#i rant about all my issues in depth on tumblr BECAUSE i know better than to dump all that onto my friends who are already struggling

[mainfaggot]

how do you cut someone off

[prettyinpwn]

I saw your post in the Ford tag and gotta say: I have heard stories about the times when Ford was commonly disliked, and I can't imagine living through that 😭 I joined the fandom right before Lost Legends came out, and I only ever came across one blog still posting about disliking Ford. He is my favorite character from any media ever. Welcome back to tumblr, I'm glad you get to experience the fandom finally giving Ford all the love and appreciation he deserves

Come and sit near the fire, youngster. Let old Grandma PiP tell ya stories about the good old days...

But yeah, both Ford and Mabel got lots of angry rants in those days. To be honest, most of them were made out of love for Stan (because Ford did treat him like garbage at points) and Dipper (because people perceived that he gave up way more for Mabel than vice versa).

But it kinda sucked because oh man, here was our theory son finally getting his time to shine. And what was even better is that he was just as awesome as we'd hoped he'd be. We'd always thought he'd be a giant nerd like Dipper but also a badass because of his getting lost in the portal (though we were wrong about some things - like him being the author and not McGucket, what he was doing before he was lost, why he and Stanley fought, that his name was Stanford and Grunkle Stan was Stanley, etc).

He was my favorite character the moment he walked out of that portal and showed his face (well, kind of before that, given much of my blog was posting headcanons/theories about him before he was revealed, but nothing was canon yet so it was all what-ifs - we never knew if we’d actually like him or not until he had screentime). 

And then I get online to see how other people responded... and it was not good. Granted, some like me loved him and many had their minds blown with the reveal, but he got a lot of flack. Even legit anger. I remember thinking, “Damn, I know we all love Stan to bits, but give Ford some slack! Give him time to shine and make it up to Stan.”

To be honest, I think had he had more screen time, especially more scenes from what was described in the physically released Journal 3 and Lost Legends, people would have liked him more from the outset. I’m still of the opinion that the story in the latter half of S2 feels rushed, and as much as I love this show and appreciate the effort put into it, I think Ford suffered for it.

Stan, Mabel, and Dipper got two seasons to shine. He got half of one, and a few episodes of that half didn’t even involve him much or at all (cough Roadside Attraction cough). And what we do see of him is punching Stan, talking about their broken relationship, telling Stan that the Mystery Shack has to go, him giving Dipper a mind control device, him explaining how he worked with Bill, and him inviting Dipper on a path away from Mabel. The few positive scenes we saw were in DDaMD and his heroic actions in the finale episodes.

He gets fleshed out way more in supplementary materials and, upon reading those, I think he arguably can be seen as the best character in terms of growth and depth (though Stan rivals him closely in this area imo).

I would love to do a whole Ford character analysis post at some point soon, because the way they wrote him is worthy of a closer look. He’s heavily flawed, but that’s what makes his arc and story all the more satisfying, and interesting to examine. A flawed character is a good character from a writing perspective, and like you, he’s been cemented as my favorite character in all media ever so far because of it. 

He had an arguably abusive father, deep insecurity and ego issues, pride that shattered his relationships and led him to push people away, made many mistakes, was intelligent but easily manipulated, and had to accept that - as much as he wanted to be a hero - it was Stan who was the true hero... But even so, he found redemption and happiness in the end. He’s still a broken man and still has flaws, but like I said: his growth arc? Amazing. He’s also relatable to me on a personal level because I’ve struggled with many of the above issues in my own life.

I am like 99.99% sure Hirsch will never return to Gravity Falls, but if he does in some form, it would be great to see a mini series or comic or [insert thing here] with Ford as a main protagonist, be it his story between getting to Gravity Falls and being shoved into the portal, his portal adventures, or his adventures with Stan after the main series. I know we’ve seen summaries or hints of these time periods, but man, with how little screentime he got in the show, I think fans would gladly go for it.

I also think it would be great to explore his and Stan’s stories in material that’s allowed to be more adult. Gravity Falls gets away with an astonishing amount of darkness for being a Disney show, but I think something targeted for an older audience would allow for greater delving into these dark aspects of Ford and Stan’s lives, like breaking generational trauma and family cycles, how to mend long-broken familial relationships, reflecting back on major regrets in your life, morality in the face of survival (if Ford’s portal days are ever explored more in-depth), etc. 

But Disney owns the rights so if they’d be up for that... not sure. I’m not saying make it Rick and Morty or Inside Job level adult, but somewhere between the original series and those shows. The fandom is older now, and if Stan and Ford were the protagonists, it’d make sense to age up the target audience, as well.

[pr1ncessm00n]

Update!!

Hi, everyone!! thank you so much for all the support and compassion. i'm sorry i've been kinda MIA for two days lol. that's kind of shitty of me to just not drop an update on Sunday and then disappear. but here's an in depth explanation as to wtf i've been doing and whats going to happen!! tw: heartbreak, depression, academic struggles

so obviously most of my chapter got deleted. i am actually almost done with rewriting it and i think it shaped out to be better than what i had previously written. i think by at least the end of the week it should be out, and it's VERY long just to make up for sunday's non update!! so i've been working a lot but thankfully my days off start tomorrow. i have a lot fo academic stress bc of some personal issues regarding my school quite literally fucking my schedule up and pushing my estimated graduation date back by oh... a few fucking months! great! literally hate that !! so ive been running around like a headless chicken trying to fix what wasn't my fault. sigh, i guess it should be resolved in a week or so, but as you can imagine i am so stressed about it. what makes me angrier is that it was not my own error. like to have to fix an issue that i did not cause?? i swear the staff at my school makes our experience harder not easier.

secondly, don't be fooled lol. i am writing this with tears down my face listening to harry styles and the aot season 3/4 theme song endings on repeat for almost 30 minutes because i had to end my 4 year relationship. that's a whole story for another day, but i don't think i will be okay mentally for a long time. he was my best friend and my first real love, so yeah. i might make our own love story into a fic or something just to cope but as for now thats another thing i have to deal with now!! my heart hurts a lot !! it's always the things you least expect. the worst part is it really isn't either of ours faults... or choice. i don't want to go into too much detail because even tho he's not on here and y'all don't know him, i want to respect his privacy. but the main reason is he has become very depressed, and even though i tried to help him as much as i could theres just some things you can't fix as a partner. i wish so much that i could take his pain away but i can't, i just can't.

sorry for that weird rant lol. it was a mutual decision, but it still hurts regardless lol. he was my bestfriend and lover in one, and i don't know how im going to continue my boring routine without him lol. but don't worry, i'll still be writing. if anything i'll probably write more. it distracts me, soothes me and is. great outlet. i don't plan on abandoning tumblr anytime soon lol.

thank you all so much for the support you guys are seriously the best group of people/fandom space i have witnessed in all my years as a fangirl. and i was around for 2014 tumblr so thats saying something. you guys have motivated me a lot to write more and improve, and i actually feel heard on this tiny blog (altho u have managed to make it not so tiny any more in the span of such a short few months?? im literally at 420 followers and i was at 300 a few weeks ago?? wow. im also about to hit 500 notes oh god.) you guys have literally given me so much inspiration and im so grateful for the friendships ive made already!! i have plenty of requests in my inbox to work on as well. im also creating a tag system so stay tuned!!

anyways, i feel so blessed to have such attentive followers and readers and you guys literally make me laugh everyday. its not just about notes or followers to me, but its so amazing how through tiny screens we can all share our love for some 2d characters and how for some reason my writing has struck a nerve with some of you. i love you all <3

emi

[rahleeyah]

This last anon you answered got me thinking about why so many of us keep going back to twitter, even when we openly admit to feeling better after taking long breaks, or call it toxic or are affected by w/e the drama of the week (day?) happens to be. I'm sorry if this seems out of place, but since this is neither the first nor second time you bring up these issues, I figured I might as well share my thoughts here with you.

I can only speak from my own experience, so I'm sure what I'm about to say doesn't apply to everyone. I'm sure a lot of people manage to find great friends over there and enjoy the best that twitter has to offer. In fact, most days I feel like I do a decent job at filtering what I pay attention to over there. But still, there are days, those really bad, depressing, 'the world sucks and I just wanna escape it for a bit' days, when I feel myself being pulled into whatever bad spiral is going on at the moment. Yesterday was one of those, tbh, and I had to stop and ask myself why? Why do I still feel the need to keep going back to a site that more often than not leaves me feeling anxious and upset?

The answer isn't very flattering, tbh, and I might regret sharing this here, but I realized it's not the tweets or the likes or the mentions I'm craving. It's just, you know, somewhere to share my love for these characters/shows with other ppl like me. And that's where y'all tumblr ppl come in and say "why, join us over here where it's calmer and friendlier and slower." I believe you, Leah, because your blog is the perfect example of that. It's such a pure, honest representation of the very best sides of fandom, and you know it's true, since you're always drowning in asks lol. But, damn, it's not quite for me... Maybe it's bc I'm not much of a visual person, so gifs and pictures don't really grab my attention for long? Or, more likely, it's bc it takes time and dedication to shape a blog, and the sheer anxiety I feel every time I decide to put anything out into the wild west that is the internet makes it much easier to do so in short bursts of 280 characters or less. Idk...

Whatever the case may be for other twitter users who, like me, keep using twitter even when it makes them anxious, I have to believe that at least a few of them share my desire for connection. And it sucks that I've been there for months, and the 'friendships' I made are superficial at best. But from the little I gathered from observing other users, many many people feel alienated or left out while 'everyone else is friends with each other'. Some people really are, probably, but it's really hard to tell when we're all 'besties' forever reacting to the latest piece of news that just dropped, be it real or fabricated, don't ya think?

I'm sorry for this rant and for how long it ran... I guess I just wanted somewhere to go a bit more in depth about the seemingly neverending chaos, what with the way it often ends up making it's way to your asks, regardless of your advice to just. not. go. there.

---

This is a submission from @unusualcliches

First I want to thank you for sharing this with me friend. I'm really glad you felt comfortable enough to come here and talk bc it's important that we have places where we can say what's on our mind.

And I wanna apologize, bc I was sort of flippant with my comment about staying off Twitter. I wanna make it very clear I don't hold anything against the people who prefer to use it and I'm not actually recommending that no one go there. Everybody is looking for different things and has different ways of engaging and of course people are gonna have preferences, and those preferences are gonna vary from mine, and that's ok!!

We all want community and Twitter does offer that more easily. I said this in a moment that got edited out of the podcast but I can't imagine trying to get started on Tumblr now. I have made some profound, life changing relationships here, but that took work, and time. I've been shaping my blog for over a decade. Starting from scratch now feels like a herculean task and I totally understand why this platform wouldn't suit everybody's needs.

I am not gonna advocate for people continuing to use social media if it's negatively impacting them, if it's generating feelings of anxiety or isolation, but I am also not gonna judge you or anyone for continuing to do so bc we all do things we maybe shouldn't, or that aren't good for us, big or small, all the time. It's human. It's understandable. We see something that we want, that maybe could be good for us, and we keep coming back in the hope that even if it wasn't good to us the last time, it will work out now. I'm not gonna fault you for that.

Twitter has the ability to connect people quickly, easily, openly; it is much, much easier to find people there. But bc it moves so fast, it's hard to make those connections last. There are people there who post these pictures and share these stories and have clearly found their in-group and that's wonderful! But it's rare. It's rare here, too, rare anywhere; it's a needle in a haystack, really, finding the person or persons out of such a big group who will be your people. You send a lot of DMs that don't go anywhere before you find the one that sticks. But bc Twitter is so public, I think we see more of those connections than you see here on Tumblr. On Twitter it's so visible, you see "oh it's possible to find your people here, look they did it" but you don't see all the times it didn't work out. Like Instagram; you're seeing the shiniest parts of people's lives and not the work it took to get there.

All this to say, it's completely understandable that you feel this way, and I won't blame you for going back even if it's burned you before. It's an act of hope, really. I make the choice not to spend a lot of time there, but that's my choice for myself, and it's not up to me to make that choice for anyone else. I hope you do get something good out of it.

[noisycitrine]

Re Riz's brutality: nodnodnod There is absolutely nothing better than a character that goes from bleeding-heart, sweetheart, to brutal killer at the snap of a finger.

Re, the three sisters: I assure you I had rage fit, I spent nearly half an hour ranting at my friends, while comparing raw manga page and localization. Somehow, the localization used the word 'adoption' despite being nowhere to be found in the original text, and that caused a huge misunderstanding to happen in the english fandom. A lot of things; like the three sisters' potential make sense, if they are Isabeau's actual, blood daughters. Princesses have lot of karmic potential than orphans, especially if their mother is, well, Isabeau. A lot of things get a lot more heartbreaking too; Corbeau very obviously excluding Isabeau from her many declarations of protections? She knows the actual Isabeau is already lost, having used Fleche's wish to attempt to restore the real Isabeau's sanity, but failing. Lapin's nonchalance? Same reason. Only Minou who does not know the real Isabeau. You know, the actual loving, kind Isabeau, who Corbeau and Lapin praise endlessly and reminisce fondly about their memories with her, in Minou's MSS. Minou, hilariously, getting worried and growing suspicious of Corbeau, thinking her the Maiden prophesized to bring the end to Isabeau is a lot more tragic in hindsight. Miscommunication galore right there. Does not help that Minou's wish links her mind to the witch Isabeau either.

That is why I love love love Tart 4 event. I love watching the sisters actually affirming their love and support for one another.

Re: "in tart’s case because there’s a WAR, and in riz’s case because she’s afraid to lose her. so despite it being at arm’s length… it’s still nice to have someone that close, and let them be that close, even if it’s not as close as you COULD be. it’s the closest they’ve felt."

Okay, had my screaming fit to see that Hesitation piece on tumblr again......Then I zeroed on what I quoted like hungry cat. ''in Tar's case, because there is war...'' I shall freely interpret this as Tart being her sweet, idealistic self and had this entire plan to help Riz open up and I dunno, maybe travel around the world post-war? See Riz's homeland? (Speaking of Riz's homeland, do you ever think of Riz's doppel and cry over how many reference to Italy it has? Birth of Venus, Carnival of Venice, Hawkwood's coat of arm...I love how detailed her doppel is)

"it’s still nice to have someone that close, and let them be that close, even if it’s not as close as you COULD be. it’s the closest they’ve felt."

Can already imagine Riz thinking herself some sort of bad luck charm oaigepaogj puts RWBY Bad Luck Charm on survivor and guilt complexes are hella of a nightmare, especially in medieval time where treatment is impossible to get....It makes sense why Yachiyo, who suffers the same issue, is the one to connect with Riz in Tart 1....That is pretty thoughtful of the staff ngl.

*Waves Tart 4 supremacy flag* LET THEM CONNECT ON EMOTIONAL LEVEL WITHOUT ALL THE TRAUMA PLEASE GOD I NEED THEM TO BE HAPPY

best character archetype fr 🙏🙏🙏 love riz hawkwood

now that you point out karmic potential of princesses, i stand corrected!!! you��re right!!! i wish masu wasn’t so weird about then being sisters :((( it’s the only aspect of tart magica that i actively dislike LOL

god you’re RIGHT though. i love the sisters so much, it gives a lot of depth to their character!!!! they think theyre doing the right thing and protecting each other… BUT ALAS… ONE LIKES THEIR MOTHER MORE…

event 4 genuinely FLOORED me. my buddy and i thought it was gonna be a funny little romp but walked out genuinely invested in minou’s character. dude i remember being told it’s just a slice of life about them putting on a play can you imagine the SHOCK we had about what it REALLY WAS

good event… good event… even if all riz did was eat honey gallette. it’s what she DESERVES!!!!

re: hesitation

YES A MILLION TIMES YES i like to think tart was ABSOLUTELY planning on travelling the world with riz afterwards!!! i like to think throughout the manga she had that brand of religious guilt that it wasn’t so important amodst the bigger things (the war, god’s chosen monarch,etc) but internally… it’s all she ever wanted. GAH i LOVE TART

riz’s doppel is my FAVORITE DOPPEL!!! i have more thoughts on it but i’m about to be late for work lol

AND FOR SURE!!! yachiyo and riz genuinely are such a good duo, also a good ship. really bigbrained move on the writer’s part there. love me some survivors guilt

ANYWAY IM RUNNING LATE TO CAFE JOB. I’LL DEFINITELY STEW IN THESE THOUGHTS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY

[izzyliker]

Hey, asking you this as nicely as I can but can you give the immediate victim blaming a break. The absolute lack of respect you have for the people tmc abused is genuinely disheartening. Yes, he’s a shitty person, you’re entitled to hate him but immediately going “well you should’ve seen it coming earlier lol we’ve been saying this” is just ASTONISHINGLY shortsighted and cruel. Have your opinions about him and the situation all you want I would just ask that you please keep it to yourself due to the many many people he’s hurt that are still on here and can see you disparaging them.

ok, that is not what i have been saying. "well you should've known" is not an accurate summary of my feelings on this matter but apologies if thats how it came across. i have been in an abusive relationship where the person did a lot of the same things and i, too, defended that person without considering how it impacted other people. i almost lost my best friend because of how i acted as a result of keeping him in my life while people around me kept telling me to get tf out. i know.

what i am is im frustrated and annoyed by how long people were willing to publicly and passionately defend this guy while apparently fully aware what kind of shit he was doing to other people, many of which is detailed in the callout itself, and how this is now being framed as news. before the document itself was published all me (or anyone) had to go off of was vague posts that amounted to a "callout trailer" and almost all of the information on it was shit that was 100% completely public knowledge. 20+ people being aware of all that goddamn stuff and not one of them publicly stopping associating with him is frustrating. it comes across as spineless and yes, like one anon told GD, gaslighty (although i have my own issues with this being used on a large scale instead of in interpersonal relationships but i understand where they were coming from). his lesbophobia, transphobia (strange that none of the transphobia towards trans men was mentioned?), and panphobia/aphobia/biphobia were widely documented and seeing that on a callout post as if it were news was extremely tiring.

ive since read the callout. the interpersonal actions seem to have been horrible but sadly im not surprised (by which i dont mean "and neither should you" but rather. my spidey senses for this sort of behavior are pretty accurate most of the time and i did see this coming. this isnt me saying im Better than these people or that they shouldve as well but rather that i have learned to identify people of this genre.) by any of them.

also im 75% sure this is tumblr user GD. hello. if not then apologies, its just that the typing here is very similar. if it is, i think you trying to both take accountability for this and process whatever it is youre processing at the same time on tumblr is a bad idea and going to just lead to people feeling hurt and betrayed because while i truly do see where the reaction is coming from (like, truly, i understand, believe me), if you say "i take responsibility for how i acted while being manipulated" but then when people voice their negative feelings you tell them theyre victim blaming you it is going to reflect poorly on you. i dont think you understand how many people were absolutely hurt by the enabling you and your large, massively popular group of friends did for him, including the MASSIVE defense rant you typed up in defense of him when someone sent an ask to the bi jon event about him being panphobic and aphobic. whether its fair for people to expect you to immediately go into depth about it is questionable but dont invite people to do this when you obviously cannot handle it (i dont mean this in a bad way like "oh you should handle it". i mean genuinely this is how you get burnt out and possibly worsen possible future trauma. by trying to immediately placate people without having the mental resources to do so.)

i think the "we dont condone these views and never did!" without ever specifying what they were or doing any other work there is a lazy fucking cop-out. your circle was/is massively popular and a lot of people took all of you as authorities on stuff like headcanons and respectful portrayals of certain characters or identities to the point of accepting your meta as canon (something you havent really dissuaded ever), and associating publicly with someone who would constantly do this kind of shit and then defending him publicly while also positing yourself as an authority isnt something you can just "oops! we never agreed with him!" yourself out of. GD & TF specifically, you are massive blogs. you are babys first TMA blog. people in your askbox hurt and betrayed by this shit are not necessarily there to victim blame you. they are there because they trusted your word when they said "hey seraf reblogged anti pan and anti ace and weird transphobic posts" and you said "seraf is one of my dearest friends and would never do any of those things and im personally offended youd even imply that." i think you dont understand the real life consequences of the massively popular posts and sentiments he made & published and that you helped spread (despite apparently knowing that he was being a massive hypocrite and bigoted towards those groups or identities in his personal life). obviously interpersonal abuse/conflict is going to be "worse" but dear god i hope you collectively understand that "oh btw we never endorsed his views" is a massive copout and a shit apology for the hurt this association and endorsement caused. tmc has been terrorizing this fucking fandom for months with his bullshit and bigotry and you have not been passive bystandars but active enablers.

anyways, hope everyone involved gets to uh, heal i suppose, but i think expecting the people who seraf suicide baited, the groups of trans men he misgendered, the people who he targeted and harassed, the genuine fucking long lasting dysphoria he caused real people to have over his shitty takes re: transness and dysphoria, and the general shit behavior he was allowed to keep up with zero pushback from anyone in his circle of the fandom to drop all the anger or frustration they have for the people who enabled him and defended him aggressively is... unrealistic. and makes you look bad. especially when the doc doesnt even clarify which opinions you still support.

[lorebird]

I’ve been thinking about Darkstalker a lot today....... so what else to do but dump all my thoughts into an essay lmao

I haven’t reread the second arc yet, only the first, so I’m working off memory here — but I wanna try to articulate the way I’d like to see him written. This works in some magic system revamps and stuff which I’ll explain when relevant!!

Funny little criticism

First off. I REALLY don’t like the way animus magic is written,,,,, what on earth does it mean to lose parts of your soul, in a way that isn’t just plot convenience?? Again, this is just from memory of arc 2 and the special edition, but it feels like animus magic doesn’t have much consequence Until It Does. Like,, DS was selfish and manipulative BEFOFE HE WAS BORN?? He’s “evil” from the beginning for fun and flavor, what does his magic actually Do other than change around the ratio of good:evil in his funky lil soul reader,,, it feels like we don’t see anything on the spectrum between “a few spells here and there without consequence” to “time to murder my family!” I also despise how albatross is written but that’s a rant for another time

Idk I’m just Really not a fan of canon animus magic. Idk exactly how I’ll be redoing it, but I know I’m cutting the soul stuff entirely. I think it’s more interesting and adds more nuance if Darkstalker’s descent isn’t as involuntary as animus magic makes it seem.

Anyways, on the topic of DS being Evil from the start — his redemption??? Like, you’ve got Scarlet, who is only ever acknowledged as evil. She’s never given anything close to a chance at redemption, bc she’s illustrated as Evil™ through and through. But Darkstalker, who is arguably worse than her, gets to start over (against his will???). Girl why??? I have a theory that DS was written to be a tumblr sexyman industry plant actually /j

Ok actual rewrite ideas now

So another magic related thing is moon-given powers. My rewritten world has “moon gifts” for each tribe, from fire resistance in MudWings to frost breath in IceWings to color changing in RainWings. This is cuz I’m writing things slightly more grounded in biology, so having magic abilities from moonlight made it a bit more sensical (as opposed to coming up with biological mechanisms for it all, plus why IceWings would develop frost breath from their common ancestors that breathed fire).

Anyways, all this to say that mindreading and future sight is pretty common in Darkstalker’s time, because it doesn’t require a full moon. Any amount of moonlight lets the abilities develop somewhat, and it’s on a scale — you can go from full Clearsight-level premonitions to vague ideas of the future that seem more prominent than others (“I feel like we’re having soup for dinner more than the possibility of having steak for dinner”). This is sorta what Fatespeaker’s got!! Same goes for mind reading, you can have incredibly clear visions of what others are thinking down to above-average empathy from picking up emotions.

Because of this, ancient NightWings were actually a very emotionally in-tune tribe who were very aware of each other (it helped that they didn’t have to endure the food shortage issues of modern NightWings). Enter Darkstalker: an incredibly powerful dragon who had the potential to be the greatest and most empathetic of them all. And yet,,,,,

I want to tackle DS’ arc with the idea of “frog in hot water.” I wanna look at the gradual change, keeping in mind the environment he grew up in, and go more in-depth on how those ACEs affected the way he used his magic. The way I kinda see it is “used to help others” > “used to help loved ones” > “used to prevent harm” > “used in a way that infringes on others’ autonomy” > “used in a harmful way against enemies” > “used in a harmful way against dissenters” > “used for violence/widespread discord”

By the time he comes back during arc 2, he’s full-gone and stuck in the boiling water. But he’s still got his charisma and an understanding of what it’s like outside the pot, and that’s how he ends up freed and causing chaos. It’s only with enough experience outside his isolated worldview that he can come to realize how wrong he and his actions were, and willingly give up that power. With that reset, and without the trauma that edged him into the path of abusing his power, he gets to start over in a better environment and live a quiet but happy life! Though I’ve got some personal hcs about the magic not staying buried, and letting DS/Peacemaker redeem himself by having access to the same power as before, but making the right decisions this time around. Idk I just think it can make for a nice story about overcoming trauma and self-loathing if he does find out who he used to be

TL;DR I think Darkstalker is much more interesting by removing the built-in issue of losing his soul. To me, it’s more interesting to write him in a way that examines the effects of unlimited power in the hands of someone who keeps pushing past boundaries. Imo it also makes Peacemaker more interesting to eventually unearth those abilities and memories, but remain a good person

[fae-fucker]

It was really disappointing to see you call Cinder's racist and orientalist worldbuilding solid... I highly encourage you to look up diversireads review (they're on tumblr)

Alright, let’s take a look at what I actually wrote in the “Worldbuilding” section of the review:

This book suffers from Selectionitis, aka All Countries On Earth Have Glooped Together In The Future For Some Reason. Except here it’s worse as now the continents ??? have Glooped Together??? Luckily it’s not as relevant here than it was in The Selection, so it’s not dwelled on long enough to get Uncomfortable beyond the initial implications. I’m not wholly comfy with this choice, but other people with more knowledge have talked about it already, so I’ll just leave it at that.

There’s also a new race of people introduced called Lunars, who have Space Magic, and the book sort of jokes that it’s space magic but also tries to explain it using mumbo jumbo science-y terms that does it no favors.

Tbh, I’m perplexed as to why Meyer decided to set this on earth in the first place. There are few references to the real world outside of place names, and it’s far enough into the future that there’s been more world wars (but Cinder’s car is still somehow functional, alright), and the aforementioned Glooping, I wonder why she didn’t just make up a planet. I suppose it’s easier for a younger YA audience to absorb familiar concepts instead of having to introduce a completely new world.

BUT, whatever. It serves its purpose and has an internal consistency, and I didn’t find myself questioning everything as I read, so tbh, it could’ve been much, much worse.

I point out in the first paragraph that other people with more knowledge have spoken about it. I also mention how the merging of countries is uncomfortable, but comparatively not “as bad” as The Selection, which is in hindsight meaningless if you aren’t a follower of mine and have seen me rant about The Selection, but that’s a different issue entirely.

My point wasn’t to endorse the racist and orientalist overtones in the worldbuilding, but to point out how I found it structurally sound enough to support the plot of the novel. Avatar: The Last Airbender, has some structurally sound and solid worldbuilding that is still built upon racist and orientalist stereotypes. (I think that it’s also a flaw of the worldbuilding in both franchises, the fact that structurally, it works well enough, but only because it is separated from the “flavor” that’s sprinkled on top, the cultures used as shiny new paint for Western audiences by Western writers.)

I didn’t think it was my place to speak about these issues, and I still don’t. All I provide is my own take on the book and how I experienced it, which will be inherently flawed and problematic because I don’t have all the lived experience or cultural knowledge of people who would notice things that are off. I apologize for not including links to other people’s more in-depth discussions of the racism and orientalism in the book, that’s something I should’ve done. And I will apologize for endorsing a book I knew had some issues (my opinion of it has changed somewhat drastically since the review was written), but I will stand by my opinion that worldbuilding can be functional while also being problematic, and my decision not to speak on these issues because I didn’t have the authority or knowledge to do so properly and because it just isn’t my place to make half-baked criticisms in the stead of people who know better.

Here’s a link to diversireads review of the book, which goes into detail of the many, many flaws of the worldbuilding of Cinder.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Was reading your response to the Okumura Ryuji/Morgana fight, and the way the person worded Ryuji's character made me wanna ask... Do you think a bad fanbase is a fair reason to dislike a character? I've heard people say things like "no look at the character too", but... For example, I'm very neutral on Ryuji. When he's good, hes SO GOOD, EXCELLENT BOY, but Ann is my favorite girl. Guess who he pervs on exclusively and is rude to all the time? I've never seen his fans talk about (1/2 sorry)

His rude behavior, or his pervy tendencies, or his more selfish desires regarding the PT. That's fine!! Not everyone wants to constantly talk about bad things their fave has done!!! But people referring to him as a "woman respecting king" so insistently rubs me the wrong way, since he treats Ann Like That. That, and (more personal) i remember making a post/ask thing once about my grievances with Ryuji, esp his perv stuff, and the fans that interacted very aggressively denied his behavior (2/3)

And it even turned into a big discourse on the blog I submitted it to (it was that one confession blog). All the people that responded and just tried moving the arguments to "well Yusuke did this-" or even tried to push blame on Ann "she was asking for it" just kinda cemented my already growing dislike for Ryuji. Super sorry this is so long!!! Final question: is a bad fanbase a fair reason for disliking a character? (3/3)

Don’t say sorry about multiple sent asks, I don’t mind kfdsjla;fja As for the answer, I want to say yes and no, but really it’s just “yes with a side note attached.” Yeah, it’s ok to not like a char because of their fans, but I think it’s as long as you know why you dislike the char beyond the fans (well tbh, imo it’s usually the crazy fans so I think stans is a better word, but even then there’s diff stans). And tbh, I....can’t....think of a character I don’t like that the fandom/fanbase does....but I know nothing about the char all the while (closest and most recent example this....is....I know people dislike that grey haired moe blob on twitter even tho I don’t think they watched the show, and while I’m not a fan of the moeblobness I don’t know anything about the char so I’m personally not upset). I can only name chars I don’t like because of what happens in the text, fandom be damned (but sometimes they don’t help). Which is why it’s a yes with a side note. If you don’t like the char despite not knowing them.....probably get to know the char first even if your impression is clouded by the fandom....at least you gave the char a chance. 

Under cut cause length (first few sentences in the first paragraph under the cut/tldr at the end gives you the answer a bit more in depth, the rest is rants related to that and why I get frustrated in a similar sense too, but yeah sorry if I repeat myself, I kinda jumped all over + my tendency to try to nail a point home I feel like might’ve had me repeat a bit more than usual akslfjdakfjaf):

I say this because.....it’s hard....it’s hard to keep them separated, unless you completely isolate yourself from the fandom (which is basically impossible if you wanna keep up with news, even the comment section is part of the fandom tbh...and you might be looking down their for diff reasons). And then.....well...the big reason....sometimes seeing the fans really highlights the reasons you dislike the char. That’s what happened to me and Makoto, specifically cause of....a certain fan (and buddy if you happen to see this, nothing against you, no bad blood, def won’t mention your name I respect you and the debates we had)....AND TO THE TUMBLR READERS WHO GET NERVOUS: It wasn’t on this website in case anyone is freaking out so if you’re thinking “Oh god it’s me” it is most likely not you (tho I think we do know each other on here cause of usernames/saw each other in passing but we def aren’t mutuals last time I checked), and while I do respect that person.......my god did they highlight the reasons I had issues with P5 and Makoto. Ironically in trying to defend her and show off her good sides, I realized the writing issues more and more and her bad sides became more glaring. It turned my frustrating dislike and attempt to try to work out my issues with her and P5 (ironically “working out” in hindsight would’ve been me....denying and refusing to look at P5′s flaws) into....well......the salt factory you know today. (same thing happens with like......Yukari and Junpei fans too tbh...that’s more recent tho, it feels like they are just downplaying their negatives constantly and I’m not about that). Basically, you probably have issues already, they are just more pronounced now. 

As for “look at the character”....you kinda already are doing that, and that’s probably where your existing issues originated from (tho if someone wants a more in depth reason as to why, while you DON’T OWE them an explanation, it is also hard for someone to understand your feelings and reasons if you don’t try to explain). 

As for Ryu, yea, I getcha, I like the guy, I’m neutral positive on him....was my best bro but he’s 2nd best thanks to post-Kamo writing. I like him because of his positives, but I always keep his negs in mind because. Cause like while I agree with the fans IT MAKES NO SENSE! P5′S WRITING IS BAD! it happened, same as I agree that Anne kicking Ryu’s ass, along with the other girls, is shitty. Hate the scene, and I accept that it happen (low key gonna start some kinda 2nd wave war with this bs cause the fandom be like that, but I’m really surprised no one took Anne smacking Ryu behind the neck cause he was being too loud as super offensive and abuse.......it’s def something a friend might do, not like belting him just a tap, and it’s framed as chill and also as warning him to reign in the volume control, but high key surprised no one has tried to cancel her cause of that). BUT that DOESN’T mean it erases all the creepy stuff he’s done. Is he the goodest boi when he’s being good? The best. Is he always a good boi? No, he def is not. And hearing that he is can be frustrating to people that do see his flaws (cause they are there). And like....you are 100% able to like a character despite and because of their flaws, while also accepting they have those flaws. I do it with Yosuke, Ryuji (for the most part), Teddie, Shinji, Ken, Kanji (when he’s not around Naoto, then he’s in a trash can for me), P1/2 casts, Aigis, Mitsuru, as long as the flaws are within reason and are treated pretty well....then I’m ok with it. (again, Kanji/Ryu have moments when I’m like....NOPE! but when they aren’t doing the bad thing I’m cool with them). As long as the flaws are withing reason (aka they aren’t making a jerk person out to be the person in the right, or the writing is trying to sweep what they did under the rug, or trying to force us into empathizing with them despite what they did while also trying ot sacrifice empathy towards another char.....*cough*Makoto/Yukari/Junpei*cough* if the writing isn’t doing that...... I’m probs neutral to pos on them). 

Like I’m fine if they are criticizing the writing and being like “Him doing this makes no sense cause it conflicts with the good boi we’ve already seen!” That’s a-ok! Not only do you recognize your char has flaws, you also are able to identify issues with the writing. But saying “so I’ll choose to ignore that scene” isn’t....ok. Because sadly it did happen, as contradictory it did happen. AU it all you want, but you have to accept it happened outside of that AU. Like, I don’t like the Mika conflict in Anne’s CoOp, by which I don’t like how it went down (100% fine with Mika, and there being conflict with her). How it the whole thing started doesn’t make sense if you put MainStory!Anne in her CoOp. MS!Anne can read the room and other people’s emotions (only other person capable of that is Haru, or at least with Mona), hell she was so good at it she noticed something was up with Shiho without Shiho telling her about it! The issue was the fact Anne’s not a mind reader and could only assume the issue Shiho was going through that Anne was aware of (and that was her spot on the team). Now MS!Anne is not like Yosuke, she doesn’t put her foot in her mouth. She’s not like Naoto who can’t read the room. She’s not super eloquent, but can empathize and when she can interact with people she can do it pretty well. So why the hell does she basically not think before talking and insult Mika? Sure Anne’s not GREAT at school, but she’s not a moron, she can talk to people. But her CoOp makes her a moron all around, 100% airhead, and that’s how her issues with Mika start, by not thinking before talking and accidentally insulting her via blatantly “not caring” about the job to a full time person......it’s stupid, it makes no sense, I hate it. But it’s there, the flaw might not be present in the main story, but for the all around character (cause CoOps are included) it is now and I just have to deal with it. We can bitch about it all day (and trust me I will) but it happened. Basically never frame it as “it didn��t happen,” but instead “It SHOULDN’T HAVE happened.” One is denial, the other is critiquing the text. 

Anyway my rant aside, yeah I hate it when...well Ren/Ryu/Yusuke (no one’s said Mona yet, cause....well yeah...which is good they haven’t labeled him as it yet tho), are labeled as “drinking respect women juice” and I’m like “I have one to a few women who would disagree.” I know some people will argue Goro is drinking it, and imo he’s not....he’s just eating the “I don’t discriminate sandwich” which is different. And yeah the “But Yusuke-” yeah yeah we’ll get to him, but right now we’re talking about RYUJI. I’m not a fan of derailing a topic *war flashbacks* *shivers* anyway. But yeah I remember that debate, I was probably one who was like “We’ll get to Yusuke but right now we’re talking about Ryuji” and pushing the blame onto Anne is disgusting and Kamo Arc!Ryuji would be very upset. >:( (btw high key I think I was the first one who started the first anti-makoto war wave with me saying “yeah Anne shouldn’t have apologized Makoto started it and blah blah she was an ass” not the exact words but basically just calling her out on her shitty behavior cause the game certainly didn’t......tho as Miley Cyrus would say.....”I didn’t mean to start a waaaaaar~!” I actually wrote my first Persona Problems on that topic.......but it got lost in the drafts....my photo examples kept getting messed up which is bad considering the whole post really relied on them....I should try to dig it up tbh....)

Tldr/short answer: Yeah, you probably already have issues with the char to begin with tbh, and the fanbase can highlight those issues more. It’s also hard to escape the fanbase (I see stuff I don’t wanna see despite trying my hardest to avoid certain circles, it just happens).

[soopersara]

So I saw a ost a while back joking abt katara being homophobic even if she tried not to be and i just wanted a second opinion on if i shouldn’t take it to serious and not be slightly upset abt this type of joke what do you think

Oh boy. I know exactly the blog and posts you're talking about.

😒

First of all, if those jokes do upset you, there's nothing wrong with that. You're allowed to have feelings. I think that the "Katara is a homophobe" posts were genuinely meant as a joke, but just because someone intends to be funny doesn't mean that anyone is obligated to laugh along with them. At best, I find those jokes exceptionally tasteless. And if someone actually thinks they're funny... I mean, I'm not gonna leap down their throats for it, but I'm never going to laugh, and my finger will probably be hovering over the block button.

As far as the actual "homophobic Katara" thing goes...

I'm going to try to be as diplomatic as possible, but fair warning, this really gets me steamed.

So let me just get this out of the way: there was NEVER anything to suggest that Katara was a homophobe. Ever. There was no canon confirmation of ANY character in ATLA being anything but straight (and while I'm all for the LGBTQ headcanons floating around, insisting that those characters were LGBTQ in canon reeks of giving the creators credit that they didn't earn. If you HC an ATLA character as something other than straight, that's awesome, but you and the fandom did the work, not the creators, so own it. Take credit and demand better of the creators), so there's no way she could have been homophobic in canon. LOK had LGBTQ characters (the quality of the representation is debatable, but they were there), but ATLA did not. So absolutely no canon evidence supports this whole thing.

Then let's throw in the bigger issue: I am Not A Fan of introducing homophobia into the ATLA world in the first place. There are more in depth posts about the issue out there (here and here are good ones if you're interested), but basically, I see it like this:

Introducing LGBTQ characters = cool! This awesome fantasy world is full of diversity and real people who share those identities/orientations can imagine themselves as a part of this world!

Introducing homophobia = 😳 😬 Annnnndddd..... now all those people who were stoked about getting representation are being told that "yeah, people like you EXIST in this magical fantasy universe, but nobody likes or supports it."

And that's just a whole big pile of YIKES for me.

Add that together with the fact that this "joke" is centered on one of the most beloved characters in the series and it gets even worse. In going from homophobia exists in the ATLA universe to Katara is homophobic, the implication for LGBTQ people changes from "people in this universe wouldn't like or support you" to "THIS character would hate you personally because of your identity/orientation" and I CANNOT and WILL NOT ever see humor in that. Why on earth would it be funny to to make someone think that their favorite character would hate them for that???

Anyway.

Rant over. Maybe.

So yeah, if those jokes bother you, that is completely fine. They bother me. Clearly.

But if they bother you, I don't think interacting with that blog is going to help. Based on their past behavior (and their "NOBODY HAS A VALID OPINION EXCEPT US" attitude), trying to argue with them is just going to get a Sheesh, iT wAs A jOkE response, and that helps no one. If it bothers you, I think the best course of action is to just block that blog so you don't have to see their posts anymore. That's what I did, and my Tumblr life is so much better for it.

[janiedean]

Why is Tumblr so AntiR/ylo? It just seems like so widespread to hate but also it’s pretty tame, I don’t get why it’s the focus of so much hate even from people who’ve never seen Star Wars

pal I had ranted about it once while discussing another issue ie ‘why do people think kylo is abusive’ here but imvho basically the problem is that it arrived when the social justice calvinism on tumblr was in its wake and it’s basically a summary of everything tumblr hates as in:

enemies to lovers where he is the bad guy

it’s m/f so STRAIGHT IS BAD ™️

the bad guy is not a Good Victim ™️

they have an age difference where she’s younger than he is

the bad guy is also not standard attractive for tumblr standards so he doesn’t get the usual pass that all Standard Attractive Bad Guys get

the bad guy is white

the bad guy belongs to a fascist-like organization that aesthetically is inspired by we-know-who.... same as every fucking bad guy in western media post-wwii because you immediately equate that aesthetic with being the bad guy but on tumblr apparently liking smth means supporting that irl soooooo they decided the bad guy is a nazi WHEN HE’S FUCKING NOT and so everyone who likes the bad guy or a ship where he’s part of is also a nazi supporter...... when it’s not the case

it requires assuming that in order to work the heroine has to show some compassion to a dude who’s not a Good Victim ™️ and see that he actually had reasons to turn out like he did, which... well, implies that the audience has to accept that kylo ren isn’t worthless/un-savable/un-redeemable, and since according to the very calvinist view of this website someone like kylo ren is basically the worst of the worst (see post above for in depth explanation) and it requires for them to admit that someone they see as The Worst can actually have some hope to go back to being a good person........... and a lot of people here can’t do that or won’t do that and just won’t see that he actually is way better than they made him out to be and you know, saying ‘oh I changed my mind’ is a thing that is Not Accepted On Tumblr Ever

(spoiler: that was me partially bc like when watching tfa I came out of it not caring about kylo either way but tlj made me go like oH OKAY HE’S A GOOD CHARACTER I GET IT so yeah I changed my mind thanks very much)

also there’s the entire part where people have decided that their interrogation scene in tfa is the reason why it’s abusive when like... he tried to read her mind once and she kicked his ass twice and dished him the same so I still don’t get it also bc as I said in the previous post to be in an abusive relationship you have to like... have a pre-existing rship that they didn’t have and ‘fighting with swords twice and that interrogation before you actually start cozying up and talking like two civilized people’ doesn’t really count in that sense but okay then

anyway the people who haven’t seen sw have decided it is based on anti narrative which is... like...... anti narrative *shrug*

personally I think r/eylo is the dumbest hill anyone should die on bc it’s the fucking tamest enemies to lovers thing in existence and they were truly enemies for the whole entirety of.... forty minutes of TFA and ten minutes in TLJ, maybe, and I honestly think treating it like the plague is a waste of time and idgi never mind painting all the shippers as The Worst when they’ve been crucified since 2015 and they’re nowhere near as bad as The Really Worst People In SW Fandom Including The Toxic Idiots On Twitter - like all of sw is a toxic mess but the reylo people are in no way the demons people make them out to be (and I’m saying it as someone who like.... was lowkey into it but always from the outside post tlj and whose main investment in the ST was st/ormplito so I’m not saying it because I am in that fandom since I’ve been officially-ish in it doing something.... since dec 18th lol) and like......... I’m finding it just bizarre in the worst way

tldr: because it’s everything tumblr hates put into one and for some astral circumstance it happened in the worst moment for it to happen

[displacedhobbit]

Update: Greater Than Gold

AN: Whoop whoop; here’s part 3.

IDK who is still out here and reading this but I hope you enjoy!!

Also, the formatting keeps getting messed up when I try to post it on Tumblr so it’s probably better to actually read on FF.net or AO3. One day I’ll get it figured out.

Warnings: Some swearing, shoddy depictions of violence because that’s what I’m garbage at writing.

Also on FF.net and AO3

Chapter 27: Eighty-Three and Seventy-Seven - Part 3

Word Count (chapter): 9368

Thorin shifts farther back into his cell, intent on ignoring Balin’s lecture. He settles into the back wall, into the shadows, letting the din from the idotic elvish party reverberate around the stone to drown out his cousin’s rough whispering.

He knew what he was doing. At least, he thought he knew. Bilbo would come through; he was so sure of it, more sure than most anything else in his life these days. The hobbit owed him no loyalty, could have left a dozen times at least, but he never had. He had stuck with them through all of this mess - had stuck with him . Bilbo had won Thorin’s trust, and had shown the depths of his loyalty. He would wait a hundred years for Bilbo before he bent to trust Thranduil.

He could not say as much to Balin. Not here; not now. So he would let Balin rant himself out instead, here in these damp cells.

He picks a piece of dried mud from his boots, his ire renewing as he recalls how Thranduil’s guard had stripped them of all their belongings, down to their shirts and trousers, and locked them away like criminals. Angrily, he flicks the mud to the ground, then squashes it with the toe of his boot. They were so close . If only they hadn’t lost the road.

He sighs, Balin’s incessant whispering still reaching his ears, though it has become too jumbled for him to make out the words. He hoped the rest of the company fared well enough. Fíli sounded as though he had recovered from the spider’s  venom, and he could breathe easier knowing Kíli had returned from Thranduil’s interrogation unscathed.

The fire of his anger grew. How dare Thranduil? How dare he attempt to weasle a deal out of him by having his own son hold a knife to Kíli’s throat? Truly, he lacked all honor.

He releases a shuddering breath. For a moment, he was afraid that Thranduil would issue the order, that he would spill Kíli’s blood on his throne room floor. But, dishonorable as he was, Thranduil was not stupid. Lestwise, he was not stupid enough to kill an unarmed dwarf and incur the wrath of the Iron Hills in retalliation. Dain and Thranduil had a long-standing cease order between their two kingdoms - Dain would harm no elf and Thranduil would harm no dwarf - to violate it would wound Dain’s pride and invoke his wrath.

But still, he’d seen the glimmer of panic in Kíli’s eyes. And Thorin had felt it, too - the fear that he would be wrong . Though he was a king, Thranduil was still unpredictable. He’d been foolish to hedge his bets on the elven king fearing retaliation from Dain.

Once, when Kíli was still a tiny dwarfling, he’d had a horrifying night terror in which he’d gambled with Kíli’s life and lost . It had plagued him since, popping up in quiet moments, surprising him by squeezing the breath out of his lungs in unprecedented panic. The same image always leapt to his mind, of Kíli, pale as snow, his blood poured out around him. Like Frerin. Just like Frerin .

He’s found his thoughts drifting to his brother quite frequently on this journey. He wishes, beyond anything else in this world, that Frerin were at his side. He was so much better with Frerin. Would his brother’s presence have calmed him enough to negotiate a deal with Thranduil? Would his gentle, loving demeanor have tempered his ire?

But no, he had let Frein down ages ago. Let his blood spill on unholy dirt, until the light faded from his eyes.

He thinks of Dís, her sharp mind and quick wit. Had she been with him, she would have surely performed some sort of verbal gymnastics on Thranduil and charmed them out of their cells. She had always been so eloquent, so thoughtful. As children he had often envied her way with words; while he and Frerin stumbled over theirs, she had always sounded like a queen.

And he had let her down, too. Promised to care for her boys but led them on this damn quest, to these gods-forsaken cells.

He swallows thickly. He could not dwell on the past, or on horrors seen only in dreams that he would fight with every breath in his being to keep from coming to pass.

When they were free of this wretched place, he would explain it all to Kíli, explain why he had taken such an unfathomable risk, see to it that he understood that Thorin knew in his bones that Thranduil would not harm him. He would remind him that there was no treasure, no honor, nothing in this world that was worth more to him than Fíli and Kíli. Nothing .

He can only hope that Bilbo will be swift.

-----

He fiddles with his shirt hem, idly fingering along a tear, flicking the flap of it up and down as the sounds of the elven party drift through the corridor. It sounds downright raucous, much more so than the parties that Lord Elrond had hosted. Kíli admittedly didn’t know much about the different families of elves (which made him strangely grateful for the cells that separated them - Balin would chastise his ear off is he knew Kíli had forgotten his lessons), but he had to imagine that the Mirkwood elves were the most...un-elf-like of them all. Perhaps like how Kíli himself was decidedly un-dwarf-like.

He sighs, once again considering trying to fall asleep. He can hear snoring from somewhere, and he wonders who has already nodded off. Not Fíli, at least; he can hear his brother humming quietly. He wishes it were easier to talk with him, but he didn’t dare speak too loud and the music and laughter from the party would probably drown him out anyway.

The redheaded elf patrols by again, glancing into each of their cells as she walks by with quick, light steps. She had been the one who spared him from the spiders in the wood. It was probably proper to thank her, but that seemed senseless now that she was ensuring they stayed locked in their cells.

He also thought she looked quite sad, and he found himself wondering why. Perhaps because she was on patrol while the rest of the elves were celebrating. He tried not to dwell on it too much; for the moment, she was their enemy - an obstacle. Dwalin had warned him that his soft heart would be his undoing one day.

He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them as he scans the hallway once more. Candlelight flickers off the walls, casting strange shadows. He focuses on Fíli’s soft humming, and closes his eyes.

Fíli’s humming stops. “You still awake, nadadith?” he asks, and though his voice is quiet somehow Kíli manages to hear it clear as day.

“Yea,” he murmurs in reply, scooting closer to the door of his cell. “Don’t think I could sleep with all this anyhow.”

“Such a light sleeper,” Fíli comments, and he can hear the smile in his voice. “One positive of the spiders was that Oin’s drought knocked me right out for a while.”

Kíli snorts. “I know. You’re heavy.” Fíli chuckles outright, and they lapse back into silence.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Fíli says after a while, his tone wistful. “Do you remember that autumn in Ered Luin when we snuck off from Dwalin? And built the fort?”

Kíli smiled. He did remember. They were young, much younger then, and they’d fancied themselves as fine explorers so they’d ‘snuck’ away (Dwalin had told him later that he’d known exactly where the lads were - they weren’t particularly stealthy in their youth), venturing to an outcropping of rocks with a large slate overhang, gathering sticks and stones to fashion their fire and other comforts, pretending they were regal princes of Ered Luin, sword fighting with the largest sticks they could find. They had played for hours, until the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and Dwalin had come and feigned ire at their escape.

It was a good memory. He hadn’t thought on it in a long while.

“I came upon it on a patrol once,” Fíli says. “I went to look inside but there was a fox and her cubs. ‘Bout near scared me out of my skin.”

“I guess she’s the Lord of Ered Luin now,” Kíli says with a small laugh.

Fíli hums in agreement. Were they in different circumstances, he’d imagine his brother would be packing his pipe and settling in for the evening. Kíli finds himself longing for those simpler times, longing for the only home they’d ever known, wondering if he will ever be that content again. He tries instead to conjure up other happy memories of his childhood with his brother, willing away the loneliness he feels.

Fíli must sense his distress. Even though it was through a stone wall, he could still read Kíli like one of Balin’s books. “After this is all over, I want to go back some day,” he says, quietly. “And I suspect you do, too.”

Kíli swallows the lump in his throat. “Aye,” he manages. “I think I’d like that.”

His gaze focuses again on the flickering light of the hall, trying to make out shapes in the shadows that skirt along the wall. It must be his imagination, because the shadows suddenly move as if blown by the wind, a too-uniform wave passing through their movements. Kíli narrows his eyes, leaning forward to focus, wondering if there is some form of elvish magic at work, but the shadows resume their random dance as though nothing odd happened.

He relaxes, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.There’s the sound of a stone being kicked farther down the hall.

“Did you hear that?” Fíli asks, his voice a sharp whisper, and Kíli’s body snaps to alertness again.

“I thought I saw something move a second ago,” he confirms, hauling himself up to his knees and watching out his cell gate. He can make out voices down the hall, but nothing else.

“ Bilbo !” someone halfway shouts from down the hall, and he hears the sounds of a key opening a lock.

-----

“Come on, this way,” Bilbo whispers, sneaking down the corridor, looking around every corner to ensure they are unseen.

The dwarves follow, boots scraping along the stone floor. Since they’d been divested of their weapons and most of their affects they were much quieter than normal. Fortunate, that was.

“He’s leading us to the cellars!” Dwalin hisses, accusatory.

“You’re supposed to be leading us out, not farther down!” Bofur nearly shouts.

Bilbo whirls to face them. “Shh! I know what I’m doing. Trust me .” He leads them around a corner, where a number of large barrels sit empty. “Well?” Bilbo says, gesturing to the barrels. “Get in!”

“Are you mad?” Gloin replies. “They’ll find us!”

“No, they won’t. I promise ,” Bilbo assures them, turning pleading eyes to Thorin.

Fíli looks to his uncle, then to Kíli who stands uncertainly at his side. Bilbo has proven his worth many times over, and had already broken them free from their cells. What reason did they have not to trust him? Yet still...hiding in barrels in the elven wine cellar didn’t seem like the best of plans.

Thorin turns to the rest of the company. “Do as he says!”

At his command, they clamber into the barrels, the wound in his side stinging uncomfortably. Kíli casts him a worried glance. “I’m fine,” he assures him. Then, almost as an afterthought, he reaches forward, grasps the back of Kíli’s neck and presses their foreheads together. “I promise.”

“What do we do now?” Bofur asks, as all the dwarves turn to look at Bilbo.

The hobbit looks uncertain for a scant second. “Uh, hold your breath.”

The floor beneath them begins to creak, and suddenly their barrels are rolling, then falling, then splashing violently into the stream below. The shock of hitting water instead of solid ground forces the breath from his lungs and he sputters, trying to find balance as he bobs in the stream. Once he has his bearings he searches for his brother - frowning at the wide, terrified look in his brother’s eyes as he coughs some of the splashed water out of his lungs. After a deep, shuddering breath, Kíli’s face clears, and he catches Fíli’s gaze and gives him a reassuring nod.

There’s no shortage of shouting and coughing as the dwarves regain their composure. Ori and Bifur, caught off guard in their fall, had fallen out of their barrels, and it was no simple task to get them back inside as they bob about. From behind him, Fíli can hear Dwalin muttering something about useless hobbits and being drowned like criminals.

“Hold on!” Thorin shouts, reaching his arm out to grab Fíli’s barrel. “We must wait for Bilbo.” Taking his uncle’s cue, he reaches for the nearest barrel (Bofur’s, who for his part looks a bit like a drowned rat) and grasps it tightly. The dwarves work quickly to form a chain with their barrels, blocking the path forward in a makeshift dam, when the hobbit suddenly falls from the ceiling, plopping into the water, barrelless.

Once he comes up, sputtering for air, he swims to the nearest barrel, Nori’s, and hangs on for dear life.

“Well done Master Baggins,” Thorin laughs, sounding almost mirthful at this turn of events.

Bilbo waves them on, spitting water as he does. “They’re coming. Go .”

With that, they release their barrels and start paddling to gain speed. They careen down a waterfall, each of the dwarves (and poor Bilbo) clinging to their barrels, and they rise from the water to see that they’re now bathed in bright daylight. It’s a sharp contrast from the dark cells they’d resided in for who knows how long, and it takes Fíli’s eyes a moment to focus. He can see shapes rushing through the woods, when suddenly the elf-guard that had captured them in the woods springs forth, shouting something in elvish just before a horn sounds.

“No!” Thorin shouts from ahead, and he turns to see a gated bridge across the stream, and an elf standing atop it near a lever as a sluice begins to close.

Well, shit . He thinks. They’re weapons-less and, quite literally, sitting ducks. He desperately tries to form a plan, to come up with some way that they do not wind up back in the cells or dead . Thranduil didn’t strike him as a particularly merciful king.

“Watch out!” Bofur shouts, and he turns to see the elf that had stood atop the bridge falling into the water just in front of him, a jagged arrow lodged in his back.

Orcs . Of course the orcs have come.

Now that they have nowhere to go, the dwarves are seemingly forgotten by the elves as they shift their focus onto the orcs. The orcs, however, remain fixed on getting to Thorin, lunging onto their barrels with blades drawn. Fortunately, Bilbo produces a sword from somewhere , stabbing one, and Dwalin, brawny as ever, elbows another in the face, stealing it’s sword before it plops gracelessly into the water. Fíli manages to subdue another, grabbing its dagger.

He catches movement from the corner of his eye, and turns to see Kíli rushing up the ramp, completely unarmed, eyes fixed on the lever the elf had pulled before. Orcs rush toward him, and Fíli’s breath catches in his throat.

“Kíli!” Dwalin calls, lobbing the sword he’d snagged up to his brother. Kíli catches it easily, swinging it down to take out the orc in front of him, sending it splashing into the water below as Bofur reaches over to snag it’s weapon.

His brother continues up the stairs and across the bridge, slashing his way through. Another orc comes up behind him, spear poised to strike Kíli in the back, and Fíli hurls the dagger forward, sighing with relief when his aim rings true and the dagger lodges itself in the filth’s temple. The way is clear now, and Fíli feels a surge of adrenaline as Kíli nears the lever. They’re going to make it ; Kíli is going to open the gate and they’re going to get away -

Suddenly, Kíli lets out a strangled cry of pain and collapses to the ground, grasp coming just short of the lever, sword falling from his fingers and clattering to the ground beside him.. “Kíli!” he hears himself shout, fear welling up within him. From under the bridge, Thorin calls out his brother’s name as well, blind to the situation.

An orc leaps onto the bridge, sword drawn and prepared to bare down on Kíli, but an arrow abruptly skewers its head as more elves arrive. Distracted, the orcs switch their focus to the ambush, and Kíli manages to crawl up to his knees, gasping for breath. With a groan of pain, he throws his weight onto the level, pushing it down and opening the sluice, before collapsing once more.

“Kíli!” he shouts again, grabbing his brother’s empty barrel with one hand and trying to find purchase on the slippery rocks with the other. “Kíli, come on!” he calls again, voice breaking. “Please!” His hands are slipping on the rocks, his barrel is being pulled under the bridge by the rushing current, The other dwarves slip one by one down the small waterfall, into the rapids below.

Just as he’s certain he’s going to lose his grip on the rocks (and by extension, Kíli, because he knows without a doubt in his mind that if he’s left behind he’ll be captured and worse ), Kíli’s body falls from the bridge, landing roughly on top of his barrel, halfway into the water. He looks positively ashen, and Fíli’s heart sinks as he prays to any diety that will listen that the arrow wasn’t poisoned, that his brother will be okay .

“Hold on!” is all Fíli can say as his hand loses its grip on the rocks. Kíli manages to hoist himself back into his barrel, a rough shout of pain bursting from him, and they’re swept along the current with the rest of the dwarves, the orcs still in pursuit.

-----

“Mahal, Kíli,” Fíli breathes as he examines the wound, pulling the torn pieces of his trousers to get a better look. It was already so inflamed, and he couldn’t tell if the arrowhead was still inside or not. “Oin needs to take a look at this,” he says, immediately searching for their healer. “If it was poisoned, then -”

“Just bind it,” Kíli hisses, brow furrowed in pain. “We have to keep moving. You heard Thorin”

Fíli frowns at him, shaking his head. He cannot be serious ; there’s no way he would make it far with his leg wounded so badly.

“I’ll be fine,” Kíli says, looking him straight in the eye, which manages to reassure him, however smally. “We’re not safe here.” Fíli still hesitates, and his brother reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Fíli tries to ignore how badly Kíli’s hand is shaking. “I promise to have Oin tend to it as soon as we can spare,” he adds.

Finally, Fíli nods and unceremoniously rips fabric from the hem of his shirt, dunking it into the river in a feeble attempt to clean it, before setting about tightly wrapping Kíli’s wound. His brother winces and grits his teeth as he works, driving Fíli’s own anxiety higher. He knows he will feel much better once Oin has a chance to properly tend to him. He can only hope, as he finishes up, that Kíli will be able to make it to safety. Frowning, he looks at his work. It’s a poor excuse for a bandage, even for a field dressing, but it will have to do. He doesn’t have another option.

“Come on,” he says, helping Kíli back to his feet. For the first few steps, his brother leans heavily on him, but after a moment he regains his footing well enough to walk on his own across the slippery rocks, with hardly a limp in his step as he goes to rejoin the others. Fíli frowns again; he knows how good Kíli is at hiding his hurts and knows that his brother is going to overdo it and wind up being in more agony farther down the line if he can’t get a proper dressing soon.

There’s a commotion from behind him, and Fíli whirls around to see a man, bow drawn and aimed at Ori and Dwalin, the latter brandishing a tree branch as a weapon.

Dwalin raises the branch, ready to fight, and an arrow strikes directly into it, right between his hands, in warning. “Do it again and you’re dead,” the man snaps, another arrow already drawn.

“Excuse me,” Balin calls, using his ‘diplomatic voice’ that Fíli has heard countless times before. He approaches the man with his arms raised. “You’re, uh, from Laketown, if I’m not mistaken?”

The man lowers his blow, casting a sidelong glance at Balin.

“That barge over there,” he continues, gesturing behind the man, where Fíli now sees the very tip of a boat, mostly hidden from their sight by the thick underbrush that lines the river. “It wouldn’t be available for hire , by any chance?”

-----

Dwalin keeps his eyes on the lads as they sail.

Fíli and Kíli are pressed shoulder to shoulder, their backs against the damaged barrels. He’d been worried about the lad since he saw the arrow pierce his leg - orc arrows were rarely free of poisons or filth that could take even the hardiest dwarf down in a matter of hours. Once they’d safely boarded the barge, Oin had tended to the wound and gave it a proper dressing. The arrowhead had still been lodged in his leg, but with steady hands and a sharp knife borrowed from the bowman, Oin had been able to remove it. The old healer had stated that he’d need a poultice to draw out any infection and to help with the pain, but the man - Bard , he remembers from Bilbo’s chastising - had none, so Kíli would have to make due until they were smuggled into Laketown.

Kíli was too pale, so much so that the darkness of his hair and the red smear of blood on his lip (he’d bitten it so hard to keep himself from screaming as Oin had removed the arrow) stood out in stark contrast. It made the dark circles under his eyes look worse. It made it look like he could slip from this world at any moment, despite Oin’s assurances that he would make it to Laketown.

It’s the cold, Dwalin tells himself, it’s just the cold that makes him look so pale.

The small blessing was that Kíli was asleep, that he was able to take this brief respite while his brother watched over him.

They’d come too close to losing him too many times on this quest. Dwalin had sworn to protect him, knew without a doubt that he would gladly die if it kept either of the lads safe, but every time he had been too far away or otherwise unable to help, unable to do anything other than watch . He wouldn’t be able to bear it if they lost one of them and Dwalin had done nothing .

He chews the inside of his cheek, keeping the lads in his periphery as he watches the lakeman. He doesn't trust him, doesn’t like that they’re stuck on a boat in the middle of frigid, foggy waters with him, doesn’t like that their survival may very well depend on him being true to his word. Something sits ill within him, like they’re walking into a trap, but with the other option being trying to beat orcs on the road, unarmed and without supplies, he knows they had no other choice.

Someone comes to his side, shoulder brushing his as they lean along the railing beside him. He doesn’t have to look to know that it is Thorin.

“How is he?” he asks, barely concealed concern in his voice.

Dwalin shrugs. “Not well, by any means,” he says, gaze shifting back to Kíli. “But, not getting worse.”

Thorin makes a small noise in the back of his throat in acknowledgement. “Do you think it knew?”

He does look at him then, eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Azog’s spawn,” Thorin clarifies. “Do you think it knew who he was? That he was my kin?” he adds in a whisper.

Dwalin shakes his head. “Think he was just trying to take out anyone that would’ve helped us escape,” he says. “Wouldn’ta mattered who it was.” He knows this fear, this old, horrible fear that Thorin had carried with him ever since Frerin had died. He couldn’t bear to lose anyone else for being associated with his line. It would almost certainly spiral Thorin into madness, and if it were Azog’s own spawn (for how else could the other pale orc have come to be?) that ended one of the lads...he could not fathom how Thorin would go on.

With a sigh, he looks for his brother, catches him with a gaggle of the company, counting coins to pay their way as Bard navigates them through the waters.

“How do we know he won’t betray us?” he finds himself asking, putting words to his fears in the confidence of his best friend.

Thorin frowns, a misted look in his eyes. “We don’t.”

Dwalin settles back with a huff, hating the answer but knowing Thorin is right all the same. There’s some squabbling between Gloin and his brother that he considers intervening on, but the fog thins ahead, and he finds himself awestruck instead. “Look,” he says softly, nudging Thorin’s arm. His eyes water on their own accord.

The Lonely Mountain sits on the horizon, closer than he’s seen it in an age.

-----

“You look like shit,” he says fondly as he tucks Kíli’s hair behind his ear.

Kíli scoffs in indignation at him, but he doesn’t argue. “I feel like shit.”

Fíli just smiles and wraps a blanket around his brother’s shoulders, sitting beside him on the settee, eyes fixed on the Lonely Mountain out the window. Kíli leans back into the plush cushion, turning himself the tiniest bit into his brother, just a tiny bit too close, as always. His leg is propped up on a footstool, at Oin’s request. Fíli lets his cheek rest on the top of his brother’s head, content.

They’d been welcomed into the home of the Master of Laketown (who, in Fíli’s humble opinion, looked more like a louse than the lord of a town, but men were much different than dwarves), and while the man had thrown them a rather uproarious party, Fíli and Kíli had taken their leave to rest. Oin had instructed Kíli to do so (and Thorin, too, though he need not say the words aloud) to give the poultice he’d packed the arrow wound with time to work. He’d worried that they’d perhaps taken too long, and that after being doused with river water, covered in fish guts, and crawling through a toilet the wound had likely become infected. So off he’d sent them, just after the party started, with a plate full of food and a mug of ale ( for Fíli only he had stressed) - and Fíli had felt Thorin’s eyes on them the entire time he’d helped his brother up the stairs to the rooms they’d been lent.

When Kíli had fallen in the armory, Fíli’s heart had stopped. He knew , the second he’d heard the loud clattering of weapons that it had been Kíli, the ache in his leg finally overcoming him. He had pushed it too far, given too much without resting, just as Fíli knew he would. He loops his arm around his brother’s shoulders, tugging him a bit closer still.

“How’s your side?” Kíli asks softly, sleepiness evident in his voice. He turns to press a kiss against his brother’s hair. Of course Kíli was still worried about him. Even with everything that had happened, even with the wound that Fíli knew was causing him pain. Kíli’s kindness never wavered

“Better,” he says, and Kíli hums in acknowledgement. His head seems to sink further into Fíli’s shoulder, blessedly cool forehead pressed against his neck.

From below, he can hear music, shouts and cheers. The merriment at the return of the Lord of Silver Fountains seems as though it will last long through the night, though Thorin had told the company that they would be leaving at first light.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be there,” Fíli murmurs softly as he gazes at the mountain, but Kíli doesn’t reply. He listens for a moment, pleased to hear his brother’s breathing deep and even with sleep. He presses another kiss to the crown of Kíli’s head. “Tomorrow we will finally see Erebor, nadadith.”

From his right, the door to the guest room they’d been lent for the night creaks open, sounds of the party spilling in, causing Kíli to stir slightly. He cranes his neck around to see Thorin sheepishly enter, closing the door behind himself with a quiet snick . He walks over to them, sitting gingerly on the edge of the settee before reaching out to card his hand through Kíli’s hair.

Fíli sees the fondness there, the raw emotion. It warms his heart - Thorin had been so focused on the quest, so in control for fear that their enemies would discover them as his heirs - he cannot remember the last time he had seen such tenderness from their uncle. He’d known to expect distance; Thorin had warned them that it was important to keep their relation to him a secret. He just hadn’t expected it to bother him as much as it did. Hadn’t expected it to hurt .

“How is he?” Thorin asks, his thumb tracing reverently over Kíli’s high cheekbone, as if committing his face to memory. Fíli frowns; what does Thorin know that he isn’t saying?

“He seems better,” Fíli admits. “I think the medicine is starting to take.”

Thorin smiles at him before reaching over to cup Fíli’s cheek, before dropping his hand to squeeze the nape of his neck.

“Talk to me, Uncle,” Fíli says quietly. “What troubles you?”

Thorin sighs, drawing away from the lads to stand by the window, eyes on the mountain. Fíli hates it a little because he can no longer see Thorin’s face, but he knows good and well that that’s probably the reason he stood in the first place. He almost wants to join him, just so he can see his face and read him better, but he doesn’t dare leave from where Kíli is tucked safely into his side.

“I’ve not been this close since...since we fled,” he says softly. “It’s made me sentimental, I suppose.” Thorin runs a hand through his beard. “I fear what we will encounter when we reach the mountain. I fear what will happen if we awaken Smaug. I fear...everything all at once, I suppose.”

Fíli can hear the barely restrained emotion in his voice. “So do I,” he admits just as quietly. “But I’m also…” he frowns, trying to decide on the right word. “Excited? Anxious? I don’t know. You’ve told us about Erebor our whole lives. It feels surreal that tomorrow...that we’ll be there.”

Thorin stiffins, almost imperceptibly, but he catches it nonetheless. “I hope it does not disappoint you,” he says after a long stretch of silence.

“I doubt it could,” Fíli says quietly. “Even after years of Smaug’s squatting, I’m certain it will be grander than anything we’ve seen before.”

Thorin turns back to him and smiles softly. “I cannot wait to show it to you.” He hears so much in his voice - pride, worry, fear, love - and it fills Fíli with an emotion he cannot quite identify. “But you should rest,” he says as he comes back toward him, bending down to press their foreheads together.

Fíli nods. “You should, too,” he says, an amused smile coming to his lips. “Can’t stay up partying all night.”

“Know that I love you,” Thorin says softly, not playing into his joke. “The both of you. More than anything in this world.” There are tears in his eyes when he pulls away, and Fíli has to swallow the lump in his throat, blinking back his own tears.

“We know, Uncle,” he asserts with a shaking voice. “Kíli adores you. I love you. Always.”

The corner of Thorin’s mouth quirps upward, in the barest hint of a smile. “It is more than I deserve.”

-----

He’s wrestled with this decision for days, though it felt like years.

Ever since his youngest nephew had been struck by the orc filth’s arrow, he’s wondered if he should send him home, or have him wait here, with these wretched men in Laketown. He doesn’t want to. Kíli is, for all intents and purposes and lineage aside, his son . They both are. He’s been with them since they were babes, he’s promised them Erebor since before they even knew what it meant.

They still didn’t know what it meant.

It meant no more rumbling stomachs, no more scrimping and saving, no more threadbare clothes, no more disdain from elves and men. It meant the end of the suffering of their people, the dawn of a new age. It meant peace and happiness in their lives for all the rest of their days. It meant everything to him because it meant he could finally, finally give everything to them . Everything they’d craved, everything they’d deserved…everything .

And they’ve come so far, they’ve conquered so much, and it seems such a shame to send him away when they are but in the shadow of the mountain.

But time is not on his side. If he is to give them all he desires, he must be swift.

And when Kíli makes to step onto the boat, horrible limp still evident in his step, his decision is made. He had hoped Oin’s cures would have had more of an effect, that the solid night’s rest would somehow make him strong enough to complete this last, precious leg of the journey.

But it hadn’t, in his heart he’d always known it wouldn’t. It had been a foolish hope.

“Not you,” he murmurs as he reaches out an arm to stop him. Kíli’s face twists into something that is a terrible cross of hurt and shame and fear, and Thorin knows he must school his features and stay impassive. He cannot let these men see him break. He cannot let them know what his nephews mean to him. They could use it as a weapon against him, and he will not have it.

“We must travel at speed,” he elaborates when he feels many eyes fall to him. “You will slow us down.”

Kíli looks up at him, disbelief clouding his face as he tries to manage a smile, to pretend that this is just a joke.. “What?” he murmurs, gaze flickering just quickly to where Fíli stands behind his uncle. “What are you talking about? I’m…I’m coming with you.”

Thorin can see the pallor in his face, the dark circles under his eyes. Kíli is still clearly not well. It would be reckless to bring him, he reasons with himself.

Thorin gives the barest shake of his head and resolutely ignores the tiny whimper of desperation that escapes Kíli’s throat. He has to do this. He has to keep him safe and win back the mountain. He has to do this. For them .

“I’m going to be there when that door is opened, when we first look upon the halls of our fathers,” he implores. “Thorin…”

He knows Kíli cannot possibly understand why he is doing this, knows he should have done this earlier, should have prepared him, should have explained . But he didn’t. He was a coward, had seen Kíli asleep the night before when he went to speak his mind, and had lost his nerve. With a sigh, he reaches to cup the back of Kíli’s head, pulling their foreheads as close as he dares.

He cannot let them know how much Kíli means to him.

“Kíli,” he murmurs, fixing him with a gaze that he hopes will explain everything. “Stay here. Rest . Join us when you are healed.” Kíli has always been better at reading him than anyone.

Kíli’s eyes search him again, desperate. Thorin’s heart breaks; he doesn’t understand.

Kíli shakes his head, breath coming out in a staggering huff, and a barely whispered ‘Uncle…’ reaches his ears. For a moment he’s terrified that he’ll cave, that he won’t let Kíli go , but Óin comes to his rescue, saying that he’ll stay with the lad. It eases his heart greatly to know that Kíli will not be alone here, that he will be in good hands between Óin and Bofur, if he ever chooses to come round again. He watches as his cousin leads his nephew away, heart feeling leaden in his chest.

When he turns back to the company, he’s met with Fíli’s furious face, nearly cringes when he sees the betrayal shining in the depths of his cerulean eyes. “Uncle,” he murmurs the damning word, but thankfully none of the men seem to hear it. “We grew up on tales of the mountain. Tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him!”

He is hurt, his tone accusing, and Thorin has to focus to keep his face neutral and impassive. “Fíli,” he starts, trying to find the right words to explain himself, but his nephew doesn’t give him the chance.

“I will carry him if I must!” he declares, and in it Thorin hears the silent ‘Uncle, please!’ , but he resolutely ignores it. They’ll be angry at him now, hurt because of him now, but he’ll make it up to them. He’ll win back the mountain. He’ll give them everything that he couldn’t for the entirety of their lives.

“One day you will be King and you will understand,” he says.

You will understand why I have to do this. It’s for both you , he means.

“I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf – not even my own kin,” he explains, in nothing more than a hushed whisper.

I cannot risk losing him, losing the mountain, not when I’ve come this far to reclaim it for you…for all of us , he means.

Fíli’s face is filled with disbelief and fierce determination, and Thorin knows what he means to do before he even moves his feet. He reaches out quickly, grabs his arm.

“Fíli, don’t be a fool,” he half-begs. “You belong with the company.”

You belong with me. I am doing this for you . I need you by my side , he means.

“I belong with my brother ,” his heir all but snarls as he wrenches his arm free.

With a heavy sigh, Thorin watches him leave the boat. He cannot blame him. He wants Fíli to stay with him, knows that he will feel better and stronger if he has at least one of them by his side, but he can’t stop him. He won’t stop him.

He turns back to the company, desperately ignores with worried glances, particularly the one Dwalin aims at him, and gives the nod for them to depart. He doesn’t look back, cannot look back, because if he does he will break. Time is not on their side, and if he is to do this, if he is to do this for them , then he must be swift.

Dwalin slides close enough to him so that their shoulders are pressed closely together to give him strength. He knows he needs it. He has to see this through, and when he does everything will be alright in the end. He will be able to give them everything.

He can do this.

He’ll do it for them.

-----

This is how it ends for him, he thinks. He cannot see a way that his brother survives this day.

They are back at Bard’s home, having been turned away everywhere else when Kíli took a turn for the worse. He’d practically fainted, then spiked a deliriously high temperature that had startled even Oin. When he’d peeled away the bandage the healer hadn’t been able to hide his gasp of surprise. In a matter of hours the wound had festered, turning black around the edges.

“It was poison,” Oin had hissed under his breath as Bofur and Fíli had supported Kíli’s deadweight. “Slow acting, very deadly... damn those creatures.”

Deadly . When Oin had uttered that word Fíli felt as if part of his soul had left his body. It took every ounce of his strength to remain calm ( for Kíli , he would constantly remind himself - in his fleeting moments of lucidity he was completely terrified, and Fíli vowed that he would not make his terror worse). It helps that Oin has taken control, that he is barking orders at him, giving him something to do , a task to focus on.

“Get him up on the table,” Oin commands. Bard makes a sound as if to protest, but he clears the table nonetheless, sending dishes and bowls clattering to the floor, making space for Kíli. Fíli stays by his head, knelt on the ground, trying to talk his brother through what is happening, though he has no idea if Kíli can hear him or not. One of Bard’s girls brings in a cloth and a basin of cool water.

“Can you not do something?” Fíli asks frantically as Kíli’s form seizes once again. He is burning hot; even pressing the cool rag to his forehead seems to do nothing.

“I need something to bring down his fever,” Oin calls over his shoulder, to Bard, as he cuts Kíli’s pant leg off and removes the latest bandage, face stricken. Fíli can’t make out what the bowman says in reply. “No, no; those are no use to me. They won’t stop the poison. Do you have any kingsfoil?”

“No; it’s a weed,” Bard says as he presents Oin with his own bowl of hot water and some cloths. The healer immediately starts clearing out the wound,  causing Kíli to groan in agony once more. “We feed it to the pigs.”

“Pigs?” Bofur says, jumping up from Kíli’s other side. “I’ll find it,” he says. He fixes Fíli with a comforting look. “I’ll find it, laddie.” He reaches for Kíli’s hand and squeezes it. “Hold on for me, yea?”

Bard’s daughter comes to kneel beside him, placing another basin of cool water beside him, then wetting her own rag and wiping it along Kíli’s face. Sigrid , her name pops into his mind again. He nods at her in gratitude. Sigrid gives him a soft, small smile, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

Kíli lets out a pitiful, gasping wail as he arches his back against the pain. Fíli can’t take it; the tears spill freely from his eyes now as he presses his forehead to Kíli’s too-hot temple. “Hold on, nadadith,” he whispers, voice tight. “Just hold on for me, yea? Bofur will be back. We’re going to fix this. I just need you to hold on. Please,” he adds, his voice breaking on the last word as he hopes beyond hope that Kíli can hear him.

Suddenly, the ground around them shakes violently. Fíli’s stomach sinks into his boots.

“It’s coming from the mountain,” Bard’s son says, just as the room rumbles once more.

Fíli’s eyes find Bard’s. “You should leave us. Take your children and go; get out of here!”

“And go where?” Bard says, clearly distraught as he takes in each of his children.

“Are we going to die, Da?” the littlest one asks, and Fíli fears that they will . “Is the dragon going to kill us?”

“No darling,” Bard says, quickly striding over to their kitchen and yanking something free from a hanging rack. Fíli bites back a gasp of surprise; a black arrow. Ammunition for a wind-lance. “I’m going to kill it first.”

-----

“What about Bilbo?” Ori asks, a slightly panicked tone in his voice. It seemed like everything was going well enough, but then the ground had trembled beneath them.

Smaug was awake. There was no denying it. Any hope that Thorin had held that the blasted worm had perished and died within the mountain wafted away like smoke.

“Give him more time,” he says finally, eyes anxiously watching the door. He trusted Bilbo; he knew the hobbit would not let him down, knew that he would find the Arkenstone and return it to him.

“Time for what?” Balin scoffs. “To be killed?”

“You’re afraid,” Thorin acuses, crossing his arms over his chest and staring his old friend down. They need the Arkenstone; Balin needs to trust him.

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Balin retorts. “I’m afraid for you .”

Thorin takes a step back, leveling Balin with a glare.

“A sickness lies upon that treasure horde, Thorin,” he needlessly reminds him. “A sickness that drove your grandfather mad .”

“I am not my grandfather,” Thorin hisses, ire rising up within him. He knows , he knows the tragedy that had befallen his grandfather because he had watched it happen, helplessly on the sidelines. Stuck to do nothing while Thror withered into a shell of himself. He would not go down the same path. He would fight, tooth and nail, to keep that from happening.

“You are not yourself!” Balin continues. “The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there and -”

“I cannot risk the fate of this quest for one burgular,” Thorin interrupts, hoping that he sounds practical.

“ Bilbo ,” Balin hisses. “His name is Bilbo. Or have you forgotten?”

Thorin frowns, eyes drifting to Laketown, to Fíli and Kíli. The ground rumbles lightly beneath them once more. “What would you have me do?” he says quietly. “What would you have me do to stand against this worm who has taken everything from me.? I cannot hope to triumph against Smaug.”

Balin’s face softens. “It seems that you are also afraid, my dear friend.”

Thorin says nothing, but his gaze shifts back to the stone door. He knows that Balin is right , he cannot leave Bilbo to fend for himself. But still, he cannot make himself move to venture into the halls. He cannot face Smaug again, not without a plan to defeat him. But if Bilbo can get the Arkenstone, he can rally the dwarf kingdoms, they could form an army and stand a chance at killing that beast…

“We have to do something , Thorin,” Balin says again. “We would not have made it this far without him. We cannot leave him to face the dragon alone.”

It shakes him to his core, but Thorin nods.

-----

Kíli has gone positively ashen. His cries have weakened; he has started murmuring nonsense. Fíli can do little more than stroke his brother’s hair from his sweaty face, than whisper empty reassurances. There’s nothing they can do unless Bofur can find the kingsfoil. Nothing.

Kíli will die here, and he probably will too, judging by the ever increasing rumbles coming from the mountain.

A cold resignation settles over him. He presses a kiss to his brother’s sweaty temple, suddenly grateful for the evening they’d had the night prior, when everything had seemed so simple, so much like when they were children. He’d felt safe. Happy. He’d felt like they were going to make it to Erebor, to live out their destiny, but it had all gone wrong.

How had it all gone so wrong so quickly?

There’s a clunk on the roof, drawing Sigrid’s attention. “Da?” she calls, peeking out the door. When she receives no response, she shrugs and turns back into the house, when an orc suddenly lands on the balcony behind her. With a scream, she tries to slam the door shut, but the orc stops the door with his sword.

Sigrid’s scream snaps them all to attention, even Kíli, who struggles to get to his feet, bleary eyes trying to focus on the situation at hand. “Kíli, get down ,” he hisses, pushing his brother behind him onto a nearby settee as the orc forces its way in.

A second orc crashes through the ceiling. Oin is grabbing anything within reach and chucking them at the orcs  - starting with the plates. Bain gets his sisters under the table, blocking them from the orcs with the bench as Fíli grabs the pike hook Bard had fashioned for them and throws it with a snarl, finding a sick sort of satisfaction as it finds its mark in the orc’s throat.

More orcs crash through the ceiling, and he hears Kíli cry out in pain behind him. One of the orcs has him by his wounded leg, dragging him off of the settee, and Fíli sees red. He spies a knife on the floor and grabs it, hurling it with deadly accuracy, freeing his brother, who crashes to the ground with a whimper. Fíli has enough sense about him to grab the sword from the creature before turning to face the onslaught.

Just as suddenly, two elves come crashing through the roof, quickly getting to work on the orcs. He recognizes them from Thraduil’s halls - the blond he thinks was the elven king’s son, and the redhead had been the one patrolling the hall with their cells. The orcs must have continued following them, seeking Thorin, and the elves were clearly still hunting the orcs.

Fíli grabs Bain, shoving him down as another one of the orcs rushes at him, giving him space to slay the beast. It only takes a few moments for them to dispel the orcs - the elves are deadly accurate with their blows. There’s shouting in black speech from outside, and the remaining orcs flee from the house, leaving it a chaotic wreck. Fíli pants heavily, eyes scanning the small abode once again to make sure they are safe.

“Are you alright?” the redheaded elf asks the children as she helps them to their feet.

“You killed them all,” Bain murmurs in amazement.

Oin pushes past him, rushing back to Kíli’s side. His brother is struggling to breathe, his whole body hitching as he tries to take in air. “We’re losing him!” the healer shouts.

“What happened?” he hears the elf ask from behind him, but he can barely make it out over the blood rushing in his ears. They’re losing him.

“Please, Kee,” he begs, sinking to his knees beside his brother, a sob forming in his throat. “Please don’t leave me here alone. Please .”

“I found it!” Bofur shouts, bursting back into the home. “What in the blazes happened here?”

Fíli turns to look at him, tears streaking his face. “You found it?” he asks, numbly. Bofur holds up his hand, the plant clutched in it.

“He’s too far gone,” Oin says sadly. “I don’t know what to do.” Fíli chokes on a sob.

“I do,” the redheaded elf says, eyes switching between Kíli and the kingsfoil in Bofur’s hand.

“Tauriel,” the prince says. “We must go. We’re losing the pack.”

She shakes her head. “I’m going to save him,” she says. “Get him up on the table. I need hot water,” she says, looking at Sigrid and Tilda.

Fíli feels something akin to hope blossoming in his chest as they gather Kíli’s limp form and settle him back onto the table. He has heard the stories of elvish healing magic; he prays to Mahal that it will be enough to save Kíli. His brother is mumbling deliriously again, skin so pale that, were he not drawing in breath, Fíli would think he was dead.

He watches as the elf washes the herbs, hands deftly shredding the leaves and creating a poultice. “Hold him down,” she says, eyes fixing onto Fíli with something akin to sympathy. Fíli grabs his brother’s shoulders and Bofur takes his ankles, pressing them to the table as he tries to ignore the whimper of protest that slips past his brother’s lips.

The elf begins chanting in a language he does not recognize, before she presses the poultice into the wound, and Kíli screams. Fíli struggles to keep him still, even as Oin and Bard’s children come to help. Kíli thrashes, but the elf holds steady, keeping the poultice pressed to his wound as she recites the healing magic. After a moment, Kíli takes a heaving breath and his thrashing calms, glassy eyes staring sightlessly at the roof.

“Kíli,” he murmurs, relinquishing his hold on his brother’s shoulders and pushing his sweaty hair from his face.

The elf’s chanting ceases, and she pulls the poultice away from the wound. Fíli gasps aloud - the festering blackness of the wound has vanished, and it looks tremendously better already. He can hardly believe it.

“I’ve heard tell of the wonders of elvish medicine,” Oin says, sounding just as awed as Fíli feels. “That was a privilege to witness.”

“Burn this,” the elf says as she hands the poultice to Bofur, who obediently tosses it into the fire. “He needs rest, though I fear it will be a while before he can have it,” she says softly as she sets about binding Kíli’s leg with a clean bandage. “The poison is gone, but his body is weak.”

Fíli can hardly find the words to speak. He presses his forehead to Kíli’s temple, breathing a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he manages finally.

“He is precious to you,” the elf observes, a small smile on her face as she finishes Kíli’s binding.

“He’s my brother,” Fíli whispers. “My only family.”

She squeezes his shoulder as she stands. “I thought as much,” she admits. “You looked after one another in Mirkwood. With the spiders.”

The ground rumbles around them. Fíli closes his eyes. Have they saved him only to perish in dragonfire?

“You have to leave,” she says, speaking to all of them now. “There is no time!”

Bain hesitates. “We cannot leave without our Da,” he says, but even as he speaks the ground rumbles again, shaking debris loose from their damaged roof.

Tauriel frowns. “If you stay here, you and your sister will die. Is that what your father would want?” Bain blinks quickly, eyes shining when he finally shakes his head, looking to his sisters sadly.

Fíli and Bofur work to get Kíli to his feet. His brother is slowly coming back to himself, his eyes clearing, but he’s far too weak to walk on his own. “Fee,” he mumbles softly, his head lolling onto Fíli’s shoulder as they right him.

“Don’t worry; I’ve got you.” he promises, pressing a kiss to Kíli’s temple. Bofur helps Fíli get his brother onto his back, keeping the weight off of his leg.

Oin and Bard’s children gather some provisions as Fíli and Bofur make their way down the stairs to the dock. It is slow work; Fíli is careful not to jostle his brother and Bofur works to ensure he maintains his balance as they navigate the steps. He is just getting Kíli situated at the back of the boat, propping his wounded leg up on the side, when the others rejoin them.

A horrible tremor shakes the ground, sending waves sloshing through the lake. In the distance, they hear the shriek of a dragon. Fíli locks eyes with his brother.

Smaug is coming.

-----

No. No, no, no, no, no .

Bilbo stammers to his feet, chasing after where Smaug had fled, the other dwarves clambering behind him. He can hardly breathe. How had this happened? Thorin’s plan had been so good , he was so certain that it would work to subdue Smaug, but now ...now thousands of innocents were now in Smaug’s path. Because of them. Because of him .

They can do little more than watch when Smaug unleashes his flames upon Laketown.

-----

AN - So it looks like I’ll be rounding this bad boy out at 30 chapters. Next chapter will be pre-BOTFA focused, 29 will be BOTFA, and 30 will be the end. I’m sad and anxious and excited all at the same time.

Anyway, as always thank you so much for reading this little story that has occupied so much of my life at this point. It means the world.

[velvetgons]

insecurity

junkyu x gender neutral reader

genres; angst, fluff 

word count; 6.2k 

song recs; home - seventeen and bloom later - jesse !!

warnings; mentions of cheating, insecurity, self-doubt, pls don’t read if you think this could make you feel insecure or bad abt yourself!!!, copious amounts of fluff, kissing (is that a warning?)

requested; yes!! thank you angel :) [requests are open] 

a/n; not much angst because uhh i am not so good at writing long angst oof

gif credit; hynsks on tumblr!! please tell me if you’d like it removed at any point :) 

His footsteps receded into dull thumps as you remained sprawled across the surface of the sofa in your living room. The TV continued to blare on in front of you, your eyes trained forward on it as you could already feel yourself begin to miss the presence of him beside you. You huffed softly, focusing on another mindless action sequence mid-way through a movie you didn’t care about, squinting as you watched the lead drop multiple stories of stairs to land perfectly on his feet. A scoff passed your lips as you mumbled out a realistically too-loud-for-when-you’re-alone, “Is that even actually possible?”

“Is what even actually possible?” You heard Junkyu’s voice call back in response, your head twisting to see that he must’ve been yelling from the kitchen, the living room still devoid of him.

You dropped your head back toward the screen in disappointment before yelling back a quick, “Do you think you could drop down six flights of a stairs and be, like, totally unaffected?”

You received a loud laugh in response, “I can’t even walk upstairs, so, I’d say no.”

Biting back the laugh bubbling up in your throat, you huffed dramatically before re-wording. “No, not you, I just mean, like, a person.”

“Am I not a person?” Junkyu called back, multiple clanging sounds as he attempted to put dinner into the oven for you both meeting your ears in harsh jolts.

You hummed just loud enough for him to hear, “Barely,” you called in a sing-song tone, hearing him gasp in response, “anyway, who cares about that, answer my question.”

He laughed again, a bright grin turning your lips up at the sound, almost wishing he wouldn’t actually stop to speak just yet. “I care about that,” he began, before another banging sound resounded through your apartment, “but, hm, yeah, I do think it’s possible.”

A far louder, more offended scoff passed your lips then, “Seriously? I don’t.”

“Obviously,” you heard him call in response, your grin spreading across your features as you heard the oven door finally open, “check, so I can finally be right about something.”

Your hands dropped onto the soft cotton of the sofa, fingers splaying out as you swiped your hands around in an attempt to find your phone. You lifted your hips off of the sofa in an ungracious check to see if it’d ended up underneath you, finding nothing again. Double-checking the coffee-table, you remembered rushing upstairs only twenty minutes ago to charge it after it’d died while you’d been showing Junkyu dumb cat videos you’d found late the night before.

“Can I use your phone?” You called back in inquiry, knowing already he’d say yes like you both always did.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be, like, two seconds, but go ahead.” Part of you felt suspicion bubble up at whatever he was still doing in the kitchen, the slight worry that he’d broken another almost impossible-to-break appliance hanging over you as you picked his phone up from the top of the table. You typed in his password without really thinking, his phone opening up to the picture of you and him from earlier that year, making you groan softly at the sight. It was one of his favourites – for evident reasons – he looked absolutely perfect, dressed well and smiling brightly at the camera; while you were wearing an oversized shirt of his, your hair messy from the day spent lounging around with him and Yedam, and you were caught off-guard, staring at him as if he was some kind of alien being.

Quickly moving onto opening the internet, you waited patiently for the home-page to load up, tapping your fingertips against the back of the phone. The sound of his text notification noise going off made you jump slightly, an embarrassed laugh passing your lips as you realised what it was. You’d usually ignore them, swiping them away as not to invade any sense of his privacy, but the sight of an unknown number peaked your interest. You pulled the text down to be able to read the whole thing, feeling your chest tighten at the words.

[19:28] unknown: I had so much fun today :) we definitely need to do it again soon, text me when she isn’t there and we can make more plans?

You breathed in sharply, feeling annoyance burst through you at yourself for jumping to conclusions. Breathing in deeply, you re-read the text, knowing it was probably nothing. It was probably a friend with a new phone, they probably weren’t doing anything bad, it was just bad timing to be catching one of their texts out of context.

Opening the message thread, you saw no more texts from the same number, sighing as you could already feel the likelihood of you obsessing over this growing. Just as you were about to close it and seek out Junkyu to get the asking him over with, another text came through.

[19:30] unknown: Just make sure she doesn’t find out!! We don’t want her knowing about this :) x

Junkyu dropped onto the sofa beside you, just as you closed the message thread to go back to the internet, your fingers stuttering over the keyboard. “So, who’s the smartest in this relationship, then?” You heard him ask, looking at you with raised brows.

You forced yourself to laugh in response, immediately feeling confusion at why you did that afterwards, “Wasn’t sure what to type, really.”

He laughed brightly, slipping the phone out of your hands before stopping and speaking again, “Oh, did I get a text? Thought I heard my phone go off.”

Humming softly you shrugged, “Uh huh, I clicked on it accidentally, but I went off it as soon I did. Sorry,” you mumbled softly, wondering if this would prompt him into anything.

He just shrugged, nodding, “It’s okay,” before his thumbs began tapping against his phone-screen again, “now, let’s see who truly is the intellectual here.”

           That had been a week ago now. You’d told him when he’d texted to tell you he’d gotten home safe that you weren’t feeling well, so you’d go to bed early and couldn’t respond to his texts. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed anything, telling you he hoped you felt better soon and to tell him if you needed anything.

Suffice to say, you weren’t feeling better soon. You’d been using this sudden and strange illness to avoid Junkyu and all of your other friends for the entire week, only daring to leave the safety of your apartment to go to school and work, grabbing small amounts of shopping on the journey back and forth. Rationally, you knew that isolating yourself and allowing your mind to spin different versions of a story you truly didn’t know any detail of would only aggravate the issue. But it was like you couldn’t stop yourself; the second he’d stepped out of that door, you’d began picking at the possibilities like a scab, trying to dig past the surface and figure out by yourself what was going on underneath.

Clearly, it had been slow work, the pressure of beginning to imagine and picture your boyfriend in a relationship with someone else behind your back had gotten to you enough to make solitude feel like the best option. Before, in the unusual instance of you and Junkyu arguing, you’d seek out a mutual friend, you’d rant and they’d know him enough to give you suggestions on how to fix it. It was the exact same thing he did in response to arguments with you. That was one of your favourite things about the two of you, the fact that you were able to put your stubbornness aside and figure things out together. This time just felt different. It didn’t feel like a matter you could take to a mutual friend and ask for an un-biased opinion on.

Slumping further back into your sofa with the blanket bound around you, you groaned in discomfort, feeling like your head had a heartbeat as you attempted to figure out what had to be the hundredth theory you’d come up with. This is, you noted, where things had evidently gone very wrong, turning in a direction you had first thought was unattached from the beginning picture of him cheating on you.

Every day when you woke up now, you’d feel an ever-growing and ever-painful need to stand in front of the full-length mirror and pick yourself apart, piece by piece. Over these seven sessions going in-depth on why Junkyu must no longer love you and be attracted to you and therefore feel a need to cheat on you, you’d come to conclude that perhaps that was a lot more wrong with you than you’d first imagined. Even when you’d been at your lowest with insecurities, you’d never thought that you weren’t worth anything. In fact, you were all about things being about more than looks, that was a thing you always spread around within your friendship group.

Now, though, things felt more difficult than they ever had. You stood in front of that mirror and stopped seeing a person worthy of love and respect and care, a person with worth and meaning. All you saw now was someone made entirely of flaws and imperfections, someone who didn’t have a single redeeming quality that someone could fall in love with.

You were sure that by now you could write someone a numbered list on all of the things that must have made Junkyu fall into someone else’s arms. You had decided that there was something wrong with your hairstyle, your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your cheekbones, your neck, your chest, your stomach, your arms, your hands, your thighs, your calves, even finding a way to choose multiple flaws in something as minuscule as your temples.

It was overwhelming, the constant crushing weight of feeling yourself rationalising the possibility of somebody cheating on you, on top of trying to give a timeline to events you couldn’t even be sure were genuinely happening. Your phone went off, alerting you both that someone was trying to get in contact with you again and that you were, indeed, crying again. Sniffling softly, you picked your phone up from the sofa, turning it over to see if it was Junkyu again.

[17:40] yedam: :(( are you still sick? If you are pls let me bring you some medicine…you’ve been sick for so long now

You felt your heart warm softly, the slight concern for making someone as sweet as Yedam anxious weighing down on your chest for a few small moments. Swiping at some of the tears still falling down your cheeks, you supposed that you should probably check the other constant loop of messages you’d gotten from friends – and namely, totalling up to over twenty from Junkyu – that you hadn’t responded to. Worry bit into you, although you couldn’t find the energy to give any of them a coherent response, you figured if you just told one of them they could circulate it around themselves and be content again.

[17:42] to yedam: yeah, i’m still not the best :(( sorry bub, but i promise i’m 100% fine!! i got myself some medicine today, i’ll be ready to go in a couple days

You sighed softly, preparing to drop your phone back face-down onto your sofa and go back to binge watching movies you’d already seen to make yourself feel better, however the sound of your phone dinging again you decided to check it again.

           [17:43] yedam: Oh my god!! A response!! I feel so special :)

          [17:43] yedam: Anyway…Junkyu’s been really stressed over this…maybe you should…you know, text him back

You felt the dramatic side of you flare up again, telling you that you should explain the situation to Yedam and have him help you in any way he thought he could. However, the rational side of you told you that he’d go right back to Junkyu to tell him everything you were thinking of. You felt like all of those people who said they were at, ‘the end of their rope,’ and you couldn’t even fully explain or figure out why you were so wound up.

More tears dripped down your face as you gave in, letting yourself lift your knees up onto the sofa and curl into yourself. Soft sobs left your lips as you reminded yourself that crying loudly was okay, because there was, as per usual nowadays, no one else here. Your phone dinged again, and again, going off a few times while you gave up on counting them, your sobs growing in volume. You let yourself continue on like this, feeling your breathing finally begin to even-out again as you reached over to curl your fingertips around your phone.

Lifting it closer to your face so you could check what the collection of texts had been. Your breathing that had just finished slipping back to a good, steady rhythm, it suddenly went off again, feeling as if your chest was being pressed down on again.

           [17:48] junkyu: you’re still sick?? is that why you haven’t been responding??

           [17:50] yedam: Okay I’m sorry but I told Junkyu you’re still sick

           [17:52] yedam: He’s just gonna come check up on you, ok? Don’t start worrying about how you look again bub I’m sure you look fine :) ily

         [17:57] junkyu: hi babe i’m kinda uh gonna be at ur place in 5 so pls open the door 4 ur favourite boy!!!

Coughing softly in an attempt to quicken the process of evening out your breathing, you checked the time, seeing it was already 6pm. You yanked yourself up to your feet, rushing down the hall to your bathroom and checking your splotched face. You fumbled, hands shaking as you gripped onto the cold steel of the cold tap and spun it, hearing the water splash against the sink as you closed your eyes and focused on pulling full breaths back into your lungs.

You took handfuls of the water and threw it onto your face, scrubbing it into your face and sighing when you saw the little it was doing to help clean up the evidence from crying on your face. Sparing a glance down to your outfit, you wished you could find the time to change, but you could already hear him knocking at your front door.

Heading back toward the front door, you could physically feel your heart moving up into your chest, your eyes clouding over with tears again of their own accord as you pulled the door handle down. Pulling the door open to reveal Junkyu, you almost let yourself cry again, feeling the mixed emotions clang together inside your chest and throat. Part of you wanted to cry at the relief of finally seeing him again, knowing you’d missed him more than you were ready to accept over the week, but the other part of you was reminding you that this was the boy who was going to break your heart.

“Baby!” He shouted, stepping into the apartment as he immediately swept you into his arms, locking them around your waist tightly as he tugged you impossibly close to him. “I wish you would’ve told me you were still sick sooner, I would’ve come.”

A pang of guilt ran through you at the sentiment behind his words, the feeling of knowing that he still cared for you rushing through you. Although, you pondered, could someone truly care about you if they were cheating on you, if they were doing something that would hurt you in the long run. You hummed in response, your arms curling themselves around him of their own consciousness.

He pulled back from you, his fingertips meeting yours and linking your hands together as he dragged you back in the direction of the living room. Seeing him navigate his way through the place you called home so confidently and naturally made an entirely different feeling wash over you, one of nostalgia and slight shame at the notion that you were lying to him purely because you doubted him so entirely. You weren’t entirely sure of what to do with yourself now that you had any lingering – or constant and overwhelming – negative feelings directed towards him. You’d never been caught in a position like this with him before, and now it left you wondering over how you were expected to act around the person you had definitively decided had cheated on you.

By the time you got far enough away from your thoughts to look at him confidently, you saw him smiling back softly, observing the way your face scrunched up in discomfort with worry ghosting on his features. “Do you think it’s a virus?” He began gently, keeping his voice low and whispered as if not to disturb a headache you didn’t really have.

His actions made you double-guess yourself, thinking back to what could now be construed as completely irrational threads of thought if he debunked them for you. The feeling of his hand coming to clasp yours warmly, gripping it within his own as he leant across to press a quick kiss to your cheek as if he was deeply concerned for you in your silence. Every piece of his actions made you desperate to flinch away, maybe in disbelief that this boy who was – in acceptance of the cheesiness of such a statement – literally made from honey with how sweet he was could possibly hurt you like this, or maybe more so for the belief that he’d see things you thought he’d fallen for, when in fact they could have been what ruined you. You could feel your hand begin to tremble as you felt the first salty trail of tears begin, wishing against all reality that they would just stop in their tracks before he noticed them.

Seven days’ worth of insecurity and shame smacked against you, washing over you like a wave and swallowing you up, spreading across your chest from the inside. You suddenly felt as if you were far too exposed, as if a hundred eyes were pointing at you like you had become some kind of exhibit. The examples of things to fixate on and hate about yourself suddenly sprung themselves to the forefront of your mind, your eyes shutting tightly as more tears fell against your mental protest. Insecurity had never, in all honesty, been something you had been good in any way at dealing with – perhaps, though, what you’d found comfort and honesty in before had been the things surrounding you, which, to your current dismay, must have always included Junkyu.

The weight of an arm wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you to be pressed safely against a sturdy chest made your heart speed up. Butterflies had been something you found yourself experiencing a lot with Junkyu, the knowledge that there was so much emotion and tenderness behind the small mundane actions always making you feel so swarmed with love. Now, though, the butterflies slammed against your rib-cage and made you feel like your head was pounding with some subdued panic you couldn’t fight.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed softly, pressing a flutter of feather-light kisses to your temple in order to calm your sobbing, “does it hurt?” He pressed forward, all the while tracing calming circles and minuscule hearts onto the skin of the hand still linked with his.

Your immediate reaction was to nod, and you found yourself doing so as your hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest to avoid the fear of him seeing you looking worse than you already pictured yourself. Your mouth opened and then closed again, and you found yourself scrambling to form a sentence of some kind that would summarise how you felt, what you were thinking, all the questions you had wanted to fire off at him since he’d left your apartment a week ago. But you just couldn’t find it within yourself, you couldn’t find the ability to question him when you were so sure you already knew why a boy like him would do this to a girl like you.

“Can I get you something, baby? Where does it hurt? Do I need to call someone?” Junkyu’s voice had risen slightly, making you wonder if you’d missed something he’d said in a haze while you fought to keep yourself hidden despite his protest. He seemed to be trying to figure out how bad you were feeling from looking at your face, but the panic that rose within you at the prospect of him doing so made your hold around him tighten.

His rush of panicked questioning only made the pit of confusion in your stomach open up further, and you couldn’t quite find a safe conclusion for all the things you were feeling at once. For a moment, his movements completely stilled, before he softly pushed you away from him, your body not having the strength to cling onto him any longer. As you slipped away from his body, his arms still firmly locked around your waist, you kept your eyes trained downwards, avoiding ever catching his eyes directly.

“Baby,” he began cautiously, “is…is something really wrong? Are you, like, badly sick? Do I need to definitely call someone?” The pure fear and apprehension tightened behind his words made the knot form itself back up in your throat, threatening to cover over the previous track of tears once again.

Shaking your head lightly, you knew that you didn’t have any room to manoeuvre a story in your favour anymore, that it was time to finally confess what was going on in your head to him. A searing jolt ran through you then, seeing the words tumbling past your chapped lips acting as a kind of finish line, as a brick wall on everything you’d built with Junkyu for the time ahead of you both.

“I’m not…Junkyu, I’m not sick.” You choked out, making sure to avoid looking into his eyes, knowing the moment you did would be the moment you lost all the strength to continue this conversation with him.

He tilted his head at you, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion, “What’s, what’s been wrong then?” For a moment, he stopped to wonder over something, before one of his hands found their way to cup your jaw, tilting your head upwards to look at him, “Why couldn’t you tell me there was something wrong?”

This question, although he didn’t know the meaning you were reading behind it, slapped you across the face. In all honesty, you knew you couldn’t be angry with him if he walked away from this, even if he had been entirely faithful, even if you were broken down by now, you couldn’t be angered by any reaction he had if he wasn’t at fault, because it was a painful thing to be accused of. You wondered what was worse – being accused of cheating on the person you loved most and were entirely faithful too, or feeling the need to accuse the person you loved most and trusted entirely of cheating.

“I’d have helped, whatever it was, you know that, right?” He questioned, his voice filling the silence and the hollow in your chest. At this, you searched across his face, trying to see if there was anything that could give you an answer before you dived head-first into the deep end of a conversation you didn’t ever want to have with him.

You exhaled softly, closing your eyes and willing the lump in your throat to just disappear, or maybe you were just wishing someone somewhere could give you some kind of extra emotional strength in that moment. “Junkyu, I, can I ask you a question? One that’s probably not…the nicest, I guess. I just…I need you to be completely honest when you answer me.”

Watching him intently, you observed the way he seemed to hesitate at the request. This immediately came across as a bad sign, a red flag that whatever his answer was it had to be picked at, it had to be torn apart until you could twist it into something you could believe. However, he nodded afterwards, swallowing thickly as his hands adjusted to slip more of your balled up fist into it, allowing you to feel the warmth of his palm as he tightened his hand back around yours.

You basked in this action, wondering if it would be the last time you’d get to feel his hand in yours. “Okay, I…” you sighed, moving your free hand to rub at your tired eyes before beginning again. “Are you cheating on me?” Once the words had actually left your mouth, the notion of not finding the confidence or the will to say them beforehand seemed almost comical. The easiness and fluency behind saying such a simply string of words and not thinking about the weight the order of them held was almost too funny to imagine being a difficult task.

At this, Junkyu recoiled, his mouth dropping open as his eyes narrowed at the space around, as if the words had become a physical thing he could see floating tauntingly in the air around him. “I, am I what? Why would…why do you even believe, for a second, that I even could do something like that to you?” The words left him in a jumbled, loud mess, but you knew what he was getting at.

How could you ever actually accuse him of cheating on you? What had made you believe that he had the ability to complete such a cruel act in the first place? If you were going to bring up the texts, you knew it had to be then. It was strange thinking about the concept now, your only proof and backing behind such a bold idea being two short texts that had popped up on his phone, that you could easily have asked him about seconds after you saw them. And now, you sat across from him, an entire week later, spewing a question that had so little to hold it up directly to his face.

“Junkyu, I, I saw some texts on your phone, from this…unknown number. And I get it, you probably think I’m overreacting, but they were weird texts, and I didn’t feel good about them.” You rambled, your empty hands now knotting together to tug at the fingers of each other in an attempt to escape the sheer anxiety building up inside you.

He looked confused for a moment, like he truly didn’t have any idea what you were talking about. “What, last week?” You nodded in response, dropping the eye contact as he huffed in response. “It’s been seven days! Why didn’t you just ask me about them if you felt weird about it? I would’ve answered!”

“You’re not answering now!” You scoffed, finally finding the courage to look up at him as he tilted his head at you in a lost manner again. Something about his actions made him seem almost childlike, as if there was no way possible he should be involved in a moment like this one.

He raised his hands to push his hair back out of his face, “Okay, okay, fine, I just, I don’t,” he paused to breathe in shakily, “you told me you didn’t see them.”

“Would it have been better if I didn’t? Are you…actually hiding something, Junkyu?” Your voice cracked at the end, the foreknowledge that he’d start crying soon under the pressure and strain of the argument starting to get to you.

You heard a small sniffle before he continued, “Well, I mean, yeah, but not for the reason you think it is, I…you, just, you lied to me, you know? I wish you would’ve just told me, baby. This isn’t…it’s not what you think it is.”

Having watched a lot of drama movies in your life, you knew that line was straight out of a cheater’s handbook. But, as he’d said earlier, looking at it in a full picture, did you really believe that Junkyu was genuinely able to do something like that? You weren’t so sure anymore, but the insecurity and fear inside of you was beginning to nip at your skin again, leaving you in an uncomfortable position of not even understanding your own logic.

“Then, what is it, Junkyu? I know I…I lied to you, I know, I just, I was scared. And I know you are, too, but if you did it…I get it, okay, I really do.” You breathed out, feeling a few stray tears escape to make their way down from your eyelashes only to be swiped at by the sleeve of your jumper.

At this, he seemed to jump as if you’d yelled at him, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to string together a sentence. “What are you talking about? You’d get it? Why…why would you understand someone doing something like that to you?”

“I didn’t say someone, I said you,” you began softly, a bitter laughing bubbling past your lips, “you’re, you know, you, and I’m, well I’m not exactly anywhere near your level, am I?”

Junkyu visibly startled, staring wide-eyed at you, looking more offended than when you’d posed your initial question. “I…baby, okay, um, let’s, take this one step at a time, alright?” You looked at him sceptically for a quiet second, nodding your head softly as he swiped harshly at the first tear to slip down his cheek.

“I didn’t cheat on you, okay? I wouldn’t. I’m, to be honest, I’m a little offended you think I’d ever do that, but, it’s, I can understand why it looks bad.” He fumbled about in the back pocket of his jeans for a second, pulling his phone forward so you could see it, skimming to tap in his password before re-opening the message thread again. Briefly, you wondered if this was something you actually wanted to see, but you knew you’d have to put your faith back in Junkyu as some point soon. He swiped up from a couple of messages, allowing you to briefly see the name had been changed to a saved contact, but you couldn’t read the screen from the angle you were at.

He turned the screen toward you, prompting you to read whatever was on it, as you took it from his hands. Your eyes skimmed across the messages as you felt your stomach rise from the pit it had been slumped into for the week behind you, although the guilt at your actions seeped into its place soon after.

The contact name simply read, ‘Mashi ♡.’ The texts underneath the one’s you’d seen all followed basic format, with normal day-to-day conversations and dumb jokes, Mashiho always finishing off the texts with little kisses or smiley faces. You were sure, from knowing him a while beforehand, that he did this with nearly everyone at some point or another during a conversation.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, “What…what was he talking about, then? It, just, I’m sorry, I just, I don’t understand, am I missing something?”

Junkyu chuckled softly, his eyes watery as he looked directly at you, “Yeah, uh, I wasn’t really supposed to tell you but, given the circumstances…we’re kind of, planning a surprise trip for you.” He shrugged, eyes leaving yours in an almost boyishly shy manner that you wouldn’t have expected to see from his earlier demeaner.

“A what?” You asked, a blush curling up to your cheeks as you looked down, unsure if the sudden bashfulness within you was from the embarrassment at your accusations or the sweetness behind their actions.

Junkyu hummed again, “You’ve just been stressed a lot lately, you know? So, we wanted to give you a break, take you somewhere nice, but…I know you hate planning trips, so we wanted to keep it a secret so it didn’t make things worse.”

You dropped your face into your hands, guilt flooding through you as you noticed just how kind both him and Mashiho were being about a situation you had no idea about. “Mashi just got a new phone, he, he asked me to give you his number but I forgot and then you got sick and I, I was gonna give it you when you were better.”

His ramble made you look up again, seeing his swipe at his cheeks again as he noticed the tears falling freely down your face for what seemed to be the millionth time that week. His hands moved to quickly cup your face, thumbs swiping tears away as he shook his head, “Don’t, don’t cry, it’s, I’m not angry, I’m a little upset, but, it’s okay, we’re okay, okay? Can you…can you tell me it’s okay? I just wanna fix this.”

Seeing his tears fall faster, you moved the fabric of your jumper to cover your hands and moved them to mirror his actions, swiping the sweater paws to catch the tears as they fell. He laughed lightly, smiling at you as grinned back at him, your head falling onto his shoulder at how ridiculous the situation seemed now. “There’s nothing to fix, I…I should’ve just asked, I’m so sorry, you know, I, I should never have let myself believe you could do that to me, or anyone.”

At this, he cleared his throat, rousing you from his shoulder and back into his line of sight. “We need to talk about what you said earlier, yeah?” You swallowed nervously before nodding, feeling his hands tug you up and into his lap. “I…can’t even begin to explain how wrong you are,” he mumbled, “how long have you been thinking like this?”

“Not long, I promise,” you began, watching as he seemed to breath out a sigh of relief, “I just, ever since I saw the texts, I guess. I just feel like I’m never gonna be able to be on the same…level as you, you know? I’m never gonna be good-looking enough for you, or have the perfect enough body type for you, I’m just never gonna be enough for you.” You said softly, your voice dropping into almost silence as you spoke.

Junkyu stayed quiet for a few minutes, as if trying to process and then understand the words being spoken to him. “No.” He said after you could feel the air begin to grow thick with apprehension of his answer.

You rose your eyebrows at him, “No?”

“You’re wrong.” He concluded, nodding once at you as if to lock the fact into your brain.

Unsure of how to argue with him on this, you simply sighed, “Junkyu, I, it’s okay. I’m okay just, being with you for as long as you need to find someone who’s…enough.”

Junkyu jolted underneath you, his hold on you seeming to tighten as his face curdled in disgust at your comment. “Baby…” he began against, his voice laced with weighed down sadness and panic, “that’s not, you shouldn’t ever lower yourself to think that way.” Just as you opened your mouth to confirm that in your mind, this was just a line in the sand, something you wouldn’t be able to cross with him for however long he stayed with you.

“No,” he interrupted your thoughts again, even gentler than before, “just, listen for a second, hm?” He waited a beat for you to nod in confirmation before beginning, “You’re enough. Not just for me, though, okay? You’re…hard-working, strong, smart, determined, kind, and…so, so much more, I don’t even have the words to begin describing you, you know? You just…you inspire me so much, and you don’t even know it. Everything you do is so beautiful and powerful and, don’t even get me started on your looks because I could talk all day. If you’re enough for yourself, then you’re far more than enough for me.”

You knew you were crying by the time he finished speaking, his hands had began flailing to hammer in just how specific he was being, his eyes shifting all around the room. When he finally looked back at you, a soft and shy smile turned the corners of his mouth up, his hands moving to swipe your tears away.

“Happy tears?” He checked, stooping his head down lower so he could finally look into your eyes again.

You nodded at him, a laugh falling past your lips, your head dropping further into his palm pressed to your cheek, “Happy tears,” you confirmed softly.

A bright smile lit up his features as he leant himself upwards slightly, his hand resting on your jaw bringing you close enough that your noses were touching, lips hanging centimetres apart from one another. “I know you say I don’t have to this anymore,” he began, making a laugh tumble past your lips again, “but, you know, can I kiss you?”

You nodded, your lips falling from their smile as he pressed his own against yours. The kiss was soft, his lips moving slowly and sweetly against yours as he dropped a single hand from your face to grab at one of the hands laid flat against his chest, curling his fingertips back around it. You felt his lips move upwards into a small as you squeezed his hand in response, you mirroring his action as he tightened his hand around yours in response.

[dabatcavebyhonie]

Marvel's Runaways- an example of a BAD idea

So imagine you wanted to a great comic book show. You buy a great cheap comic so you break the bank. But then you feel the pressure to have your loved characters appeal to a more modern audience. But there is a rift between the movie universe and the TV universe. So now you are left with a half baked story filled with holes and it is almost unrecognizable to the comics. Let us also not forget their horrible idea of re-writing the perspectives for the mass audiences. This is how you get the "cringy" monster that is the Hulu's adaptation of Runaways.

The first thing you must understand before tackling Runaways is that this Marvel property is heavily ingrained into the Marvel universe. In fact, one character from the comic book cast is the son of Ultron. Ultron, who MCU wrote off as someone short series of events.  Then that means that most of the events that occur in the comics become void. This leads to a rewriting of the events that occur in the TV show.

I broke the aspects of this ongoing show into three parts : Angst- the teen and the parent, stereotypes- I promise we're different,  dialogue- Who am I?

“I had choosen the path of the black sheep rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.”

― Magenta Periwinkle, Cutting Class

Angst- The teen and the parent 

     When you are first introduced to the nouveau-rich families of PRIDE  you see  parents with a wide range of jobs. This includes tech mongers, bio-chemists, and even spiritual leaders. By each family you see various color schemes graced across the screen. I assumed this TV show would be promising. Until you meet the children. I first became frustrated by the dynamics of the children. They're all stereotypes written out of a high school rom-com. At least for shows that Have stereotypes like  Daria you understand they're there to be unrealistic and mellow-dramatic. However this idea isn't valid for Runaways. The show is supposed to be relatable and fanciful at the same time. They're also not stereotypes in the graphic novel they're just themselves. This adds angst to the angst . Which this edgy behavior is supposed to replace the depth in their character. Take the biggest example of this: Nico. Her stereotype is that she's a goth so she's mean and does witchcraft and always cries about dead sister. Then in the later seasons she's hopelessly devoted to Karolina and this is supposed to add depth to her one dimensional personality.Her senitive love for Karolina is supposed to add depth- I just...No,no, no, UGH, Stop, please. I  can't with her. The big thing that makes her DEEP is that she's actually sensitive and gay. They use queer-bating to have her be more appealing. Then her stereotypical goth-ness solidifies the Goth norm-perception, it says,"Yes all goths are this way. They're all tortured and filled with teenage melodramatic behavior.".Her Wicca worship is another Goth stereotype. As a goth myself I do not condone the stereotypes that aren't accurate. I wish her character was more inspired like Abby from NCIS. The actor wantesd the  character to be more authentic and not just a stereotype like numerous other shows have.   Just no. Every time she slams her door a front of her mother's face or steals her mother's staff I'm just dumbfounded.   

   Karolina is the church girl stereotype. She waltzes across your screen in all white and reads Her bible-I-mean-her-religious-texts-that-don't-sound-like-Christianity-at-all. Then when she's tempted by the flesh of the witch! Oh no will they, Won't they? Spoiler alert: They will as we assumed with horrible LGBTQ+ characters as always. Her depth is her love for Nico. To the amount that her dreams while she's trapped in the first two episiodes of season three was her wedding with Nico. Granted it was goregous but her love is her character depth which is dissapointing since their relationship ends in season three.  They're both always moody and mad at each other but it's fine they love each other even though they only give each other a few pecks once in a while. Like don't make the mass audience mad cause we can't have too much gay! HAHA! For me it's less for the LGBTQ+ masses or to show representation it's written to sound and look pretty for the male gaze but hey! 

That's just me spreading my SJW bias like Gert does 24/4! Like is there an off button. Introducing the liberal complete with crippling anxiety and even "NO! I can't love a Lacrosse Jock! I hate the Patriarchy!". While no one shows up for her rally or her bakes sales she crushes over Chase who is rude to her. My father being heavily left-leaning said "Gert needs to go. Like she doesn't stop talking and ruins the show!". Like when I told him I was watching the new season he frantically asked why and asked if I was okay.

I'm getting off track. Anyway, The point is the only ones that love their family to start is Molly, Gertrude and Chase. But don't worry the only one that still loves her parents after is Molly (in some twisted way I guess Karolina.....ehhh). After seeing their parents kill a kid and shove them into a magical space tube instead of calling the police or rationally acting. They gain this amazing attribute called teenage angst. Except for Molly cause she doesn't get it. Granted the first season isn't that bad but the show only gets worse the farther you go into it. I especially have been carrying a special amount of disdain for season two. But I think that maybe the new season has promise since the teenage angst doesn't smell as bad so far but I'll give you guys an update on Tumblr. What was I saying ...So if you don't understand what I mean by the heavy angst take a new scene from season three when Dale (her dad) Has Gert hostage in their cottage. She goes on numerous rants on How much she hates him when like a year ago she was being somewhat rational by trying to think before she shouts and finger wag at her parents but now-speak your mind child! I find the teen vs. parent atmosphere.

However  This idea of teenage angst isn't unrealistic. But how general it is over every character is what makes the angst unrealistic. The original hesitation of Gert makes it feel more natural. Karolina's almost disregard to what they saw originally felt more real. The small responses from characters separates their personalities and makes season one much more entertaining.

Stereotypes- I promise we're different 

Now that you understand the edgy personality of the show as a whole let's move on to the content. You're introduced to a runaway teenager named Destiny she's mugged but "rescued" by the Church of Gibborim. Little do we realize these muggers were trying to save her. Six months later we're introduced to Alex Wilder, a stereotypical nerd, who loves coding. Nico Minoru the person Alex has a crush; her  sister died who was Alex's best friend, so now Nico's a goth. Okay, that's a lot. You then meet Gert, Chase and, Molly. Molly is younger then everyone else so she is disregarded when she tells everyone to become friends. Chase is a lacrosse jock but he's different cause he's smart I guess. Chase loves his family but his dad is emotionally abusive to him and his mom. It gives Chase a leader mentality and he tends to think he knows the right answer.

 Gert is a social justice warrior who tries to make her school a better place. But she's different cause she has anxiety. Tell me if my point isn't getting across, tell me. This show's "thing" is that everyone's a stereotypes but, they're different, I guess;Which would usually be fine if it wasn't apart of such a big intellectual property: Marvel. Granted when it comes to movies and TV I never said Marvel story-lines were ever complex but the shows always Go outside the prior assumptions, it's not all stereotypes. 

Take for instance, Agents of Shield.  Take Coulson who literally was resurrected fro the dead. He is hard and stern like he was depicted in the movies but we learn about his strife and how he worked alongside Nick to build S.H.I.E.L.D. to what it is. He has control issues so he has to adopt the mindset that Nick has. It's new and interesting to the MCU audience. Melinda May, is an Ace pilot and personally my favorite simply due to her character writing. Her divide between her reputation versus who she is. She's known as " The Calvary" after all. She has trauma from a mission that killed a civilian which leaves her emotionally scared. This isn't a new concept but seeing her grow and becoming better emotionally gives the audience connections to the characters.

 Every character is written with steady care and good character writing. We feel sad When Coulson dies yet again. We feel the inner turmoil Skye and May feel. The connection isn't there in these hollow stereotypes. The connection to the audience in Runaways is what's making the show stale. The TV show characters are pale imitations of the comic book characters. It's hurts the show in the long run.  

dialogue-Who am I?

The most important thing that makes this show salvageable is the dialogue. No, I don't only mean the words coming out their mouths but the story-line that's surprisingly controlled by the parents. The superficial cold teenagers that only show disdain towards their parents and easily toppled by their Parents beckoning and call. For instance in season 2, Chase betrays his whole team to have his family back after his dad dies. He thinks they'll lose so quickly when  he's left alone with them. You see their guard come down so quickly around their providers. Yet they can never forgive them. This is obvious in Alex's case. His hatred towards his parents lead him to the arms of his father's enemy become's angry when his mother retaliates and kills Darius, but is vexed when his father is calling him. Responds just by his mother threatens him from jail in season three. Why does Nico stop to talk to her Dad in season three, episode "Lord of Lies". I'm going  to keep watching just because of the dynamic of the kids and parents. Especially as the parents are inhabited by parasitic aliens it's changes this complex dynamic yet again. Along with Nico's inner turmoil involving her magic and the forces that are utilized with her staff headlines the dialogue and plot I love so much. I will continue to watch as this tale unfolds.

Conclusion: This show is complex recycling heap. I find it hard to watch and a grotesque figure I can't move away from. I find it a good surface level adaptation. I find it messy but it's not entirely predictable! I appreciate how invested the actors are in their characters! I hope to continue watching the show to see how  the plot moves.  

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 5x20 Spiral

aka cause you had a bad day

Welcome to this dailyish (weekly? bi-weekly?) text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and go on an impromptu rant about it for an hour. Is it about one hyperspecific thing or twenty observations? 10 or 3k words? You don’t know! I don’t know!!! In this house we don’t know things.

And I’m not sure yet what to focus on with today’s action-packed transition-y episode that’s part of our big finale saga, but I do know how to sell it to you. Woman with sword throws axe to murder a man. There, that’s my elevator pitch for Tumblr.

Spiral is relentless in its pace and is yet also weirdly static - which actually works for its story. Buffy decides that as she can’t fight Glory, they all need to get the fuck out of Sunnydale. They’re on the move for most of the episode, but they’re only delaying the inevitable, and in a classic ironic twist, end up inviting their enemies to their doorstep.

I guess, first of all, let’s talk about these crusaders, because oh boy. It’s rare for Buffy to kill another human being, but these guys are just dropping like flies in this episode. One of them even got an axe into his chest.

Which got me thinking, because I recognized the writer of Spiral, Steven S. DeKnight primarily from his Angel credits. (He was apparently a story editor for season 6 of Buffy though which… yeah, I can see that.)  And suddenly these crusade guys with their weird religious ties and their supposed war with Buffy made much more sense. They would be a perfect fit in Angel the series.

In Buffy’s world… maybe not so much. But the world of Buffy is also ever-evolving. Just as Buffy herself grows and changes a lot with each season, so do her enemies and the challenges and dilemmas she faces.

Speaking of Buffy’s enemies… Let’s talk about Glory I guess. And on an unrelated note, Ben.

Now, I know that Glory is one of people’s favorite Big Bads. And I get it. This is a wonderful, highly entertaining performance by Clare Kramer, not to mention that she’s one of the only female Big Bads the show has throughout its run. (Other than Willow in s6, I guess?? And of course The First has no gender.) Still, I mostly avoided discussing her throughout the season, because there are several rabbit holes that we can go down when it comes to Glory, and I don’t have the capacity to lead us through any of them.

First, there’s the idea of Glory being some kind of representation of mental instability. Her condition is also strangely… infectious? What with her messing with other people’s heads to ease her own state of mind.

So I guess in that sense, we could interpret it more as Glory perhaps continuing a cycle of abuse? Making other people suffer in the way she has in order to momentarily make herself feel better? Idk guys, I’m reaching here and I’m way out of my depth.

I also remember Glory having a great speech in an episode or two from now that’ll probably be a better base for an interpretation anyway, so let’s put a pin on that.

Of course, what this episode chooses to focus on more is the other association we have of Glory. And Ben.

As Buffy and Wade Williams were talking about Glory being trapped “in the body of a human male”, I couldn’t help but feel like we were leaning on a transgender / gender-fluid metaphor? Maybe?

I AM VERY OUT OF MY DEPTH HERE.

Which is why I’m not even gonna try and further dissect what the show is saying or trying to say here, and in what ways it can be interpreted. I have no takes or a valuable perspective to add, even after a whole season of trying to figure it out. So I’ll just leave it at acknowledging that there’s something there. I’m unsure of what that is, but it’s something.

Something tangential that I’ve been thinking about though, is how the show isn’t really trying to sell us on a Glory - bad, Ben - good duality. We’ll see that in the finale too, but even as early as episode 9, Ben is revealed to have summoned the alien demon who was murdering mental patients.

This creates an interesting dichotomy, where Ben, a mostly decent guy becomes unsympathetic through inaction, and Glory, a self-obsessed hell-demon who wants to murder all of our heroes becomes sympathetic through her honesty.

The truth is, Glory is irredeemable, but it’s not like she wants to be redeemed. She’s self-aware of who and what she is and what her goals are. She’s consistent in her chaos. She’s the devil you know.

Meanwhile Ben is a nurse, but it’s more out of a desire to feel close to people and humanity, than a genuine want to help them. He summons the alien demon to “clean up Glory’s mess”, and despite protecting Dawn’s identity, he mostly he just seems annoyed with Glory, rather than understanding the danger she poses to Dawn and all of humanity, and the role he plays in it. He just wants to live.

Glory is an evil force of nature whose single-mindedness and candid attitude is strangely comforting. Ben is painfully human with understandable motivations and a moral ambiguity we could relate to.

And, as always, there’s Buffy.

Buffy who is terrified and doesn’t know what to do. Still, I actually admire the fact that she took action. Running away is often demonized as a concept, but there are many forms that that can take.

Avoiding your problems is usually a bad instinct, and one that can worsen and snowball your issues into something much, much worse. But not every situation in your life is one where you should or will be able to pick fight over flight. Sometimes we really do need to remove ourselves from a root cause in order to process and move forward.

Granted, when Buffy does that at the end of season 2, it mostly just ends up putting her in a whole depression funk. But it’s hard to cope when you feel like you have no support to rely on.

This is of course a very different case though, almost on the opposite spectrum. Buffy isn’t just running away from her problems - she��s trying to keep her friends and family safe. She doesn’t think that she can protect them, so she’s removing all of them from the conflict for the time being.

In addition, in a conversation with Dawn when talking about all the things that’s happened, she says “Riley. Glory. Tara. Mom”. Four names. One is representing Buffy’s fears of her emotional unavailability. One her fears of not being strong enough to match the evil in this world. One her fears of not being able to protect and save the people she loves. And one is the helplessness she feels in the face of things and deaths she has no control over.

And then it all culminates in the last scene where all of those fears come to ahead. Glory takes Dawn as Buffy watches, helpless, from behind Willow’s magical barrier.

Is it any wonder that it breaks her? She’s had a really bad day. And it’s not getting any better.

Meanwhile I identify with Xander’s motion sickness, and with literally everyone trying to take care of Tara in the gang. It’s fine.

It’s always darkest before… it gets even darker, because this is Buffy, and we’re here for that sweet sweet emotional catharsis we get out of suffering through the pain.

Next up is even more depression. Stay tuned!

[osleyakomwonkru]

Blog Summary Tag Game

Find your fandom kru and help them find you. Answer the following and include the tag #the100blog in your answer, then tag some of the blogs you follow. @johnmurphysreddit came up with this idea, I’m here via @blodreina-noumou

1. What are your primary topics?

As the username will imply, everything surrounding Octavia Blake. Lots and lots of meta. So much meta. I will have a story behind every action she takes. I’m especially concerned about her mental state, so that comes up a lot. She needs help not hate. This is why I decided to create The 100 Mental Health Awareness Week, which I encourage everyone to participate in with their favourite characters next week.

Also, same username on AO3, where I have over 100k of Octavia-centric fanfic.

Occasionally I make photoedits. Not much in the way of GIFs yet, I’m still trying to figure out a way how to make them (I managed one, but that was only because I found a phone app and could use a shot from the trailer). If anyone can tell me how to make that happen from episodes and on a computer, that would be awesome.

2. What tags should a visitor check?

Well, I’m a fairly new Tumblr user, so just a scroll-through will tell you what you need. Most of my meta is tagged with #the 100 meta but not all of it will be, especially the earlier posts.

I tag anti posts (usually anti-Bellamy/Kane/Abby), but I also have perhaps an unpopular opinion as to what constitutes “anti”. “Anti” is deliberate hateposting about a character. Facts are not “anti”. Disliking someone and pointing out their mistakes is not “anti”. If you come to my blog and find the facts uncomfortable, that’s your issue, not mine.

I also need a lesson on how to reblog things. I very very rarely reblog, and only if I’ve got something to add. I know the attribution is there and everything, but reblogging makes me uncomfortable because it feels like I’m taking credit for someone else’s work. Which is why most of what you’ll find on my blog is my own work. Someone please tell me that reblogging is fine and cool and encouraged so that I do it more.

3. What do you love about The 100?

All the moral questions and ambiguity. That’s the main thing. I love that there’s so much complexity, so many impossible questions, and yet somehow people still have to answer them.

I love the pain. I love the anguish. But I also want love, I want healing, I want peace.

I also love that this show includes so much diversity - sexuality, race, ability, age, etc. - and that it just exists, naturally, and that’s the world. A world where the -isms of our time no longer exist, and people can just be and focus on different struggles.

My favourite living characters are Octavia, Niylah, Jackson, Echo and Murphy.

My favourite ships are Linctavia, Niytavia and Mackson.

4. What do you hate/what frustrates you about The 100?

Two big things, mostly in the fandom:

1. Ship wars. Particularly the Clexa/Bellarke/Becho triangle, because I have absolutely no emotional investment in any of those ships. I could care less who Clarke or Bellamy are fucking. Plus I love that romance is not the focus of the show, there’s so much more to life than just romance.

2. Hypocrisy. This exists both in-world and in-fandom. They’ve all done all sorts of horrible things, for various reasons, but only some characters *cough*Octavia*cough* get shit on for it by everyone. I’m sick of it.

My least favourite living characters are Kane, Abby and Bellamy.

My NOTPs are Clexa and Kabby.

5. Is this exclusively a The 100 blog?

Yes! And I’m dearly looking for other The 100-exclusive pro-Octavia blogs to follow.

6. What else should people know?

Umm, I like chocolate? I don’t know. Like, reblog, message me to rant about Octavia, it’s cool. I like in-depth discussions about stuff, especially Octavia. You don’t have to agree with me on all things, but you do need to be able to have a rational conversation.

I am a self-avowed Octavia stan, but that doesn’t mean I agree with or follow her blindly. I just happen to believe she’s right most of the time. I also heavily consider her mental state in just about everything she does, because yes, it matters, and if she were sane, there were some choices she’s made that she wouldn’t have. She’s a beautiful and powerful badass, but she’s also horrifically broken and needs understanding and empathy from the people around her (as a start) so that she can begin to heal. I believe she has severe depression and PTSD, she’s been a death seeker and alternately actively/passively suicidal since season 4, and also has minor cases of DID (dissociative identity disorder) and/or BPD (borderline personality disorder). Among potentially others.

Mental health: It matters. Especially for her, and that’s one of the reasons why I can’t help but empathize with her. Why I want better things for her. Why I want her to be able to live, not just survive.

Tag some blogs... umm... @easilydistractedbyfanfic @pro-octaviablake @apocalyptist ... I’m bad at tagging people. Go for it, if you want to.