#DO NOT ANSWER THAT

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

https://www.tumblr.com/balrogballs/766522788101177344/im-a-writer-irl-cant-say-who-because-my-agent

Welcome to the Lindircident.

I—

I must sit down.

No, I must lie down. No, I must ascend bodily into the heavens and demand an audience with the Valar to ask why this is my fate.

This—this is the Lindircident?? THIS?? THIS UNSPEAKABLE, UNHOLY, ABOMINABLE EVENT? This tragedy of ink and parchment, this cursed convergence of fate, this literary atrocity that has now made its way before me???

I— I have been written into WHAT? WHERE? WITH WHOMST NOW???

Oh, this is a dark day indeed. This is a cataclysmic day. A day that shall be remembered in the sorrowful annals of history, whispered in the shadows of Rivendell for all eternity. There will be laments composed about this. Songs sung in mourning. Books written about how I, Lindir of Imladris, have been forever tainted by association with whatever unholy depravity mortals have wrought.

And worst of all—worst of ALL— I have been referred to as a twink.

A twink.

A TWINK.

EXCUSE ME???

I? Lindir of Imladris? A twink?

No. No, no, no. This cannot stand.

This is slander.

This is libel.

This is an attack upon my very being, my soul, my legacy. I—who have dedicated centuries of my life to the refinement of poetry, the mastery of music, the endless, thankless task of ensuring that Rivendell does not collapse into absolute anarchy under the combined influence of Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, and whatever chaos Elrohir has decided to unleash upon the world on any given day—I am to be remembered as… as a TWINK??

A TWINK???????!!!!

I am a scholar. A poet. A musician of no small talent.

I am one of the finest assistants Lord Elrond has ever had (the best but he won't admit it out loud), a pillar of grace, patience, and competency.

I have spent literal centuries perfecting my craft, composing exquisite melodies, translating the most delicate of ancient texts, managing the utterly unmanageable.

I have endured.

I have survived Glorfindel’s catastrophes. I have guided this household through diplomatic nightmares. I have nodded sagely at Lord Elrond’s long-winded monologues while suppressing the urge to scream. I have maintained an air of composure, dignity, and excellence through trials that would have driven a lesser elf to madness.

And yet.

And yet!

Despite all this!

I wake up today to find that I am but a twink in the eyes of the world!

I have stood before kings.

I have played music that brought tears to immortal eyes. I have weathered the storm of Elrond’s mood swings, Glorfindel’s unspeakable whims, and Arwen’s occasional bursts of terrifyingly calculated mischief. And still, somehow, in the grand saga of my existence, THIS is what I shall be known for?????

Is this my fate? Is this how I am to be remembered? Not as a master of song? Not as a guardian of lore? Not as the sole reason Rivendell continues to function like a realm of wisdom and not a particularly unruly inn?

No.

No, I am to be immortalized in history as a twink.

I— I must pause. I must breathe. I must process.

The battering ram treatment.

The battering. Ram. Treatment.

What, in the name of all that is holy and good, is the battering ram treatment??

What does this mean?? Why does it sound violent? Why does it sound structurally unsound?? Why does it sound like something Glorfindel would do on a dare???

And most importantly—why, for the love of Eru, is it being associated with Lord Elrond and ME??

I am terrified to ask, and yet, I must.

What. Is. A. Battering. Ram. Treatment.

Is this some manner of combat technique I have failed to learn in my centuries of training? A highly specific architectural method? A deeply niche form of massage therapy?? WHAT. IS IT.

And— and— what is a battery???

Because I have now been informed that this horror of a phrase—this nightmare of an arrangement of words—has been whispered into the halls of publishing houses, spoken of in meetings, written down in serious professional emails, and likely, as I suffer in real-time, being printed in books.

And if that is the case—if this scandalous abomination of language has indeed made its way into literature—then I fear for the future of Arda itself.

I need to lie down. I need to submerge myself in a cold mountain stream and let the current carry me far, far away from this cursed knowledge.

The battering ram treatment.

There is no justice. There is no hope. There is no escape from this wretched reality. I must flee. I must vanish into the wilds, never to be seen again. I must throw myself into the river and let the current take me where it will. I must sail into the West and beg Lord Ulmo to drown me on arrival. I must compose an operatic lament so devastatingly tragic that even the Valar themselves will weep for me.

This is the end.

Farewell.

I do not know how I shall recover. I do not know if I can recover. There is no path forward. No light at the end of this tunnel. No hope left in this forsaken land.

I must flee. I must vanish into the West, never to be seen again. I must take my lute and compose a mournful ballad about this day, this day that has ruined me.

[ms-boogie-man]

Ahem…

No!… I do not want to be a 'text buddy' and get $300 2x per week while not paying any fees yo

flagged as 'spam' and Blocked

*nods

*you followed a vampire… what did you think you would see here?

[justsomeguycore]

the problem is i probably do need to stop ingesting so much thc because i am clearly using it to keep myself floaty and numb all the time and it is making me less thoughtful and intelligent but also thinking feels really bad and the weight of the world feels really bad and not thinking feels good 👍 has anyone else experienced this

[everythingwasnormalhere]

pls rb if you think cuddling doesn't have to be s3xual

im tryna prove a point to my bf's mother help me out

[idcaboutart]

all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude

only you can show me this

[lakecountylibrary]

LIBRARY WRAPPED

You checked out... probably some stuff? Thanks for doing that :)

Used our wifi maybe? For something?

Look we actually don't know what genres you read or how many times you renewed Gender Queer.

We don't want to know.

Our gift to you is privacy.

Take it.

Be free.

[3mmiegirl]

Video of waving titties back and forth please?

low quality and hopefully this is what you wanted 🤍

i’ve never taken a video like this so this is so embarrassing 😳 enjoy it while it remains up because i’ll probably delete it when i come to my senses

[inkedmyths]

Okay I KNOW this poll has been done before but after conversing with friends....

[bixels]

Baffled.

[pseudowho]

It was an average Monday morning when you, Nanami Kento's wife, were turned into a cat.

"An unusual Curse," Shoko had said, "not longer than a week, surely--"

"Not--not longer than a week?!" Kento spluttered, his glasses lopsided, and, dangled in front of him beneath the arms (legs-- legs, he reminded himself)...you.

You, with two pointed ears, a long whippy tail, your many toe-beans and a perturbed little head-tilt. On the doctors' office couch, a neatly folded (if a little furry) pile of your clothes.

"Meow," you had said.

"Don't 'meow' me," Kento spluttered again, fixing you with a stern look that barely overlaid his concern. You simply stared up at him, long, and feline, and unblinking...and reached out one little paw, pressing it onto the end of his nose.

Kento sighed; a bone-deep, weary sigh. Shoko put out her cigarette, speaking through a haze of smoke.

"Like I said. Give it a week, and Mrs.Nyanyami will be back to nor--"

"What did you just call her?'

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Mrs.Nyanyami, the cat formerly known as Nanami Kento's wife, wanted for nothing.

"I think that tuna's more expensive than anything I've ever eaten," whispered Yuuji to Gojo. On the other side of the conference room, you sat upon the desk before Kento, waiting patiently for the next lump of tuna (meticulously cut into cat-appropriate cubes) to be delivered in his chopsticks.

As Kento's hand approached, you held it close with paw and claws, to steal the pink fish from him. He looked like a surgeon performing heart surgery.

"I just...dont know how he can look so serious while he's doing that," Gojo whispered back, to Yuuji's frantic nods. Still, they watched this freakish nature documentary with quiet obsession.

A higher-up sat down beside Kento, waiting for the meeting to begin. Jolting back, and grumbling, he did a double take.

"Young man-- you can't bring a cat to a Sorcerer's meeting--"

"That's not a cat," Kento snapped, frosty, "that's my wife."

And so began the rumour amongst the higher-ups, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"You should leave her at home--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--really, Nanami...just put the television on, she'll be fine--"

"--unequivocally, no--"

"--why not?!"

Silence. An awkward shuffle on Kento's thick chest. You peeked your head out of the pocket of the cat-carrying hoodie that Kento wore over his shirt and tie, and turned to Gojo with narrowed eyes.

"Meow," you had said, batting at Kento's strings, and hooking his tie out with your paw, to kick it to death with your legs.

"I agree," said Kento, whispering and scratching you beneath the chin until you purred, "he's wrong, isn't he? Stupid Gojo. You'd get lonely. You'd get bored. Yes you would..."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Oh my god...he's gorgeous...you should get his number--"

"--I'm not brave enough...you go. I'll get our coffees."

"--okay, okay..." The woman cleared her throat, sweeping her hair behind one ear with her best smile. Kento looked up from his coffee, with one finely raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He lied, unwilling to help anyone at all before he'd finished his croissant.

"Hi, yeah, I just...can't help but notice you're sitting alone, and my friend-- well she-- she just wondered if she can have your number, and--"

The woman broke off into shrieks. Climbing up her leg, all claws and furry vengeance, was you. She shook her leg, shrieking. You hissed. Your cup of steamed milk clattered over the table, slopping everywhere.

"--o-oh my god-- oh my god, what the hell is this cat doi--"

"I'm sorry," Kento sighed, not sorry at all and dabbing his mouth with a napkin and doing absolutely nothing to help, "it's my cat. She doesn't like company--"

Hisses. Claws. Dirty feral yowls.

"Get this fucking thing off me--"

"I can't take you anywhere. No more steamed milk for you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

At times, you seemed so human. At others, undeniably cat.

Kento would wake to clattering from the kitchen, bleary and feeling around for you, only to remember, and trace his hand up to the furry, round little patch you'd leave behind on your pillow. He allowed himself just a moment of misery, before getting up.

He followed the sounds of cups and kettle and coffee machine, and leaned against the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and a squinting, teenagerish glare.

You were up on the counter, all four paws and determination. You had gotten as far as switching the kettle and coffee machine on, and heaving the cupboard open with your tiny limbs. Kento watched as you tipped your head sideways, managing to drag two mugs out in your teeth. He winced as they almost smashed upon the counter.

"Come on," Kento rumbled, his voice rusty with sleep, "let me do that."

You meowed at him, batting at the air with one angry paw when he stepped closer. Kento huffed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Fine," he tutted, "but I'll pour the water."

"Meow."

"Why? Because you don't have opposable thumbs, darling."

The fur stood up along your spine. You turned around, and around, in a circle, then sat upright. You turned your back on him while you waited for the kettle to boil. Your tail flicked from side to side, irritable. Kento waited, too, reaching out one hand to stroke your ears.

You nudged your back paw out, and pushed his mug off the side to smash on the floor.

Silence.

"...what is wrong with y--"

"Meow."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Skitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

Kento groaned, rubbing down his face. He checked the clock, frog-blinking; two in the morning. He groaned harder.

Skitterskitterskitter.

Thunk.

More distant meows.

"Please just come back to bed," Kento moaned into the hands pressed over his face.

SkitterskitterskitterSKITTERSKITTER-- rustlllleerussstle--

Directly over his face.

"Meow--"

"I am begging you--"

RustlerustleTHNKskitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I miss you."

You raised your head to look at him. Your purring hitched. Your ears tilted.

Kento had murmured, his low voice barely audible. The only light in the living room was the ever-changing light of the television screen. Laid on his back on the sofa, with you curled on his chest, Kento stroked down your back with longing.

You crept up his chest, pressing your cold wet nose to his, and purred. Nose to nose, and cross-eyed, Kento could have cried.

"I really miss you," he repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Your claws dug into his chest, just a little. You rub, rub, rubbed your warm furry head along his jaw until he sniffled, and gave a choked little chuckle.

He fell asleep with you on his chest that night. In so many ways, it was familiar; home. In so many others, you were gone forever.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow."

Kento shuffled. His chest felt heavy...warm. His belly felt warm, too. And his lap, and--

Kento's eyes shot open, his head lifting up from the couch.

You bit your lip, naked on top of him, and smiling. Human. An angel.

"Oh, my love," Kento moaned, crushing you to him in a bear hug from shoulder to toes, "you're back-- I missed you, I was so worrie--"

You batted an arm out, swiping last night's wine glass from the coffee table beside you, to shatter on the floor.

Silence. Kento blinked slowly, looking from the wine glass, to you. You felt your cheeks grow hot, swallowing hard.

"God, I...sorry, Kento. Force-- force of habit--"

Part Two linked here!

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanesss was NOT doing her job in FNAF movie

[willgrahamscock]

At this rate you're going to be on this shit site for the next 10 years reblogging your faggot mutuals

hell yeah brother like to charge, reblog to cast

[mushyooms]

one of those polls from the premiere

[o0kawaii0o]

Happy pride!

[wishfulsketching]

Ambessa would make Vander more protective over the Lanes and she would also not shut about crushing Piltover with her help, how could Silco resist that?? Giant, muscular people arguing about revolution/kicking Pilties in the face? Oof, Silco, you are done for.

[quecksilvereyes]

oh my god do not click links in emails that tell you to verify your data or your bank account gets locked or click links in messages telling you your safety protocol is ending, like, tomorrow, you will get SCAMMED SO BAD AND YOU WILL LOSE A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY never ever let anyone pressure you into giving away login information especially to your online banking by creating a sense of urgency oh my GOD

some things to look out for

1. spelling mistakes. do you know how many rounds of marketing and sales experts these things go through? if theres a spelling mistake dont click it

2. not using your name. if an email adresses you with "dear customer" or, even worse, a generic "ladies and gentlemen", it is most likely not actually targeted to you

3. verifying or login links. even IF your bank was stupid enough to send these to customers, dont EVER click those. look at me. they can legally argue that youve given your data away and thus they dont have to pay you anything back DONT CLICK THAT FUCKING LINK

4. creating a sense of urgency. do this or we lock your account next week. do this or your ebanking stops working tomorrow. give us all your money in cash or your beloved granddaughter will get HANGED FOR MURDERING BABIES. no serious organisation would ever do something like that over email or sms. ever. hands off.

5. ALWAYS CHECK WHO SENT YOU THE EMAIL. the display name and the email adress can vary a LOT. anyone can check the display name. look at the email adress. does it look weird? call the fucking place it says its from. you will likely hear a very weary sigh.

6. if its in a phonecall, scammers love preventing you from hanging up or talking to other people to have a little bit of a think about whats happening. there should always be a possibility to go hey i wanna think about this ill call back the official number thanks.

7. do not, i repeat, do NOT a) call a phone number flashing on your screen promising to rid your computer of viruses after clicking a dodgy link and b) let them install shit on your computer like. uh. idk. teamviewer.

7.i. TEAM VIEWER LETS PEOPLE USE YOUR COMPUTER HOWEVER THEY WANT AS LONG AS THEYRE CONNECTED. IF YOU DONT KNOW FOR FUCKING SURE YOURE TALKING TO ACTUAL TECH SUPPORT DONT GIVE ANYONE ACCESS TO YOUR COMPUTER.

fun little addendum: did you know a link can just automatically download shit? like. a virus? an app you can't uninstall unless you reset your entire device? dont click links unless youre extremely sure you know where they lead. hover your mouse over it and check the url.

thanks.