#sorry this response is disorganized

[lavendeerlesbian]

We get the bare minimum of people acknowledging we exist that's not pandering. Literally all most of us want is access to medical care and the right to live our lives without violent threats or harassment. Of course there are shitty trans people, there are shitty people in every group whether they're marginalized or not. No one should be harassed for just trying to live their lives, but every fucking day I have to have someone remind me that they think I should commit suicide and they think it's fucking hilarious. Some celebrities saying "trans rights" isn't helping my safety, medical care, or material existence.

"Bare minimum of people acknowleding we exist" and yet every major company acknowledges and accepts trans people (and if you disagree you can be fired), every job application now asks for your gender identity and acknowledges nonbinary identities, women's DV shelters are forced to accept transwomen or else risk facing defunding and being shut down despite the fact that most women there are traumatized and need space away from male people, males are legally allowed to go into women's restrooms and sports and prisons where they assault and rape female inmates and staff, and y'all are also allowed to undergo "gender affirming care" despite the fact that it violates the hippocratic oath and is not safe. Hell, many insurances will even cover the cost of transition so either you're lying or you're misinformed. Literal children having some restrictions being placed on transition doesn't count, as children aren't allowed to make many other life altering decisions and you don't complain about those (no smoking, no drinking, no tattoos, etc.). And I haven't even gotten into how the trans movement is inherently homophobic as y'all are trying to redefine homosexuality as "same gender attraction" and call any actual homosexual person a "transphobic bigot and genital fetishist" in much the same fashion as homophobic conversion therapists. Literally the guy who came up with the concept of gender identity, John Money, was a pedophile who did sexual experiments on twin boys which eventually caused both of them to commit suicide. Look it up. Also look up Alan Turing and the Aversion Project.

It's not just "some assholes", your entire movement is built on trampling on the rights of women and LGB people.

I'm sure you genuinely see yourself as a victim because you have been told BY OTHER TRANS PEOPLE that trans people will commit suicide if they don't get affirming care instead of just better mental health resources. You know what LGB activists told gay children? "It gets better", not "Affirm gay kids or they'll kill themselves". Like. Doesn't that rub you the wrong way at all? Why are your activists encouraging children to kill themselves?

Acknowledging reality is not oppression, either. Even radfems acknowledge that you exist and that you identify as trans, but the reality is men cannot become women and vice versa. Also, radical feminism the ideology has nothing to do with suicide baiting people, so if radfems have actually told you to kill yourself on the basis of you being trans (doubt) then I want to see receipts.

[scandalouslamb]

im going to rebel and say ⭐️ because i absolutely DO want to hear u go one about dogfighting or whatever thing u come up with thanks !

ask game

sorry, I took a while. I had to like... keep my thoughts coherent. Hopefully I suceeded.

I actually won't be focusing on dogfighting (everyone cheered). I will still talk about Cave Canem Edit, because no one wants to talk about that fic. (I get it though... it made me sad. which is why no dogfighting focus.) I touch on this stuff in my author's note (my ANs are really like... my director's commentary half the time), but I am elaborating on my thoughts a lot more (hopefully).

I feel like most of my fics have me very focused on thinking in a character's head, but this one was truly meant to be a Festus Creed character study through dogfighting (as it says in the summary).

Personally, after my research, not a big fan of dogfights (wow what a controversial and brave stance), but I do think that they kind of instill a kind of code of honor to how Festus navigates competition (see this as expanding into having to run/make decisions for the Creed businesses). He would appreciate and admire good competition. For him, there maybe unspoken rules of engagement (like those deserving of admiration are not destroyed in the aftermath of a loss).

Festus' odd view of honorable competition also kind of works well with my interpretation of Persephone who (as I am sure you will remember) in Pelops' Shoulder fully believes that friendly competition for Festus' affection is totally plausible between herself and Artemisia, even going so far as to be actively trying to befriend Artemisia and encouraging her to not give up her pursuit as the other girl begins pulling away.

Also in my mind, while his perspective on Coral is fairly dehumanizing in this fic (comparing her to a fighting dog), there is a part of him that has to identify strongly with her to compare her to one of his fighting dogs. I think it makes sense that he would sour a bit to the idea of the Games because of her death. It's also potentially why he'd lowkey resent the dramatics of the future Games.

While his view of Felix is more positive than Coral (he does not not directly (through metaphor. I made him only use simile with Felix) compare him to an animal), I do think that in this fic, Festus sees Felix as someone he needs to guide and take care of (remember that they became friends/bonded closer in University in my headcanoning of this universe). There is kind of a dehumanizing in that... Seeing him as needing steering. <- obviously there are benign mentor figures who guide people but paired with his annoyance with Felix throughout, my intention was kind of like an impression that Felix's hopelessness in Festus' eyes means that Felix kind of needs him which while a pretty okay sentiment, can feel a little insulting and diminishes Felix's agency (especially paired with lost duckling comparison in the fic).

I think Festus is generally has good intentions and means well with most of his interactions, but in this fic, I was exploring how maybe it can also tip to the negative. Good intentions does not actually mean knowing what's best for someone. Taking Felix to the dogfight is an example of that (Pippa was right).

Another thing that I mention in the author's note is that this fic tries to explore this section in Tu Fui, Ego Eris more:

Coriolanus can feel the sharp tug on the back of his head from when Festus Creed had grabbed a fistful of his hair, trying to bring Coriolanus closer to strangle or strike him. [...] Coriolanus never quite figured whether he'd heard about Felix from Vipsania or Lysistrata.

I'm still not decided if in my more canon fics if I want Felix/Festus to be a thing, so you can kind of read it either way. Anyway, if they aren't a thing, I was like what could elicit such a violent response. Then I was like well, Festus perhaps started feeling a sense of responsibility to Felix (which don't we all to our friends? also I do think Festus felt that way towards Coriolanus too in a way). Additonally, Festus' idea of honorable competition comes back into play here, notice his anger at the foul play for his first/favorite dog, Laelaps, who is notably poisoned. You know that I don't poison Felix in my fics, but it kind of highlights the connection that I'm trying to form about why Festus might disapprove of Coriolanus' future actions.

This got really long, but I also have a cut section of this fic somewhere. If people are interested, maybe I'll post it.

[beastren]

I love your music taste so much it’s unreal!!!!!!!; have you listened to Neko Case? I feel like you might like a lot of her work! Some stand outs (to me lol) are Star Witness, Nothing to remember and Magpie to the morning :) (I hope this alright to send and not weird!!!)

HELLO!!!! THIS ISN'T WEIRD AT ALL THIS IS EASILY BY FAR ONE OF THE NICEST MESSAGES I HAVE EVER RECEIVED.... TYSM!!!! sorry i got super sleepy soon after you sent this 😔💔 i have heard just a couple neko case songs before and liked them okay but none of those very few had stuck yet but i had really been meaning to check out more so THANK YOU....‼‼

I REALLY really like the lyrics to star witness it has a super comforting sound somehow too.... the repetitiveness (need a better word 😔💔) of the chorus is very engaging and kind of gets me into a very nice lull where i am just chilling and jamming.... definitely an earworm as well.... it feels like a perfect song to go into the start of summer with!!

OOOOOH i really like the sounds in the intro and the instrumental of nothing to remember.... i guess this makes sense bc of when it was released but there's something very nostalgic abt this one.... THESE LYRICS ARE SO GOOD AS WELL.... i like this part a lot.... will have to ponder this long and hard....

WOOOOAAAAH MAGPIE TO THE MORNING.... this one may be my favorite out of the three.... i LOVE the sound of it idk how to describe what it reminds me of or feels like but i am really enjoying it.... almost placid feeling.... AND THE LYRICS ARE CRAZY GOOD.... OOH the last line where the other voices come in for like a split second is SO GOOD.... but these lyrics are absolutely character playlist material for me i will be eating this song up

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[steampunk-raven]

playing the fun game of “is this alter an age regressor who just acts super differently when not regressed or are there two of this guy but one is a little over a decade older than the other?”

[easy-there-leftovers]

Thinking about Spencer having a thing for your hands.

"I don't understa––" His breath is stolen from him in an instant. Whatever left, leaves along his voice at your behest.

Your hands, those devastating beautiful hands of yours that have been plaguing his conscious and unconscious mind, glided across the expanse of his bare chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Moving methodically, purposefully. As if mapping out each and every spot that would elicit a new sound from him.

And you are nothing if not thorough.

A gasp, a hiss, a mewl of your name— all new noises that are still so foreign to even him that he feels his ears burn.

"You're so beautiful..." He turns his face to the side as the blood rushes to his cheeks-- hearing you whisper absentmindedly, still very much focused on your task. Watching how his face contorts in pleasure despite his usually reserved nature.

He continues to writhe as he notices you place all your weight on his lap. He lets out a moan as you settle onto him, and it takes everything in him to not move up against you. To feel you just where he wanted you.

He feels your fingers move down his body slowly. Very much like how they were when you had been skimming down an article for the investigation. Gliding so agonizingly slow. Splaying him open and keeping him pliable underneath your touch. And he whines is frustration.

He's barely in control anymore. Head,—swimming as he can do nothing but take what you're giving him. He can't even move his hands to touch you back, to explore you like you have him, because he's pretty sure they're numb from how hard he's been gripping the sheets beneath him.

He wants to ask, to beg, to call out for you to just touch him there, but whatever remainder of his pride had kept him from doing so.

You seem to sense his inner conflict however, seeing right through him like you always do, smiling that cheshire cat grin of yours as you ask, "Would you like some help there, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer snaps out of his reverie to see your face hovering so close to his and he shrieks. He's quick to rid himself of whatever remnants of his depravity still clouded his mind, guilty for a crime he has not and will, probably, not do.

He shakes his head as he scrambles to form a response.

"I'm sorry, I was uh––um, you were saying?"

You gesture with your head to the papers on his desk. Your devastatingly beautiful fingers coming to rest on the uncharacteristically disorganized pile. As you tap on the files, he sees a sparkle in your eye. As if you saw something interesting, either in the files or in him, as you ask again,

"Would you like some help there, Dr. Reid?"

He feels his face flush.

[cuubism]

At first Hob isn't even sure the shop is open. The tiny door inset above a few steps, the utter lack of welcoming signage, the windows packed with unlabelled stacks of books--it doesn't exactly scream come in and buy something. As Hob steps up to the door, he really expects it to be locked, or for a sign to fall from the ceiling reading, abandon all hope here, mortal.

But the door to the bookshop--the name of which he's yet to determine, again with the utter lack of signage thing--just swings open at his touch, and he steps into a narrow hallway made entirely of--of course!--books.

Dust rises from the rug as he carefully makes his way deeper into the meandering corridors. The lightbulbs overhead are dim and in desperate need of replacement. The stacks are teetering and untouched. If he learned the place had been sitting here on this winding side street, exactly the same, for the past seven hundred years, he wouldn't be at all surprised.

And now Hob's marring its mysterious mausoleum aura by opening a jaunty modern coffee shop across the street.

Whoops.

Hence why he's bringing a peace offering before he accidentally starts a war over noise or crowds or god knows what else. Most places would probably be happy about increased foot traffic, but that's not the sense he's getting here.

This is all, of course, assuming he does find an owner, and not just a skeleton manning a till somewhere in this place long gone dark.

Hob doesn't find any customers. He does find several interesting-looking side hallways labelled things like, ~ the occult ~ , Oneiromancy, and "falconry -- advanced" and has to drag himself back into focus because the only thing worse than starting a turf war with a mysterious bookstore owner on his cafe's opening day is accidentally spilling the coffee he's brought--as a peace offering!--all over some ancient magical text.

"Hello?" he calls, finally giving up on the creeping about. "Anyone there?"

No answer. All Hob finds is a rickety set of stairs leading up the next level. So he ascends.

At the top is an even more cluttered room of books. This time in disorganized, unlabelled stacks on every surface. Waiting to be shelved, maybe? And in the center of it all, sitting cross-legged on the floor with several of these books spread out in a confusing array before him, is who Hob can only presume to be the owner.

An owner who is not dead, nor ancient and decrepit as Hob had kind of been picturing. Definitely not decrepit at all. Oohhhh dear.

The lithe, dark-haired, fey thing that is the owner tapes a note inside another book and says, in a distracted tone, "Can I help you?"

"Uh," says Hob, because he came here on a mission but he's gotten really turned around, "do you drink coffee?"

This gets him a raised eyebrow, but the shop owner does turn to look at him, staring up from his position on the floor. Christ he's pretty, spectacles and all. If there is a battle over street noise levels, Hob's going to lose by dint of caving automatically to those eyes. Pathetic.

The bookstore owner looks at the coffee in Hob's hand, then back at Hob's face. "Why?"

Hob thrusts the cup in his direction. "Here."

The owner looks alarmed now, but takes the cup, gingerly, peering at it as if he thinks Hob might have given him pureed nightshade instead. "Why?" he repeats, and then, because apparently his level of self-preservation doesn't extend to things like not drinking random shit thrust at him by strangers, takes a sip, and hums in appreciation.

"I-- fuck, sorry--" Hob sits down on the floor, which only makes him look more like a maniac to be honest-- "I just-- I just opened across the street? The cafe? So I just wanted to say hi and-- holy shit, is your name actually Dream? Were you a stripper in another life or something?"

This because he's finally spotted a tiny nametag pin on the bookstore owner's cardigan-- a cat curled around a book where the cover reads, I am Dream.

"Yes," says Dream, and Hob has no idea if that's in response to the first question, the second, or both. Both is terrifying to think about. As is the fact that Hob even asked that. "The cafe, you said?"

"Mmhmm," Hob agrees, cheeks burning. Oh, he's making a right mess of this, all right.

"Hmm," says Dream, peering at him over the coffee cup. This indicates nothing to Hob about how he feels about the cafe situation.

"I just worried that more noise and stuff might bother you," Hob rushes to explain. "You seem. To. You know. Like your quiet. Is all."

"It is my understanding that cafes and bookstores frequently have symbiotic relationships," says Dream evenly, though he's still watching Hob with unnerving intensity.

Well. That was easy. Maybe Hob was just worrying over nothing. Wanting to be liked when it wouldn't have been an issue.

"Alright," he says, letting out a breath. "Well. Good!"

"Good," echoes Dream, with a tiny, wry smile.

"What is this place anyway? I've seen no signage whatsoever."

"It's called The Library," Dream says.

Hob waits for him to explain. He doesn't. "Um, but... isn't it a shop?"

Dream raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "And?"

"So..." Hob says, "it's not a library."

"Purchasing something is but extended borrowing from the universe," says Dream, like that makes any sense at all.

But Hob decides there's other things he'd rather do with a pretty goth bookstore/library/whatever owner than argue semantics. "What do you carry, then?"

Now Dream preens like a cat. "The Library contains every book in print."

Now it's Hob's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That seems... unlikely? Impossible?"

Dream's self-satisfied little smile doesn't fade. "You are welcome to browse the stacks and let me know if there is anything you cannot find."

And, well, it's true that Hob didn't really get a sense of just how far back this place goes. It looks small from the street, but he's already wandered pretty far in just to find Dream, and has yet to reach a back wall.

"I will definitely have to come back," he agrees. And get lost. Definitely get lost. He's not even sure he can find his way out. He'll probably get swallowed up in Oneiromancy.

"In return I will be sure to visit your cafe," says Dream. He says it so strangely, like crossing into a foreign land. I will be sure to visit your court. "Are you open late?"

"On Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, yup," says Hob.

"Excellent." Dream inclines his head imperiously to Hob. "Thank you. For the coffee."

Hob figures he should let him get back to his labeling. He has plenty of his own work, too.

"Yeah, sure, any time. Good to meet you, Dream."

And then he scurries away before he can make it any weirder, makes his meandering way out of "The Library," and doesn't get lost in Oneiromancy.

This time.

--

The following night, Hob looks up from the till to find Dream standing across the counter from him. He looks much the same as before, with the addition of a long dark coat over his clothes, and no reading glasses this time. He offers Hob a tiny smile. "Hob Gadling."

Gosh, he looks, if possible, even prettier in the warm lighting of the cafe than in the darkness of his shop. Though to be honest, Hob had half-convinced himself he'd hallucinated Dream's existence. He hasn't seen anyone go in or out of the shop since.

"Dream," he greets, with a smile. "Anything I can get for you?"

"It is I who have something for you." He hands Hob what must be a book, though it's wrapped in brown paper. "Consider it a return gift. Or perhaps. A welcome."

And before Hob can even ask if he wants coffee or something, if he wants to sit down, he slips back out through the crowd and onto the street like a vapor, and then he's gone.

Hob tears open the paper. And then stares at the book in astonishment.

It's the book. Everyone has one. The book once read but since forgotten in the shuffle of time; title, author, too vague in recollection to pin down. Unsearchable. Never found, for all that the heart of the story might have lodged its way in somewhere deep.

It's one of those books that he remembers in blistering detail now that it's in his hands, that he read in uni but couldn't have found for the life of him on his own, and Dream's just handed it to him over the counter of his cafe.

He runs his fingertip over the midnight blue cover, the embossed lettering. In Search of Nightingales. And it's only as he looks up again at the hidden shop across the street, that he realizes he never told Dream his name, either.

[fluffymarshmalllows]

You're late

College au! Ford x Reader

summary: Ford and Reader in college origin

“Stanford, once I get your sorry ass it will be over for you!” Y/N huffed earning a scolding shh from the librarian as they watched their best friend, reach the book she needs from a higher shelf of the library.

She asked for Ford’s assistance but got fooled by his antics. He looked back sporting an aloof smile that ticked them off even more. Though, internally Y/N was still giddy at the fact Ford smiles at them like that after all these years.

Walking back to your table with a book less than what you needed for the project you were building to present at the science convention Ford blackmailed you to apply in.

Getting settled and comfy in the cold room, you look back at the memory fondly as he praised you and smooth talked (well, more of stated the blunt facts) that you are a great inventor, just a bit disorganized, which you can’t help but agree to.

You knew that, everyone around you knew that. It’s just that you find being smart…boring. Without something to think for or someone to compete against, the spark for it fizzles out.

Until you met Ford in Calculus lecture. He was actively participating in class, is has a pretty face and a helpful hand, a true eye candy. What struck you odd was he never fully raised his hand. Just a pen or a pencil, which curiosity got the best of you.

Boldly walking towards his desk after the bell rang, you reached out your hand introducing yourself. “Hi! I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” only to get a blank stare and a nod. “Stanford Pines”

Well that plan failed. As a true scientist, that shouldn’t stop you. But he kept his stuff and was out the door almost immediately leaving you dumbfounded. At least Fiddleford was there to bring you back to your senses.

Walking out to the hallway you can’t help but rant about it. “The nerve he has! I was just trying to be polite” you huffed as you were shoving your things in the locker. Fiddleford hummed in response, but offered his sincere advice “Y’know Y/N, what if he’s just awkward, even I was the first days I came ‘ere”. You slammed the locker door, “look McGucket, I appreciate the honesty but shouldn’t you be on my side?” Which earned a fit of laughter from your friend.

“Whatever, I’ll visit you later” You and Fiddleford went your separate ways as the bell rang for the next class. You entered the room while the professor was taking attendance. You ducked your head trying to look invisible and by god, did you wish you were. “L/N, you’re late, I’ll have you written up the next time this happens.” muttering your apologies he asked you to take the available seat, lo and behold, the only seat available is next to the Stanford Pines himself.

You meekly took your place, almost dropping the whole contents of your bag haphazardly shoved in it, trying to observe your seatmate while also paying attention to the discussion in front.

You didn’t know it was possible but he became more handsome upon closer inspection, little stubble of a beard and his thick lens glasses that perfectly frames his eyes. “Ehem” Ford cleared his throat drawing you out of your ogling.

You whispered “sorry, you look good” which turned his face so red like a bright tomato. He stammers for a bit trying to say something while avoiding your gaze. You found joy in pestering him but it will get boring in the long run, especially when he doesn’t retort.

Deciding that taking notes and listening was mind frying enough, and annoying your seatmate can get you in more trouble than it’s worth. You decided to take a nap, hand supporting your head trying to look like you’re still paying attention to whatever was being discussed.

It took a while before Ford realized his seatmate decided to not make a peep. He thought you just got tired of asking him random questions or you got enough of his attitude and will hate him forever.

Looking over at you, he did not fail to admire how angelic you look, how your hair perfectly falls over you face, how your lips looks kissable? What are these thoughts, he shook his head trying to focus on the equation the professor made, scribbling his own calculations on his notebook.

Until the professor threw a chalk nub hitting you straight in the forehead jolting you awake. This made Ford snicker causing you to blush of embarrassment. “Mx. Y/N, can you please tell the class the answer to this problem?”

You stared at the board long and hard before shrugging your shoulders and saying “Unsolvable, unless you want a negative answer that is impossible, no—improbable for the set of limits you’ve given”. The professor was stunned, so was Ford because of your bold claim. Everyone’s attention now shifted to you which in turn made you rise up from your seat, picking up the chalk thrown at you and head straight to the board.

While you were solving and explaining where the equation went wrong, Ford was just in awe on how you did it. Your intelligence and confidence was something he wished he have. He glanced over his own mess of solutions and realized that you are right, so did the professor nodded in agreement.

After that class, Ford just had to know how you figured it out easily so he gathered up all his courage and tapped you gently holding a pen on his other hand. Deep breath, easy,

You looked at him, and he looks like he’s about to self combust any second, “Need anything?” You asked smiling to ease his anxiety. It took him a while to process before remembering what he needs to ask you, “how?”

“What do you mean how?” Trying to figure out what he was trying to ask you after ignoring you a class before. “How did you know it was wrong? You were asleep” he pointedly asked you.

Trying not to take any offense you teased, “You were watching me sleep?”. “No!,” he sputtered “I just noticed, anyway nevermind” before he can grab his stuff you took the pen he was holding and started scribbling on his notes. “You’ll figure that every time this and this will come out its most likely a negative by the end,” pointing out the values to prove your statement right. While he was staring at the paper you finally noticed his hands, his digits to be exact.

“You have six fingers.” You said matter of factly, which made you feel rather stupid as soon as the words left your mouth. Of course he knew that already! It is his hands after all.

Ford is growing more self conscious by the second. He quickly said his thanks but not before dropping a notepad he was trying to fit in his bag and rushing out of the room.

You noticed a notepad before you left, thinking it was one of your things you kept it in your bag along with the random gadget you made to pass the time.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Ford and Fiddleford was already conversing and trading intel regarding some classes they both are in. You did not intrude since you still felt guilty for what you said the last time you conversed with Ford. Heading back to your dorm, you decided mid way to just cut the last classes and make something until Fiddleford is back to his room, maybe this time you’ll finally meet his roommate.

Your phone has been buzzing for quite a while now but you can’t seem to find it under all the wirings and spare parts for your next project. You wanted to make some sort of handheld x-ray but you needed guidance from your friend since he is leagues better at engineering than you’ll ever be.

“Finally!” picking up your phone tucked with a notepad you don’t remember buying. Before you even had the chance to check the contents, your phone rang again. Dropping the notepad in your bag along with the mini machine you answered the phone.

“Y/N wher’re ya? I’ve been trying to geta hold of yous since I got back” voice of Fiddleford you realized. “Oh shoot, my bad I lost track of time, I gotta show you something” Grabbing your bag and keys before heading to the door still on call with your friend. “Aight, you betcha be here soon if you want to meet the new roommate I was telling you about” click.

So much for a productive call. Keeping your phone in your pocket, you dashed all the way to the other side of the campus.

Arriving in their dormitory building, you were a heaving mess. Beads of sweat on your forehead with some stray hairs sticking to your face. Not the prettiest sight but by fate, you found yourself face to face with Ford Pines once again.

Ford was heading to back to campus to look for his sketchpad. It was a generic notepad that could easily be mistaken for anyone’s notebook. All his practice drawings are there, documenting things he seen and capturing the beauty of it through his drawings. It meant a lot for him and he fears that if the wrong person got a hold of that notebook it will be over for him, socially. Well not really, he didn’t have much social standing to begin with. He told his roommate he’d be out for a bit of “fresh air” not expecting to see you and all your gorgeous beauty albeit sweaty and disheveled.

Ford still thinks you are the prettiest person in the entire universe. But not like he’d admit to it this early.

Pleasantries were exchanged between the two of you before parting ways. Finally making it to Fiddleford’s dorm room. You knocked on the door repeatedly and hearing a faint “come in” was your cue to let yourself in. It was a new sight. The room was organized for once, yet stacks of books littered the other side of the room. You assumed it was Fiddleford’s roommate you still have not met.

“McGucket, I need your help” you pulled out the machine you were trying to build, showing it to him. “Tell me about it, kiddo” still focused on his computer coding. “Hand held x-ray machine! This will be revolutionary,” demonstrating your machine “You can even adjust it to go atomic level, or you supposedly can, I just can’t make it right.” tinkering with it. That got Fiddleford’s attention, “well jeez, this is still a tad advanced for me but I’ll see what I can do”. You tossed him the machine and exclaiming your thanks which he almost dropped giving you both the fright of a lifetime. Changing the topic, it was time to debrief about your day.

You took a deep breathe before starting “Well, there’s this guy…” unpacking your bag to keep your hands busy and taking this chance to organize.

Ford is at a lost, he has no clue on where his notepad can be. Not in the classroom, not in the cafeteria, not even in the lost and found area! He’s starting to lose hope as he retraced his steps. The classrooms reminded him of your interactions, he laughed to himself remembering how confident you were on stating the obvious. Which made him feel a little better. Then it dawned on him.

The notepad, he must have dropped it while packing up his things quickly. But it wasn’t in the rooms so there is a big chance you might have took it.

He ran back to his dorm hoping his roommate knows where to find you. He feels utterly stupid for not asking Fiddleford’s contact number so that he won’t run all the way back to his dorm room like a mad man.

It’s late afternoon by now and curfew will be soon so he has to act fast if he wants to get the notepad before you have the chance to open it.

“Fiddleford,” Ford says in between his gasps of air, “do you know where,” taking in more gulps of oxygen. “Take your time buddy”. Ford coughed before trying again “do you know where to find Y/N?”.

This was met with a raised eyebrow and a teasing look. Ford never had a knack for picking up subtle social cues but this was something so obvious its like a glaring sign. Fiddleford just nudged his head to Ford’s desk and there laid copper wiring rose and his missing sketchpad.

He quickly opened it and saw pencil doodles in the corner of the page complimenting his drawing skills and art style. Ford tried hiding his blush but his roommate was well aware of the blooming romance this will be.

At the latest drawing he made just hours before,

Call me ####### -y/n

On the bottom of his sketches of Y/N all through out the day, including a sketch of her sleeping in class. Fiddling with his phone, unsure what to do. He typed in the number and pressed call.

“Hello?” You mumbled answering the ringing of your phone. “Y/N you’ll be late for class again if you don’t get here in 5” that got your attention. You quickly kept your books and shamefully tried to wipe a drool stain on your notes. And as much as you love hearing Ford’s voice through the phone, you can not afford another write up, especially when you’re aiming to score higher than your best friend.

word count: 2.2k

would yah look at that another fic! requests are open (i'd love to write your ideas)

'till next post <3

[dilvuc]

I recently found your work and I really enjoyed your snapped fic with Floyd! I was wondering if you would do something similar with Jade, with reader getting mad at him for his condescending and passive aggressive ness?

❝STORM❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst/fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: storm

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: jade leech x bison beastman!m!reader(+ azul/floyd/ruggie)

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: because of his passive aggressive behavior, you snapped at him

here he goes again. everytime, he's only doing this for his own enjoyment. why is jade targeting you? why must he want to see discomfort in you? what the hell is his problem? you thought you got used to it, but it was starting to pissed you off. you never thought it would make you even more pissed off after you lost the spelldrive tournament against diasomnia. you were angry by your loss and needed time to relax your anger until jade showed up.

“Oh? You lost the Spelldrive Tournament against Diasomnia?” jade smirked, holding a towel out to you, “It was satisfying to watch you lose against them. Besides, your dorm will never beat Diasomnia if you're never at their level…However—”

you harshly slapped the towel out of jade’s hand, catching him by surprise. you stood up abruptly off the bench and glared at the male, “Can't you get off my fucking back?! What is it that you want from me?! Are you trying to anger me because I'm a buffalo?!”

jade gasped, a little taken back by your outburst, “No—”

“Shut up! I'M SICK OF YOU! I'M SICK OF ALL OF THIS! WHAT'S THE DEAL OF TRYING TO BRING DISCOMFORT TO OTHERS AND CAUSE THEM PROBLEM?! ARE YOU FUCKING BRAINDEAD?!” you snapped, stepping close to jade, who stumbled back a little. “Fuck off and go fuck yourself! I don't have time to deal with you anymore! Stay away from me!”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“I see…apologies for wasting your time…” jade apologized. you give him a scoff and storm off, leaving the teal haired male alone. after you left, jade pulled an envelope from his back pocket and stared at it for a bit. he clenched on the envelope before ripping it to shreds.

“...idiot…you're an idiot…” jade muttered to himself as his vision went blurry. the male rubbed his eyes, realizing that it was tears pouring from his eyes. “A…ah…I shouldn't. I mustn't…he doesn't need you. He never needs you…”

as the teal haired male left, ruggie moved out of his hiding place and picked up the shredding envelope. it's a shame that he had to put in pieces. luckily, torned up papers aren't too small, so it's easy to put them together.

“Hey! Jade! Open up!” floyd hollered out as he bangs on the bedroom door, but there was no response. “Huh? Why isn't he saying anything…? Oi! We'll be serving mushroom stew if you like!”

“...”

“Eh…? He's not responding? But he loves mushrooms.” the disorganized twin tilted his head. azul arrived at the scene, “What's going on? There are customers waiting.”

“I think there's something wrong with Jade. He locked himself in the room.” floyd pointed before crossing his arms, “Something must've happened.”

“...Kicked the door open.” azul ordered.

“Fine. You better not charge me for this.” the taller male huffed before kicking the door down. “Oi! Jade! What's going on—”

floyd paused mid-sentence when he noticed his brother cowering under the blanket, “Hey…what's with you…?”

“A-ah…Nothing.” jade responded from under the quilt. floyd marched over and grabbed the blanket, but his brother clutched onto the blanket to stop him from pulling it off. “I’m fine…! J-just sick!”

“Liar.” floyd scoffed before pulling the whole blanket off of jade. azul and floyd gasped when they noticed tears pouring from jade's eyes. “Huh? Are you crying?”

“N…no! J…just…”

“Oi. Stop lying already.” floyd furrowing his eyebrows at his brother's attempt of lying.

“Jade, did something happen?” azul asked. jade sniffled, wiping away his tears with his sleeves, “...S…sorry, it was my fault that this happened.”

“What happened?” the housewaren questioned.

“Fuck me…I never thought I will be raising my voice at him…” you grumbled, ruffling your hair back. you have a bad temper and you can't help yourself. you can be sensitive most of the time and you hate yourself for that. sure, jade pissed you off, but you don't hate it. why did you have to snap at him like that? basically you were devastated by your loss against diasomnia and he somehow ruined your mood.

“That was fucked up, you know?” you jumped when you heard ruggie at your door frame. the hyena beastman placed the paper on your desk, “This belongs to you.”

“What's this?” you asked.

“Just read it and you'll see.”

“And that's what happened. I didn't think he would storm at me. Maybe I went too far…” jade sniffled, tossing another ball of tissues on the floor.

“I've heard that buffalo get aggressive. I wouldn't be surprised that [Y] be so sensitive.” azul mumbled.

“Maybe I should apologize to him…?” the organized twin questioned. floyd huffed, “He made you cry, so he should apologize. I want to break his horns or rip the piercing from his nose.”

“N-no need. I can take care of this…” jade rubbed his red eyes. “I started it…”

“Vice-housewaren. There's someone who wishes to see you.” A Octavinelle student said.

“...?”

jade arrived at the lounge to meet up with this person. to his surprise, the person turned out to be you. “[Y]...? Ah. Pardon me. You might come here to yell at me…”

“No. I'm not here to yell at you…” you calmly deny. the teal haired male looks at you confused, “Is there something you need? I…I promise that I won't provoke you again. I didn't mean to—”

“Jade, it's ok. It's my fault for snapping at you. I didn't mind you teasing me and all, but you provoked me at the wrong time.” you spoke, clutching the paper in your hand. jade frowned while fiddling with his fingers, “Sorry…”

azul and floyd peek in the lounge and listen in on your conversation. you sighed, “Stop apologizing. I'm the one who should apologize.”

you bow 180° and apologized sincerely, “I'm sorry for snapping at you. I let my anger out on you after my dorm lost to Diasomnia again.”

“I know you didn't mean those words. Anger just took the best of me. Sorry…” you finished apologizing before holding up the letter to jade. “Is this yours?”

“Ah?” jade looks at the taped letter in your hand before slowly turning red. “S-sorry! That's nothing!”

before he could snatch it, you swipe it back from his reach, “So, you were planning to confess to me, huh?”

“I…! I-I wasn't going to! It's embarrassing…!” jade blushed with his hands over his face. you reread the love letter before turning your attention back on the flustered jade, “You've been teasing me because you have feelings for me, huh? You just haven't had the courage to tell me how you really feel.”

“...You already read it. Please forget it. It probably not worth it—”

“I love you, too, mushroom lover.” you confessed. “Even if you always pissed me off, I always enjoy your company. You still pissed me off either way.”

jade gawked at your harsh confession, but was glad that you accepted his feelings, “...O…oh, it was still silly of me to make a love letter to a hairy buffalo who has so much facial hair.”

“Oi. I don't have that much facial hair.” you glared. the teal haired male chuckled, “You're close to growing a beard.”

“I'm fine with a beard! I'm not an eel who's afraid of heights. I find it satisfying to see you scared.”

“Well, I wouldn't be so afraid of small, harmless cats. You climb up a tree to avoid it~”

“I wouldn't mind eating eels for dinner.”

“Same with buffalo~”

“Hm. Are they hating or dating? They're spitting insults at each other…” azul sweatdropped as you and jade argued. “Or it's a competition…?”

“Hehehehe~ As long as Ictiobus-kun didn't make Jade cry again then we're fine.” Floyd chuckled.

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

rules

twisted wonderland masterlist

[ravenshavenn]

snape would cum if you played w his lil man boobs

A pinch of pleasure

(Watch me give the people what they want - I'm sorry this has been in drafts for farrrrr to long)

NSFW - Snape X gender neutral reader (tw- scars, biting)

Summary - playing with Snape's "lil man boobs" and feeding my own obsession with sub Snape

Trembling slightly Severus hands made swift work of his robes. Pale, delicate fingers unclasping each button. Until finally his scar covered torso was revealed.  

His wand discarded on a nearby potions desk, out of reach as he sat slumped in his desk chair. However, today Severus was more than happy to do things the muggle way. 

"Your gorgeous like this."  

Your voice hurled Snape back into reality. His dark eyes snapping open to focus on you. Head spinning to try and find a reply. Thoughts to disorganized to even try and form words. Let alone a coherent sentence. 

With your skirt hitched up around your thighs you straddled Snape's lap. Hands gripping securely around his shoulders. The top buttons of your own robes undone to match. Continuing to press delicate kisses to his neck you almost growled at the mouth-watering site which was Severus bare chest.  

He was slender, as was expected. Although, you hadn't anticipated the harsh jagged lines cutting across his pale flesh. Trying to make sure your gaze didn't linger you instead focused on the trail of dark hair leading down into the professor's trousers. It almost made your mouth water. Delicately you ran a hand through the fuzz on his soft belly. Half curious half admiring him the touch was still tender either way. Severus took a deep breath. 

"Ticklish?" You teased with a grin. pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Severus almost smiled.  

"Perhaps." He breathed out. Chest rising and falling rapidly underneath you. Practically quivering with anticipation under your gaze. 

You knew he'd look irresistible like this. Your underwear didn't even stand a chance. Already sodden and practically dripping. Making your head spin and the fire in your stomach burn. Your movements sporadic and needy in time with his.  

The feeling was clearly mutual as Severus let out a strangled whine when you gave a soft bite to his shoulder. That was sure to leave a mark. His pale skin already flushing pink under you. 

"Y/n-" His voice was almost as breathy as his desperate whines. Hot breath fanning out across your neck. 

You just chuckled lowly in response. Not even taking a second to respond your hands moved from around Severus waist to his shoulders. Using your position as leverage, grasping him as you ground down onto his hard member. Hot through the wool of his trousers. 

"Merlin's beard Y/n!" Severus practically shouted. Trying not to cum there and then. 

His hips bucking up wildly to meet your own. Almost knocking you off the chair. However, Severus didn't seem to notice. His head now thrown back, dark hair fanning out around his bare shoulders. 

"You seem to be enjoying yourself professor." You mumbled lowly, leaning in to nibble teasing at his jawline.  

Enjoying the blissed-out look on Severus face your eyes wandered lower. Admiring his bare chest again.  

Besides his jutting erection, practically leaving a wet patch on his trousers and his flushed features there was something else which told you about his clear state of arousal. Taking a gamble, you lent forward to mouth at Severus throat again while your hands trailed upwards. Tickling along the potion master's sensitive flesh. 

In an instant Severus eyes flew open, head snapping up to look at you, 

"What-t are you doing?" He gasped  

You only grinned wickedly watching his eyes darken. You fingers gently playing with the hardened peeks of his nipples. 

"Nothing, Severus." You mumbled innocently. 

A noise forced itself from Severus throat at your movements. Obviously enjoying the sweet torture. Absent mindedly you wondered if anyone had ever touched him like this before. Judging by his reaction you didn't think so.  

Softly you swirled a hand around the pink nub. Once again feeling Severus jolt underneath you. However, that only set a fire in your belly, feeling yourself grow even wetter if that were possible. 

Severus even seemed startled by his own reaction. Dark eyes flickering open every now and again to study your face almost anxiously between his thrusting.  

Both of you sweating and panting profusely now, your hands continued to brush over Severus chest, switching between tweaking and tracing them as you pleased.  

Severus whined pathetically as you gave them a particularly harsh pinch. That would have made you laugh if he didn't immediately buck his hips up to meet yours, drawing out a moan from you instead. Your head falling forwards to rest on his shoulder. 

It didn't take long until he gasped. Grinding feverishly against you. Trying desperately to stay still yourself, Severus's strength almost pushing you off the chair. Finally with a deep groan Severus slumped over. Resting his head against your chest. His breath coming out in ragged breaths. 

"Are you alright?" You asked, running a hand gently through his now tangled hair. 

All you got in response was a weak nod.  

You smirked, satisfied with your work. It took a lot to leave the infamous sarcastic potions professor speech less. Or so you had thought. Clearly all it took was a pinch of pleasure. 

[lesbiansforboromir]

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later. 

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith. 

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted. 

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about. 

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling! 

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment. 

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

[uriekukistan]

jjk driving hc’s plsss (any characters) :3

heyyy answering this so i can go to bed with happy thoughts :D (tears still in my eyes as i write) um idk how to drive a car so pls keep that in mind

can't drive. no license.

yuuji doesn't need to drive when he runs so fast. gojo is a certified passenger princess. will demand aux and a stop for a fun drink geto also doesn't need to drive because he has a bunch of curses he can ride around on choso is 150 years old, he would probably freak out if you put him behind the wheel yuuta idk he just looks like he can't drive. but he'll give u money for gas if you drive him somewhere panda i think this is self explanatory he's a panda

no license but they drive anyway

mahito because he's a menace to society. horrible driver. runs people over and thinks its funny. sukuna is actually weirdly good, but he's an ass on purpose. rides ppl's tailpipe and then when he passes them he goes slow af. honestly gojo belongs here too, but only happened one time. he totaled the car. inumaki but he's actually good at it for some reason. if he just took the drivers test...but he wont. he doesn't even have a learner's permit.

can legally drive but they really shouldnt because they're a hazard

definitely shoko. it's kinda alarming that she's the one to have a license out of sashisu because she's a disaster on the road. has one of those things that hangs off of the rearview mirror nobara is the type to be looking around for stuff in the car while she's moving, like looking around in the backseat EYES ON THE ROAD. there's a lot of stuff in her car but it's not messy if that makes sense. she just likes to be prepared. ino is also a horrible driver. always hitting curbs n shit. definitely been in quite a few accidents, so his car is the most beat up looking thing you've ever seen. the inside is surprisingly clean tho

actually good responsible drivers

ichiji & nitta like we've seen it happen so it's possible tsumiki would be decent at driving as well, probably speeds a bit but within the normal everyone-does-that range. clean car with pastel detailing inside like seat cushions and steering wheel nanami is probably the best driver here, but i think we expected this utahime is also a pretty responsible driver, but she definitely gets major road rage probably maki, she also gets major road rage tho

drives like a grandpa

megumi i love you but you can at least drive the speed limit...also its not gonna distract u to put a little music on. at least his car is clean and he has one of those car air fresheners

sorry if this seems disorganized im genuinely ?:????F>>VF????? rn and also its like really late for me, i just needed to do something fun after that chapter....

[sun-stricken]

Hello. I absolutely love your Fairy Tail head-canons, especially about demon slayer Gray. Feel free to take or leave these little ideas. Always love when you post <3

~

Imagine Team Natsu has to rent a vehicle or something and they require actual legal paperwork like a birth certificate and address or something like that (more than just “guild business! Gonna need this!”). Lucy doesn’t want to rent it because there is no way she’s going to be responsible for the inevitable damage. Erza, being the leader and a good friend volunteers. A few minutes later she comes back out, puzzled.

Erza: “why would they need a birth certificate? Shouldn’t me being present be proof enough of my existence?”

Gray starts snickering in the background. Natsu goes in next but comes out even earlier than Erza, cause at least Erza had a probably legal address at Fairy Hills, Natsu on the other hand lives in a house in the woods.

By the time Wendy goes in the receptionist is exasperated. “Yes I understand you are with Fairy Tail but that isn’t until page three of the paper work. None of you have made it past the first page.”

Gray finds this all very amusing.

Lucy: “Since you find it so amusing why don’t you go register, Gray!?”

Gray: mutters something

Natsu: “What do you mean you’re legally dead?!”

Cause you know, Ur just found a kid (the only survivor) and just decided to keep him. Oh, no official rescue crews didn’t show up until two days later? My kid now :)

The search and rescue teams never found any survivors in Gray’s old town so everyone was pronounced dead. The magic council or whoever is in charge of that stuff is also disorganized enough that no one realized that Gray Fullbuster is both a famous wizard and supposedly dead. So, just, Gray technically being considered legally dead the entire time he was at Fairy Tail.

~

Also, the slayers all going out on a job together(the dragon slayers had to drag Gray). The job turns out to be a trap (surprise!) and the floor just opens up revealing a giant vehicle.

Dark mage: “Ha-ha! I have bested the dragon slayer! The most powerful mages-“spots Gray just chilling, perfectly fine and not motion sick. “what are you doing?” Cause the guy was planning to capture dragon slayer, not whatever a demon slayer was (the dark mage didn’t even know demon slayers were a thing). Gray defeats the dark mage but holds it over Natsu’s head for a week.

After that anytime a large group of dragon slayers takes a job together they take Gray along for “extra security during transportation” or just extra security in general.

I also head-canon that each type of slayer magic has its own unique weakness. Dragon slayers get severely motion sick. God slayers are claustrophobic. Demon slayers cannot handle sweets. If Gray gets even a whiff of cake or any other dessert his gag reflex acts up and he gets really nauseous and other stuff like that. He of course hid it at first (he was afraid Erza would disown him) but eventually everyone learned about the weakness of demon slayers. Natsu teases him about it but never pushes it too far to the point of accidentally making Gray really sick.

Anyways, sorry for the long ask. Feel free to expand on anything. Always love some good slayer bonding head-canons and just Fairy Tail head-canons in general. <3

This was so much fun to make tbh so domt apologize, i love long asks <3 and thank for for what you said ant my posts! theyre fun to make so im glad ppl enjoy them

Oh, you have no idea how often ive though about Gray being legally dead, my personal favorite scenario is him trying to fix it and prove himself alive but cant

“How the fuck would i know my social security number??? i was eight years old! i had no reason to know!!!”

There was no dna or finger-print records of him or his family so he couldn’t prove it that way either. Apparently, declaring someone born or dead is easier than someone ‘resurrected’. To the law Gray of Isvan is dead and although Gray of Fiore bares similarities, they are two different people.

But ALSO to the law Gray of Fiore doesnt exist bc he has no birth certificate. And while hes adamant, he has no real proof beyond his word he is Gray Fullbuster of Isvan.

So basically, According to the law, Both Gray Fullbuster of Isvan and Fiore are dead and never existed, respectively.

tbh this sounds like an identity crisis waiting to happen, but what else is new with him

Erza probably tried to fix it after she was told bc she legally didnt exist for a minute either (never was filed as a real person, she was able to file for a late birth certificate on account that she wasnt claiming to be a ‘separate’ person and also Makarov did it for her) (dont ask why he didnt for Gray, i like plot holes). But quickly realized their situations were very different, him waiting over a decade to check in as a survivor with the proper authorities definitely weakened his case considering he was running around free before he decided he needed a birth certificate.

But hey, as long as he doesn’t need to rent something, or get a license or id, or work somewhere beyond Fairy Tail, or get married, or, god forbid, die again, he should be fine!

i wonder if he would be considered a ‘john doe’ if he actually died again since they have ‘no’ birth records

This also makes games like ‘two truths and a lie’ amazing

“alright so, im legally dead, i legally dont exist, and ive never physically died before” “Gray what the hell do you mean” “Guess the right one and ill tell you” “WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS MEAN THOUGH??”

i love everything to do with the ‘dragon slayers + gray’ dynamic

‘Extra security’ just turns into Gray babysitting a bunch of rambunctious dragons for hours. seriously, get this guy a reward for how he hasnt killed or maimed any of them yet.

Imagine them trying to convince Gray to walk to their destination instead of taking the train

“Its not that far!!” “its fucking 5 hours by train, How long do you think itll take to walk? Why would even you pick this job if you knew how long the ride would be??” … “nobody looked..” “are you actually serious.” … “oh my fucking god”

and thats the story of how one Demon slayer ended up having to babysit 4 very pitiful looking Fairy Tail Dragon slayers on a train. Dude had to drag them off it once it stopped too.

His side career of ‘Dragon Slayer Babysitter’ only gets harder when they realize holy shit! cold compresses can help nausea! and what do they have? a walking cold compress.

Taking a train trip with them just means second hand nausea AND embarrassment, and absolutely no personal space. A dream come true.

At least he gets to hold it over their heads

Tbh i like the irony of Dragon Slayers being motion sick because, yk, dragons can fly, so my hc for side effects for God Slayers and Demon Slayers were along the same lines

God Slayers being wide open space or flying since Gods are like the epitome of freedom? all knowing and have complete reign over everything, But claustrophobia works so much better for that same reason. It would cause extreme panic and rash decisions

And Demon Slayers was the dark because demons are supposed to be these evil creatures who thrive in the dark n stuff? basically it would send a Demon Slayer into a paranoid spiral.

But sweets being a weakness instead is such a silly thing that im gonna take it and run

Gray never cared for sweets in the first place, gave him a stomachache, but now he has to walk away from Erza mid conversation if she decides to indulge, which is almost everyday. She was absolutely heartbroken and devastated when the weakness was revealed, it was such a dramatic reaction one wouod think she was the one with the new weakness

When Gray pokes fun at Natsus motion sickness he’ll go on about how Gray is gonna have the lamest parties since he cant handle even the smell of sweets, especially cake.

A terrible realization for everyone involved with him, on par with when Gray realized he wouldnt be able to have ice cream comfortably again, thats like a staple for ice mages

heart wrenching, truly

[forlorn-crows]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 5: 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒔

words: 911 pairing(s): mountain + hank the raccoon/juniper the cat catch up on the hank lore [here] and [here] and [here]

✿

A thumbtack. An acorn. A loose ribbon. A big lilypad snatched from the lake. Pebbles, flowers, and petrified chips. Even a lost earring without its twin, the worn gold star glinting from where it’s buried in the pile of random trash and trinkets.

Mountain stares. The only reason he noticed it at all was because he had to scoot out the storage cabinet to get to the stone planters. He sets down the tower of pots he was shuffling from one end of the greenhouse to the other and wipes his hands on his apron. Curiosity reels him in; he squats down to inspect the squirreled-away pile of things at closer proximity. 

The little stash is actually quite unique. Hardly any duplicate objects besides the pebbles—even the dried blooms differ from each other. Mountain pokes around some of the objects with his finger, rummaging for the more buried items. A broken plastic bubble wand. A scrunchie. Part of a grucifix. A cork. Even a guitar pick. And . . . are those . . ?

“My glasses?!” Mountain frees them from the pile and stares at everything open-mouthed. He’s been looking for them for weeks; swore he left them in here, just on the bench, but when he had come back the next day they were gone. He had come to terms with having to get a new pair (though he quite liked these ones)—and yet, here they are.

There’s a rustling behind him, and when a round little body toddles up to him, the puzzle pieces click into place.

“Hank,” the earth ghoul accuses. He dangles the pair of readers in front of the raccoon’s twitching nose. “Why’d you steal my glasses, dude?”

Hank chitters and whips his fluffy tail back and forth, ears pinning back to his head. 

Mountain sighs and offers him a scritch under the chin. Too cute to stay mad. “I’ve been blindly potting flowers for many days, little one,” he scolds, albeit with a kinder tone. 

The animal squawks and pushes past Mountain’s legs to his trinket stash. He whines when he sees the state of it, all scattered about and disorganized.

“Well you can’t blame me for wanting to look,” the earth ghoul defends himself. “You’re not stealing from other people, are you?”

Hank screeches at the accusation.

“Sorry, sorry. Just me then, hm?” He gets screeched at again and bapped in the shin with Hank’s tail. 

Lucifer give him strength, he’s arguing with a raccoon. “Okay, let’s just say you found them, then.”

Hank is pleased with this answer. He chirps and begins to re-arrange his items. 

“Why do you have all this anyway? I mean, I’m a lover of a good trinket myself, but you aren’t exactly the collecting type of species . . . also I’m not sure that all of these things count as trinkets.”

The animal gives him the best side-eye a raccoon can muster.

“Hank, there’s a dead bumblebee in here.”

If a raccoon could roll its eyes and lift its chin indignantly, Hank would do that. Instead, he chitters what can only be a string of small mammalian passive aggressive statements. 

“There’s no need for such language.”

Hiss. Chirp chirp. 

Mountain rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying you can’t—listen. Little one. My darling. Little. Creature.” He emphasizes each word with a sigh, chopping his pressed-together palms down as punctuation. Hank stops fussing with his objects and looks at the earth ghoul with those black little orbs. “Could we, perhaps, just find a better place for them? Put them somewhere I’m not going to accidentally crush them with an old armoire, yeah?” 

The animal screes happily, bouncing over to the earth ghoul and standing up with his little hands outstretched. Mountain snorts and picks him up, rising back up to his feet and flipping him over to rub his belly. 

“Why do you have to be so cute?” he asks, playfully pinching under Hank’s chin. The raccoon only kicks up a scratchy purr in response, swatting at Mountain’s wrists weakly. Mountain bounces him like a baby for a few moments before setting him down again, glancing around for something to use for his friend’s treasures. 

“Hm. I think there’s an old basket or . . . something around here,” he mumbles. He taps his hands on his apron as he scans the rows of tables and shelves. No . . . no . . . no. Suddenly, Mountain stops. Scrunches his face up and turns back towards Hank fully confused.

“Why are you hoarding things anyway?”

As if to answer his question, Juniper squeezes her way through the back door. Mountain had put a kitty door in it for her and Hank—though, Hank still prefers to force himself through the gap in the opposite corner of the green house where the windows have bowed out throughout the years. 

The white cat offers a mrrow in greeting, striding up to the both of them with an unbothered, graceful aire. Hank chitters excitedly and bounds over to his pile of trinkets, quickly selecting a mystery bauble between his thin little paws. He shoves it in his mouth and runs over to her side, chirping in greeting and dropping the object at her feet.

A close-to-fresh dandelion. Juniper mrrp’s at the gift and leans down to inspect it, the buttercup yellow petals tickling her nose. She seems pleased with the gift and rubs her cheek affectionately against Hank's with a purr. Two little unlikely lovebirds.

“Ah. Should have guessed that’s who those were for . . .”

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿

[wowa-bublord]

Just found your Zack lives au and I love it!!!! I have a question about tifa and barret tho if that's ok!! What's their thoughts about the whole situation?? About how they're on the run from shinra and what they did to them?

YAYYY BARRET AND TIFA OMG. i have soo many ideas for them but im still figuring out quite how i want 2 draw them so this post is going to be mostly words.

both Tifa and Barret are initially suspicious of Zack, for good reason. With Barret recognizing him as a SOLDIER and Tifa recognizing him as specifically one of the SOLDIERs from Sephiroths mission in Nibelheim, theyre both not really sure what to make of him. Tifa, despite her suspicion, is grateful towards Zack for taking care of Cloud, and gets him the room he stays in to both get cloud a stable space to sleep, and keep him close enough to keep an eye on. Since they are suspicious of him, I imagine the timeline of missions would get a bit disorganized- Zack wouldn't be invited onto Avalanche as early as Cloud was, and he'd be hesitant to be so far from Clouds side even to take down Shinra. Slowly, though, since Tifa is also very interested in Clouds well being, Zack and her form an initially unsteady bond based on their care for him, which turns into a real friendship between the two of them!!

Tifas eventual trust in Zack would leak into Barrets trust in him- as he trusts her judgement 100%, even if he's more open with his worries on the matter. I think Zack and Barret would become fast friends once Barret starts to lose his suspicion of him. They're both stubborn, easily agitated people who also have a tendency to act silly or goofy or make a joke when situations get tough to ease tension.

And, in response to their warming up to them, Zack would be able to drop his own ":-)" mask a little bit and slowly open up about what he's been through and how Shinra has hurt him. Though, Zacks own trust in them does come with its ups and downs, especially when it comes to Cloud. (Sorry for the kinda off model barret here, it was my first ever sketch of him i will make more content of him soon >,<)

[jaeyunluvbot]

[ 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 ] just awful

𝝑𝝔 You sigh heavily as you frantically shove things into your bag, irritated at the short notice Ni-ki had given you about his availability. Your text conversation had been frustrating to say the least, with very few words being exchanged, only enough to agree on a meeting place an time.

You zip your backpack shut and rush out the door, calling out to your parents that you were heading to work on a project, getting no response.

As you exit the house, you take several deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down, not wanting to show up to your meeting flustered and frazzled.

The walk to the library is short, courtesy of your house's location being close to the school. One of the few perks of the private school you attended was that the library stayed open until 2:00 am, a feature you'd taken advantage of several times during your time there.

You reach the library exactly 10 minutes before your agreed upon meeting time, not wanting to make him wait when he was clearly flaky already.

You grab a good spot in a quiet, secluded part of the library and text Ni-ki, letting him know where to find you. You pull out your laptop and begin working in the shared doc you created.

As you work, you realize that way more than 10 minutes have passed, and Ni-ki is nowhere to be found. You begrudgingly pull out your phone and text him, asking where he was.

Eventually, after 40 minutes of working and constantly checking your phone, you hear someone approaching your table. You look up in annoyance and see Ni-ki standing over you.

"You're late," you say, deadpan expression on your face.

He scoffs and tosses his backpack onto the table, plopping down in the chair furthest from you at the table, "You should be glad I even showed up."

You roll your eyes and pull up the rubric, "Ok, well, since I already starting working, I split up the work as evenly as possible. I'll do the research for the first part of the question, and you can research the second part. Put all the info in this doc and I'll format it properly."

You look up from your laptop to see Ni-ki looking bored and totally disengaged, "Listen, this project is huge for our grade and I really need an A, can we just get the work done so we can move on?"

He shrugs and opens his laptop, "The faster I'm done being your partner, the better."

You scoff at his insult but bite your tongue, just wanting to get as much work done as possible.

You're trying to focus on your own part of the research, but keep getting distracted by Ni-ki's messy typing and disorganized sentences appearing below yours.

"Can you at least organize it a little?" You ask pointedly, irritated that he wasn't even trying to make your life a little bit easier.

He snaps his head up to look at you, suddenly looking more irritated than bored, "Listen, I showed up and I'm doing my work, stop being so controlling."

His sudden outburst shocks you a bit, so you just nod and look back down at your computer.

More time passes and you eventually decide that you've done enough work for the day, that, and the fact that Ni-ki's presence was suffocatingly uncomfortable.

"Alright, that's enough for today. We'll need to figure out when we can work on the project again, but we made a good start."

You don't even wait for him to respond before shoving your laptop back into your bag and speed walking out of the library. 𝝑𝝔

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝝑𝝔 yay new chapter woohoo!! i want a real enemies to lovers so ni-ki's gonna be mean at first , sorry guys :(

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝝑𝝔 @gweoriz @chenlesfavorite @wonwonpuffs @soobinbunnie5