#it weighs on me. i wish i could help these folks but I'm just a random mfer who sometimes has a few bucks to spare and

[dragonlights]

Idk man. I don't know about the history of Palestine. And I- not having done like, academic research- do believe that Jewish folks might indeed be indigenous to the area. (Like, it sounds plausible from what I've heard)

But. Using that as an excuse to like, force folks from their homes and kill them is unconscionable. Like. How do other Jewish folks not look at the suffering of people in Gaza and not see their cousins? Their grandfathers and mothers?????

Why do we use the past to completely excuse the cruelty of the present???

[bow-of-aros]

Day Six: Cuddles

Summary: Caleb is keeping watch and refuses to light a fire. It's a good thing that Mollymauk runs hot.

-

Hey folks. I'm like 50% sure I remember what I wrote in this. I'm very tired. Hope that y'all enjoy <33

-

Caleb had volunteered for the first watch. They weren’t far off the road, and the land surrounding them was relatively flat, so he figured that they should probably save the party members with heightened sight for when it was dark.

Not that it wasn’t getting dark already, but Caleb was going to take advantage of every last glimmer of sunlight before making himself light a fire.

He was getting better at the whole not freezing up thing. Some days were better than others, some days he could light the flame without even blinking.

He’s not entirely sure if those are the good days or the bad days.

Either way, as the sun set, Caleb couldn’t quite bring himself to utter the words so familiar it felt as though they were etched in his bones. So, as the air cooled and his friends—Were they his friends? Would they still be if they knew what he’d done?—dropped off to sleep, Caleb resigned himself to a few hours of straining his eyes looking for non-existent threats.

“Hello there, Mr. Caleb! How are you doing on this fine eve—Fuck you’re cold!”

Ah. Of course. Because why should Caleb be allowed to wallow in the shadows of his past on his own?

“Hallo, Mollymauk. Can I help you?”

Caleb can feel the warmth radiating off of the man as Molly sits down next to him. Not touching, which he appreciates, but close enough that it’s an option if he feels open to it.

“Well, I couldn’t let my favourite human sit out here in the cold all on his own.”

He offers Caleb a soft smile, leaning in just a bit and grinning fully when Caleb hesitantly closes the distance.

Then the words fully register, “Your favourite human?”

Mollymauk just laughs, “Yeah, don’t tell Beau.”

Silence falls over them, but it no longer weighs down on Caleb. In fact, it’s nice enough that he positions an arm over Molly’s shoulder, attempting to subtly soak in the warmth he radiates like a furnace.

In a rare moment of letting Caleb get away with not talking about his feelings, Molly simply slips his arm under his ratty coat and rests a head on his shoulder, making sure to not stab Caleb in the face with his horns.

This is nice.

“Soooooooo. Why exactly haven’t you lighted a fire? You’re basically an ice cube at this point.”

And he takes it back.

“Not that I’m not a fan of the whole brooding in the dark thing that you have going on. And, you know that I’m always down for a snuggle,” He waggles his eyebrows, “But I’m not a fan of you dying from hypothermia.”

He definitely takes it back.

“I’m just tired, Mollymauk. I don’t have the energy to maintain a concentration spell right now.”

And it’s true. Caleb is tired and he doesn’t have the energy to maintain a concentration spell right now. It doesn’t matter that it would be practically effortless.

He really doesn’t care if Mollymauk believes him or not, which he definitely does not, but Molly just shrugs and pulls him a bit closer, so Caleb lets himself relax.

Just a little bit.

“Well, it’s almost time for Fjord and Jester to take over, and I know how averse you are to getting some real rest. So,” Molly’s arm tightens around him and Caleb is really starting to regret letting his guard down, “I have an idea to warm you up and tire you out. What do you say?”

“Nein, Mollymauk. That is completely unnecessa—AHARY! Molleheheheheymauk!”

The hand that had been resting so unobtrusively on Caleb’s side suddenly clawed in and the resulting jolt sent him flying into Molly’s lap.

Which did not help his situation.

“Awwww Caleb! You could have told me that you just wanted to cuddle.”

Caleb wished that he could say that he couldn’t hear Molly’s teasing remarks over his desperate attempts to keep quiet, but there was no such luck to be had.

He starts to panic when Molly’s hands creep upwards, because there is no chance that he won’t wake up everyone else if Molly can get at his ribs.

“Helloooooooo! We’re here to relieve youuuuuuu!”

Scheiße. Jester absolutely cannot see this.

With some truly impressive maneuvering and at least two pulled muscles, Caleb is out of Molly’s hold and up on his feet.

“Goodnight! Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb stumbles backward, glancing over at where Jester and Fjord are walking towards them, “I find that I am tired and I’m going to sleep. Goodnight!”

He waves over his shoulder and receives a very enthusiastic wave and a two-fingered salute in return before crawling into his bedroll.

After a few moments, Caleb feels a warm hand brush what he’s sure is a rat’s nest of hair out of his face.

“Goodnight, Mr. Caleb.”

Yeah, maybe these people would be his friends.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #7

Today, I finally got around to seasoning the broth I made. It turned out really well. Most of it is being used to cook rice as we speak. Some of it is in mason jars, awaiting being gifted to friends who might want some. The rest is in a mug, on its way to being in my belly! It's warm and flavorful and wonderful, and I'm enjoying each and every sip!

I wish I could share it with you; alas, I cannot. But I can show you a picture of one of the filled mason jars.

Truth be told, I've actually been trying to play a video game today, but my brain seems to want to do literally anything else, haha… It's like that for trauma survivors sometimes, though, isn't it? Sometimes it can be hard to simply allow oneself to relax and have fun. Even after all these years, my body is still primed for hypervigilance, looking for metaphorical fires to put out. Nowadays, there are no metaphorical fires to put out though, so on days like today, I end up just spinning my wheels endlessly and tiring myself out in the process, haha…

I wonder if you get days like that sometimes. But then again, first you would need to have peaceful days in which to spin your wheels, right? Hm…

…I wish I could ask you how you're doing and what you're up to. I wish I could ask you if there is some way I might be able to help, even if it's something simple like listening to you talk about something weighing you down, or giving you a delicious cup of nutritious broth to drink, to give you a bit of extra strength while you do all of your unimaginably difficult things. I try to do things like this as often as possible for the people surrounding me, but it doesn't always work out.

Much like how it is in your world, folks in my world get conditioned to avoid help and connection, either because they're suspicious of it, or they don't believe they deserve it. There are probably a lot more reasons, but those seem to be the main ones; everyone here suffers from invisible wounds given to them by the people around them, and sometimes you just can't get through to the other person because of those wounds. Sometimes it's discouraging to think that maybe my voice and my outstretched hand don't actually reach anywhere or count for anything; after all, it seems like there are innumerable starfish stranded on the sand at low tide, and sometimes it seems as though the beach stretches on infinitely in both directions.

Oh; have you heard that story about the starfish on the beach, I wonder? It goes sort of like this:

One day, there was a child walking along the beach. The tide was low, and lots of starfish were stranded, dying on the sand. The child was picking up all the starfish that could be seen, and gently tossing them back into the sea. Then a grumpy adult approached the child. Angry at what the child was trying to do, the adult said: "Why are you wasting your time? There are thousands of starfish, and miles upon miles of beach; what makes you think that you could possibly make a difference?" The child looked at the adult, smiled gently, reached down to pick up another starfish, and tossed it back into the sea. The child then replied, "I made a difference to that one."

Someday I hope to be even half as brave as the child in the story. But as it is now, I tend to crumble easily in response to naysayers and to indifference. But maybe the first steps towards becoming more like the child in the story is refusing to be blind to the starfish we've already tossed back into the sea, even if they end up crawling back to the sand and getting stranded again. And maybe the final steps towards becoming more like the child in the story involve understanding that all humans are starfish with the same powers as the child. We can all toss each other back into the sea if we try really hard.

I hope you'll do your best to toss as many starfish back into the sea as you can. And I hope when someone goes to do the same for you, you'll let them.

Please be safe out there; we need you here.

Your friend, Lumine

[wtf-a-psychoanalysis]

Tw: Vent, Suicidal ideation, trauma, body horror, abuse, eating disorders reference to medias, god complex?

I'm not doing anything, i don't have it in me. And I'm afraid y'all reporting me to get help will make it worse, you can talk to me tho

For fucks sake i realized why i like the TMNT and Usagi Yojimbo and Good omens tho i might just misunderstanding everything

The teenage mutant ninja turtles have been through a lot of traumatic shit, getting their organs rapidly rearranged, killing adversaries, targeted and unaccepted yet they still got back up with the support of each other like. Yeah any Splinter taught them to be fighting machines but he taught them hope too and at least some confidence in themselves. Contribute to a team, have a family and fight to defend it

I want to kill myself because I didn't remember that i have to cook my dad food, get the dogs food ready, do something "productive" that my dad clearly sees.

I have no desire to feed myself, if feel no joy and in preparing and consuming if i can't even make something i want to eat, it's so stupid, i can't even make a sandwich for myself at home i can cook meat and eat raw tomatoes i guess l.

I wish I could be disciplined enough in anycraft to make myself survive or link me together in a group that accepts me and loves me and understand that i need them to be patient for me.

I might just starve myself, to please my father expectations of my weight loss and get out sooner. Idk

I hate being tied down by my things but they bring me joy.

I wish to be like Usagi, wandering after losing everything due to loyalty, focus, a duty that is greater than himself to the point living and helping others is just something you can do, or even not having a purpose to do so because failed you have nothing else.

A not only that but using life long discipline to get you through it.

While he's hardened and jaded by the world he still is kind and wise and has a lot to offer. I feel like a stillborn who calcified before leaving out to the world, attached to weigh down.

If i just up and leave, i would surely die, as i have been told. I think and i think and i think, i can't even cut myself because it would show. I am so soft and have already lost faith. Maybe there's a folk story out there about a beast locked up in a guilded cage while also unprepared for the world. A life people envy yet some how has been convinced that it shouldn't live, be angry, get sad or whatever because people have it worse.

I don't have a car to live in, people to move out with only because i feel like a burden, i want to walk And walk and walk but i have no skills to survive, a fleeting will to live and a fear my father will find me.

Why can't I get transformed in to something new or lose everything to have an excuse to leave or have skills or disciplines i can use for survival.

The only skill i have is to not go through with active self harm or suicide, to do nothing but hide away in my own body.

I can't gain skills because I'm too impatient and i want to be perfect so i will never look back to know how bad i was. If i do things wrong, i will get hurt.

I can't do anything without risk and i always do things wrong so why is it so hard to go through with things bad or good. If I'm able to go through with teaching myself discipline then what's stopping me from killing myself. Or the other way around.

I want to know what to do understand what people want, be selfish at times but in a healthy way. Be who I want to be or to be turned into it.

Sometimes i want to be such a vicious beast so no one can hurt me and so they can leave me alone. Other times I want pity from others so they can help me survive, why can't I be kind and helpful and just not die so i continue to live being nice and helpful.

Wander or settle somewhere else to take me away from here, maybe being untrue to myself.

The thing that accurately describes me is Aziraphael from good omens like I'm exactly like him, i collect books, i have friends who tell me that I'm being controlled, i feel like i can't fight it, just i need a catalyst to defend what i love and enjoy.

I wish I can kill myself to achieve such dreams but I know i doesn't work that way.

I keep living, i keep living, if my purpose is to suffer when finding something to enjoy in life, Gods probably made me immortal as life is needed.

I want to be a heirloom passed down and pretty given everything or a good man with a wife and family.

Or to wander for eternity to adapt so i can become a legend a myth, to keep experiencing. I want to live forever so i can out live my stressors, my abuser, my pain. Not needing to eat that much. Cursed to wander yet not losing my beauty, while i do have to earn respect from time to time, internal biology wouldn't be an issue. Tho with a hammer space i can have my cake and eat it too.

I guess i just want like any other person but why can't I be enough, will those wants go away when i feel fulfilled. I feel like i shouldn't feel like death or homelessness is gonna make my life feel better.

I want to be enough, experience and love myself.

If not I'll just try to be God and control things at earth level

[samimrudro]

Today, I met a total of 66 people, and surprisingly, no one could sense that something was off. My morning started with being late for classes once again. After rushing back to the garage, grabbing my bike, I had a quick chat with the security guard, and then off to classes.

The first class was with Rabbani sir, and oh dear God, I love that man so much. I would genuinely die for him. He's incredibly enthusiastic and just an amazing person. Some friends were there too. After finishing the class, I headed to the club room, where five of us, including three or four friends of mine, talked for at least an hour. We covered everything – activities, work, how life is going.

Then it was off to the cafeteria for lunch, where I had a good chat with some old folks. After lunch, another class, which was good, with amazing people – a mix of old and new faces. But then, back to the club, this time with some seniors. We chatted, had a few laughs, and then a friend called me to join others for evening snacks. I wanted to stay as busy as possible, so I went along, and we talked for at least an hour or so.

After spending the whole day with people, I found myself far from content, actually feeling terrible. I needed to vent, so I called Mahi, a close person. His birthday was a couple of days ago, and I couldn't attend due to my own issues. I hoped he could help me, listen to my misery, but unfortunately, even he couldn't.

Back home, I tried counting how many people I met today, and it turns out it was at least 66. Yet, no one seemed to notice what's going on with me, why I'm so sad. I bluffed them, didn't tell them anything, partly because I wanted to hide the pain. I believe no one wants to see a sad or depressed person; everyone prefers a happy front.

I rememebred l a moment before lunch when I was getting down from the lift, full of friends. On the second floor, an old course mate entered, and I hugged him. One of my friends said I had so much energy, but I wish I could have told her that it's all fake. I'm barely surviving, unsure if I can make it. I wish I could text or call you and share everything.

I wish I could tell you the stories, share what's happening in my life, and express how much I love, miss, and want you. I want the right to love and be loved. I love you, and I wish you could understand the depth of my feelings, the loneliness that weighs on me each day.

-day of 24th January.

- 2:47 am

-25/1/24

[rawtears]

I feel like all my life I was told it would get better, but it doesn't. it really fucking doesn't. I think I started getting really depressed in like 5th grade, I shut up and suffered dragging everyone around be down with me, until I got help in like 8th grade. My parents don't want me to be a pill popper, and honestly, I don't either, so I've been doing all this therapy shit. And it helped, at least with all that pain and rage and anxiety inside, but I still have to take all that external shit and deal with it. What i've learned is my issue is that I care. I can't talk to anyone cause they get mad, they say I care, but they don't, if they did they would'nt be so apathetic, they would cry with me. and its okay if you dont care, because it destroys yo, im not mad at them, i just wish they could own up to it rather than make me feel crazy. I feel like I'm going insane. When did having empathy and emotions become so detached from rationality, because rationality requires emotions, because with emotion, witout empathy, without humanity, we wouldnt have morality. All these judgements we make cou;dnt be determined without emotions, we would be constantly caught up in arguments not knowing which is right without any common ground if morality wasn't involved. Basically the only thing that makes me feel like im not the onlysane one left is listening to these old folk punk shows. I wanna getaway. I don't wanna go to college and work and die, I wanna help fix the world, because this burden just keeps weighing me down and I cantlive knowing I and everyone around me is suffering, all the time. I just wanna make people okay again.

[phantarein]

Noir pt.4

MORE NOIR!!

He did not answer.

Lu Xi watched his father leave in a rush with a mixture of emotions, still not entirely sure if he could trust him. The promise of seeing him again lingered in the air, but doubt invaded his mind. As he stood alone in the dimly lit corridor, he felt tired, conflicted... hungry.

He swore he had just eaten, as seen with the blood bag in the room- yet he couldn't stop his thirst. He tries to shake the feeling off, to have a clear mind to ponder about his next move. But he needed to find Ambrosia before the hunger consumed him completely. 

He kept going around the place, surprised by the lack of people present,  he couldn't help but feel unease over it. His footsteps echoed throughout the big halls, and before he realized it he was already in the exit of the medical ward. Over there, a few people in coats were working.

He approaches one of the nurses, taking a deep breath before talking. "Excuse me, would you happen to know where I can find Ambrosia? I have... a craving that needs to be satisfied"

"Ambrosia, you say?" The nurse asked, her tone cautious. "What do you need it for?"

Lu Xi hesitated for a moment, surprised that he wasn't recognized. "I have... certain abilities that require Ambrosia to sustain. It's a matter of urgency."

The woman looked at her colleagues, before turning back to him. "I'm sorry, Ambrosia is only for... high members"    

He felt a strange feeling inside of him, his vision went black, and only being able to look at the nurse's alma, he felt hungry, so hungry... but before he could do anything, someone loudly entered the room.

"Lu Xi! There you are, how are you feeling, son?" A big, burly man with a gas mask comes into the office. It was Basil, he ran towards the man and hugged him tight, Basil hugging him even harder. Basil was the father he wished he had, he was one of the only people he could see during his years of captivity, and he had quite the affection for the man, even if he was pure brawn and no brains.

"Oh, welcome sir-" Said the nurse, terrified.

Completely ignoring the nurse Lu Xi refers to Basil. "I'm... I'm alright, Basil," he replied, "I was just looking for some Ambrosia."

Basil chuckled heartily and ruffled Lu Xi's hair. "Always hungry, aren't you, son? Don't you worry, I've got some stashed away for you? These folks were just being cautious, you know how it is."

 The nurse got pale, there was only one person whom Basil referred to as a son, and that was the new leader.

"I'm so sorry, sir, your majesty, b-boss? We didn't recognize you! We'll bring you Ambrosia right away." She said, horrified at her mistake. She ran to retrieve a vial of the drug, Lu Xi couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

"So, Basil, where have you been? Last I heard of you you went to another country to study Alma." 

"Ah, its a long story, son. I did go abroad to study Alma, but I realized my true place was here, alongside the Sei family. So I came back as soon as I could."

Lu Xi nodded, understanding the bond he had formed with them in Magenta.

"I'm glad you're here, Basil." Lu Xi says

"You've always got my support, little leader!" Basil pats him on the back.

 As Lu Xi prepared to drink the Ambrosia, he couldn't help but wonder what he could do next. His role as the leader of Magenta weighed him down. He looks at his reflection, but instead of himself, there is a shadow with a smile looking directly back at him.

He couldn't help but get shivers down his spine, it was as if the darkness inside of him was manifesting itself into reality, a reminder of his newfound power.

He brings the Ambrosia towards his lips, drinking it. The effects were nearly instantaneous. His strength surged, and a sense of invigoration washed over him. He could feel the shadows within him respond to his will more readily than ever before as if they were eager to do his bidding.

Basil watched in amazement as Lu Xi's aura seemed to change before his eyes, instead of the scared, malnourished child what he saw was a man powerful and full of determination. "Impressive, son," he muttered, still in awe.

Lu Xi and Basil walk out of the room, "Actually, I was searching for you, the boss- well, your mother wants to see you."

"Does she now..." He sulks, he doesn't feel ready to see her.

Basil seemed to understand immediately, having dealt with his mother personally for all his life as he was destined to serve the Sei family. He never agreed with Eve's methods, and much less her treatment of those close to her. Yet his loyalty was unbreakable. "I understand, son. It's not easy to deal with her, but it might be important what she has to say."

They continued down the corridor, the mood dropping more and more the closer they got to her office. But he had a responsibility now as the leader of Magenta, and he couldn't afford to ignore her summons.

He took a deep breath.

They stood before the grand door of Eve's office, the moment of truth looming over them. Basil gave Lu Xi a pat on the back before stepping back and leaving, allowing Lu Xi to deal with his mother in privacy.

With a heavy heart, he knocks on the door.

"Enter," came his mother's overly sweet voice.

Lu Xi pushed the door and stepped into the heavily decorated office, trinkets surrounded the whole room, intricate patterns, luxurious gems and fabrics, a giant bookshelf with ancient tomes... Eve was standing near the window, looking at the land before her. She looked much the same as he remembered, her regal beauty was incomparable to anyone else.

"Lu Xi, my child, I was waiting for you."

She turns around to meet Lu Xi's eyes with a cold gaze, his own eyes defiant. "What do you need, Mother?"

Eve sat in her chair and motioned for Lu Xi to sit in front of her. "I see you're no longer a pathetic little child, you've taken your role as the new leader. That's good, you have a duty to uphold." She quickly scans him, "However, people with your kind of power shouldn't dress in measly hospital clothes, where's the symbol of your leadership? You shan't dress like this any longer, okay? Remember your position." She rambled, as always.

"I didn't come here to discuss my attire, Mother. I came here to find the truth." He clenched his fists in silent anger.

Eve smiles, "If I recall correctly, I was the one that summoned you here, what truth are you even talking about, my dear?"

He looks at her directly into her eyes, "The truth about the purification rituals, the Ambrosia, the forbidden apple, what you've been planning..."

Eve's smile didn't waver, as if she was expecting this, but there was a glint of something in her eyes. "Ah, curious as ever. Very well, I will tell you everything you wish to know, however, you must do something for me."

Lu Xi sweats, but he couldn't deny the intrigue within him. "What is it?"

Eve leaned forward playfully. "You must prove your loyalty to Magenta, to me. There is a task only you can undertake, and it will prove your commitment to our family and organization."

Lu Xi felt his heart drop, he knew whatever his mother was thinking wasn't good, or easy. But he needed to discover the truth, no matter the cost.

"Tell me what I must do" His voice came determined, despite his relunctancy.

Eve smiled even wider.

—--------------------------------------------

[forgottengodfrey]

Chuckling at his nephew's jibe, Godfrey nonetheless shook his head. "That is where you are wrong, Edmund," said he, placing a hand upon the younger man's shoulder. "I could not be prouder than to be defeated by so doughty a warrior as the Raven Prince. Though," he added, with a small laugh and the slightest wince. "My ribs may resent it, yet."

Breakfast smelled heavenly, the aromas of hot bread and fried toast wafting towards them with heady effervescence and setting Godfrey's stomach to groaning. With another laugh, he speared a stack of pancakes for his plate, and some sausages and fruits as well, before passing each serving to his nephew.

This was a fairly informal arrangement, sporting not so much as a single servant that the two might speak freely amongst themselves, and there was a palpable relief in that prospect. Godfrey was a careful man, weighing each word, a habit which had allowed him to live this long, but even he grew weary of such cares and, though he never fully relaxed in the palace, well aware that even the walls had ears, these rooms he had inspected, himself. Unlike most of the others they'd inhabited in their time, the palace of Stafford had not been purpose-built for spying, it seemed.

"Do not make the mistake, Edmund, of thinking it is merely my growing decripitude," he added with a teasing smirk. "That has brought you here. Your technique is everyday improving. I may perhaps in truth be past my peak as a warrior, but you will surpass even my former self well before you hit yours. I am sure of this. But," he added, gleefully slathering his toast with a healthy supply of butter, grinning towards his nephew. "Now I must quiz you on other subjects, and there, I'm afraid, you will find me just as sharp as I've ever been."

Spearing his eggs upon his fork, he looked to his nephew, serious now. "The executions. Tell me of the folk, there. What was their attitude as they watched? What was the mood?"

Godfrey, himself, had not been required and, thus, he had not attended, nor had Amira. He had tried to argue to Roderick that Edmund ought not to be there, as the issue was 'beneath the notice of so lofty a figure,' an argument which generally held sway with Roderick, but upon this point, he would not be moved in this case. Rumor that the raven banners had been spotted fighting on the Astairan side in the riots had made their way back to Roderick, and he had wished to crush such perfidious lies once and for all.

Still, Godfrey had not wished it to appear that the Calainon faction was in support of these things, and had put it about that the Emperor had required his sons' presence. This had the unfortune downside of showing Arthur and Sebastian also to have been victims of their father's ferocity, true, but it was far less of a loss than to allow anyone to believe that Edmund had endorsed the killings, and still helpful in crafting Roderick's image as a tyrant, even amongst his family. And Arthur, particularly, could always be relied upon to do something foolish which Godfrey might easily exploit.

"Your Astairan friends, Edmund -- what have they to say about the whole affair?"

Breaking Fast | Edmund & Godfrey

Spring was here and this morning Edmund had been grateful both for the sunlight and the warmth it provided. For the last few months, he and his uncle had risen before the crack of dawn to practice swordfighting, jousting, archery, and anything else that Godfrey felt could use some improvement. It had been cold and dark and brutal, but Edmund has risen to the challenge and now, he felt as though the seasons had rewarded him for his work. Now finished for the day, he and his uncle were enjoying their breakfast.

Edmund felt good after the exercise. He allowed his uncle to push him harder than anyone else, for he was truly the one person who he wasn't afraid to fail in front of. The measure of a man does not change if he falls, Edmund. What matters is what he does next. If he finds a way to stand again, he will be even stronger.

He was learning how to use his strengths to work for him -- not against him. His uncle was stronger and his blows could still knock Edmund to the ground -- but Edmund was faster and if he could anticipate his uncle's next move, he could stand his ground. He'd managed to beat him this afternoon, once, and while he felt proud for this accomplishment, he knew not to let it go to his head. He'd studied under his uncle for months now and had come to learn his style.

It would not always be his uncle who he would be fighting.

Despite this, he couldn't help but he couldn't resist the temptation to tease Godfrey about it, "You're getting older, uncle," He smirked, "It's a sad day for a man when he is beaten by the Raven Prince."

Edmund was not ignorant of his reputation. He'd heard what they'd used to say about him when they thought no one was listening. The Raven Prince had never won a tournament. He'd never even been close. The only times he'd ever advanced was when his opponents were woefully underqualified. Edmund suspected that they'd only won a spot in the tourney at all so that he might not loose every opponent he faced.

[peninkwrites]

Would you give any advice to novice dsmp authors or fic writers? Like what could be helpful for those that are new to writing for this kind of Fandom? As well as for a few characters like example c!Sam or c!dream. Thank you for your time.

Hmm I'll do my best, but I'll admit writing advice is not my forte!

To start, here is a handy guide to writing dialogue for a ton of dsmp characters, although for me personally, I tend to just watch their lore and just, copy their style of speaking pretty much? But idk if that works for everyone. As for getting started, my first dsmp fic I basically wrote one scene I would've liked to see in canon, at the time Tommy and Techno talking while Tommy was first exiled, and that evolved into seven chapters! You don't have to start with any big over-arching plot, starting small is okay! It can just be a single scene, or something you wish they explored more in canon, anything! And I tend to write pretty in-universe stuff, I haven't attempted any au fics so far, I prefer writing stuff based on canon, that way you can let canon sort of guide your narrative!

As for specifics– Writing c!Sam, knowing his moral compass is key, I've found. As well as understanding that his strength is largely a facade and deep down he's terrified. Here's a great meta post about the way his stupid little brain works.

And for c!Dream, you know the go-to metaphors, everything is a game to him. He thinks he's a god, and he weighs every choice like a chess move or like poking an animal with a stick just to see what happens. Dream isn't childlike, but he is childish in my book. He wants to win and he treats other people as things to entertain him. Now, if you're looking at in-prison Dream– He's terrified. Quackity leaves him powerless and scared, and he doesn't know how to deal with that, but that doesn't make him any less calculating. The Dead Don't Dream is my interpretation of pre-prison Dream at his peak evil, but as for how I view prison!Dream, if you want some idea of how I see him in that state, I have this oneshot, Is your blood as red as this? and there's a lot of prison!Dream content in my Awesamdude-centric fic Rocks That Bleed which is also where you can see more of how I interpret Awesamdude. These are just how I've decided to play around with these characters, not necessarily the right way! I'm pretty sure there are clips out there of cc!Dream and cc!Sam talking about their characters, although I don't have any handy, I'm afraid. And checking out the tags for their characters on @/dsmpanalysis can give you some more ideas for how other folks view them!

[sys-aurastella]

Its 12:50 AM. Christmas morning technically. Two of my partners are fast asleep above me on the bed. Its not big enough for all of us, so I volunteer to sleep on a futon in the floor. We're at her parents house, in her bedroom. Another partner is in canada, and we're right by the border. Im gonna see them tomorrow and Im very excited. Cuz of covid, its been 2 years and some change. My other two partners are also long distance and arent here sadly. Regardless, we have discord to message each other and well wishes.

Honestly, I'm the happiest I've been in a long time. But a part of me kinda burns. I wish I could tell my parents. They're pretty orthadox folk and me being trans was the biggest shake up of their lives. They're loving and supporting folk but well. Orthadox and often head in the sand. I was in some big trouble a year back and Despite how much they harpe on "Family will always be there for you", My parents didn't help me. It was my friends and my loving poly. I woulda been homeless without them. Being mad at my parents is like being mad at a pet. They don't know what they did. Why be upset and hold a grudge?

And yet, I do. I wish they helped me. I wish they tried. I also wish they would just.. Apologize. Despite trying to bring up that I was upset at them, they just..dont recognize it. Which just upsets me. I wanna love my parents and I want to share my loving poly. The same way my girlfriends parents basically accepted us and has done nothing but warmly welcome us into their home.

I wanna tell them the quirks my partners have, what we've been up to , and share the good of my poly with my family. But how can I even think about that when I cant really feel like I trust my parents?

I know they're gonna call tomorrow and I absolutely dread it. What do I say? Do I even pick up the phone? It weighs alot on my mind. I want my parents in my life but how can I even begin to think they'd even approve of 5 romantic partners?

I don't know why Im posting all this but its been sitting in my mind for awhile now. I wish I could share my life with my parents. Or my family in general. I'm just the black sheep that just doesn't fit their idealistic world and It kinda tears me up

[rogue-durin-16]

DISTRACTION

Request: I'd like to request a fluff kili x reader where the reader is stressed with loads amount of work

Pairing: Kíli x Reader

Genre: fluff but make it stressed

Tags:

Requested by: @thatdambookworm13

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722

Warnings: none

A/N: I really fucking hope all of you are safe and sound, and the same for your families and loved ones. These are fucked up times.

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

As the official manager of the library of Erebor, I had numerous responsibilities —I didn't even dare to count them—, but ever since the young prince had started courting me, difficulties were added to my work.

He would present in the library at any moment of the day and would find an excuse for me to pay him attention.

More often than not, for obvious reasons, I would indulge Kíli's wishes and would allow myself to get distracted by his words and his kisses, and leave the work aside for a little bit.

I'm not going to lie, having him there, teasing me, listening to his stories or rambling about any topic related to his life was a breath of fresh air.

He was joyful, curious, quite handsome, and he was not only interested in me, but in what I had to say.

However, there was a difference between sitting against one of those massive shelves with him once a week, and doing said thing once a day.

I could see the foreshadowing of what was about to fall upon my shoulders, but it didn't sink in until I saw the loads of parchments, documents, books and work in general that I had to take care of in one day.

I was halfway through a very intensive working day when the door opened. I had no need to look up in order to see who it was.

"Good afternoon, amrâlimé." I rolled my eyes at his words and looked up to see him plop down in one of the chairs. "what are you doing?"

"working." I shortly replied, moving around as fast as I could. I hadn't intended to be rude but I knew he was going to be a not so welcomed distraction and that didn't put me in a better mood.

"You look like you've been here for too long." he pointed out when I threw myself down on me chair to start signing the documents that needed to be out of the library by tomorrow morning. "Maybe you could use a break."

"No, I could not." Once again, the sharpness in my tone was not meant to harm.

"Did I do something wrong?" The prince questioned worried. "Are you mad?" he got up from his seat and cautiously approached me. "I'm sorry if I-"

I shook my head no. "Don't, you didn't do anything wrong Kíli." I assured him, making a brief pause to give him a reassuring look. "I'm just behind schedule and- it's just a lot, I didn't mean to be rude." I turned to the desk to order the documents and then I stood up, taking them to a separate table. "You should go."

"Why?"

"You're going to distract me." I stated, grabbing a parchment from the floor and laying it on its place.

"But you need company." he protested, following me as I moved around the enormous stance. "Or else you will go crazy."

"Kíli, I'm telling you," I stopped abruptly, making him crash against me, though his hands steadied me before any damage could be done. "it's already too difficult for me to finish on time." I explained, grabbing some misplaced books and moving away.

"You don't have to finish on time." he suggested, still trailing behind me. "Tell your boss that you are not feeling well."

"Kíli I am the boss."

"Oh?" I could see the gears in his mind turning, trying to find an easy way for me to get out of that situation. "Well, tell my brother."

"Your brother has no legal authority whatsoever over this." my reply triggered a sigh in him.

"Tell Thorin."

"I'm not going to tell the King Under the Mountain ." I replied with wide eyes. "Part of my responsibility is being in charge of this so the king– your uncle– doesn't have to worry about it."

"Well then, I'll help you."

"No?"

"Why?" he stepped to be in front of me, shielding me from the shelves. "This is kind of my fault."

"Because you are the prince." I moved past him to get the books I was holding in their respective places. "You have better things to do."

"An example?"

"Prince's things." he let out a snort at my answer. "How am I supposed to know? They are not mine to accomplish."

"A good prince must help his folk."

"A good prince must behave like a prince."

"I behave like a prince."

"You behave like a kid."

"But you love it."

I sighed, going back to my stone table to keep ordering the ancient parchments displayed all over it.

"C'mon." both his hands appeared in front of me, tugging mines and taking them to his lips to plant a sweet kiss on the back of each one. "Let me help, I will be obedient."

"You are a lot of things," I started with a half smile, "but obedient is surely not one."

"For you I will." I scoffed, though his eyes seemed sincere. "I promise, I will do as you say." his head tilted to the side as I weighed his proposal. "I gave you my word, if you don't accept I'll be offended."

"That's emotional blackmail." I pointed out, staring intently into his eyes. "and those puppy dog eyes are too."

"Are they working?" he asked, making a small pout.

"You really are begging to do my work, huh?"

"If doing so spares me more time with you," he gave my hands another tug, leaving our faces way too close. "then yes, I'm begging to do your work."

"You are something else." I whispered, leaning on to give him a kiss, which he happily returned, his fingers no longer interlaced with mines, but pulling me closer to him by my waist.

"So?"

"You can help me." I declared, pulling away from him so I could go back to work. "Why don't you start-" he was now behind me, his hand wrapped around my waist and his lips ghosting over my neck. "See? You're already distracting me." I scolded, subconsciously leaning against him.

"I'm sorry." he apologized softly, moving away to stand besides me. "what do I do then?" he inquired with a smile, which I gladly returned.

We worked all night, falling asleep in that same place and getting just a couple of hours of rest probably, but we finished all the tasks.

A servant accidentally woke us up when he entered the library to carry the documents to Thorin. He didn't say a word when he saw the young prince asleep besides me with our hands held and our heads way to close to each other, and I was thankful for it.

"Thanks for staying." I whispered into his ear, and in response, he leaned on me and tugged my hands to him.

"what time is it?" Kíli grumbled, burying his face on my arm to hide it from the sunlight.

"Time to wake up." I replied. "Unfortunately."

"No, it's time to go to sleep on a proper bed." he stated, his eyes barely open when he got up and dragged me out of the library with him. "C'mon."

"Kíli."

"What? Don't oppose."

I was going to complain but I was exhausted and the thought of falling asleep in an actual bed with the brunet cuddling me was way too appealing.

"I won't."

[buckys-little-hoe]

We’ll meet again | Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Pairing: Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Summary: No matter when and where, you always sing the same song, so your teammates ask themselves why you sing that song. The answer shocks them.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of car accident and death.

A/N: It’s a little bit different from the other things. Hope you’ll still enjoy it! :)

—

You hum a song quietly as you fold your laundry together. You are standing in the laundry room right now because your favorite shirt got dirty. You were walking earlier and Sam had pushed you into the mud. The smell of detergent is in the air. You enjoy the calm, no annoying teammates who put their curious noses into your affairs. You put your cell phone on the dryer and pull the headphones out of your ears. You digress with your thoughts as you put sock after sock together. "Let's say goodbye with a smile, dear. Just for a while, dear. We must part. Don't let this parting upset you. I'll not forget you, sweetheart.” Your voice is gentle and has something mesmerizing.

Bucky also notices this, sneaking up as always. It is a habit that he cannot take off. That's why you don't notice him. Once again, the former assassin is grateful for his quiet steps. "We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.” Without any worries you continue singing while he leans against the bare wall with a smile. He knows the song, he is sure of it. When he went to war, his colleagues with a relationship had been serenaded by their girlfriends. It was comforting if someone would not return. Quite sad actually, the more he thought about it. "Keep smiling through. Just like you always do. ‘Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away." You put your shirt in the basket and pick it up. When you turn around, you almost get a heart attack.

Bucky stands before you with a bright smile. "I like your voice, doll," he says with honesty and your cheeks turn red. Oh god, that’s embarrassing. The thoughts shoot through your head. "Uh ... thanks Bucky," you reply shyly and disappear through the open door.

—

"So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know. Tell them I won't be long. They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go. I was singing this song.” Your voice echoes through the ventilation shafts. Clint lies on the cool metal and listens to your voice with his eyes closed. You are taking a shower and Clint was actually on the way to his hidden nest, but your singing stopped him. You would never find out that he had been listening. What did the archer have to lose? It's not the first time he's eavesdropping on his teammates. But with you, there is something else. He just can't stop listening. Your voice expresses so much sadness and hope that he can only wonder what had happened. Why do you sing it with so much feeling? But right now he's just enjoying the song. He doesn't know it. It sounds older. He likes the text.

"We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day. “, You sing with your eyes closed. The water runs over your naked body and the heat loosens a few knots. You take the shower so warm that even the window and mirror are fogged up. Will the pain go away at some point?

-

"So you want please say hello. To the folks that I know. Tell them I won't be long. They'll be happy to know. That as you saw me go. I was singin 'this song.” You stand with your back to your teammates. You're preparing dinner tonight. Your friends are all sitting in the living room.

"I love her voice, but why does she always sing the same song?" Steve asks after a pleasant silence in which they could only hear your singing.

"I thought only I have noticed." Sam shrugs. Natasha rolls her eyes and pushes him off the couch. Bucky looks at her gratefully and she gives him two thumbs up.

“Maybe you just have to make wishes like to the DJ," Tony sarcastically puzzles. Now everyone is rolling their eyes in annoyance.

"I assume it's Lady Y/N's favorite song," Thor intervenes. Wanda nods in agreement.

"We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day. “ You finish the song quietly and add the sauce to the noodles.

"Maybe she has a deeper connection to the song," Bruce says. Tony shakes his head.

"I think you are interpreting too much into it, Dr. Banner. “, Vision says and everyone is muttering now.

"The food is ready!" You call with a smile and interrupt the discussion. Everyone gets up and goes into the dining room. After eating, everyone stays seated with a full belly. It is exceptionally quiet. This almost never happens when all Avengers are present.

"Y/N, we wanted to ask you something," Natasha says after a moment's hesitation. Your heart stops. Did you do something wrong? Didn't it taste good?

"Yes?" You try to keep your nervous tremors under control and you can do it.

"Why do you always sing the same song?" Clint asks, falling into the house with the door. You sigh quietly and try to smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. Your heart weighs heavily and you blink the tears away.

“Back then I was in the car with my parents on the way to school. Unlike any other day, my mother went with us because my father wanted to drive her to the doctor who was on the way. Vera Lynn’s We’ll meet again was playing on the radio. I was angry with my parents because I was afraid to be late to school. My father wanted to drive her there anyway.” You take a deep breath. It's okay, you can do it. You can talk about it. "So we were arguing. My father stopped concentrating on the street and we got involved in an accident. The song didn't stop playing. Unfortunately, I did not pass out. Instead, I heard the song and saw my dead parents for about five minutes.” You finish your story and look into the faces of your comrades. During your story, the color was gone from their faces. Clint regrets asking. "The song helps me to remember that I'll see them again someday. That at some point I will have the chance to apologize. “, You explain.

Bucky, who is sitting next to you, takes your hand into his and squeezes it once. "They forgave you long ago, I'm sure of that," Thor says with an encouraging smile. He too had lost his mother after an argument. If anyone can empathize with the pain, it's him.

"It'll get easier," Steve assures you.

He's right. It will get easier. It just takes time.

[acommonloon]

It's Saturday and I'm just sitting here...not watching the wheels go round and round...can't see that from here. wish you were here.

I can tell a green field and blue skies from grey yet I'm still riding on that merry go round. The one you can't let go because it's the only one.

LIfe is good especially compared to the alternative! I listen to folks complain about current circumstances and while I get things could be better, usually are better, I don't have to imagine very hard to know things could be worse. Almost certainly will be worse eventually, so I try hard to appreciate how good things are in the moment.

The world from where I'm sitting isn't green but it isn't storming or freezing. If I chose, I could go out for a walk or a drive. I'm alone but if I craved human contact I could text, call, skype, or even visit with someone. Bars are back open so if I chose I could enjoy the company of strangers which to me is often more satisfying than those I know too well. Instead I "Dear Tumblr." Since Wednesday night D has been away at her sister's helping care for her mom.

Her mom is our last living parent and to be completely honest, it will be somewhat of a relief when the prolonged ailments of parents no longer weigh on our lives. I get the horrific nature of that statement. Perhaps something is wrong with me to feel so callous but I am reconciled I can only feel how I feel. Previously, none of our parents died peacefully/considerately in their sleep. Although my dad expired sitting on the toilet, minutes after I delivered him home from his last hospital stay. The humor that Rodinian vision provides me goes long towards muting the innumerable hours/days of stress we/his family experienced for more than two decades.

I am not rooting for my MIL's demise. I hope she outlives me. While I don't miss my parents and won't miss her mom when she's gone, D will miss her in a way I can (barely) comprehend. D's happiness is mine so.

Again, being honest, I resent D isn't here now. I believe she is where she needs to be and that's where I want her to be but I wish she was here.

[johnmarstoned]

Request for shameless smut but fluff with Arthur and a fem!reader? Like she comes back to camp after a mission and he just takes her away so he can have full privacy and do whatever they want? I'm a thirsty bitch sorry 😅

My blog is a safe space for thirsty bitches, trust me. 

(and jesus christ i’m sorry i’m allergic to being like… brief… i always get carried away)

There’s nothing like riding back into camp with a sack full of money on the back of your horse, getting cheered by the camp and a pat on the head from Dutch.

It had been my mission, hitting a caravan of a few coaches heading from Saint Denis to Rhodes and carrying a bunch of rich folk in them, and it had gone smooth as can be. I’m red faced, excited and still pumping with adrenaline when I arrive back with Lenny, Sean and John, still surprised we’d made such a good team, being the young ones of the group. It had been quite a take, and no one had got too badly hurt, either.

But it had meant a few days away from camp, staking out the route and the people they’d be robbing, spending a little time in Saint Denis and a little camped out in the Bayou (which I truly hated and will not do again for a million dollars).

So we ride back into Clemens Point that evening triumphant and pleased with ourselves.

“That is what I like to see.” Dutch claps my back when I drop off his share of the cash at his tent, and I smile and appreciate the kudos I get from the rest of the gang too. “Calls for a celebration, don’t you think? Mr Pearson! Hand round some bottles of whiskey, would you?”

“Of course!” He calls.

“Molly, put a record on, my dear.” He instructs, and my eyes are already scanning the group for the only person whose attention I really want, not spotting him.

“You gotta bring me along next time.” Karen catches me by the arm and presses a bottle into my hands. “Sounds like fun, and I lord knows I wouldn’t mind that kinda cash.”

“Sure, Karen, have you seen-”

“Did you see that fuckin’ toff try and get me mouth when I told him to empty his pockets?” Sean puts his arm over my shoulder, still hyped up, and guides me over to the fire with him where people are already singing and chugging. “Gave him a right ol’ bust lip, I did.”

“I saw it, Sean.” I say, slightly impatient, because why hasn’t he come to see me yet? I stand on my tiptoes and try to look over to his tent.

“Arthur’s up the way a bit fishin’.” Abigail holds my elbow to catch my attention, and I sigh and smile gratefully at her knowing expression.

“Thank you.” I say and squeeze her arm. “Was starting to think he’d lost interest.”

“Oh, never.” Abigail chuckles. “He won’t be best happy he wasn’t here to welcome you back.”

Relieved, I slip away from the merriment to where I know he’ll be, just outside of camp down by the shore. It’s best to fish at this time of the evening, and I know he does it when I’m out on the job, keeps him calm, he says.

I spot him just ahead of me quickly, back to me, broad shouldered and tall, horse beside him, and I take a little breath, because it’s always so sweet to come back to him.

“Caught anything?” I ask, and sidle up to him, he turns when he hears my voice, and I see his chest fall in a breath that looks like relief.

“Someone was supposed to come get me when you got back.” He says, and spools up his fishing rod, closing it and replacing it in his pack.

“Well, I’m back.” I shrug as he approaches me, and he puts his hands on my shoulders before he’ll hold me properly, giving me a once over.

“It all go okay?” He asks.

“Yes.”

“Anyone die?”

“No.”

“You hurt?”

“Not a scratch.”

It’s the same conversation, the same routine every time I get done with a mission.

“There’s blood on ya.” He swipes his thumb across my chin, and I remember I had felt a little fleck there before.

“Not mine.” I shrug. “Mouthy bastard didn’t wanna part with his pocket watch.”

He smiles at me a little then, his eyes crinkle with it, and he takes my waist and kisses me good and thorough, and I sigh into his mouth and hold his arms. “That’s my girl.” He murmurs against my lips.

I never get tired of hearing him say that.

“Missed you.” I tell him, holding him tight as he loops his arms around my waist and pulls me to him so he can bury his face in my neck and press little kisses there. He’s soft, for one so big and tough, and I can’t help but smile knowing I’m the only one that gets to see that.

“Missed you too, sweetheart, somethin’ awful.”

I can’t help but tease him. “That why I can feel something other than your cattleman poking at me?”

He huffs out a little chuckle against my neck and pulls back to look at me.

“S’been a while, for us, anyway.”

“I know, trust me.” And it has, I’m already feeling starved of his body on me and in me. “Let’s go back to my tent, there’s a party but we can be quiet.” I take his hand and tug him away from the shore, but he doesn’t move, pulling me back.

“Don’t wanna be quiet.” He says simply, looking at me in that way that makes me shiver.

“Me neither, but we don’t have much of a choice.”

He looks at me for a moment like he’s considering something, then up at his horse.

“You got another ride in you?”

I cock my head, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Depends where to.”

“Saint Denis.” He says, and pulls me a little closer to him again. “That fancy ol’ room above the saloon with proper silk sheets, specifically.”

I shudder to think of it, four walls and a roof, a locked door, a big bed, with Arthur.

“Oh, I’m sure I can manage that ride.”

And he wastes no time getting up on his horse and helping me on behind him, and I giggle at the fast pace he sets, booking it through the more unsettling parts of the swamps given that it’s getting dark. I just hold onto his sides, and let myself feel hot with anticipation at what’s about to happen.

It’s completely night by the time we get into the city and inside the saloon, so it’s busy, lively, and boozy, and nobody really looks twice at me in my dirty trousers and battered shirt, sweating a little from the journey and eagerly waiting for Arthur to pay for the room.

Soon as that door closes, he has me up against it, kissing me deep and with tongue, this time, catching me round the backside to hitch my legs around his waist, so I can feel his erection pressing insistently against me.

Usually, I’d want a wash first, but it feels about right for me to be still a little dirty and sweaty, like I’m celebrating my victory in this post primal way I can, like some kind of warrior returning from battle.

Arthur’s strength never fails to turn me on so incredibly, holding me there with his thighs like I weigh nothing to him, and ripping open my shirt so buttons spray across the room so he can kiss and lick at my breasts like he hasn’t seen them so many times before. All I can do is moan delightedly, feeling a pulse between my legs, and hold onto his head.

“Goddamn beautiful.” He mumbles, and sets me down on my feet, to untuck my ruined shirt the rest of the way and get it off my arms. I take the initiative when he does, pulling off his neckerchief and unfastening his shirt buttons with haste so I can feel the skin of his stomach and chest. All thick muscle and boundless strength.

And I’m getting excited, and breathless, so I don’t bother pushing his shirt off, instead unsnapping the clips of his suspenders, and working on getting his trousers open so I can finally get my hand around that cock I’ve been thinking about for days. He hisses a breath through his teeth when I stroke him, and I watch is face close, tongue between my teeth, when I move my hand up and down on him.

“You might wanna stop that.” He says, voice rough as he gently catches my wrist and moves it away. “Ain’t gonna last long with you lookin’ at me like that.”

I smile to myself, ears humming already with excitement, and push his shoulder a little to get him to sit down on the bed. He smiles up at me from there, hands flexing on his knees, he watches me peel off my saddle pants, and my underthings, until I’m naked in front of him.

“You’re somethin’…” He says, and his hands round my ass and pull me to stand right in front of him. He presses kisses down my stomach and bends to kiss the hair between my legs too.

“I’m ready for you, Arthur.” I say, breathy, and he smirks up at me just a little, eyes sparkling in the candlelight, and reaches his hands between my legs to feel for himself, slipping a finger between my folds and finding me slick.

“God, that for me?” He asks it with a tone half teasing, half in genuine disbelief. I’ve never met a man more blind to his own beauty in my life.

“Always.” I bend down to pull off his boots for him, his hands running over my body wherever they can reach, and then his pants follow, which I drop on the ground with the rest of our clothes. When he’s finally naked, I sit on his broad thighs and kiss him again, never wanting to detach from his mouth.

He lays me down on the bed, head on the pillow, and I can’t believe how soft and luscious the sheets feel against my skin, especially compared to the wools and furs we usually sleep under.

“I missed you on top of me.” I sigh and hitch a leg around his hip. “Wish you could be inside of me all the time.”

“Christ.” Arthur groans at that, and positions the tip of his cock at my entrance. I can feel it slick and weeping already, and he plants his elbows under my armpits and lets me hold onto his thick biceps before he pushes inside me, all the way to the hilt.

“Ah! Mmm, yes, Arthur.” I whimper, feeling so hot and fulfilled and relieved to have him fill me up.

It makes me reconsider everything, when we do this, when he moans aloud and furrows his brow as he pushes in and out of me, makes me think I could be a wife and a mother, and take care of a homestead, as long as I had him coming home and doing this to me every night, as long as I had him smiling at me and calling me his girl.

My fingers dig into his skin as he fucks me, both vocalising our enjoyment as much as we want without fear of one of the gang wolf-whistling and shaking the canvas. The bed is creaking under the motion, the sound of skin hitting skin cuts through the room, and my noises of pleasure reach a fever pitch when he puts a hand on the headboard and cants my hips up further so he can pound into me as hard as he can.

“Ohhh, goddamn, Arthur.” My eyes shut, and I hear him make a grunt of effort.

“You feel like a dream.” He murmurs, his voice rumbles through me. “Feel like nothin’ else, sweetheart.”

I can’t vocalise a response, because one of his hands holding my hips moves down so he can thumb my clit as he moves inside of me, and that’s it, I’m done. With an almost shout, my back bows and my orgasm rattles through me suddenly, electrifyingly, making my heel dig into his thigh and my nails scratch his arm.

“Arthur…” I whimper, riding it out, and wriggling while his hands hold me still and he doesn’t let up his pace, sounding like he’s enjoying it as much as I am.

“Yes, just like that, girl.” And that term of endearment shakes me again, gasping as I open my eyes to watch him duck his head, that expression on his face that tells me he’s going to come soon.

“Give it to me, Arthur.” I hold his face and pull him down to kiss me, pushing my tongue into his mouth. “I love you so much.”

And that does it, he makes a rough noise that comes from his chest, and pushes inside me deep when he comes. He kisses me desperately, and his hips move just a little as he gives me everything he has and the muscles of his stomach jump with it. I hold him tight to me through it, feeling the bone deep desire to have him fill me with his spend, knowing it’s foolish when we live like we do.

“Shit.” He curses when it’s finally over, panting against me and dropping his weight onto me a little. And lord, he’s heavy.

It’s nice though, the press of his sweaty skin against mine and even the feel of him softening inside me before he pulls out with a hitched breath and drops onto his back.

Bones feeling like jelly, I finally close my knees and curl up to his side, resting my chin on his chest. He pulls me up to him and holds my lower back, fingers drawing little circles there. I’m still pulsing with aftershocks between my legs, and I can’t help but look at his cock, big and thick, half hard, resting on his stomach. He is something else. 

“We don’t have to go back to camp yet, do we?” I ask, and peck his skin.

“Paid for the night.” He says, still stroking me languidly. “Plan to get our money’s worth.”

“Good.” I smile, and reluctantly slip away from him. “I’m gonna have to ask one of the working girls to draw me a bath though, before I do anything else.”

He nods, and watches me slip off the bed and stretch out my arms, taking in my body.

“Love you too, by the way.” He refers back to me saying it before, hand resting across his stomach and looking like he should be painted. “You know that.”

“I do.” I tell him, because he never lets me doubt it for a second.

[spiritroots]

Hi.I have a bit of a sensitive question. I'm a white girl who was adopted by a black family when I was a baby, my mom said she saw me and instantly knew I was meant to be hers. I grew up with rootwork in the house, my grandmother taught me all that I know about rootwork and life in general. However since coming onto Tumblr, I feel like I can't carry on with the traditions I was brought up with because of my skin colour. Any advice? I understand if it's too much of a sensitive question. Thanks❤️

Hey there! I’m sorry that you’re in this situation because it’s definitely a difficult one, and I think it’s good that you reached out about it. I’ve spent my morning thinking on this and asking friends and researching transracial adoption… and to be honest I’ve realized that I don’t think I have enough intimate knowledge of the complexities of transracial adoptions to answer this adequately. I have four different members of my family who were adopted, but I was not adopted and don’t have a deep understanding of that experience. 

I’m gonna share some of my honest thoughts about hoodoo, ancestry, and race, but I don’t think I have a definitive answer for you on exactly what to do.

I’ve included my thoughts below the keep reading line, but I ask other black rootworkers - especially anyone with an understanding of transracial adoption to also join in on the conversation and share some insight.

I was always taught across Africana traditions and hoodoo that having black ancestry is a fundamental part of the practice. It’s in your blood and bones, it’s in your DNA, it’s how you channel and tap into your wisdom and the juju of an unbroken lineage of ancestors going back through slavery and back across the waters to West Africa where these traditions have their origins. Beyond just cultural appropriation (which matters too on a different level), there’s also that blood ancestry aspect that to me is a tradition-level inherent reason why non-black folks (people without any African descent) simply can’t practice hoodoo no matter how hard they may try to.

You said you feel like you can’t practice because of your skin color, but I have white skin too. The difference is that I’m white passing, not white. We may both appear white to most people, but when I take a DNA test, my African ancestry sure does show up next to my European ancestry. I am biracial. We both have black family - and they are your family as much as mine is my family - but you are still white because that doesn’t change your race. Just like a black kid adopted into a white family would still be black - not white.

To me where this gets extra confusing is that since they are your family and they chose to teach you… I mean those are your family traditions too, and while you’re still white, having a black family means that black culture may be a part of your culture too. This is where this question gets into the transracial adoption territory beyond my experience and knowledge. You probably have a special and unique relationship to black culture that other white people don’t have because of your transracial adoption, and that’s an amazing thing. I respect that and it was your grandma’s choice to teach you hoodoo. 

No one can take those experiences or that bond away from you with your family and with your upbringing. I just urge you to understand the privileges you have as a white person. Many of those privileges overlap with the ones I have as a white passing person. Our white skin and appearance mean we are favored by society over our families in soooooo many ways more than we can fathom or imagine even when we try to grasp it. We don’t have to be afraid of cops in the same way as our family members do. I don’t know what it’s like to actually be adopted, but people have assumed that I am more often than not. 

We have many of the same privileges and possibly even some of the same challenges as white-looking people in black families, but racially we are not the same. You also have different challenges than me a person who was transracially adopted, but you have different privileges as a white person too. I think these differences are extremely important for you to understand when looking at how you engage with black culture. It’s a part of your family and your cultural upbringing, but it’s not your race, which is something that goes beyond skin color when it comes to being black in the US.

From a young age, my mom made sure I knew that I was biracial black, and that has been a part of my heritage and life experience in terms of who I am knowing that my white passing privileges can be stripped away any time because I’m not actually white. I proudly choose to identify as biracial even when it means people laughing at me not believing it because it’s not something I can change - it’s who I was born as.

You were born the way you are too, and like I’ve said you also have your own and unique experiences because of that. And unfortunately, you’re in very very difficult to navigate waters as a result of it all. I wish I could tell you the best way to navigate that and where are the “lines” are, but truthfully I don’t know because I don’t know exactly what or how your grandma taught you or what her thoughts are on the whole ancestry aspect. I don’t fully know how cultural appropriation applies in the complex situation of transracial adoption. That’s why I put so much emphasis just now on the race piece - the one thing I do know, is that regardless of everything else, you are white. 

So while I may not be able to give exact advice about what to do or what not to do, I strongly urge you to remember that and understand that your identity and life experience, as well as your connection to these traditions and culture, is fundamentally different than it is for us black folks. You don’t have a birthright to it in the way that we do, yet it is a part of your family traditions and culture. I don’t know what that means for you, but I do think that it’s essential for you to try to understand as much as possible as you figure out what to do going forward.

I hope this helps, and I also urge you to listen to what other black folks have to say if anyone else weighs in on it. Please do NOT listen to the opinions of anyone who isn’t black about this matter… they really don’t get a say about it.

[pickledchickenetti]

(pt 1) I'm a woman and am happily married to another woman and I don't understand why everyone was so upset at Krista. She openly supports marriage equality and has defended it. She has close LGBT friends (I know having black friends doesn't make you not racist but in my experience people that have been opposed to my sexual orientation stop being friends with me) and advocates for LGBT persons to be included in the church and conservatives to accept us.

Hi friend, thanks for your thoughts! I don’t know your background, so I hope that my answer doesn’t come across as condescending or rude as that is certainly not my intention. My opinions on Krista’s stance on gay issues are strongly colored by my experiences, which I have no problem admitting. I’m sure plenty of other LGBT folks have different feelings, which is totally fine. For what it’s worth, I saw more people upset with Krista over her posts about abuse victims not remarrying after a divorce than I have over any of the LGBT posts she’s made, but I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t regularly made critical comments about her LGBT posts/stances here. 

In order to be fair to her, I decided to go back through her blog (on Tumblr, not her other blog) and re-read her posts on gay issues in order to make sure that I’m not taking other people’s comments about her or vague memories I have of old posts and projecting my own frustrations with other conservative Christians’ opinions onto Krista.. I’m going to do my best to source anything I reference via links to that post, but I apologize if I miss anything. 

I will also be focusing on issues regarding people who are sexually attracted to the same sex (using the blanket term of “gay”, which also represents bi/pan/etc.) for this post. I am cis myself, and your question references your same-sex relationship and family, so in this case it feels appropriate to stay in my lane and not offer opinions on a cis person’s stances on gender issues as another cis person. I do not mean to exclude gender nonconforming people from the overall LGBT community in any way. 

The oldest about posts I can find from Krista about anything gay-related are anons asking her opinions. I’m fairly sure that this is the first one, where she essentially gives a fairly neutral action that could be interpreted as “I don’t think being gay sends you to hell” or as “I think gay people can go to heaven too as long as they repent of that sin along with the others”. She does not make it clear what her opinion on same-sex attraction specifically is, as another anon then pointed out in this post. Does her tone in addressing the anon bother me? Yes. Does she have the right to call out people she feels are being rude to her? Also yes. 

Early on in the post she says “First, you missed out on a lot of people. It’s actually LGBTQIAAP.” (likely referencing the anon saying LGBTQIA), and it’s just a personal pet peeve of mine for straight people to try to act like they have any authority on things like the acronym, but I realize that that’s just me and she also has no way of knowing the anon’s sexuality so perhaps it was one straight person (sarcastically) informing another straight person of a perceived shortcoming. Perhaps not. She then goes on to defend her refusal to give a “straightforward answer” by, in my opinion, continuing to dodge the question. 

Further down she brags that she “was actually named best advocate at a national moot court competition this past year arguing that Title VII protects against sexual orientation discrimination”. Now maybe I’m wrong, but it’s my understanding that moot courts aren’t typically events where you’re expected to defend your own personal beliefs, but events where you are assigned a stance and have to argue it regardless of what you believe. If that’s the case, mentioning that is irrelevant. If it is not the case and she was able to choose that stance, bragging about it for some sort of ally point is, in my opinion, arrogant. 

She ends the post by saying that her LGBT friends “are entitled to all of the rights, privileges, and safeties that I enjoy as a straight woman. Who you love and who you’re attracted to does not change your place in society or the rights that you have or opportunities you should be able to pursue.” Sure, your sexual orientation SHOULDN’T change your place in society or your rights, but it DOES. It absolutely does, and to say that LGBT folks are entitled to the same rights as straight women is, at best, misguided. Krista is a lawyer who has, in theory, interacted with multiple members of the LGBT community, so she should realize that regardless of what should or shouldn’t be true, LGBT still DON’T have the same rights as her in many states, and even in states where legally we have the same rights we still live with fears she will never experience. 

As for the claim that Krista is “not only tolerant of my family but accepting” and that she “accepts me and defends my rights”, here are my thoughts. I don’t want to be tolerated. If you’re cool with just being tolerated then more power to you, but as someone who is merely tolerated by a number of Christians, it really hurts and feels extremely de-humanizing. I do feel that “tolerates” is an accurate word for Krista’s stances on gay people (with the possible exception of the gay friends she claims to have). I do not feel that Krista “defends” gay people and our families beyond her belief that she is legally obligated to uphold the law. She has said that she is “totally fine with gay couples adopting”, which is a positive. She has also said she feels families with same-sex couples should be treated like “any other couple”, which again, is a positive. I guess I just don’t feel like that’s the same as defending. She recently admitted that she has never voted for a Democrat, and while I understand why someone from Vermont might see third-party candidates as viable (because in many Vermont races they are), she has to realize that voting third-party for president is throwing away your vote in the current political climate. Beyond voting, what is she actually DOING to “defend” gay people? Nothing she has ever said makes me think she’s using her privilege to truly defend us to her conservative Christian circles. Unless proven otherwise, I can’t help but feel that she’s able to talk a (vague) big game about being supportive without actually doing any supporting. 

I have recently said that it is my belief that she thinks gay sex/acting on same-sex attractions is sinful, even if our marriages should be legal. I will admit that I formed that opinion largely based on a private conversation I had with her, and which I will not share publicly without her permission. In going through old posts, I came across this post, which I feel also supports this opinion. An anon says that they can’t see any good qualities to overcome “when the thing they disagree with is gay rights/gay marriage/that being gay is a sin”, and that they’d “say the same about someone who identified as a Nazi or a white supremacist”. In Krista’s response, she literally says “But, by the same token, you and I are talking right now, and hopefully, I’m not reminding you of a Nazi”. That statement seems to imply that she falls into at least one of those categories or else why would she remind the anon of a Nazi? In another post she also says that “I do believe that all people are responsible for their sexual BEHAVIOR”, which seems to imply that there is something sinful about sexual behavior between people of the same sex. 

If we want to get down to it, this is the post that was the cause of my initial feeling that Krista was not a safe person for gay people. If someone asks you if you think being LGBTQ+ is a sin and your answer is to tell them they are trying to “stir division”, it is only fair to assume that you think they won’t like your answer. If I ask someone their belief on that subject, I am asking because I want to know their opinion. This anon echoes the same sentiment. If she’s really worried about “stirring division” she should have just ignored the question. 

To anyone still reading at this point, thanks for sticking it out with me. Honestly Krista’s recent posts (paired with some events in my life offline) have really got me thinking, and I have a lot of things weighing on me. I’m glad that you are able to feel that as long as she believes you deserve the same rights as she does it’s fine. I hope you continue to feel safe in that. Unfortunately, many of us aren’t that lucky. Many of us have lived too much of our lives feeling disgusting and broken and worthless because of teachings that that same God she worships and we were brought up to worship disapproves not only of any relationships we have, but of an inherent part of who we are. The biggest reason that I continue to speak out against Krista’s posts is because I just need any scared or confused young gay teenagers in the church to know that they don’t have to settle for being tolerated, and no matter who thinks they’re sinning, they’re not. 

Krista’s posts (in the context of the rest of the blog) would have devastated me at one time in my life. When I speak out against them, I’m usually saying the sorts of things I wish someone would have said to me then.