#this should be elaborated on because i feel like i'm sort of also doing a contrast comparison

[lilacerull0]

I heard telephones, opera house, favorite melodies

I saw boys, toys, electric irons and TV's

My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare

I had to cram so many things to store everything in there

[bearenjoyers]

sorry im just thinking about bcs but like. why not add a few smaller scenes of gus interacting with his own men? why does it seem like, in comparison, mike is almost immediately elevated to a higher status than those two in bcs purely because we actually get to see him having normal conversations with gus? like i understand they might not keep the plot moving as well because of the fact obviously if victor is currently doing something it’s because gus told him to etc. but for the most part all of the smaller interactions gus does have with those two ends up being in a somewhat high stress situation where it feels very tense between everyone. and it’s just like damn! is it always like that?? why do those two even care that much about their jobs if their boss is a bit of a dick? etc. i think even an additional scene or two with those guys (either alone or the both of them) talking with gus in a more normal situation could’ve both added a bit more depth into how gus treats his employees (we got a lot with how he treats lyle and co., but not a whole lot with the illegal side of things), how comfortable vic and tyrus feel around him in a calmer setting, and exactly why they both feel the need to be as loyal as they are to the guy.

and also on the other side of this i don't think it'd hurt to maybe elaborate on their pay just a bit..? i'm not saying to randomly put a number out into the atmosphere but i just mean some smaller things like. do they buy nicer things for themselves? what's their housing situation? what's their car situation? are the escalade / yukon their own vehicles or does gus just use those two for business situations? do they use them when they're doing their own stuff off the clock or do they have their own cars? etc. that can also help with understanding their motivations a bit. don't get me wrong i don't think they should be visibly rich or something because that's not what gus would want but just smaller things! cause it's easy to write their loyalty off as Well they probably get paid super well, which i'm sure is true, but if they don't show a single hint of that then what's the point. even something as simple as giving tyrus a nice watch, or maybe victor having a nicer looking gun, etc. something small like that. because as it stands right now the average 41 year old viewer who watched the show once only knows and will only ever know victor and tyrus as those two guys in the background who do random stuff for gus with no clear motivation. just the personification of "On it boss (salute emoji)". and to be honest this is true for a whole lot of fans who do watch the show multiple times and enjoy thinking about it more in depth, because on screen we barely have anything about the two.

and to be clear i'm not trying to say we should have an episode just for them or something like no i understand they're side characters. i understand we don't need all that. and i understand this is also primarily Jimmy's show. but it's not like these two are on the same level as like, arlo or paige and kevin etc. these guys have been around since brba. victor was literally introduced in the same episode gus was. and they are a huge part of gus's story, especially in brba. s4 wouldn't have been what it was without victor and tyrus. and in bcs, ignacio's situation wouldn't have been the same if it weren't for victor and tyrus as well. and i just personally believe that if their goal with gus in bcs was to go back and elaborate on how everything came to be and show what he was like a few years younger, they could've dragged victor and tyrus into that. and i think his character would've benefited from taking that extra step with those two.

[wolfiesmoon]

When you wear their clothes

genshin men x gn!reader

characters featured: xiao, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli and itto

i've been dreaming about genshin a lot lately idk this game has possesed me or smth so i feel like i'm required to write this? Also DAMN im rusty with genshin characters so i apologise profusely for any ooc-ness

(also wrio's is kinda suggestive!!)

XIAO is confused. Why on earth are you wearing his clothes? He isn't opposed to it specifically, but doesn't understand the appeal or the reason why you do it. "My clothes don't fit you properly. What's the point?" he asks, completely straight faced. You smile. "It reminds me of you when you're not with me!" He just scoffs and says he doesn't get your strange habits before moving on with his day. Somehow though, the image of you in his clothes won't leave his mind for the rest of the day. "Dammit..." he mumbles under his breath, barely audible when nobody's around. Don't bring up his pink cheeks in the evening when he comes back to see you, he will not elaborate.

Similarly, NEUVILLETTE is also confused. This must be another human thing that he isn't familiar with. What does wearing their lover's clothes mean to humans? "Oh, I just missed you... your clothes remind me of you, you know?" You explained when he questioned you on the matter. "Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Do you want more items related to myself for when I am absent?" He asks. While you do want to know what items he would bring you, you turn him down. "I like your shirts the most, because they smell like you and feel like your hugs." He doesn't know why exactly, but he has the urge to kiss you all of a sudden.

WRIOTHESLEY feels distracted when he sees you in his clothes from time to time. He gets busy a lot, so the moments he gets to spend with you feel extra special. But, what is he to do when you look so positively yummy in his shirt? "Hey, mind taking my shirt off? It's... sort of distracting." he admits, taking a sip of his tea. "But, wouldn't it be even more distracting if I took it off now?" you asked, feigning an innocent look. He almost spit out his tea. "I did not mean it like that...! Surely you're just teasing me." You just smiled mischeviously in response, taking a sip out of your own cup. "That's what I thought. I know that look."

ZHONGLI thinks you look odd in his clothes. Odd, but not bad by any means. You actually look quite endearing. "I'll make sure to commit this to memory." he says calmly, sitting down next to you on the bed. "You say that every time you're with me." you poke his shoulder gently, smiling up at him. "That's because everything about you is worth remembering, I suppose." Still, he thinks this specific memory is one he will treasure for a long, long time. "Oh my..." you felt heat rushing to your cheeks at his words, hugging his arm. Actually, he changed his mind, you're positively adorable in his clothes.

You're basically asking to get attacked with a flurry of kisses if you wear ITTO'S clothes in front of him. That's like, a show of affection! That you're totally his and no one else's! And that also means it's a cause for celebration! "Agh, Itto- Stop!" you try and fail to push his face away. "Hehehe..." he gives you a bright smile and places a big ol' kiss on your lips. "You should wear my clothes more often!!!" he felt proud of himself, puffing out his chest. "Ummm, whatever you say..." you're kind of worried that if you do that, your face will never escape his lips.

[dewdr0pz]

he looks just like a dream ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

summary: dating headcanons w/ remus lupin

a/n: hello!! this is my most recent fic on this account and my first Marauders fic, so sorry if this is bad!! also, please keep in mind that even though i'm writing a fic about something tied to the Harry Potter universe, this does NOT AT ALL mean i like JK Rowling. i've liked her books since i was a child and have been separating the art from the artist for quite some time when it comes to this. also, i've written Remus in more of a modern situation, so keep that in mind :)

tags: @back-totheoldhouse @daemontargaryennn @o-kye @unbeleevable @mochamuff1n @call-me-frosting-or-not-idc @dangerouslyyour (this is me just guessing who would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be removed/added from the taglist!!)

warnings: nicknames with "girl" in them but otherwise gn!reader, mentions of crying, mentions of scars

boyfriend!remus who's memorized how you like your coffee or tea. or if you don't like either, he's memorized your favorite drink and has perfected it every time he makes it. you tell him it's not needed, that you can make drinks yourself, but he says it's worth it just to see the smile on your face.

boyfriend!remus who wouldn't dare tell you to cover up with a dress or outfit you're wearing when you go out ("any guy who tells their girlfriend/partner to cover up because it makes him uncomfortable or insecure instantly just proves he has a fragile ego accompanied by a micropenis.") and he'll only suggest a jacket if he knows it'll be cold outside. if you're happy in what you're wearing, why should he stop you?

boyfriend!remus who reads the books you're reading to have an extra thing to talk to you about and to ensure he understands what you're describing when you rant about how much you either love it or hate it. "yeah I know, I can't believe he did that!" "seriously, the way the writer set up the plot is terrific." "what was the author thinking? the plot makes no sense."

boyfriend!remus who always gives you his clothes. his soft beige knit sweater? of course you can wear it to our date. you need to borrow his beanie because it's cold outside? please do. you want to wear his shirt to bed? just keep it, he thinks it looks 10x better on you.

boyfriend!remus who takes you on all sorts of dates. library dates, lego building dates (which turn into laughing hysterically because one of you doesn't understand the instructions and the other one does understand, but can't find the right piece), cafe dates, aquarium dates, baking/cooking dates, late night walk/drives dates...the list goes on (i will happily elaborate on any of these if asked). he may or may not stalk your pinterest to find out what dates you like

boyfriend!remus who subtly shows you off to the marauders. he's usually a little bit touchy with you in public (a hand on the small of your back or intertwined with yours, his arms around your waist or shoulders, etc.), but he does it more around his friends. it's not any sort of intentional possessive thing (like "grrr my bbg is mine you can't have her raaah"), he just likes people knowing he has a gorgeous partner :)

boyfriend!remus whose room is littered in random trinkets, some of which he'll randomly gift to you. a silver pocket watch he found with intricate details because he thinks you'd like it. a rock or crystal he says looks like your eyes. a flower that he found because he remembered the one time you said "what a pretty flower" when you accompanied him on a walk. a stuffed animal he found at a yard sale because it was your favorite animal. the list goes on.

boyfriend!remus who mainly shows love through acts of service and physical touch. your shoe's untied? he's getting down on his knee to tie it. your books are a bit heavy? he'll carry all of them for you. you're not feeling good? he's doing your homework.

boyfriend!remus whose nicknames for you are mainly "dove/dovey", "baby", and "darling". he calls you "sweet girl/pretty girl" when you're sick, under the weather, or sad, "my love/my dearest" when he knows you're upset, and "sweetheart" when you're in an argument.

boyfriend!remus who would be terrified of showing a lot of skin around you because of his scars mainly because he doesn't want you to be disgusted. he knows deep down that you wouldn't, but it's a deeply-rooted fear for him.

"Remus, your friends have scars. Does that make them ugly or bad people?"

"No."

"Some of the teachers you like have scars. Does that make them ugly or bad people?"

"No."

"I have scars. Does that make me ugly?"

"Of course not, dove."

"So then why do you think scars make you ugly if they don't make anyone else you care about ugly?"

[jmdbjk]

White Bear Artillery Brigade.

I'm not here to share anything earth shattering or reveal new information. I'm just going to elaborate on what I know and how I see it. Feel free to form your own opinions.

Ok so, from everything I know, this is how I'm understanding it (long ramble)...

Republic of Korea (ROK) Armed Forces is one of the largest and most powerful standing armed forces in the world. At any given time, it consists of about 600,000 active duty soldiers and approximately 3 million reservists.

Soldiers are automatically transferred to the Reserve Forces upon discharge from their initial active duty service and serve four years in the Mobilization Reserve followed by four years as a Homeland Reservist. No one ever talks about this. They are not "free" following their active duty service. They are still considered reservists.

Jimin and Jungkook are in the White Bear Artillery Brigade of the 5th Infantry Division of the Republic of Korea Army (ROKA).

ROKA itself, the Army, is the largest of the military branches. The other ROK military branches are ROK Navy and ROK Air Force. The ROK Marines are part of their Navy forces.

It might be difficult to fathom the scope and size of ROKA. Here is an outline of the structure. You will need to scroll down a ways to see where the 5th Infantry Division falls. It is under Army Ground Operations and then under V Corps (Corps 5).

The White Bear Brigade consists of the: 195th, 196th, 205th and 988th Field Artillery Battalions. The 196th is also called YELLOW DRAGON.

I do not know which Field Artillery Battalion Jimin and Jungkook are assigned to.

Each of these Field Artillery Battalions are scattered in different locations but tied to the 5th Infantry Division. The 5th Infantry Division's top general controls these Field Artillery Battalions.

And the term "field" only means they are not located at the training base where Jin is.

It means they are out in the "field" in another remote, secluded strategic location, away from the main base, where if necessary, they and their artillery, can be deployed efficiently and rapidly should this action be required.

They don't see Jin any more. He is at a separate location.

The front line between South Korea and North Korea is lined with hills and low-lying mountains, they will be nestled up in there somewhere.

"Field" does not mean they are living in the middle of a farm field in tents, cooking food over campfires. It means they are at a base somewhere in the hills and mountains. This base will hold lots of other soldiers, though not as many soldiers as there are at the original training base where Jin is because that's sort of a hub where they deploy the newly trained soldiers from.

Simple terms: Jimin and Jungkook are out there in the middle of nowhere near the front lines at a base where they take care of weaponry like tanks and the ammo for tanks in case they have to quickly respond to an attack. Heaven forbid.

Anyway. How many ways can I explain that? Obvs a bunch.

Military jobs.

There are probably dozens of jobs that an Army base like theirs requires.

Cooking food to feed all the soldiers is one of those jobs. Cleaning the kitchen after cooking is part of that job. There were rumors since January that Jungkook was a kitchen worker. Those in the K-military call it Kitchen Police. And then JK just said he is cooking rice and cleaning up to the ceiling so that pretty much confirms he is indeed a Kitchen Police.

In the context of him being enlisted in the military and him coming to tell us he is doing good in the military, he is telling us he cooks rice and cleans up afterward.

He didn't mean he sometimes randomly cooks rice in his room. Nor did he mean he made himself a snack. It doesn't mean he also has a second job of cleaning. Everything he does will be associated with the Kitchen Police.

Their days are very regimented and structured. He will be one soldier on a team of soldiers tasked with creating enough food 3 times a day to feed the entire base. It is a full time job.

The rumor for Jimin is that he might be in a role that involves maintenance. Maintenance of what? We don't know. But what we know about Jimin is that he was on the robotics team in school, he has leadership skills, and he made a bunch of LEGO kits and a miniature house model in front of us during several weverse lives. Is he putting together computers? Is he reassembling machinery? We don't know.

The Companion Enlistment Program.

The buddy system was created in 2003 in order to foster better outcomes and psychologically stronger soldiers. It allows those who choose to enlist under this program to be with someone who they can gain this support from throughout their enlistment. That's the whole point. To be together during their enlistment.

The age range is dynamic. Every year this range progresses one year.

For 2023, the age range for this program were those born between Jan. 1, 1995 and Dec. 31, 2005. For 2024, the age range will be those born between Jan. 1, 1996 and Dec. 31, 2006. And so on.

The reason is because only Korean men between the ages of 18-28 are conscripted. 2023 was the last year Jimin was eligible for this program.

The criteria is very specific when choosing this type of enlistment. You can't "game" the system by enlisting in this program for reasons other than the ones the military has set for this type of enlistment. It's the military... they are masters at the "game." Strategy, out-thinking the enemy, creative warfare... that's their gig.

The barracks where Jimin and Jungkook sleep will be the same. The bathroom where they wash up will be the same. The cafeteria where they eat will be the same. Their recreational facilities will be the same.

It's the same base, same facilities. They may not be in each other's faces while they perform their jobs every day, but they see each other EVERY DAY. They sleep together EVERY NIGHT.

Delulu time.

Every time I say that I go "hammer time" and think of MC Hammer and the song starts in my head...anyway... I'm a dork.

I can imagine Jungkook's day starts a little earlier than Jimin's because the kitchen will need to be ready to serve breakfast for the rest of the soldiers.

There might be other teams/groups who also begin their day earlier than others. Perhaps they all gather and do some sort of brief, early morning drills or general chores before heading off to their respective posts/jobs for the day. I don't know, just guessing.

The kitchen team would do things like take in supplies, store the supplies correctly according to regulations, place orders for more supplies, gather the ingredients to make that day's menus, prepare the foods according to specified recipes, serve the food, maintain and clean the serving area, maintain and clean the cooking appliances, cookware, cooking utensils, clean the food trays and eating utensils, clean the kitchen from floor to ceiling, plan and prepare for the next day's menus, doing any preliminary prep like thawing frozen food, etc.

Menus are not decided on a whim. The Army will have set daily menus and have contracts within the country's food industry to provide ingredients and supplies in bulk.

I used to think it was slightly odd to obsess over the food they were being served in the military. But now I'm keenly interested. Is there a jikook food tray account on X?

As I don't really know the details of Jimin's job, I can only guess that he reports to his job, carries out his duties just like Jungkook and just like all their fellow soldiers. His duties may be similar in that he inventories supplies, orders new supplies/parts. Or he might be training for a specific skill like polishing glass for gun scopes or something. I just made that up to use as an example.

Of course, duty on base would be vastly different from combat if they were to actually be activated to fight. I don't want to think about that.

Perhaps during the course of their week, they all attend classes or lectures or informational meetings or whatever. I don't know. That's just a guess. But somehow, information would need to be shared and continuing training would need to occur.

At the end of the day, they'd head back to their own barracks and enjoy their evening of free time. They'd get their phones for a short period of time. From what I understand, depending on their location, their wireless signal may not be reliable or strong.

Maybe they work out. If so, they do it together. They are accustomed to doing that so there's every reason to think they'd also work out together while enlisted.

They can decompress in the company of each other, relaxing, being themselves in the comfort of familiarity. They can talk about things that they accomplished, things they learned or situations they got embarrassed about.

They can make jokes with each other, poke fun at each other, commiserate, empathize, laugh, express frustration or joy with each other.

If they have enough moments of privacy, they can vent about assholes they had to deal with or they can hype the nice people they interacted with during their day.

Or they can just relax in the company of each other in silence and nothing else.

You know... all the things you do with the person you are most comfortable with... the person they wanted next to them sharing the ups and downs of this period of their lives. It works out wonderfully for them.

Then lights out and go to sleep and do it all over again the next day.

Anyway. I send up my thoughts every day that they are safe, healthy, eating well, and that their bodies and minds are strong. I am thankful they have each other. It is day 97 into their service. 451 days remaining. FIGHTING!

[megabuild]

hey megabuild can you elaborate on the complicated feelings re: bdubs apologizing to tango thing because I too have feelings about it that are complicated and i either need you to confirm I'm insane, confirm I'm not insane or make my insanity feel more enabled

(cracks my knuckles loudly and uncomfortably) the number one c!bdubs defender has logged on for another take hated by all

i think the most key thing to take away from this interaction is not that bdubs is being manipulative and dishonest but that it very clearly lays out the main issues with tuff guys' ability to function, that is, they all have different goals and ideals of what an alliance should function as, but also they have far too much baggage and history that they are all either unable to or unwilling to move on from.

looking at this conversation and taking it at face value- that is, bdubs went in with the intent to manipulate and lie, and then immediately caved when called out- is extremely uncharitable at best when similar behaviours from other players (such as scar) is often handwaved away as them playing the game correctly or exhibiting trauma responses. why these players are afforded such leniency while bdubs never is.. well, that's simply a mystery because i can't think of anything that immediately and obviously might set bdubs aside from the majority of his peers (hint: there is.). this coupled with the fact that bdubs has spent the first two sessions making genuine, if extremely flawed attempts at communication and problem-solving (see: horse discourse, which DID actually work though only after etho defused and approached it on his own terms, and the formation of tuff guys, which is an extremely flawed plot but also tackles the main issues at the core of the alliance- etho's commitment issues, tango's fear of betrayal, and bdubs' reputation) and i find it extremely difficult to believe that this conversation is entirely made up to gain some sort of leverage, because by saying that one must imply that retroactively both of those prior conversations were also probably in part manipulation- at which point we're painting bdubs as a multi-session plotting mastermind and that's just not who he is.

reading over the transcript there's a few key points that i think are really important-

bdubs comments that he's truly apologising, because he apologises in last life (poorly, but still) right after the matter, saying "he's sorry, but he had to". not in any way justifying his treatment of tango in last life, because moments before he also calls him fodder, but this gives us some insight into what bdubs is thinking- that is, it is likely he DOES feel genuinely bad about tango, or at least is able to acknowledge that they need to resolve their prior conflicts if they have any hope of succeeding. otherwise, there is little point in bringing such conflict to the forefront of tango's mind; that's manipulating him in the wrong direction by reminding him of his past traumas and giving him more ammo against bdubs. strategically i cannot understand why he would do this (outside of from a creator standpoint having more drama to mess with, because cc!bdubs is known for this, but if i get into the very murky territory between cc and c here it'll stretch everything out a million miles longer).

bdubs also barely gets a chance to defend himself after his initial apology is not accepted- tango is the one who builds up a "self reflection hole", both immediately dismiss it as manipulation (they are the first ones to suggest this, not bdubs!), and they pick on small tells such as him not having his head down and smiling as proof that he isn't genuine. indeed, when bdubs goes into the hole he asks them to come up with a plan since he won't be leading them, and tango openly laughs at them, signalling to Me that there was never any chance of genuine communication; tango has already made his mind up from the get-go that this is bdubs fucking with him and is unwilling to take it any further. (the phrase "i'm not going to perform my rock bottom for you for the sake of being believed" comes to mind.) it's only after this sentiment is echoed (more unsurely) by etho that bdubs gives up. at no point does bdubs add anything of his own to the conversation past this, he only agrees with what tango and etho are saying about him. with his attempt at communication having failed he defers to "yes and"-ing all the negative things they are saying about him. when bdubs has just spent most of secret life imo proving that he doesn't need to be dependent on others after being dismissed as such for multiple seasons, i think that immediate rejection of his independence and ability to stand up for himself must sting, a lot.

I know they're his teammates but jesus christ he could not have picked worse people to do this with. every character can be assumed to be extremely traumatised as is the nature of the game but etho and tango both have severe issues with communication and trust, both of which stem in part from bdubs' actions in last life (which again, i will defend him to the grave but that was fucking insane of him.) tango on the whole, however, is a character to me defined by his bitterness, especially in WL where he's acting out and being openly cruel to others (which given his previous experiences is honestly understandable). his immediate dismissal of bdubs is exactly what i would have expected of him given everything right now. meanwhile, etho is more cautious and unsure, only committing once he has tango's backing, because despite his issues with bdubs he has more reason to believe him (see: horse discourse once again) and also he's just extremely insecure. go girl.

little to say on this point but the bravado he exhibits after being dismissed also to me reads in line with other bdubs moments where he's putting on a show- he isn't gloating about pulling the wool over their eyes or laughing about how quickly he was found out, he's just.. bigging himself up for the sake of it? i don't know exactly how to word this point but i hope you understand.

tl:dr; i don't think bdubs is intentionally trying to manipulate people here, though i also don't think his timing and choice of apology was especially well-thought out; he's making a lot of attempts at genuine communication this season, for better or for worse, but it's coming from a place of recognising the necessity for it if he wants to get anywhere rather than a sign of genuine emotional growth. and while i wish they could have heard him out i do not fault etho or tango even for a second for assuming it was a ploy.

[genericpuff]

I've been seeing you say/speculate Rachel Smythe has been cut loose from webtoon, could you elaborate what you mean by that?

It's only a tinfoil hat theory that people should take with MOUNTAINS of salt (seriously, I'm more likely to believe that Rachel really is just done with LO), but there's a general suspicion that LO wasn't meant to end here and that Webtoons decided to cut the cord. I've made a post about it before but some new stuff has surfaced since then.

1.) The announcement the series was ending was made quietly at NYCC and not shared to either Webtoons' socials or Rachel's socials.

The only way fans initially knew about the series ending was through a screencap from the Discord where someone else who had been attending NYCC passed on the info from a Q&A that LO would be entering its final arc.

For a good while the only other way to know the series was ending was through the Discord, a Cosmopolitan article, and my own post.

Though it sounds odd for a series to get cancelled halfway through its third season, it's not uncommon for Webtoons to suddenly axe series while they're on their midseason hiatuses, it's happened before. So there's a general suspicion that Rachel may have found out during NYCC that LO would only be given one more arc.

2.) The actual finale announcement was made in a text post on Instagram that suddenly announced it would be ending on May 11th, despite the fact that there was still lots to wrap up in the story.

What this implies is that Rachel was given one more arc, with no concrete end date... until Webtoons told her to wrap it up in a limited number of episodes, hence why despite us knowing it was in its final arc, the end date still felt too soon. This is also supported by the fact that her initial announcement was vaguely "early/mid 2024" - she couldn't give a more accurate end date because she didn't plan for the actual ending.

3.) Things that Rachel has said implies that she was either hoping for the final arc to go on longer, or that she didn't think LO was going to be ending now.

(that "nothing is set in stone" quote further supports the theory that she may have been hoping to get renewed in spite of the lukewarm ending announcement - that the only reason the announcement was so quiet was because WT hadn't fully committed to it yet and wanted to see how the series would do upon its return; now that they see it falling behind to other series, it might mean WT became more sure in their decision to cut it and gave her an actual deadline to wrap it up by.)

4.) Webtoons has stopped promoting Lore Olympus despite it ending.

Any promotional spots that it has gotten have been stuffed into the dead zone of the banner reels (seriously, anything past the 3rd spot is practically useless because it takes actual committed scrolling to get there vs. the first 1-3 banner spots which can be seen as soon as you open the app/site) and the banner art itself does not in any way advertise the series being in its final arc. These banners also only seem to be appearing for a day at most, compared to the days upwards of weeks they used to get.

Webtoons also hasn't been doing any sort of promoting on their socials for it. Considering The Mafia Nanny has been consistently beating out LO in the top rankings for weeks now, and that LO's rating and view count is still dropping, it appears that Webtoons has finally given up on shoving it down people's throats and put their focus elsewhere.

Again, this is all tinfoil hat speculation, so take it with massive doses of salt. Considering this is Webtoons, I wouldn't be surprised if they finally decided to put LO out of its misery, but this is also Rachel and I wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she finally wanted to be done with it after the past two years of people clowning on it. And I say that knowing I, myself, am a clown LOL

Either way, I feel like either outcome is plausible in its own ways, but whatever is the true reason, it doesn't change the fact that LO is ending and has 3 episodes left to wrap itself up. And whatever comes after will likely involve the launch of Inklore which was estimated for the spring.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

grégoire's physical and personal traits as the experiment, 90173. if you are triggered by mentions of extreme weight loss, vomiting, and (potentially) eating disorders, i recommend you either avert your eyes or read with caution. also @fukounaboy since you were okay with me tagging you in this. here it is!!

90173, more commonly referred to as grégoire and, more rarely, 97390173, is the product of an experiment conducted by the amateur physician louis sanson. the experiment began on the first of march in 1885, a week after grégoire's thirteenth natural birthday. sanson would inflict physical and psychological torture on the boy in various forms (he called this "experimentation") in a pitiable attempt to recreate the actual grégoire sanson, the doctor's firstborn son, whose death he was not able to fully process.

during this time, grégoire's physical form deteriorated greatly. as sanson fed him very poorly - typically with poisoned or perished meals - his weight dropped from 178.8kgs to 153.1kgs in the first twelve months, weighing only 60.2kgs by sanson's arrest. (this caused him to lose consciousness often, and fall ill more easily.) this made him sickly, giving grégoire his current inhuman appearance. presently, his body is tall and emaciated; bruised, scarred, and covered in septic wounds. his hair, which sanson had cut off completely with medical scissors at the beginning of the experiment, now reaches past his shoulders and goes into his eyes. it has also darkened to a sort of black-brown color as the years went by. unfortunately, its thick and wavy texture has degraded to a wispy, straightened look, and the feel of it is dry and artificial. his face is asymmetrical, bloated, and deformed, with his cheekbones smashed in and his nose bent near the top as a result of sanson's surgeries. he also has an unseemly laceration near his right eye and is missing the tip of his left ear. his skin, once being of a warm ivory hue that freckled in the summer, is now poor in quality. it has developed a certain translucency, and grégoire's green veins permeate the surface of his skin in nauseating fashion.

after everything, grégoire has still retained his people-pleasing likeness, though behaves more skittishly in so. he wants to trust other people and seeks to act as though he does, but in his heart, he no longer feels he can. his trust issues manifest themselves mainly in the form of various phobias, such as the extreme fears of touch, being poisoned, and eating anything in general (haphephobia, toxiphobia, and cibophobia respectively). the latter two are due to switching constantly between starvation and eating (or being force-fed) his own vomit, which naturally gave him a poor relationship with food. on one hand, he is almost always insatiably hungry. on the other, the sight of food disgusts him and also often makes him sick. grégoire himself is now heavily emetophobic because of his experiences with it. he is also repulsed by the feeling of food in his body, but fears hunger all at once.

grégoire takes pleasure in silence, music boxes, lying motionlessly on the floor, warm weather, and watching others crochet. he fears hospitals, sharp objects, and anything reminiscent of his time as an experiment. he has essentially forgotten his life as jeannot, but despite how he wants to, he cannot forget being 90173. every time he looks into a mirror, he sees an unrecognizable corpse playing at a person, and is instantly reminded of everything his father did to him. even after all the hell sanson put him through, grégoire still believes that he will come back and love him one day.

and where is grégoire now? well, after being accidentally discovered in the dirt by a curious medical student in 2020 and found completely alive, he lives with them in an apartment located in créteil, val-de-marne, france. unbeknownst to grégoire, however, this student is studying him profoundly to this day, and hopes one day to make of him their new experiment.

here's a bit on grégoire. i wasn't sure what to make of this at first but. well. this is everything. putting under the cut because reasons.

90173, more commonly known as grégoire, is the product of a failed experiment created by the scientist louis sanson in val-de-marne, france. (for simplicity, this page will use the name grégoire and he/him pronouns in reference to the experiment going forth.)

grégoire was previously human, having been born jean-sébastien sanson on the twenty-second of february in 1872, and the oldest son of three. however, in 1885, grégoire was reported missing on his thirteenth birthday. to no-one else's knowledge, he had been abducted by someone claiming to be a family member. (this person was later revealed to be his father, louis-auguste-donatien sanson.) sanson then proceeded to try a number of unethical and illegal experiments on the boy, including the oral administration of various poisons, multiple vivisections, and experimental surgery. sanson's goal in this was to recreate his firstborn son, grégoire sanson, who had died at birth, in an attempt to see what "could have been". when grégoire did not comply, his actions would result in torture methods such as forced starvation and corporal punishment.

these experiments took place between 1885 and 1888. as a result, grégoire's body was severely disfigured; dirty, misshapen, emaciated, and barely holding itself together; translucent skin lavish with septic wounds and infected vivisection scars. thankfully, on the eighth of january of the latter year, sanson's laboratory was discovered inside of an abandoned hospital, leading to his death by guillotine on the next day. grégoire, who was presumed to be some sort of dead animal based on his physiognomy, was buried in the ground outside of the hospital. he stayed so for many years, expecting death, but it never came.

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to part five

Part six

Steve sits in the Beemer squeezing the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. He can't make himself let go.

He also can't seem to make himself leave.

His mate is in there. His mate who is carrying their pup. Steve's pup.

He can't leave.

It's a good ten minutes of Steve feeling like the world is collapsing in on him before the door swings open, and Wayne comes out, holding two beers. He opens the door and climbs in, sitting in the passenger seat, handing a beer to Steve, who takes it reflexively. He's pretty sure he doesn't actually want it. But Wayne chinks the necks of the bottles together in toast and says, "congratulations."

Steve starts laughing, it's a bit hysterical and it takes a few minutes before he can make himself stop. He does drink the beer.

"He told you?"

Wayne chuckles, "nah, of course he didn't. Clocked the positive test just sitting in the trash, but that boy hasn't thought more than thirty seconds ahead even one time in his life."

They sit in comfortable silence for a while before Steve admits, "I'm so angry with him."

"Think you've a right to that."

"I'm not leaving him."

"Didn't think you would."

They sit together, ten more minutes of silence between them before Steve admits, "I feel like he's stolen it from me...not the pup," Steve elaborates as Wayne raises an eyebrow at him, "the chance to do this properly. The chance to court him, mate him. Have a nice nest ready, a home together...and then pups. I still want it he's just...taken away my chance to do it all properly, I guess."

Wayne hums agreeably.

Steve sighs, "I should go in."

"Reckon." Wayne agrees stoically.

Steve had bought Eddie a spinning wool thing with a handle as a courting gift. Eddie had been so happy with it, something he wanted to organise all his balls of wool into...more square balls. Steve didn't understand it, but Eddie had been so happy he'd spent an hour playing with it and organising his small yarn collection while Steve watched, puffed up and proud his Omega was happy.

Eddie had smelled so much better since his heat, so much more like home and mate...and Steve just figured it was because Eddie was doing better.

Now he knows the real reason he's scenting so appealing; the pup.

Eddie hides deeper in his nest. Whatever that thing was that he lost when his Omega went to ground, well, it's been back since his heat. It's been back ten fold. Eddie had never nested in his life, now? Now if Hawkins held some sort of nesting championships, Eddie would have won it three times this week.

He knew, knew for certain before he bothered to piss on a stick that he'd caught. He knew it was early to show, but his usually almost concave stomach was...not that anymore. He was eating more, some instinct driving him. He was tidying the trailer; sorting things he'd never bothered or cared about before.

So he'd known. Known before those pink lines had appeared on the test.

And Steve. Steve who is courting the hell out of him. Steve who nuzzles him and scents him and brings him home made cookies and pasta and meatballs. Steve who buys him things and holds him close and, even though they haven't done anything more than kiss a little since Eddie's heat, is happy to run gentle hands across Eddie when they nap.

Steve who had innocently investigated that oh so subtle curve to Eddie's stomach. Steve who didn't even question that there was something there until he caught what must have been a horrified, guilty look on Eddie's face. Eddie who had stammered out an apology, like an idiot.

He should have just told him.

He should have come clean, right at the beginning. But Eddie was harbouring a guilty fantasy where he gets to keep his pup and Steve, and he wasn't quite ready to loose it just yet.

He hears the trailer door from where he's buried in his nest. He hears his bedroom door and opens his mouth to tell Wayne to go away, but it's Steve who speaks, "we will be talking about this in the morning."

And then the mattress dips, the blankets shift, and Eddie is pulled into Steve's arms, Steve's hand resting delicately over Eddie's belly button.

[fallinnflower]

01:01

mingyu x reader (fluff, hurt/comfort?, non-idol!au)

wc: 1.3k

a writing exercise i did with a friend using this prompt list and the prompts "when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say i was too sweet for my own good. maybe he was right." and "i'm the one you've been looking for."

a/n: thanks everyone for being patient with me, i'm still working on some big projects (vampire!DPR Ian and also vampire!BamBam [same universe], vampire!Jun, part 2 of river god!Wonpil, a Wonwoo fic based loosely on Kiki's Delivery Service... send help) in the works but wanted to post a little something <3

As soon as you get into your apartment's living room, you flop onto the couch on your stomach, paying no mind to the makeup you're probably smudging onto the throw pillow. Now just isn't the time. Future you can worry about cleaning it. 

Familiar footsteps follow you into the living room and a knee gently nudges the side of your stomach; you roll so your back is pressed against the back of the couch and Mingyu can lie down in the remaining space. He settles on his side, facing you with his hand propping up his head. His eyes glimmer slightly, and he gives you a wry smile,

"Well, happy anniversary," he says. You groan and look away from him, pressing your face into the couch cushions. He chuckles at your exaggerated reaction and gently reaches over to start undoing the elaborate updo you'd pinned your hair into. 

"What a night," he continues, pulling the bobby pins out one by one. You still refuse to look up, embarrassed and frustrated. 

It wasn't like it was anyone's fault, really, that all your evening plans had gone to total shit. First was the unexpected downpour that ruined your plans of a nice walk before dinner forcing you to frantically hail a cab while huddled under his expensive suit jacket. You'd already felt apologetic over that, and then your distracted cab driver missed a turn, which you thought was bad enough because you would be late for the reservation at this rate. 

But then it had to get worse (because of course it had to get worse) when the cabbie rear-ended another car because they were too busy yelling at someone on the phone. The two of you had to spend another two hours huddled under a shop awning, answering questions for the police officers that came to assess the scene. Thankfully, nobody was seriously hurt, but you still cried so much that everyone kept asking if you needed them to call paramedics. 

That was part of why you didn't want to look at Mingyu. No doubt your face was a mess, not to mention your hair, which he was now methodically freeing from the style you had spent so long on. 

You'd just wanted it to be perfect. You only have one first wedding anniversary, after all. To avoid crying more, you keep your face pressed into the cushions, not responding to your husband. More gently, then, he asks,

"Hey, you're sure you're okay, right?" You sniffle. Goddamnit. 

"Yeah," you croak. "I just… feel bad." Mingyu chuckles. 

"I know, but it isn't your fault," he reassures you. It should make you feel better, but it doesn't. You know Mingyu isn't bothered — this sort of thing doesn't faze him quite like it does you — but you still feel anxious and upset. Is this some kind of warning of impending doom in your relationship? Just the thought makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

You finally turn your face again so you can breathe more easily and find Mingyu smiling at you, concern still clear in his eyes. The couch cushion feels rough against your cheek, still a bit sensitive from all the crying and being out in the cold. 

"I think we have ramen," Mingyu says. "Should I make some? Are you hungry?" Your lower lip trembles as tears start welling up again, and this time you press your forehead into Mingyu's shoulder to hide your face. 

"How are you so calm?" you sputter. "How are you not— not upset?" 

"What, upset at you? You didn't do anything. And the driver didn't get away with being reckless, so I don't need to worry about that, either," he says calmly. When you only continue to sniffle pathetically, he changes his approach a bit,

"Or maybe I'm just too nice. I still remember when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say I was too sweet for my own good. Maybe he was right."

You let out an extremely undignified snort and lift your head to look at him. 

"As if. My dad never said anything like that," you tease. "Plus, 'all those years ago?' It's not like we met as kids or something. We met in college." Mingyu pouts at you, but his eyes glimmer playfully. 

"It sounds so much less romantic when you say that," he whines. 

"Well, you've always been the romantic one," you retort, but Mingyu is quick to counter you,

"No, no— I still remember that letter you wrote me when the semester was ending, when you said I was the one you'd been looking for—"

"Shut up!" you cry, placing your hands over his mouth. On top of everything else tonight, you don't want to be reminded of your embarrassing confession via love letter from years ago. You'd been a lovestruck student afraid you would lose your chance forever when you wrote that letter, and certainly hadn't expected that Mingyu had also been harboring a secret crush on you that would lead to marriage. It had been corny and sappy all because you thought you wouldn't see him again! Oh, how your actions had come back to haunt you. 

You can feel Mingyu smiling under your palms, and it only makes your face get hotter. Eventually, you remove your hands from his face and snuggle up closer to his chest, pressing your forehead into his shoulder again. 

"You're so annoying," you murmur, and you can feel the laughter reverberate through Mingyu's chest as he winds an arm around you. 

"But you still married me," he says. You smile. It still gives you butterflies, thinking of Mingyu as your husband, still so fresh a sensation. It's only been a year, after all. 

"Yeah," you reply. "I did."

Mingyu holds you for a few minutes, gently combing his fingers through your hair as you calm down. Eventually, he broaches the subject of dinner again, now that it's been hours since you were supposed to have eaten. 

"Do you want to shower while I make the ramen?" he asks, and you nod. Mingyu gets up off the couch as you sit up and stretch, noticing the lingering dampness in your hair and dress. A shower definitely sounds nice. You start making your way down the hallway, then turn back to face the living room. 

You watch as Mingyu attempts to straighten out his crumpled, damp button-down shirt, and smile to yourself. 

"Actually," you start, causing Mingyu to stop what he was doing and look up at you out of curiosity. "Do you… wanna join me? It's our anniversary, after all." You can feel your face warming up, but it's worth the slight embarrassment just to see the surprise on your husband's face. Sometimes he can seem so innocent. 

It only takes him a moment to snap out of it though, and cross the living room to meet you in the hallway with a broad grin. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you without hesitation.

"That sounds perfect," he says, practically purring, and you let out a surprised yelp when he suddenly scoops you up bridal style. You throw your arms around his neck and lean against him, giggling. As you look up into his face, all your irritation and upset from earlier melts away. Why should it matter if you went to a fancy restaurant or just ate ramen at home? All you want is to be together — that's why you got married. 

As Mingyu sets you down in the bathroom, you keep your arms looped around his neck and give him a kiss of your own. 

"Happy first anniversary, Gyu." He smiles that big, toothy grin you love so much, the one that makes him look like a happy puppy. 

"Happy anniversary, Y/N. The first of many."

It turns out to be a pretty good night, after all.

[torchlitinthedesert]

Kenneth Tynan and the Beatles

Shout out to @mmgth for noticing Beatle mentions in the letters of Kenneth Tynan - including working with John Lennon, Paul's 1960s reputation, and glimpses of the breakup. (Alas, no George or Ringo.)

Tynan was a drama critic and later worked with Laurence Olivier at Britain's National Theatre. Philip Norman calls him "the most rigorous cultural commentator of his age": he championed working class plays in the 1950s, supported progressive art (and was widely believed to be the first person to say "fuck" on British television). So he's an interesting perspective: well connected, arty, eager for cultural change, but from an older generation, and outside the immediate rock/pop world.

The first mention is 1966, when Tynan is already working at the National Theatre.

28 September 1966

Dear Mr McCartney,

Playing 'Eleanor Rigby' last night for about the 500th time, I decided to write and tell you how terribly sad I was to hear that you had decided not to do As You Like It for us. There are four or five tracks on 'Revolver' that are as memorable as any English songs of this century - and the maddening thing is that they are all in exactly the right mood for As You like It. Apart from 'E. Rigby' I am thinking particularly of 'For No One' and 'Here, There and Everywhere'. (Incidentally, 'Tomorrow Never Knows' is the best musical evocation of L.S.D. I have ever heard).

To come to the point: won't you reconsider? John Dexter [theatre director] doesn't know I'm writing this - it's pure impulse on the part of a fan. We don't need you as a gimmick because we don't need publicity: we need you simply because you are the best composer of that kind of song in England. If Purcell were alive, we would probably ask him, but it would be a close thing. Anyway, forgive me for being a pest, but do please think it over."

Paul replied that he couldn't do the music because, hilariously, "I don't really like words by Shakespeare" - he sat waiting for a "clear light" but nothing happened. He ended, "Maybe I could write the National Theatre Stomp sometime! Or the ballad of Larry O."

It's interesting that Tynan approaches Paul individually - because they had theatre connections in common? Or did Tynan assume that John wrote the words and Paul the music, so Paul's the guy to ask for settings of Shakespeare lyrics? (Though he does correctly identify Paul songs in his letter, plus the musical setting of Tomorrow Never Knows, so he might just be asking because he's a Paul girl. He also wants Paul to know that he's cool and hip and has done acid.)

Tynan definitely is a Paul girl. On 7 November that year, he pitched possible articles (I think for Playboy). He offers articles on the War Crimes Tribunal (set up by Bertrand Russell on the US in Vietnam), an interview with Marlene Dietrich, or:

"Interview with Paul McCartney - to me, by far the most interesting of the Beatles, and certainly the musical genius of the group."

It's a reminder of how drastically Paul's reputation changed, between cultural commentators of the 1960s and post-breakup.

Tynan didn't get his Paul interview, but he worked twice with John.

On 5 February 1968, he's sorting out practical details for the National Theatre's company manager about about the stage adapation of John's book In His Own Write (which had already had a preview performance in 1967). It's a very Beatle-y affair:

Victor Spinetti and John Lennon will need the services of George Martin, the Beatles A & R man to prepare a sound tape to accompany the Lennon play. Martin did this tape as a favour for the Sunday night production, but something more elaborate will be required when the show enters the rep, and I feel he should be approached on a professional basis as Sound Consultant, or some similar title. I have written to him to find out if he is ready to help and will let you know as soon as he replies.

...John Lennon says that as far as his own contract is concerned, we should deal directly with him at NEMS rather than his publisher.

So John prefers to work within the Beatle structure: George Martin, Victor Spinetti, plus NEMS, rather than pursuing closer ties with his book publisher.

On 16 April 1968, Tynan writes to John about his ideas for a wanking sketch.

Dear John L,

Welcome back. You know that idea of yours for my erotic revue - the masturbation contest? Could you possibly be bothered to jot it down on paper? I am trying to get the whole script in written form as soon as possible.

John's reply is very John:

"you know the idea, four fellows wanking - giving each other images - descriptions - it should be ad-libbed anyway - they should even really wank which would be great..."

Oh John.

Tynan still wanted to interview Paul - and was noticing changes in Beatle dynamics. On 3 September 1968, Tynan pitched another feature on Paul, this time for the New Yorker:

In addition to pieces on theatre, I'd love to try my hand at a profile (I remember long ago we vaguely discussed Paul McCartney though John Lennon is rather more accessible)...

Accessible because Tynan had already worked with him, or because John was already flexing his PR muscles? The New Yorker was interested, because Tynan follows up on 14 October 1968:

4. A few days in the life of Paul McCartney (which we agreed should come at the end of the series of articles, because of the current overexposure of the Beatles.)

Why does he see the Beatles as "overexposed" in autumn 1968, when he hadn't in 1966? Was it the Apple launch? The JohnandYoko press campaign? The cumulative impact of a lot of Beatle news?

Tynan was still trying on 17 September 1969:

...I'd like to go on to either Mr Pinter [playwright Harold Pinter] or Paul McCartney... I incline towards McCartney who has isolated himself more and more in the past from the other Beatles and indeed from the public: he seems to have reached an impasse that might be worth exploring. On the other hand Pinter is a much closer friend and would be more accessible to intimate scrutiny."

I'm fascinated by this - that Paul's isolation was visible to those outside the Beatles circle (the letter is dated three days before the meeting of 20 September 1969, where John said he wanted a divorce).

But Tynan was right about Paul being inaccessible. On 5 January 1970:

I'm saddened to have to tell you that Paul McCartney doesn't want to be written about at the moment - at least, not by me. I gather that for some time now the Beatles have been moving more and more in separate directions. Paul went to a recording session for a new single last Sunday which was apparently the first Beatles activity in which he'd engaged for nearly nine months. He doesn't know quite where his future lies, and above all he doesn't want to be under observation while he decides.

So while Paul "doesn't want to be under observation", he's surprisingly open about the breakup - less blunt than "the Beatle thing is over", which he told Life in November 1969, but still frank.

Trying to persuade Paul to open up to "intimate scrutiny" in 1969 does suggest another reason why 1970s interviewers adored John. Tynan works for an older, more established press, but he's offering the kind of profile John would make his own - discussing his inner life and personal/artistic conflicts with cultural commentator who respects him as an artist. And Paul can't run away fast enough. As a journalist, you'd absolutely go for the guy who makes himself accessible and is eager to bare his soul, over Mr Doesn't Want To Be Written About At The Moment.

[aurae-rori]

Okay. So no pressure if you don't want to, but can you elaborate more on your headcannoning[?] Ratio having a savior complex? Your character analysis are really good so I was just wondering how you see this.

no worries, it's absolutely no pressure - i love talking about this! and thank you so much, i'm so glad that you enjoy my stuff, so let's get right into it.

a saviour complex is defined as "an attitude and demeanour in which a person believes they are responsible for assisting other people." this doesn't mean that people with saviour complexes are necessarily stuck up and believe that they are noble for doing what they do, it just means that they feel like they must help other people. it can stem from feelings like "if i can't, nobody can!" or, alternatively, "i have no worth if i don't help people, this is what i'm meant to do." in helping other people at the expense of the self, it can help the person with the complex feel valued, wanted, loved, and as if they have a purpose.

as someone who does have a saviour complex (and is working on it in therapy, so i'm doing fine - it's much better than it used to be), i can say in past experiences, this has led me to become a sort of mentor figure to other people in my life. although i will never regret becoming an older sibling figure for the people i care about, the reason why i became a "teacher" was rooted in both my own desire to help other people, and also in my need to be validated.

so basically, it all comes down to this - if i don't help other people, i have no value, so therefore, i am useless. this can quickly spiral into suicidal tendencies and should be stopped as soon as possible, but that's a different topic.

the reason why i hc ratio with a saviour complex is because i see a lot of my own behaviours in him. he became an educator to push people to their limits but also because he cares about humanity. being a teacher means bearing responsibility - the same responsibility that someone with a saviour complex will put on themselves. a person with a saviour complex will always place the needs of others over themselves, (choosing humanity over the gaze of an aeon). he seems to also be a perfectionist and berates himself for being unable to meet a standard (which can also reflect into relationships, where a person with a saviour complex will beat themselves up for being unable to help the person they were attempting to 'save'.)

upon failure of being able to help someone or solve their problems, i find that usually what i've seen is that people fall into spirals of depression and self-deprecation, blaming themselves for the issues of others. we don't know how dr ratio canonically feels about failing about 97% of his classes even though he calls them idiots, but he seems to genuinely care about his students and their education. so i like to believe that on some level, just like i used to, he blames himself when people cannot progress. that's not canon though. just a hc.

anyway, taking on massive amounts of responsibility (trying to cure the entire universe of idiocy) and attempting to further help other people through any means possible, even to the point of neglecting yourself (and although ratio says that a relaxation-working life must be balanced, i used to be a hypocrite about that so he can be a hypocrite about it too) and pushing yourself far past what you must.

anyway, i hope this clears up why i hc him with a saviour complex (from someone that unfortunately has one).

i also ask that people don't say 'are you okay?' if you read this post, because i am! you are absolutely allowed to ask me about my experience as a person who has a saviour complex (as long as you're not rude about it) and i will definitely drop more specific hcs about saviour complex ratio if you want to see more.

hope this was worded okay! :)

[yallthemwitches]

“Can I… can I touch you?”

And maybe as a sequel to study session?

Hello Anon! Yes! I'm glad you asked for a sequel for this one because that was one of my favorite kinktobers to write! Perhaps that's why I (once again) went in expecting a micro fic but ended with 3k words...

I feel like I write too much crazy, frantic jily so it was nice to have a sweet but sexy moment. (it's still smut after all)

Here's the link to Study Session, though you don't need to read it before this one!

Read under the cut or AO3 here!

“Do you have anything between third and fourth period?”

She had said it as a joke—-well, sort of, but either way she had underestimated the hope a teenage boy could gather from such an offer.

When she enters the common room he is facing the door, wringing his hands nervously. His hair is still wild from their stint in the library, and she tries not to note that his tie has also remained in a similar state of dishevelment, clearly having been tugged in a manner that school regulations don’t allow. 

“Er, hi.”

He jumps out of his seat and walks towards her, almost sheepish in his movements. His eyes are unable to stop flickering to her lips then downwards, evident that their earlier moment together is still fresh in his mind. 

“You said something about meeting again…after third.” 

The sheepish tone of his voice creates a stir in her chest accompanied by a burning heat traveling downwards. James Potter, quidditch hero, most popular boy in school, did not only want her but was absolutely powerless because of it. 

“If—if you were just having a laugh about that then I’ll just..”

“No, I wasn’t.” She stutters, “...I wasn’t having a laugh—I mean.” It bubbles out and her face flushes red. So much for keeping an upperhand.

 James’ eyes grow wide and bright, his typical crooked smile starting to tug at his lips. 

“Yeah?” 

She could practically hear his confidence growing, his ego reentering his body.

 “Well, all the lads will be out for the next two hours besides Peter, but I —“

“--You told him to shove off,” she finishes for him, the heat from earlier that day now back and pooling heavy between her legs. He doesn’t need to elaborate on where he was referring to, the stairs to the boys dorm practically pulsing from the corner of her eye. 

If she hadn’t intended to sit on his lap back in the library, there is no mistake of intention now. James nods, rare blotches of red appearing under his rims and Lily has to work hard to not think about how the last time she saw his cheeks in such a way, he was grinding an orgasm out of her with just his leg. 

“So— should we...” His eyes flicker to the stairs, an air of excitement and impatience setting in on his features. “I mean, again– if you want to.”

She takes a step closer, arms aching from staying next to her sides and not sliding back in their now familiar spot around his neck.

“Lead the way.”

~ ~ ~

The boys’ dorm is just about how she imagined it, a clutter of books, quidditch supplies and various contraband. Any other time she might have tried to take a closer look, but she doesn’t get far enough in the door before James rounds on her with newfound confidence. Suddenly, something warm and heavy wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against him. 

“You are just lovely.” He cups her face, stepping close enough so her legs part to make way for him to slot himself against her. 

“I can’t stop thinking about earlier—how you smell, how soft your lips are, the feel of you against me…” 

He sidles them over so her back touches the door and his hand juts out until she hears the click of the lock sliding into place. 

“I still feel like I’m dreaming— like this can’t be real. I must be suffering from potion fumes….laying in the hospital wing, hallucinating—-“

She pulls up, slanting their lips together. He sighs an oh into her mouth, his breath hot and sweet. They are sweet probing kisses, not like the ones in the library where the urgency to simply be together was unbearable.

“Stop talking Potter.” 

He laughs, mouth recapturing hers, drawing her even closer. With privacy the gift of time is palpable, allowing them to move out of the realm of fever dreams and into reality.  She feels his hands wrap tighter around her, finding her arse and giving a small squeeze, pushing a smile into her lips. 

Hands find nests in each other's hair. Tongues move like silk contrasting with the hard, playful nips they exchange to lower lips. She savors each small sound he makes into her, all a perfect bundle of adoring and awe.

Unsurprising, he can’t stay quiet for long. “Lily—I’m so…” but the words get stuck in his throat, her attention going towards something hard beginning to press into her thigh. Experimentally, she shifts against it and he makes a low humming sound, the hand resting on her arse tensing up and waving her forward to repeat the motion. Another hand curls around and dances along the hemline of her shirt, tickling the spot of midriff starting to show. 

“James–” she breathes out, holding onto him for support as he kisses his way to the sensitive place behind her ear. “I want you–.” 

At the confession his hands contract and his lips become more frantic, trading light butterfly kisses for open mouthed ministrations. It makes finishing her thought almost not worth it. 

“--I want you, but I’d also like to enter the room first..” He pulls back and gives another genuine laugh, one that makes her burst with pride. Reaching up on her toes, she can’t help but place a kiss where his neck is exposed from his outburst and the feel of her lips snaps him back into gear, turning her in his arms and waddling them forward towards the bed across the room. His erection strains against her arse as they move, each step a little zing of pleasure. 

“How rude of me,” he whispers against her ear. They stop in front of the bed and he turns her back to face him, eyes clouded as though sleepwalking. “Welcome to my bed.”

His Bed. It’s almost humorous how one single noun is capable of making her heart beat out of her rib cage. How many times has she imagined what he does in this bed? How many times has he thought of her?

He sits on the edge and pulls her down onto his lap. It’s all too similar from that morning—the way her hands circle his neck, how her body positions in a way that even the slightest movement creates friction between her center and his ever present erection. Settling in, they both let out a moan of relief, both evidently yearning for the same thing since the last couple of hours. 

“I’m absolutely mad for you Evans,” he murmurs and she wastes no time pushing their mouths together again, a sailing feeling in her chest taking over. She puts a hand to the front of his shirt, edging it under to find the hot skin of his abdomen and he sighs a soft gentle sound that she immediately wants to hear again. 

“That’s funny because I’m absolutely mad for you too.”

The look in his eye changes from hazy to dark to purely euphoric, responding with a deep kiss. She shifts over him until she is back straddling his waist, legs curling around his waist until she can feel the familiar brush of him against the spot she yearns to be touched most. 

“Can I take this off?” A hand stalls at a button of his shirt while the other has already begun wandering the length of his chest underneath, hungry to feel what she already knew about his stature. In response, he unlatches his hands from around her to unbutton it, shucking it off with his tie in one movement. 

Christ.

She pulls back to get a better look at him, unabashedly darting her gaze from his abs to his toned shoulders.  She had seen him shirtless before during quidditch, the vision of him pumping his fist in the air in victory after a match easily being a replaying image in her mind, but never this close, never touchable.

“You’re fit–” she murmurs, catching the burning look of a stroked ego in his eyes. She doesn’t let herself think about her next move, moving her hands to her own blouse and unbuttoning down the front. A quiet fuck escapes his lips when her shirt finally flaps open, exposing her bare breasts to him and the cold dormroom air. His eyes roam her chest, a haggard breath coming from his open mouth.

“Merlin…”

She has the immediate desire to cover up, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. His hand remains modest on her waist, clearly frozen from shock. 

“I—I don’t wear a bra,” she says deadpan, wanting to fill the silence. A grin breaks out on his face, eyes sparkling. 

“And I thank Merlin for it everyday.”

Her cheeks blaze and now she does cover up, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“What do you mean?”

James cocks his head, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Evans, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think there’s a bloke in this castle over the third year that hasn’t noticed.”

She turns her head, trying to mask obvious embarrassment. It isn’t like she's not aware either, but to hear it from him, make it too unbearable to think about. Sensing her shift in mood, he cups her chin and pulls her head back to look at him, eyes now soft. 

“No, don’t hide yourself. You have no idea—no idea how much I’ve even tried to imagine you like this.”

He places a hand on one of her crossed arms and she slowly lowers them. She watches as he licks his lips, eyes growing wild again at the sight of her. 

“--And apparently my imagination is rubbish because—because, I mean fuck.”

He inches a hand up from her stomach towards one of her breasts, eyes flickering between watching her expression and the path to the newly exposed skin. Stopping just underneath, he leans in and gives her a soft kiss, begging for permission.

Taking his hand, she finishes his path for him, her hard tit pressing into his warm, enveloping palm. He sucks in a breath, eyes becoming heavy lidded as his fingers curl around her soft skin. 

“Just unbelievable…”

She grins, tugging lightly at the strands of hair at the back of his head.

“What?”

“How absolutely perfect you are.”

Her body surges with pure adoration. She hinges forward, pressing the bare skin of their chests together until he is falling back onto the bed, taking her down with him. They scramble with laughter for a moment, situating themselves properly so she hovers over his laying form. A hand traces the muscles of his abdomen down to his waistband, fingering at the fabric before continuing downwards to the tent of his pants. Lifting her hips up, she presses a hand against his erection, smoothing her thumb around the outline of him beneath the fabric. 

“Is this alright?” She asks, knowing the answer just by the look on his face. She makes another hesitant pass with her thumb and a shallow moan escapes his lips, head starting to fall back. 

“It’s incredible. Please, don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. Leaning forward to kiss her way back up to him, he shuffles himself lower so he can take one of her tits into his mouth, his tongue swirling hot circles around the hardened peak. The sensation makes her hips rut automatically, pressing downwards into where her hand continues to touch him through his pants. 

An arm wraps around her and before she can dissent, he flips them. Her skirt has already bunched up to her waist, exposing a pair of plain black knickers that catch his attention immediately. Eyes roaming around the bottom half of her body. 

“Lily—can I touch you?” He asks softly. 

“You’re already touching me.” She responds, teasing, but he is too far gone for games, eyes dark and glassy with pure want. 

“No–I mean, here.”

His hand moves to rest just above her pubic bone, fingers angling down towards her center. All amusement falls from her, replaced with a thrashing need to feel him touch just inches lower from where they lay. 

Breath catches in her chest. Suddenly it feels like they are moving in water, slow and steady against each other. She takes his hand and wills it downwards, his fingertips skirting over the fabric of her knickers as they round down in between her thighs. He takes a sharp inhale when he reaches what she already knows: her knickers are completely soaked through. 

“Godric help me.”

He moves to press harder into the fabric, but she holds his hand hovering, just barely away from her center. She reaches between them with her other hand, finding his waistband and tugging. 

“Take these off.”

His eyes grow impossibly wider, tearing his gaze between where his hand is being held and to her face. 

“ I will…in a moment, first I want to–” 

Her grip on his hand tightens and her cheeks blaze. 

“No. I want to touch you too.”

He needs no more convincing. He undoes his pants and she pulls at his waistband, deliberately taking his underpants with them. Upon seeing him fully nude, her jaw slackens. She had seen men naked before, been touched and pleasured to various degrees in the past couple of years, but nothing prepared her for him. Months of sneaking glances, watching how lithe his body moved during quidditch, dreaming about how his body could possibly feel moving inside hers did not even get close to the way he looked now. 

“Lily–if you don’t want to keep going…” He stutters out. Coming out of her trance, she realizes that she had been staring for too long, swept away by the sheer reality of him. 

“C’mere, please.”

He shifts back over her and the feel of his tip slightly wet against her hip makes her surge with giddiness. His hand goes back between her legs, a finger experimenting with pressing down and drawing small circles into the damp area. In turn, she reaches down and takes him with a loose fist, palm sliding easily up and down soft flesh. 

They exchange soft, whimpering sounds, hips pushing to meet hands, open mouths molding together to catch each other’s moans. 

“James–” She lifts her hips and tugs down at her knickers, letting them slip down and off her legs. 

“Absolutely beautiful–” he gasps, watching his finger sink into her. Her body squeezes around him, zapping her with pleasure with every twist and flex of his fingers. The pumping of her hand speeds up, giving more attention to smear some of his precome around his crown. His head collapses down, forehead pressed against hers, moaning deeper with every turn of a hand. 

“I want you inside me,” she whispers, then repeats again. His hand stills, eyes pulling up to look at her with a delirious wonder. 

“Lily—”

“Please, I need you. Unless…unless you don’t…” 

A chaotic laugh explodes from his mouth, doubling him over. He kisses her, his tongue pressing her mouth open so he can speak directly into her. 

“I have never wanted anything more in my entire life.”

Her heart swells. She hitches a leg up, opening herself up wider for him to sidle down against her. He takes hold of his cock, smearing his tip into her folds before finding her entrance and pressing lightly so just the smallest bit of his crown stretches into her. 

“Holy fucking merlin–,” he groans, watching his cock sink further into her, “you feel so good, so tight.”

The way he feels inside of her is unparalleled. His movements are slow and gentle, adorations pouring out of his mouth against her neck, her chest, her cheeks—anywhere he can press kisses while he dips in and out of her, filling her up. 

The heat in her stomach mounts, pooling with adoration and pleasure and something that frighteningly feels already, impossibly, like love. He checks in on her, taking her face with his hand and looking into her eyes, searching and finding just as much happiness and desire as she sees staring back.

“Just like that, love—” he urges her on, helping her hips grind up against him while his thumb teases her clit with tiny circles. 

It feels like she is mounting a steep mountain, almost to the peak where her pleasure surges in a great big orb. He must feel it too because his adorations turn into coaxes, pressing her towards release. 

“That’s it–Oh, Lily I can feel it. I can feel you’re close. Fuck—come for me. Let me feel you come—”

Something inside her snaps and everything disappears besides the soft kisses James presses into her skin and the feel of him still moving inside her. Her whole body clenches and relaxes, an ecstatic pleasure flooding all the way to her toes. His voice breaks through the haze, thin and straining.

“Baby, you feel so good, so impossibly wet—can I—”

She grabs into his hair, pulling him down for a searing kiss. 

“Come inside me, it’s ok. I want to feel you too.” 

He gasps, letting go. A warm sensation fills her and trickles down her thighs, him making his final few thrusts before slowing to a halt and drooping over her. He remains inside of her while their heartbeats slow in tandem, his slowing breath tickling the side of her neck.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers after a few moments pass. A thumb passes over her cheek to move a stray piece of hair. 

She hesitates, before answering. “I’m thinking about how I don’t want this to end.”

He presses a kiss into her neck and she wraps her arms around him, holding them together as though the moment he gets up they will be back to being just “Potter and Evans:” two friends who laugh and talk but nothing more. 

“Then we won’t let it end,” he murmurs. She opens her eyes to find his staring back, something shining behind the irises. 

It’s consuming—the sensation he creates within her. Even as just mates and study partners she feels it: the desire to take him within herself and keep him there forever. To experience every single thing with him,good or bad, because anything with him by her side seems bearable and worth it. 

“Go out with me.”

He chuckles, hearing the words he has thrown at her for years being finally sent back like karma. His face bursts with pure unfiltered joy and he swoops down to press his lips to hers, his happiness contagious. 

“Gladly—anything you want, Evans.” He says between kisses. Still inside her, she can feel him start to harden again, impossibly rebounding by the force of sheer elation alone. 

“Ah—James.”

He kisses his way down to her chest, a smile still caked onto his face as she squirms under him, the slick feel of him moving again inside her gaining momentum. It’s impossible for her not to smile too and the feeling from before reappears: not just pleasure, but perhaps already love. It explodes from her and she giggles, just as ready as he is to tangle together again. 

“But I have to warn you,” he says, eyes glinting as he presses their foreheads back together, “I don’t think I’m ever going to want us to leave this bed. Not for Hogsmeade, not for the world.”

[glass-noodle]

What would a role reversed merman AU scenario be like? And most impotant, what kind of fish species would Hank be? (Not meant as a drawing request or super elaborate essay or anything, I just love reading your ideas ✨️)

I know you said this isn't a drawing/essay request but HOW COULD I RESIST!!!

I am not a fish expert but I like to think of Hank being either a dwarf gourami (for that good ol' in-game symbolism hehe) or a tiger shark, because stripes and big teeth and bad temper. Or maybe he could be some sort of tropical fish that's super vibrant and colourful, yet also deadly (poisonous fin spikes?). Marine biologists please weigh in!!!

Some half-formed unofficial notes:

Hank is more outwardly aggressive towards Kamski and the scientists in comparison to Connor’s cold-shoulder approach. They went through their entire tranquilizer supply in the first few months just to get a handle on the roaring, thrashing beast of a merman, and he’s caused more than a few major injuries amongst their team. Just like Connor, he bares his teeth and resists every time they come to take him for experiments; they have to sedate him from a greater distance and with a much heavier dose than they use for Connor, however.

Hank is a little less malnourished than Connor, but only because he doesn't refuse to eat. He's still thinner and weaker than he would be normally

Connor works the night shift. Not sure if it’s because he has another job during the daytime or if he’s going to school, but either way he manages to catch up on sleep during his breaks. He sacrifices this sleep once he and Hank start growing closer, however.

Hank takes much longer to warm up to Connor than the reverse. He snarls and snaps his teeth whenever Connor gets too close; it takes weeks for Connor to be able to approach the edge of the tank. He has to leave the fresh fish on the deck and back away before Hank will even look at it, ice-blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Connor is a bit more hesitant to get close to Hank, but that's only because he's always taken his job seriously and he doesn't like breaking the rules. He can't help but stare in awe whenever the large merman swims by, however, vibrant fins flashing and his muscled body cutting powerfully through the water. It's only when Connor starts noticing the scientists taking Hank away - and his glimpses of Hank's violent resistance - that his curiosity and empathy override his sense of obedience and his desire to make a good first impression.

Because Hank doesn't talk, Connor is given even more of an opportunity than usual to run his mouth. He blabbers away, asking question after question as if Hank could answer, sometimes philosophizing and sometimes talking about nothing at all. Hank tries to tune him out as he eats, but the human is annoyingly persistent. Eventually he grows used to the babble, but only after he starts begrudgingly warming up to the kid.

Because Connor talks so damn much, it's alarming when he goes quiet. Hank initiates contact for the first time by taking off his glasses when he has his breakdown. It's the first time Hank has ever been so close to him.

I think that Hank would still have lost Cole when he was a baby mer; possibly to humans and their trapping practices, giving him even more of a reason to hate them. I'm torn on what Connor's backstory should be, though. Perhaps he lost Nines (to an ocean storm?)? Or maybe it’s post-fight with Amanda and he’s feeling directionless in life, suffocating under the weight of his family’s expectations and feeling like he’s a burden and a disappointment despite everything that he’s achieved? Maybe it’s just a good ol’ panic attack because I love forcing anxiety onto human!Connor (no I’m not projecting what do u mean)

Hank's power and girth take on a whole new light after they’ve grown close. Connor is more distracted during their time together, his stream of chatter faltering uncharacteristically whenever Hank shifts a certain way or rips into a fish easily with his powerful jaws. He swallows when he imagines the full strength of the merman pressing him down against the deck, of Hank dragging him into the water and grazing those razor-sharp teeth along his skin, tail wrapped around his body like a serpent and trapping him in place.

Hank could hold the skinny human down with one hand. He knows he could. He imagines wide dark eyes staring up at him, skin flushed prettily and neat brown hair dripping, wordless for once in his life, and nearly loses his self-control. If they were both mermen, he'd be courting the kid to the ends of the ocean. Or...maybe Connor would be the one wooing him. He's certainly brought him enough fish and stared at his chest and arms enough that any merperson worth their salt would consider it mate-like behaviour. It's a weird cognitive dissonance to be feeling this way about a human, but Connor is — Connor is different. Hank likes Connor; he likes him so much that it's stupid.

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

I usually write and post Undertale fanfiction on a different account, but I kept seeing those time-travel The Hobbit fics and I really liked the premise, so I wrote a small bit of one. I have no idea what else to do with it, soooooo here have the random fic I wrote at like 1 AM.

(Quick disclaimer, I'm not actually super well-versed in Middle-Earth lore. I've read and loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but I haven't gotten around to reading The Silmarillion or anything yet. I probably got some stuff wrong in terms of lore, so sorry about that. This was written for fun and I'm not planning on making it into a longer fic, but I thought I'd share it because why not.)

Bilbo was dead.

He knew he was dead. He had died in the Undying Lands, finally succumbing to the age of his body, surrounded by Frodo and Gandalf and the elves as he drifted off into his very last adventure. He had lived a long life. A good life. One with regrets, of course, but also one with much joy and love.

Hobbit-lore had never said much about their afterlife - not like the lore of elves, dwarves, or even men - but Bilbo had always supposed it would be something like this, the comfort of home. For he had found himself back in his hobbit-hole, back in Bag-End, seated at his table with a lovely-looking tea spread out before him.

His aches, his weariness, were gone. His joints and back moved easily, without any pain to speak of. His eyesight was perfectly clear. Even his bald patches had vanished, his head and feet covered once again in thick bushes of curly hair.

"Why, I don't feel a day over fifty," he marvelled under his breath, grinning a little.

Leaving his food on the table, he explored his home, running his fingers along the backs of chairs and rifling through drawers. Most things were exactly as he remembered it - better, even for he had not seen his silver spoons for decades, yet there they were, sitting neatly with the rest of his cutlery. The only objects unaccounted for were the things from his adventure; Sting, the coat of mithril, the chests of gold and silver, and the ring (he caught himself a moment before thinking 'his ring'). But he had given Sting and the coat to Frodo anyway, the ring had been destroyed, and he didn't suppose he would need gold or silver in the afterlife, so he paid it no mind.

He had just sat back down to his tea when the doorbell rang. He was not expecting visitors, of course, as he had only just gotten to this hobbitish afterlife, but he was not nearly as fussy about that sort of thing as he had once been, so he got to his feet and went to greet his guest.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been a dwarf, and it most certainly hadn't been a very familiar dwarf with a long beard and a dark green hood, worn and stained from travel, his bright eyes glittering from beneath its hem.

The dwarf hopped inside as soon as the door was open, hanging his hooded cloak on one of the pegs, then sweeping into a low bow. "Dwalin at your service!"

Bilbo was frozen, one hand still on the polished brass doorknob, staring at his old friend, who now looked decades younger and was wearing the same clothes he had been the first time they had met.

"Dwalin?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" Even if the dwarf was dead too, he surely wouldn't be here, wherever here was.

Dwalin frowned slightly. "I am here for the meeting, of course."

"Meeting?" he echoed, mystified.

"Yes, the meeting." Dwalin gave him an odd look, as if he should have already known. "And, er, whose service do I have the pleasure of being at?"

Bilbo blinked. "What?"

"Your name," Dwalin elaborated.

After a moment of mutually puzzled silence, Bilbo took a closer look at Dwalin. The clothes. The appearance. The expression, politely confused. Asking for his name.

I don't feel a day over fifty.

He swallowed. "I - Bilbo." Slowly, he bowed. "Mister Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He straightened, gesturing to the hall behind him. "I, uh - I just set out tea. Please, help yourself."

Dwalin nodded, bustling off down the hall. Bilbo did not follow him, but sat down on the ornamental chair by all the hooks and put his head in his hands. This... wasn't possible, was it? He couldn't be back then. He had died, for goodness' sake.

Before he could get very far with his thoughts, the bell rang again. He sprang up, nearly wrenching the door open to reveal an old, red-hooded dwarf, who immediately hopped inside.

"I see they have begun to arrive already," he noted as he hung his hood next to Dwalin's. He then bowed, giving Bilbo an entirely unnecessary introduction.

"Balin, at your service!"

"Bilbo Baggins at yours," Bilbo replied, bowing in return. "Dwalin is inside - please, go join him, I'll bring out more tea. Unless you would prefer a little beer?" he added, remembering his old friend's preferences.

Balin smiled. "Yes, and some seed-cake, if you have any."

"Yes, lots."

Balin set off down the hall to join his brother, and Bilbo went to the pantry to collect the beer and seed-cakes.

Well, that settles it, he thought, a tad grimly. I am back at the very beginning of it all. He wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the prospect, given that he knew what lay ahead, but he resolved to do his very best with this second chance. To make their journey better with his knowledge. Maybe he could even save...

He shook his head and quickly delivered Balin's food and drink, right before the bell rang a third time and he had to rush back to the door.

It was Fili and Kili this time, and Bilbo's heart started aching when he saw them, young and whole and alive, their yellow beards clean of blood and grime, their eyes sparkling and clear.

"Kili at your service!"

"And Fili!"

He took their hoods and bags, setting them carefully to the side, and bowed back, fighting the urge to pull them both into a hug. Somehow, he managed to speak past the lump in his throat. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's."

"Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili cheerfully. "Let us join the throng!"

Bilbo nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. He very firmly set aside his grief, his questions, his racing thoughts, and fixed his mind on the task at hand - namely, preparing enough food, drink, and chairs to host a company of fifteen.

While the four dwarves settled in and got to talking, he hurriedly set out more places at the table, then started raiding his pantry, bringing out everything from the wine to the cheese wheels. Halfway through, the bell rang again, and he practically sprinted to the door - in fact, he got there fast enough that Gloin had only just come puffing up to the doorstep.

Introductions were short, and the five newcomers soon joined the others at the table while Bilbo went back to emptying his pantries before they could do it themselves.

He had almost finished when a loud rapping echoed down the hall, the knock of wood against wood. Bilbo sighed heavily, thinking mournfully of the dent in his nice green door that he had never quite gotten around to fixing, and, whisking one last plate of food onto the table, set off to let his guests inside for the fifth and final time that night.

He made sure to open the door very slowly and carefully, so as not to repeat his mistake from all those years ago and end up with a pile of dwarves on his doormat. This time, all four of them hopped inside without incident, and Gandalf ducked through the doorway a moment later.

"Hello, Bilbo," he greeted with a smile. "I hope you do not mind terribly that I brought guests to our tea."

Bilbo sighed again, casting a glance in the direction of his depleted pantries. "Not at all, Gandalf."

"Excellent!" The wizard clapped his hands. "Now, allow me to introduce you to Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"

There were the usual bows and "At your service"s from Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and none at all from Thorin, not that Bilbo had expected any. He gave all four of them a deep bow in return.

"Bilbo Baggins." He glanced up, meeting Thorin's proud gaze and ignoring the pang of grief, an old, old pain that had never really gone away. "At your service."

Thorin merely turned to toss his sky-blue, silver-tasselled hood onto a hook beside the others.

"Now we are all here!" declared Gandalf, hanging his hat at the end of the row of hoods. "Quite a merry gathering. I hope there is something left for the latecomers to eat and drink!"

"Yes, there's plenty," replied Bilbo, gesturing for the group to follow him down the hall.

Gandalf fell into step beside him, peering curiously down at him. He opened his mouth to ask something, but Bilbo quickly interrupted.

"Be careful of the -"

Thunk.

"Rafters," Bilbo finished with yet another sigh, watching Gandalf rub his head.

"A little low, these ceilings," the wizard commented, grimacing.

"Or maybe you're just a little tall!" called a grinning Fili from the dining room. "We seem to be managing just fine."

"Impertinent dwarf," Gandalf grumbled, hunched over to keep from hitting his head again.

Bilbo darted ahead to pull out a chair for Thorin, the grandest chair he could find in his little hobbit-hole. Thorin paused for a moment, then slowly sank into it, nodding his thanks. Bilbo gave him a quick smile and took his own place at the table, which he had made sure to include this time, as he didn't want to miss out on all the food again.

He wasn't much for conversation, as he didn't want to slip up and reveal all the things he knew, but he didn't bother asking if they would stay for supper after the meal was finished. Already knowing the answer, he just made to collect the plates, and didn't protest when the dwarves sprang up to clear them away instead.

The dishes were soon cleaned and put away, and the dwarves came back to find Bilbo watching Thorin and Gandalf blow smoke-rings around the room.

"Now for some music!" Thorin declared as his company filed into the room, snuffing out his pipe and setting it aside. "Bring out the instruments!"

There was a rush for instruments just as Bilbo remembered, and he sat back in his chair to listen to the dwarves' music. It was enthralling as it had been the first time, and he felt as though he was indeed fifty all over again and feeling a great desire for adventure. He found himself humming quietly along to the familiar tune.

It eventually stopped, of course, once dark had fallen, and Thorin stood to begin his speech.

"Gandalf, dwarves, and Mister Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit - may the hair on his toes never fall out! All praise to his wine and ale!"

The ache in Bilbo's heart increased upon hearing his friend's typically long-winded beginning, and he barely managed to reply, "You are very kind." His voice came out with a funny choked quality to it, as if he was about to cry. Which was, of course, absurd, he thought as he blinked furiously against his burning eyes.

Thorin stopped, staring at Bilbo, his brow furrowed. "Is something the matter, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo quickly shook his head, scrubbing away the tears that were leaking down his cheeks. "Nothing at all, Thorin," he whispered, unable to help the familiarity that slipped out with his friend's first name. "And, uh -" He cleared his throat, speaking a little louder. "Please, call me Bilbo, all of you. It seems appropriate if we're to - uh, work together."

Slowly, Thorin nodded, although he did not continue with his speech. He just... stared at Bilbo, a puzzled divot between his heavy brows, until Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, worried that he had made a mistake.

"Tell me, Mister Baggi - Bilbo," said Thorin suddenly. "Do you have much experience in the matter of burglary?"

Bilbo felt his lips twist into a humourless smile as images flashed in his mind. A golden cup. A large gemstone that could be called white, if you ascribed the same colour to the stars themselves. Before that, a set of keys, countless morsels of food, even the very dwarves who now sat in his dining room. All done while invisible, of course, but perhaps this time he could be a burglar before he found the ring as well as afterwards. (He was a little reluctant to take possession of the ring again now that he knew what it was, but he also knew that it had been an invaluable asset on their journey, and besides if he hadn't found it, it wouldn't have been destroyed, so he resolved to pick it up again as he had before.)

"Yes. Quite a bit, in fact."

A murmur of surprise went around the room. Even Gandalf's bushy eyebrows raised, although he stayed silent, still puffing on his pipe.

"How about travel?" Thorin asked, evidently set on grilling him now. "Fighting? Sword or axe, what's your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo sighed yet again. "I'm rather skilled at darts, if you must know, and I quite enjoy a good hike now and then," he answered, voice dripping with sarcasm that he never would have dared back at the beginning, but he was rather used to being treated with the indulgence afforded to eccentric elderly folk, so he didn't think much of it at all until Thorin snorted and he realised that the dwarf had taken his words seriously.

Another outbreak of muttering spread throughout the room, and amidst all the questions about his sincerity, he caught the fated words, murmured by Gloin to Oin.

"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Bilbo's teeth gritted, and he addressed Thorin again, discarding the sarcasm this time. "In all seriousness, I favour a sword, although seeing how I am not currently in possession of one, the question seems moot."

Thorin looked him up and down, as if trying and failing to imagine him using a sword. "I see."

Electing to ignore the dwarves' doubt, Bilbo stood, heading towards the hallway. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I am going to -" His toes snagged on something, perhaps a hole in the carpet, and he stumbled, a hand darting out to steady himself upon Gandalf, who happened to be the nearest solid object.

"Oh, terribly sorry, Gandalf," apologised Bilbo, looking quite a bit less flustered than one might expect. "As I was saying, I am going to fetch a light. I will return in a moment."

"Excellent idea," replied Gandalf, peering down at Bilbo. The dwarves may not have found his stumble suspicious, but the wizard was well aware of the surefootedness of hobbits and suspected Bilbo to be up to something, which, of course, he was.

At fifty, Bilbo Baggins had been polite to a fault and wholly inexperienced in theft. However, having lived over a hundred and thirty years before his death, he now considered himself a fairly seasoned burglar and quite disliked being doubted or mocked. So when he saw the opportunity to prove himself, he took it, and by the time he returned with a lamp, Gandalf was rifling through his pockets in search of a map he was certain he had had on his person.

Bilbo placed the lamp on the table and tilted his head curiously at the wizard, struggling to conceal a grin. "Is there something wrong, Gandalf?"

Gandalf's shrewd eyes snapped to him, and he gazed intently for a moment or two before explaining, "I seem to have lost a rather important map. You wouldn't happen to have any idea of its whereabouts, would you?"

"Not the foggiest clue," Bilbo replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Oh - wait, what is this?" With a - perhaps unnecessary - theatrical flourish, he withdrew the map from his waistcoat, holding it up. "Well, it appears it's right here in my pocket. How odd." He dropped it onto the table in front of Gandalf, his grin breaking through his attempted poker face.

Gandalf stared at the map for a few seconds, then chuckled loudly and suddenly, patting Bilbo on the back. "Very impressive, my friend."

Bilbo laughed and went to sit back down, not noticing the suspicious look Gandalf shot him behind his back.

"Now, then," the wizard began, spreading the map out on the table. "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin. It is a plan of the Mountain."

Thorin glanced at it, then shook his head, disappointed. "I don't see how this will help us much. I remember the Mountain well enough, and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."

"There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain," put in Balin. "But it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."

"Unfortunately so," Bilbo murmured to himself, his shoulders curling a little inwards.

"There is one thing you haven't noticed, and that is the secret entrance," pointed out Gandalf. "You see that rune on the west side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."

"It may have been secret once," Thorin countered, "but how do we know it remains so? Old Smaug has lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves."

"He may, but he can't have ever used it. It is far too small for him - 'five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, and Smaug couldn't have crept into a hole that size even when he was a young dragon, let alone now, after devouring so many of the dwarves and the men of Dale. In any case, the door should be closed and hidden, made to look exactly like the side of the mountain, and therefore kept secret from the rest of the world, if not from Smaug."

Bilbo leant closer to get a proper look at the map, which he had not seen for decades. The Mountain drawn in dark ink on the paper seemed a lot smaller than the Mountain of his memories.

"Also," Gandalf went on, "I forgot to mention that with the map came a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" He presented it to Thorin, a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, flashing silver in the lamplight. "Keep it safe!"

"Indeed I will," replied Thorin, taking the key and fastening it upon the fine gold chain that hung around his neck. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for the better. So far we have had no clear idea of what to do. We thought of going east, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake -"

Bilbo had heard Thorin's ramblings before, of course, and if this was an ordinary meeting with friends, he would have tuned him out. However, he was acutely aware of just how precious his time here was - every second with Thorin and Fili and Kili alive, every second with the others smiling and in good cheer, every second unburdened by deep, heavy grief - so he listened quietly to the voice he'd spent so many years missing.

"- but we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the south of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too - far too often, unless he has changed his habits."

"That would be no good," added Gandalf. "Not without a mighty warrior, even a hero. I tried to find one, but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood, heroes are scarce, or simply not to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; dragons are comfortably far-off, and therefore legendary. That is why I settled on burglary - especially when I remembered the existence of a side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins, the burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let's get on and make some plans."

"Very well, then," agreed Thorin. "Supposing the burglar gives us some ideas or suggestions." He turned to Bilbo with mock politeness, although it was a bit less mocking than it had been the first time around.

Bilbo drew himself up, meeting Thorin's gaze with a determined look. He was the only one there who knew what was in store, and over the course of the night, he had come to the decision that he meant to bring them all through the journey and out the other side alive and more or less intact, if at all possible. "Certainly, Thorin," he answered briskly. "I should think that we ought to focus on actually getting there and finding the side-door before we worry about dealing with much else. I take it there is quite a lot of treasure?" he added, although he already knew.

Thorin nodded. "Yes, halls upon halls of it."

"It will be impossible for me to move it all by myself. I will be able to perhaps steal one or two pieces before the dragon notices us, so I would suggest you give some thought as to which pieces you should like." A large white gem glimmered in his mind again before he pushed the image away and forged on, ignoring the echoes of dread. "I would also suggest -" His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his words steady. "I would also suggest that we take a moment to consider the possibility of things such as dragon-sickness, and how it may be overcome once the Mountain is in our possession."

"Sage advice," said Gandalf approvingly, filing away his suspicion to deal with later and patting Bilbo on the shoulder.

Bilbo threw him a quick smile, though he was unable to hide the hint of tiredness to it. He found that he didn't particularly want to speak of their journey anymore, not with the knowledge of what was to come weighing on him, heavy as a sack of dragon-guarded gold.

"And, well, don't you know, I think we have talked long enough for one night, if you see what I mean. What about bed, and an early start, and all that? I would appreciate some help with breakfast tomorrow, if anyone would be so kind."

"You're the host, are you not?" replied Thorin, raising a dark, heavy brow. "But I agree about bed and breakfast. I like six eggs with my ham when starting on a journey - fried, not poached, and mind you don't break 'em."

Bilbo crossed his arms, staring at the dwarf expectantly, until Thorin reluctantly added, "Please."

Bilbo nodded and grabbed a small notebook that had been laying on the mantlepiece, quickly jotting down Thorin's preferred breakfast. "Anyone else?"

The dwarves and Gandalf all ordered their breakfasts, and Bilbo managed to get a 'please' from every one of them. Afterwards, he had to find places for all of them to sleep, which was thankfully a much shorter affair than last time, as he had his previous experiences to go by. He did have to dig extra blankets out of the linen cupboard, and set several dwarves and Gandalf (who was much too tall for his spare beds) up on couches and chairs, but he eventually got them all stowed away and retired to his own little bed. The shock of finding himself back in the past, along with having to host thirteen dwarves and a wizard, had left him rather exhausted, despite the renewed strength of his younger body. Before he collapsed into bed, he remembered to leave a sliver of his curtains unclosed, so that he would be awoken by the rays of dawn.

He fell asleep to the sound of Thorin's humming from the bedroom next to his, and this time, it was comforting.

The Hobbit was created by J.R.R. Tolkien.

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu Manga - Tome 3, Part 1

[looks at the cover art where he's doing literally nothing] I'm insane. I',m insane.

He likes to stay in the shadows but didn't hesitate to help.....

He likes the brotherhood of tofu so much that it overpowers his rational thought and social anxiety.

Not Joris being drawn with Shojo Sparkles around him. I bet he thinks he looks so cool. LOSER!

The sad thing is that,,,, he does look cool. His cringe charm works on me.

He looks so tense-yet-chill... fgjdfg.

The thing about Joris is that he is 600 and there's very little in this world that actually makes him feel afraid for his life. Though intellectually, he knows that he probably should be scared shitless.

Don't worry though, he is about to feel some capital-letter-f Fear.

I do think that when it's not just him that's in danger, he gets a bit more anxious.

HE LOOKS LIKE A BUG. @dullard anyway hey your pfp.

Pictured: pack of wild animals.

Joris trying to comfort Ruel by putting a hand on his shoulder and saying, "No, let Yugo cook with this one. I think he has a point. We should cross the ravine."

He's so emotionally constipated.

DFGSDFGAKSLDGDIFJAOISDFJSADLKGHSA;LGASDFGHSJFGHSDFUGSHDFJGVHSDNFGJSHRDGJVLKDFHGSUFGHDFJKGHSDJFG

"Very nice flight, Ruel." said with a blank expression of terror.

They keep asking him this stuff and he keeps not knowing anythinggg. And it's funny every single time.

"Ruel, try dodging the rocks."

I don't know why he's so funny. He's so fucking unemotional it's actually insane.

The way Joris stammers here...

He went from knowing shitfuck about cracklers, mostly being useless during the fight save for one moment, holding onto the train somewhere offscreen for his dear life, saying "CAN YOU TRY DODGING THE ROCKS", to still being alive.

He's probably,, dissociating by now. fsjdkgdf

LEGENDARY Joris moment.

He's so cute... So excited to fish together with Yugo... And the way he casually calls him "Master".

Some important things to know about Joris is that he is petty and hypocritical. YES I believe he's known Eva and Amalia since they were kids, YES I think he cares about them in some way... but I think he likes Yugo more.

Simply because Yugo won't die that fast. He's worth spending time on. He can be a mentor to him ("do as I say, not as I do"), he remembers what it was like — living, spending time together with Lilotte and Simone, and knowing that he was going to outlive them. Knowing that he was going to have to outlive everyone else. And, his childhood ended at 10, while Yugo's ended at 12.

He can't help but look at him and think these things.

I think Joris doesn't exactly look down on mortals, but instead has something much more mentally ill going on there. He can't allow himself to care about people like Amalia and Eva.

The way he looks at Ruel's fishing rod... fjgsfg.

It's so difficult to have relationships with people who aren't childhood friends or his uncle and dad. He can barely talk, or come up with any way to get closer together. So the best way he knows is gift-giving.

A very brief moment of vulnerability, and then —

A casual lil shrug. He's insane. He wants them (especially Yugo) to ask questions so bad. dfgjdkgsfd

And also, OF COURSE Amalia and Ruel know of Khan Karkass! Nerds...

He dropped this lore so, so casually, and then did not elaborate. The true Joris Jurgen approach to building friendships.

Ruel can't count </3 it's 600.

[puts on tinfoil hat] I think Joris is feeling mixed emotions. On one hand, this is Yugo, and Yugo loves his gift. On another hand, he just gave away one of the remaining pieces of his friend. Was it the right choice? Is this worth it?

casually sticks his pinky out like a princess, looking like he is going to have some sort of violent episode.

THEY'RE SO CUTE... THE FRIENDS.

Begging him to stop talking and acting like a beautiful damsel from a castle.