#'you can do a canter can't you? So do a canter!'

[yuuminni]

the more i try to make ivy work on my maddening run the more i admire those ppl on reddit who insist on making her work by giving her engraved tomes and putting lyn/corrin on her. its just so fascinating to me. here's an emblem that can fire arrows at an enemy very far away. you want to use this on enemies that are particularly annoying to deal with, like fliers that can easily bypass high terrain to raid your foot locked units, or an enemy with Entrap staff. anyway lets give it to a mage with no str who can use this attack to chip like, 5 HP on the flier that is about to kill half of your mages since the physical attack that is supposed to be effective on them isnt bc you put it. on a mage. and cant manage to finish them. yeah thats a perfect strategy no note.

[whatwewrotepodcast]

Equestrian Writing Resource

Hi everyone,

I've seen some how to write horses posts going around recently that contain some . . very not true things about horses. As a Certified Horse Girl TM I thought I might clarify a few things for any one out there wanting to write anything that includes horses.

My credentials are that I've been riding for as long as I remember, have owned horses for 15 years and currently compete at a state and national level in dressage.

Facts below the cut!

Travelling by horseback

Horses cannot gallop or even canter endlessly. This is something I see a lot of in movies and games and media like that. Even an extremely fit horse can only really gallop flat out for 10-15 minutes. A steady canter they can go for longer, but if you watch endurance races (where horses are ridden for 100s of kms over sometimes several days), the riders will mix periods of walk and trot to let the horses catch their breath and recover.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Horses do not have strong enough diaphragms to inflate their lungs fully. There are some cursed interior nonsenses going on here, but essentially at a gallop, a horse can only breathe once per stride. This means there is only a matter of time before they are no longer able to get enough oxygen to their muscles.

Which leads into the next thing . . .

Horses get hot easily and can struggle to cool down

Horses sweat, just like humans, but because of their mass, their interior temp can get very high and may need assistance to be brought down. That's why at the end of a cross country course (where horses are galloping for anywhere between 5-12 minutes and jumping fences) they often have buckets of water thrown on them to help them cool down.

A well trained horse can be ridden by anyone

I've seen some posts around recently that said that horses will try and throw off unfamiliar riders and that you can't ride a horse who doesn't know you. This is . . . ridiculous. If your horse has been trained properly anyone can get on and ride it. Ride it well? Maybe not, but if the person is a good rider they'll be able to do the basics. I've ridden my friends horses, and they've ridden my horse. I've put an 8 year old on my horse and let her walk around. If you horse is so insane it tosses anyone other than you, you've done a terrible job training it.

However, if a horse has not been broken to saddle, then yes, if you try and hop on it, it will probably try and get rid of you. If you just try and get on a horse bareback in the paddock, it will probably go poorly. A lot of horses don't take well to being ridden bareback initially, but they can all get used to it in time.

Horses are sensitive but you can just let them graze

It's a common joke amongst horse people that horses will drop dead of anything and this is true to an extent, but they would be entirely unviable lifeforms if you had to inspect every patch of grass before you let them eat it. In general, horses won't eat toxic plants if they have a choice. I'm not sure how people thing mustangs and other feral horses survive in the wild if every paddock needs to be check for toxic plants because horses can't tell what will kill them and what won't. It's usually perfectly fine to let your horse graze outside their paddock. On that note - if you horse breaks into the feed shed, it *can* cause colic, and depending what they eat, it can be an extremely serious circumstance, but also many horses break into feed sheds, gorge themselves, and walk away fine. Mine has done it more than once.

Horse riding IS hard

One thing other posts have gotten correct is that riding a horse is hard. It's not something you can do well from the get go no matter how amazing you are. Riding a horse the first few times will make muscles hurt you didn't even know you had. Riding a dressage test gets my heart rate nearly as high as going for a run.

Horses are kinda smart . . and kinda stupid

Yes horses all have personalities and they can be really clever, but they can also be extremely stupid and this is because they are flight animals. Some are braver, some are smarter, some are stupid, some are flighty. But a horse is generally not as smart as a dog, and some of them are as dumb as a bag of rocks.

Riding bareback is hard and not good for your horse's back

There's a reason we invented saddles and it's to help distribute a rider's weight more evenly over the horse's back. Horse spines are suspended like a cable between their hips and shoulders. There is nothing in the middle to hold it up but muscle, and you sit right on that thing. Riding bareback puts a lot of weight and pressure on their spine and the muscles around it. Riding with a (well fitted) saddle will help distribute the weight. However, well fitted is the key thing here. You can't just put any saddle on any horse. If the saddle doesn't fit, it can cause rubbing, pain, and eventually long term damage. It's best practice to get a saddle fitted every 12 months at least.

Sweat doesn't really make your horse more slippery though and if you saddle slides right off, your girth wasn't done up tight enough or some part of your tack failed.

Horses should be tied up while you tack and untack

Horses are flight animals and they will piss off if something scares them, which can be dangerous if they're half-tacked or untacked. However, if your horse tries to bite you just because you haven't tied them up then you are doing something that is causing them discomfort or you haven't trained them properly. For the love of god don't let your horse bite you?? What is wrong with you?? The girth should not be painful or uncomfortable for the horse. You don't need to do it as tightly as possible, just enough that it won't slide. Most horses have what is called a "girth groove" which is where the girth sits in front of their ribcage. Because their shoulder is in front and their rib cage widens out behind, the girth sitting in the groove stops the saddle moving.

Training a horse does take a while . . . but them liking you doesn't really factor

Training or breaking a horse to take a saddle and accept a bit and aids does take a long time. You can't just jump on a feral horse and expect them to listen to you. Horses are usually backed (sat on) at between 4-6 years old but they may have had a saddle and bit on for short periods before hand. Horses don't accept tack because they care about whether it helps their rider not fall off, they do it because they have been trained to do it.

Crops and spurs

Crops (whips) and spurs are both aids that, when used properly, cue horses to perform certain movements. Both are more than capable of being abused. You can hurt a horse with a whip just as easily as with a spur, however, used properly, a spur allows you to make smaller, more finnessed aids with your leg than using your heel. A whip or crop can be used in a similar way, especially with horses who like to swing their shoulders or hips one way or the other - the whip just extends your reach.

English vs western

English and western are the two main styles of riding that are most common these days.

English riding includes dressage, jumping, and eventing. These sports are complicated so I won't go into them, but generally the saddles are lighter and allow for a closer connection to the horse, and more ability to move in the saddle - to stand in the stirrups, to get deeper into the saddle, etc.

Western riding is more ranch style riding, and include disciplines like reining, barrel racing, cutting and other sports involving cows. Western saddles are what you see in cowboy movies, and tend to be much heavier and more restrictive - they down allow you to move around so much.

Horses can be affectionate

It does depend a bit on the horse, but horses can absolutely be affectionate. They do this by calling out to you, coming over to you in the paddock, and sniffing and nuzzling at you. They do think with their stomach though, and a great way to get your horse to be excited to see you is to always bring them food.

Horses don't neigh that much

This is a big bug bear in movies. Horses really really really don't usually neigh that much. In fact, they don't make a lot of noise at all in general. They will call to their friends sometimes, and they make a range of whuffling, nickering, snuffling sounds, snorts and grunts, but the way movies show horses screaming their heads off all the time is totally false. They're usually pretty quiet.

That's it for now, but feel free to reach out if you have any other questions. I hope this post spreads as far as the other one did because. . .yikes there was a lot of wrong information in there!

[masonmount-vii]

It'll Make Sense Some Day

Part Three

april twenty-second

"Wait. Back the fuck up. You're going out with Mason tomorrow, and you're just now telling me?" Millie asks the day before you and Mason are going to meet for a coffee.

"We're not going out, Mills, we're just getting a coffee, there's a difference!"

"That's what they all say," your sister mumbles, but you ignore her.

"It's really not a big deal-"

"They all say that, too."

"Because we were friends for a long time, and well... We're both older now. We can handle this like adults, believe it or not."

"I never said you can't handle this like an adult, Y/N," Millie explains, "I just can't believe you just decided to meet up with him without consulting Mum or I, like you usually do."

"I don't always do that!" You protest, crossing your legs underneath you as you sit on the couch, some random show on the TV playing in front of you.

"Okay, maybe not. But the point is, you've not been talking about Mason for 9 and bit years, it isn't likely for you that this just changes overnight. What happened?"

"I need a date to Rachel's wedding, so i decided to make a Tinder for that, and the next thing i know, I matched with Mase."

Millie laughs. "Oh, my god. You know there are plenty of guys at my work that i could set you up with? This one guy, Eric, comes into work everyday and just rants about how he doesn't have a girlfriend. I don't think you'd like him, though. He's a bit self cantered."

"Then why bring him up?" you mumble, as Millie keeps talking.

"Anyway, how did you match with Mason and not even know? Were you swiping through so fast that you didn't know?"

"I honestly don't even know how it happened. I guess i just wasn't paying attention, and the next thing i knew, i was matched with him."

"That's hilarious. No offence, sis."

"None taken, except it wasn't particularly funny in the moment. Actually, it was terrifying. I called him after, though, and we cleared everything up."

"Good. Just remember, i'm going to tell this story at yours and Mason's wedding."

"Millie! I'm not even in love with him anymore, and he sure as hell probably isn't with me. We're just going to be friends and see where it goes."

"Come on, you can't be immune to the fact that your life is like something out of a rom-com. Which isn't a bad thing, in fact, can you send some of that my way?"

"Why? Aren't you still with Leo? Millie, you guys have been together forever."

"Your sister sighs. "i am, yes, but i just feel like our relationship has lost some of the spark it had when we first met, Do you know what i mean?"

"Not personally, no but for the sake of this conversation, yes. What exactly do you mean by 'spark?' Like, sex?"

"That's part of it, but Leo and I never do fun couples' things anymore. He doesn't buy me flowers spontaneously or take me on romantic trips."

"Do you want him to do things like that?" You ask.

Millie has never been a spontaneous person, when she was ten, she showed our parents her entire life plan, and has stuck to it so far to a T.

"I think, I don't know."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

It takes your sister a second for her to answer. "No."

"Well, there you go. Just talk to him, ask if you guys can have a night where you go out for dinner one night, instead of staying at home. Make small changes to your relationship that make you happy, before you expect giant romantic gestures."

"Wow, I should ask you for advice more often," Millie laughs.

"I give good advice sometimes, you know."

"Yeah. Well I should get going, but tell me how your date goes tomorrow!"

"It's not a date!" You yell, but Millie hangs up the phone, cutting you off.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Sorry it’s a really short one 💓

[piratefalls]

i have no real opening remarks, so have some fic, mind the tags, and have a good day!

masterlist

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine

Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it. “No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.” Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

Only Fools by OrchidScript

Henry rolled his eyes. “No. You tell me — that sounds better — why I should bring my ex-hook up to my brother’s wedding?” Pez hummed and half-shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? He’s the perfect thing to light your gran’s helmet of hair on fire.” Pez set his cup down and leaned forward onto the table. “That’s what Pip encouraged you to do, didn’t he?” “Martha more than Pip, but yes. He did.” Henry sighed. “Then ask Alex.” -- With his brother's wedding a few weeks away, Henry Fox is determined to not show up alone. Not wanting to ask a stranger, he instead turns to Alex, hoping to manufacture something believable from something familiar. Try as he might to keep a level head, Henry can't help falling in love with the man. Will it come around to bite him or will it turn into something more than he had hoped?

kitchen confidential by stutteringpeach

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” ~ Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by affectionatelyrs

“Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?” There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react. “Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?” - Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

getting good now by Standinginmoonlight

Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.” Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

A Sin Better Than Heaven by AnchoredArchangel

“Show me,” the king says, a demand. He sets the vial back down, careless to where it lands compared to where it originated. He leans back against the table, crosses his arms over his chest; chin raised, jaw set- a picture of regality. Henry’s heart is pounding in his chest, the unstable beat of too many horse hooves overlapping, like the canter through the woods that very afternoon before he was shoved from his saddle. For the first time, he considers the possibility that perhaps he had hit his head harder than he realized- against the ground or against the tree, because certainly his hope is misplaced; certainly he is not following this conversation as well as he presumed. “Show you what, Your Majesty?” The king only deigns to move a hand, untucking it from his elbow in order to wave it vaguely. “How your body responds to men.” Or: A criminally loose reimagining of the tent scene from Mary & George, only Alex is a sexually confused king, and Henry's the one who has been sent to seduce him.

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by anincompletelist

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

Silence & Sound by @nocoastposts

Alex tugs at his hair and tries to focus on choosing his next words. He knows that Henry will help him - that he wants to help him. He knows that all he has to do is say the word. Henry stands and steps closer, holding Alex’s chin firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes are forced to meet. “You need me to clear that lovely head of yours, hm?” “Please,” Alex says in barely a whisper. or: Henry helps Alex fill the silence before indulging in the sound.

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

all so human with our guards down by maxbegone

“Constant fear is debilitating,” Alex tells him later on. The sun has risen, though it’s barely prominent through the dark clouds in the sky. “Even in the world we live in now, you need to find the things that make it feel…normal.” Of course, Alex isn’t even sure that makes much sense, and he thinks about doubling back on what he just said with something stupid and word-vomitty, whatever pops into his head first, but Henry beats him to it. Much more suitable, and it puts Alex’s mind at ease: “I’m starting to think you’re right.” The world ended three years ago. No more all-night study sessions, no more drag brunch and mimosas, no more societal expectations. But out of everything Alex was expecting from an apocalypse, Henry sure as hell wasn't it.

Dallas, Texas by annesbonny

i thought I knew hopelessness. i thought I'd learned its specific dread years ago There's an assassination attempt on Ellen, Henry is caught up in the damage. Alex is... coping about as well as you would expect.

Best Practice in Sexual Favours by everwitch

They meet at a bar. Alex is young; fresh out of law school, sharp and charismatic and oh-so attractive. The sex is absolutely incredible, and Henry has no regrets. At least not until the morning after when he finds himself opposite Alex in a meeting — equipped with the painful knowledge that Alex’s boss thinks Alex’s only function in said meeting is to sit there and look all pretty. Somebody ought to call HR right about now. Or: when sexual relationships mix with professional ones, Alex and Henry make the most of it.

this is the first time I've felt the need to confess by theprinceandagcd

Alex frantically unlocks his phone and stares at their text thread, at the heart reaction that Henry had left on his most recent message. His thumbs hover uselessly over his screen, trembling as moisture burns his vision. The entire room is thick with uneasiness, heavy enough that it’s hard to breathe, and Alex wants to tell Henry something, wants to reach out and find the solace that Henry so often offers him without even realizing it. But mostly, as his brain finally catches up to what’s actually happening, all Alex can think is that he doesn’t want to die. He tries to come up with a list of reasons why in his head, a comprehensive one that probably should include family and career goals and a million other things, but in the end, in the moment, all he can fucking think about is Henry.

out of the kitchen by rizcriz

Alex looks to his right where Henry’s standing at his own door. Any moment now, Gordon Ramsay is going to tell them to turn the handle and one of them is going to cascade into a new life. He doesn't care if his door doesn’t open; in fact, he’d rather it didn’t. He’s come all this way, he’s proven himself as a chef, but there’s no denying that the man beside him was made for this role. For the last five weeks, he’s watched as Henry’s given his all to every challenge and dinner service. -- or, the Hell's Kitchen au literally nobody asked for.

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by coffeecatsme

Henry doesn’t doubt that, just as much as he doesn’t doubt now that Alex won’t have a single issue with him being trans. In another life, when Henry whispered it in the quiet hours of the night, he didn’t. In another life, when he kissed Henry anyway, he didn’t. In another life. In this one, when Alex meets his eyes, all there is left behind them is a cold glare that freezes Henry to his soul. One year ago, Henry had a whirlwind of a day with Alex after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, only to leave in the morning to protect his heart. He doesn't expect to see Alex again, until he shows up at June's wedding and finds out her brother is the same Alex he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a year - and he's pissed.

Fragile Things by SatinBirds

Alex does not scare easily. But the moment he sees Henry fall, all breath leaves his body at once.

Trim my Christmas tree by clottedcreamfudge

Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway. Ho ho ho.

All Kinds of Wounds by allmylovesatonce

It throws Alex off when it takes longer for the door to close, when he hears Henry’s footsteps but doesn’t hear him approaching. As he listens closer, there are steps on the stairs and eventually the sound of feet on the second floor. Henry avoided him. Henry gets hurt at the shelter and tries to hide it from Alex.

blurred lines by seafloor

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

keep me up all night/ i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges. Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything. Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb. “Get on the couch.”

Voted most likely to run away with you by dreamsinthewitchouse

Alex drifts into consciousness in a bed full of tangled limbs and warm, sleep-rumpled skin. He’s lying half on his stomach and half on his side, the shoulder smushed against the bed protesting in a way that tells him he’s going to have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day. But fuck if he cares, with Henry stirring next to him, one of his long legs draped over the back of Alex’s thigh. Alex doesn’t need to open his eyes to know the room is hazy with filtered sunlight, spilling pale yellow through the carelessly drawn curtains.

everything just stops by HypnosTheory

Alex hums, pushing his nose into the side of Henry’s cock. “Let me give you your gift, Hen.” “You’ve already given me my gift,” Henry says, fingers tightening on the edge of the countertop. “Twice.” Alex laughs and takes Henry’s cock back into his mouth. Henry keens, knees shaking. He’s oversensitive already; Alex woke him up with a hand on his cock, and then in the shower surprised him with three fingers against his prostate. Each orgasm was greeted with a happy birthday, baby, which is a phrase that’s starting to have a Pavlovian response on Henry. --- Alex gives Henry all the birthday orgasms - Henry believes turnabout is fair play.

the wrong place by congee4lunch

“I don’t want you, I don’t want anything to do with you, Alexander,” Henry breathes out, his breath ghosting over Alex’s lips. “I just want to feel good.” “Perfect,” Alex grins. “I want the exact same thing, Fox.” henry and alex hate each other. when they're forced to share a hotel room and a bed for a night, they fuck about it.

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here. “And if you only hold me tight…” A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Late Bloomer by @sparklepocalypse

Alex Claremont-Diaz is sixteen years old, and he hasn’t presented. His dad seems to think it’s fine and offers Alex regular reassurance that his cousin Angel hadn’t presented until nearly 20. His mom, though, gets a little crease between her eyebrows whenever she thinks Alex isn’t looking. Presenting is a Big Deal in the Claremont family, and Alex just... hasn’t. So Alex is sixteen, and he’s… a boy. That’s it. Just a boy. Not a boy and an alpha like his friend Marco, or a boy and an omega like his friend Noah. Just a boy.

living in a new normal by @forever-fixating

Henry Fox could write an entire dissertation based on how much information his twin nieces Penelope and Grace have told him about their favorite band, Austin Heat. The girls peppered him with neverending facts since he surprised them with tickets and meet-and-greet passes to their concert at Madison Square Garden last Christmas. -- Henry Fox takes his nieces to a concert of their favorite band, Austin Heat. He gets a bit more than he bargained for when he meets singer and guitarist Alex Claremont-Diaz.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift

[swaps55]

Okay, but if I ask *nicely* will you yell about how Shadowfax can't do lead changes? :D

MY TIME HAS COME.

Ok. So. When horses are moving at a canter or a gallop, they have ‘leads.’ As in, one front foot and one hind foot is always ‘leading’ the opposite foot. Generally, when they are tracking to the right, they will lead with their right foot, and when tracking left, they’ll lead with their left foot. Turning is smoother when the lead foot matches the direction you’re turning.

Horses can change leads while moving at speed. It works a lot like a skip, only they have to skip the front and the hind end. Changing leads is something horses do naturally, but they can also learn to do it on cue. The trick is getting them to change both the front and the hind in the same stride. If they don’t – and what usually happens is they change the front end but take another step or two to change the hind – their movement gets really choppy because their front and hind ends are on different leads. This can cause you problems when jumping a course, for instance, when you sometimes have to change directions quickly.

Here's a video that demonstrates it:

SO. Imagine my horse-obsessed ass sitting the theater at the midnight showing of The Two Towers, eyes peeled for Shadowfax, because the Lord of Horses was going to be in front of my eyeballs AT LAST, and if Asfaloth in Fellowship of the Ring was not the Lord of Horses, then holy fuck I can’t wait to see who IS.

...

Before I continue, let’s talk about the Flight to the Ford.

This is one of my favorite sequences in film, and it’s largely because Asfaloth is such a badass. Watch this horse’s feet throughout this sequence. This horse is carrying two fully costumed riders (I can’t remember if they had Kiran – Elijah Wood’s stunt double – actually in the saddle for those scenes, but even if they didn’t, they had something bumping along up there) while moving at high speeds, turning, and jumping.

WATCH THIS HORSE’S FEET.

The way this horse moves, the way he changes leads is incredible to watch.

(Side note: the horse’s name is Florian, and his stunt rider, Jane Abbot, adored him and was devastated that she couldn’t afford to buy him when filming ended. Viggo Mortenson bought him for her, and when I looked, she still had him at age 29.)   

[gently takes your face in my hands] WATCH THAT VIDEO AGAIN.

I believe without question that Florian was indeed Asfaloth, Glorfindel/Arwen’s steed.

Hang on, I’m gonna go watch it again.

…

Ok. I’m better now. I’m fine. I’m not totally overwhelmed by how much I love Asfaloth and how quickly I would sell my soul to sit on that horse’s back.

Now let’s talk about Shadowfax.  

One of the Mearas. Lord of Horses. Who should definitely be able to do a really elegant lead change, because of the whole Lord of Horses thing.

As Shadowfax is running down the hill towards Gandalf, he’s on his left lead. Since he’s about to bend right towards Gandalf, he switches to his right.

In the front.

It takes him another step and a half or so to get the hind end to follow suit.

Is that totally normal for a horse, especially one with no rider? Sure.

BUT THIS IS SHADOWFAX, LORD OF FUCKING HORSES.

ASFALOTH IS OUT THERE DODGING RINGWRAITHS WITH TWO PEOPLE ON HIS BACK AND SWITCHING LEADS ON THE FLY LIKE IT AIN’T NO THANG AND THIS ‘LORD OF HORSES’ CAN’T EVEN HANDLE A HILL.

This was your BIG INTRO, man. There was inspirational music. The rapt attention of Aragorn, Legolas, and fucking Gandalf, and he flubbed the lead change.

SHADOWFAX: LORD OF LAZY LEAD CHANGES.

It’s been over 20 years and I am still not over it. Asfaloth was better, fight me.

[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 3

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 6.7K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 2 | Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 3

“Lookin’ good, cowboy!” Shayla called, phone held up as Jake cantered back to the barn. The mare he was riding - Starlight - tossed her head, and he couldn’t help but smile. It’d been too long since he’d been in the saddle. 

“I didn’t think you’d be up,” he replied, gently tugging the reins to stop Starlight beside her. 

“Your mom was vacuuming the hallway,” she shrugged. He chuckled - he’d been wondering how long Mama would let her sleep in until 10:00AM before getting her out of bed. Apparently, guest privileges lasted two days. Shay stepped back, panning the camera to follow him as he dismounted, patting the horse’s neck before taking her bridle and leading her back into the barn. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was still filming. At his raised eyebrow, she giggled. “Sorry, you’re just so fucking sexy. This is gonna get a ton of views.” Facing forward, he clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything. Leading Starlight into her stall, he removed her tack and gave her a quick brush before tossing a blanket over her back. Shayla stopped him when he moved to get a treat from the feed barrel. “Can I?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, retrieving a carrot and handing it to her. She shoved the phone into his hands and looked at him expectantly until he lifted it to film her feeding the horse. As soon as it was gone, she spun towards him and threw her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. Jake kissed her back, willing himself to feel something as her tongue traced his lips. Her hands fell to his waist, slipping into his jacket and tugging his shirt from his jeans. “Shay,” he said, catching her hands.

“Come on, Jakey,” she cooed. “I miss you.” 

“I - ”

“Jacob THOMAS Seresin!” Jumping back as though he’d been scalded, he turned to see his mother standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and green eyes flashing. 

“Ma’am?” he frowned, watching as her eyes shot to Shayla and her scowl deepened. 

“Do you have something to tell me?” 

“Ma’am?” he repeated. 

“Do you. Have. Something. To tell. Me.” He glanced at Shay, who gave him a shy smile. 

“Uh…” 

“I’d like you to explain to me, young man, how it is right for a mother to find out that her baby is having a baby on the internet. Why did I get a text from Betty, whose daughter found it on TikTok, instead of hearing it from you? Hm?” 

Jake whipped around to scowl at Shayla, stepping back from her. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I… may have dropped a hint in the last video. It was just us getting here.” He ran a hand down his face, remembering how she’d filmed herself with her hand on her stomach in the car. Turning to face his mother, she said, “Sorry to have you find out this way, but surprise! Looks like you have two grandbabies on the way!” 

Taking a deep breath, his mother closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. After a moment, she squared her shoulders and pinned them with a heavy gaze. “I’m happy for you, but you need to tell your father before he finds out this way. We deserved to hear it from you directly, not from some video about you coming into our home and sneaking around with the news.” 

“Yes, Ma’am. We’ll do that right now.” Jake sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Mama.” She stared at her youngest son, her face the picture of disappointment, before nodding and spinning on her heel, leaving the barn. When she was out of sight, he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his phone.

“Ja - ”

“Stop. You’ve already made this bad enough,” he cut Shayla off while pulling up her account and looking at the newest post. She’d done a voiceover explaining that they were visiting his family to share some exciting news and had filmed herself standing behind his family. He watched as she collected eggs with his mother, when his father had taken her on a tour of the milking barn, and Ally and Will exercising one of the horses on the walker. In each clip, she had her back to them, her hand on her stomach, and winked at the camera. “Did you even ask them if they were okay with being in your video?” Jake demanded. 

Her silence spoke volumes, and he glanced at the stats. It already had over ten thousand views and hundreds of likes and comments. “I’m sure they don’t - ”

“My family is off limits,” he snapped. Without another word, he stormed out of the barn. The cold air cooled his flushed face, and he pulled off the Longhorns hat he’d found in the back of his closet to run a hand through his hair. “Fuck!” he growled, throwing the cap onto the ground in a moment of frustration. After snatching it up and dusting it off, he folded the bill, slipped it into his back pocket, and headed toward the milking barn where he’d helped Pops and Will drive the herd. After swapping his shoes for wellies, he stepped inside. 

“ - Alright, I’ll be there in a bit,” he heard his father say, frowning as he spoke into his phone. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Jake glanced at Will, who raised an eyebrow. 

“Everything alright?” Will asked as soon as he hung up. Bill Senior glanced at his sons, gaze lingering on Jake momentarily before nodding.

“Need to head into town for a bit. You two able to take care of all this?” he asked, motioning to the cows. Will nodded, raising an eyebrow - their father was always supervising milking, only taking a day off when their mother forced him to stay in bed sick. With a firm nod at his sons, Bill headed out.

“Sir, can… I need to tell you something,” Jake said, hurrying after him after trading a look with his brother.

“Make it quick, son.” Standing before his father, Jake suddenly felt like he was 16 again, telling him he wanted to join the Navy instead of following the family farming tradition. 

“Sir… Pops…” Bill pressed his lips together and glanced at his watch. Taking a steeling breath, Jake straightened his shoulders. “Shayla’s pregnant. I…I’m going to be a father.” 

The older man wasn’t expecting that. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth fell open. The two stared at one another for a long moment before Bill smiled and pulled his son in for a hug. “Congratulations, Jacob. I’m happy for you.” 

It was on the tip of Jake’s tongue to admit his fear. He was worried that he would never feel for Shay the way that Pops felt for Mama. That he would be a horrible dad. That he would screw up his kid by trying to force himself to fall in love with their mother. But instead, he simply hugged his father back, clearing his throat before saying, “Thanks.”

Julie forced herself not to turn and investigate the screeching noise, instead continuing work on her batches of buttercream frosting. Taking a deep breath, she checked the consistency. She tried not to panic at how much her oven going out was throwing off her carefully created schedule to complete the massive order for the mayor’s Christmas Eve party. 

By this time, she should have already had nine pans of macarons cooling and another two baking. The morning had started normal enough - she’d taken the day off of work but was up at 4:00AM to bring her ingredients to room temperature and get through some emails. A bride she was working with for a mid-January wedding was debating her flavor choices again. Julie hoped she didn’t need to add updating a contract to the list of tasks.

The first few hours were spent prepping and portioning out her ingredients. The mayor had asked her to make 8 heart shaped cakes (one for every year they’d been in office) as well as party favors - about 300 macarons in assorted flavors in small boxes, as well as 100 cupcakes and a cookie decorating set to keep the kids entertained. With a day and a half to get everything done, it shouldn’t have been a problem, especially with the plan of getting up early and staying up late. It was her last big order before calling it for Christmas baking. 

That was until her oven started acting up. It had taken forever to heat up yesterday, and the first cake had been undercooked and tasted sour. After checking her ingredients and confirming that everything was still fresh, she had a sinking feeling when her oven turned off.

A muttered curse followed a bang, and she turned to see Bill Seresin scowling at the back of the oven. When their eyes met, she panicked - those warm, familiar brown eyes were hesitant. Turning off the mixer, she turned to face him fully. “I’m afraid to say it, but you need a new oven.” 

“What? No! It’s… it’s just acting up, right?” Julie said, stepping closer and placing a hand on the cold stovetop. “There’s a loose connection or something. Has to be.”

“I’ve taken this thing apart, and I’m not seeing it. You can call Joey to take a peek, but from the looks of it, this thing’s ready for the scrap pile. I’m surprised it lasted this long.” 

“No, no, no, no, no.” Dropping her head into her hands, Julie felt tears prick in her eyes. She could not get an oven purchased and delivered to meet the deadline. She would have to call the mayor, apologize profusely, and refund her the total cost. And be out the cost of ingredients and a new oven.

There was a shuffling noise, and Mr. Seresin pulled her into his arms. “It’s alright, honey. We’ll get this figured out. I’ll have the boys haul this out, and we can head to the store this afternoon to get you a new one.”

Julie mentally ran through the calculations. Financially, her bank account could handle the unexpected expense. But even if they could get Jake and Will here to haul it out right away, it would be a three-hour round-trip drive to the nearest appliance store. If they had the oven she wanted in stock - a big IF - getting it back and installed would take even longer. And then there were the practicalities of breaking in a new oven - learning the hot spots, figuring out if the display temperature was the actual temperature, the timing, etc. “Even if I get a new oven, I’ll still be too far behind schedule,” she huffed, forcing herself to straighten. 

“Alright. Pack up your stuff. I’ll let Kerry know that we’re on our way.” 

“What?” 

“You need a kitchen, and we’ve got one. You get to gatherin’, and I’ll let Kerry know we’re on the way.”

“I… it’s not that simple,” Julie said, glancing around her kitchen. The idea of packing up everything and moving to another location was…And even then, she would need to figure out the nuances of the Seresin’s oven.

“Julie, you either bake at the ranch or call the mayor. What are you going to do?” 

“Jake, Will - go help your father,” Kerry said, glancing out the kitchen window to see her husband pulling into the driveway. Jake glanced up from his lunch and frowned. 

“What’s he need help with?”

“Carrying things in. Now go.” Both men pushed away from the table at their mother's brisk tone and wiped their mouths on their napkins. Shayla glanced up from her phone momentarily before scrolling her comments. Jake caught Mama’s irritated look - she hated phones at the table. After slipping their shoes back on, they descended the steps just as he pulled to a stop.

“Good. Hurry up and get this stuff inside,” he said, opening his door. 

“Need to go to the barn?” Will asked. 

“Kitchen. Put the bowls in the fridge and everything else on the counter.” The brothers shared a look and circled the truck to see the back seat stuffed with boxes and bags. 

“What the hell is this?” Jake asked. 

“Julie’s comin’ to use the kitchen. She had to run to the store to get more stuff, and I told her we’d set this up for her by the time she got here. So quit yapping and get movin’.”

“And she needs all this?” Bill and Will shared a look before shoving a box of cookie sheets into Jake’s arms. “I’m missing something.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Will muttered. “Julie’s a baker.”

“Since when?”

“What part of quit yappin’ and get movin’ didn’t you understand, Jacob?” His father snapped, adjusting his grip on a tote containing a mixer and another with some other machine. Flushed, Jake turned and walked back into the house. His mother was already wiping down the counters.

“Put that right there. Julie’ll get everything where she wants it when she gets here.”

“Since when is Cece a baker? I thought she worked at the bank.”

“She does both,” Mama replied, peeking into the box when he set it down. When he was about to ask another question, Pops entered the kitchen and nodded.

“There’s more that needs to come in.” Dismissed, Jake went back outside and completed an additional three trips. 

“Is she moving in?” Shayla asked, smirking at the bags and boxes currently cluttering the kitchen. 

“If that’s what she needs to do, then absolutely,” Mama said, glancing at her. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Shay stood and yawned before putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I’m gonna go take a nap. The baby’s making me tired.” She cast an expectant look at Jake, who glanced at his parents. When Shay took his hand, he let himself be led upstairs to the guest bedroom. 

“You feelin’ okay?” Jake asked while shutting the door behind him. “Other than tired, I mean.” It dawned on him that he hadn’t asked her how she was feeling with the pregnancy. 

“Ugh, I’m just ready to go home,” she replied, flinging herself onto the bed. “I miss my comfy blankets.” Pushing away the surge of irritation at her insulting his mother’s quilting, he crossed the room and sat beside her. Hesitantly, he reached out to put his hand on her still-flat stomach. It was crazy to think that in 7 months, there would be a little them. Shayla’s hand covered his, and his eyes rose to meet hers. 

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“A girl. You?” He shrugged, thumb lightly stroking. 

“There hasn’t been a Seresin girl in a couple of generations, so the odds are it’s a boy.” 

“Well, if that’s true,” she said coyly, running her fingers along his leg and sitting up. Her nose brushed his cheek before whispering, “I guess we’ll have to keep trying until we have a little girl.” Shayla kissed him, licking into his mouth as her fingers traced his cock through his jeans. When she tried to undo the button, he stopped her. She pouted while pulling back. “Jakey!”

“Not at my parent’s house.”

“But it’s been forever!” she whined. And she was right. They hadn’t slept together since the night of the Halloween party. As determined as he was to ensure they worked things out for their kid, he found it hard to forgive her for making out with someone else. She’d assured him that it was just a drunken accident, but he was struggling to move past it. 

“Not at my parent’s house,” he repeated. Standing, he moved to the window to shut the blinds, glancing down at the driveway. He watched as Cece pulled up, and his mother walked out to greet her. As soon as the car door was closed, Mama took her hands and squeezed them. 

Cece frowned and then smiled at whatever Mama said, shaking her head. Jake recognized the concern on his mother’s face as she reached up to brush a strand of hair behind Cece’s ear before cupping her face and saying something. The younger woman nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into a hug. 

“Come lay down with me, at least,” Shayla huffed. Reluctantly, Jake closed the blinds and laid down beside his fiancee, closing his eyes and thinking about the future. 

“Julie Louise Ryan!” Pops yelled as they sat around the dining room table waiting. Ally smirked at Will before quickly sipping her water to hide it. Jake lifted a hand to cover his mouth, exchanging a look with Mama. 

“Sorry,” Cece apologized, stepping out of the kitchen. “Just needed to get the cakes in the fridge.” The only open seat was between Shayla and Pops, and she quickly dropped into it. A smile tugged at Pop’s mouth as he nodded and clasped his hands, bowing his head. Everyone followed suit.

“Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this food we are about to receive to nourish and strengthen our bodies. We thank thee for our family seated around this table and for another day on this blessed land. We ask for a special blessing for Julie as she works tonight. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Everyone echoed the amen. Opening his eyes, Pops reached over and covered Julie’s hand, squeezing gently before nodding at Mama. She took the platter of roast beef she’d made in the crockpot to ensure that the oven was open all afternoon for Julie and passed it to Will. 

“How’s it going?” Ally asked, reaching for the dish of cooked carrots.

“I’m still behind schedule, but the cupcakes are done, and I’ve got three more cakes to do. The cookies and macarons will be the worst,” Cece replied, handing the salad bowl to Shayla. 

“Can we help?” Mama asked.

“No, I’ll get it. I just need to figure out the system for the macrons since they’re the most temperamental. It’ll be a lot of trial and error, but I grabbed more almond flour on my way over, so at least I’ll have that.” 

“Well, you’ve got plenty of taste testers,” Will added. “I still have dreams about that bourbon bacon cake you made for my birthday.” Cece smiled and accepted the roast beef Pops handed her, spearing some onto her plate. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing that fancy this time. Just doing gingerbread, cranberry, peppermint, and eggnog.”

“If you want, I could include you in one of my videos. Maybe get you some more attention outside of here,” Shayla offered. “I’d just want to get a couple of shots of myself helping you with something. Maybe frosting one of the cakes?” 

“Oh.” Cece glanced at Jake, who raised an eyebrow at Shayla’s unexpected offer. “That’s…that’s generous, but I’m good. I…uh… film for my own account.”

“How many followers do you have?” Shay asked as Jake’s eyebrows shot higher. Beside him, Will nudged him to pass the mashed potatoes. 

“Four hundred thousand, last I checked.” Smiling a bit more pointedly, Shayla chuckled.

“I remember when I had that many. I’m at 3 million or so. If we collab, I’d tag you so my followers could find you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Stay up with me for a 22-hour workday! Between my day job and baking - ” Jake tapped his phone screen as Cece’s video looped, pausing it as she buried her face in her hands while leaning on the kitchen counter. He’d been scrolling her page for about an hour, working backward through her content.

He was impressed and exhausted just watching her. A lot of her videos documented going from her job at the bank right into the kitchen and ending with her in the car for a delivery. It was clear why she was always busy - Cece was talented. Jake had never been interested in watching cooking videos. Still, he was glued to the screen, watching her smoothing icing, decorating, and pouring ganache into bowls. There were also a couple of brand partnership videos. 

But it was the video announcing Mr. Ryan’s death that broke his heart. Jake had watched it three times. There were clips of them working together in the kitchen, her father helping her package her treats, tasting flavors, and bandaging up her finger when she sliced it with a knife. And then Cece was alone, sitting on the floor next to the oven with her back against the cabinets as she sobbed. “My daddy always told me that I needed to start living for myself, so that’s what I’m gonna do,” she said in a voiceover while breaking a peanut butter cookie in half and popping it into her mouth. “I promised him that I’d follow my own dreams for once, so I’m putting it out into the universe that I’ll be a full-time home baker one day. Hell, maybe I’ll have my own bakery.” 

Sighing, he set the phone on his chest and ran a hand down his face. When Mama had called to let him know about Mr. Ryan, Jake had almost picked up the phone and called Cece. But after nearly seven years without talking - only exchanging ‘Happy birthday’ messages on social media - calling out of the blue seemed like a lot. Especially when she was mourning. The family had ensured he knew how Mr. Ryan was doing, and he wasn’t surprised when Cece moved back to Magnolia. As much as he loved her life in Austin, she was a daddy’s girl through and through. She never would have let him go through treatment alone.

Jake reached for his water glass and frowned at finding it empty. Shit. Knowing that Cece was still working, he debated calling it a night but was still wide awake and thirsty. Grabbing his shirt from the dresser, he crept into the hallway. Light shone from Shayla’s doorway, and he quickly darted past it to the stairs, hoping to avoid another confrontation after sending her back to the room earlier in the evening.

“Shit, god damn, motherfucker,” Cece hissed, setting another tray of macaron shells onto the countertop. Her head whipped up when she heard Jake snort, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Don’t tell your Pops.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’d wash your mouth out with soap,” he chuckled, walking to the refrigerator. It was filled with wrapped-up cake layers, chilling bowls of filling, and cupcakes. Turning, he glanced at the counters covered with unbaked trays. He could see her phone set up on a tripod, recording her as she worked. “I’d ask how it’s going, but I get the feeling it’s not good.”

“Nope,” she replied, tugging the pot holder from her hand and running her fingers through her hair before turning off the camera. “I’m on my sixth tray of these and can’t get the fuckin’ oven figured out.” 

“What’s the issue?” he asked, glancing at the tray of cracked white cookies before her. 

“It’s too hot, and there’s a hot spot in one of the corners.” Picking up one of the cookies, she turned it over and glared. “It doesn’t even have even feet.”

“Feet?” 

“The shells rise a little bit when they bake.” Tossing the shell back onto the tray with a huff, she turned to the oven and lowered the temperature. Jake snagged one of the overbaked cookies and ate it.

“’Face good, dough,” he said, breathing out steam as he burned his mouth. Cece raised an eyebrow at him and smirked as he chugged half of his water. “Damn, that was hot.” 

“Overcooked and straight out of the oven. I thought you were supposed to be smart, Seresin.” 

“You know better than to put something you made in front of me and not expect me to try it,” he shot back. She rolled her eyes and walked to the sink to wash her hands, drying them on the towel thrown over her shoulder. 

“At least try something that’s not burnt,” she prompted, grabbing a plate with cake scraps. Jake cocked an eyebrow and took a piece of the brown cake, groaning at the rich gingerbread taste, making her grin. 

“Jesus, Cece, this is great.”

“Thanks. I had some extra gingerbread cupcakes, so I figured I’d decorate those for your parents as a thank you for letting me take over the kitchen today.”

“I think my parents would agree with me when I say you don’t have to do that, and you should focus on your order so you can get some sleep.” 

“I’ll sleep tomorrow after I deliver this,” she shrugged, setting the plate down and lightly running a finger over one of the uncooked macaron shells. Apparently satisfied, Cece nodded and opened the oven, peering inside. “Okay, let’s hope tray seven is a winner.” After sliding it onto the rack and setting a timer for 13 minutes, she turned to face him, glancing at her camera. “Do you mind if I… I’ll keep you out of the frame and edit you out.” 

“Yeah, sure.” She nodded and repositioned the tripod before picking up an icing bag. Jake watched as she piped wreaths onto five of the smooth, white tops of the cupcakes in individual boxes before picking up a pair of tweezers and placing sprinkles. The timer went off while she was working on the third one.

“I’ll get it,” he offered, grabbing the pot holder and quickly shutting off the alarm. Making sure the hot tray wasn’t close enough to burn her, he held it out and watched her scowl. “No?”

“Better, but still not it. Would you mind dropping the temp another 5 degrees?” Setting the tray down, he did as she asked and sat on one of the kitchen stools to watch her. Cece looked up at him through her lashes as she resumed decorating. “What?”

“Nothin’. Just… I didn’t realize that you were doin’ this.” 

“Baking?”

“As a business.” At her shrug, he sighed and motioned to the phone. “And the whole… How long have you wanted to do this?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a baker.” When he let out a huff of surprise, Cece set down the sprinkles and quickly closed the cupcake boxes, stacking them at the end of the counter. 

“You never said anything about it.”

“I didn’t think it was an option.” Jake watched her check the oven before putting another tray in. 

“Why wouldn’t it have been an option?” 

“It takes a long time to build up the skills and even longer to build a client base. If we were going to - ” She cut herself off, and Jake felt a jolt in his stomach. “I didn’t think I would have time to do it.” 

“And you do now?” 

“The internet helps. I do a lot of orders out of state, so I drive a lot. And I’ve figured out how to ship so I can get some cookies out. But yeah, I’ve had more time to focus on building my business.” Assembling five more boxes, she dropped cupcakes into them and picked up the piping bag again. “What about you? How’s life in the Navy?”

Lonely was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. When he’d moved to San Diego, he’d gotten closer to the Daggers, but since Shayla had entered the picture, it felt like they’d regressed from friends to coworkers. Nights at the Hard Deck were rare, and he was unlikely to have much time to hang out with a baby. “Fine,” Jake shrugged. Pausing to twist the bag, Cece raised an eyebrow.

“Fine? After all that work and excitement to finally fly, it’s just ‘fine’?” For something to do, he grabbed the cupcake boxes and assembled them, setting them to the side. 

“I love my job. It’s just… all the other stuff.” 

“Well, you’ll have a new adventure to keep you occupied at least,” Cece said, intently peering down at the cupcakes. “With the baby and all that.”

Jake froze, the kitchen silent except for the faint crinkle of the piping bag. “You, uh…I didn’t realize that you knew.”

“If you thought that Betty, the biggest gossip in town, wasn’t going to call me as soon as she found out to ‘warn’ me” - she lifted her fingers to do air quotes - “then you’ve been gone from Magnolia for too long. Plus, your Mama told me as soon as I got here.” Forcing her gaze up, she smiled, trying to banish any trace of sadness from her expression. “I’m happy for you, Jake. You always wanted to have kids.” 

Saved by the timer going off, he pushed to his feet and walked to the oven. The flash of heat when he opened the door gave him a cover for why his cheeks were flushed. Taking the pan out, he pushed away the memories of lying in bed together and trading half-conscious hopes for the future. “How are these?”

“Not quite. Another five degrees?” He nodded, placing the pan on the stovetop and lowering the temperature before returning to his seat. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“No, it’s fine. Don’t feel like you have to stay up - I’ve got this covered.” Ignoring the dismissal, he continued to assemble the cupcake boxes, sneaking glances at her as she worked. As the pile of boxes grew, he opened the fridge to count the cupcakes she’d be making. 

“Where are the finished ones going?”

“I have a bigger box in my car that I’m going to put these in,” Cece explained, glancing at the growing pile of finished cupcakes as she placed sprinkles.

“I’ll get it.” 

The clock was edging towards 2:00AM when Cece was finally satisfied with the macarons and was ready to work on the shells. Jake started another pot of coffee after finishing the first in the two hours they’d been working. While he stacked the finished cupcakes into a large box, she measured the ingredients, tossed them into the mixer, and prepared her cookie sheets. 

“Skip,” Jake called out as Achy Breaky Heart started to play in his earbud. 

“No appreciation for the classics,” Cece muttered, a smile tugging at her mouth as she tapped her earbud twice. The opening strings of Neon Moon started, and she couldn’t help but start to sway at the counter as Kacey Musgraves covered Brooks & Dunn. Jake heard her singing softly.  “I think of two young lovers running wild and free. I close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows of this smoke-filled room. No telling how many tears I've sat here and cried or how many lies that I've lied, telling my poor heart he'll come back someday.” 

The song faded into the next as she hand-finished mixing the meringue to ensure consistency. They started laughing at Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off. “Damn, I haven’t heard this one in forever,” Jake chuckled. Moving closer, he tapped her phone, pausing her recording, and pulled up the playlist to scroll through the songs. It took a minute to realize that it was a recreation of one of their road trip playlists from when they would drive the seven hours from Annapolis to Myrtle Beach for Spring Break. Pink dusted her cheeks when he glanced over at her, almost as though she was remembering those long drives, singing along with one another and brimming with the anticipation of finally being alone in their hotel room. No matter how much his buddies always wanted to split the cost, Jake and Cece had made sure that they had privacy at the end of the night to lose themselves in drunken kisses and hot showers. Those five days at the beach were stolen time that they needed. 

Back then, they thought one week together was enough to sustain a relationship. 

Cece shimmied while lifting the spatula to test the consistency. Satisfied, she brought the mixing bowl to where her piping bags and tips were prepped, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. She flicked her head to clear her sight when it fell back into place. Unwilling to strip off her gloves, she attempted to brush it away with her shoulder. “Hey, look at me.” 

“Huh?” Jake smiled and brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin when his fingers trailed down her neck, eyes widening as they met his. He watched her cheeks flush, her breath stuttering against his wrist. “T-thanks.” 

The song ended, fading into a slower ballad. “When I first saw you, I saw love. And the first time you touched me, I felt love,” Shania sighed. “And after all this time, you're still the one I love.” 

Cece dropped her gaze and tapped her earbud, changing the song without looking at him. Jake hesitated a moment before changing it back. “Can’t skip Shania,” he said gruffly. 

Widening her eyes, Cece blinked hard as she smoothed the icing of her last cake. It was Christmas Eve and the sun had already risen over the Seresin ranch, and she could hear muffled footsteps upstairs. Cooling racks covered all available space in the kitchen, and the dining room table was covered with boxed cakes and cupcakes. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, she glanced over at Jake, who had his head resting on his arms as he closed his eyes after matching the 600 macaron shells for her. Thankfully, they didn’t need to make too many extras. They only required a little decoration - before baking, she’d shaped the red, green, and silver cookies like Christmas ornaments, so a little drizzle of icing and a spritz of edible glitter would be enough to make them look shiny and finished. 

“Jake,” she said softly, smiling when he grunted in response. “Go to bed - you’ll be more comfortable.” 

“’ M awake, babe,” he mumbled, sitting up. Cece felt her heart clench at the slipped term of endearment, but Jake didn’t seem to realize he’d said it, so she also chose to ignore it. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for his cold coffee and drained the mug as they heard the stairs creak. 

“Morning,” Mama Seresin said, tucking her robe closer as she entered the kitchen. “Did you two sleep at all?”

“Mornin’ Mama,” Jake said, his lip twitching when his mother leaned to kiss his cheek. She circled the counter to do the same to Cece. “‘Izz it time for chores?” 

“Not for you,” the older woman said, giving her son a fondly exasperated look. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“I’m on the final stretch,” Cece yawned. “Just need to finish these two cakes, and then I’ll do the macarons and call it.”

“You’ll finish the cakes and then go to sleep, Julie Louise.”

“Yeah, Julie Louise,” Jake echoed, his smile fading as he lifted his empty mug. Narrowing her eyes, Cece plucked a candied cranberry from the tray drying at her elbow and lobbed it at him. Reflexes dulled by fatigue, the berry hit his forehead and fell into his lap. Grinning, he popped it into his mouth. 

“Jacob.” The warning tone in his mother’s voice made him try to stifle his grin, but he was unsuccessful. Setting aside her icing smoother, Cece picked up the tray of cranberries and dropped a handful into a dish of waiting sugar, shaking it to coat them. The Seresins watched - Cece flushing at their joint attention - as she arranged the berries along the edge of the two cakes before ripping apart rosemary sprigs and placing pieces. Taking a step back, she rubbed the back of her hand on her cheek as she studied them, debating adding more berries. “They’re beautiful, Julie. I’m sure the mayor is going to love them.” 

Without a word, Jake retrieved cake boxes from the dining room and assembled one while Cece did the other, trading a tired smile. She glanced at her watch as soon as they were slid into the boxes. Still behind schedule, but the macarons should only take about three hours between the decorating, assembly, and boxing. The sugar cookies would take another two hours to roll and bake, with another hour and a half to make the decorating kits. But as she stripped off her gloves and opened her mouth to say she was okay, Mama Seresin pinned her with a look. “Bed.” 

“But - ”

“Bed. Both of you. You have plenty of time to get the rest of this done before this afternoon, and I’ve already made up the guest bed for you. Now get.” 

The stern expression left no room for debate, and neither did the hand she wrapped around Jake and Cece’s arms and guided them out of the kitchen. Jake paused at the foot of the stairs to allow her to climb before him, watching her heavy footsteps as fatigue seemed to drag her down. Without thinking, he placed a hand on the small of her back to ensure she didn’t tip backward. 

Cece’s shoulder bumped his as they walked down the hall, and he nudged her back. Her tired eyes darted to meet his, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth before she hip-checked him. His lips curved into an answering smile as they paused outside the second guest bedroom. “Thanks, Jake. I wouldn’t have gotten nearly as much done tonight if you hadn’t helped,” she said, voice rough with exhaustion. 

“It was fun. Feel like I got a masterclass in making macarons.”  

“You were a pretty great assistant. Might hire you on for the next round of Christmas baking.” 

“Not done yet. You gotta show me how to get the ganache in them, and I’ll put the boxes together.” 

“You really don’t - ”

“I’m gonna help. I feel like I’ve earned at least tasting one of the finished macarons.” Chuckling, she shook her head.

“Maybe even two.” The playfulness disappeared from her expression as she looked up at him, “I’m serious, though. Thank you.” Jake nodded, catching the fleeting moment of hesitation before Cece stepped forward and hugged him. His arms wrapped around her, hand coming up to cup the back of her head and holding her tighter. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss into her hair. Her head lifted from his chest, and he spied sugar crystals on her cheekbone. Jake brushed them away with his thumb before lifting it to his mouth to lick away the sweet taste.

Cece’s breath caught, gaze narrowing to the flash of tongue behind his parted lips. His chest brushed hers with every breath. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Confusion and something so familiar swirled in those green eyes. She took a step back, only half surprised when he followed to pin her between the wall and his body. Her fingers curled in his shirt, and she wasn’t sure if it was to pull him closer or shove him away. His hand rose, hesitating a moment before curving around her cheek. 

Jake’s lips were soft against hers, a tentative brush that she could have imagined if it wasn’t for the rough scratch of his stubble. Her grip on his shirt tightened as he planted a hand beside her head, boxing her in as he pressed against her. The move made her whimper, and his breath caressed her skin as he laughed before they kissed again, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips and sliding against her own. Cece dug her nails into his back, inhaling sharply when he moaned against her mouth, his hips pressing against hers. “Baby,” he panted. “I missed you.” 

The words were like a wave of cold water thrown over her, and Cece shoved him away. Jake stumbled back, catching himself on the opposite wall. “Shit,” she breathed, pressing a hand to her mouth. 

“Cece?” Jake reached for her before letting his hand drop when he realized what they’d done. 

What he’d done.

The door to his parent’s room opened, and - when he turned to meet his father’s gaze - Cece darted into the guest bedroom. “Son, everything alright?” Pops asked, frowning at his youngest.

“Y-yes, sir. Just headed to bed,” Jake replied. 

Julie leaned against the door and hung her head inside the room, blinking back tears. “Fuck,” she whispered. 

-----------------------------------------

Read Chapter 4

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[moth-related-inquiries]

Micah Bell and Fem! Child! Reader: Eat Your Young

Warnings: Micah Bell, spoilers for red dead redemption two, use of guns, Micah Bell, Reader is an oddball, Micah Bell, sorry for weird formatting

A story in which Micah Bell can't seem to get a thorn out of his side, so he decides to work with what he's got.

When people think of Micah Bell, they certainly don't think of him as a family man. If anything, people think of the opposite. They're right in that assumption by all means, considering Micah's proud mattra of 'The Strong Will Survive and The Meek Will Die.' Yet, here he is, stuck babysitting some little runt they picked up back in Blackwater.

At first, he didn't mind it much. Every Tuesday, usually around the afternoon, you would walk over and sit next to him. No matter where he was, what he was doing, or who he was with, you'd always come sit next to him and just watch him. It was weird, but he didn't mess with it since you'd do the same thing to other members in camp.

Things only became a problem for him when you started following him everywhere. Whether he was going to the general store or out robbing some unfortunate folk, you'd always be in his shadow in some form or fashion. You really began to get on his nerves when you outright started talking to him, so, naturally, he told you to get lost.

You didn't listen one bit. In fact, you started accompanying him even more. It happened so much that Dutch appointed him as your babysitter. It was a stupid idea, but he accepted it in favor of keeping the peace with Dutch. He'd let you talk your little heart out, though occasionally he'd add a rude remark, and you'd either choose to ignore his words or misinterpret them entirely. It only began to grow unbearable when you started developing a snarky personality.

For a full week, he considered dropping you off in some random location. Hell, he thought about leaving you up in the snowy mountains of Colter. Anything to get this thorn out of his side. But, try as he might, he couldn't do it. He'd hoist you up on his horse, take you to some small town far away from camp, and try to leave you somewhere. Every single time you'd always end up giving him this dramatic look that would either stop him in his tracks or convince him to just turn around and take you back to camp. Your eyelids would visibly droop, your lips would pull out as if you were pouting, and your eyebrows would slant like some sad clown. He didn't know what that look meant, but it always reminded him of a scorned dog. All he knew is that he hated it and wanted it to stop.

After you finished your spectacle, he'd ride back to camp with you in front of him, scowling like he'd just been dealt a bad hand. Confused and angry thoughts would race through his mind like a stampede of bulls, knocking everything about in a hurried frenzy. He considered just throwing you off of his horse and galloping away, but some weak part of him held him back. Oh, how he loathes it. Now, here he is, stuck babysitting you, yet again. This time the two of you are riding through a new town: Strawberry. You look mildly interested, which oddly pleases Micah, and he decides then and there that, if you're going to stick around, then you're at least going to be useful.

"Hey, Kid." Micah spoke up from behind you, slowing Baylock to a smooth canter. "Your daddy ever teach you how to shoot?" He asked gruffly. He knew fully well that nobody had taught you how to shoot. It wasn't because you were a kid, but because you weren't taught at ALL. Over the last few weeks, many of which were spent being annoyed by you, Micah actually learned quite a bit about you. He learned it not from you directly, of course, but from others in camp.

When they first picked you up, Dutch made it a priority among the members to see what you know and what you can do. The first person to approach you was Susan, who bombarded you with questions about hygiene, self care, and your choice in fashion. She was utterly astonished by your lack of cleanliness, considering that all of the younger women she'd met knew fully well how important it was to be properly washed. Whether it be with mud, Pearson's stew, or a concotion of both, You frequently ripped the dresses she'd bought for you, further proving to her that you'd simply never been accustomed a life of properness.

The second person to approach you was Javier, who had approached you one bright morning asking if you'd like to go fishing with him. You agreed, and he brought you out to his spot. It took him only twenty minutes to realize that not only did you not know what a fishing pole was, you also didn't know anything about proper fishing. He gave up halfway when you purposefully chucked your fishing pole into the water just to retrieve the fish with your bare hands. Though he felt guilty about it, he decided it'd probably be best to let someone else help. Javier then decided to refer you to the second best man he knew: Arthur Morgan.

Arthur, being incredibly helpful with little Jack on many occasions, was expected to be the one to finally get across with you. And he did, for a short while at least. He'd often take you out to nearby towns and explained all of the occupations, what they did, and who went there. It was one of your favorite activities until the pair of you were approached by O'Driscolls in broad daylight. Arthur stood in front of you, prepared to protect you with everything he had. As he was trying to diffuse the situation, you slipped from behind him and ran away. Nearly an hour later, he found you hiding in a tight crevice below the beams of the railroad tracks. Arthur never brought you out of camp again.

After hearing about these countless misshaps, Micah was hesitant to take you anywhere. However, Dutch insisted that if he took you places every now and then, you'd eventually stop being so clingy. "No." you stated plainly, eyes trained on a distant river. Your eyes only moved when Micah placed you down on the ground, and hoisted himself off of his horse. "Well, I'm gonna teach you then. Come on." He hitched his horse on a post, and walked up to the gunsmith. He didn't bother looking back to see if you followed him.

The door swung open with a loud creak, alerting the gunsmith, an older balding gentleman, to their presence. "Ah, what can I do for you, mister?" He greeted Micah cheerfully, not noticing the small child behind him. "Oh, just looking to buy a nice gun for the kid, here." He grinned eerily, pulling you forward to present you to the Gunsmith. To anybody but himself, this venture would probably just seem like a strangely sweet gesture. Micah thought differently, though. If you were truly utterly horrible at everything else in life, that meant that HE could teach you without any prior restrictions. He could mold you into the perfect accomplice for his crimes.

"That's.. good. Uh, what are you looking for?" The older gentleman asked, pushing a book towards the two. Micah leaned forward and flipped the pages until he landed on the 'Double-Action Revolver.' He pointed at it in the book and placed his hand on your shoulder. His voice turned sickeningly sweet as he looked down at you, basically hugging your shoulder. "That one look good, kiddo?" He grinned, gently shaking your shoulder. You stared down at it, then up at Micah. He didn't wait for your permission and quickly stood up straight. "Get me one D.D Packenbush. Oh, and some revolver ammo, too." he demanded, immediately pulling out a wad of cash.

The Gunsmith shrugged and gathered the items in their own unique cases, then they exchanged items. Micah quickly ushered you out of the Gunsmith's and back onto his horse. Once the two of you cantered a safe distance away, Baylock broke into a trot. Micah reached into his saddlebag and pulled out your new toy and its ammo. "Here," he held out the revolver for you to take, "hold it and feel the weight of it." You stared down at the grip of the revolver and hesitantly grabbed it. It immediatly weighed down in your hand, but you managed to gain control. Baylock slowed down completely, and you found yourself in Tall Trees.

Micah hoisted you down and quickly jumped off of Baylock. "Grab this and load the revolver," He demanded, "I'm gonna find you somethin' to shoot." And that he did. Micah weirdly felt excited in this moment. It was just like when his dad taught him and Amos how to shoot. You looked a little confused at first, even afraid, but you opened the ammo box anyways. For a moment you just stood there staring at the box, unsure of what to do. You seemed like the kind of kid to learn best on your own, so he just stood there and waited for you to figure it. Eventually, you managed to pry open the cylinder and load up the bullets.

As you figured out how to cock the gun, Micah took the chance to set up a few empty bottles. "You got it all loaded up? Good. Show me what you've got then." He demanded. He rested on a nearby tree, purposefully too close to the bottles. You were, predictably, going to miss every single bottle. He knew that for certain. However, he wondered if you'd end up trying to hit him. "Okay." You stated blankly, and pointed it in the vague direction of the bottles. You shut one eye and fired, only for the kickback to startle you into nearly falling over. Micah chuckled lowly, but he didn't say anything.

After a couple more missed shots, you did something he didn't expect. You lowered your stance and stood there awkwardly staring at the bottles. Your shoulders tensed and you leaned down, grabbed a rock, and chucked it full force at one of the bottles. He was shocked when he realized that you finally lost your cool, and in doing so you actually hit one of the bottles. "You getting mad, girl? Good. Use that. Maybe you'll actually shoot somethin this time." He cackled, hoping to further anger you. It seemed to work since you huffed loudly and fixed your stance. This time you aimed the revolver at him, catching him off guard, and fired.

A crack sounded out through the air, causing Micah to flinch. You fired at him. You actually fired at him. And missed. At first he was enraged. He thought about whipping out his revolvers and ending your life right there. Yet, he had an epiphany. You understood his way of life. You understood that the weak deserve to die. That, if he leaves himself so vulnerable to attack, he should die. And yet you spared him just to show him that you'd be willing to kill him. He laughed, sounding low and sinister. A sense of pride bloom in his chest and he nearly sprinted over to you.

"You're a shit shot but... you've got potential girly. Reeeeal potential." He grinned, realizing just why he couldn't let you go. Maybe, just maybe, he could treat you like his own kid for once, and continue the Bell family name. That'd be a nice thought.

"Say, you ever been robbing before?”

A/N: Don't know why I made this, honestly. But I made it, and I like it. I really hate Micah, and I'm glad he's dead, but idk.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

Omg AU where carlos and charles were in a relationship which was forbidden by either of their's parents so they meet in private to cherish the moments

ouuuu why do charlos work so well in fantasy or historical settings? anyway, historical AU:

they’re both attending a debutante's ball as two of the most covetable bachelors of the season. charles is overwhelmed by the attention, and runs off to the stables. a quiet space, a safe space, where he won't be bothered by anyone.

he is there, talking softly to a mare, petting her muzzle and gentle with her. soft in a way he's not allowed to be in the confines of his role, and his gender.

carlos, trying to get away from an overenthusiastic suitor, arrives at the stables too. he is half-contemplating stealing a horse and riding away in the night. but he can't because his father is politically influential, a well regarded duke, and besides, carlos is too much of a dutiful son to truly sully the family name like that.

they lock eyes, frozen to the spot: one about to run away, and one wishing that he could be literally anywhere else.

"are you not enjoying the party?" charles asks.

"it is a bit suffocating, all those hands, all those eyes, i think."

one shakes his head disapprovingly. the other snorts.

carlos walks closer, quiet but confident, always comfortable around horses. they both grew up around them, and can read animals intuitively like that.

"do you want to run away?" charles says. it canters out of his mouth before he can think about it, before he can even reasonably consider what he is saying.

carlos makes a noise like charles has proposed that the earth may be round. "you are very funny."

but they stay in touch after that. starting a correspondence of letters, meeting each other on hunts and getting into friendly competitons while out in the woods. challenging each other to race to the end of the field on their horses, and the rest of the hunting party can't say a single thing about it because these are two of the most respected and titled men in the whole kingdom.

and racing each other, galloping towards the midafternoon sun in that vast field, is the freest they can be: shirts billowing, horses flying, gloves clenching on leather. pushing their abilities, and each other.

they brush hands. when moving past each other at other balls. while pretending to inspect new flowers in garden greenhouses. under the table at royal council meetings.

their hands are promised in marriage, but to others.

on carlos's wedding day, charles sits in the fourth row of the pews, and holds a pair of gloves very tightly in his hands.

the pair of gloves are not his own.

when the priest recites a passage about quiet devotion, carlos's eyes flicker to charles's.

charles's mouth opens softly in surprise.

the church has gone silent. it's carlos's cue.

(now you tell me how it ends....)

[horsesarecreatures]

My terrifying horse.

Someone new came to try Amba today because the girl from last week who I thought was a good match found another horse closer to her. I messaged back and forth with this new lady extensively last night, telling her that Amba is an Arabian and therefore sensitive, and she might be a little forward because she's not being ridden too much, but that ultimately she is a safe, rational horse who doesn't buck/rear/bolt etc. I also made it clear that while this barn has a lot of amenities, it is not a lesson barn, and many of the other boarders don't ride. She said, "Oh that's alright, I've been riding my whole life; I'm from Poland and grew up riding Arabs; I'd love to come ride her." So I said ok and we scheduled for her to try Amba this afternoon.

I met up with her at the barn, and she was too nervous to get Amba, groom her, or tack her up. But she insisted that she would be ok next time and just wanted to see me do it first. Fine, no problem. I got Amba tacked up and brought her to the indoor and rode her for half an hour first. I put her through all her paces and today she actually was able to canter semi-balanced in both directions (by semi-balanced I mean not as uphill and collected as she's capable of without EPM, but no head tossing, lead swapping, or cross firing). She was very obedient the whole time.

I then asked if she wanted to ride. She said she would prefer if I worked her a bit more. Figuring she just wanted me to exercise Amba until she got slightly tired and slow, I rode for another half an hour. We did all the lateral work that she knows plus spins. I ended by walking and trotting her on the buckle with her head down. Then I got off.

The lady said she was too nervous to ride. I said, "Are you sure? You can just walk for today or I could lunge you guys if you want." She said ok to just walking. I lined Amba up perfectly at the mounting block and held her. The lady put one foot heavily in the stirrup, stood there with her full weight in it forever without swinging up, and then shrieked and yelled "I can't do this; she's too nervous" when Amba finally stepped towards the weight. 😠

So all in all she was a huge time waster who misrepresented her ability and is not ready to ride horses outside of a lesson context. Then she said, "Call me when you're at the barn next and I'll try her again!" Like ummm no you will not. It's totally ok to be a nervous rider, but it's very inconsiderate to not be honest about it.

[fuglyhorses]

Followed your blog a few years back even though it wasn't active because I absolutely love it and have gone through it more than once. It was an awesome surprise to see you posting again! In celebration I now have a personal breeding story to tell you.

Some background is that when I got back into horses in 2019 turns out I made the wrong choice on who to go to, but I fell in love with a horse there and now can't leave her, so to cope I like to tell anyone who might be interested about the shit show I am experiencing.

The owner/trainer of the barn was given a horse that had originated from some hunter/jumper barn where they had ridden her over huge jumps at 4 years old and very clearly handled her harshly. When she didn't stay sound and developed behavioral problems they dumped her at a YMCA camp and some people who work there then gave her to the trainer. She tried to put her back in work but she was eventually deemed "unridable". She has behavior problems both in and out of saddle, she would be very difficult to lead, and just bomb through gates and in and out of stalls, she will also be fine for a long time then one day suddenly bite very hard. I'm absolutely sure most of this is due to pain or past pain. Besides having been ridden hard as a youngster she also has a tragic back end. I'm hoping I'm describing this correctly but she basically has no croup. Her topline is just flat from the end of her withers to her tail. Because of this she almost always cross canters behind. So, my trainer has a youngish, unridable, horse with big movement but problematic conformation, behavioral problems, and some kind of pain that prevents her from being truly sound. So what does she decide to do? Breed her of course! For you see, although she has no paperwork, she *supposedly* has warmblood in her! Actual warmblood, perhaps holsteiner or something similar. She apparently is registered with the "american warmblood association" which I know you know means nothing. The horse I ride could also be called an """american warmblood"" and I love her with all my heart but she is literally just a draft cross. So this means she must be a great sperm receptacle, because that's all mares are right? They aren't literally half the DNA of the foal right? Luckily the first year she tried it didn't take, if only the story ended there. Now, this was something that my trainer "always wanted to do" and I am relatively understanding to someone who in their whole horse career wants to have one home bred foal, the market is insane and it is a unique experience and sometimes they are very attached to the mare etc etc. Not something I encourage but I don't think you are the absolute worst if you do this. This is not actuall what my trainers ambition wound up being though. Fast forward to 2022 and the trainer's friend has decided she wants to breed her completely average thoroughbred mare, with no accomplishments to speak of, and picks out a different stallion than the one my trainer had already tried. He is a Westphalian stallion and he is Cremello! Because she wants a buckskin! So trainer's horse and friend's horse get sent down to this guy. In the meantime, trainer's riding horse, an OTTB, is having training problems (doesn't like jumping down into water, which is required in the higher eventing levels) and is not staying sound. So what does she decide to do with her? Breed her as well! Because soundness issues can never be genetic.

So this person who has never worked with baby horses has decided to have two for their very first time. AI doesn't take with OTTB so she gets sent down to the Westphalian too. All three horses do get successfully pregnant. Keep in mind this is a small barn that is already wildly overcrowded, with generally unsafe conditions and no proper unused area for babies and moms to live. Fast forward again almost a year and babies are born a couple months apart, trainer goes out of town both times literally as the mares are about to pop. "Warmblood" mare waits until she gets back but OTTB gives birth literally the day she goes out of the country for two weeks with a tween watching her farm. I also happened to be there when she gave birth which was a very cool experience but still ridiculous. "Warmblood" mare is a good mother, but as you may remember is not actually that easy to handle, which can make it also difficult to handle the baby. OTTB is good with people but aggressive towards the baby especially around food. (Just of a side note both came out Palamino) So since, completely unpredictably, they are having trouble working with the "Warmblood"'s baby because of the mom they decide to wean him at THREE MONTHS. Even the industry standard of 4-6 months has come into question lately because of the evidence of how bad it is for horses. OTTB weans at between 4-5 months because of the aggression towards the baby. "Warmblood" gets sent back to the same stallion almost as soon as the foal is weaned, and OTTB is given AI while the foal is still with her because apparently we have decided we are a breeder now and need to have foals every year! Luckily, neither of them take ( and we get to hear about "Wasted money" ) probably partially because the mares aren't in amazing condition, as they have not been getting unlimited food and even often run out of water because the owner and the kids feeding just forget to fill up buckets. 😊 Now Westphalian is not as strict as other warmblood registries, but they are an actual breed and they do have one, which means inspection. Somehow, it winds up actually being hosted at our barn. When I tell you how ridiculously embarrassing it is to have someone come all the way from Germany to this absolute hole of a barn. When the "Warmblood" mare gets inspected they mention her unfortunate hip anatomy, and also ask why the hell the foal was weaned already. Everyone passes though, not the highest grade but still registered and the foals get their brands and everyone gets their DNA tested. While this is happening the American from the registry actually says something to my trainer about how the "Warmblood's" conformation is going to be a problem in future breeding. After they have left trainer asks "Wait were they saying not to breed "warmblood"? But why if her foal was fine?" First yes, yes that is exactly what they were saying, second it is only by pure chance her foal didn't inherit that butt, you can't pick a choose what the foal gets no matter how fancy of sperm you buy. They proceed to say they were a little snobby even though they were way nicer than they needed to be. Also they wouldn't brand the wood in the barn which I thought was hilarious. Trainer decides AFTER the inspection to finally actually get "warmblood"'s papers? So now both mare's are just sitting and foals go out together with one halflinger in a tiny mud pit. "Warmblood's" foal has started showing some behavioral problems. I haven't had trouble, he basically just has a constant grumpy face, but he has bitten and tried kicking other people. This obviously could never have been predicted when you knew his mother had problems and then weaned him incredibly early emotionally stunting him! He's going to be a big fucker too. OTTB's foal is an angel but loose with those back legs lol. There is someone who really wants her who used to ride at this barn and rode her mother, then moved to a better barn and I hope she gets to have her because she will spoil her and give her a good life.

They both have big ole worm bellies too! Because the manure management is non existent in the pastures and they didn't get wormed at all until this week (maybe). I'm attaching pictures of the "warmblood" mare so you can see what I mean about her hind end. I actually like her a lot and wish I could help her. I hope you "enjoyed" this story, it has been painful for me to live through. I just thought it exemplified so many things this blog is all about. Good to see you back and I hope you're doing well!!!

Oh I was not prepared for the pictures. That's... not good. Thank you for being sensible and reporting back from hell on earth.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

⋆ “did you do this just for me?” for Vaxilmore

“did you do this just for me?”

Vax hates doing this. He and the rest of Vox Machina already rely so heavily on Gilmore's generosity, wouldn't have survived half the shit they've encountered without it—the last thing he wants to do is limp, bruised and bedraggled, to Gil's doorstep, a stray cat mewling to get in.

Yet here he is, shoulders slumped up to keep his head protected from the heavy rains over Emon, knocking pathetically on the front door of a darkened Gilmore's Glorious Goods. He's half-hoping the door doesn't open, that he has to slink back down the road, waterlogged and hobbling, so that Gil doesn't have to see him like this, so Gil doesn't have to worry, so that Gil isn't inconvenienced—

The interior of the store flickers to life, and relief floods through Vax's body like whiskey. A moment later, the front door is swinging open, just an inch or two, and Vax pushes inside, leaning heavily on the door. "Gil?"

"Sit."

It's Gil's voice echoing around the main floor of the shop, but Vax can't see him anywhere. He frowns, confused by the order, until a plush gilded purple chair dances up to him, its legs moving in a little jig until it comes to a stop just a foot in front of him. Vax stares, confident that he's hallucinating, but Gil's voice repeats, "I'm serious. Sit down before you pass out."

He's not going to argue. He sits in the chair, which takes off as soon as his ass touches it, cantering back toward the interior of the shop. Vax grips onto the arms for dear life, as if this chair is the most terrifying thing he's encountered today. (It is not.) The chair carries him up the stairs and delivers him into a room containing a small, deep pool of fragrant water that is surrounded by, if he had to guess, every single candle in all of Emon. The chair comes to a stop, and it remains still, as if it never moved at all.

"Shaun?" Vax starts to stand, his muscles screaming at the effort.

"Slowly, sweet bird." His voice is no longer sourceless, as Gilmore appears beside him, his hands coming to steady Vax. "You've seen better days, haven't you?"

Vax lets out a laugh. "That is...an understatement." He looks around the room. "Did I interrupt something, or did you do this just for me?"

Gilmore is carefully unlatching his blood-soaked leathers. "I have eyes and ears everywhere, Vax'ildan. I saw you coming a mile off."

Vax's throat is suddenly thick. "Oh."

"We'll get this blood off of you, and if you're a good boy, you can have a healing draught as well."

Vax's head tips onto Gilmore's shoulder. For the first time all day, he feels safe. "You're too good to me, Shaun."

A whiskery kiss is pressed onto the tip of his ear. "You're good to all of Tal'dorei, sweet bird. You take care of us, I'll take care of you." He tosses Vax's armor and linens into a pile, which Vax imagines will be cleaned through arcane means at a later time, and then guides his now-nude form into the water. It's warm, blissfully warm, and Vax can feel the knots in his muscles begin to loosen. He wants to sink down, down, down, until the water consumes him whole, but Gil's strong hands keep him up, working a lavender shampoo into his hair. His fingers feel so good, and Vax fights the desire to fall asleep right where he sits.

Gil must notice his drooping eyes, because he murmurs, "I won't let you drown, Vax'ildan. Nod off if you need to. I'll get you clean and in bed just fine."

Vax shakes his head to clear it. "No, not yet." He turns, hooks his hand over one of Gilmore's wrists. "Tell me about your day?"

With a smile so tender, so gentle it nearly knocks the breath from Vax's lungs, Gilmore leans in, kisses him once, and says, "Whatever you like, sweet bird." And as he begins to tell tales about his day here in the city, Vax's eyes drift closed once more, and he thanks each of the gods for the strength they gave his feet to carry him here.

[purpleprincessonfyre]

OUAT AU - I Know Places

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Ethane - Ethan Lensherr x Liane Felton

Fantasy AU

Inspired by the song I Know Places (Taylor's Version)

"They got their cages,

they got their boxes,

And guns.

They are the hunters, we are the foxes,

My love."

The woods darkened by the second as Ethan's horse cantered through the thorns and brush towards the tall twisted tower in the distance. His sword at his side, his helmet lowered, he was ready to kill this creature on sight for her wrong doings. Who would curse an innocent princess like that? And why? As soon as the curse had been lifted, the King had offered a heavy bounty for anyone who slayed the monster and brought back her head. Ethan was never one to pass up an opportunity for vengeance.

As he reached the twisted tower he heard no sound from the outside. Perhaps he was walking into a trap? He dismounted his horse, drew his sword and entered through the creaking, splintered door, making his way up the winding staircase as the wind whistled through every crack and crevice in the tower walls. Ethan had been told the creature was a vile and hideous woman with a heart as black as ink and terrifying powers. But that didn't scare him.

As he reached the top steps he heard a slight sound coming from the floor above, it sounded like...crying? The closer he got the louder the sound became and he gripped his sword tighter, ready to find an innocent soul trapped in this wicked tower.

Instead he saw a young woman, curled up in a corner, head between her knees sobbing. Her long purple tresses were being swamped by bright blonde roots, long curving black horns protruded from her head and scars ran down her tearstained cheeks and neck as she sobbed.

The knights presence became known as he entered and Ethan was suddenly looking directly into deep purple eyes. He knew those eyes well...it couldn't be! His mind reached back to a simpler time and instead of seeing this woman he instead saw a young girl with bright blonde hair, short black horns and huge sweeping wings on her back, giggling and smiling....

"Something happens when

Everybody finds out.

See the vultures circling dark clouds."

"Who are you?" The young girl demanded, pointing a long stick at the young boy, her purple eyes filled with determination.

"I'm not a monster, I promise!"

"But you are a human, right?"

"I...well-"

"You're trespassing in the realm of the Fae."

"The Fae- ohhhhh. That's why father said not to step on those circles of mushrooms..."

"You...you entered a fairy circle?"

"Yes?"

The young girl chuckled, trying to look serious but couldn't help herself but laugh.

"Hey!"

"Sorry but that is your own fault. You shouldn't have stepped in the circle."

"Just...can you put the stick down?"

"It's my stick."

"Please?" His green eyes pleaded with her as she frowned, unsure of whether this boy was trustworthy.

"You promise not to hurt the fairies? Or our land?"

"Cross my heart." And he did so.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"So why are you here then?"

"I'm a fairy too."

The boy frowned, looking her up and down, noting her dirty bare feet, her ragged dress and her horns.

"Y'don't look like any fairy I know."

"What do you think we look like?"

"I dunno. Smaller, they wear flower colours, they have wands. And they have wings."

"I have wings too!" The girl retorted, indignant.

"Well, can I see them then?"

"See what?"

"Your wings, silly!"

"That's a bit rude, you can't ask to see my wings."

"Well then I guess you haven't got any..." The boy said, sniffing. The girl grimaced before arching her back very deliberately and out came two large, feathery, purple wings from her back. The boy looked on in awe.

"Wow! They're so pretty! And they match your eyes!"

"Thanks...I'm Liane."

"Ethan, nice to meet you."

"Lights flash and we'll run for the fences,

Let them say what they want

We won't hear it.

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time,

Not this time."

Ethan blinked and there was his childhood fairy friend, Liane, crying on the floor in the dark tower.

"Liane?"

"Ethan....I'm sorry."

"You cursed the Princess?!"

"It was foolish, I know!"

"You're the monster?"

"Thanks.." she spat bitterly, tears still rolling her cheeks.

"But why?"

"Jealousy, selfishness, pride, envy, just kill me already! I know that's why you're here! Yes I cursed the Princess to prick her finger and die! Yes my plan failed miserably! Yes I feel awful! Now just kill me, you idiot!" She screamed, her eyes now glowing purple as she sat there, waiting for her death.

Ethan looked her in the eye, held up his sword, and dropped it at her feet.

"I can't kill you."

"What?"

"I can't do it, Liane."

"Why not!"

"Because I care about you, you stupid fairy! I've always cared about you."

"You have?"

"Yes. You can make rash decisions, you get jealous, you're uncouth, you say things that would make Kings blush but I love all of those things. You matter to me."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart.." he smiled, taking her hand and helping her to her feet, noticing something on her back. Something rigid that used to feel soft and feathery. Something that felt raw. Like it had been sliced away from her body.

"Your back...it's-"

"Don't." She cut in, flinching away from him as he grazed her back with his fingers.

"Where are your wings?"

"Ethan stop it."

"I'm asking, where are they?"

"Please..."

"WHERE ARE YOUR WINGS?!"

"Love's a fragile little flame it could burn out,

It could burn out..."

"Can I touch them?" A slightly older than before Ethan asked, admiring her wings the way he always did.

"Um, as long as you're gentle, then yes." Liane held out her wing to Ethan, letting him stroke it. As his hand touched her feathery wing, it felt like stroking a soft bed, so smooth and so warm to the touch. He smiled.

"Well?"

"They're so soft! And fluffy!"

"Thank you.." she smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks as her continued to stroke her wing like she was an injured bird or a scared horse. It was comforting in a strange way. Like the way her mother used to stroke her hair when she was little.

"Can we go flying now?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please?" Ethan begged, his big green eyes as round as marbles as Liane relented, taking hold of him by the waist firmly, her eyes turning to the skies as they began to ascend, swooping and soaring through the trees and into the clouds as Ethan whooped and giggled, Liane smiling and chuckling as they flew so effortlessly through the sky.

The feeling of flying on Liane's wings was like nothing else mattered, just him and her in the wind and the breeze for as long as they pleased. He felt safe in her arms and knew she would never let him come to harm.

"Just grab my hand don't ever drop it,

My love..."

"It was my price for the curse!" She howled, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. "I wanted to curse the future Queen as payback for what the King and his men did to my land so I went to The Dark Prince for a curse!

"He told me it would cost me dearly and he said he would take from me something precious. Something I can't live without. My wings...I was blinded by greed and anger, I agreed and he promised that when I succeeded he would return me my wings with the knowledge that I would owe him from then on. He took that horrible blade and cut them off, displaying them in his disgusting castle like a trophy! But I failed....and now I can never have them back!" She sobbed, stroking her now raw and rigid back mournfully.

Ethan sighed and tried to console her but rage of his own was festering in his heart as she spoke. Learning that his closest friend had made a deal and had her wings clipped by the most powerful man in the realm for a curse made him more than angry. His heart now ached for the woman he had grown to love, holding her fast as she cried harder and harder.

"You have to go, they'll kill you too for betraying the king."

"I'm not going to leave you here."

"Ethan please-"

"Come with me." His eyes were inviting and warm, his gauntleted hand holding tight to hers. He wanted to take her away from all this, take her far away from the Kings and their knights. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it to the ground as a sign he wouldn't break this promise.

"They'll come for both of us."

"Let them. We'll keep running. You and I can leave this place, my horse will take us to greener pastures, we need nothing but ourselves for company. For the rest of forever you are mine, Liane."

"I...I love you. I've always loved you."

He kissed her, holding her tight as his lips crashed against her darkened, cracked lips, watching as the fire in her eyes calmed and her heart beat started to slow. His hand went to her stained hair and he held her like he was never letting go.

The two mounted the horse as the sun started to set in the west, Liane covered her head with her cloak carefully, holding on tight to Ethan's waist as they looked towards the thicket in the distance.

"Let's leave this awful forest."

"Together."

"For now and for always."

And they rode off into the waning night, from anyone who would want them dead, heading for a life far quieter and far simpler than the ones cut out for them.

"(I) In the dead of night

Your eyes so green....

(Hide) And I know for you

It's always me."

Thanks for reading!

@jackiequick @gcthvile @cherrysft @blueboirick @meiramel @ask-starrk @ask-missparker @askstevella @finlayholmes @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz

[upkeeptolters]

JUST A HACK?

POV Frederic Hanson

Lately I have been spending a lot of time with Froya (Einarsdottir) who is the trainer of one of the best friends of the horse I am currently training. I train Flóki while she is training Gyllír. The stallions are literally best friends, and does everything together in the stallion herd. Gyllír (the one to the right) protected Flóki when he first joined the herd, and him being one of the bulkiest (yet shortest) stallions in the pasture helped him take care of Flóki.

Spending time with Froya and Gyllír made me realize that while she is a few years younger than me, she is as much as an adult as me, and I really enjoy her company. How do I tell her that I like her more than a friend though? Cantering then galopping around the fields around the grounds today made me realize that. That I liked her, that I was probably in love with her too.

I was a little nervous, when we slowed the horses down to tölt, so I took the job as lead rider, though she just laughed and and asked me to "Slow down, you dummy!".

"Yeah?" I replied, looking back at her, while expertly controlling Flóki under me.

"Seriously, just bc your horse is faster than mine, doesn't mean you can't wait a little!" she laughed back, and stuck out her tongue at me.

"For the record Flóki is not faster, he is just older and more sure on his feet and in his tölt."

"Still that doesn't excuse his clumsiness," she grumbled, and slowed down into walk after Gyllír had become kind of out of breath.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You only began tölting on Gyllír for a month now, right?" he slowed his horse down into walk too, and even stopped him completely, so Froya and her steed could catch up with them. He patted her on the shoulder, and added, "And not every horse can be like Hrafn, who was clearly born to tölt."

She looked thoughtful for a long while, but as they arrived back to Upkeep's facilities she nodded with a kind of finality that I hadn't seen in her before, "You are right. It's just... before I came here it had been Hrafn and me for such a long time and..." she halted.

"... and you are struggling to not compare every other horse to him," I finished her sentence with the kind of ease that you can only master, when you know someone very well. And I do know Froya pretty well by now.

She just nodded. I pat her on the shoulder again.

"You did it once, you can do it again," I said, trying to cheer her up.

She gave me a watery smile in return, but nodded. I just hope she will trust herself more in the future, because I am sure she can take on any horse. Even one as clumsy in tölt as Gyllír.

[softquietsteadylove]

We need more dressage AU because it’s a great story! 😁

What if Thena comes to the stall and hears Gil angrily discussing with another rider how it’s not okay what kind of hurtful and abusive methods he uses on his horse? And how he can’t let him continue to train with his horse since it got nasty injuries? 😳

"I'm telling you to take today off, he needs to rest!"

"I don't pay you to give me advice, I pay you to groom my damn horse!"

"You don't pay me at all!"

Thena picked up her pace from a brisk walk to a canter. She didn't like the sound of whatever was happening in the stables, and however it involved Gil.

"I pay the club fee, which pays your salary, stable boy!" the rider in question pointed out in a very haughty and yet also incorrect way. "So as far as I'm concerned, either you fit him with new shoes, or I'll find someone who will!"

"He wouldn't need new horseshoes if you hadn't have driven him into the ground!" Gilgamesh argued, not one to be intimidated by some rich boy. "You're not feeding him properly, you're letting him knock into hurdles that are too high, spraining his joints, it's gonna get him hurt!"

"It's a horse!" he spat back in Gil's face. "It's supposed to jump hurdles, that's the whole point of this place!"

"What is happening in here?!"

"Ah," the rider turned to her with an unfortunately familiar smile, "Thena, my lovely."

"Eros," she scowled, walking over to Gil's side, "what are you harassing Gil over?"

Reminded of the problem at hand, but also wanting to keep up his more charming charade, Eros shook his head. "Nothing to fret over, my love. The stable hand seems to be questioning if he should fit Pip with some new horseshoes. I insisted, but-"

"Eros, Gil is right," Thena told him in no uncertain circumstance. She put her hands on her hips, "Pip has been training nonstop and you're bound to run him ragged at this rate."

Eros kept an even expression on, but the faint twitch in his eye betrayed him. "Pip is a trained animal, my sweet. I'm sure he can handle standard training."

"It's past standard," Thena argued in the horse Pip's defense (despite the way he, like his rider, liked to invade Olympia's personal space). She shook her head, "Pip hasn't had a single afternoon off this week, and he's eating half the calcium Olympia is. You can't go on at this rate."

"I-"

"He," Thena corrected, holding her palm up to stop Eros before he could get even more on her nerves. "He can't go on at this rate."

"Thena," Eros tutted, "I know Pip is not a champion to Olympia's degree, but that is the purpose of pushing him."

"There is such a thing as pushing too hard."

"That's what I'm saying," Gil huffed, also crossing his arms.

Eros gave Gil a much - much - more derisive look. "Listen, mate, it's one thing for Thena and I to discuss our horse care. It's your job to carry out what we want done, isn't it?"

"Actually," Thena glared, even taking a step forward. "Gil is the expert, far exceeding our knowledge. If he had advice about your horse, you should be listening."

"Thena-"

"We're lucky to have a caretaker who actually cares about our horses' health!" Thena moved from speaking firmly to raising her voice, taking another step into Eros' space. "We know about what our horses can do, but he knows about what they shouldn't! He's the one who mixes their food and sources the ingredients and grooms them and cares for their hooves! We wouldn't place in anything if not for him!"

Eros blinked. Thena was leaning forward but far from face to face with him, given their difference in height. He did step back, though, and straightened his riding jacket. "I didn't realise our stable hand had such a devoted ally."

Thena narrowed her eyes at him. She refused to rise to his hackles; she refused to be an 'Ikaris' about this. "His name is Gilgamesh. And officially, his title is stable manager!"

"I see," Eros conceded, and yet still sounded like he was saying something condescending. He straightened his cuffs with their shimmering gold button. "I have no desire to be on your bad side, mi amore. So I will be off. Please, do as you see fit Mister...Gilgamesh."

Thena and Gil both watched as Eros strode out of the stables as if he had won something in their petty little argument (over his horse no less!). She huffed, "such a prick."

Gil snorted in the middle of trying not to laugh too loudly. He nudged her arm with his elbow, "I'm not allowed to say it...but I can agree when you say it."

"Agree all you like," Thena murmured, still glaring in the direction of the exit until Eros was assuredly out of sight. She huffed and uncrossed her arms. "He's always that insufferable too."

"I feel bad for Pip," Gil rubbed the back of his neck as he started moving towards the stall where said horse had overheard everything (and not attempted to come to his rider's defense once).

"I don't," Thena deadpanned, and Gil did laugh outright this time. She smiled, "it's not his fault, it's Eros' influence on him."

Pip was a brown furred and somewhat mangy looking horse, despite his rider's immaculate coif. He turned, immediately flipping his tail and whinnying.

"Olympia isn't with me, you menace," Thena immediately shot down the horse's excitement to see her horse with her.

Pip looked forward again, as dejected as a horse could look. He huffed.

Thena rolled her eyes. Both Eros and Pip loved sidling up into hers and Olympia's personal space to try out their charms, limited as they were. "Honestly, get those aged shoes off of him, leave them off. If Eros complains that he's not practice ready I'll handle him personally."

Gil chuckled, retrieving the necessary tools to pry up the horseshoes that were a little overdue to come off. "I would love to see that."

"I think everyone would, honestly."

[auburnflight]

Aki ask!

What was her first experience flying on a Pegasus like? :3

Like anything else, you start small. Obviously, you master riding a horse on the ground before you start conquering being in the air--get so comfortable with it that everything is practically second nature, and build trust with the animal, before you take away a major support pillar that's been with you pretty much every moment in your life except this one.

I don't know if you've ever ridden a horse (or a camel, or another beast of burden) before, but you can, in a way, feel the earth through the animal as it moves. Your tactile senses harmonize with how its bones, muscles, ligaments and all are supporting and keeping you both moving. It's an intimate connection in a physical and spiritual sense.

Going into the air... It's quite the transition. You're sitting on a horse's back, as you've done so many times before, but everything else is different. The pegasus is the only line of defense between you and gravity (theoretically the same as if you were riding on a pegasus over the ground, but the drop is a lot farther). Seeing its broad wings behind you is reassuring at first, though you realize that if you fell, they wouldn't be great for catching you, seeing as they're necessary to keep the both of you in flight.

Once you're past the initial burst of muscle and energy that taking flight demands, and the drop of your stomach when gravity is suddenly no longer holding it in place, it's a bit easier. Pegasus are quite good at keeping themselves upright in the air, and if it's your first time flying, you're not going to be doing any wild maneuvers. You get used to the differences in locomotion between a canter and propelled flight: the rush of the wind, the rigidity of the downstroke versus the suspension of the upstroke, the loss of awareness of the pegasus's legs, usurped by the strength of its wings.

And just as your body is getting used to this new dimension, it's over. (It's your first flight, after all--it won't be a marathon!) Ideally the impact of the ground on the pegasus's hooves will be gentle, but considering its huge mass coming back into solid contact with the earth, it's a shock nonetheless. The exhilaration that you may or may not have realized you were feeling evaporates--at least for the moment.

But now that you've experienced it, that awareness still hibernates in a corner of your mind. Its pull is persistent. And eventually you realize that, in spite of the dangers and all the contradictions to the human body's terrestrial nature, you can't wait for the next time you fly.

[blackroseraven]

Horses don't understand physics.

They especially don't understand physics when they're big mad at you.

So while out for a ride, after Quattro got mad at me, combined with a lot of Q energetically egging him on, he started bucking and threatening to crowhop, but unfortunately at the time we were going up a hill.

I ended up having to do an emergency dismount because otherwise we were both going to go flipping down the hill to land in the marsh and that would have just been bad news bears all around.

Q really needs a Dumb Baby Cage because like. Everyone was feeling really good today. So Q would randomly stay behind to eat grass, then come cantering or full-out galloping up, wanting to race and play and be that asshole friend everyone has.

And just like. Quattro would be so frustrated that he couldn't race around that he'd just get mad and start hopping or bucking or snorting or stomping, in a combination of "I can't right now" and "let me free!"

We rode all around the property, though. Or around like 75% of it, and most of it was really nice. Even though there was definitely a period in the middle after I'd had to do my emergency dismount where Quattro was still really frustrated and freaking out and wouldn't let me back on, instead bucking, kicking, just being a jerkass for like ten minutes of me trying to climb on.

I'm glad I didn't just totally lose my cool or give up like I wanted to. We moved to my "mounting block" - a broken hose case - and when that also failed, I took him to the front yard and made him canter a few times, then got on him from my other "mounting block," a stone lawn pillar.

But the second half wasn't terrible. Just the same Dumb Baby Problems from Q. I either need to build an arena purely so I can lock him in it or get a temp paddock set up and stick him inside.

And of course like. When I was trying to get off him, he wouldn't let me. Kept squealing and kicking out and huffing. Such a buttass.

OH.

He did somehow. Get his tail stuck in his own butt.

Don't ask me how. It probably also contributed to him being upset.

Horses are weird.