#<- intended audience ofc

[conflictofthemind]

I know someone (well, a few people to be honest but I'm mainly going off their info) who keeps very close track of filming details and schedules as well as monitoring the actors' whereabouts - and oh boy it is not looking good for the ol' Milkvan in this first half of the season.

As in, Finn and Millie have had very little shared set days and are definitely not on the same or even similar schedules. They're also not filming at the same places; they are fairly certain that Millie has not shot a single day at the farm despite it seeming to be a large plot and location also one where we have confirmation Finn and Noah have filmed and likely filmed there this week too.

They think that El's main pairings will probably include the Byers-Hopper family (obviously), Jo/pper separately at some points, and Lucas, as well as perhaps another individual plot. Keep in mind this is just what's been shot already. But other than Mike visiting the radio station at what appears to be the beginning of the season they can't place them together at any other location yet.

Compare this to J/ancy and Jo/pper, which they know are shooting together at multiple scenes, and Lucas' whole plot revolving around waking up Max....

[sunlitmcgee]

hey I wanna try something

the mix will be better the winner and the second place! I have ideas for an original species type deal, but am unsure exactly what bits to add together!

[theballmighty]

Strive fans posting about BlazBlue designs being horny (derogatory), Kotaku putting out another article about how Hades II is the kind of sexy we need right now. Yoko Taro saying Stellar Blade is better than Nier Automata isn’t real because Stellar Blade is for gooners and Nier Automata is a good game. It’s tiresome. It’s all so tiresome. “Safe horny” and ethical consumption of tits is so fuckin lame and stupid and fake.

[fruitycircus]

btw if there's a slim to none chance of the next nintendo console getting teased at the direct i'm gonna say a hot take

i do not care for the idea of the switch 2

[firedragon1321]

You can steal this, btw.

[steevejr]

I know I’m the only person on earth who does this but every time I read a book I wonder who the intended audience is. and if that’s the audience the writer wrote for or if that’s the audience that they ended up with.

[nightfal1n]

[Okay, accidentally stepped on internet reaction abt kn8 ep8 so gotta rant here]

"He should be glad it didn't want to kill him" ...like man this guy insist on fighting kaijuu despite his family, his former comrade tell me he's gonna die. What's the point in living if he can't put his life on the line to protect his subordinates. Why bother live longer if someone needs to fight and die in his stead... I mean, bro, stop thinking about who is the best for a second but hey what do I expect O)-<

[clairedaring]

i know ch3 probably won't ever put them in a bl series ever again but WHAT IF... LIKE... if i had a coin for every actors who did the 'tee bundit directed bl series -> ch3 lakorn' pipeline, i'd have two which isn't much but it's crazy they're in ch3 most high budgeted series right now playing cousins

[morallygay]

ahhhhhhhhhh i love the way hxh is written. the factual pure portrayal devoid of judgement. the realistic characters and natural exposition. the cause-and-effect while also very complex plot. realism, in one word. how i yearn for more artful writing like this

[scar-crossedlvrs]

Imagine.. (smut)

Chris or anyone basically forcing leon to go get loose at a Club and then he end up getting a hot dance with reader... Leon decides to ask her number and they meet up pne or two times. From there on, maybe their friendship starts forming.

Please dont feel obliged to do it ofc!

Leon S Kennedy - Won't You Follow My Body Rhythm ?

I immediately thought of re2 / rookie!leon when i read this, so i hope you don’t mind being my first try at rookie!leon. please try to enjoy my 2nd public attempt at smut and my longest piece of writing as of late.

i 100% didn't listen to this song like half the time i was writing this so honorary title.

cw for: smut, f / afab!reader, alcohol consumption, oral ( f receiving ), public-ish?, leon's real awkward, s.t.a.r.s chris redfield

18+ minors do not interact. gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

“Dude, just try and relax.”

Chris’s voice was muted by the sounds of the crowded club, despite his proximity.

“When you said we were going out for drinks, this isn’t what I expected.” Leon shouts over the music, raising his drink to his lips. “I thought we were going to the usual spot.”

There’s a laugh from the other man. “It won’t kill you to try something new every once in a while, rookie.” Chris claps a hand to the blonde’s shoulder. “Besides, this isn’t so bad. Pretty sure the girl at the bar’s been eyeing you since we walked in.”

“I doubt it.” Leon rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink. Despite his words, his eyes move to scan the direction Chris had indicated, unable to see much in the dim lighting. “I don’t see anyone even glancing in my direction.”

“Fine, don’t trust me.” Chris rolls his eyes in turn and shrugs. “I’m not sulking in the corner all night with you though. Jill should be here any minute, just try and do something fun while I’m gone.”

Before Leon could protest, the other man disappeared into the crowd with a casual wave.

He was going to need another drink.

At least one.

—

Elbows propped against the bar, you bring your drink to your lips as someone pulls out the stool next to you.

“I hope you don’t mind if I sit here?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance over to him. “ It’s the only spot open.”

He had caught your attention earlier, your eyes glued to him since he had walked into the club. Up close, you had a better look at his handsome features, pretty blue eyes framed by a fringe of dirty blonde hair and a jawline you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers along. He’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting to look anywhere but directly at you.

Cute.

“Go ahead.” red painted lips curl upwards as you gesture to the seat. “I won’t bite you.”

A relieved smile blooms across his face and his shuffling stops as he slides into the seat, doing his best to catch the attention of the busy bartender so that he could order.

“First time here, no?” you break the quiet between you after his drink is placed in front of him, curious.

His brows raise as he sips at the overpriced old fashioned. “Is it that obvious?”

“Has been since you walked in the door.”

There’s a sudden look of realization at your words, and his face is suddenly tinged pink. You let out a stifled laugh at the reaction, only causing the blush to spread a little bit further down his neck.

“Don’t worry, you just need to relax a bit.” you reassure him with a smile.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that tonight.” he chuckles slightly, letting some of the tension in his shoulders drop. “Chris wouldn’t stop saying the same thing.”

“And he’s right. You should.” your eyes glimmer in the dim lights as you lean a little closer to him. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few ideas to help you out.”

He’s flustered again, thanks to the mixture of your proximity and the suggestion in your tone. Sputtering into his drink, his eyes widening in shock. “I…” his voice trails off as he glances away from you once more.

“Oh, calm down.” you straighten back up with a laugh, easing some of the closeness between the two of you. “Just teasing a little.”

The words do little to lessen the blush on his face as he stares into his drink. “Right. I knew that.”

“Sure, I’ll believe you this time.”

He falls quiet for a moment, sipping on his drink as the flush ebbs from his face slowly. “The name’s Leon by the way. Leon Kennedy.”

His eyes finally find yours again as he speaks and you nod, offering both your name and your hand to him in turn. Leon hesitated for a moment, before taking your hand in his firm grasp. Your lips curl upwards, hand lingering in his as your eyes glitter mischievously.

“Well, Leon.” Your words are slow and deliberate. “I think I’ve got the perfect way for you to let loose a little bit. C’mon.”

You quickly down the rest of your drink with your free hand as your fingers tighten around his. Slipping off of your barstool, you tug at his hand. Confused, he reluctantly finished his own drink before following you as you led him towards the dance floor.

“Oh, no. No, no, nope.” Leon blurted out the moment he realized. “Not happening.”

“Yes it is, I promise it’ll be fun.” you stop somewhere in the mass of already dancing bodies, pulling him closer and guiding his hands to your waist.

“I can’t dance, I’ll just embarrass myself and you.”

“Nobody’s paying attention. It’s easy. Besides, I’ll do all the work. Just follow my rhythm okay?”

Despite his protests, Leon’s hands remained on your waist albeit rather stiff. Taking this as a good sign, you drape your arms over his shoulders and inch a little closer. “Just move with me and try to have a little fun. It’ll come to you.”

Hips move, and you ignore the fast pace of the pulsating music to instead ease him into the movements. It didn’t take very long for his tense shoulders to relax under your touch, the hands on your waist slipping lower to grip at your hips. Satisfied with this reaction, you pick up the tempo, matching that of whatever was blaring over the speakers. He has to take a moment to adjust but quickly corrects, tugging you closer to him.

Before long you’re pressed close to his body, his chest against your back as your hips grind into his. Fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place and you bring a hand to his neck, pulling his face a little closer as a smile blossoms across your lips.

“I told you it was easy.”

—

“Oh fuck.”

The words spill from your parted lips, back pressed against the car door uncomfortably as his tongue drew messy circles around your clit as fingers pressed into your thighs.

This was becoming a familiar sight, the two of you sprawled in the ever so slightly too small backseat of Leon’s beat up Jeep after one too many drinks. You had slipped him your number that night, before he could be swept away by his original companion. Since then, he had been calling at least weekly to meet up.

You never declined.

And it usually ended with your dress hiked up to your waist and his face buried between your thighs.

Who knew the awkward guy you met at the club, the one that swore he couldn’t dance, was a natural when it came to eating pussy?

“You look so pretty like this.” eager, icy eyes stare up at you as Leon pulls away from your dripping cunt for only a moment before diving back in with a soft groan. “ ‘n you taste so sweet.”

Manicured fingers weave their way into his hair as lewd mewls escape you. The tug on his scalp only acts to encourage him, lips closing around the bundle of nerves as he inches you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Lee ‘so good.” breathless, you manage to whine “ ‘m gonna cum.”

He hums against your clit, his grip leaving one of your thighs in order to slip two of his fingers into your slick, clenching cunt only adding to the already overwhelming sensation of his tongue.

“You can do it, pretty. Jus’ let go.” he urges, fingers moving, curling to find just the right spot causing you to buck your hips upwards.

Fingers tighten against his scalp as you feel the tightly wound knot within you snap, vision blurred as your orgasm washes over you in waves. Teeth sink hard into your lower lip, barely able to hold back the stream of whiny swears that spilled from your lips as you came undone around his fingers.

Leon stayed buried in your pussy as you rode out your high, eagerly lapping at the mess you made until you released your grip on his hair. There’s a dorky smile plastered on his lips as he finally raises up, wiping the mess of slick and saliva from his face with an arm as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna have to take you out on a real date, right?”

[centrally-unplanned]

I'ma explain the Stardew Valley fascism thing because I am bored and sometimes explaining obvious things is good for your brain. So the idea here is that "the simple country life" of farming, hanging out your small town neighbors, building an elaborate produce gift-based harem, and existing in perpetual tranquility with them is very appealing to fascist/reactionary aesthetics. Cosmopolitan urbanity is a disease, a blight upon society, sucking the spirit of the yeoman people out of their souls and blending it with degenerate races/liberals until they are too weak and dependent to fight the forces of globalism and they cope by being gay living in the pod. If the people could just return to the land, work by the sweat of their brow, they would have beautiful blond wives and their spirit/t-levels would soar to the heights God intended for us. Or whatever. So Stardew Valley is an indulgence of that fantasy by letting you reject urbanism, embrace tradition, and thus it has fascist aesthetics.

The problem here is A: what the fuck you are talking about, and also B: misunderstanding cause & effect. The appeal of farm life does not cause a fear of rootless jews queering your children outside of the most banal ways, the fears come first, the farming life is stapled on. Which you know, because everybody loves the farm life as a fantasy! Not in practice, obviously, which is why its a video game and not an agribusiness contract. But we all love the fantasy of a beautiful farm in the countryside, being one with the earth and baking rustic dinners in bronze kitchenware on hand-carved wooden tables. Since 90% of people don't take that fantasy and blame its lack of actualization in their lives on filthy immigrants, its probably not the causal factor in these things! People liking trees is not problematic because it has (virtually) no political implications without a ton of other context. Most people have more than one fantasy after all, often contradictory ones.

But if you are a political radical doing propaganda on the internet, its far more appealing to the audience (which includes yourself) if your vision is all-in, has the carrots and the sticks. For some the insane rush of a totalitarian world order wiping clean the slate of human society and re-ordering it according to your own mercurial whims is enough regardless of why, but for some (pathetic losers ofc) out there they need a little more juice, something concrete. So its married to reactionary aesthetics for the full picture, that this political order will deliver the farm life unto you. That works because, again "everybody" likes the farm life, that is way of broadening the appeal. But its neither the problem with the vision nor the cause of the political ideology. Some people who authentically like the farm life become farmers, you can just do that. Most don't, because they just wanna play a video game.

To clarify, what I am not saying is that the "reactionary aesthetics" are irrelevant and could be swapped out. My point is that instead they are universal. They are normally built out of uncontestably positive things. Those blond tradwives are hotties! Wheat is pretty and tastes good! You can't remove that from culture outside of being a fascist yourself. None of that makes fascism what it is, its all the other stuff. And when people make media out to be fascist, they are almost always bringing in from the outside 99% of the secret sauce. It is case by case of course, there is authentically authoritarian media out there. But in practice, 90%+ of these accusations are "Stardew Valley is fascist" level. Its a very silly debate to get drawn into.

[irrealisms]

so like the thing is. in many ways the dsmp seems like it ought to be more similar to film acting than it is to theatre-- you've got a close-up camera on you! a lot of the differences are often boiled down to that: theatre is more exaggerated, more full-body, because you're performing to an audience that is far away. film has a camera close on you so it tends more realistic and subtle. BUT the dsmp is actually!! way more like theatre in a lot of ways!!! to the point of REINVENTING theatrical devices that have largely fallen by the wayside in film

the dsmp has soliloquies. it's got asides. you see the same actors playing different characters. you have the tacit understanding that what you see on stage is not always what is literally happening in the story's world, but a symbolic representation. it's aware of audience, it interacts with and talks to the live-reacting audience!!

which i am. obsessed with, tbh! when tommy mutes in conversation with sapnap to say to chat "we're not going to team with him, chat, obviously we're not" before unmuting and saying "yeah, okay, let's team"--when wilbur on the 16th looks at the camera and holds up his hand when they're asking who the traitor is--when technoblade types and deletes "INVIS POTS DONT LAST THAT LONG" in in-game chat while talking to dream--these are all giving information to the audience abt the characters' internal thoughts, in ways that are much more typical of stage theatre than film! it's unusual for a character in a movie or tv show to say things (or take actions) in a conversation that are inaudible to the other characters in that conversation and intended for the audience. film tends to convey information about the characters' thoughts in other ways! it's a very Stage sort of thing, and i doubt they were thinking of it that way, it just sort of naturally emerges from having a live audience that they're entertaining + the ability with livestream technology to communicate things to the audience while being actually imperceptible to the other characters

and ofc whenever they are alone they are not silent, nor do they rely on voiceover or framing devices such as a diary to communicate their inner thoughts--they narrate their thoughts aloud, to the audience. they walk around and sometimes they have conversations with their donos but just as often they soliloquize! i'd include examples here as well but it's so ubiquitous, tbh, tommy does this, sam does this, ranboo does this, techno does this, wilbur does this, jack manifold does this, niki does this, everyone does this constantly. and it makes sense given the medium but that's also so fascinating to me! because again i really doubt they were thinking of it that way, it's just the obvious thing to do, the obvious extension of streaming commentary!

point is. dsmp stage show. I'm Normal About It

[genericpuff]

Hii hope im not bothering you but i saw that post you made about rs never intending for the rape subplot because she initially didn't put a trigger warning. I don't really agree with that reasoning tho because i don't think it's really a proof for that, authors often times forget to put triggers but that doesn't mean they don't recognize it for what it was. There's a horror webtoon i read where in one chapter someone gets assaulted and it's clearly shown like assault but the first version also never had a tw until people complained about it. Years ago when LO began there was less awareness for the necessity of tws so i think it was just rs not realizing she needed to put one? ofc it could rlly be retcon but i don't think her not initially putting a tw is proof of that..

Oh okay, so here's the thing, if it were just Rachel forgetting to put the trigger warning, then no, I wouldn't be so hard on her about it. I mean, I'd still be hard on her because that's a pretty bad thing to forget to do, but I wouldn't be assuming it was because she didn't know it was assault.

But it wasn't her just "forgetting" to put the trigger warning. Granted, I wasn't there personally, but according to the readers who were there at the time, she literally had her Discord explain to her why there needed to be a trigger warning for the assault episode. Not "there needs to be a trigger warning for the sake of your audience's comfort and safety" type explanation, I mean full on "there needs to be a trigger warning because that scene is assault, not just bad sex" explanation.

And honestly, the narrative that follows that scene tends to support this. From Persephone inviting Apollo into her room to try and reason with him, to the fact that she still hasn't personally addressed the assault outside of that initial Eros conversation and the one therapy episode despite that scene happening 5 years ago (but god knows we get plenty of takes from her friends who feel affected by what Apollo did, not the actual victim though) to Apollo flip-flopping between being a genuinely abusive and manipulative narcissist who does it intentionally and a flat out airheaded idiot who just doesn't have a clue. It really just feels like despite Rachel confirming it as an SA in the Eros episode back in S1, she's still treating it as a "one night stand gone sour" situation.

And we've seen her apply this same type of flippant "haha they just don't get along!" mindset to other characters who have been abusive to each other, such as Hades and Demeter (I'm still looking for the screenshot but there IS one out there of a fan in the FB group who theorized that Hades and Demeter had a romantic past only for Rachel to respond that they're "like coworkers at the staff party who can't get along", and yes, this was recent enough for us to be aware of what Hades actually did to Demeter) and also Hades and Minthe who we DO have a screenshot for:

(that top one aged like milk, oof)

Rachel has a bad habit of not putting trigger warnings even today, and it doesn't seem to be out of simple "forgetting", she legit just doesn't seem to understand why people ask for the trigger warnings that they do in the first place. She can't seem to conceptualize these types of topics outside of her own extremely limited perceptions. Sometimes she fixes it like with the Demeter "intervention" episode (Episode 230) other times she just leaves it as is despite it DESPERATELY needing a trigger warning like the Hera and Kronos flashback sequence in Episode 233.

This is the same person who didn't think sexism was "that bad" until she saw how her audience treated characters like Demeter... but she's literally the one instigating that behavior by constantly making her female characters the butt of abuse and mockery.

"I feel like female characters in general, people will be a little harsher on them and sometimes way harsher on them, and I used to be like.. before I started writing the story and like making a story I was like yeah, sexism is not that bad, and [now] I was like oh it's bad. It's quite bad [laughs], so like, I don't know, I feel like the female characters in the story don't get so much of a pass. But this isn't consistent across the board, it's not all the time"

It wouldn't be right of me to outright say that Rachel hasn't experienced any hardship in her life, but the fact that she seems this blind to violence towards women in any capacity definitely says a lot.

Anyways, that got really off topic so I'm hoping that answered your question. My belief in Rachel not knowing it was assault goes a lot further than just a forgotten trigger warning amounting to a brief "oopsie". And while I get the point of what you're saying about awareness around trigger warnings, I disagree that the awareness wasn't there, this was 2018 and trigger warnings aren't a new concept in media, they just went by another name until recently - viewer discretion is advised.

That said, if anyone who was there wants to speak up on the trigger warning incident, please, I'd welcome it. Bring me all the deets.

[familyabolisher]

I’d love to hear more about the terrible thing at the edge of the lake! It’s really well written, and idk if i was just projecting or if you’re so skilled that you made it clear that Anthony lived his childhood as a girl without ever really saying it. Genuinely, i don’t know how you did that.

lake story commentary under the read more >:)

yeah i mean, as you say, the crux of this story is that our narrator is a trans man. i threw in a handful of clues that gestured towards the fact:

the name being the very first thing we learn about him, and the fact that he takes pride in it (& feels the need to share that pride with his "audience"). it's a chosen name; he is a pretty pretentious guy, and he wants us to see the artistry behind it. the story closes with him telling us that he "[has] been Anthony Misha Cohen ever since" he entered the lake; with what the lake represents in the story, this is him telling us that he decided to transition.

that the dead fox "made no advances" on the dead rabbit, and "thus disproved that claim to all of Nature’s predispositions being wholly ineluctable"; this is, of course, a gesture towards biological determinism. anthony points it out to us because that's what he's trying to focalise in telling this story. a lot of the piece is about agency versus inevitability, what we do and what is done to us. in the end, he chooses to act rather than be acted upon, which is how he is able to articulate his transness.

that one of the body parts thrown up by the lake is a severed breast; ha ha, top surgery, etc. looking at this more broadly, the narrative focus turning to these individual, isolated body parts ("Ought the lake to have thrown up a whole human body for my taking? It never did.") was intended to speak to a sense of alienation induced by dysphoria.

to speak a little more broadly, the story is in part about finding yourself coming into conflict with narratives of "coherence," which is to say, normativity, and (as i glossed in the second bullet point) about agency vs. subjectivity. i like to read the lake in the passage from streetcar that i referenced as representative of what lies outside the limits of heteronormativity; if you don't know, this specific passage has blanche describe the time she accidentally caused the suicide of her gay husband by revealing to him that she saw & was disgusted by his sexual relationship with another man. when he shoots himself, he becomes a 'terrible thing at the edge of the lake,' and i'm caught by his being, specifically, a 'thing'; for the rest of the play, he & his death come to metonymically stand for the essential failure of heterosexuality & sexual normativity that leads blanche to eventual ruin. he ceases to be a person and becomes a piece of metonymy; a signifier of the possibility of queerness, and the social paradigms that such a possibility threatens to rupture. this slots in well with my interest in spatial demarcation in fiction as a process of marking the boundaries of hegemony; all of streetcar takes place in one apartment, and who can and cannot live comfortably within the borders of the apartment aligns entirely with who can and cannot live comfortably within the borders of heteronormativity. compare apartment to lake; if the 'thing at the edge of the lake' is allan grey, and is therefore the possibility of queerness, then the lake itself is the repository, in a sense, for everything that sexual normativity & hegemony fundamentally cannot absorb.

& that's what anthony's lake is! ofc we're talking about transness in my story, but i'm playing around with the same essential idea of something that exists through its abjection & its absence, made sense of through its presumed impossibility. & it sets him at odds with his family, none of whom can see it. long before he can put words to what he wants, he has to live with the physical presence of the lake, & how that presence moulds his interfacing with the world even as he is the only person able to "see" it. as i said, i'm playing with the idea of spatial zones as standing in for discursive ones; the lake represents the marginalised, peripheralised forms of gender + sexuality by which sexual normativity + hegemony has to make sense of itself, and anthony lives with a heightened awareness of their existence before he has the language or the frameworks to properly recognise them. similarly, even people who cannot "see" the lake (for whom sexual normativity is naturalised such that the lake's "function" can become, in effect, background noise) can read this accidental departure from the norm into his affect.

& this idea of course brings us to the eyeball which provokes what is discursively figured as transition. i wrote this as an inversion of blanche's "I saw! You disgust me!" - when blanche "sees," queerness is no longer a distant & peripheral construction shoring up her understanding of heterosexuality without her ever having to confront it, but is instead in her immediate vicinity, and her response is to set off the chain of events that restore allan to "the edge of the lake" and to metonymic signifier. when anthony is "seen," by the lake itself, the world made possible by the lake is -- again -- no longer distant & peripheral, but immediate, and confrontational ("nothing but the water to distinguish it from me") (this is also why i referenced clare quilty, and vladimir nabokov/vivian darkbloom -- lolita doppelgangers strike a similar chord to this moment!). unlike blanche, his response to seeing and being seen is to finally admit to himself that the world represented by the "lake" is the world to which he wishes to belong. it's important that this is a conscious and deliberate choice -- throughout the story, it's always possible for anthony to remain, essentially, an unhappy girl, and to grow up into an unhappy woman. he tells us as much -- "But there were practical reasons for which I between the ages of eleven and twenty-one felt that I could not merely become that which I anticipated so fervently. If the lake were to take me—as I was certain it intended to do—I for so long committed resolutely to the idea that it had to be a happy happenstance, a fortuitous accident by which I could willingly and joyously forfeit all agency in the matter. I lasted so long in this state." anthony knows, at some level, what he is, but he spends a long time trying to make sense of it without having to act. when he is finally "seen," he acts, and this to me is a useful way of thinking about transness; not as deterministic inevitability, but as an expression of gendered agency.

i don't want to break it down sentence-by-sentence because i feel like that takes a lot of the fun out of reading it, but i hope this commentary was helpful -- i love this piece, i was dying to talk about it.

[priceforrottenjudgement]

I didnt want to be negative about natla, i didnt want to hate it, i was really really rooting for it at first, even when the original creators exited the project i was still being positive about it.

On its own this is a good show. Ive seen ppl criticise acting or cgi, but i thought both of those were good. The casting (with one exception) is amazing.

And thats what makes me so mad, the show really had all the requirements to be great, but in their idiotic attempt to appeal to "Fans of got" they committed the exact same mistake the got writers did, namely thinking they can or need to improve the original.

Natla is chock full of unnecessary little changes, but these changes add the fuck up. Taking away so many of kataras lines or actions and giving them to someone else? Removing her anger about sexism, but not the sexism itself? Aang can fly? Aang didnt run away from his Avatar duties, taking away a big part of his character development? Cutting out ALL the slapstick humour? The weird ass first 5 minutes? Fucking making us watch the airnation genocide? And thats just ep 1.

Also why why whyyyyyyyyyyyy the fuck did it need to be dark and gritty?? WHY. they said they wanted to appeal to the original audience and got Fans, like, i dont even have words for this, why??? Why even try to adapt atla when you plan on fundamentally changing the vibe and style of the original Show, why not just pick literally any other grimdark fantasy instead??

I feel so bad for this cast, they truly deserved better, but the producers of natla clearly only had profits on their minds and tried to 'widen' the intended audience by adding dark and edgy shit (as if the og atla Fans werent enough) while also removing amything deemed too controversial (the sexism discussions, character flaws, putting sokka in make up,...). Also "show dont tell" is dead i guess.

This sucks man, i wish the cast all the best and a successful career, but i skimmed through reviews of the show and needless to say i wont watch more than the first ep. This is genuinely disappointing.

Again, on its own this would be a great show, but as an adaptation of atla it falls completely flat bc it misunderstands whst made atla so good to begin with. Youre ofc free to enjoy it, but dont accuse ppl who didnt like it of being haters or purists or overly critical, bc i really really wanted to enjoy this, i wasnt gunning to hatewatch the show :/

Man, fuck grimdark adaptations, all my homies hate grimdark adaptations.

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Four

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass

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Previous chapters can be found here. 

Darkness crept into Dale and Nina tried not to notice the passage of time, even as she lit the lamp on her bedside table. A sense of unease swept through her, especially when she went out into the sitting area, where she found Sigrid at the battered kitchen table, knitting. 

Sigrid said nothing, but merely arched an eyebrow and that somehow made her feel even worse. Had she been a fool? Had Thorin sought to get even with her by using her, making her think he felt something, and…

No. She refused to even consider the very notion.

“It’s almost eight,” Sigrid remarked, lowering her knitting.

“I know.” Nina sank onto the arm of the sofa with a low sigh, a feeling of idiocy swirling through her. “Perhaps my faith was misplaced.”

“I had hoped not.”

“So did—” The sudden rap on the door cut her off and her spirits rose as she did. Nina smiled over her shoulder at Sigrid. “Perhaps it wasn’t after all.”

Sigrid smiled. “Only one way to find out.”

Nina drew a deep breath to quell the thousands of butterflies that had taken up residence in her belly as she reached for the door handle. But when she pulled it open and her gaze alit on Thorin on the far side of the threshold, those butterflies multiplied tenfold.

He offered up a sheepish smile. “I know I’m late, but I do have a good reason.”

“Come in, Thorin. And then you can offer up your reason.”

He bobbed his head. “Fair enough.”

She stepped back to allow him room to enter the flat and as he did, he said, “Miss Sigrid, how do you fare?”

“I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

Sigrid rose from the table, scooping her knitting into her arms. “I will allow the two of you—”

“No, there’s no need to leave, Miss Sigrid.” 

“That’s fine. I have a book waiting for me and you two don't need an audience.” She smiled. “It was nice seeing you again, Thorin.”

With that, she swept into her room, and Nina turned to Thorin. “I’m listening.”

“Oh, right. I was waylaid in Erebor.” He offered up a sheepish smile. “Balin was working on something for me and he was supposed to have finished it by now, but did not.”

“What was he working on? Something to do with Esgaroth?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes.” He gestured to the door. “Now, I believe I promised you supper, didn't I?”

“You did.” 

“Then come along and we will enjoy a meal not cooked out in the open by Dwalin.”

“We enjoyed several like that in Mirkwood,” she reminded him.

“And not surrounded by elves, either.” 

“Fair enough.”

Once they were outside, he reached for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and as they touched, Nina felt the snap of electricity between them and wondered if she would always feel it. Thorin looked over at her, his eyes soft, and without a word, lifted her hand to his lips. 

“You felt it, didn't you?”

“Felt what?” He winked and his fingers tightened about hers. “Where should we go?”

“Anywhere but the Black Swan.”

“Agreed.”

They made their way along Stone Street, and out to the main street, which was twice as wide, but far more quieter at night than it would be come morning. Some shops had closed for the night, but plenty more remained open, their brightly colored awnings still unrolled over the doorways and soft warm light within welcoming any and all shoppers. 

“This city has come a long way,” he said, gesturing to the buildings to his right. “Half of these were in ruins a year ago. Now look at them.”

“The first few weeks here were terrible,” she told him as they strolled toward the low wall at the far end of the street, overlooking the plains, and in the distance, Erebor. “Thranduíl had been somewhat generous, bringing much needed food and clothing, but there were still so many people and so few resources. Bard proved his gift for leadership during that time. And it’s amazing what people can accomplish when they work together.”

She looked over to the west, where some buildings had been restored, but others were still in various stages of ruin. “An enormous troll lumbered through here, just swinging this equally enormous club this way and that. I’d never seen anything like it. He was horrifying, and so ugly, you couldn't help but stop and stare at him for a moment.” 

“I did not see the one who tore through here, but I've battled trolls before,” he replied, pausing to sink against the rough stone wall. “Before we reached Rivendell the first time. We’d stopped for the night and mountain trolls made off with several of our ponies. Fíli and Kíli took Bilbo in an attempt to get them back and we all almost ended up on the troll menu.”

“Ew. They are foul creatures.”

“That they are.” 

In the distance, pale gold light spilled through elegant bay windows and she nodded toward it. “The Provincial House. That’s what Sigrid gave up to share a tiny little flat with me.”

“I’ve spent more than my share of time there since Smaug.” His thumb brushed along hers. “The bowman has done well for your people.”

“He has,” she nodded, then gazed up at him. Moonlight danced lightly along his hair, glinted off the ornaments woven into the black strands, and gleamed off the silver streaking it. Without thinking, she reached up to brush her fingers through it. 

She let her fingertips trail along the braid woven at his left temple. At its end, a silver cube had been woven it. It lay heavy in her palm as she said, “What is this?”

“This?” He caught the braid from her, catching the small cube between his thumb and forefinger. “It was a gift, from my father.”

“An odd gift, that.”

“To Men, perhaps.” He smiled, letting the braid go slack. “But to dwarves? It is not odd at all. To dwarves, hair is sacred. That’s why you will not see a clean-shaven dwarf, nor one with what you would call a sensible haircut. We take great pride in our hair, and we protect it as if it were a living being.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “You’ve seen even the women have beards, and most of them are decorated and almost all of the decorations have meaning behind them. No one touches a dwarf’s hair unless he or she has proven themselves utterly trustworthy to the dwarf in question and has been given their permission to touch it.”

“I didn't know that. I just thought you felt it made you look more threatening.”

He grinned then. “Am I so threatening to you?”

“Well, not now. But when you first came through Esgaroth? It was easy to see you making someone uneasy. But at the same time, it was also easy to see why your men followed you all the way from the Shire. I’ve the feeling they would willingly die for you, if necessary.”

A hint of color rose along his cheekbones, only just barely visible in the moonlight. “I owe my life to them, all of them. But especially the hobbit.”

“Bilbo, right?”

He nodded. “Bilbo Baggins of Bag End in the Shire. At first, he had no desire to join us, no desire to leave his home and all of its comforts. And to be honest, I don't know why he changed his mind, other than he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.”

“You never asked him?”

That color along his cheekbones deepened. “I—uh—never got the chance. We had a bit of a falling out and it wasn't until I thought I was dying that we—that I apologized for my role.”

A hint of sadness crept into his voice. She moved to ease herself between his thighs and let her hands come to rest upon his powerful shoulders. “If you don’t wish to speak of it, I understand.”

He gazed up at her, his eyes soft and pale. “The memories are unpleasant. I put many lives at risk. I cost so many innocent people so much. You don't need me to tell you this, you know it firsthand.”

“I do, but… just… now you’re atoning for it. Look at this place,” she swept one hand out behind her, at the buildings that had risen from the ash, “and see for yourself. It was a ruin and now, it’s not entirely reborn, but it’s getting there. You’ve kept your word, Thorin.”

He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, his thumbs grazing along them as he murmured, “I love you.”

She smiled, then leaned in and caught his lips in a teasing kiss. His hands tightened on her hips, pulled her snugly into the vee of his spread legs, and when she drew back, she murmured, “I love you, too.”

“We should go find someplace to eat.” He rose without releasing her. “Before the hour grows too late and every place is closed.”

****

After a quiet supper in a cozy little cafe on the eastern side of Dale, they strolled back along the promenade, toward Stone Street. Her fingers laced with Thorin’s, her head resting against his shoulder. Nina was certain she’d never known the happiness, the contentment, like those swirling through her then. Everything was right in her world, more right than she could have ever imagined. 

“What’s on your mind?” Thorin asked, his voice low and gentle.

“Not much, really.” She lifted her head to peer up at him. “I’m happy. I mean, I’m still sore, but I’m happy.”

He released her hand, easing that arm about her shoulders. “Happy, eh?”

“Very happy. Why? Shouldn’t I be?”

“I didn't say that.” He pressed her against his side. “It’s a nice sight to see, you happy.”

“What about you? What’s on your mind?”

Thorin stopped then, stepping before her. “I am also happy.”

“Good. I’ve the feeling it’s been a long time since you were happy, Thorin.” She reached up to curve her hand against his bristled cheek. “And you should be happy.”

He blocked out the moon as he leaned in and their lips met softly. Nina melted against him, easing one arm about his neck and the other about his waist. He bent her back, his lips parting, his tongue meeting hers and her heart sped up at the slow teasing. 

Thorin broke the kiss slowly, pulling away to sweep his lips along her jaw, toward her ear, where he whispered, “I should see you home, mesmel.”

“I hate to see this evening end,” she confessed, tucking her head against his chest.

He wrapped her in his embrace, pressed a kiss into the top of her head, and murmured, “There will be more like this.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“There will. I promise you this.”

With that, she slowly pulled out of his arms, but caught his hand once more and in comfortable silence, they strolled back toward Stone Street. 

At her door, she smiled. “I had a lovely time this evening, Thorin.”

“As did I.” 

“Would you like to come inside?”

His eyes glinted and his grin grew feral to send heat spiking through her, but then he slowly shook his head. “As much as I would love to, I should be going. But, if you are free tomorrow afternoon, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

She nodded. “I’m free. I have to work tomorrow night, though.”

“I will have you back in time. I’ll be by around noon.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He leaned in, brushed her lips with his once more, and then stepped back. She opened the front door and reluctantly stepped inside and as she closed it, she heard a soft, faint whistle as Thorin strolled back down Stone Street. 

“You look happy.”

Nina turned to see Sigrid at the table, this time a book open before her, and she smiled. “That is because I am.”

“Because of your dwarf?”

“Because of my dwarf.”

Sigrid chuckled. “I must admit, you could do far worse than him. Perhaps he is not so terrible after all. Should I give him another chance?”

“I wish you would.” Nina crossed to the table to draw out a chair and sank into it. “You’re my dearest friend, Sigrid. I would like it if you and he could at least be civil to one another.”

A hint of color appeared along Sigrid’s high cheekbones. “Da did say he was keeping his promise, the one he’d made that night he and his company broke into the armory.”

“He is. At least, as far as I know, he is.”

“And we are out from under the Master’s incompetence as well. Did you know his lackey made a pass at me once.”

“What?” Nina couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice. “When?”

“I had gone to speak with the Master about something, something my father asked me to take care of for him whilst he was out on the water. And while I was there, in that gaudy house, Alfrid happened upon me and thought he might take a liberty or two.”

Nina couldn't help the shudder that rippled through her. Alfrid Lickspittle was every bit as sleazy as his name suggested and she did not envy Sigrid’s having to deal with him. “Tell me you punched him straight in the nose. Or somewhere it would hurt even more.”

“I wish. No, actually, I burst out laughing at him, which was terribly rude of me, I suppose, but somehow, I’m not at all sorry for it.”

“He was a horrid little man. If he touched me, I think I’d have to lop that body part clean off.”

Sigrid burst out laughing. “Nina, that’s terrible!”

“So was he.”

“I’ll not argue that with you at all.” Sigrid sat back in her chair. “Why do I think His Majesty does not make you wish to lop off any body parts?”

Nina could hold back her smile, heat spilling through her at the memory of her and Thorin in the infirmary the previous night. “No, he certainly doesn’t. Not one bit.”

“Well, I am happy for you. But know this, if he ever hurts you…”

Nina reached across the table to give Sigrid’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” 

The trek back to Erebor was uneventful for a change. Still, Thorin did not leisurely stroll home, despite his good mood. It was a clear, cool night, and the walk was pleasant, but even so, he felt no little relief when he crossed over the obsidian bridge spanning the narrow river before Erebor’s main gate. Perhaps one day he’d once again be able to travel without always looking over his shoulder, without wondering who out there might be taking aim at him, but it would not be today. 

A sigh bubbled to his lips. In so many ways, being just Thorin Oakenshield was far easier than being king. Oakenshield could come and go as he pleased, without worrying about any bounty on his head. 

He frowned. No, that wasn't entirely true, as Azog had put that bounty in place long before Thorin ever crossed Erebor’s threshold. He just hadn’t known about it until his not-so-chance meeting with Gandalf at the Prancing Pony in Bree that led to his decision to retake Erebor. 

So much had happened since that rainy night. So much, indeed.

“Ah, there you are.” Balin strode toward him. 

“You’re waiting up for me?”

Balin chuckled. “Yes, but not for the reason you might think.”

“A relief, that.” Thorin met him about three-quarters of the way across the Great Hall. “For what reason, then?”

“I’ve finished.”

Thorin halted his stride. “Already? You thought it would take several more days.”

“Well, I did at first, but then I figured out what was giving me such trouble and then, I finished it.” Balin offered up a proud grin. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would, yes.”

“Then come along. Your lady will be here come tomorrow, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then come with me and I hope you approve.”

Thorin fell into step alongside Balin to trek down to the lower level, where Balin’s workshop was located. “Why do I think that won’t be a problem?”

“Well, it probably won’t be, but still…”

“Balin, you know I trust you.”

“I realize that, but this is an important piece.” Balin glanced over at him as they descended the main staircase. “It is not every day the king is betrothed, you know.”

Thorin couldn't hold back his smile. “I do like how that sounds.”

Balin let out a soft chuckle. “I have to admit, they are not words I thought I’d ever utter, but here we are.”

“Here we are.” As they reached the landing, overlooking the treasure horde, he paused, hands on the marble rail. “Tell me, do you think anyone will have concerns where Miss Carren is concerned?”

“They might,” Balin admitted with a slow bob of his head, “for she is unknown to us. But, your people trust your judgement, so in time, if she’s won your heart, I’ve no doubt she will win the hearts of the others as well.”

Thorin turned back to the treasure, glinting beneath the flickering candles in their sconces high up on the stone walls. “Balin, there is something I think you should know. But,” he looked over at the dwarf who was his conscience personified, “what I am about to tell you must never leave this room and it must remain between you and I.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is. And that is why you must give me your word.”

“Of course. You needn’t even ask, really. I keep what we discuss between us as a rule, unless you say otherwise. So, what is it?”

“It’s about Nina—er, Miss Carren—and how she and I came to be together.”

“Well, I know that already. Dís told me. She offered herself in service as a bodyguard of sorts.”

“Well, yes, she did,” Thorin hedged, linking his fingers. “But, that’s not quite the whole story.”

“Thorin?”

“You know of the bounty, do you not? The one Azog set upon my head.”

“Yes, of course. The Goblin King was quite sure he was going to collect on it.”

Thorin chuckled, remembering their time in Goblin-town. “Aye, quite sure, indeed. If only Gandalf had been in agreement with him.”

Balin joined him in his laughter for a moment, but then, his expression grew serious. “What about that bounty?”

Thorin hesitated, then drew in a deep breath and went into the story of how Nina came to be in his company outside of Rivendell. He waited for Balin’s shocked expression and was not disappointed as the older dwarf stared up at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Are you so certain marrying her would be wise, Thorin?”

Thorin scowled. “I told you, she has no intention of claiming that bounty any longer and of everyone, I’ve come to know her best. I’ve been alone with her, I’ve slept alongside her, and—”

“Here, you mean. On dwarven territory, within your kingdom.”

“No,” Thorin shook his head, “not only here. The first time we were together, we were in Mirkwood. And I was as vulnerable there as I would be anywhere. And yet, here I am, alive and well and in one piece.”

“Thorin, you cannot let this be known,” Balin told him, his voice low, “for should anyone else learn of this… the consequences could be dire.”

“And that is why this will remain between you and I,” Thorin replied evenly.

“Well, yes, of course, but does anyone else know?”

“Only you and Dwalin know. No one else does, not even Dís. And I fully intend to keep it that way.”

“I should hope so,” Balin told him with a stern look. “It would be disastrous, should this get out.”

“I know. In time, perhaps it won’t be, but for now—”

“It will be kept under wraps.”

“Good. And do not let it color your perceptions of Miss Carren. I assure you, she is not going to slice my head from my body any time soon.”

Balin shot him a long look, then resumed down the second staircase. “I certainly hope not.”

“Trust me.”

“I do. But I know you. I do not know her.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Give it time, Balin. It won’t take long for her to win you over as well.”