#it’s a lengthy one folks

[questwithambition]

Little life update

The past couple of weeks have been… rough over here but I’m finally on the other side of the hill

To start off I sprained my knee after it being ok for a year which was honestly devastating

(To put in context I do 6-8 dance classes a week + gym 3ish times a week + flexibility training)

So I was a bit lost without that routine. I also felt like shit because I couldn’t move, and I was struggling to sleep and focus because exercise - especially dance - is something I find hugely grounding. My eating habits were also… dubious (I think I’ve consumed more chocolate in the past week than I have in the past month)

To top this off my laptop simply stopped turning on. I’ve tried to get it to repairs but they simply can’t figure out what it is and why it only intermittently turns on.

Which has meant a lot of wasted time go in and out of city centre trying to get people to look at it, and also means I cannot get any work done at home, having to use a uni computer

Which isn’t the end of the world as I’m in there a lot, but combined with the difficulty to focus and the added constant anxiety (some other small stuff also going on in the background), it means that it’s been difficult to just keep up with uni.

BUT I’ve made it to reading week and have come home for a short week. I’m already feeling calmer being in a more quiet environment (sans messy flatmates)

Tomorrow morning, I’m planning to head out for a long walk in the hills. No matter the weather (I will be taking wellies). I’m so excited, I feel like this is exactly what my brain needs

And my knee is finally mostly ok, so I’m going to use this week to get back in the grove of things

I think the most difficult thing about this was that I was genuinely thriving before, my dance skills had improved massively, I’m stronger and healthier than I’d ever been, uni work was going well and I’m more confident and outgoing than I’ve ever been. I felt as if 7 year old me would look up to me. And then the rug felt a bit pulled from under my feet. But recognising that it’s all part of life, and I’m still that same person who will always try her best.

ALSO I’ve made friends with the cleaner and the barista at the uni cafe and it makes me day. I look forward to our chats every morning and it’s so wonderful to be excited about saying hi to someone

[myreia]

Why is it that whenever I have an unintentional nap it always makes me grumpy. Or amplifies any previous grumpiness by 1000%. And then I see something on my dash that is completely unrelated to the thing that I'm annoyed about and then that unrelated thing annoys me and the grumpiness is amplified by another 1000%...

[shrenvents]

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

Part two

[trans-androgyne]

Radical feminism cannot ever be trans-inclusive.

Why do I keep saying this? Because I have increasingly been seeing transmasc and transfem folks weaponize radical feminist ideas against each other and I am tired of it.

(TL;DR at the end, I know this is lengthy.)

So, what is radical feminism and how does it differ from other kinds of feminism? It’s the idea that patriarchy is the primary root oppression from which all other oppression spawns. It holds that the two primary classes are men/males and women/females, and that men are responsible for creating and maintaining all oppression, with women playing a more passive, secondary role. We're off to a bad start already; this is an inherently racist framework that absolves privileged women of their role in creating and upholding oppression, as the idea is that if women ran the world oppression would not exist. Intersectional feminism, on the other hand, understands the way many forms of oppression are rooted in racism, and that all systems of oppression are interconnected without having one singular root.

The way it functions and its prescribed remedies rely on the idea of a sisterhood--all women/females are connected with each other against men/males. The common belief is that males as the more powerful* class will always try to oppress women unless women band together against them and intervene. Men are framed as the enemy to be fought, not potential allies to be recruited into feminism.

Many of us have an idea of traditional cis radical feminism and how that leads to TERFism. But how does it function in the trans community? For radical feminism to work, a "sister" class oppressed by misogyny and an enemy class causing it must be identified. Radfem trans women will say that their identity as women means they experience the worst misogyny--trans men and mascs just get the weaker "misdirected" version, and in fact have a motive to uphold misogyny due to their identification with manhood*. Trans men are the enemy class that oppresses trans women. Radfem trans men will say that people afab are the real class that experiences the worst misogyny due to their ability to give birth*--while trans women and fems as people amab* are more aligned with cis men due to having received male privilege and been "socialized male" in addition to not having the same reproductive capabilities*. Trans women are the enemy class that oppresses trans men.

Both of these notions rely on painting groups of trans people as having access to patriarchal power they do not. They downplay the way misogyny functions in the lives of the perceived patriarchal class of trans people. It inherently ignores the real experiences of trans people and paints some of them as an enemy class; it cannot ever be truly inclusive of all trans people. Intersectional transfeminism would take into account the way misogyny functions in the oppression of all trans people, and analyze the material conditions of trans folks to reveal that no group of them is granted access to patriarchal power and cis male privilege. It means banding together as a unified trans community and understanding where our experiences are shared, as well as accounting for the way other systems of oppression critically shape the lives of trans people of color, disabled trans people, intersex trans people, and other groups.

*There are a lot of assumptions present in this analysis like the assumed agabs and reproductive abilities of trans men and women; these are not my beliefs but the oversimplifications espoused by the radfems I'm describing.

TL;DR: Radical feminism requires identifying one class as the patriarchal oppressors and the other as the oppressed victims. In the "trans-inclusive" version, this means downplaying the experiences with misogyny of either trans men and mascs or trans women and fems. It identifies either transmisogyny or "afabmisogyny" as the real root of all oppression, ignoring the voices and experiences of the most marginalized trans people. Truly inclusive transfeminism would unite all trans people against the patriarchy instead of falsely implicating us in it.

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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[sindar-princeling]

LOTR Newsletter 3 Shire Drift - FAQ

Hello everyone!

Just like last year: for those of you who are already familiar with The Lord of the Rings Newsletter, this serves as an announcement that I'm doing it again; and for those who aren't - an introduction to the project :)

What is LOTR Newsletter?

I'm one of the people who subscribed to Dracula Daily in May 2022, and immediately thought, "Hey, I can do this too but with XYZ!" - XYZ being The Lord of the Rings. Because the events of LOTR also have specific dates ascribed to them, we're gonna be reading LOTR as it happened.

When does it take place?

Because of the way the beginning of LOTR is structured (read: because I don't want to leave six-month-long breaks between the first entries), we're gonna start on September 15th - a week before September 22nd, when the main events start to take place. It's also the publishing date of the Silmarillion, but that's just a fun fact for my own enjoyment.

From September 15th to September 19th, we'll read the prologue, and the fragments preceding Frodo's departure from the Shire. From September 20th, we'll be reading according to the dates in the book until April 8th. Then we'll be reading last parts of the book - which are stretched over a long time - once a week, to once again avoid lengthy breaks in delivery.

The Newsletter will last from September 15th to May 26th.

Where do I go if I want to post/talk about something related to the Newsletter with other readers?

We discuss current (and not only current) entries in the #lotr newsletter tag, and we have a Discord server set by the amazing @k-she-rambles! (I really hope this time I managed to generate a link that never expires...)

How do I subscribe?

Since the original platform I was using (TinyLetter) was shut down halfway through the second year of the newsletter, I had to figure out an alternative way to execute this project.

For the lovely people who joined the last edition of the newsletter, just a short announcement - I weighed all the pros and cons and decided to continue carrying out the newsletter the way I did after TinyLetter shut down.

For the new folks, a lengthier explanation: check out this post if you want to learn the details, but long story short: I can't send the newsletter as e-mails anymore, so instead I decided to provide you with a ready copy of the entire thing. I prepared formatted copies of the whole newsletter - September 15th to May 26th - as an .odt file, as a .pdf file, and most importantly as an .epub file, because I assume most of you are reading on your phones (if you don't already have an .epub reader, I use FBReader, and everything worked fine on my phone). At the beginning you'll find the whole table of contents with hyperlinks, so the navigation inside the document should be easy!

The MEGA folder can be accessed right here, and it's available for everyone!

In the folder linked, you'll also find a calendar file made by @none-ofthisnonsense that you can download on your phone and import into your calendar app so that all days when we read are marked in your calendar!

If you want to receive notifications about when there is an entry to read, you can also follow @is-today-a-lotr-newsletter-day and turn on notifications! This is a blog created solely for notifying you all when we're reading a new fragment of the newsletter, so all notifications you'll get will be about new entries, and nothing more. The notifications are meant to be the equivalent of sending e-mails.

Anything else I should know?

Please don't rat me out to Tolkien Estate/j, and have fun reading!

(And as a PS.: Thank you very much if you join - or join again! Last year was very tumultuous because of all the changes in the format, and I know the new way is not for everyone - but introducing more changes again felt like once more creating new chaos, so I decided to stick to a solution that mostly worked. I hope you understand!)

See you on September 15th!

[infernalwitxhcraft]

All About: House Spirits

Well, it's about time I brought them up once again, in their own post. This guide may be on the lengthy side, but it's here to explain what they are and how to begin working with them.

What the hell is a house spirit?

House spirits come from all different cultures and folklore. Known as, you guessed it, guardians of the home. They protect the house itself, the land around it (they get along with the land spirit(s) most of the time), and they also protect the family if treated right. A home certainly doesn't feel like one without these presiding spirits helping. In fact it gives the home a life of it's own.

What do they look like? Are there types?

Across many cultures, there are these spirits and the folklore varies for each. In my tribe, we consider them to usually be little dwarves or goblins that must be appeased, otherwise they will cause bad luck or even resort to curses. Regular offerings are required. Then there are the land spirits, which is a whole other topic. If given regular offerings and respect, we believe that they will not only generate good luck and events for us, but protect us and help with our daily lives. For the witches of the tribe, they will often assist in rituals and spells. That all being said, this has carried over into my personal beliefs. Many cultures describe house spirits assisting with the same things and if they are displeased, bad occurrences following. As far as looks go, it depends on the folklore surrounding your area and your cultural background(s). You may believe in one or two types or an entire spectrum of house spirits from the realm of the fair folk. You could have one house spirit or twelve. It's entirely up to your home. In some cultures, there are door spirits (yes, that guard the doors) and ones that work in the kitchen, among others for different functions of the home.

Okay so, I live in an apartment building. Can I still work with them?

Yes. When I used to live in apartments, I found it was an either/or situation regarding how many were there. Some buildings have only a few that roam around, sometimes only one that protects the entire building, or there may be multiple hanging out in one apartment. Most complexes have multiple however. And then for the lucky buildings that have one for each apartment...those are nice. I've included a short offering ritual at the end of this post, which you can use to ask questions about whatever you wish to know, including how many there are in the building.

What kind of offerings do they like?

Milk, honey, bread, and herbs are a safe bet. They especially like bread baked by you, as they see it as a labor of love and that your energy is in there. Taking time to tend to the garden and taking care of your property & home in general are things they like to see. Don't leave the house a huge mess, as many prefer a tidy atmosphere. Not an offering per say, but important to mention nonetheless.

What should I put on their altar?

I keep my altar for them in the kitchen, as it is in a place that is undisturbed and can't be torn up by my land shark (aka, my dog). I also feel that most of the house spirits I have worked with in my life enjoy hanging out in this area of the home. They seem to like assisting in kitchen magic and cooking in general and the warmth of the stove. You may also want to include a small area near the front door if you believe that there are separate spirits for there. I'd recommend a shelf, as it won't take up as much space in the entryway.

Okay, back on track. Plants (if the space gets enough light), a cauldron, candles, offering bowls, a chalice, glass, or mug of some sort. A special spoon to stir the drinks or potions with. Decorative pieces from nature. Things you craft by hand.

How can I begin working with them?

Anytime, in reality. However, you do have to develop an actual relationship with them. This can take time and the more you speak to them, give offerings, and invite them in as you cook or clean, the more they will be willing to help with your spellwork, wards, and healing. Try the introduction ritual I've included. See what happens. Document it. Try again another time the following week. And just...keep going. Make sure that they know you haven't forgotten about them by leaving a small nightly glass of milk out before you head to bed. It doesn't have to be filled to the rim (hey, cost of living is ridiculous right now). It can be a splash with a squirt of honey added. Or a sprinkle of herbs on their bowl. Or maybe a small helping of what you whipped up for dinner. Point is to show them that you acknowledge and respect their presence. That will be the biggest component. Do the ritual once a week until you start seeing signs of contact. Once you do, make your own ritual with them. Incorporate them into your daily life. Ask them to help with blessing your cooking. Ask them to make sure your wards are in tact. Ask the door spirit to purify the energy of anyone that walks in & make bad people resist coming by. Start seeing if they'd like to sit in on a ritual, if you feel comfortable with that idea. Ask for a blessing when you clean the house & to assist you in removing all the bad energy.

Brief introductory ritual

To introduce yourself to your house spirits, I recommend sitting in your kitchen. If you consider your hearth to be the living room, you can choose to do it there. Make sure to bring offerings with that you feel will be applicable. Freshly baked bread (from your own hands) and some milk with honey stirred in would make a wonderful first treat. I usually introduce myself in a new home by bringing these treats to the location of choice, and start by speaking my intention aloud which goes something like:

"Spirits of the home,

Guardians and Protectors of this dwelling,

Please come sit with me and enjoy these offerings.

I wish to have a working relationship where we can honor, respect, and help each other."

I usually spend about ten-twenty minutes meditating after this is spoken aloud. Sometimes you will feel a strong presence. This is the time I take to set up my kitchen altar as well. If there is a place that I am able to create a mini-altar by the front door, I do so there for the door spirits. The land spirits get their own little thing out in the backyard. I've found in the many places I've lived, they almost always work together and some house spirits spend quite some time out there too!

From here on out, you'll develop your relationship with regular offerings and take it from there!

[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm an A-Level student and so many of my classmates use ChatGPT for essays in Law and RS and stuff - like, they sound proud of themselves, as if they're cheating the system and being clever? Just makes me feel very bleak. What are we doing man

Well, the unfortunate news for them is that they are going to struggle if they make it to uni.

This is the big problem with AI - it cannot analyse a single thing. If I were to say to you "What are the features Tumblr users would most want and why?", you are a human being with a brain and experiences and decision-making skills, and you could probably sit and come up with an answer. You would base that answer on things you personally find lacking, or want to see; you would also base it in things you have seen others bemoaning on the site.

For example, I reckon I'd say something like:

The permanent ability to boop people with a cat paw, which is implemented as opt-in. Also customisable, so you can choose whether you want a random cat paw to appear on your screen each time it happens to you. Also a different animation for super boop/evil boop, and maybe more boop options than those two, and maybe also different paw colours.

Actual enforcement of hate speech rules. We all agree to them when we join, so it's perfectly legal to delete someone for spouting Nazi shit AND YET.

No more banning or censoring queer folks' accounts

More ability to adjust the interface for disabled bloggers, e.g. colour and contrast, font, layout, switching off moving GIFs or other animations by default, etc.

Tag editing, it's frustrating having to delete whole tags.

Tag memory! Where have my tags gone??? For a year now I have slightly better luck on desktop, but for the most part, which of my tags are remembered by autofill and which are never, ever offered to me has been wholly divorced from how often I've used them. And my tags are often lengthy and odd, so it's become much harder to use mobile.

No data scraping. This is the anti-cap site thank you. Also on that note, get rid of the For You section and any other algorithmic tracking, because it's just as likely to show you a Nazi blog as an anti-Nazi one as long as you have spent any time at all discussing Nazism.

Better blocking ability, on that note.

Better search function

I could go on, but you get the idea. That's analysis that I've done, based on discussions I have seen and taken part in, and my own experiences.

I just asked ChatGPT. Here's what it had to say:

"Tumblr users have diverse preferences, but there are several features that many users would likely appreciate: 1. Improved Content Discovery: Tumblr is known for its vast array of content, so improving content discovery mechanisms such as personalized recommendations, trending topics, and enhanced search functionality can help users find more of the content they enjoy. 2. Enhanced Customization Options: Tumblr users value the ability to customize their blogs extensively. Providing more themes, layout options, and customization tools can empower users to express themselves creatively and make their blogs unique. 3. Integration of Multimedia Formats: Tumblr is a platform where users share various types of multimedia content, including images, GIFs, videos, and audio. Enhancing support for different media formats, improving media upload and management features, and optimizing the viewing experience can enhance user engagement. 4. Improved Mobile Experience: Many Tumblr users access the platform via mobile devices. Therefore, optimizing the mobile app for better performance, usability, and feature parity with the desktop version can greatly enhance the user experience. 5. Community Engagement Features: Tumblr has a vibrant community, so features that facilitate interaction among users, such as improved messaging, reblogging, tagging, and commenting functionalities, can foster a sense of community and increase user engagement. 6. Content Moderation Tools: Given the diverse content on Tumblr, providing users with robust content moderation tools, including options for filtering, blocking, and reporting inappropriate content, can help ensure a safer and more enjoyable experience for all users. 7. Monetization Options for Creators: Many Tumblr users are content creators who would appreciate opportunities to monetize their content. Introducing features such as ad revenue sharing, subscription-based content, or integrated e-commerce capabilities can incentivize creators to produce high-quality content and invest more in their Tumblr presence. 8. Accessibility Features: Improving accessibility features such as alt text support for images, screen reader compatibility, and customizable text sizes and color schemes can make Tumblr more inclusive and accessible to users with disabilities. 9. Privacy and Security Enhancements: Enhancing privacy controls, data protection measures, and account security features can help users feel more confident and secure when using the platform, which is especially important given concerns about online privacy and security. 10. API and Third-Party Integration: Opening up Tumblr's API and allowing for easier integration with third-party services and apps can encourage innovation and development within the Tumblr ecosystem, providing users with more options and flexibility in how they use the platform. Overall, focusing on improving content discovery, customization options, community engagement, and user safety while also providing opportunities for creators to monetize their content can help Tumblr retain and attract users in a competitive social media landscape."

It's possible that feels alright, on first glance. But take a closer look.

Every point made is vague, and disconnected from any real life examples. In the very first point, it thinks we want better search functions (yes!) but also more algorithmic recommendations (no!). It wants us to have personalised recommendations AND better security, in fact, which are incompatible - but an LLM doesn't and can't know that. Monetisation of the platform is something that has historically faced appalling backlash from users, and this thing is suggesting ad revenue sharing and subscription services.

Because, its suggestions are generic suggestions. These are not Tumblr-specific. No mention of queerphobia, no mention of Nazis, and absolutely zero understanding of what the specific users on this site actually want.

... all of which is to say...

It's what is academically known as descriptive work. It lays out some facts, but there's no depth, no analysis, no interpretation of those facts at all. Why would we want third party integration? What apps are we calling for? Give examples. Would that aid ad-blocking? Search functions? In that case, wouldn't third-party integration be tackling the symptoms and not the cause? Shouldn't we work better ad-blocking and search functions into Tumblr at a base level?

And in school - even up to A Level - that's okay. You won't get top marks for that, because it's all too vague and too descriptive, but it's fine. School-level assignments tend to be more broad and less applied, too, which LLMs fare better with.

But in university, you start with descriptive facts, and then you are expected to analyse. If you cannot analyse, you run a very real risk of failing. Which means if you've spent your GCSEs and A Levels not bothering to learn those analytical skills and letting ChatGPT do the work for you, you are going to face an extremely uphill struggle when the expectations of study increase.

So, to round off, try not to get too discouraged. You know you aren't doing it, which means you are the one actually learning and developing and growing. Others will learn eventually, and probably more painfully. You do you!

[fanaticsnail]

I fell asleep with spotify on and woke up to sea shanties. And in that honor:

Roronoa Zoro loves to drink. Everyone knows this. His high alcohol tolerance means he can usually keep himself in a pleasantly fuzzy state.

Still, there are times where he gets properly drunk. Absolutely blackout sloshed. And this poses the question of what to do with him? How to care for him?

That is, until Sanji joins the crew. See, the rest of the strawhats may be new to this sailing business, but not Sanji. Sanji was raised by pirates on the sea. Rowdy, fun loving, drink loving pirates. And he knows exactly what to do with a drunken sailor.

Snhsiwbehei this is so stupid. Just a silly thing that crossed my mind.

-♡♡ lots of love

Anything for you, ♡♡ Anon. What shall we do with the drunken sailor, indeed? I saw your ask about still thinking on the lazy sleeping Zoro. Thought I'd add a little more lazy swordsman in there for you.

Until The World Stops Spinning

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,000+

Synopsis: You have just come off watch-shift, just as Sanji wanders onto the top deck of the Going Merry. Both of you discuss what to do about Zoro's current state of inebriation. What shall we do with the drunken swordsman...

Themes: Zoro x reader, subtle sanji x reader, drunkenness, smoking, drinking, sleeping, written with the sea shanty "What shall we do with the drunken sailor" in mind.

Notes: I listen to shanties all the time when I write. It's seriously such a vibe. This anon comes up with the best prompts, and I seriously can't. Edit to add: That version above by The Irish Rovers is what I used to dance to when I did Irish dancing as a child. One of the old tunes that made me want to play violin.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Gulls singing their sweet song of the morning lingered in the air, the perch of several flocking members sat proudly atop the top mast of the Going Merry. The chef serving beneath the Straw-Hat captain wandered on the deck to enjoy his morning cigarette after setting aside the morning crepe batter to rise. What greeted him in the morning light was a sorry sight to behold.

The puddle of drool pooling from the corner of the sword wielding first mate’s mouth was indication enough that he was past the point of no return in his drunken stupor. His snore rattled and shook the top deck, the wood almost cracking beneath the intensity of the roar falling from his parted lips. 

Standing over the first mate, arms folded in twine, stood the Going Merry’s latest member: the ship's counselor. 

“Mornin’ chef,” you utter without turning away from the snoring first mate. Sanji pouted with a deep frown while placing the filter of his cigarette between his lips. 

“Good morning, counselor. Good watch shift?” Sanji uttered while striking his flint and lighting the end of his cigarette. You nod, both of you not tearing your eyes away from Zoro as the deep rise and fall of his chest indicated traces of life within his death-like slumber. 

“Not a single thing to report, aside from this thing here, of course,” you uttered, gently tapping your toes against Zoro’s thigh as he slept soundly. Sanji inhaled a lengthy breath of his morning nicotine, exhaling down at the swordsman with a soft scowl on his face. 

“How many'd he have?” Sanji asked tilting his head and examining Zoro as his shaky snore. 

“Around five or six, I think,” you bob your head before further clarifying, “Bottles, not short rounds.” Sanji clicked his tongue at the confirmation, gently shaking his head. 

You turn towards the blonde chef, furrowing your brows and looking at him inquisitively. 

“Chef?” you quirked up at him, prompting him to turn towards you in response, “You've probably had the most experience with inebriated sea-folk. Any quick remedies you can think of for this?”

“I can think of a few cures from the tales of old,” Sanji chuckled, his smile turning more playful with each passing moment. “Shave his belly with a rusty razor comes to mind.” You scoff at him, rolling your eyes with a soft chuckle. 

“Zoro's stomach is as smooth as a baby bird,” you laugh at him, “Not a hair to rid him of, rusty razor and all.” Sanji hummed, pressing his index finger to his chin and thinking further. 

“Put him in the longboat ‘til he's sober is the next classic suggestion,” Sanji took a moment to take a lengthy drag with a deep chuckle, “Or: stick him in the scupper with a hosepipe bottom, is another.”

“The Going Merry has no long boat,” you shrug, looking down at the snoring former pirate hunter and lulling your head to the side, “And I don't think he'd very much enjoy a swift spanking on the meat of his ass with a rubber pipe, in his current state.”

Sanji laughed in a loud and unbridled laugh, placing the cigarette on the ground and dulling it's light with the ball of his foot. 

“Put him in bed with the Captain's daughter, then?” Sanji chuckled in glee, softly nudging your shoulder with his, “That's the only other option in the tales and shanties.” You nudge him in return before nuzzling your head against his bicep. 

“While stringing him upside down by his ankles on the topmast is awfully tempting,” you remove your head from Sanji's arm, “We're better off just moving him and putting him to bed to sleep it off, aren't we? Wanna give me a hand, handsome?” 

“Not really,” Sanji shrugged with a soft chuckle before reaching down and grappling one of Zoro’s heavy legs, “But I will because you asked me so nicely.” You shake your head, reaching down and aiding Sanji in bearing the brunt of the swordsman’s weight to take him below deck where the others began to stir from their sleep. 

As Nami got up from the only bed, Usopp and Luffy rising from the hammocks, you gently aided Sanji in placing Zoro beneath the plush duvet and atop the mattress still warm from Nani's body heat. Shaking her head, Nami fishes a bucket from the side of the room and places it by Zoro’s head. 

Stirring briefly from his drunken stupor, Zoro’s blurred and swirling vision glared up at you all before his gaze softened into a lazy smile. 

“I… I love you guys,” Zoro’s soft, drunken drawl lazily called to you all before turning to gaze at you, “Ya’ done with the nigh’ sh-shift, ‘Selor? Gonna snooze?” 

You look over at the crew, gently giving Sanji's arm a squeeze before he turns to begin breakfast for the crew wandering atop the deck. He smiled in response, gently bobbing his chin up and wordlessly telling you to get some sleep. 

“Yeah, swordsman. I'm gonna 'snooze',” you confirm with him, turning to the hammocks and beginning to choose from the three suspended bed-spaces. Before you were able to move away from Zoro’s bedside, his muscular arms shoot out and snake around your midsection, tugging you into a warm embrace beside him. 

Nuzzling into your hair, he takes a lengthy inhale and groans in joy at the body heat radiating from you.

“S’ay w’th me?” he slurred in question, already beginning to fall into slumber with you tucked in his arms. “Only ‘til th’ room s’ops spinnin’?” Facing away from him, you shake your head with a light smile before moving the duvet up to cover the both of you. 

“Sure, Zoro,” you already feel the weight of your eyelids weighing you down the longer you linger in his embrace, “Only until the room stops spinning.” Both falling asleep almost immediately, a soft shutter of a Den-Den image conductor could be heard mixing with the harmonious snores reverberating within crew quarters.

Nami was going to hold those images over the both of you as ransom for more of a cut from your joint haul on this upcoming adventure. You both slept soundly enough to not care, dreaming of what new horizons lay waiting for you.

[house-strong]

— THE DANCE between dragons ʾ ⋆

summary ; request by anon.

“possibly a little love triangle request?? Jacaerys/Reader/Aemond but Jacaerys ends up coming out on top?”

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x reader x aemond targaryen

notes ; i absolutely LOVE jacaerys ever since ep 8,, what a respectful king he is!! warning: this is lengthy!

being offered the hand of an established lord was a glorious feat that was longed for by any waiting lady in the realm. to find a husband that has not only the name, the title, but also lands and wealth to shower his soon-to-be family with. this would not only strengthen ties within the houses of the realm, but ensure that any lords daughter would be well treated, well respected, and well cared for.

but, to get two hands of established lords was unprecedented. you seemed to be in such predicament. to add fuel to the fire, they were both princes. to say your family was merely ecstatic wouldn’t be doing it justice.

one velaryon and one targaryen. the eldest child of laenor velaryon and the princess rhaenyra targaryen, and the youngest son of his grace, king viserys targaryen and his wife, queen alicent hightower. jacaerys velaryon, future heir to the iron throne, and aemond targaryen, the one-eyed prince.

you had been in the presence of aemond longer than you had to jacaerys, being the dutiful lady-in-waiting to the formers older sister, princess helaena. brought to court in king’s landing by your lord father, you were first caught by aemond targaryen – a child with a serious facade who had only smiled when he caught your eye. he would ensure that you were content, always lingering around in the shadows like a lost pup. he envied the time his sister had with you and always pestered his sister with questions.

does she like flowers? what’s her favorite pie? do you think she cares if i have a dragon or not?

that was when he had two eyes.

now, he was a man grown and hardened. donning an eyepatch and a scar on his left eye, he was no different than how he was as a boy when he was with you.

kind, charismatic, and funny. sure, he was all too teasing sometimes, but he always knew the right thing to say afterward so that you could never stay upset. the boyish things he used to do when he was younger; gently shove you as he passed by, mutter playful taunts under his breath, and interrupt your time with his sister princess, was vastly different than the way he treated you now. now, he brought flowers every now and then – even going as far to claim that they were from your native lands. they weren’t, of course, but it was obvious from his dragon riding attire and the dirt underneath his fingernails that he had gone out of kings landing in search of a bouquet worthy of your attention.

bringing you a book, staying by your side in silence as you answered scriptures sent to you by your family, and sitting by you and eating his dinner by your side. offering a dragon ride – anything, to keep you entertained and keep you in king’s landing.

it was adorable, his queen mother had thought. although princess helaena was married to her brother, prince aegon, and no longer needed a lady-in-waiting, the royal family kept you by their side (or rather aemond’s side) for aemond’s sake. you kept him out of trouble and brought light back to the prince’s once dull life.

from the beginning, these interactions had left your heart fluttering and your stomach in a knot. however, as of late with prince jacaerys’ arrival, the feeling had quelled and moved from aemond to jacaerys.

jacaerys velaryon, was no different. when his family returned to court at king’s landing and was greeted by the king, the queen, his uncle and aunt, and surprisingly you, he was head over heels. in your house colors and a long gown that covered your ankles, with long sleeves that looped through your fingers bound by jewelry, he thought he had met the entity of the maiden he had heard maesters and small-folk speak about.

beautiful and radiant, he knew he had to get to know you. the only thing in his way was the stone dragon that ever so protectively stood in front of you, almost shielding your presence from his nephew. it was like a silent exchange between the two when they made eye contact – you were aemond’s.

that didn’t stop jacaerys though. with each action aemond had for you, jacaerys had an equal and sometimes even greater reaction.

he was less obvious and more of how a lord should act; offering his hand to you when ever you climbed stairs or descended from a carriage, being the first to arrive at your apartment chamber to summon you to break your fast. he was constantly a new figure in your life and often asked questions about your native lands. you couldn’t tell him much – years of being away from home, it had turned into a distant memory rather than a fresh remembrance. he had told you one day, when you announced your discontent at being away from home so long, that he would take you. that statement alone was enough to make you fall.

that was when the dance between the dragons started and the revival of their long feud began.

“dear (y/n),” aemond’s voice brings you back to the present. you halt your tracks and turn your head toward the direction of his voice, a smile brightening both of your faces. you give him a customary curtsy as he approaches with long strides. “where are you off to in such a hurry?”

you hadn’t realized how fast you were walking or where you were even going.

“i was going to the godswood to read, my prince. i find that it’s both quiet and relaxing to be there,” you reply, rediscovering the reason for being out of your chambers.

aemond relaxes his shoulders and puts his hands behind his back, “no need for formalities, my lady, would you care if i joined?”

the question wasn’t surprising at all, aemond was always by your side. it was rather poetic and sweet.

“i would love if you joined me, prince aemond.” at your affirmation, aemond sticks out his right arm and you gladly grasp it, taking care to stay in his line of sight as you readjust your hold on your book. his other hand falls onto the one holding his arm, his fingers, long and warm, curled around yours. “how are you fairing with the return of your nephews?”

perhaps you should have waited to ask him, for his face turned dark.

“my nephews and half-sister are like the plague. they turn everything sour and seem to ruin–” when he feels your head turn and his eyes on his side profile, he halts his word assault on his family, “though, the kitchen cooks are preparing better meals every day. i assume that is the only light of their presence.”

“aemond,” you say carefully, raising your brows. the prince sighs and continues to lead you to the godswood, and soon enough, the halls open into an enormous, open courtyard with a single weirwood tree. “they are your family.”

aemond wants to pull his hair out, freely say obscenities and announce their bastard parentage – but he had sworn his mother that he would stop with the strong insults.

“family,” he tastes the word on his tongue before gently dropping your hand from his arm. he approaches the weirwood tree and collapses to the ground, legs spread open and bent at the knee. “is a peculiar thing.”

you follow but more gracefully, bending your knees and sliding on to the grass. you splay out your dress, doing care to keep your modesty. you allow the silence to engulf you two and think about your choice of words next, “how so?”

“sometimes i think my own family isn’t mine,” he confesses and this is the time where he makes that face, the face that comes before he allows his secrets to fall and his wishes to come forward. “aegon, he.. he isn’t what i’d imagine him to be. my mother is.. absent and my father is the closest thing to seeing the stranger.”

you frown, but he continues, “i believe helaena is the only one i’m truly proud of and is my beloved sister.” his confession is a sad one and drives you to gently place your hand on his in support. “i think we should be lucky to choose our family.”

he does well to look you in the eye at his last sentence. you bashfully look away and your hand leaves his – he doesn’t like the sudden coolness on his skin that follows.

“would you like me–” your sentence is cut short by the sudden surprise of aemond’s calloused finger catching your chin, turning your face to his. his thumb gently touches your bottom lip and he’s focused on the pair. with caution, he looks for any objection and when he sees none, he leans in and places a delicate, but yearning kiss on your lips. he parts and leans back, a boyish look lightening his features, “aemond.”

his name comes out like a whisper from your lips and he almost moves to his knees. you enjoy this feeling – the fleet of uncertainty and the softness of love.

the moment passes faster than how it happened and suddenly you’re both parting farther, “nephew.” you look up and it’s jacaerys approaching.

jacaerys smiles once he catches your eye, but it falters when he gaze moves to aemond, “there you are, lady (y/n). i’ve been looking for you.”

he’s been.. looking for you? it’s both a surprise to you and aemond, though, the latter grips the earth until his knuckles turn bone-white. you don’t seem to notice, but the once kind smile the velaryon prince bore had turned triumphant. it’s almost as if he wants to piss off his uncle.

“my prince– i, you have?” you look down at the forgotten book in your lap and quickly raise it to jacaerys’ line of sight, as if to defend why you and aemond were in the godswood, “i was just reading to prince aemond.”

“i’m sure it was something lovely to hear.. dear uncle, would you care to lady (y/n) joining me on a stroll throughout the red keep? i might even show her how great vermax is.” your head turns to observe aemond, who was as quiet as ever. his expression is cold and his singular eye glares daggers into the velaryon prince. you were sure that if vhagar was here, aemond would have commanded his beast to rain fire on his nephew. however, his lips purse into a fine line and his eye flicks to meet yours. he blinks, then looks at jacaerys and nods in defeat.

“i shall safekeep your book, my lady,” aemond says solemnly, giving you a wounded look. he wants to reach out to push jacaerys away, taking you in his arms and mounting vhagar with you by his side and leave king’s landing. “i will.. see you tonight?”

you smile and nod, handing the book you were supposed to read to the prince, before grasping jacaerys’ extended hand that helped you to your feet. you give one last look at aemond while jacaerys leads you away, and it’s enough to tear your heart in two.

you follow jacaerys without a word, your mind a blur. was aemond confessing himself to you? pledging himself to you? did he.. love you? it was enough turmoil that you wanted to tear your hair out.

“you weren’t reading to him, were you?” prince jacaerys asks, his head turning to glance at you as his breath mingles with the air. you’re suddenly shy and nervous – whether from the truthfulness of the kiss you and aemond had shared, or the close proximity between you and jacaerys.

“not exactly, my prince,” you confess, ducking your head and looking at anything but the prince beside you. maybe you should have lied, but so far, you and jacaerys have been nothing less than honest. that’s what you loved – the honesty that never had any deceit or ill-will. perhaps you wanted to keep it that way.

the halls of the red keep become more secluded, less skylight falling into the courtyard and more torches lighting the corridors. jacaerys leads you up steps and you follow, lifting the skirt of your dress a bit to clear your pathway.

he continues to lead, the passageway becoming more clear and open once again. you inhale deeply at the last few steps, the air exiting through your nose as you two exit the tower of stairs. the walls soon disappear and the open, clear sky becomes obvious as it replaces the targaryen heraldries and tapestries. you gasp in awe as you turn your head – from here, visenya’s hill and black water bay are in view. it’s beautiful from the garrison wall.

jacaerys’ steps slow and you walk ahead, turning at the last moment to face him. he looks troubled, hands enclosed in fists at his side.

“it’s no secret that he has some affections for you,” jacaerys says carefully, taking in your figure before creating a set in his jaw, the bone more prominent. he turns his head and stares out into the open bay, moving toward the wall to lean into it. “i don’t doubt that he’s already made it known.”

“i’m sorry, my prince, but i don’t understand what you’re getting at.” your words border on a laugh, brows furrowing as you move closer. what was jacaerys playing at? was this some elaborate plan to embarrass you?

“no sly words, nothing less than the honest truth,” he starts, moving away from the stone wall to stand in front of you. his warm hands engulf yours – it’s embrace is firm and reassuring. thumbs gently run along your hand as he tries to soothe his own nerves and coax yours. “i will tell you exactly as i feel, and i would hope you feel the same.”

your heart moves from your chest to your stomach and tears had begun to well in your eyes at his next words.

“i.. i must confess that i also harbor affections for you. these past few days, while so little, have been something that i’ve been longing for,” he begins, looking down at your conjoined hands before peeking up through his brown strands of hair. “i think of you night and day, lady (y/n), your well-being clouds my judgement, and i am at constant ends with myself.”

he thought to himself, to either make himself happy and serve the consequences of being at yet another war with his uncles, or forever live in regret. he decided to swallow the lump in his throat.

your breath shudders at his confession and you feel your stomach lurch.

“i want to ask for your hand. i want you to be my lady and be by my side when my mother ascends the iron throne and i take dragonstone.” one of his hands releases his grasp on yours, his hand rising to brush a stray strand of hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear. his smile is boyish, with teeth peeking from behind his lips. this mere expression is enough to make you sigh. “i want you to see your family and visit home whenever you’d like – we can go together on vermax and travel wherever we’d like.”

“we wouldn’t have to worry about court, or formalities. we could.. we could do anything that your heart desires,” he inhales deeply, the air squashing the dull ache in his chest, “i just.. i want you. all of you. what do you say?”

the passed days replay in your mind. jacaerys dancing with you in the courtyard – the laughter that always filled the room whenever you were with him. it felt comfortable and content to be with him. you had no worries when you were with him, no worry of the wrath of his mother if you upset him, and no worry if your absence had caused a disturbance. this was easy and this felt right.

“yes.”

when word of prince jacaerys’ proposal to you and your acceptance had caught wind and spread like dragonfire, it had done nothing but harden the feelings of aemond targaryen. some would even say that it drove the one-eyed prince mad and demand atonement, an eye for an eye, or in this case, a loved one for a loved one.

[aclassitag]

Announcing Krem Week!

#kremweek2024 — 22-28 July 2024

background art credit: @xfreischutz [link to original post]

*text prompt list under the readmore

This year will mark 10 years since the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition! In celebration of that anniversary and the game that gave us our first trans character, here is a prompt list - and dates - for any who would like to participate! All sorts of creative content is accepted so long as they are not A/I generated. (See examples below)

*If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead, that is also fine!

Please read the guidelines!

If you have any questions, reply to this post and I will do my best to answer :)

Prompt list:

1 — Anniversary 2 — Euphoria / Expression 3 — Casual / Formal 4 — Family / Love 5 — Respite / Fight 6 — Play / Satiate 7 — (Free space!)

Guidelines:

Use the tag: #kremweek2024 (@ this blog is fine too) — If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead of Krem, that is also welcome! Please @ me so I can rb :) For non-Tumblr folks that somehow got here: You may post submissions, please link your socials. You may choose one of two prompts in a day or do both. You may also combine as many prompts as you want from any or all of the days into a single work, just mention it somewhere.

Types of content allowed:

Illustration and writing are the most obvious forms of art allowed, but they're not the only ones! Literary arts fanfics, drabbles, poetry, plays, lengthy headcanon/meta posts (for headcanon and meta posts, minimum of 100 words+) Visual arts doodles, paintings, graphic design, photoshop memes, photography, animation, tiktok skits, abstract, fiber arts (embroidery, knitting, etc), ceramics Audio art fanmixes(curated playlists), original or cover songs Other crafts are also welcome! e.g. culinary, resin, woodworking, etc etc ..essentially, whatever type of art it is, I'll accept it so long as it falls within rules and is related to Krem or Maevaris :) For things that are more abstract, do include an explanation of your thought process on how it relates to Krem. E.g. you made Krem's Seheron Fish Wrap or Rice Pudding, take photos of your cooking, and post that (with the explanation that it is Krem's recipes) - that's an acceptable submission! You're allowed to explore different mediums everyday! You don't have to stick to one form of art for the whole week. I will be attempting to schedule reblogs in the 'prime time' for engagement, and in the interest of fairness, things like headcanon posts, fanmixes, and WIPs will not take priority in that time slot over fully rendered illustrations or complete fanfics. They will still be reblogged, but scheduled for other time slots.

Content Rules:

No A/I generated content. (Specifically GenAI content) As above, any and all forms of art is welcome. It must be human made, and by you. The whole point of working off a prompt is to explore a creative process, anyway - do yourself a favour and just enjoy making something! It doesn't have to be pretty! No reposting of other people's works. This must be your own creation. Obviously, no transphobic content. No harrassing others over their specific headcanons - be it in regards to any trait or quirks that come with being a person. People come in all sorts of wonderful variety, please respect that. In addition to above: No whitewashing, racism etc. Please note that Krem is not pale-skinned in canon, and I will not be reblogging content of him being portrayed as pale. 18+ works need to be labelled. On this blog, its tagged as "#adult art". Please add content warnings as appropriate. (E.g. portrayal of binding with bandages should have a warning label of "cw: unsafe binding", etc.) If your post/submission is lengthy, please insert a read more. This helps readability on the dashboard. Progress / WIPs are fine too!

General tips:

First and foremost, do what you are able to! Don't feel pressured to complete a full week if you need to take care of yourself first. Some people work on the prompts before the week even begins, and only post it day of. You are not required to do this, but if you really want to fill something for each day, this helps reduce stress day of.

Mod things:

The mod isn't from the Americas, so due to timezone differences, there may be a delay in reblogging people's works. Either way I will not reblog the moment that it's posted in order to screen properly. Posts will be queued between 30mins-1hr apart, if there are multiple entries being submitted at the same time. All submissions will also be requeued after a week for later perusal :)

[holymusicalmothman]

Eat at Baratie! - OPLA!Sanji x Fem!Reader

Might do a part two, there might be more of this that comes to mind!

Inspo is from @madmadamemimble who said : "Sanji recognizes reader as a former patron of the baratie a few years back. Why does he remember them? They dined and dashed. On his watch. Zeff. Was. Furious. He still begrudges them for the lengthy month of chore duty he got stuck with as a result. But how could he ever stay mad at someone so beautiful, kind and charming."

Warnings: none? mentions of a dine and dash in the past. Don't do that to your waiters guys :)

Word Count: 1k

Main Masterlist

You felt yourself tense when your little brother led you all through the fog and towards the Baratie. Normally you didn’t return to places that you had left on a rather…unhappy note. But you also knew that you didn’t stand a chance against Luffy’s appetite. 

But maybe the waiter from before wasn’t working there anymore? And the Head Chef and Owner, who you knew to be Red Leg Zeff, had never seen your face. So you knew there was a slight chance you’d make it through this. After all, you didn’t even have a reservation.

You weren’t proud of your prior actions, but back then the simple dine and dash had just been a moment in the wind. You definitely hadn’t planned on returning. 

And you definitely weren’t telling your brother. 

Growing up two years Luffy’s elder, you made it your own personal mission to look out for him. Especially after Shanks had left. You had taken his departure personally, the pirate genuinely being your father. Luffy had never quite told you how that moment had affected him, it was the one of the few things he had never opened up to you about. But you had seen how much he treasured his hat. He called you his sister though. And you called him your brother. 

You and Nami stood more towards the back of the group as Luffy and Usopp attempted to get a table. 

“You’re tense.” She pointed out. 

Being the only two girls aboard the Going Merry, you liked to think you and Nami were friends. 

You lowered your voice. “Don’t tell my brother, but I might have dined and dashed here a few years back.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You?”

You nodded. “Took a few months a few years back to see what I could. I felt restless back home, and Luffy wasn’t quite ready to head for the Grand Line. I wound up here, hungry and broke. I feel bad for the waiter, if I’m honest. He was…charming, and easy on the eyes.”

Nami smirked, a quick laugh passing through her nose. “Well then, maybe he’s still working here.” She walked over to the host and pulled some Berry from her pouch. “Excuse those two, they’re idiots.”

“Nami!” You were floored. Had she not been listening when you said you had dined and dashed?

“Relax, you said it yourself, it’s been years.” 

You groaned as you followed the group to the table, seating yourself between Nami and Zoro, trying to vanish into the booth. 

“Are you okay?” Luffy asked, not quite sure what to make of your antics but concerned none the less. 

You kicked Nami in the shin under the table as she opened her mouth.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You told your brother, reluctantly sitting up. 

There was a shout a ways away, toward the entrance to the kitchens. You couldn’t quite tell what was happening from your angle, but you recognized the accented voice that followed. 

“No cause for alarm folks, return to your meals.”

Your gaze fused itself to the tablecloth. 

A basket of bread was set on the table. 

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restraunt where the only thing worse than the ambiance is our food. My name is Sanji, what can I get for you?”

You frowned, looking up. 

It was the same man from the last time you were here, but the charm was…missing. Odd. 

Luffy had dug into the bread with joy. “One of everything please!” 

Sanji glanced at your brother. “Anything to drink? Perhaps one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?”

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Wow. Giving us the hard sell.” Nani’s voice was sarcastic and rather deadpan. 

It was like a switch had been flipped. Sanjis eyes flickered from Nami to you and seemed to linger. 

“Apologies, madames, I didn’t see you there. Would you care for an aperitif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock. Or perhaps a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet for someone sweet.”

The wink that followed was obviously directed at you and you felt your cheeks warm despite the situation. You returned your gaze to the table.

“Something wrong with your eye?” Nami questioned. 

Sanji merely smiled. “Just blinded by beauty.”

You heard Nami order the both of you plain waters and the receding footsteps of your waiter. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, the boys started giggling at the obvious flip to his personality. You rolled your eyes and nudged Zoro to let you out of the booth. 

“I’mma get some air.” You muttered lamely. 

The open air bar was cooler than the dining room, you noticed as you leaned against the railing. 

“You caused me quite the bit of trouble the last time you were here. I trust you don’t plan on pulling such a stunt again?”

The blond was at your side, resting his forearms on the railing, a lit cigarett dangling from his fingertips. 

“I have berry.” 

He raised a brow, taking a drag. “And you didn’t before I take it.”

You shook your head. “Not at the time. I’m sorry about that by the way. I didn’t mean to get you into any trouble with Zeff.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he smiled, grey blue eyes meeting yours. “Just a month’s worth of extra kitchen chores. Honestly, Zeff could have done much worse. I think, that as long as it doesn’t happen again, we’ll be alright.”

“We?”

“I trust you’ll be docked while your ship receives repairs, and I’d love a chance to get to know a lady as charming as yourself.”

You laughed. Something about him was enthralling. You couldn’t tell if it was the charm, the accent, the smile, the way his hair fell in his face, or even just the way he looked. Something about him reeled you in like a fish on a line. 

“Maybe a drink after my shift?” He asked, hopefully.

“I’d like that, Sanji.” You said with a smile. 

“Ah, and the beautiful lady blesses me with a drink. I should get back to work, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, I should be getting back to my brother.”

“Until later, then.”

You smiled as he walked away, back into the dining room. Maybe coming back to the Baratie was a good idea after all.

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) l ch. VI

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6,192

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), kook gets pissed, jk mother is asdhjf!, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, manipulative parent, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc, mild sexting, sexual content

Sexual warnings: bl*wj*b, jk c*mes on her t*tt*es, d*rty talk

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: um so this got over 6k which i know isn't amazing but for me its big deal okay?! haha! Anyway Part VI here we go! No flashbacks in this chapter because of ch.V buuut, I have a little gift for you and me. Hope you enjoy!! 💞 also pls vote if youd be so kind 😙

<< ch. V ༓ ch. VII >> | series masterlist

Living in the country for over thirty years, the Jeons were known to be excruciatingly slow and cautious drivers. The town was tiny, roads were narrow, and no one was ever in a rush to get anywhere apart from maybe the farmers market.

Once when Jungkook first got his license he took one hand off the steering wheel and his mother almost had a heart attack, saying it was “reckless of him to put them in danger”. It was from that moment forward that Jungkook always made sure to drive at 10 and 2 or 9 and 3 when his mother was in the car. His father on the other hand didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t go above 30 mph.

Jungkook was counting his lucky stars when he finally got his own car and the chance to move to the city where he could drive how he damn well pleased–responsibly of course. He had recently finished his Master’s studies and was offered a job as an economist in a major medical corporation. The only catch was that he’d have to relocate to Seoul which ended up being more than fine with him.

His parents moaned and groaned that he wasn’t sticking around but his mind was made up. He moved out of his parent’s tiny town one late June and headed to the city where life moved to a whole new beat.

Ten years later, Jungkook finds himself gripping the steering wheel with two sweaty hands again. Kudos to his parents who have been telling him which way to turn and how fast or slow to go for the past fifteen minutes. He honestly should have picked a brunch spot closer to home to avoid all the madness. Walking would have done them good.

“I’ll never get used to how you drive down here,” Mrs. Jeon grumbles from the back seat. “All these sharp turns and six lanes of traffic going 50-plus miles an hour. It’s a wonder you haven’t all gotten in an accident yet. It’s like I always say, the slower the better. You city folks just don’t get it.”

Jungkook peers in his rearview mirror before signaling to switch lanes. “We can’t afford to go too slow out here Mom. This is a highway and dropping down in speed will cause a safety hazard just as bad, if not worse. Environments are different out here than in the woods.”

As Jungkook merges to the right, Mr. Jeon watches the surrounding cars from the back seat window. “Ah son, son, son!” He hollers and reaches for the ceiling handle.

“What? What happened?” Jungkook asks with panic. He flickers his eyes to the mirror again to spot his father's distress.

Mr. Jeon slowly releases the handle and lets out a lengthy sigh. “It's okay now, we’re good. You did good son. You moved over with so little space I thought you were going to hit the car now behind us."

"I told you it's a mad house out here!" Mrs. Jeon adds, tone thick. Jungkook puts his eyes back on the road in front of him and does his best to ignore the irritation bubbling within him.

"I know what I'm doing," he says. "I've lived here for ten years so can you guys please trust me? And stop with the driving advice and yelling every time I do something."

"We're just trying to help Kookie."

"Well, you're not alright?" The snap in his voice has Jungkook's parents sulking back in their seats in silence. "I want us to get to the restaurant safely and I can't do that when you're both shouting at me! So please just let me do the driving. Thank you."

God, if one more person calls him Kookie in that condescending tone he's going to lose it! Kookie was his childhood nickname but for some reason, it stuck to him like glue until he was friggin' 22 years old. He absolutely hates it and the only person remotely allowed to call him by it is his wife because she makes anything sound like honey to his ears.

The next five minutes are nothing but awkward silence and the sound of tires running on hard cement. Jungkook checks his phone—there's still a good ten minutes left according to the GPS. He moves to turn the radio on to break the eeriness of the drive when an incoming call pops on his car screen.

"Who's that? Who's calling?" Mr. Jeon pipes up.

"It's __." Jungkook hits the answer button. "Hey honey! You're on speaker." He smiles a big, wide grin that says nothing less than he misses you.

"Hi! I'm on my lunch break and thought I'd give you guys a call. I'm stopping at the grocery store tonight, after work. Anything you need?"

“Some booze would be nice!” Mr. Jeon echos and looks at his wife who merely shakes her head. He hasn’t had a drink in twenty years due to his high blood pressure, yet he’s still making the same damn jokes. “Got any Soju? Or maybe Bokbunja?” He chuckles at Mrs. Jeon’s sour face.

Jungkook pays his dad no mind and replies to you. “Uhm….we're low on milk again. I drank the last one yesterday.”

"You went through all those gallon jugs in a week?!" You'd think you'd be used to the amount of dairy your husband packs away but every time, it shocks you as much as the first. You married a milk-lovin’ machine.

Jungkook chuckles. "I'm sorry. I can get them for you if you want. We're on our way to get brunch, then hitting the bookstore for Dad, and after we'll swoop back home. I can pick it up along the way.”

“No need, I’m already going out later so I’ll get it. Anything else?”

“There’s nothing else I can think of. How’s work going?” He’s hoping it’s not hectic given the fact that last week was an absolute sandstorm. He distinctively remembers you coming home with nothing more than tired feet and dark circles under your eyes. He drew you a bath that night.

“Eh, so-so. I have a meeting with my boss later but besides that, it’s the usual. I wish I could have come to brunch with you guys. I feel bad I’m missing it.” Well, you do and you don’t. If Jungkook was planning on talking to his mom about the happenings of last night you wanted to be around for support but it was also a matter that should be between a mother and her son.

“Us too, but we’ll see you ton–shit!” Jungkook slams on the break when he sees he’s about to crash into a black SUV. Everyone’s seatbelts lock at the sudden jerk. “Sorry, sorry!” He checks the mirror to find his parents clinging to their seatbelts.

“Are you guys okay?! Jungkook?!”

He scans all around him to find rows and rows of cars all trying to merge into each other’s lanes. Some are coming from the exit nearby whereas others are trying to squeeze through people in hopes to get ahead.

Dammit, Jungook cruses to himself.

“Yeah, we’re good honey. Everything’s okay but we’ve hit a traffic jam. I’m not sure why since it’s literally 11:40 a.m on a Wednesday but looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a bit.”

“We’d never have this problem at home.” Jungkook hears his mother mumbling under her breath to which his father replies with a nodding of his head. “If it weren’t for all this nonsense we’d be there by now.”

“Absolutely. We’d be there fifteen minutes ago,” his father adds with his hands in the air. “Isn’t there some kind of way you can get around this son, like a shortcut?”

Ah yes, shortcuts on the highway. Why didn’t he think of that? Let him just push the button that says flight mode and–no! Having enough, Jungkook holds his foot on the break and twists his body around to face his parents.

“Alright listen to me right now. This is not Tiny Town where there are a million dirt roads that pop from anywhere and all seem to lead to one other. Everyone drives at least seventy out here and that’s just the way it is because this..." He gestures outside the windshield. "This is what happens! We all get stuck in this congested funnel! But if you two can think of a way to get out of here that doesn’t involve attempting to bulldoze other cars, I’m all ears. Until then we’re going to sit here and talk about the weather because there's nothing else we can do!"

Jungkook looks back and forth between his parents. Mrs. Jeon simply stares outside her window while his dad gives a slow nod in understanding.

"Is it really that bad?"

Jungkook relaxes his body back to face the front when he hears your voice. "Yeah, it's pretty bad __." He lets out a long, exasperated sigh. This is going to be a very long day.

"Nice out today. Mind if I roll down the window?" The traffic hasn't got any better and it was starting to get stuffy in the car. Mr. Jeon desperately needed some fresh air in his face.

"Mhm yeah, go ahead."

"How about some music? Find out what's on the radio will you." He sticks his arm out the window, letting the gentle breeze hit his skin. When the first song blares through the speakers, Jungkook's mother breaks her deafening silence.

"Dear god! What music is this?"

Mr. Jeon immediately perks up. "It's PSY! Turn it up! Turn it up, boy!" Jungkook appeases his father's wishes and turns the knob a few more notches. "Oppa Gangnam Style! Eae eae eae e, sexy lady!"

Hearing his dad singing at the top of his lungs has Jungkook rubbing the side of his head. It's not that he sounded bad but he was singing so loud that everyone around them started pointing, laughing, or rolling up their own windows. "Dad, people are going to get annoyed. Take it down a little."

Deeply immersed in the song, Mr. Jeon continues singing regardless of his son's request. "Op, op, op, op, oppa Gangnam Style!" He starts rocking in his seat which causes a few middle schoolers in the car next to them to pop out their phones.

"Dad!" Jungkook hollers when he notices the kids taking pictures. If doesn't put an end to this now, his father's face is going to be trending all over the internet with god knows what filter.

"Op, op, op, op, on on on on!"

"Dad stop!" He tries again, this time turning the music down. Mrs. Jeon attempts to calm her husband down too, placing a hand on one of his arms but it doesn't take much for it to be ripped out of her grasp. Mr. Jeon ends up nearly whacking his wife in the face due to all his energetic dancing.

"Erotic sexy lady! Oppa Gangnam Sty–hey! Song wasn't done yet!" Jungkook's dad never looked so offended in his life. If he had adjusted his gaze just a few inches to the left he'd see the group of kids, the ones taking photos earlier, giggling to one another. But he was too pissed at his son for crashing his party that it went to the wayside.

"Honey, you were causing a disturbance," Mrs. Jeon says.

"A disturbance? In this traffic jam, I'm the disturbance?" He refuses to believe he's the annoyance when they've been in the middle of a highway, moving at 5 mph for the last hour. PSY has recently become his favorite singer and not enjoying himself would have been an absolute tragedy in his opinion. "It's all of you who should be thanking me for offering some shred of entertainment at times like these."

"The entire population of South Korea is going to be thanking you then." Jungkook creeps forward as soon as the car in front of him moves up a ways. Finally moving again, he hums.

"Hey!" An abrupt voice calls from a slight distance. Two teenage boys pull up in a Jaguar, greasy grins on their faces. "Great singing Grandpa! Really know how to move!" The one in the passenger seat flashes his phone playing a video of Jungkook's dad online.

"Wha–how–What?! You delete that right now!" Mr. Jeon is stunned, tripping over his words at the shock of himself actually being the center of the internet. The video is unexpectedly clear.

"Just ignore them, Dad." Jungkook rolls up all the windows in the car and inches up the best he can to get the teenagers out of direct sight.

"But-but how did they do that so fast? It hasn't even been five minutes yet!"

"It only takes seconds, honey," Mrs. Jeon sighs, realizing her husband has become famous over a re-rendition of a PSY song. Of all things, it had to be that.

"I'm starving."

"Me too."

Jungkook glances at the time–2:40p.m. It's now been three hours of sitting in traffic and they've only moved about ten miles. What on earth is congesting the highway this much?

"Maybe we should take one of these exits." His dad scrolls through the map on his phone. "Says there are a few restaurants down exit 6A."

Jungkook considers the idea. He wants to get off the highway, yes, but so does everyone else. The exit his dad is talking about is off the far right lane which means he's going to need to shove in front of everyone's way.

"You sure it's a good place? Wherever it is you're looking?" The reason why he asks is that his dad is notorious for leading them into the most ruin down places. The last time he was in charge of directions, they ended up in front of an abandoned pizza shop.

Mrs. Jeon takes the phone from her husband's hand and swipes through the photos of a quaint restaurant. "It's not bad," she concludes. "And if it means we can get out of this mess, then I'm with your father on this one."

Two against one. Jungkook turns his signal on and waits for someone to let him over. He earns a few honks when he manages to squeeze his nose over but does his best to give an apologetic wave.

After a few more lane changes he gets in the exit lane. He isn't the only one planning to take exit 6B though, being that there are at least twenty other cars waiting in line.

"Maybe we were better off back where we were. All these people want to get off the same place. If we keep going there's bound to be another exit with far less traffic."

Really? Jungkook feels himself ticking again. After all that shoving to get over here and this is what he gets? No, he's not moving back over. They're going to wait in this stupid lane until it gets them to where they originally agreed.

"We just got here and we're not moving back anywhere. This lane should clear up in less time than it would take to go back on the main highway," Jungkook says. "Also, I probably don't need to clarify this but, we're not going to make it to that bookstore you wanted, Dad."

"It's fine, son. We'll go another day."

Which means tomorrow, Jungkook half grumbles to himself. His parents are here for another day after all and he knows his father well enough to know that "another day" really means the closest day possible.

Despite its size, the restaurant his parents choose is charming with its floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and giant, bay windows. The odd hanging plant is spread throughout the open dining space as well, perfectly setting the mood of serenity.

The restaurant only seems to hold about a dozen people inside, however. So thinking it is best to avoid sitting in an overly crowded space, Jungkook asks for one of the tables outside.

“Oh now this is lovely,” his mother praises, pulling her chair up to the table. Jungkook can’t describe how relieved he is to finally hear something positive after hours of nonstop grumbling.

Mr. Jeon takes a seat next to his wife and across from his son. “I just saw someone get Samgyeopsal and it was huge! Let’s get that to share.”

His enthusiasm is short-lived when the scrunched-up face from his wife says she's not a fan. “That's too much food! We still have to be hungry for dinner so we can eat with __."

"Mom's right," Jungkook agrees reluctantly. "__'s stopping at the grocery store after work so we can prep for dinner tonight. I know traffic slowed us down so we're eating at a weird time but it's better we go with something light."

"Oh well, we can always take some to go! Surely __ will enjoy some beautifully grilled pork!" Jungkook's father is adamant. He wants nothing more than a heavy meal after being stuck in the car all morning.

"__ doesn't like pork Dad. And we all know as soon as we get a whiff of it cooking there's not going to be any leftovers."

"Alright, alright," his dad concedes. "I guess I'll try their bibimbap. What are you having hon?"

Jungkook checks his phone messages while his parents make small talk over the menu. You texted him earlier to see how traffic was holding up and he only able to get back to you minutes ago.

Wifey ❤️ : So I'm guessing you haven't talked to your mom yet?

Jungkook: No, haven't brought it up. She seems fine though with the way she's been acting. It doesn't take much for her to go back to her usual self

Wifey ❤️: Her usual self being...?

Jungkook: You know, really particular.

Wifey ❤️: So she's complaining again. I'm sorry 😞

Jungkook: When I was talking with her on the phone before we left, she was much more careful about what she was saying. I expected it to still be that way now. Must have been a mood.

Wifey ❤️: Sounds like she wasn't sure how you'd be reacting after what happened last night. Maybe she's just reverting to back what she's used to because she's unsure what else to do or say. I'd still try finding a way to talk to her. Does it seem tense?

Jungkook: Yeah, you have a point. But Mom's also had a good way of sweeping things under the rug. It's not tense but it's just uncomfortably normal?

Wifey ❤️: Hmm, strange. And your dad's fine?

Jungkook: Honey...have you been on any social media in the last half hour?

Wifey ❤️: No, why?

Jungkook: Might wanna check. We had a little incident while in traffic. I'm still in shock honestly 😅

Jungkook waits for you to find the video of his dad. He already had the guys blowing up his phone from it so he's surprised none of them at least forwarded it to you.

Wifey ❤️: oh my god! Jungkook what happened?! 😂 I hope you're prepared for your students to be all over this

Jungkook: oh shit, that didn't even cross my mind 😩 also it's not funny honey! Listening to my dad singing eae e sexy lady was traumatizing enough. Now I have to see and hear it every time I pop open my phone or some teen punks show it to me!

Wifey ❤️: Aw Kookie, they're just being kids...try not to overthink. And you know those videos come and go. Your dad will be at the bottom of the chain by next week. Until then keep him away from PSY 😅 But I'm sorry you're having a day, I love you 🥺

Jungkook: I MISS YOU SO MUCH 😭

Wifey ❤️: [sent an image]

Fuck! Jungkook chokes on his spit when he sees a blurry close up of your cleavage. Thankfully his parents are still too occupied by the menu that they didn't notice.

Jungkook: sexy af but this isn't the time to be sexting me baby!

He nearly saves the photo if it weren't for the fact that he already had an album dedicated to very sensual *ahem erotic* photos of you. You had let him take them himself —best motherfuckin' birthday ever.

Wifey ❤️: oh adhjjhj, sorry!! That was an accident. I'm such a klutz. This is what I meant... [sent an image]

"What's going on over there?" Jungkook merely glimpses at the new image before whipping his head up, hearing his mother's, sharp tone.

"It's just __. She's asking about groceries again."

With slightly narrowed eyes, Mrs. Jeon continues. "We're about to order if you're ready."

Dammit. He'll have to reply to you later. Jungkook swiftly pockets the phone. "Okay yeah I'm good to go."

"This is delicious," Mr. Jeon says, patting his mouth with a napkin. "Best bibimbap I've had in a long time."

"That's great Dad." Jungkook stirs his noodles.

"Ah, where's the restroom around here?" He asks the waitress as she walks by. She tells him it's in the restaurant, all the way to the back. Mr. Jeon pushes his chair from the table and excuses himself. "All that broth has me needing to go."

"Yes yes, just go." Why his father needed to explain himself every time he needed to use the restroom is beyond him. Jungkook peers at his mother, taking her time eating her own bowl of noodles–they ended up ordering the same thing. "How is it?" he asks.

"It's good."

"Not too spicy?"

"No, it's mild."

Jungkook gathers more noodles on his chopstick. He freezes halfway when he sees his mother eyeing him intensely. "Everything okay?"

Mrs. Jeon folds her hands in her lap. "It's occurred to me that we still have an elephant in the room. I was hoping we'd be able to talk about it while your father browsed the bookstore. But plans changed."

And here he thought his mother had been playing down last night when really she was biding her time. "You know Dad's gonna be back in like ten minutes right?"

Mrs. Jeon nods. "I know it's not the most convenient of times or places, but I'm afraid if we delay it won't get discussed."

"Okay." Jungkook sets his chopsticks down. "Well...where do you want to start?"

"An apology would be nice." Her voice is mellow but the words are a clear demand rather than an offer. Of course, he wants to apologize to her for all the things he accused her of last night. But he wasn't expecting her to be this forward with it, especially since she was guilty of plenty herself. "I'm waiting Kookie," she coos, taking a sip of water.

Jungkook knits his eyebrows in response, unsure of what he's hearing. His mother looks far too relaxed about this whole thing. He decides to give her the benefit of the doubt. "You're right," he starts. "I'm sorry for what I said last night. I shouldn't have spoken that way and I'm sorry for making you leave. I think you and Dad showing up all a sudden threw me off and I reacted poorly."

Mrs. Jeon cracks a tight smile and reaches for her son's hand. "Thank you, Jungkook. I accept your apology." She gives his hand a squeeze before moving to pick up her chopsticks. "Now that we got that settled let's talk about the reunion. I'm thinking about talking to–"

What....the fuck? His mom did not just glide over this whole issue. She did not just put everything on him. And she did not just bring up that damn reunion again, which he's made very clear he wants nothing a part of. "Is that all you wanted? For me to make my amends with you?"

"What else would there be Kookie?" She scoffs, eyes wide.

"Goddamn it." He struggles to maintain a hushed voice. "Can you please stop calling me that? And what the hell do you mean 'what else would there be'? I'm not trying to put the blame on you but there's a good amount you should be saying to me too."

"What things are you referring to? Don't tell me this is about the reunion again. Look, whatever it is that I said was because I just want to see you more. And no more swearing. You know I don't like that kind of language."

"How can you be like this?" Jungkook can't stop himself. He figured his mom and he would have a better, heart-to-heart than this. It makes his skin crawl that his mother continues to play the victim. "It's genuinely shocking me how....do you even love me?"

Mrs. Jeon pauses at that. "Of course, I love you Jungkook. Why–why would you ask that?" She blinks back the slightest hint of tears forming along the edge of her eyes. Never in a million years did she think her son would doubt something this crucial.

"I feel like–"

"Feel what? What is it?"

"I feel like you care more about what I can do for you than you do me, as your son." Jungkook sniffs. This is a lot harder for him to say than he imagined. "There's been so many times that you've–"

"Don't say this honey! I care about you very much!" She reaches for his hand again but he yanks it away. "What are you trying to tell me?" His mother waits for him to form the rest of the sentence.

Jungkook hesitates to look at her straight on because behind what appears to be concerned eyes is disbelief. She isn't taking any of this seriously. It's written all over her face, tone, and all the way down to the way she's focusing on an answer rather than his inability to comfortably talk to her.

"What have I done so many times?"

"Honestly at this point, what haven't you done?" With an icy glare, Jungkook can't hold himself back anymore. The pot that's been brewing, deep in the darkest parts of him is finally overflowing and it's not going to be pretty to behold. "Do you realize how many times you chose your job, your status, and even your friends over me? And you make Dad go along with literally anything! Is it so horrible for someone to say no to you?!"

The couple next to them shoot uncomfortable looks his way, whispering to each other. Jungkook ignores it and starts counting with his fingers.

"Never once have you ever taken responsibility for showing up uninvited, nagging me about this that, and the other thing, making backhanded comments about my life choice, and most of all pretending our relationship is peachy fine. Well, I'm sorry mom, I'm thirty-four years old and I don't need to live by your rules! Our relationship is barely hanging by a thread and being quite real, it's __ and Dad who are the ones clinging to that thread, making sure it doesn't completely snap."

Mrs. Jeon opens her mouth to interject but Jungkook doesn't allow it to happen. It's not exactly intentional that he's pouring out so much in the middle of people's lunch. Still, he's been shoved over a steep cliff, head first.

"I'm sorry mom, I don't know how many times I need to say it. I don't enjoy any bit of this. It's just been a long stretch of–"

"That's enough! I don't want to hear any more." Mrs. Jeon immediately grabs her purse and twists her neck every which way. "Where's your father? I want to leave."

"Mom I'm trying to talk to you! Why won't you let me talk?"

His mother doesn't reply. She doesn't look at him. It's the silent treatment, Jungkook concludes–it's fucking irritating. "I'm not trying to be hurtful," he says, forcing himself to calm down. "Mom look at me."

She doesn't move.

It only takes seconds for their waitress to near her way up to the table with anxious steps. "I'm sorry to be doing this but unfortunately, we've received a few complaints of a disturbance out here." The young girl clasps her hands. "To ensure all our guests are comfortable we're going to need to ask you to take your conversation elsewhere. I'm really sorry."

Fuck. How embarrassing. Jungkook clears his throat and stands up from his seat. "We understand and are genuinely sorry for the commotion. We'll pay at the front and be on our way. Thank you for waiting our table."

The young girl gives a nervous smile and retreats inside the restaurant. Jungkook makes a note to give her a generous tip.

"Hey, what's going on out here?" Mr. Jeon rushes over, hair blowing over due to the breeze. "I heard there was some inconsiderate party out here airing out their dirty laundry for all to see. I tell you, people these days don't know what privacy means anymore!" He shakes his head and takes a seat.

"Get up Dad we're leaving."

"But I'm not done my–––oh shit." Mr. Jeon clenches his teeth. "You two?"

Mrs. Jeon gets up from her chair, still wordless, and walks towards the parking lot. "I'll get this Dad." Jungkook stops his father from pulling out his wallet. "It is best if you go try to ease Mom. I don't think she'll be talking to me for a while."

Mr. Jeon puts a hand on his son's shoulder. It's his way of offering comfort. "You're mother has made things difficult for you, Jungkook. I'll try getting through to her. In the meantime don't let this eat you up. It's been a long time coming."

Jungkook doesn't get home until quarter past six. The drive home was better than the drive to the restaurant, but hitting the notorious five o'clock traffic slowed them down once more. He also had to drop his parents at their hotel which was no easy task. His mother barely gave him a glance before hopping out of the car. The amount of guilt settling in his gut isn't going away any time soon.

"Hey." Jungkook finds you searching through the kitchen cupboard. "I hope you're okay with spice tonight! I got this really awesome–oh baby what's wrong?" You stop what you're doing when you see your husband come up behind you with sunken eyes. He wraps his larger arms around you, desperately needing your scent.

"I blew it," he croaks. "She's so mad at me."

"I'm sorry Jungkook. I'm sorry I couldn't be there." You turn in his arms to pull him into a full embrace. His nose tickles the side of your neck but you don't laugh. "You wanna tell me?"

Jungkook takes your hand and sits you both on the couch in the living room. "The morning started out rough with three hours of traffic and the two of them in the back seat, telling me where and how I should drive. Then my dad got unexpectedly famous off a PSY song. We finally got to some restaurant about half an hour west of here before 3pm. Everything was going okay until dad went to the bathroom."

"Okay," you say, scooting closer beside him. You rub small circles on his upper back as he leans forward on his spread-apart knees. "What happened?"

"Mom suggested we talk about last night so I said sure." You watch as Jungkook fiddles with his hands. "But she didn't actually care about a conversation or what I had to say. All she wanted, all she expected, was for me to apologize to her so we'd be okay again. It all came out after that and I feel so horrible about it. We ended up getting kicked out of the restaurant too."

"Jungkook..."

"I tried __. I wanted to be patient and to be a good son but she can't even look at me right now." He falls back on the couch, staring at the blank wall in front. "Dad's convinced it was bound to happen."

"You are a good son, Jungkook." You comb a few strands of his soft, ebony hair. He closes his eyes as you do. "You're mom's the one who needs to readjust her view."

"I never thought I'd yell at my mom about all that stuff. And certainly not in public where everyone is trying to have a pleasant lunch. I'm a grown-ass adult and I should have had better control of myself."

You settle into his inner shoulder, laying a hand on his chest. "Even grown adults have limits and your mom's far surpassed those limits. Don't blame yourself for this."

"Dad said the same thing."

"Well, that's two against one."

Jungkook smiles. Two against one, that's where he got that from. Not that you're the first person to use the phrase but he never used it as regularly until you moved in together.

"I missed you so much today. I don't deserve you."

You cock your head up as quick as the words fly from his mouth. "Don't you dare say things like that! You're a good man despite how awful your mother treats you." You lean your face near his, eyes wandering deep into his dark brown ones. "If you're not otherwise too tired, I'm going to show you how much I love you."

Jungkook opens his lids at that–apparently not too tired. You smirk and get off the couch.

"Here?" His classic doe-eyes peer down at your kneeled position. Seeing you settle this perfectly between his muscular thighs triggers an intense blood rush that goes straight to his dick. Jungkook didn't think he was going to get horny tonight but here he was with his half-harden length in your hands in the middle of the living room.

"Mhm." You position yourself just enough for him to have a clear view of your tits. You had taken both your shirt and bra off before starting. You know how your husband likes it. "That okay with you?"

Jungkook groans when you grip his cock harder, gliding it from the base to the tip in repeated motions. "Fuck yeah. It's more than okay." You giggle at how quickly your husband gets in the mood. He thinks you're the bitch in the bedroom? You quicken your movements.

"Oh shit this feels so good." He grips the couch cushion, keeping his focus on you. "Need that gorgeous mouth wrapped around me baby, please. Shit–"

You honor your husband's requests and trace your tongue from the base of his cock all the way up to his tip. Once there, you suck lightly before taking him in whole.

"That's it. Take my cock, fuck." Jungkook goes on to praise you as you bottom out. You gag a little at first being that you haven't done this in what....weeks? Damn. Whatever happened to the days when you'd literally go down on each other every day?

"We need to get you reacquainted with my cock honey," he teases, bucking his hips forward to push himself further into your mouth. "All these weeks without my cock in your mouth has you gagging all over me. Been it's been too long hasn't it?"

"Mm," is the only thing you reply with, the weight of his thick length dragging back and forth on your tongue. By now your pussy is pulsating like crazy and you're tempted to just get up and fuck yourself on him. But tonight was about your husband–you're going to make sure of it. And Jungkook loves nothing more than getting head with your bare tits in full view, obviously.

A few sucks later and Jungkook starts fucking himself into your mouth. They began as soft, needy bucks of his hips but now they're rough, full-force thrusts. His length shoves to the back of your throat and you moan desperately around him. "Did you miss my cock baby? I bet you did. My sexy wife....you're mine and you're gonna make me come, aren't you? Fuck yeah, you are."

Your eyes water as you continue to take him, hallowing your cheeks the best you can. Jungkook has his eyes screwed shut and sweat dripping from his forehead. Your panties are so fucking soaked right now and your nipples are defiantly hard from sheer arsousal.

"God I'm so close baby. You're mouth is---fuck I don't even have the words. It's fucking magic! And your tits are so hot from this angle. Kinda reminds me of what you sent to me earlier. Can I come on them? I'm so close." Jungkook takes your broken moans as a yes and starts ramming into you two more times before pullout and covering your breasts with warm liquid. "Fuck fuck fuck," he grunts, spilling himself on you.

What a mess. You look down at yourself. What a motherfuckin' mess and you love it. Jungkook pulls you into a passionate kiss, tongue rolling with yours in heavenly harmony. "Thank you for this," he says between kisses. "I'll help you wash up, I promise."

"Mm Jungkook," you pant. "I think I need you inside me."

Hey, he got his dick sucked and he creamed your tits–it's mama's turn now, or excuse you–wifey.

A/N: this got nasty whoops. not sorry. Anyway LMK what you think, thanks for reading! 💞 also pls vote if youd be so kind

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[frigidwife]

when u said 'they want armand to be lestat' it floored me tbh, i never thought of it that way. bc armand stans are obsessed w/ framing him as lestat's morally superior narrative counterpart & i didn't twig that they were ironically upset bc the writers gave him a brand of bullshit distinct from lestat's, but there u go! obviously lestans are just as bad wrt peddling idiotic 'lesser of evils' rhetoric, but w/ armand some folks latched onto him specifically bc he was Not lestat & crafted a fantasy version of him from the ground up on the basis of how very Not-lestat he was (which made him being an abuser extra awkward bc they had to willfully unlearn critical thinking before our eyes & resort to textbook lioncourt abuse apologia to justify themselves w/out a hint of irony.) & sure…most of us cooked up self-indulgent theories ahead of s2 that got proven wrong, i did it too, but some got so drunk on headcanon they couldn't engage w/ the text anymore, so i figured that's why they perceived the ep8 reveal as more of a rug-pull than it actually was. ngl i still kinda think that. but ur right, they'd probably be cool abt armand lynching claudia if was a grand scheme to 'keep louis all to himself' bc the scale of his abuse matters less to them than the motive behind it. louis being flat-out disposable to him was a dealbreaker bc it couldn't be romanticized. & that's why they felt so inordinately cheated when lestat saved louis, complaining it was a cheap redemptive act on the writers' part, when it was actually so clear that he & armand were both acting in line w/ their own selfish needs as ever. as u said, neither one is more noble or moral than the other, they just have different priorities & their choices reflect that. anyways i'll stop ranting now, sorry for the lengthiness, this one really ran away w/ me!

No exactly exactly!!! agree w everything u said here Love how u put that last bit about neither of them being more noble or moral just having different selfish needs. and armand's are not particular to louis. and same i was coping hard until ep 4 like i literally . can find the texts of me being like "i think louis does like him though..." 12 hours later "nevermind you were right." bc i .. processed the show...and it is actually moree interesting like if BOTH lestat and armand had the same motives and priorities it would be a little repetitive. but armand is his own unique horror. which is also a very blasé horror!! and structuring it this way where the "love triangle" is not actually be a meaningful triangle at all is so Gothic Romance like Linton is not seriously on the same plane as heathcliff in cathy's mind. St john is not on par w rochester. and rochester is not the more benevolent lovely option but st john. IS BORING.

[sitp-recs]

Do you have any fic recommendations where Draco very desperately loves Harry? To the point of wanting to take care of everything for him?

Thank you for all your suggestions i really love reading through them :)

Hi anon! Thank you, I’m happy to know you enjoy the recs 💜 here are some fics with a “hopelessly in love” Draco for you:

And I Know the Spark by firethesound (E, 15k)

All Draco cares about is keeping Potter alive, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

The Green Vial by eidheann (E, 31k)

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Criminal by The_Sinking_Ship (E, 83k)

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Turning Leaves by Kbrick (E, 112k)

Draco and Harry have a one-night stand that ends in disaster after Harry tells Draco he's unable to move beyond their poisonous past. So when Draco finds an unusual Time-Turner in the Department of Mysteries, he seizes the opportunity to start fresh with Harry. Only instead of fixing things, he keeps making them worse.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

By the Grace by lettered (E, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.