only because of the Bucky thing mind you, but I can talk about that a lot more later because I like talking about Tony's emotional/mental state during Civil War) attacked first, then tries to kill Bucky, Steve tries to get Tony to stop killing Bucky, Tony is trying not to kill Steve, Bucky is trying to get Tony not to kill Steve or him. It's a mess. Mind you, Steve isn't even trying to excessively harm Tony in this scene. It's confirmed that during the entire fight, he was trying to disable the suit. Not trying to beat Tony to a pulp - DISABLE. THE. SUIT. Which he manage to do in the midst of that shitshow.

"*insert any anti-CW Wanda take*" Please, someone please tell me why people think Wanda has any blame for what happened Lagos? Wanda quite literally didn't CAUSE that. I need to understand this point of view before I get an aneurysm. She didn't make the bomb, bring the bomb, set the bomb off. It was Rumlow who had that bomb that would have ended up killing way more people on the ground than where Wanda managed to put it. She absolutely was as much of a hero as she could be in that instance, trying to redirect the bomb away from civilians. Unfortunately, it still ended it casualties, but a lot less than it would have been if Wanda hadn't intervened.

I could go on and on, but I'll stop here. Fanon CACW quite literally has some of the worst fan comprehension I've seen in the MCU. I imagine that a lot of it is not understanding characters, the movie not elaborating on important plot points in an effort to make it 50/50 (which they failed at lol), and the fandom being a lot more conservative than I thought. I can expand further on anything if you want!

[bubblesreplies]

The Middle

Max Brinly X Female Reader

Oneshot

APPARENTLY IF YOU’RE READING THIS IN ANY DARK COLORED FORMAT ON TUMBLR (LIKE NIGHT MODE) IT LOOKS FUCKING WEIRD AND IDK HOW TO FIX IT I’M SO SORRY.

A/N: No, I'm not neglecting my other fics to write a random oneshot? Why would you even suggest---fuck it here it is besties. Anyways, this product of procrastination is dedicated and written for my bestie @house-of-kolchek, who loves Max as much as I do.

WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW 18+ ONLY, this is unedited and might be awful, Reader is Jacob's cousin, manipulative!Emma but like in a good way, BFF!Emma, Emma/Jacob, Abi/Nick, making Emma cooler than she is, sweetheart!Max, unrequited love (assumably), forced proximity, sex jokes, unsafe seating situations while driving DO NOT DO THIS PLEASE, lap-sitting, erections, staring down your shirt, teasing, love confessions, very very cheesy and idc anymore

Word Count: 8k

Main Masterlist

“EMMA, that is the stupidest idea in seriously the entire world.”

You meant it, too; you already thought that this little impromptu camping trip was an awful idea; the last time that the group of you were out in the woods, it ended with werewolves, so, could anybody really be blamed for not wanting to tempt fate? And now hearing Emma’s latest plan, you couldn’t help but say fuck this whole entire trip and its mom, too. 

“Oh—come on!” Emma insisted with a pout across her face, leaning across her oversized suitcase—who in the world needed all of that space for a weekend camping trip? “Babes, you are my wing-woman here—my ultimate girl. Come on, please—Jacob won’t even look at me when we hang out. I really need your help with this!”

You sighed; a year ago, when the ten of you—eight, if you considered the fact that you hadn’t actually met two of the camp counselors until the end of the summer—worked at Hackett’s Quarry and endured that shitshow of a summer, you hadn’t even liked Emma. You didn’t like how she had your cousin, Jacob, mooning all over her like she owned the whole fucking Earth. You didn’t like the way that the nicest girl you’d ever met seemed to think she walked on water, too, and you did not appreciate the fact that she thought she was entitled to tell you all the ways that you were doing your makeup all wrong. 

But then, that night happened. The night of the full moon, when your idiot cousin sabotaged the van just to get another night with the woman he’d fallen in love with who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him. The night where the ten of you had miraculously survived werewolves, and a crazy-ass family trying to kill you all night. That night was what changed everything. 

You’d gotten stranded with Emma running through the woods, and somehow landed yourself in a heated battle with Jacob—who had apparently been bitten by one of those things because he was now one of those things. He, obviously, tried to kill the two of you and Emma thought fast, using a piece of silver jewelry to save both of your lives and buy you enough time to get the hell out of there. 

And then, you’d been locked in a room with her and Abi, the three of you not knowing if you would survive the night, and something just…changed. You began to see her differently, and from that point on, throughout this entire past year, the three of you had been best friends. 

More you and Emma, if you were being honest, because Abi and Nick had just gotten engaged three months ago and most of her free time went to him.

Not that it hurt your feelings. If you somehow managed to bag the man of your dreams, you’d be spending every free moment with him, too. 

“Jacob just…needs time,” you informed her with a groan, throwing your tennis shoes across the room as you frantically looked for your favorite pair of leggings. “He’s still hurt, you know? You can’t just tell him you didn’t mean any of it and then expect him to forgive you and jump back into your arms, Emma.”

“Which is why I need you to get me into his cabin this weekend,” Emma pleaded, getting up from her place on your bed and digging through your drawers as she pulled out the very clothes you were looking for. You swore that sometimes, it was literally like she could read your mind. “All we have to do is fake a fight; I will refuse to sleep in the same cabin as you, and then the boys will offer to switch with us. I’ll get a whole night—and a whole, isolated cabin—with Jacob; and you? Well, let’s not pretend that you aren’t benefitting from my little plan.”

You snorted, shimmying out of your jeans and pulling your leggings up over your legs, smiling as Emma nodded towards your ass in approval. If she thought that you looked good, you could rest assured that you damn well did.

“And how will I benefit from getting into a fake fight with you and causing a scene?” You questioned, your head cocked as Emma passed you your shoes and you eagerly slipped them on. The rest of your group would be here at any minute, and you didn’t want to keep them waiting. 

“Because if I end up in Jacob’s cabin, you know who ends up in yours? Max.”

You whipped around and shot Emma a glare, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe that she would just mention his name all casually like that. You’d made her swear to never bring up your pathetic, unrequited crush on Max Brinly ever again, since the day she’d first found out that it even existed in the first place. 

You first met Max when the sun came up after that hellish night at Hackett’s Quarry. You and Emma had run back to the island to see if Jacob was there and if he was alive, and you ended up running into Max instead. After lots of screaming and confusion, the two of you finally allowed him to explain just how in the fuck he had gotten there and who he was, which is when you learned that your one night of hell had lasted two months for him and his girlfriend. 

Emma had found Jacob and ran after him, but you stayed behind with Max, talking and laughing at his jokes, attempting not to swoon at the adorableness that was his laugh. You had hoped, at the beginning of the summer, to find somebody just like him and have a summer romance. Somebody who was cute, who could make you laugh, and seemed to understand you instantly.

It didn’t work out that way, obviously—seeing as the summer had been over and Max Brinly had a girlfriend. 

Laura eventually came back for him and you parted ways, assuming that this would be the last time that you would ever see Max Brinly, attributing your budding feelings for him as some sort of trauma response to the night that you had just been through. 

Imagine your surprise when, a month after Hackett’s Quarry, the new co-worker that you were assigned to train at the coffee shop was none other than Max Brinly. You assumed right away that he wouldn’t even remember you—why would he?---but you were wrong. He knew exactly and immediately who you were, and the two of you hit it off just as well as you did the first time you had ever spoken to him. It wasn’t long before you were hanging out with him every single day, and he had slowly become your best friend. 

You went to movies together, you got dinner, he came to all of the track and field competitions you ran in at your local university, you helped him study hard enough to get into a new graduate school—literally, anything that you could think of, the two of you did it together.  You even stayed the night at each other’s apartments on occasion, both of you knowing what the other’s couch felt like pretty intimately. 

In fact, the only time the two of you weren’t together was when Laura came to town to visit her boyfriend. Before she dumped him, at least.

It was nearly a month and a half ago now, that you had sat on this very bed with Max as he sobbed, asking you just to hold him and not ask any questions when he told you that he and Laura had broken up. 

“Max isn’t into me, so that really doesn’t help your case,” you grumbled, your pissy mood only continuing to sour the more that you thought about it. After Max and Laura, you thought that you might actually stand a chance with him. After all, he spent all of his free time with you, and you knew that nobody in this world knew him as well as you did—and vice versa. But after the night that he’d sobbed with you, fallen asleep in your bed, and told you how he felt like years of his life were wasted with Laura, nothing ever happened. 

He just went right on back to being the same old Max, your friend.

“Do you seriously still think that that boy has no feelings for you whatsoever?” Emma shrieked, watching as Jacob’s car pulled up from the window, hurriedly throwing her hair up into a sexily-tossed messy bun. “‘Cause, if you do, you’re so wrong that it isn’t even funny anymore.”

“Em, if he had feelings for me, then why didn’t anything change after he and Laura broke up?!” You interjected, a frown pulling at your lips as you grabbed your tiny duffel bag and hiked it up over your shoulder. “And also, why would he date Laura for so long if he actually, secretly liked me instead? Your logic isn’t logic-ing,” you insisted, and Emma smirked.

“You are so naive that it’s actually kind of cute,” she responded, rolling her eyes as Jacob opted to honk instead of being a gentleman and coming to the door. Emma sauntered over to you, playing with the ends of your hoodie and eyeing it suspiciously. “Look, just—help me with this plan, and you’ll see, okay? And change into that sexy little top I bought you last month for the car ride.”

“Emma!”

“Just trust me!” Emma insisted, pulling the hoodie up and over your head for you and tossing you the lacey black crop top she’d bought you last month. “Put it on—good, yes, I would so bang you—oh, and just in case you find out that Max also wants to bang you, I snuck condoms into your bag.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Emma!” You shrieked, although it was with a large smile on your face as you were, once again, blown away by the antics of your friend. 

Emma only laughed as the two of you rushed down to the car, you having to help Emma with one half of her bag since she’d brought such a gigantic one. You’d barely made it to the door before there was a knock on it—apparently Jacob had decided to be a gentleman after all. Or he’d simply gotten impatient, which was the better bet of the two options.

“Keep your pants on cuz, we’re coming,” you hissed out, lowering your end of Emma’s bag to the ground as you ripped open the door to your apartment. Your annoyed glare dropped and your mouth fell open as you saw Max standing there, his cheeks red and running a hand through his freshly-cut red hair. “Max! I, uh, thought you were Jacob?”

Fuck, why did you sound so fucking awkward?! Your conversation with Emma had you paranoid and upset, and if you kept acting this way, Max would definitely notice. The two of you had crossed the awkward barrier a long time ago.

“Ah, nah,” Max answered, his signature smile flashing across his face and warming you up from the inside out. “Jake’s too possessive over that steering wheel to get his ass over to the door honestly.”

“That and he doesn’t want to have to speak to me,” Emma sighed, lugging her bag forward and hitting Max in the chest with it. You suppressed a giggle as he let out an “Oomph!”, but he caught your smile and playfully sneered at you. “Oh, what a gentleman! And damn, Max, I’ve never noticed how strong you are. Have you, Y/n?! Have you ever noticed those biceps?” 

“Cut it out, Emma,” you hissed under your breath, grateful that Max had already turned around and was heaving her oversized bag to the trunk of the car. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work on me.”

“What am I doing?” Emma asked with faux innocence, batting her eyelashes heavily down at you before she winked. “Just use it as fuel for our fake fire, if you want, babes. Besides—would it really kill you to admit in front of him that he looks good?! Give the boy a win, Y/n!”

“He does not think of me that way—”

“Hey, um, Emma?” Max called out as you were locking your front door behind you, and you turned and ran over to where he was pursing his lips behind the trunk. “Maybe we should’ve brought a bigger car, but, your bag is not going to fit back here.”

Emma turned to look and her lips, too, were pursed. 

“Well, where’s everyone sitting?” She asked, peering her head into the car to check out the situation. 

“Well, uh, Jacob’s driving—obviously—Abi and Nick are in the row of two seats behind him, and then he wants you to sit back in the last row with me while Y/n takes the passenger seat,” Max explained, using his hands to gesture to each person. Abi turned around to look at you from her place in the car, Nick’s head in her lap as he slept, and she waved. You waved back, grimacing at the large bag that was seated at your feet. 

“Hmm, no, that won’t do,” Emma insisted with a wave of her hand, using all of her strength to heave her bag up and over the full trunk of the car and into the last row of seats. “It’s going to have to go here—and oh, I really didn’t sleep well last night, so if I don’t sit in the passenger seat, I’ll get sick.” 

Max’s jaw dropped and he scoffed lightly, looking between the two of you as you held in a large groan. 

“I don’t really see how that makes any sense?” He questioned.

“So Y/n will have to sit in the back, with you!” Emma finished with a gleeful squeal, hurrying to shut the trunk and turning to make her way to the passenger seat of the car. 

“Um—hold on a minute, just where the fuck in the back will I sit?!” You barked out, gesturing incredulously to the monstrosity that was her luggage all over the back seat of the car. “Your bag is taking up the entire row—all but one seat, Em! And it’s way too fucking big to go down at our feet!” 

Emma put a daintly little finger to her chin, and you could tell that she was only pretending to think about the predicament.

“Well, it’s only about a forty-five minute drive,” she informed you, a wicked smile pushing its way onto her lips. “It’s not that long, so, just sit on Max’s lap?”

Your eyes widened and you felt sweat beading on the back of your neck, your heart beating at an intensely quick pace just at the mere thought of having to sit on Max. One look at Max’s face showed he heard her suggestion, too, because it was unnaturally blank and pale. 

You walked closer to Emma, pulling her into you as you said, “You better be fucking for real with your next suggestion, or we will get in an actual fight, Emma,” you warned her, your voice low enough that Max couldn’t hear it. You noticed that he was already ushering Nick and Abi out of the car, hurrying to his seat in the back, and the three of them were just waiting on you. 

“Oh my g—will you just trust me, for once in your life?!” Emma begged dramatically, clinging onto your arm and giving you a little push towards Max. “Thank me later, hoe.”

Oh no, I will not be thanking you later, you sneaky little she-devil, you thought to yourself, climbing over Abi’s seat and landing ungracefully into Max’s lap. He caught you much more elegantly than you fell, luckily, and he helped you right yourself so that your back was facing his chest. 

You turned your face towards him despite the fact that it was burning, and you brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear. 

“You know, I could always just sit on her bag instead of on you,” you offered, geturing weakly over to the big problem that Emma had handed over to the two of you with a private sneer at her back. “That way I won’t crush your legs into tiny pieces of ash.”

Max actually laughed out loud at that and your heart swelled with a feeling of accomplishment; Max was funny, he had probably always been funny, and anytime that you had gotten him to laugh, you took it as a personal achievement. 

“Please sweetheart, as if you could,” Max retorted, winding an arm around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his chest, leaving his arm to rest across your stomach and his fingers splayed across your hipbone. You closed your eyes, holding in a sigh as you prayed that he couldn’t see the way that your face had reddened from this angle. “Besides, this is probably the…safer option of the two.”

You heartily disagreed with that. 

Still, you positioned yourself against him, awkwardly playing with your fingers on your lap as you had no idea where to rest your hands. You and Max were close, yes, but you had never physically been close, aside from a few silly moments of teasing tickles, accidentally falling asleep on his shoulder, or him resting his legs on your lap as the two of you watched a movie together. This was entirely new territory, and you had no idea what to do with it, and you knew that if Emma hadn’t forced this to happen, that Max wouldn’t have chosen to even be in this situation with you. Probably. 

“Jacob, the drive is forty-five minutes?” You called up to him, wincing as you watched your cousin’s teeth grit in the rearview mirror as he attempted to ignore Emma completely.

“An hour, if traffic’s bad,” Jacob called back and you groaned, your leg shaking furiously in your nervousness. As if Max could sense that you were on edge—fuck, with the way that you were bouncing around he probably could feel it—his other hand landed on your thigh, rubbing calming circles around as he successfully got it to stop shaking.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so anxious today,” you sighed, rubbing a hand down your face and leaning back into Max. You could hear his groan and you winced, assuming you had hurt him, as you instantly tried to reposition yourself to take some of the weight off of him.

After a few minutes of frantic wiggling, Max’s hands harshly gripped onto your waist, his fingernails digging into you as he held you tightly into place and you froze, your eyes wide and breath held. 

“Y/n, please—stop.” Max’s voice was incredibly hoarse, coming out in a groan and you winced again, mortified that you had hurt him enough to elicit this sort of response. 

“Oh shit, Max! I am so sorry—I was trying not to hurt you and then I did hurt you and—”

“Y/n!” Max interrupted, clearing his throat so that his voice sounded a lot more normal and less husky. “Honey, you’re not hurting me, just—don’t wiggle around right—there.”

Your eyebrows raised in confusion at his words and your brain couldn’t process what the hell he was saying, so you just opted to nod, leaning forward as far as you could and beginning a conversation with Abi as you tried with every ounce of your being to not put much weight on Max. It took every ounce of concentration that you had to not think about the fact that you were touching the love of your life and focus on Abi’s words about wedding planning, but somehow, you did it. 

“Hey, uh, Jake?” Max suddenly called out, and you noticed that his voice had gone hoarse again and that his tone was tight and clipped. Higher than normal. You frowned; in your conversation with Abi, you had slipped a little further backwards than you’d realized, back into his lap. “How much longer?”

“Thirty minutes,” Jacob growled, and you noticed Emma looking a little offput herself. “It’s looking closer to an hour total at this point.”

“Alright then, we need to stop,” Max insisted and you stifled a pathetic whine, embarrassed that you were this hard to bear just sitting on his lap. It probably didn’t help that you were still actively avoiding any and all contact with him, practically leaving him here in the backseat to talk to himself as you ignored him, anxious and letting Emma’s words get to your head.

You needed to stop. You and Max were friends. Good friends, and you were being absolutely ridiculous about this whole thing. 

Three minutes later, Jacob pulled off at a reststop and you lifted off of Max instantly, watching him scamper out of the car after Abi and Nick and hurrying into the men’s restroom. With everyone out of the car but you and Emma, you climbed over the seats and sat between her seat and the driver’s seat, staring at her with wide eyes.

“So,” you started out, pointedly ignoring the tears in her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it right now. “Your plan to make me sit on Max is not working; I can barely say two words to the guy, and his poor legs are getting crushed by me. He probably can’t think of anything but leg cramps!” 

“Oh, please,” Emma scoffed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissued and waving your worries away with a flick of her hand. “Look at him, and look at you; there must be some other reason he needs a break.”

“Oh yeah?” You fought back, crossing your arms over your chest as you frowned at your friend. “Like what, exactly? It’s not working Emma, you’re miserable up here, and I am back there; we should just switch places. You’re smaller than me.”

“I am not,” Emma sighed.

“All I know is one minute, I can’t sit still, and the next minute, he’s grabbing my hips and telling me to stop wiggling around,” you continued on, as if Emma hadn’t even interjected. “What else could it be if not that I was—”

You instantly stopped talking as Emma looked over to you, mouth opened and eyes glinting with excitement. 

“You poor naive little thing!” She giggled, pulling your arms so that you were practically sitting on her lap. “Y/n, you aren’t hurting him—you’re turning him on and he doesn’t want you to feel it!” 

You felt pinpricks across your face as the entire thing turned white, and you were suddenly feeling a little nauseous. 

“What?” You questioned, shaking your head lutching nervously at your hair. “What? I—no, Max isn’t—he wasn’t—”

“Oh, yes, yes he was,” Emma argued, and there was a light in her eyes that replaced whatever sadness she had been feeling before you came up there to talk to her. “Okay, do exactly as I say; when Max comes back out to the car, sit back on him just like you were that first time. Wiggle around a bit again—”

“What? No!”

“Just trust me—wiggle around a little bit again, then ask him if he wants to watch something with you on your phone. When you turn it on, lean back against him so that your back is arched and he gets a good, full view down your—”

“Okay, and this is where I officially stop you, you are crazy,” you intoned, shaking your head and leaning away from your friend. “Max is not into me—in case you managed to forget about that, babes—and besides, I can’t just show him my boobs, Emma! They’re my—boobs. They’re, like, private.”

“Holy fuck, how are you not a virgin,” Emma groaned, shoving you back towards your seat as she pointed eagerly out of the car. “Okay, babes, here he comes—just trust me, okay?! Do it!” 

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the words fell from your lips as the car door opened and Max poked his head inside, grinning over at you as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Emma. 

“What, uh, what’s going on here?” He asked, and you shot a glare at Emma as she giggled, hiding her face in her shirt and sending an ominous wink your way. You tried as well as you could to tell her to shut up with your eyes, but she ignored you in typical Emma fashion. 

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head and sending him a smile. “I was just feeling nervous about getting away this weekend and Emma was talking me down. That’s it.”

“Ah,” Max yawned, heading back to his seat and patting his lap for you to join him. You blushed. “Is that why you’re acting so weird? You haven’t spoken to me for the last, like twenty-five minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry, just nervous,” you insisted, climbing back over Abi’s seat and settling yourself on top of Max’s lap. As you looked up after readjusting, your eyes met Emma’s in the rearview mirror and she nodded, looking from you to Max’s…well…yeah. 

You cleared your throat, feeling the burn of your phone in your pocket as you stared widely back at her, conveying that she was being way too obvious, here. Regardless, a part of you was…curious, now, and with Laura out of the picture and Max completely single, it’s not like a little testing of the waters was inappropriate anymore. What could it hurt, really? Max was too nice to reject you, so if he wasn’t into it, he just wouldn’t say anything and you’d let it go forever. But, if he really was into it—

Well that was the best-case scenario, wasn’t it?

So, you shifted; nothing crazy and nowhere close to grinding—just a small, flick of the hips that brushed right up against his crotch. Max’s breath hitched and you froze, wondering if you’d truly heard that right, completely distracted from the fact that Abi and Nick were re-entering the car and that Jacob was starting it again, getting ready to head on the road once more. 

A hitch of a breath wasn’t enough of a confirmation for you, so you shifted once again, and then again and then again, and this time Max’s hands lifted back up to your hips, grasping for dear life as you settled your ass back down to his crotch, turning your head to watch as his eyes shut tight and he bit his lip.

“Y/n—”

“Do you want to watch part of a movie with me?” You interrupted, watching as Max’s eyes flashed open, a glint of pain underneath them that had you second-guessing what had just happened. Max smiled down at you, though—that brilliant smile that God had blessed him with—and nodded.

You had no idea what you were going to watch, but your fingers worked anyway, hurriedly typing some stupid TikTok compilation that you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted by. Max laid his chin on your shoulder, his hands that were gripping your waist winding around your front and interlocking as he held you, his face snuggling slightly into your neck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, your mind reiterated as you slowly breathed out, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you silently prayed that Max couldn’t hear it, and that he couldn’t feel the way that your skin had suddenly heated up and become sweaty. It wasn’t even that cuddling with Max was anything new—as a person, he was a fucking lapdog—but it was the fact that you had never sat on his fucking lap before while cuddling. Never had intentions to turn him on, never gave him this much of a glance down your lowcut shirt—

Y/n, don’t be a pussy, your inner Emma chastised and you shut your eyes tight and sucked in a breath, desperately trying to convince yourself not to go through with this. But damn it—you sort of wanted to and, so far, Max hadn’t shown a single sign that he’d wanted you to sit anywhere else. 

It was halfway through the video that you forgot the rest of the people in the car and arched backward without a minute to second guess yourself, pretending to stretch your arms above your head as you knew you were, successfully, letting Max have a perfect show of your black lacy bra underneath your shirt, and under that, the perfectly rounded mounds of breasts that it pushed up.

You heard a sharp inhale and dared a look at his face; he was as white as a ghost, and even his perfectly placed freckles had gone impossibly paler—and yet his eyes, those gorgeously sea-colored orbs, were still staring down your shirt, transfixed, as he studied your figure. 

“Alright, everybody out!” Jacob suddenly called out, and the two of you jumped, Max’s eyes meeting yours as he was brought back to reality. His eyes, no longer clouded over with lust, widened and a blush spread unevenly across his face as he realized that he’d been caught watching you. “We’re here!”

“Y/n,” Max breathed out, whipping his arms away from you and running nervous hands through his newly cut hair. “Shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry, I—I wasn’t—I mean I was but…” You smiled as he stuttered along, a giggle framing your mouth and escaping out of your lip, causing Max’s gaze to whip back onto you. You couldn’t help it; he was always so damn cute when he was flustered.

“Does it make it any less creepy if I’m aware that staring down your shirt is creepy?” Max asked, equal parts timid and teasing. You laughed aloud at that, the two of you lingering in the backseat of the car while the rest of the party headed out. 

“It’s fine, Max,” you insisted with a shrug and a wink, conveying in every way possible that you weren’t completely innocent here either. “No one wears a bra like this for it not to be seen, sweetheart.” 

The words coming out of your mouth shocked even you, and Max’s entire jaw fell open as he stared at you in complete and utter disbelief. 

“Whoa, Y/n,” he reared away from you, just to get a better look at your face, testing to see if you were saying what he thought that you were saying. His hands found their way to your waist again and he touched you softly, his thumbs running up and down the curves of your hipbones as he stared in wonder down at you. “Are you saying that you wanted me to—”

“Are you two gonna get out of the car, or do you plan on freezing your little asses off all night?!” Jacob called out as he forced open the trunk of the car, staring in disbelief at the two of you still sitting there. You both jumped, eyes turning to Jacob with guilty blushes, and you didn’t waste another second climbing off of Max and over the seats, pushing your way past Jacob and onto the dirt-clodded driveway. 

Taking your bag from your cousin and asking a hurried, “Where’s our cabin again?” You received directions and hurried off in the direction of the cabin that you and Emma were supposed to share, attempting to outrun Max so that he couldn’t question you any further.

What the hell had you been thinking?! You hadn’t, obviously, and you’d let Emma’s skewed opinion get to you. Now, you had to come up with a solution for some serious damage control before Max got to you with his, What’s gotten into you today? And his, Look, I know you must have been kidding, or his I’m sorry Y/n, I’m just not attracted to you that way—

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, throwing open the door to the cabin and chucking your suitcase onto the empty bed. Emma was standing on the other side of the room, facing the bathrooms, but she jumped and turned around when she heard the slam of the front door. “Fuck this whole plan, Emma, and fuck my stupid self too. I can’t believe that I actually let myself believe that Max was really into me and I—holy shit, are you crying?!?”

Emma’s pretty hazel eyes were red-rimmed, but the telltale giveaway that she’d been sobbing was the tear tracks of black mascara spreading down her cheeks and clumping up near her pointy chin.

Once her mind had registered your question, she began sobbing once again, her hands coming up to cover her eyes and you ran to her, throwing your arms around her neck and feeling her own arms go around your waist as she sobbed into your neck heartily. 

“Honey, what happened?” You asked, but your voice was muffled by your much taller friend’s collarbone. You pulled away from her and sat her down on her bed, sitting down next to her and taking her hand in yours. “Emma, what did my idiot cousin say to you? You know that big dummy acts completely on emotions, so whatever he said, I’m sure it was just in the heat of the—”

“He meant it,” Emma interrupted you, pulling her hand out of yours and using it to wipe her eyes. “But I don’t even want to talk about it right now, so—tell me what happened with Max.” You opened your mouth to protest but she shot you her “Emma” look—the look that told you that arguing would quite literally be pointless. So, you sighed, letting yourself fall backward onto the bed and groaning as your head hit the awfully lumpy mattress she’d been provided tonight.

“I don’t know what happened, Emma,” you admitted with a whine, feeling her lay down beside you and cuddle her head into yours comfortingly. “It was like I had this sudden, insane boost of confidence and I was like…grinding on him and giving him a full show of my boobs—”

“You do have great boobs—”

“And then when he noticed that I caught him staring at my breasts, I kindofsortofmaybe insinuated that I wanted him to look down my shirt and then he was about to ask me if I really meant that I wanted him to see me naked and then Jacob interrupted us and I freaked out and ran away.”

Emma just stared back at you, blinking occasionally, as if she were really confused.

“Why?” She finally asked, staring down at you in confusion. You blinked back at her, shaking your head bewilderedly. 

“Wait, why what?”

“Why did you run away, you fucking dumbass!” Emma insulted, but it was loving and the two of you laughed as she pushed you off the bed and you squealed. “Seriously, Y/n, what the fuck? You ran away? After doing all of that you just ran?”

“I was scared!” You defend your actions with a hiss, pulling yourself up off of the floor and planting down next to her again. “Fuck, Emma, Max is my best friend. I cannot risk freaking him out and losing him, okay? I just…can’t, okay, he means…he means everything to me, Emma, he’s the most important person in the whole world. He’s my best friend.”

“Ouch,” Emma responded, but there was a fond smile on her face and a happy gleam in her eyes as she gazed down at you. “Babes, you know that you’re the most important thing in the world to him too, right? Even if he didn’t feel the same way about you, he wouldn’t let this ruin your friendship. You know that, right?” 

You shrugged and looked away from her, playing with your hands as you avoided the question. Did you know that? No, not really. Yeah, the two of you were really close, and yeah, he spent most of his free time with you, but that didn’t mean that this wasn’t something that would freak him out enough to ghost you.

“Shit, if I was going to do something as fucking ridiculous as this, I should have just bit the and told him how I felt,” you finally responded with a sigh, pushing yourself off of the bed and shuffling your feet over the cold, hardwood floor. “But you know, maybe this way, there’s some way that I can play it off?”

“Okay babes, I’m just going to say this once and I’m going to say it outright,” Emma cut you off, standing in front of you and forcing your chin up to look your much taller friend in the eyes. “I know why they broke up, Y/n. The real reason, and if you just fucking ask me I will tell you right here, right now.”

The offer was, obviously, tempting; and two or three years ago you’d probably be a lesser person and taken that offer. As it was, though, you valued Max and his privacy, and if he’d wanted you to know, he would have told you himself. 

“No, I don’t want to know,” you insisted, pursing your lips and pulling away from Emma. “It isn’t any of my business, and Max made that abundantly clear by not telling me inthe first place.”

“Of fucking course,” Emma groaned with a shake of her head, rolling her eyes at you and then fixing you with a glare. “The two of you are both so stupid.”

“Gee, thanks Em.” Your words fell flat as you shot her your own sharp look and she gulped, having the common decency to at least look like she felt bad for saying what she did. “Besides, why do you even know the reason Laura dumped him?”

“Laura didn’t dump Max—Max dumped Laura,” Emma clarified and your heart dropped into your stomach. The piece of news, realistically, probably should have made you feel better, but it didn’t. It only made you feel worse, like your heart had been stomped on and used up. Because—if that was true—if Max had dumped Laura—then why had he been so upset that night when he came over to your house? And why the fuck had he lied to you about it?

“What?” You asked, your voice tiny and fragile, and Emma looked back at you, confused. 

“Max broke up with Laura,” Emma repeated, and was somehow completely missing the broken, wounded look that was written all over your face. “He dumped her, because he wasn’t in love with her, Y/n, he realized that he was—”

“Emma.” 

Jacob’s voice pierced through the air, and the two of you jumped towards the sound, to where your cousin was currently glaring daggers towards your best friend. Emma immediately shut up, shooting you a guilty look as she moved farther away from you and towards Jacob. 

“Y/n, can you please give us a moment?” Jacob asked, his throat froggy and having to clear it as he continued staring at Emma. When you saw the raw, heated look pass between them you excused yourself quickly, knowing that whatever feud they were having was about to be made up in tenfold. You forgot to bring your suitcase with you—not even thinking that you’d effectively be kicked out of your cabin for the night—as you ran outside, outside to the nothingness that awaited you.

No, seriously.

There was not a soul out here, Abi and Nick notably missing and Max even nowhere to be seen—not that you even wanted to see him right now anyways. Your heart was barely beating in your chest at the revelation that he’d lied to you—you, supposedly his closest friend—about something that was so huge. Then again, maybe he had no idea how huge it was to you. He didn’t at all, actually, because he had no idea that you were so annoyingly and stupidly in love with him. 

“Fuck this day, and fuck everyone else,” you groaned to yourself as you plopped down on a metal bench under a canopy, covering your eyes with your hands as you whined. 

“That an invitation?” 

Max’s voice sent your blood running cold and you jumped, shocked, turning yourself towards him as he stood slightly behind you, watching you warily. His face was red, but he was smiling at you, and he made his way over and sat at the bench opposite you slowly. 

The two of you stared at each other for a while—one of you, optimistically nervous, and the other of you having had your heart shattered into a million little pieces just ten minutes ago. Neither of you said anything, unsure of what exactly you should say, for a long time until finally, Max broke the silence.

“Y/n,” Max spoke, clearing his throat from the nervousness that threatened to choke and overtake him. “About what you said in the car—”

“You lied to me.” 

You hadn’t intended for it to come out like that, but there it was, and there was no taking it back now. 

Max reared back, astonishment registering across his perfect features. 

“I—what?” He shook his head back and forth, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “I lied about—about the car?”

“No Max, not about the fucking car!” You swore, rising from your seat in your anger. Max followed quickly, a gentle hand on your elbow that you quickly ripped out of his grasp. “You lied to me about—about Laura! You told me that she—that she broke up with you, Max! You were heartbroken, you were crying, you lied!” 

You thought that there were tears streaming down your face but you couldn’t really tell at the moment. All you could feel was the adrenaline that was being fueled by your anger, and all you could see was the shock that hadn’t left Max’s face since you’d first spoken. 

“Who told you that?” Max questioned, and the fact that he wasn’t denying it made you even more upset and you huffed, turning around on one heel and heading towards—fuck, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

“Does it matter?” You answered, turning back around and accepting the fact that the only way you were going to get to be alone was if Max went back to his cabin and left you here and, knowing him, that wasn’t likely to happen. “You lied, Max. And I’m pissed about it. That’s the only thing that you should care about.”

You still hadn’t turned around to face him, so he made his way in front of you instead, placing tentative hands on both of your arms and levelling his face with yours. 

“Sweetheart, please look at me.” Fuck; you were weak anytime that Max called you sweetheart and you knew that he knew it, too. Hating yourself just a little bit more for it, you looked up at him, unaware of how your big, sad eyes caused every cell in his body to melt. 

“Why did you lie to me?” The question slipped through your lips without your consent and Max sighed, releasing your arms and pressing a hand into your hip so that you couldn’t get away again. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Max answered simply and you reared back, out of his touch, away from his hold, as you scoffed in response.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shrieked, pulling farther away from him and pushing your hands out in front of you to stop him when he tried to reach out for you again. “What the fuck—how the fuck would that have hurt me, Max?”

Max winced, running a nervous hand through his hair, and inspected his surroundings, as if he wished somebody else would come out any minute now. 

“Y/n, you are my best friend,” Max pleaded, and you could see the desperation in his eyes but you had no idea why he was so upset. “You know me better than anybody else in this entire world, honey, please—can you give me the benefit of the doubt on this one? Can you let me tell you when I’m ready?”

“No, Max, obviously I cannot do that because obviously it has something to do with me!” You retorted sharply, angry tears burning hot at the corners of your eyes, hotter than normal, devastated tears. “Like—what is going on, Max? I hae this feeling that everybody’s in on this secret, everybody but me—and I should know it, I should know what’s going on with you—”

“Y/n, sweetheart!” Max interrupted again, and this time, he successfully gathered your hands into his. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I lied—really I am, but—why is it so important to you?” You glared back at him, pulling your hands out of his grasp and beginning to walk away from him. “Why is it such a big deal that I didn’t tell you the whole truth?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” You screamed back at him, your body turning back around on its own accord as the screech left your mouth. You both heard the words echo against a canyon somewhere, and you blanched, unaware of what you’d actually said and the weight of them until they hit you in the chest on the reverb.

Max’s mouth had dropped open and he stepped away from you in shock, his hands coming up to frame his cheeks, never making actual physical contact with his face. He stared back at you, his eyes wide and full of wonder, as if he were seeing you for the first time, all over again. 

“You’re—” Max gulped, but he took a step closer to you, a smile adorning his freckled cheeks. “You’re in love with me? Really?”

Your heart sunk again when he spoke and you shook your head, backing away from him and pressing two fingers to the bridge of your nose as you suddenly felt an oncoming migraine. 

“I’m sorry Max,” you apologized, feeling a bout of nausea spring up in your stomach as you realized that you’d just past the point of no return. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I should have never even said anything—I should have let it go—”

“I broke up with Laura because I’m in love with you.”

The words came out quickly, like Max was afraid that if he hadn’t said them as quickly as he did that he wouldn’t say them at all. You reaction was surprisingly slow compared to everything else you’d done in haste tonight, and you dropped your hands from your face and gazed up at the man in front of you, who was staring back at you with awe. 

“W—what?”

“I love you,” Max repeated, taking another step towards you with his light, airy chuckle that you loved so damn much. “And I didn’t tell you that night I broke up with Laura because I thought that you’d think I was lying, or that you were a rebound, and you’re not, Y/n. You’re absolutely not—I’ve loved you for a long enough time that I’m a total asshole for letting it go on with Laura for as long as I did.”

“Then why—why did you—”

“I lied because I didn’t want you to think that any of this was your fault,” Max continued, and he was so close now that his arms were winding around your waist and his forehead was pressed to yours. “I just—I knew, the second I saw you again in that coffee shop, that it was fate. And I lied to myself, hoping that my relationship would just fizzle out on its own and that I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone but—fuck, I would break Laura’s heart a thousand times over if it meant that I might get to be with you in the end,” Max finished, and you were stunned silent, unaware of how to speak anymore. 

“Do I—” Max took a sharp inhale of breath and a step back to assess your face. “Do I get you in the end?”

You smiled back at him before pressing your lips so tightly to his, wrapping your body so hard around his own, that the two of you could barely breathe in anything that wasn’t lingering on each other’s bodies. 

“You had me,” you answered in between breathless kisses, in between promises, in between hopeful smiles. “You had me at the beginning.”

if you liked this cheesy shit, check out my multichapters!

if you'd like to join any of my taglists, dm me!

FOREVER TAGLIST:

@house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

[nozunhinged]

Only friends seriously managed to destroy the whole show with this shitshow of a final episode. What the fuck was that. I've never skipped that many scenes. Also why the FUCK did they dump EVERYTHING on Boston!!!!!

Why is he painted as the bad guy who makes all the bad choices? Why didn't they make him talk to Nick about his polyamory when he tells Boeing they talked about it? Why do they make him out to be a liar when he's clearly thinking Nick understood who he is? Why is mew in the position to act like he's the better person? Why is he telling Boston he's running away from his problems when he is literally right there, owning up to his mistakes??????

Also no Boston, you're not an asshole. Your friends are. Looking like they're the "better" people because they "forgive" Boston. Fuck that.

And nick basically saying he wasted his time on Boston???

Is Boston supposed to represent all the wrong choices and mew all the right ones??? Is that what you want to tell me with this?????? Come on. Do better.

No apology for Boston. NOTHING.

Instead we get "I wish you the best of luck in your efforts to improve yourself" SERIOUSLY??? FUCK YOU MEW. JUST FUCK OFF.

And TopMew are seriously supposed the be the happy couple now???? Their sex scene was fucking cringe. And the fire alarm bullshit as well.

Just WHY! I'm so heartbroken, disappointed and sad. Any other ending could've been better than this fuckfest.

I hate the whole show now. Well done. Not even Mix as a final surprise saved anything. Fuck this show.

[thedreadvampy]

I'm going insane my notes are full of people responding to the communes post going like "this is why we need a state to prevent abuse"

HOW'S THAT STATE-PREVENTING-ABUSE THING GOING? PRETTY GREAT I DON'T THINK.

seriously this is what gets my fucking back up about people in opposition to anti-statism or anti-carceralism they're always like 'oh can you propose a way to 100% prevent abuse or violence' and it's like. Insert I, Robot gif here. Can you?

like I'm not complaining about the lack of attention to safeguarding and justice in anarchist communities because anarchism is particularly bad at it! I'm complaining about it because tackling the issue requires acknowledging that it does exist in every community we try to build and that we have to speak up and deal with it proactively.

abuse happens in anarchist spaces, in socialist spaces, in marxist-leninist-maoist spaces, in capitalist spaces, in religious fundamentalist spaces, in feudalism, in whatever fucking system of authorities you wanna name. the question is how we deal with it and anarchism is deeply imperfect in that but so is every other system I've seen and anarchism is pointing at the better goal, I think - a method of community accountability which focuses on harm reduction, desystematising, and healing rather than on punishment, revenge or cycles of violence.

we're not there yet and we will probably never build a 100% foolproof system where abuse and interpersonal harm never occur. but frankly neither will any other system, human interactions are complicated and messy and sometimes there will be shitshows - our priorities are to reduce the number, severity, fallout and normalisation of those shitshows and figure out ways to prevent, react and support healing.

like here's one key fucking thing ok. I have found the way that anarchist groups I've been in have handled abuse allegations really traumatic and overwhelming and triggering. but that's largely been because I have some faith in the approach and it hurts a lot more to fuck up when you have hope.

but you are fooling your damn selves if you think going through the police or the state is less traumatic and overwhelming tbh. reporting and going through the court system is notoriously retraumatising and miserable for survivors, even when it's done with empathy and support. it also Does Not Work. punitive justice actively intensifies cycles of abuse and trauma.

obviously like. the main problem in these notes is that inexplicably people reblogging my post seem to believe the core thesis of anarchism is sunshine, rainbows and the milk of human kindness not like. hard graft to build tailored systems to meet community need. and you are wrong about that. anarchism has never been about 'building a community of morally pure sweethearts who wouldn't hurt a fly' it's about taking responsibility yourself, as an individual, for the wellbeing of your community, and working together collectively to identify what needs to change and what systems would create that change.

but the secondary problem is a lack of fucking imagination. people act as if an idea for change not being utterly bulletproof is a reason to throw the whole concept away, as if existing systems are less imperfect. babies, bathwater, my guys.

If I say 'this part of how we're organising is likely to present the risk of abuse' that doesn't mean 'we should stop our whole approach to organising' it means 'we should take stock of why that risk is there and figure out how to adapt to manage it.' Criticising your ideas and approaches is a vital part of building a better version of them and it's really frustrating to have any critical appraisal met with a barrage of SEE THIS IS WHY WE SHOULD FULLY ABANDON THIS IDEA FOREVER

like fuck man how are you planning to build a better system if you can't iterate ideas, criticise, finetune, adapt, reiterate, problematise and adjust, and talk about what the fail points might be? how are you planning to build a better world if you reject any attempt to suggest a replacement for the Totally Fucked Hellworld system unless it has already ironed out every flaw before being tried?

the reason I am talking about the cracks in a lot of anarchist ideas where abuse comes in is because I want anarchist ideas to work. I think they're good ideas. (not communes I don't think communes are good ideas I have been clear on this). I want a better, happier, less harm-filled, less abusive, more just world and I think the anarchist vision has the most elements to get us there so I want those elements to work, which means I want to identify what comes packaged in with those ideas that might be counterproductive. so we can do better. so that we can use the good ideas and dump out the elements that are likely to cause harm. you know. like how thinking works.

[toaarcan]

I find myself wondering how things would've gone down with the Hagah contest if Greg and Bob had never rejected the idea of the two special edition sets in 2005 being Dume and Nidhiki.

Because let's not kid ourselves, the Hagah contest was a shitshow. TTV decided to run all four subject characters at the same time, and Eljay and Mesonak took the whole thing on their own shoulders, and as a result it took basically the whole of the year. The arguments started almost as soon as the subject for the next contest was chosen, as some people wanted the creative freedom to do whatever, and some people wanted the designs to be restricted so they'd look good next to Norik and Iruini.

Not helping matters was that the first contest had demonstrated that the community's definition of a Toa was wide and the voters wouldn't necessarily choose something that looked good next to its official compatriots- Helryx is a good MOC, but she's built to match up with the Toa Mata, who were built to a much smaller scale than the entirety of the Order of Mata Nui sets, and she ends up at about eye-level with Mazeka, a character who notes her physically-identical Melding counterpart as being "Tall."

If they didn't have Norik and Iruini as a benchmark, though, that goes out of the window. With all six Hagah unseen, then it's highly likely that we wouldn't know anything about what they looked like. We wouldn't know about the metallic armour, we wouldn't know about the reshaped masks, we likely wouldn't even know about the Metru Build thing. Uniformity would go right out of the window, because of sets like the Mahri and 08 Nuva.

The contest would likely be an even bigger shitshow, of course. It took them around a year to do four characters, throwing two more into the mix would probably take even longer. There's a non-zero chance that a six-character contest doesn't finish before Greg gets laid off. However, it may have started earlier without the initial wave of arguments. Or they could've been just as bad for different reasons.

I think there'd still be a bunch of Metru builds in the contest, even without the two sets as a measuring stick, because the contest was just before (and likely contributed to) the tail-end of the fandom-wide obsession with the Metru build as the "Perfect" Toa (it's not, for the record). Without a whole year of incredibly same-y MOCs, and a contest where we had to judge them against each other, that love-affair may have lasted longer.

However, it's also possible that without there being the two sets, the Hagah would've been a lower priority for TTV. There would've been no incomplete team of official sets to round off. Instead, the characters that likely would've been in that position of being the "Missing" members of a team with two official sets would've probably been the Mangai.

I don't think TTV would've been nuts enough to run nine contests at once, but I do think there probably would've been the same arguments about whether a Metru build should be mandatory and what is a Metru build anyway, just about Tuyet instead.

And without the Hagah contest, I don't think we would've had that wonderful moment post-finals where people who had managed to avoid the hellscape that was the actual forums during the voting process got to see that team of six (mostly) new Toa lined up together for the first time in ages, and getting hit right in the nostalgia feels. For all its faults as an actual process, the Hagah contest ultimately did manage to create a team that mostly looks uniform, and mostly looks like they could've been sold as sets back in '05. The one outlier, Bomonga, still looks great too. I love him being the (relatively) biggest bungus of a Toa to ever grace the GSR, and the MOC's quality definitely outweighs the annoying brain gremlin that says "Lego never would've made him like that." Yeah, they wouldn't have, and it doesn't matter at all.

I'm still going to go to my grave insisting that Nidhiki is just Iruini with a green mask and a different weapon.

[jcs-singular-slut-strand]

jiang cheng truthers indeed, but i'm here for the soft ask game!

2. what’s your feel-good movie?

3. what’s your favorite candle scent? (send me all candle scents you've ever seen actually. i'm curious, now.)

11. what’s your ideal date?

16. compliment the person who sent you this number. (i'm always down to complementing me <3)

20. what do you want most in the world right now?

21. if you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

25. what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.

27. which character would you want to be?

30. what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

(honestly speaking i was tempted to copy paste the whole thing her, but i restrained myself. the world should thank me ;) )

2) feel good film

Divergent probably. The book is better, especially when it came to the character depth of Tris and the dauntless born initiates who just got introduced in the second film when they actually played significant roles in the first book, but I still love it very much and I re watch it a lot

3) favourite candle scent

1000% clean cotton. I love the smell of clean cotton. I watched the untamed for the first time in either 2020 or 2021 I genuinely do not remember, and I used to light a candle whenever I watched it on my laptop but I genuinely cannot for the life of me recall the name or the scent

11) ideal date

The other person follows me as we go all about the city and I explain to you the history and even if you already knew it you keep your fucking trap shut and listen again. You also let me explain all about the children's book I read when I was wee that is set in my city and I drag you to all the places that are relevant to the story. Then you can choose where we eat. And then when we're there, you let me tell you all about my collection of historical and normal fashion books.

16) compliment the person who sent you this

I think you're amazing, truly. You're supportive and have amazing opinions (meaning we agree a lot lmao). I admire your confidence and individuality, and also your desire to stand up for what you believe is right

20) what do you want the most in the world right now?

I want to make things?? Like writing and staring in plays and television series. But also I want very badly to be a lawyer, like my dad, and prosecute as many rapists as humanly possible.

21) if you could tell your past self anything, what would it be?

Stop posting on your snapchat story, no one gives a single fuck. Also don't cut your hair

25) best personal gift someone could give you?

For my birthday this year my best friend got me a bracelet that has the evenstar from lord of the rings on it. That made me really happy

27) Which characer would you want to be?

I would say Jiang Cheng but do I??? Cause I mean his life has been an absolute shitshow. Idk if I could manage it or hold up as "well" as he has

30) what reminds you of home?

There's a river right outside of my house, runs all down the side of it including under my bedroom window. Whenever I'm away I find it hard to get to sleep at first because I can't here the water. So whenever I'm staying somewhere or I'm just somewhere that has a large body of water next to it and I can here it I'm reminded of home

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

Hey but jk did say his music is gonna come out after yoongi...and seeing how the company is literally rushing everything it was expected. Jimin did not even got time to promote his music for more than a mere 2 weeks, yoongi came in; yoongi just started with his promotions, now a pic of jk with producers and bang pd came in with a big bold "making history" written on it 🫠 I don't understand how come a company this humongous can make stupidest of decisions. Oh and also hybe is fully ready to make jk the harry style of bts so things are gonna get worse. If the company is behind all this then I hope and wish jk will not break jimin's record and get that bbhot100 #1. Then only it will be a true slap on hybe's face.

That's true, last year he said it would be after Yoongi. But right now it's impossible for me to ignore the timing of it all... The words used when they posted those photos, and the implied "I'll do all the work for Jungkook" that comes with it. They also tagged it as "SBProject" which means Scooter Braun Project. He's pretty much Jungkook's manager. And they're giving him a song that they'll invest in and put out on radio and playlists and all of that. He's getting the western celebrity treatment. I can't not be bitter about it all happening amidst the shitshow that was Jimin's album release. How do you expect people to feel about it after they've spent two whole weeks endlessly asking the company and everyone they could think of to send Like Crazy to radio or to give it playlisting; to suddenly see Jungkook with fucking Scooter Braun and BangPD literally thanking him for making "this" happen.

Mind you, radio is the least hybe could've done for Jimin. It honestly seems like they didn't think he'd chart so well everywhere. Because it was literally everywhere in the world, not only in the USA. Jimin never was the member they invested in, even after all the years seeing him deliver amazing results. Everything Jimin always had was the people who supports and loves him unconditionally. People who saw him as the incredible person and artist he is and have been betting on him from the beginning.

They certainly acted stupid with Jimin's debut, but it was so clearly on purpose. Looking back on it, the timing of Jungkook "making history" with Scooter Braun of all people makes so much sense. Okay, it was planned that he'd do promo for a week and stop because of Yoongi or whatever. It was planned for years that they'd push Jungkook as their breakout artist; but even before the #1 was announced, they knew that Like Crazy was going to be top 10. They could've already started arranging a couple more activities, at least an interview. They knew what was coming but they refused to dwell too much on it because hey, we still have Jungkook, we'll put him out there so he'll give us the next #1. Jimin's time has passed.

Oh, he will get that #1. All he needs is radio and he has that secured with Scooter Braun. They saw that it was possible for a BTS member to have that kind of success and they said let's get immediately on it with Jungkook. If Jimin can do and be all that with no support at all, imagine what we can turn Jungkook into with the proper tools any company should provide. It's disgusting, I'm sorry.

All I can hope for is that Jimin knows about everything going on (he most likely does know) and will ask for proper treatment his next release.

[bisquicklite]

The Mass Effect - Skyrim cross over that no one asked for and I will likely never finish (but I did bother to write out the first chapter of because I am an anxious little whore of a woman :3)

Ghosts, Guns and Dragons

Chapter One

Cryptids of Akuze

2177 CE

From the journal of Reyna Wolfsbane

Translated from Dovahzul

“I do not know what day it is here, so I will leave the date a question. But in Tamriel, I believe it should be mid Second Seed, 4th era. From what they tell me, I was unconscious for several days while the healers here worked to bring me back from the brink of death.

When I awoke I found myself in an unfamiliar and strange place, too bright for the lack of windows. My weapons and armor have been taken, as well as the few potions I had brought with me on my journey. I am left near-naked in a thin robe that is pulled away whenever the healers need to check my wounds.

Men with severe faces questioned me, asking what business I had at a place called Akuze. That I wasn’t a colonist, and carried no identification. What group of mercenaries was I with? Where did the giant worms come from? Did I understand that this was a serious investigation, and that dozens of civilians and marines had lost their lives?

I told them what I knew-- about Miraak, how he fled our battle like a coward, how I chased him through a tear in Apocrypha into… Wherever we landed. There were giant worms, yes, and many dead bodies, some looking melted as if splashed with acid from a disgruntled alchemist. They laughed when I said we had rode through on dragons. That Sahrotaar was dragged underground by one of the worms, dying, but his soul stuck and unmoving.

They asked where the other dragon was, as if it was a joke, and didn’t seem to listen as I told them that Kruziikrel flew off. The dragon, once under Miraak’s control, seeing his cowardice, abandoned him.

They kept pressing me with questions, and I pressed back equally with my own concerns. Miraak was still out there, still possibly a danger - hopefully less so now, as he is down to one arm. It is possible that he has lost the Voice as well, but he has had centuries in the Apocrypha to learn how to be a danger to this new world. These men say that there was no trace of anyone else alive where we came through. No one fitting Miraak’s description. They treat me like I’m mad.

For now there is not much that I can do. I am kept shackled to my bed, and made to talk to another healer, this one claiming the title of a ‘psychologist’, Doctor Reed. She says I have delusions, that I have a sickness in my mind that makes me imagine things. This healer is kind, even if she doesn’t believe me, and has given me a sketchbook to draw in. Something about how art can be therapeutic. I have drawn memories from my time in the Apocrypha, and the faces of my companions so that I do not forget them. I write now in Dovahzul, as I still do not have a firm grasp of common writing or reading.

Doctor Reed looked over the pages that I have sketched, and while she says they are skillfully drawn I can’t help but to notice the disappointment and disturbance in her eyes.

They think I am mad here. But since escaping the Apocrypha and the reach of Hermaeus Mora, I feel I have taken back the sanity that was lost on Solstheim. My mind was clear until they gave me medicines that made me tired and foggy.

Miraak is still out there. I will find him.”

~~~

John Shepard internally sighed, more eager to get back to the red jello the nurse brought him than to continue this particular conversation. But there was an official investigation, because of course there had to be one after the shitshow Akuze turned into, to figure out what happened.

Fifty marines dead, a whole colony missing, and giant man-eating worms on the loose. As the sole survivor of the incident- aside from a crazy woman that appeared out of nowhere that he managed to save- there were questions he needed to answer.

“Right, we just wanted to go over your statement one last time, make sure we didn’t miss anything.” One of the investigators said, sounding casually enough. “Your squad arrived at the colony on Akuze at approximately 15-hundred hours.”

“Yes,” John cut in, a headache from the crack he took to the skull already pulsing again. It was almost time for another dose of medication to keep it in check while he recovered. He could guess the general direction the conversation was going to go, and decided to recount the important  details himself. “We searched the settlement and while we found no one alive, the colony was otherwise untouched. Later at about 18-hundred hours we set up camp a short distance away. At about 19-hundred hours a giant worm erupted from the ground and splashed half a dozen of my men with acid.”

He took a moment to breathe, and set his mind to focus on the facts of what had happened. Now was not the time to be getting emotional. Thankfully John was able to carry on calmly, even being watched closely for the two investigators.

The pair of them looked like they had never seen a day of combat. They were pencils pushers, who had the look of children going through a morbidly curious phase. It was the kind of job John's grandmother would have liked for him to have. A nice, safe, respectable career choice. One that wouldn’t suit his restless nature.

“From there it was, understandably, chaos. Someone managed to send out a distress call to get us out of there. We tried running, getting to higher ground, but my squad was quickly killed off…” John felt himself hesitate then, for just a second. What happened next he didn’t particularly want to recount.

If he didn’t tell it just right, he would surely end up with a discharge for being mentally unfit for service.

“Then, comms went down. We couldn’t radio out, hell, we couldn’t even radio each other. Our omnitools stopped working, everything electronic just went haywire.” Pressing on through the story he gestured upwards with the hand that was still holding the spoon for his gelatine snack, “The sky lit up, there was some kind of rippling explosion. That’s when they showed up.”

Before John could continue the shorter of the two men piped up in his nasally voice, “By ‘they’ you mean Miss Reyna Wolfsbane and her friend that we have yet to find, known only as ‘Miraak’?”

John blinked at learning the woman's name. There hadn't been time for introductions on Akuze. He had been too busy trying to survive, and she had been busy trying to get at the masked man she appeared with.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t  exactly call them friends.” John interrupted again with a slight chuckle. He shook his head as he continued to explain, “They were fighting. I know a playful sparring session when I see it. Those two were out for each other’s blood.”

John remembered how she had screamed, shouting words he didn’t understand and his translator didn’t know what to do with. But with each shout the air rippled with shock that he felt in his bones. Force and anger radiated out of the pair of them.

His first impression, seeing the two descend from the hole in the sky on the backs of dragons had been awestruck. Then a thought of how hard he had hit his head in the initial attack, and that he was possibly hallucinating. The look on the remaining Marines at his side told him it was real.

But now, in an Alliance hospital where he was recovering from a concussion and acid burns, with no evidence to prove what he saw, he had to fit the story to their expectations.

"When we saw them we thought they were LARPers-" John had started to resume his story when he was cut off by the taller investigator.

"Sorry, LARPers?" One of the men squinted his eyes at the unfamiliar word.

"Live Action Role Player." The other answered the question, which received him a certain look from his companion. "What? It's a thing. People dress up like wizards or knights or whatever and, uh, role play."

"... Is it a sex thing?"

"It doesn't have to be." The shorter one cleared his throat and nodded back to John, "Sorry, Lieutenant, you were saying?"

John looked between the two of them to confirm their back-and-forth was complete before speaking again. This time he sounded markedly dispassionate, "Over the course of approximately thirty minutes the remaining members of my squad were killed."

The dragons and their riders had been circling around in the sky. One dove at the other's throat, dragging both crashing to the ground. Their riders dismounted in a messy fashion. The woman, dressed in thick armor that looked like it was made of scales, wasted no time in drawing a sword and running down her quarry.

"We had been trying to push our way back to the rendezvous point for extraction, but Jordan was badly wounded." John maintained an alternating eye contact with both men. Their discomfort reminded him not to mention any mythical creatures in his account. "I didn't let him go until it was clear he was dead."

The dragons and their riders were between John and the rendezvous point. In the glimpses he caught on the dead run he could see their battle- one in a robe with a staff, the armored one wielding a sword. They fought with skill and ferocity that he admired and feared.

There were more shouts in that strange language. One of the dragons swooped low on its approach, and for an instant John feared he would be it's target. Instead, it zoomed past him, crashing into a giant worm as it leaped from the ground. John had been shocked, watching the great winged reptile spitting fire into the air before it was dragged down. The motion was reminiscent of a python biting and coiling around its prey.

He started running again, fueled with a fresh rush of adrenaline and fear. Beneath his feet, even sprinting as he was, he could feel the ground rumble with the worm wrestling with its meal. But there were other worms that hadn’t been fed, and he could swear he could sense them approaching.

He continued talking while recalling the events, omitting what was necessary. "The other one ran off. But I managed to grab Miss Wolfsbane, and got us to the rendezvous."

By the time their battle was wrapping up he had been quickly closing the few yards that were between them. The man in robes was already running away, but the woman, Reyna, had seemed to have exhausted herself. John had skidded to a stop with seconds to spare to pull her arm over his shoulder, practically dragging her to the rendezvous point. The other dragon was nowhere to be seen, but the approaching shuttle was a welcomed sight.

It was only once they had thrown themselves onto the shuttle that John could fully take stock of his wounds, much less notice the knife in the woman’s side.

No, knife was the wrong word. It was a dagger, with a long and ornate handle crafted from shining black metal.

“I had a pretty bad concussion, so I blacked out after that.” John finished simply, mentally shutting the memories of that day last week into a box in the back of his mind.

He could focus his mind on more important matters. Namely, getting these two to leave, and returning to the sweet whipped cream topped jello dessert the nurse was nice enough to bring him thirds of.

"And just to be clear," the taller of the two started to ask, his eyes and fingers busy with a data pad in his hands, "You didn't see any dragons on Akuze, did you?"

The question hung in the air for what felt like forever. John trained his expression carefully, making his face blank. Usually, from what he was told, this look came off as mildly offended to those it was directed. He completed the appearance with a stern tone, "Is that supposed to be a joke, sir?"

The shorter investigator jabbed his elbow into the other's side. "I told you that wouldn't be funny."

"It's a little funny." The other replied with a small smile before waving the matter off with his hand. "Sorry, Miss Wolfsbane wouldn’t let the topic go. She kept talking about dragons and how one was still on the loose and-"

"Collin, it's really not okay to make fun of the mentally ill." The shorter of the two chastised quietly.

"Not my fault you don't have a sense of humor Bondeaux." The other retorted.

While relieved that they didn't press further about mythical flying lizards that he had definitely seen, John also couldn't help a growing concern on the topic of that woman.

"Hey, is she doing okay?" He asked suddenly, which drew the investigators attention back to him. "Miss Wolfsbane, I mean. She was injured pretty badly when we were picked up, and the doctors aren't telling me anything."

"She'll recover. Her injuries were critical, and she lost a lot of blood, but she woke up yesterday." The shorter answered, clearly the more empathetic of the pair. "She hasn't admitted to any involvement in the incident on Akuze, but her mental state is… Questionable."

John nodded at this answer, though still felt a pang of guilt. That woman wasn't crazy. Not the way they thought she was, anyway. He wasn't crazy. But without evidence there was nothing to back up the claims of the additional happenings that day. 

"What's going to happen to her?" John asked before he could stop himself.

"Well, our investigation is pending her undergoing a psychiatric evaluation. I imagine if she has a significant diagnosis then she'll be medicated and put into a long term facility for her and everyone else's safety."

Again John nodded as if accepting the answer. It still didn't feel right, but he chose to bite his tongue instead of speaking up again.

“Do you have any idea who she is?”

“I don’t know." John shrugged with his reply. The words stuck in his throat before he could speak. "As far as I can tell, Miss Wolfsbane is a crazy lady with a sword.”

“Well, now she’s just crazy.” The taller of the two chuckled.

The shorter jumped in to answer the question in John’s expression. “Her weapons had to be confiscated, of course. Safety hazard.”

The investigators left without further questioning him, thankfully. With the more coherent version he was able to tell now that the concussion-fueled brain fog has started to dissipate; they had all they needed from John.

Usually, even on bad days, John had a sweet tooth that wasn't easily satisfied. Looking down at the squares of red topped with a generous pile of whipped cream he was disappointed to find his appetite missing. Setting the dessert aside again he laid back against the pillows, and tried to ignore the itching pain on his right side.

~~~

It was sometime later, after finally eating the jello with no joy and a nap, that John decided to follow his doctor’s advice on getting some exercise. Nothing too strenuous, was the precise advice, just a walk around the hospital grounds.

The wonders of modern medicine got his bruised ribs healed quickly, and the acid burns along the right shoulder already scaring over. But the concussion would simply take time and rest to heal. He was thankful that none of the injuries were career-ending. However the mental strain of watching his entire squad getting killed did bring the attention of psychiatrists who would occasionally check in on his mental state.

All things considered, he was 'handling it well', they said. There was encouragement to talk about how he was feeling, pills to help him get to sleep without nightmares, and an offer to talk anytime it was needed. It was an offer he had yet to take advantage of, and didn't intend to. With how much he had left out of the official report, he was reluctant to even try.

So, he walked, in the calmer hours where patients were asleep and less staff roamed around. It felt surprisingly nice to get out of bed and move around now that his body was up to it. He thought he looked like an invalid in the sweat pants and plain grey shirt, shuffling in slippers that made his toes sweaty. In a window overlooking a small courtyard he caught a glint of reflection, and winced at how distressed he looked.

John had thought that getting out of bed would change the station of his mind. Instead he found it automatically replaying, on a loop, the events of the past week. The hours on Akuze. Then, how he had likely sentenced a random woman to what would likely be intense psychiatric care.

Right, he thought, outside. Fresh air. Grandma had always recommended fresh air to clear one’s head. With that decided he roamed slowly until he made it outside, where the air was crisp and refreshing. Even if the night was nice, it only soothed his thoughts momentarily.

Suddenly the loop stopped and he was fully jerked back to reality. He had been looking dead ahead, his feet on autopilot carrying him through the facility to the small courtyard. His eyes had recognized the figure before his brain clicked with just who he was looking at, and he stopped dead in his tracks, suddenly tense.

She was sitting on a bench just a few yards away, the woman that rode into the world on the back of a dragon, serenely staring up at the night sky. Her armor had been stripped, replaced with the comfortable, loose clothing that indicated a patient. Any weapons she had been carrying would have been taken as well. With the way she looked now peacefully sitting with her hands in her lap, it would be hard to imagine her as the warrior John had seen before.

His eyes scanned the area on instinct, seeking possible threats. A guard posted at an opposite door nodded to him in acknowledgement. The lights in the area were low, the courtyard sparsely decorated. Grass, some bushes he couldn’t name the species of, a small tree in one corner. There were no dragons. There were no giant worms spitting acid. He forced a deep breath to calm himself, willing his jaw to unclench and his fists to unravel.

There was no danger here. Eventually his body and lower brain functions listened and eased.

He wanted to turn around and go back to bed. Maybe turn on some vids of cute puppies and kittens to distract his mind. Against his own better judgment John found himself continuing forward with a purposeful stride, slowed to a stop, and eased himself into the free space next to the woman on the bench. Next to him the woman, Reyna, didn’t seem aware that he was there.

"Rough night?" He asked, casually enough.

She was slow to react, her gaze easing from the sky to him. There were deep dark circles under the ocean-blue eyes that told him she hadn't been sleeping well, if at all. Despite the clear exhaustion, and slack expression, she was still a striking woman. With a pale complexion marred by scars down her arms and a faded one along her jawline.

"Aye," She replied after a moment, her gaze not quite focusing on him but rather drifting, "It has been a rough... while."

Her voice was quiet, though held a clear accent John couldn't quite pin. It sounded perhaps Swedish, or something similar. She had the features of a classic Scandinavian beauty.

“I see they got a guard keeping an eye on you.” He commented absently, not sparing a glance to the marine assigned to Reyna who kept a respectful distance from where they sat.

"Making sure I don't cause trouble. Or try to run away." She spoke softly, and gave a small nod. Her eyes drifted again, this time going back up to the sky again. Without prompting she went on to say, “The funny thing is, I don’t know where I would even run. This place is not home. I am quite sure it is not a plane of Oblivion, but it is not home.”

John could feel the confusion leak into his face. When a moment passed that he didn’t offer a reply she turned her gaze to him, and as if to explain herself gestured to the sky, “The stars are all wrong here.”

“Right. Yeah.” John nodded as if accepting the answer when he was merely trying to understand what the hell she was talking about. He could understand about the stars if this woman didn’t understand about changing star positions based on the viewers location, but in this age it was a common concept. A headache threatened the back of his head if he thought too hard on the topic.

She spoke about 'Oblivion' as if it were a place, an odd comment from an even odder woman. If she talked like this to the doctors, it was no surprise that she ended up medicated, sedated to a sluggish pace where she would be easy to keep an eye on. In the brief quiet John joined her in looking at the stars, though refused to take all his attention off her.

"You were the one from before...?" She said suddenly, looking back at him. Gaining a degree more animation she spoke, "With the, um," she gestured with both hands, cupping them as if holding a weapon and giving small jerking motions. It was only then that John noticed the restraints shackled around her wrists, which shouldn't have surprised him. 

"With the... rifle?" It took a moment to catch on to what she was trying to say, and he wondered how much sedatives she had been given.

"Rifle." She repeated the word carefully, as if such a word had never passed her lips. Letting her hands go slack into her lap the woman nodded. "Yes." Then a look of recognition crossed her face and she visibly perked, "You were the one who saved me. From the worms."

John found himself fumbling for words for a moment. He had been trying to avoid thinking about Akuze, and had been fairly successful until that second. Sure, he dragged her out of a hotzone. But the side of the story he told effectively threw her under the bus. Even if she wasn’t implicated on what happened, there was no way she was getting away without being labeled unstable.

"Yeah. Yeah that was me." He managed to get out, unsure if the gleam in this woman's eye was her gearing up to praise or chew him out. Did she know that he lied?

"I'm not used to being saved. Usually I'm the one doing the saving." She said this with a small smile, her eyes drifting away from him for a second. When she looked at him again her stare pinned him in place. "Thank you. For the rescue."

"Yeah, its, ah, no problem...?" He trailed off, eyebrows raising in thought about what exactly this woman had done with her life. She wasn’t Alliance, that was damn sure. John got the sense that there was a lengthy story to her that would likely remain unknown.

At the very least he could scratch the surface a little, for his own curiosity.

Before he could think too hard about what he was doing, and risk inviting a headache, John extended a hand in a friendly introduction, “John Shepard.”

“Reyna,” She answered in the soft voice of the moderately sedated, and rose a hand to grasp his wrist. Then, a moment later as if trying to recall her own name, “Wolfsbane.”

“Well, Reyna, I’m glad to see you’re still alive.” He offered a small smile, sincere in his statement. It was good to know that at least someone else got off of Akuze.

“Aye, the healers did a good job of patching me up.” She nodded, her hands returning to her lap.

John got the impression that she was trying to push through a mental fog to be able to hold a conversation. Her speech was still slow, and her eyes struggled to keep focus under heavy lids that threatened to stay closed with every blink. But she didn’t seem crazy, or dangerous by any means. A little strange, yes, but not crazy.

“And yourself?” Her question surprised John, who had been mulling over how to tactfully ask where she came from or something that would shed some light on her mystery. “The last time I saw you, you were bleeding all over the place.”

John glanced down at his right side, which was bandaged up under his shirt, and then remembered the concussion and broken ribs he had had. The concussion still fogged his brain, but thankfully didn’t leave him incapacitated, and the acid burns would heal. Everything was thankfully numbed with medigel and additional pain killers.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” He answered automatically, without much thought. Then, he decided to follow up with more honesty, “I will be okay. I’ll have a gnarly scar on my side, but at least my skull is thick enough to prevent any serious brain damage.” One of his hands went up to gently rub at the bandage affixed to the side of his head, and he had to remind himself not to pick at it while it was healing.

“Good.” Reyna said simply, with a small smile. Her eyes drifted away from him again, returning to gaze at the stars above.

They sat in a brief, comfortable silence, while John worked up the nerve to ask a question that had been gnawing at his mind. He knew he wasn’t crazy. The worst any psychiatric evaluations turned up was some lingering trauma from his childhood that he had managed to work through.

“Hey, I’ve gotta ask, because I’m not sure what was real and what was a brain-injury fueled hallucination.” He started, drawing Reyna’s attention steadily back to him. She eyed him curiously as he looked away, sure that he would lose his nerve if he had to maintain eye contact. “Back on Akuze with all the shit going down…”

Saying it aloud seemed absurd. But he managed to force the words out with his eyes shut. “You two, were riding around on dragons? Was that real?”

“Sahrotaar, and Kruziikrel.” Reyna replied without hesitation, her voice barely a whisper. She went on, “When I was young, there was a boy in the village that got kicked in the head by a horse. He survived, but he was never the same after. He spoke like a drunk, all slow and slurred. Most nights he screamed at the moons, and he would go on and on about how chickens were secretly agents of the Thalmor sent to spy on us all.”

“Sorry, Thalmor?... Um.” This conversation had stopped making sense, and John couldn’t help squinting his eyes at Reyna who managed to simply sit calmly. He was starting to think the guys who interrogated him earlier that day were right and this woman was crazy, “What?”

“I suppose that’s another thing you don’t have in this world, eh?” There was laughter in her voice as she said this. Reyna’s voice went more serious as she returned her gaze to him, “It was all real. Miraak, me, the dragons, all of it.”

[goldenpinof]

I have to say, the smartest business decision dnp ever made was to not sell or outsorce their channels or content in anyway, maintaining sole rights and control over their content.

It was just announced that Anthony padilla has bought back smosh, and people have been discussing why smosh fell in the forst place etc and it all comes down to the fact that they sold it to a media outlet, who then went bankrupt because they didnt actually know shit about content creation.

And EXACTLY the same problem happened with the 'britcrew' back in the day and a lot of the most popular youtubers. They sold their channels or the rights etc to external management companies in the hope that they would help the channels grow and earn more money, but in the end it was just the opposite and most of those management companies have since tanked. The newer ones are better but the ones from the 2010s were always doomed.

But dnp never joined in on this and they have always been quite open about this. Infact thats why they were often so removed from the british youtuber scene. They obviously still have a team of people to help them with certain things and they aren't completely independent but they do maintain control and legal rights to everything they make and do. The most creative control we have seen them give anyone else was with BBC radio 1 and with dan and his tv show (and we know how that turned out). They even made their own merch company to avoid outsourcing (which yes irlmerch has many issues, but youve got to admit it worked out well for them for the most part)

And what that has meant is that, while they definitely aren't the top preforming youtubers anymore, they aren't doing badly either, and they have a much easier opportunity to make a comeback, especially if they start exploring other content avenues. Their success wasnt the highest out of anyone, but their decline has also been slow and steady. They genuinely managed to gain a stable career and income out of all of this which not a lot of people can say. I just think its interesting.

other then bbc i think dapgo also has to be mentioned espesially with recent comments from dnp :)) the moment they give away too much control it goes a bit sideways. even Dan's tour was too much of a shitshow due to miscommunication with promoters, managers and etc. like, remember Dan didn't have a right to do a pre-show in Belfast despite it being a part of the UK leg? and he found out about it right before the show. the whole Amsterdam thing. the added shows and cancelations of shows. speaking of giving away rights and delegating things.

tell me more about the britcrew selling their rights to companies, please. i don't think i know about it. Zoe had a lot going on and some of it was controversial and she didn't have a say in some stuff. but other then that i'm clueless? Joe and Caspar started their own company, and i don't think Joe was heavily involded in anything before.

[hiimawarish]

Gojo isn't dead.

in his fight with Toji, he said that the only reason To didn't kill him was because he didn't cut off his head.

His head is still intact.

We know he can regrow limbs too-

So I don't think this is the end.

I'm going to answer under the cut because it might get a bit long.

Yeah, we know he can regrow limbs, but taking into account that Gege hates him, I highly doubt he'll come back from this. I've seen a lot of people saying that this whole "going North or going South" that Nanami mentions might hint that Gojo is coming back because he said goodbye to his dead friends and didn't choose a direction but-

I don't know. It's Gege we're talking about.

However, I'm glad you feel confident. Truly. I do think the Toji thing is a very good point, but at this point with all the bs Gege has been pulling out basically since The Culling Games... I guess I'm saying I don't trust him because plot-wise, we have nothing. And it shows.

Gege got Gojo out of the box when they did because they feared (more) people would stop reading JJK. It wasn't because it was right for the plot, because they planned it like that, or even because the timing was right. Gege got him out of the box because people were done with the series, and The Culling Games were literally getting nowhere.

The funny thing about this is how you create such an overpowered character knowing that he will be very difficult to remove, and then you hate him. You despise him. As if it hadn't been you that created him in the first place. And I am mentioning this because it is very clear with this shitshow of a fight that Gege was pulling things out of their ass to see how he could actually manage to kill Gojo off. But they couldn't. That's why we had this whole "oh he might die this chapter" and then "nah, he's fine". In Spanish we call it "tira y encoge" , or pull and shrink, and it basically means that nothing is really happening because it's just a tug rope game.

Moreover, Gege planned something different for JJK during The Culling Games, it fell through because after three years everyone was getting impatient for Gojo's return and whatever they'd do to get him out, and it is clear that the plot has fell through ever since. Gojo's death against Sukuna just shows that. If Gege were thinking, truly thinking about the plot and whatever story they supposedly want to tell, they would have allowed Gojo this small victory against Sukuna to let him fail against Kenjaku---it would still allow the kids to show what they can do, and Gojo would still have died like Gege wanted to. It would have made more sense and it would have given everyone a false sense of security, while also giving Gojo the "chance" to try and recover Geto's body.

Did Gege want him to have the same death anniversary as Geto? Maybe. Do I care? Not really.

Sorry for the long rant. I'm a pessimist by nature and between Shibuya getting animated, Gege's bs, and reliving Nanami's death through Gojo... I had a lot of thoughts. Hopefully, you'll be right and Gojo will actually come back to kick Sukuna's ass.