#like im so fucking sorry?

[gongedtornado]

h*zbin/h*lluva enjoyers fuck off from my page plz 🙏

[daftmooncretin]

spock’s room decor is actually fucking bonkers. The weapons??? the big red velvet curtain??? like ok phantom of the opera go crazy.

for reference jim’s room has some photos and a plant so we can surmise this is uniquely a spock being a dramatic weirdo thing

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[doctorhomo]

“old man writes about gen z on their damn phones” ?????? no?????? old man writes about the dangers of staying in your own bubble and prejudice and privilege to the point where you’d rather die than let a black man save you????? old man writes about useless influencer-types who are so dependent on their bubble that they dont know when they need a piss???????? old man writes about white people desperately trying to make their own aryan society and staying in their racist BUBBLE ????????

[enderspawn]

these have been in my brain for literal months now please just get them out of here

[datcravat]

It seems there's a new lawyer in town!!!

[puppyeared]

thanks @chipper-smol for getting me ISAT i will be so irresponsible with the looping

[lmaowh-at]

Catelyn heard someone snigger behind her. She loves him, poor thing, she thought sadly. She'd play his squire just to touch him, and never care how great a fool they think her... (and some other things)

[papanowo]

i think dan should get to be a little weird too. as a treat

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[shouyuus]

18+, yet more vi-shaped brainrot, mndi

yes so we have all considered rugby/college roommate!vi but have we considered waterpolo/childhood bff!vi.

waterpolo!vi who's constantly at the pool, so much so that her sweat even on her gym days smell like chlorine. who will stand in the lockers with nothing but a towel around her waist, water still dripping down her body, tits out, just texting, grinning down at her phone bc she totally doesn't have post notifs on for your instagram... like who does that, right? but damn, you look cute in the little sundress you wore to brunch last sunday with your friends -- she wonders if you'll tell her about it at lunch later today.

waterpolo!vi who's been friends with you since childhood, and you were the one who go her into swimming because that one summer when you were both eight and your mom signed you up for swim-class, you cried for half and hour bc you said you weren't gonna know anyone there. and vi, being the amazing bff and neighbor that she is, of course, volunteered as tribute. she'd never forgotten how much fun it was to play in the shallows with you after the class had ended, splashing at each other, pretending to have a tea-party, sitting criss-cross at the bottom of the sun-soaked water, how you'd pulled your hair out of the swim-cap and let it halo around you in soft, wispy waves.

waterpolo!vi who definitely hasn't told you that she only applied to this uni (on a sports scholarship bc she knew that'd get her in) bc you said it was your top choice. thankfully, it has one of the better waterpolo teams, so you were ecstatic when you found out. who, by then, has definitely figured out that her affection for you is just a bit more than straight up bff status, but she also don't wanna fuck things up with you so she keeps her mouth shut. and really, she asks herself, what's the difference anyway? i mean, you hadn't even blinked when she brought up wanting to sign up for the same freshman dorms. ("of course we are! what, did you think i'd let anyone else be my roommate? gosh, it's like you don't know me at all!")

waterpolo!vi who tries to give you your own space (having practice every single day helps with that tbh), but can't help when her heart skips a lil every time you text her, or every time you post something on social media. she tells herself that it's okay to text back immediately, you've been friends for so long after all, right? that doesn't make her look weird or desperate? right? right.

waterpolo!vi who honestly still gets off to the memory of the one time the pair of you made out drunkenly at a party in high school -- it had been one of those backyard parties where everyone was drinking fucked up jungle juice and things were already a mess when you got there. but you were always down for a good time, and so was she, but somehow, it'd ended up with the pair of you curled up in a dark corner, your legs slung over her lap, her fingers inching up the hem of your spaghetti strap top, all eager, clumsy lips and needy little moans and the taste of your strawberry-mint glitter lipgloss.

waterpolo!vi who definitely tries a bit harder to show off whenever you come to her games, always checking the stands, her face lighting up whenever she spots you in the crowd, waving at her, cheering whenever she makes a goal. afterwards, she'd find flowers tucked into her locker and the rest of the team snickering at how red she's gotten staring at them before she towel-whips the nearest one and tells them all to shut up.

waterpolo!vi who asks you to come to the gym with her, promises it'll be chill and that she won't work you too hard, but nearly short-circuits when you show up in a pair of lululemon shorts and a sports bra, your hair tugged up into a high ponytail, telling her that you got these super cute stickers from a cafe you went to last week and have been meaning to give one of them to her so your water bottles can match. who makes good on her word of not working you too hard, but she definitely suffers in her own workout that day cause she's too busy watching you do squats (she tells herself its to make sure ur form is good but we all know the truth).

waterpolo!vi who freaks out when, on her birthday, the water polo team texts her and tells her to come to the pool house, alone. she thinks it's just another one of their weird pranks, but when the lights click on and you're standing there behind a massive cake with her name hung up behind you in lurid, bright pink blow up balloons, she freezes. and then a there's champagne popping and spraying at her, completely soaking her tanktop, sticking to her skin. you squeal, laughing as you shake a bottle towards her, grinning so wide she thinks her heart might burst.

"surprise! happy birthday!"

"holy shit -- oh yeah! it's my birthday!"

you roll your eyes, dabbing at some champagne that had gotten on your cheek, glancing at a few of the other girls.

"yeah, that's the thing with birthday's vi, they happen every year. and yet somehow every year, i'm the one that remembers its your birthday."

vi just grins, pulling you in to press a fat, wet kiss to your cheek, making you squirm bc she's literally soaked with champagne still, and a few of the girls on the team smirk in her direction when they make eye contact with her, but she only glares at them before going back to watching you fuss about the cake and how many slices to cut it into.

an idea slithers into her head, a truly insidious idea. but fuck it, it's her birthday, and she deserves to have a little fun (and she doesn't think you'll be too mad at her afterwards), so she inches her hand up till it's cradling the back of your head, then shoves your face into the top layer of the cake. you yelp, jerking back with your mouth wide open, icing smeared across your skin. everyone laughs, but vi only grins and wipes a bit of the sweet cream from your cheek, sucking her thumb into her mouth.

"mm delicious, princess. thanks."

you blink at her for a few seconds before sighing, attempting to wipe a bit more of the cake from your face, and falling into a fit of giggles as well.

"whatever, i guess if it makes you that happy," you say, accepting a few napkins from one of the girls on the team. someone else takes over cutting the cake, and a few un-spilled bottles of champagne are already being poured into red solo cups. "i'm gonna go clean up -- be right back."

vi watches you make for the lockers, but someone shoves her towards you. she turns to find several of her teammates motioning furiously in your direction, mouthing go, you fucker, go!

she teeters for a few seconds before jogging after you.

"hey! i'll -- uh -- i'll come with you. since it's my mess too." she laughs, nudging you with her shoulder as she catches up to you.

waterpolo!vi who has to hold her breath when she's helping you wipe cake icing from your face, running a damp towel down your neck, you tilting your head back to give her better access.

"so, how long've you been planning this?" she asks, if only to say something to break the silence.

"not that long -- like a week or so. the cake took the longest -- i wanted to get it from your favorite place on the edge of town, but they don't do deliveries, so i had to go and get it without you knowing, and then figure out where to hide it --"

"oh is that was the 'emergency study sesh' was that you had to run off to this morning was?"

you grin, sheepish as she pulls back to look you over.

"yeah... but i mean -- as long as you liked it! it was worth it, right?"

"oh i loved it, cupcake," she says, casually bopping your nose as she tosses the towel into the big laundry cart for cleaning. she takes a breath, "you're the best friend a girl could ask for, princess."

and she sees it the, the something flicker across your face, a shadow that darkens your eyes for just a second before you look back up at her.

"uhm... about that --"

"hm?" vi turns so fast her neck almost cricks. fuck.

you're staring at her, and she's staring back. there's a moment, like the held-breath between twirling fan-blades.

"i -- uhm -- damn," you look down at your hands, your cheeks suddenly flooding with color, "i had this whole speech prepped and everything --"

vi plops down on locker bench in front of you, tugging your chin back up.

"c'mon, princess. what is it?"

your eyes catch, and vi feels her stomach flip, her heart crawling up the length of her chest to beat, bleating and desperate, at the back of her throat. she can almost taste the metallic thump of it on her tongue.

"i just -- it's --" you twist your fingers in your lap, "i've been meaning to... to tell you for a while but uhm --"

"tell me what?" fuck, her voice comes out so raspy, so needy. she swallows, trying for her usual nonchalance. "you can tell me anything, y'know that right, cupcake?"

you purse your lips, her words seemingly setting you more and more on edge. she leans forward, mesmerized by the pink plumpness caught beneath your teeth. she swipes her thumb along the corner.

"sorry -- missed a spot..." she pulls back, showing you the tiny smear of icing on her finger.

"i like you," you blurt out, the momentum of the words carrying you forward just a bit, and you're gasping when you jerk back, eyes wide, as if you can't believe you'd just said that out loud.

vi freezes.

"oh."

"sorry that was -- i was gonna tell you later tonight -- i had this whole thing planned but -- ugh, there's even a really nice bottle of wine chilling in the fridge --"

but vi's kissing you, and holy shit -- vi's kissing you. her hand at the back of your neck, her other hand cupping your cheek, and she's pressing you back so hard you almost stumble off the bench, squeaking in surprise when she nearly hauls you to your feet to press you up against one of the lockers, cushioning your head with a palm.

"v-vi? mmngh --" you gasp, lashes fluttering as she licks her way down your neck, sucking a hard hickey into the skin there, her teeth biting down as she fists her fingers in your hair.

"holy shit -- sorry -- just -- you have no idea how long i've wanted this --"

she pulls back, her pupils blown, and for a second, you wonder if she's drunk -- you wonder if you're drunk because what is happening right now -- but then you remember that neither of you have had anything to drink yet.

"y-you have?"

vi groans, pushing back in to mouth at your lips, "yeah -- sh-shoulda told you earlier but --" she tugs at the strap of your dress, reveling in the tiny little gasping sound you make as she nips at your collarbone.

waterpolo!vi who can't believe this is happening right now -- really, she might be dreaming, but even if she is, whatever. it's the best dream she's had in ages, having you whimpering against her in this empty locker, your fingers digging into her back as she rucks up your skirt.

"fuck princess, if you're joking about this you better tell me now because --"

"i -- i'm not violet, i swear if you stop --"

she keens when she tugs aside your panties and feels your wetness collect on her fingers. she grins, pulling back just far enough to catch your eyes -- they're glazed over with want, and so, so soft. it almost makes her pause, almost.

she pushes forward, sinking a finger into you, groaning at the tightness. your head lolls back against the closed lockers and vi takes the chance to admire you -- the soft sweep of your lashes as your eyes flutter closed, the round o of your mouth as you moan, the tiny crease between your eyebrows as pleasure paints itself by strokes across the delicate features of your face.

"yeah? that feel good, princess?"

"mm -- mhm --" you nod, fervently, looking back down with half-lidded eyes, reaching down to pull vi back towards you for a long kiss. you lick into her mouth, rocking your hips down against her hand. she hisses against you, her mind nearly fizzing out at the way you drop your face into her shoulder, hanging onto her for dear life as she fucks you on her fingers.

waterpolo!vi who misses nearly her entire birthday party for fucking her new girlfriend to pieces in the lockers. not like her teammates didn't know -- sound really carries in that locker room. she knows. they know. you only find out later when the pair of you come back to the party, red-faced and way too disheveled, vi looking way too smug.

"have a good time in there?" one of the girls asks.

vi shrugs, "yeah y'know. just had to make sure she was cleaned up properly."

another girl rolls her eyes, "yeah right. and im sure all the screaming was because you were just doing such a thorough job, right."

vi smirks, "i try."

waterpolo!vi who makes a point of coming back from swim practice with her hair still wet, a towel draped around her shoulders, baggy shorts around her hips, a tight white tank, and nothing else, just because she knows it makes you pause, knows it sets you off. grins when she comes home to drop a kiss to your cheek and you look up, only to swallow, eyes raking down her body.

"gonna jump in the shower, wanna join me?"

you crinkle your nose, glancing back at the group project you were trying to finish with some classmates on zoom.

"uhm -- sorry guys -- i gotta go."

"wait what -- we're supposed to finish this tonight --"

"sorry, there's uh --" you glance back at vi, who's smirking, leaning in your doorway, an eyebrow hitched, "i think my girlfriend burnt the toast in the kitchen -- sorry, bye!"

you hang up the zoom call even as vi scoffs.

"really? i burnt the toast one time."

she tugs you to her for a kiss as you try to walk by her towards the bathroom. you grin against her lips.

"yeah, and it set off the fire alarm for the entire building, remember?"

"mm. yeah, whatever," she mumbles, busying herself with tugging off your sweatshirt as the pair of you stumble into the bathroom.

"how was practice?" you ask, as vi kicks the door closed behind you, jerking off her tank with one hand, kicking it away on the tiled floor before advancing on you with a predatory glint in her eyes.

"it was fine. we did passing and man-up drills. nothing too bad -- shoulders are sore though."

"yeah? you wanna massage after this?"

"mm that does sound nice," vi says, twisting on the shower, jerking her head for you to step in, climbing in after you with a soft, satisfied groan as the hot water hits her aching muscles.

"but for right now," she says, twisting you around and pressing a quick kiss to your lips, "why don't you get on your knees for me, pretty? there's just one more thing i want you to take care of for me before that massage."

you lick your lips, kiss her back, before dropping to your knees with a sweet smile.

"ready for your post-workout?" you ask, blinking up at her with your big, innocent eyes, even as your fingers inch up her thighs, coaxing them apart. vi groans, leaning back against the cool shower tiles.

"holy fuck yeah."

[lotus-pear]

the dialogue choices in this game should be more diabolical

[cameatslemons]

mouthwashing post. jimmy is a raging narcissist and im tired of people trying to give him benefit of the doubt. his inability to see two feet beyond what immediately concerns him dooms everyone on the tulpar, and even in the end, he only really cares about himself.

big list of all his narcisstic bullshit below bc im here to motherfucking prove it (mouthwashing spoilers of course)

most obviously: everything is a personal attack on him. EVERYTHING. you can see it most clearly at the birthday party; while everyone else is understandably freaking out about being laid off, jimmy starts telling curly off and insulting both him and everyone else at the table, as if being laid off is a personal attack on jimmy specifically. it doesn’t matter that anya has nothing to go back to, that swansea’s life is thrown away- jimmy is the ONLY victim here, apparently. curly is personally responsible for getting laid off, in his eyes.

i don’t actually know the words for this but the way he’s constantly going “i have to do EVERYTHING around here”- again, feeling like its a personal attack to be asked anything at all. anya asks him to take care of curly because her entire fucking life is falling apart, its her end of days, but somehow shes the villain for struggling.

also the general antagonization of anya. she’s extremely competent for the hand she was dealt! shes too poor to attend med school yet shes very knoqledgable in medication and wound care! and yeah no shit shes struggling now, someone she cared deeply about is suffering immensely and now the ship is being “run” by a man who assaulted her. no fucking shit shes breaking down. but jimmy makes it clear time and time again that this is somehow her fault, all this shit of “shouldn’t nurses EARN their titles?” while she’s having a mental breakdown.

similarly, swansea being villainized for holding the cryopod for daisuke and killing him. like, i get it, but jimmy’s whole thing of saying he can fix daisuke is… c’mon man. he’s a hero to himself, he “always” fixes things the same way he “fixed” the ship, and he will fix daisuke and claim heroism even though it’s very clear nothing else can be done for him.

“someday you’ll thank me” while forcing curly to eat his own leg. the incredible confidence that he is in the right even when literally torturing someone.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: the final scene with curly burning. jimmy doesn’t earnestly believe he has anything to be sorry for. even when apologizing to curly he says “we can BOTH be heroes!” despite everything, he still thinks he’s in the right. he STILL thinks he’s a hero, because he’s right, he’s ALWAYS right, surely. he can apologize and grovel all he wants but in the end he still thinks he’s the hero of this story; he doesn’t genuinely think he has anything to right, he’s only doing this to be freed of consequence. and/or believes a simple “sorry” is enough, that it can fix completely ruining the lives of four people with his own inferiority complex.

i do think the choice to put curly in the pod instead of himself is the only time he recognizes his own guilt, if any. maybe it’s realizing that he DOES need something more than a simple “sorry” to even begin to try to fix things, maybe it’s that he thinks this will cement him even further as a hero. even then, does this fix anything? all it’s doing is making curly suffer more. is this actually a good thing?

to him, he’s the hero here. he always is. crashing the ship is a heroic thing, putting all his crewmates through hell is a heroic thing. all because something nobody can control is somehow a personal attack on jimmy.

not to mention all the “hallucinations” he has- it’s what he thinks should happen, it’s what he wants to hear. curly still calling him a friend, the dead corpses of his crewmates praising him, even in the final cutscene with curly burning where he says “no, YOU take the pod”. none of it’s real. it’s just what jimmy thinks is “right”. despite everything, he thinks everyone should thank and praise him, because he can do no wrong.

conclusion: jimmy is a narcisstic piece of shit.

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[milk-ducts]

might delete ,, its been fucking ages since ive touched an art program so . it didnt come out as good and im not proud of how the face turned out so wonky 😭

its a quick messy doodle of a buffed out mark w a longer hairstyle <3 begging the showrunners 2 give him these side bangs .. please !! my baby would look so good w them. u could interpret this as an older ver of him,, tho hes still got that baby face

without the shine .. hehe .. he looks better like this .

[univemma]

I acknowledge that the season was cut almost in half so I should really cut them some slack but I WON'T, SO:

Plot holes/Forgotten Stuff in TUA:

(some of these are mostly just unanswered questions)

-Sloane?? Where tf did she go?

-Why was Jennifer (in the original timeline) in a cage? In Moldova?? Like, was she discovered to have something ( the dimaldo stuff whatever) inside of her, so they wanted to test on her? if she never came into contact with marigold before ben then why would they? WHAT

-also wait how the fuck did she get that stuff in her anyway? How did the dimaldo get to earth after it caused the end of Reginald's home planet? Like,,,shouldnt we know that?

-Her,,,in a squid??? she was Inside a giant squid? W h a t

-the S3 post credits of ben in the train. sure, whatever, that means nothing LMAOO

-I also can't get over - Five explaining "oh yeah when we do this EVERY ALTERNATE TIMELINE is gonna be destroyed, leaving only what should've been - the original," and lila fighitng to put her family in the train station,,,All the other timelines will be destroyed??They're dying and being reborn/reincarnated in the new one anyway GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING

(unless ive highly misunderstood that which is likely)

-this isnt a plot hole just - five "trying desperately over and over again to save his unhelpful family who he loves very very much" being literally turned into,,,that. did someone say character assassination?

-lila and five. thats a plot hole in and of itself I DONT CARE if he's aged 12 years from season 3, (6 yr timeskip at beginning of season, then 6 technically 7 in teh train), I DONT CARE IF HES 25 NOW, I DONT CARE IF HES MENTALLY 60 SOMETHING. Lila met and spent time with him when he looked like THIS

THATS A CHILD. and clearly, the family had SOME contact in the 6 yr skip, so she WATCHED HIM GROW UP from 13 - 19, like thats just so WEIRD WHAT

this was supposed to be plot holes and just turned into me being pissed im sorry but HOW DO YOU FUCK UP AN ENDING THIS BAD??