#everyone knows the implications..... everyones considering the implications......

[bluukive]

T.H.I.N.K

warnings - mdni, angst, Mandela Catalog inspired, Gojo turns into an alternate/he's been replaced, body horror, psychological manipulation, guns, sụicide mentions, implication of sụicide

wc - 1.4k

an - I don't recommend reading this if you struggle with anything in the warnings. Credits to Alex Kister for creating my fave piece of horror media and credits to lunarelles on IG for the banner

“This is a message for the citizens of Mandela County.”

Gojo was sprawled on the floor, and you were behind him on the couch with both legs dangling off of his broad shoulders. A hand curled into his white locks in an attempt to soothe—- you, him…both of you? You didn’t know, and it didn’t work. 

“If you see a person with biologically impossible characteristics, run away and hide.”

“Y’ever realise how weird it’s gotten? In this county, I mean. It’s too quiet,” Gojo murmurs, face impassive and illuminated by the static of the TV before you both.

“If you see another person that looks identical to you, run away and hide.”

Gojo’s voice was casual, as if he was trying to make light of the current situation. "Everyone’s acting weird, going missing… I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“Refrain from any kind of communication—”

A sigh left the taller man's lips. Neither of you were listening to the broadcast, too busy reminiscing of the lost days where you could trust your own minds. 

“DO NOT REVEAL YOUR FEARS. They CAN and WILL be used against you.”

“I just miss the old times. I’m scared of being replaced,” his voice drops lower as he leans his head back into your hands. You couldn’t blame him, but silence met his ears. What could you even say to him? You decided to leave him where he was and go to bed.

“Know your place in reality.”

The TV flickered once, twice, before its light fizzled out into darkness. Gojo stood by the TV for the remainder of the night.

“Kill yourself. There’s not enough room for the two of us.” 

--· --- -··     ·· ···     -· --- -     ···· · ·-· ·

The house you shared with Gojo was cold. That was what woke you up the next morning. It was the kind of cold that crawled under your skin and welded your joints together with a painful stiffness.

It was also quiet. Too quiet—unusual, considering that by now, Gojo would’ve been hollering from the kitchen for you to wake up and hand-feed him pancakes. But he wasn’t.

You rubbed your bleary eyes, wincing at the way your muscles screamed in protest at the slightest movement. But closing your eyes again felt wrong. The creeping sensation that the space around you was both occupied and observed made you shudder—like your body hadn’t caught up with the fact that your presence had already been overwritten. You shrugged off the feeling—maybe to your own detriment, and made your way out of the bedroom with the distinct awareness of eyes lingering on you every step of the way.

Gojo’s room was empty when you passed by. Strange, but maybe he’d felt the cold too. When you peered into the kitchen, he was already sitting there. Two bowls of cereal rested on the dining table. Untouched. No spoons.

He was too still for your liking. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing.

With a hesitant tap to his shoulder, you whispered his name.

Gojo didn’t react at first—his body tense, shoulders squared. There was no obvious hostility radiating off of him, but everything about him felt… off.

Then—

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there,” he said in a voice that wasn’t quite right. It sounded like someone playing a recording, his mouth just a fraction of a second out of sync.

And that fraction didn’t escape you.

“Why are you just sitting here, you weirdo?” you asked with a weak smile, nudging his shoulder lightly. Gojo craned his neck up to look at you. A smile formed on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His neck moved too far. It stretched unnaturally.

It took everything in you not to react.

“Sleep well?” he asked, beginning to eat his cereal with a spoon that—hadn’t been there before. Gojo raised his arm, dragging the utensil to his mouth like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Another smile. One with too many teeth.

You lied as you sat across from him, palms clammy, gaze fixed firmly on anything but him. “I slept fine, I guess. You?”

“I don’t sleep. Not when you’re gone,” Gojo said. His hands paused mid-air before lowering slowly, unnaturally. Like marionette strings loosening.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” you huffed, squinting your eyes and trying not to betray your increasing dread. He sounded like Gojo—he even acted like Gojo, spouting some bizarre statement like always. But your eyes weren’t lying to you.

“Oh, you know. You close your eyes, and you’re just… gone. I don’t like it when you do that.”

…

“Yeaaah, you’re definitely weird today, haha.” A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, blood rushing to your head far too quickly. “Just gonna… excuse myself.”

You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as that.

With a faux grin stretched across your face, you got up and headed back to your room—your last safe place.

--· --- -··     ·· ···     -· --- -     ···· · ·-· ·

The T.H.I.N.K principle. That was all you could think as the days went by. Praying didn’t work. After all, how could you seek solace from a God who had been replaced one of them? 

T - Tell an authority figure about your encounter H - Hinder the alternate's movement I - Identify the class type N - Neutralize the alternate (If safe to do so) K - Know your place in reality

The cold remained in your house, a place that no longer felt like home. It didn’t leave, and neither did ‘Gojo’. His laughter still bounced around the building. He would hum songs, ones that didn’t exist. He’d freeze in place, head bent at an unnatural angle as the memories of what once was began to fade away.

You weren’t blind. It was all an act meant to charm, meant to persuade you that, yes, everything was okay. Nothing had changed, and Gojo was still the man you came to love all those years ago. 

Except he wasn’t.

The last week was draining as you carried out a covert observation, all whilst mourning the loss of the original Gojo. It was agonising— quiet, choked sobs filling the increasingly hostile atmosphere of your bedroom when the sun had set. You had to accept it. He was gone, replaced. All by a type 1 doppelgänger— an exact replica of him consisting of the slightest of flaws that gives his cursed nature away. 

You sat there on your bed, door locked firmly shut as you thought back to the change in behaviours. The breakdown was rapid— seemingly harmless behaviours increasing in sheer absurdity to the point where your own safety was compromised. Gojo’s fingers twitched more frequently at first. His pupils stopped responding to light. Within days, Gojo stopped blinking all together, eyes refusing to dry out.  

That… thing, was wearing his skin. And he was staring at you from outside of his body. 

A heavy weight sat beside you, the metal cold as it served as a silent reminder of what you must do in the worst case (and rapidly approaching) scenario. Neutralise the alternate. 

But a cooing voice brought you out of your thoughts. You sat up straight, eyes flitting to your bedroom door. It sat slightly ajar, the hallway outside pitch-black.

Didn’t you lock it? 

It was as if all oxygen had been choked out of your body. You swallowed, heart seeming to thump steadily in your throat. 

“Open the do-door! I h-haa-have a sur-surprise for y-ou-you!”

A singular eye between the crack of the door came into view.

Then two

Three.

Four.

Five. 

Six blue eyes. 

Six blue eyes that were fixated solely on you. You shrieked, hands fumbling for the gun. Hold it like he taught you to. 

“Ge— get away from me, what are you?!” 

Tears dripped freely from your eyes, blurring your view as you held out the gun in front of you. Both arms shook violently, skewing your aim before you slumped against the bed in defeat. Had you been praying to the one you sought an escape from unknowingly?

“I ha-have a pres-pre-present for yo-you!”

No one was coming to help.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there on the bed, knees tucked to your chest and fingers wrapped around the cool steel. But you were definitely sitting there long enough for those tears to disappear the longer its voice called out of you. The only thing you felt now was acceptance. 

No one was coming to help. 

“I’m ending things on my terms, you bastard,” you hissed, picking up the gun once more. 

BANG!

…

Uh-oh! Bad decision, y/n!

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |27|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Thy Name is Jealousy

warnings: jealousy, references to past trauma, and water-related anxiety.

note(s): this is a pretty tame chapter considering the average chapter i'd put out.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson @serendippindots @mikuley @sleepyjackets @wnbawag @eatingouturmomrn

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The rhythm of your morning routine has become a lifeline—wake before dawn, collect the water containers, meet Mari at the treeline. Shauna watches from her makeshift butcher station, hands stained with yesterday's work, tracking your movements with the careful attention of someone cataloging threat assessments.

She knows about your fear of water. Remembers those late-night conversations from before, when Jackie would fall asleep first during sleepovers, leaving you and Shauna whispering in the darkness. You'd confessed it then—how the sound of rushing water made your chest tight, how you'd never learned to swim properly because even shallow pools felt like drowning waiting to happen.

Yet here you are, containers in hand, following Mari down the familiar path without hesitation.

The irony isn't lost on her. You, who once needed Jackie's hand to walk across the school's decorative bridge over the artificial pond, now willingly trek to the lake's edge every morning. For Mari. With Mari.

Shauna's knife pauses mid-stroke against the wooden cutting board she's fashioned from salvaged cabin debris. The blade catches morning light, throwing brief shadows across her work space—this small corner she's claimed as her own while others share their makeshift shelters. Privacy has become a luxury she hoards, especially when it allows her to observe undetected.

The way Mari's hand briefly touches your shoulder as you navigate the uneven ground doesn't escape her notice. How Mari positions herself between you and the water's edge when you fill the containers, creating a barrier that Shauna used to provide. The small considerations that speak to intimacy developed through shared routine.

"Fucking ridiculous," Shauna mutters under her breath, attacking the dried meat with renewed vigor. The knife strikes wood with each chop, a percussion of frustration she can't quite name.

Mari's laugh carries across the clearing—genuine, unguarded. The sound makes something twist in Shauna's chest, a recognition of the ease between you two that she remembers from before. Before the crash, before Jackie's death, before everything became survival and grief and the complex mathematics of staying alive.

You return from the lake with full containers, Mari steadying you when you stumble slightly under the weight. The gesture is automatic, practiced. Shauna's grip tightens on her knife handle.

"You're up early." Mari's voice carries as she approaches Shauna's station, leaving you to distribute the water among the others.

"Someone has to prep the food." Shauna doesn't look up from her work. "Unless you'd prefer to eat leather again."

"Just making conversation." Mari settles onto a nearby log, uninvited. "You've been... intense lately. More than usual."

Shauna's laugh is hollow. "Intense. That's rich, coming from someone who's been picking fights with everyone for weeks."

"I haven't been picking fights with everyone."

"No?" The knife stills. "Just me, then."

Mari's silence stretches long enough that Shauna finally looks up, meeting her gaze directly. There's something calculating in Mari's expression, a deliberate provocation that makes Shauna's jaw clench.

"You know what your problem is?" Mari's voice is deceptively casual. "You think you own people. Think they owe you something just because you've decided to care about them."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." Mari stands, brushing dirt from her pants. "Maybe try asking what people actually need instead of assuming you know."

The implication hangs between them, unspoken but clear. Shauna's knuckles whiten around the knife handle.

"At least I don't pretend to be something I'm not to get close to people."

Mari's smile is sharp. "And what exactly am I pretending to be?"

"Helpful. Selfless. Someone who gives a shit about anything other than—"

"Hey." Tai's voice cuts through the tension like a blade. She approaches with the measured steps of someone defusing a bomb. "Maybe we save the territorial pissing for when we're not all dependent on each other?"

Both women turn toward her, aggression temporarily redirected. Tai holds up her hands in a placating gesture.

"I'm just saying, whatever this is about, fighting each other isn't going to fix it."

"There's nothing to fix," Shauna says, voice tight with forced control. "Mari was just leaving."

"Was I?" Mari's eyebrows rise. "I thought we were having such a productive conversation."

"Mari." Tai's tone carries warning. "Come on. Help me check the snares."

For a moment, Mari looks like she might refuse. Then she shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. "Sure. Why not."

As they walk away, Shauna catches Mari's backward glance—not at her, but toward where you're methodically organizing supplies with the careful focus of someone avoiding drama. The look confirms what Shauna already knows, what neither of them will say aloud.

This isn't about survival strategies or resource allocation. It's about the quiet intimacy of shared morning routines, the way you trust Mari with your fear of water, the small surrenders that add up to something larger.

Shauna returns to her work with mechanical precision, each cut deliberate and measured. The meat yields beneath her blade, and she pretends not to notice how the sound of your voice, discussing hunting plans with Nat, carries on the morning air. Pretends not to calculate the distance between Mari's retreating figure and your oblivious presence.

The wilderness has taught them all to be territorial. To guard resources, to protect what keeps them alive. But some territories are harder to define than others, and some resources more precious than food or water or shelter.

Some wars are fought in glances and careful silences, in the space between what's said and what's understood. In the recognition that caring for someone doesn't guarantee their reciprocation, and that survival sometimes means watching from the sidelines while others step into the spaces you once occupied.

Shauna's knife finds its rhythm again, steady and sure. The morning stretches ahead, full of small observations and careful distances. Of watching you navigate the world with Mari's support, while she remains at her station, surrounded by the tools of survival and the weight of unspoken claims.

The meat under her blade separates cleanly, each piece falling into neat piles. Order imposed through violence, sustenance carved from necessity. It's a metaphor she doesn't examine too closely, focusing instead on the work at hand and the careful architecture of not caring too much about things beyond her control.

[bullseyelover]

random dex character analysis lol.

i’ve been thinking a lot about dex wearing the balaclava again in season 2 of born again and how strange that choice feels, especially considering everything he’s been through since season 3. in season 1, it makes sense. he was fresh out of the psych ward, still under vanessa’s control, and he believed the job was a one time thing. kill foggy and benjamin, and vanish. it was supposed to be clean, precise. so of course he wore the mask to protect his identity. he even threw a smoke bomb before entering josie’s not just to cause chaos, but probably to avoid being seen. it was meant to be surgical. like a professional hit.

but that’s not what happened. he doesn’t act like a methodical hitman in that scene, we know he is capable of being one but in this scene he’s not controlled. he’s unraveling. phil silvera (the stunt director for daredevil) said it himself that dex isn’t killing for the thrill, he’s killing anything he sees as a threat. at first, it’s just people with weapons. but he’s so on edge, so paranoid, that it spirals. soon, he’s killing people who haven’t even seen him. he’s trapped in this kill or be killed mindset, and the second someone flinches, he reacts. and when he finally snaps out of it just for a second he whispers, “what have you done?” like he blacked out. like he doesn’t even remember doing it. like he’s scared of what just happened because what was supposed to be a clean job had spiraled out of his control. but it doesn’t stop there. he keeps going because his body’s in survival mode. he doesn’t know what else to do.

then in season 2 he’s still wearing the balaclava. and yeah, visually i get it. the suit is striking. but narratively it doesn’t hold up. dex isn’t hiding anymore. everyone knows who he is. fisk knows, matt knows, the public knows. after the trial, his face and name are already tied to everything that happened at josie’s. his escape from prison was probably posted in the papers. there’s no anonymity left to protect. and honestly dex would want fisk to know it’s him. he want fisk to see his face while he tears his empire down. wearing the mask just feels off unless they’re gonna give us an in universe reason why. it can make sense considering the whole storyline with fisk hating vigilantes and people in masks and blah blah but he’d have to recreate that whole suit from scratch too. the old one would’ve been ripped up and in evidence custody.

it would actually be way scarier if dex didn’t wear a mask until he finally puts on the iconic bullseye mask from the comics. because when someone wears a mask to commit a crime, the implication is that they plan on people surviving. they’re hiding their identity for a reason. but someone like dex walking into a room with a knife and no mask, that’s terrifying. that means he doesn’t plan on leaving any witnesses. that means he doesn’t care if he’s recognized. that’s way more unhinged than anything else.

with dex wearing the balaclava you have to factor in his sensory issues. dex never wore a tie in season 3. his collars were always open, even in formal settings. to me, that’s a clear sign of sensory discomfort. and it tracks with him being neurodivergent, which we already know he is. the only time he ever wore tight clothing was the daredevil suit, and even that looked like it was pushing his limits. so wearing something like a balaclava which would be tight, hot, suffocating, that has to be overstimulating as hell. but maybe that’s the point. maybe it’s a way for him to punish himself. or maybe it helps him focus. it could be a kind of sensory grounding or even a trigger that helps him disassociate. like flipping a switch. putting on the mask could help him shut everything else out. turn into the version of himself that can kill then have a milkshake afterwards and not care about potential goodness, just revenge.

it makes sense when you realize he was going through withdrawal at josie’s. we saw the meds. that man was on at least eight pills, probably multiple times a day. a combo of SSRIs, benzos, antipsychotics, and mood stabilizers. not for healing, but for sedation. the system didn’t want to help him, they wanted to contain him. dull everything that made him him, but also what made him dangerous. and it worked. dex in episode 9 was barely responsive. sweaty, unfocused, dissociating out the window. couldn’t even hold a pen. he was being erased. and if vanessa hadn’t pulled him out, he would’ve stayed like that forever. but she didn’t save him, she just reactivated his pain.

dex going off all those meds cold turkey after nearly a decade would’ve been catastrophic both physically and mentally. we’re talking full system collapse. the benzos and antipsychotics alone would cause tremors, nausea, cold sweats, muscle cramps, disorientation, rebound paranoia, and emotional whiplash. his sleep would be wrecked, his coordination off. he’d probably be shaking, dizzy, hyper sensitive to noise and light. on top of that, he’s got to have chronic spinal pain from season 3, which the meds were likely numbing too so now it’s back in full force. and emotionally everything he’d been suppressing for eight years, the grief, the guilt, the rage, is coming back raw and unchecked. no regulation. no buffers. just pure nervous system overload. so when he walks into josie’s, he’s not walking in as a hired assassin. he’s walking in as someone with no brakes left. no filter between thought and action. it’s not all premeditated. it’s survival instinct. he’s scared. overstimulated. furious. and the second things go sideways, his brain goes straight to destroy the threat. and that’s what makes it so terrifying. he’s not in control. he’s reacting to a body and mind that’s been chemically shattered.

that’s what makes josie’s hit so messy. if he were in control, he could’ve just sniped foggy and vanished. clean and efficient. but that’s not what he does. he throws the smoke bomb, walks into the chaos, and kills two people immediately. he clearly dressed for a fight with his suit, knives, gloves but that doesn’t mean it was planned. he probably had less than two days between getting released and carrying out the hit. he had no time to recover. he was still in withdrawal. his brain chemistry was shot. physically, mentally, emotionally he’s fried. he’s walking into that scene running purely on instinct. just go, go, go. self preservation mode. there’s no grand plan.

but he has resentment, he says “hello, karen” like someone who hasn’t forgotten what she did. but that doesn’t mean he came there to go on a rampage. that part wasn’t intentional. it was triggered. and once it started, it couldn’t stop. and all of it. the withdrawal, the sensory overload, the fear, the rage gets projected into that suit. into that mask. into the version of himself who can’t feel anything but violence.

but he’s not bullseye yet. but he’s getting there. and maybe the scariest part is even he doesn’t know if he wants to stop. in season 2, dex wearing the same suit again but this time with a bullseye on the mask feels different. it’s not about hiding anymore. it’s not about the fisk’s orders. it’s about ownership. he’s not wearing the mask because he’s being used, he’s choosing it. and adding the bullseye symbol to the suit is his way of reclaiming everything that broke him. he wore the suit for vanessa at josie’s, but now he’s turning it into his own. whether that’s empowering or self destructive, it’s both. because for dex, violence and identity have always been intertwined. so putting a bullseye on his forehead is like saying fine this is what he is now. the fisks made him into this, so he’s gonna own it. even if it destroys him into becoming fully bullseye because maybe part of him thinks it’s the only identity that ever really fit even though deep down, he still doesn’t know who he is without someone else pulling the strings.

it’s important to remember that none of dex’s trauma, withdrawal, sensory issues, overmedication, or manipulation excuses what he’s done. not in season three, not at josie’s, not ever. he was always dangerous. even before fisk, dex was not an innocent man destroyed by a villain. he was already suffering and already volatile. he was already doing things that crossed lines. but he was trying. he had structure, he had control. he was holding himself together the only way he knew how. at the start of season three he could be considered an antihero. not someone good, but someone trying to be, in his own way. and that’s what makes his downfall so brutal. because fisk didn’t create the monster, he used what was already there. he took dex’s mental illness, his loneliness, his desperation for meaning and connection, and he weaponized it. he groomed him. exploited his pain. and then when dex outlived his usefulness, he threw him away.

but dex was always in control of his actions. he made the choices, even though he was manipulated into them and now he’s living with the consequences of them. understanding his story isn’t about excusing what he did it’s about seeing the full truth of who he is. after the events of season three, the court didn’t send him to prison. they sent him to a psychiatric facility. that tells you everything. they saw someone beyond punishment, someone they didn’t even think could be rehabilitated. not a man who needed help, but one who needed to be contained. to be silenced. sedated. erased.

and that’s what makes his return in born again so compelling and so tragic. because he’s not quiet anymore. season two could show us a man who’s clawing his way back to himself. not fully bullseye yet, not fully lost either. he wants revenge and autonomy. and if there’s a “good” way to get it, maybe he’ll take it. but if there’s not, he’ll burn every bridge without hesitation. dex should become a supervillain, that is what the character of bullseye needs to be. wilson bethel said dex’s arc is about redemption but not in the way you expect. and maybe that’s because real redemption for dex isn’t about being a hero, it’s about being honest. it’s about accepting who he is which is someone the system failed, someone who tried to be good, someone who was broken and used and manipulated but who still gets up. who still fights. but not to be a hero, but to be truly and unashamed in who he is.

[just-spacetrash]

text so good its got me writhing

[juniemunie]

If we're not giving up, don't give up wherever you are.

That's a promise.

[northern-passage]

[hopeswriting]

imagine you're luce, and you're born the heir to a mafia family. you're mafia-born, and so of course also mafia-raised, and then also a donna-to-be. you're raised to be able to take on the role, to be good and capable at it, are taught to make one of your core beliefs about how the many must come before the few, because the family must always come first. you're going to be the donna, of course you must always prioritize the family above all else, it's your foremost and most important duty.

if caring about the few too comes at the price of the many, comes at the price of the family, is it even worth it? if the happiness gained from it comes at the price of a greater suffering for others, is there even any meaning to it, even if it's your happiness we're talking about? you understand, don't you?

you're not sure if you do, but you care about your family, love it, want to do right by it once you become their donna, so you nod, listen and learn.

(you don't have to be taught the pain and loss and guilt and anger and bitterness is a fair price to pay for the pain you decide has to be inflicted and the sacrifices you decide must be made, including by yourself. it's the least you could do, even.)

imagine you're luce, and the gift of foresight runs through your blood.

you would not call it a gift. you did not ask for it either. and you'll never come to see it as something wanted by you.

you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course it's exactly the way you wanted it to go. you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course you didn't care to try hard enough to change it. you saw the future before the shape of it had yet to be breathed into existence, and who's to say it didn't come into existence only because you saw it happen? you saw the future, and it happened worse than it had to for it.

you can see the future, but you still can't make it anything else than what it was always going to be. you can even make the visions happen at your will, but you still have no say on what you see or how much you see. you still can only be the witness of it before anyone else can.

it does mean double and longer the happiness sometimes, means relief and gratefulness and hope beyond words, and it'd be cruel of you to voice out loud your feelings for others to hear the many more times it means something else.

you can see the future, and it doesn't make it any kinder on you than on anyone else, does not give you any more power or control over it than anyone else, but at least you can see the future. you're given the time to make peace with it, to brace yourself for it, to bargain with it, to plead and beg and fight against it however desperately and hopelessly, even if in the end it still happens exactly as you saw it would.

(you can see the future, and it still doesn't hurt you any less than anyone else when it happens, but you don't expect anymore for anyone to hold you any less responsible for it anyway. it would be nice for someone to do it one day, but you understand.)

you can see the future, and you decide it's a kindness to both yourself and others to keep it for yourself as much as possible whenever you can.

imagine you're luce, and your family has this set of rings they've looked after and protected for as long as your family has existed. they're one set of three of the most important artifacts in the world, ones that help in safeguarding its existence and balance. they're duty, the very first one and the most important one your family was created for.

the pacifier around your mother's neck is duty too, and the most important and powerful artifact among twenty-one in safeguarding the world and its balance. it's been passed down in your family too, from mother to daughter. it's duty, but less tied to your family and much more to the blood running through your veins. it's a curse, in fact, as it demands heavy sacrifices the rings don't, and one that can only be tied to the blood running through your veins.

(your mother looks at you as if expecting some kind of reaction from you, and you can only wonder at which point you weren't supposed to see it as a given. duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for a long time now. is it even duty if it doesn't require any sacrifices from you?)

imagine you're luce, and your mother dies for duty. she's the donna, and so she dies for your family. she's the sky arcobaleno, and so she dies for the world. she's your mother, but she dies anyway, doesn't fight it either, even knowing she will leave you behind, even knowing she won't ever get to see what you look like all grown-up.

everywhere you look, duty stares back at you, from your mother and the pacifier around her neck, her love for your family and the life she gives up for it, her love for you and how she dies anyway while you're still only a child. duty, from your family members and how they die for you and kill for you, how they do both at your command, how their lives are in the palms of your hands and how they weigh only as much as you allow them to at a time. duty, from the knowledge your foresight gives you and the shackles tied to the blood running through your veins.

your mother's only duty while she lives too. she loves you, but she'd have had to give birth to you anyway even if she didn't. she loves you, but she still gave birth to you even knowing the kind of life you'd have to live, the kind of hands you'd inevitably end up with, the burdens she'd have to lay on your shoulders, passing them down from her own. because she loves you, she finds the resolve to raise you to be able to face all of it head-on and come out on top, but she'd have had to raise you much the same way anyway even if she didn't.

(she doesn't die for you, doesn't fight to be able to keep living with you, and this, too, is your mother surrendering to duty one last time.)

(you're so sick of it, so angry at it, so hateful and resentful against it. you're so stifled by it to the point you've stopped being able to breathe for a long time now. or you would have been if they had taught you how to face duty in this way too.

it's for the better they didn't. a silver lining, sparing you pain that isn't necessary for you to go through. everyone you turn to only teaches you how to keep holding your breath longer, and you listen and learn, obedient and dutiful as you've ever been.

you're grateful for it too. really, you are.)

everywhere you look, there's no room for you to so much as question any of it, let alone anything more. duty is commendable, something you ought to look up to and strive towards, strive to achieve. duty is the right thing to do. of course it is.

(you exhale a breath of relief that shakes you down to your very core.

thank god, it's at least the right thing to do.

you're grateful for it beyond words. really, you are.)

imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know the choice you'll make when climbing that mountain, when standing on top of it, when waiting for a bright light to shine down on you from above. you know the choice you'll make then, even when pregnant with your daughter.

it doesn't matter since how long you knew, be it years, months, days, hours or minutes before. all that matters is that before you can even contemplate the idea of making another choice and all its implications and possible consequences, before the thought can even come alive in your mind, you already know the choice you'll make.

(you can see the future, but just because you already saw it, it doesn't mean it's now set in stone.

you can see the future, but just because you're given the chance to fight to change it, it doesn't mean it still won't happen every bit like you saw it.

it doesn't mean it can't still happen even worse than how you first saw it happen because you fought to change it, no matter how already dreadful it originally was.)

imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know they'll be others with you standing on top of that mountain. you're the only one who'll know it before it happens.

(because you can see the future.

and oh, you did not ask for it.)

they're strangers, people you don't owe anything to. adults who choose to show up at the first meeting, and to show up to every following mission after that. the chosen seven, whose ambitions and prides lead them to walk the path of the seven strongest too once laid down in front of them.

you don't force their hands in making any of those choices for them. you're not responsible for any of them.

you become coworkers then, accomplices, your hands stained in blood to various extent, but now dipping in the same pool of blood as you strive towards the same goal together. you have each other's backs, learn each other's strengths and weaknesses, learn each other's personalities, likes and dislikes. you keep having to spend more time together as the missions keep coming your way.

inevitably, you come to care about them. even more damning, they come to care about you in return. enough so they'll look after your daughter even after what'll happen on top of that mountain. enough so they'll look after your granddaughter too, warmly and fondly enough she'll call one of them uncle.

you're still the only one who knows they'll stand together with you on top of that mountain, not knowing what'll happen on it like you do.

and you do care about them, you swear you do. really, you do.

(you care about them the same way your mother cared about you, and how she still raised you to have steel in you and be made of sharp edges you know how to use. you care about them the same way you care about your family, and how you still send them to their deaths as needed so the rest of your family you care about just the same can keep on living longer and safely. this is the only way you've had the chance to learn how to care and love.

duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for as long as you can remember. it doesn't matter at which point sacrifices came to mean love to you too.

and most of all, you love your daughter more than anything else in the world.)

imagine you're luce, and this is who you are. this is who you've been raised to be, the only way you've been given room to grow up to be. this is the life you've lived and the kind of life that has shaped you as the person you are now. this is what you've been taught and told is the best version of yourself you could have grown up to be. this is who you ended up being by what you've been taught and told are all the right choices to make.

you're still the only one who knows what is about to happen on top of that mountain. it hasn't happened yet. the fate of the world hangs on what'll happen on top of that mountain, the same world you'll have to give birth to your daughter in. the same daughter you're currently pregnant with.

now imagine you're luce, look me in the eye and tell me you'd know how to even form the thought of the possibility of there being any other choice to make. look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't look at the only choice in front of you, and know deep in your bones it's the only right choice to make. that it is right of you to make it. because it simply has to be.

(imagine you're luce, and you're not doomed by the narrative. of course, you're not.

why would you need to be when the narrative has painstakingly shaped you all your life to become its perfect, faithful and dutiful sacrificial lamb?

and then, imagine you're luce, and you're even grateful for it, so, so very grateful it held up its end of the bargain too.

truly, you are.)

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

i have been mostly twirling my hair and sighing dreamily over Rook X Lucanis but i really did just put my girl in perhaps the worst JustNoMIL situation imaginable

[hana-bobo-finch]

i want so badly to go way too in depth into bug fables biology. so many questions. i must make a PowerPoint presentation immediately

[double--cross-d]

Hate how everyone's proposing Kinger will abstract next when this tweet from Gooseworx implies Jax is probably next

[nenoname]

wait did people actually interpret the stan o war ending as them not going back to gravity falls for a few months every year and instead as them only ever staying on the boat?? i thought that them staying for summers or just regular breaks + them constantly having video chats with family and friends was something everyone just assumed lol

(people tend to forget their motto of 'growing old doesn't mean growing up' too huh)

[blueskiesandstarrynights]

I'm rotating this ep in my head. I'm considering these interesting changes. I'm intrigued. I don't quite know if I like them yet but I'm still thinking.

[todayisafridaynight]

SORRY I MEANT TO FOLLOW UP EARLIER but I got caught up in talking about The One And Only Thing I've ever added to Jo's backstory and gotten invested in so I lost track of time 😭BUT NO YEAH GOING THROUGH THE LIST WAS A 10/10 EXPERIENCE... I just really enjoy your commentary and seeing your takeaways so I don't need anything In-Depth to have a good time, even just finding out what your faves are is pretty neat; as a guide I definitely think it sells the works while setting realistic expectations overall :] On That Note would love to hear your thoughts on the movie!

LMAO YOU'RE GOOD i wasn't expecting a follow up anyhow so it's alright :]

and im glad the list was enjoyable. i suppose LMAO AGAIN i tried not to go too much into things so my thoughts are relatively sparse (because rest assured i have PLENTY of notes on everything i've seen but i didn't want the thing to be 100 pages long (╯▽╰ ) ) but as long as it gets the job done then that's fine with me:)

OH BUTTHE MOVIE YAYAYA I WATCHED THE CORRECT ONE THIS TIME LMAOOO IT WAS EPIC definitely enjoyed it A LOT and was a really great way to end the series !! again i love the sound design and track and i esp loved the music that played when the team was working out how to sneak into the house of representatives (i've noticed that bitches LOVE acoustic guitars in this series and While Unexpected it works SOOOO good)

the whole Handcuff Bit with inoue still gets me like My Brother In Christ How Long Have You Worked Here BUT I ALSO GET IT. AND ALSO WHEN HE WENT TO ARREST OGATA AND OF COURSE DIDN'T HAVE ANY CUFFS... GIRL I DIED FR...

anyway 11/10 movie SOOO glad you directed me to it LMAO

[creatingblackcharacters]

Well!

So first, let's clear a common misconception: no, President Abraham Lincoln did not love Black people nor see them as human equals. At best he was centrist about it (though, even his implication that 'exceptional' Black men ought to vote got him assassinated).

"My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and is not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do, it, and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone I would also do that. What I do about slavery, and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save the Union...I have here stated my purpose according to my view of official duty; and I intend no modification of my oft-expressed personal wish that all men everywhere could be free."

The "freeing of slaves" after the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863 was meant to kneecap the economic and military powers of the seceded South. Lettuce stop making a white savior figure out of Lincoln, or thinking that my people's shackles were unchained via anything other than desperate war strategy and extreme violence. Think on that, for a moment.

That being said!

But not everyone in Confederate territory would immediately be free. Even though the Emancipation Proclamation was made effective in 1863, it could not be implemented in places still under Confederate control. As a result, in the westernmost Confederate state of Texas, enslaved people would not be free until much later. Freedom finally came on June 19, 1865, when some 2,000 Union troops arrived in Galveston Bay, Texas. The army announced that the more than 250,000 enslaved black people in the state, were free by executive decree. This day came to be known as "Juneteenth," by the newly freed people in Texas.

Consider going through the Smithsonian website to learn about Juneteenth! Recognize why it's an actual day of freedom, versus July 4th and the independence of a select few.

[lesbianraskolnikov]

Rodya truly is a character ever i truly adore him sorryy. So well done. I love u. Im ignoring the epilogue chapter 2 though

[overthinkinglotr]

I’m obsessed with the bit in the Hobbit films where Thranduil tells Legolas to go find Aragorn— because if you care enough to dive through the layers of obscure knowledge it takes to understand the timeline, then you’re also the exact kind of LOTR Film Nerd who knows why the moment actually doesn’t make sense.

Tiny brain: “oh cool Legolas will find Aragorn”

Small brain: “ummm actually in the first Hobbit film it says that The Hobbit take place 60 years before Bilbo’s 111th birthday in lord of the rings? So wouldn’t Aragorn be a baby?”

Medium brain: “ummm actually if you watched the extended cut of The Two Towers, it’s made clear that Aragorn is a descendant of Numenor who has an abnormally long lifespan. He is 87 at the time of Lord of the Rings; 60 years earlier, he was 27, a very reasonable age for him to have made a name for himself as a ranger.”

Large Brain: “Ummmm actually in the book it’s confirmed that there’s a twenty-year gap between Bilbo’s 111th birthday party disappearance to Frodo leaving the Shire with the Ring. The Hobbit quest happened 60 years before Bilbo’s famous birthday party. 87-60-20=7 years old. Aragorn would be a lil guy. He would not yet be Strider, the timeline makes no sense.”

Giant brain: “ummm actually the screenwriters have confirmed that the 20 year gap is not canon in the film’s universe. First, it’s really not portrayed as a 20-year-gap in the films— it’s written and shot as if it were a couple months. The screenwriters were also aware of the implications of removing it. For example, in a behind the scenes commentary they discussed how their portrayal of Frodo is much younger than the version in the book —because they removed the 20-year gap. Film!Frodo is an innocent youth going out on his own for the first time, in contrast to the book’s more mature adult— and that deeply affects his characterization throughout the trilogy.

We can consider Legolas’s journey to meet Strider an official canon confirmation that the 20-year gap did not happen in the film’s universe. So the timeline makes sense!”

Galaxy brain: “okay, but even if the timeline works with the LOTR films, this new backstory doesn’t work with the LOTR films’ portrayal of Legolas’s character.

In the Hobbit films, it’s retconned that Legolas went to find Aragorn because he was so overwhelmed by all the death he witnessed in the Battle of the Five Armies. It’s retconned that he has a mother who died when he was young, and a grief-stricken father, and that he’s constantly Angsting over both. it’s also retconned that Legolas was in unrequited love with a grieving woman who loved a dwarf tragically killed in battle. Legolas feels he can no longer stay in the Woodland Realm because of all this loss, which is why he decides to find a new purpose with Aragorn.

But in the Lord of the Rings films, part of Legolas’s character arc is that he’s witnessing death and mortality up close *for the first time in his immortal life.* He’s a fae magical immortal who’s not used to death affecting him personally. This character arc is unique to the films. (it is not reallllllly in the books, and doesn’t jive with the way Tolkien writes elves in general— but it is the way the films chose to rewrite Legolas’s storyline. )

film!Legolas reacts to Gandalf’s death with bewilderment, acting lost, as if he’s experiencing emotions that are entirely new to him. This acting decision is discussed explicitly in behind the scenes materials. Legolas has rarely encountered this kind of death, not in a way so close to him personally, so it’s hard for him to even comprehend. Legolas’s unfamiliarity with mortal death continues through Boromir’s death and into the Two Towers, where he gradually grows more worried over the lives of Aragorn/ the people of Rohan. He reacts with bewildered anger when told to leave Aragorn for dead, and then lashes out at Aragorn when he thinks that everyone at Helm’s deep will die (only to receive the response: “then I shall die as one of them.”)

This character arc ends in Return of the King, with a famous bit of dialogue that does not appear in the books. Gimli says he “never thought he’d die side by side with an elf,” and Legolas cheerfully responds “what about side by side with a friend?” Mortal death goes from something Legolas finds distant/unfamiliar, to something he accepts as a natural part of living among mortals.

This is similar to the changes the films make to Arwen’s character, vs the original book. In the films, both of the “young” elves have arcs about encountering death up close, and yet continuing to love the mortal world. The films contrast them with the “older” wearier elves like Elrond and Galadriel. Obviously this theme is more of a focal point in Arwen’s plotline, but it’s also relevant to Legolas. (And! In early drafts of the Two Towers, Arwen joined Aragorn at Helm’s Deep— I have a theory that the scenes where Legolas worries over Aragorn’s death were originally written for Arwen.)

So!

if you care enough about the Lord of the Rings films to understand that “there is no twenty year gap,” that Frodo is a young ingenue instead of middle-aged adult, that the films have their own storyline/characters/timeline separate from the books, and that therefore the timeline of Legolas meeting Strider can make sense …

….then you also probably care that Legolas had a specific character in the LoTR films, and this new backstory contradicts it.

Giving Legolas a new core motivation where “he’s overwhelmed by angst/grief from encountering too much death” undercuts his entire characterization in LOTR, which was meant to be about encountering mortal death up close for the first time. It also cheapens really impactful moments from LOTR— like Orlando Bloom’s performance after the death of Gandalf, where he really captures the idea that this fae immortal is struggling to comprehend the ordinary human emotion of grief.

And that’s why so many critics get that moment in The Hobbit wrong XD. People always try to critique it from a timeline/continuity perspective, when in reality, the timeline continuity makes perfect sense!!! The actual problem is the way it poorly attempts to retcon Legolas’s entire characterization. And IMHO that’s a much more serious flaw than a continuity error. It’s not “making a math mistake,” it’s undercutting the meaning of Legolas’s story in LOTR.

Super Mega Galaxy Brain: “nothing in the hobbit films is canon except the pieces I like”