i had the idea to make a haunted hotel OC that is the kid abbadon is possessing’s birth mother just to find out like 10 people already had that idea. im gonna do it anyway
omg how can you hate a character’s guts so much? So damn much that you literally would want to go through the tv screen and strangle them and absolutely beat the crap out of them but still somehow end up crazy about them in the worse, most addictive way possible?
finished rewatching death note (sobs) and even though the Near arc isn't my favourite, the ending is so well written and emotional and intelligent that I'm struggling to decide whether I go with RieCanon current ending (and how it would work) OR if I slot Rie into Death Note canon completely/mostly, and just have the single end thing that hints "all is not as it seems"...
Perhaps, somehow, this is your fault. You’d left them to fend for themselves with only a Hobbit for sense. Doubling back to Mirkwood was clearly not the wisest idea but there was something lingering and odd about the presence of those Spiders and you wanted to get to the bottom of it. Of course, you didn’t. You recognize a losing battle when you see one, though you were able to glean that those Spiders were there for a more nefarious purpose than decaying Elf woodland.
Now you’ve returned only to find Kíli greyer than the skies above Lake-town.
Mahal have mercy, you’re never letting them out of your sight again.
Kíli is sick – poisoned – and getting worse by the second. You know he won’t last if he isn’t treated immediately. You aren’t sure who you’re more angry with; Kíli, for attempting to hide the severity of his injury for so long, or Fíli for aiding him. Idiots.
Lovely idiots. Kind, courageous, adorable, lovely idiots, to be sure, however, right now, you want to murder them both – once Kíli is strong enough again to handle a good bludgeoning from the business end of your iron-spiked club.
Also, did you mention the questionable pillow of walnuts? Because there is a questionable pillow of walnuts beneath Kíli’s head where he’s writhing on the bargeman’s table. Everything else, swept away; that – could be argued – rather obvious sack of shelled walnuts? Somehow escaped Fíli, Bofur and Óin’s frenzied clearing as well as a scuffle with intruding Orcs.
Had you not been so busy caving in ugly Orc mugs, you might have had the thought to replace the walnuts with something softer and more practical. Now, unfortunately, the bargeman’s bedding is trapped under three dead Orc carcasses and you aren’t keen on dragging those smelly hunks of meat-rot off alone while everyone else is gathered with the She-Elf to witness Kíli deteriorate.
But, damn, those walnuts are pissing you off.
Fíli watches Kíli as Kíli watches you as the She-Elf does whatever tricky healing magic Elves are masters of. Meanwhile, you glare so hard at the walnuts your right eye twitches from exertion.
“—You cannot be her.” Kíli wheezes, delirious, glazed eyes skirting over the breadth of your face. “She is far away. She … she is far, far away from me.” You have half a mind to respond but that bloody sack— “She walks in starlight in another world. It was just a dream.” He reaches for you, you tenderly swat his hand away.
You’re furious, vision blurring though you can’t figure out why. Suddenly, your cheeks feel moist and there’s a tightness in your throat and behind your eyes and is no one at all concerned about the walnuts!?
“Do you think she could’ve loved me?”
Oh, well, that’s it.
“You’re a bloody fool, Kíli Bow-wielder,” You press through gritted teeth, at last taking the hand Kíli continues to hold out to you. With his hand cradled against your cheek, he slips from consciousness, his face at peace. “I’m going to disembowel you when you wake for this, mark my word.”
Fíli coughs to the side and pointedly doesn’t look at you as you utter your vow. He wipes the sweat from Kíli’s brow with his sleeve and allows you to murmur your threats as you please while the She-Elf hums her powerful words. This close, you can feel the spell thrum against you like a soft tide against the shore. It’s pleasant and warm and somewhat tingly.
The She-Elf’s voice tapers off and she is done, Kíli breathing evenly on the table.
You’re relieved and angry and hurt and happy all at once, a remarkable combination you weren’t aware you were capable of feeling all at once. You suppose that, when it comes to Kíli, you should’ve expected to feel more than you ever have before.
The moment doesn’t last. The world trembles beneath your feet and you hear in the distance the sound of exploding rock and a roar that rattles your bones.
“We must leave,” The She-Elf says and you’ve never agreed with anything more.
Later, if you happen to bat a hundred violent walnuts at a monstrous Dragon, well, blame the idiot who almost died on them.
