#AND I GET THE REFERENCES IN MODERN RIDER NOW!!!

[pleuvoire]

i promise you the experience of being a kamen rider fan becomes so much more enriched and deep once you start getting into the peepaw riders. cannot recommend it enough. you don't have to watch everything just familiarize yourself. get to know them

[gothteddiesdotcom]

I know this is a porn blog and all but it's so hard to like. explain to people what Dave Mirra meant to the BMX community

[theprissythumbelina]

So you want to write about horses.

Part 2 now out!

Or you're writing and horses show up. Or its a pre-industrial fantasy and your characters have to get somewhere. Or you have a faint idea of your MC's love interest showing up on a white stallion.

Whatever the cause, you're writing, and a horse appears. But you know nothing about horses. I can help.

This is a horse. Horses come in many sizes.

^ Big Jake, a Belgian Draft horse, and a roughly 5 foot woman for scale.

1 hand = 4 inches = 10.16 cm

Once a horse is smaller than about 14.2hh, it is generally considered a pony. In the modern day, ponies are not considered suitable for adult riders due to weight and height issues. Some pony breeds, such as Welsh, Fjords, ect. are known for being sturdy, and can more easily carry adult sized humans. Miniature horses should never be ridden by adults.

^The only suitable 'riding' a miniature horse should do

The above graphic mentions that horses are measured from the top of the withers, not the top of the head. But, what are withers?

The withers are where the horse's shoulders meet the spine, and the neck becomes the back. Withers are incredibly important for saddle placement, as a badly placed saddle in this area can prevent a horse from moving its legs properly, cause a large amount of pain, and even damage a horse's spine. Speaking of spines, this is a horse skeleton, with the withers pointed out.

Horses have four legs. Horses cannot have any fewer than four legs. They are obligate quadrupeds. This is, in part, due to their weight, as well as the construction of their legs and hooves. This is to say, that while cats, dogs, and other animals can be amputees, a horse, short of some incredible magic solution, cannot. Even a broken leg bone will cause a huge amount of problems, as all of the weight that leg would usually hold must be shifted to the other feet, and this causes a condition called laminitis, where the tissue that holds together the hoof and the toe bone becomes inflamed, and begins to separate. Once this happens, the hoof tissue dies from lack of blood, and the bone begins to rotate. This is extremely painful for the horse, and so often the best solution for a horse with a broken leg is to be spared that pain. Famous American racehorse Barbaro experienced a complex broken bone, which began to heal fine, but complications from laminitis in two of his other legs caused him to be put down. This is why media will almost always show a horse with a broken or injured leg being 'taken care of'.

^Barbaro, in his prime. Even the best veterinary medicine couldn't save him.

Now, racehorses like Barbaro are moving at the fastest speed and the fastest gait of the horse, the gallop. The patterns that horses move their feet are referred to as gaits, with most horses having four, with some breeds having five or more.

The first gait and the slowest is the walk. In the walk, all four feet move independently, which leads it to be called a four-beat gait, as the footfalls make a sort of drumbeat on the ground.

The next gait is the trot, a two beat gait with diagonal pairs of legs moving together.

^Diagonal pairs marked in red and blue

The trot is a very bouncy experience for the rider, and can be uncomfortable. Some riders will rise and fall with a pair of diagonal legs, called a posting trot, some will stand in their stirrups, called a two-point or jump position, and some will sit the trot, which requires a lot of core strength (seriously, if you want a strong core, screw the gym)

The third gait is the canter, a three-beat gait with a single diagonal pair. This gait is ridden sitting, and feels a lot like going over waves on a jetski. There is a rise, a scoop, and a fall feeling. The canter is also called a lope in Western riding, they are the same gait.

^diagonal pair marked in red

A gallop is sometimes considered a variation on canter, as it is similar save for the legs actually moving in a four-beat pattern. As you can see with the image of Barbaro, all four of his feet are moving in different patterns, at different times, even though the gallop is really a four beat version of the canter. Riders in the gallop rise off the horse's back into a raised position, which allows the horse to use the full length of its spine and musculature to get as much reach and speed as possible. It feels like riding on top of a train barreling down the tracks, at least until your horse takes an unexpected turn and the ground is suddenly the only thing you're riding.

^ I've been there. The trick is to push away and hit the ground rolling, it hurts less that way. And don't land on your head.

That's all for this post. I'll have more when I feel like it, and send me questions if you want to know more about specific things or need a writing question answered

Reblogs welcome and encouraged

@jacqueswriteblrlibrary for wider reach

[fanaticsnail]

Better than to break tradition

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,700+

Beautiful Doflamingo cowboy art by @skullfacedlady. Absolutely gorgeous, as usual.

Synopsis: Rival ranches, the Donquixote family and your own, find neutral ground after a successful rodeo tournament. Coming to your aid, at the crowning of a cap on your head, you and Doflamingo know far better than to break tradition.

Themes: Doflamingo x f!reader, gendered terms used, cowboy au, bronc rider Doflamingo, rodeo clown Rosinante mentioned, regular sized Doflamingo in a semi-modern au, smut, 18+, MDNI, NSFW, P in V sex, unprotected, semi-public, creampie, plot, feelings, enemies to lovers.

Notes: Fic dedicated to @skullfacedlady, @queenmimi2817, and @feral-artistry for their ideas and thoughts about this cowboy on his horse. I am terrified of horses, but I did my research to get things as right as I could. Please forgive for any inaccuracies, I had a lot of fun writing this and this au is eating at me. First Rosinante drabbles, now this.

Sitting beside your father and his allied cattlemen, the amount of murmuring was so foggy your mind could barely pick up on any meaningful sentence uttered between them. Especially when your gaze was too focussed on avoiding the rubied lenses of the bronc rider readying his mount in the wood and iron cage atop a wild bronc.

Donquixote Doflamingo, ‘the Joker' of the arena, would always seek you out in the crowd when he entertained. All he ever did was show you how much he could reign in and control the beast beneath him with a firm grip and a mischievous grin. No matter how truly untamable the beast would be, bucking wildly to shake him off, they would find all their thrashing was met with absolute control and composure from the blonde man in the saddle.

The blonde-haired man would sit atop him, pelvis to the sky, chin tucked into his chest, and holding on for dear life while taming that beast for the money and reputation it garnered him. He was a rodeo king, and that air of cockiness would follow him everywhere.

While he often received praise falling from his entourage’s lips, all he ever wanted was that soft call of your own. Yet, there you sat, upturning your chin to face away from him while ignoring comments about him from your father’s troup.

The rivalry between you ran deep. Truth be told, neither of you truly knew where the little spat started. It could've been initiated when Doflamingo approached you with that cocky swagger in a bar, likely unknowing who you were and who your father was, offering to buy you a drink in return for a dance and your time while only being met with rejection. It also could've been when your father purchased a large quantity of cattle from the auction house that Doflamingo wanted to keep for himself at his family's ranch.

It could've been the snarky comment from his lips referring to you as a ‘buckle bunny', only good for chasing cowboys and taking cock. That comment resulted in an all out brawl between your family’s ranch workers, and the Donquixote troop. You held your own quite well, impressing a few of the crew with your battle-ready mentality, but it did lose you the place in line to be crowned ‘rodeo queen' - another slight against you made by the hands of Donquixote Doflamingo.

Either way, you refused to give the blonde the time of day. He was a bronc rider, and you were your father’s daughter.

Being from rival homesteads would keep you apart regardless. Your father would never permit you to speak to the likes of him, especially while your arm was laced within his in the stands sat beside his allies. Not after the amount of comments thrown his way about the blonde’s tendencies to take lovers and leave them immediately thereafter. Your father was protective, defensive, and ready to go to war for you - just as you would for him in a heartbeat.

If that war was due to the flashy smile of Donquixote Doflamingo thrown at you, he'd jump down into the stands and wage it there and then. It didn't help that the amount of comments from his allies suggesting a match be made between you and Doflamingo to solidify a new alliance was thrown in the ring more often than not.

At the sound of a gun aimed at the sky, the gates opened for another show flawlessly executed by ‘The Joker' in the ring. The dark horse bucked, kicked, spun in hasty circles while Doflamingo demonstrated his skill by holding on with a single hand while the other aimed at the sky clasping his white stitched, pink cat. Many a person would've been thrown extremely quickly from a stallion such as this, but Doflamingo’s skill and flare was simply too much for the beast.

The longer the display progressed, the more cheers, jeers, and gasps were heard from the ring surrounding the arena. You rolled your eyes, squeezing your arm laced within your father’s while you pouted to depict your level of impression.

At the sound of a loud gasp and your father tensing up to straighten his posture, you immediately turned your attention to the ring. Doflamingo was cast from the horse, and the beast was rearing to charge him where he stood. With quickened haste, Doflamingo’s entourage snapped immediately into action: his coach pulling him aside, and his younger brother, the rodeo clown commonly referred to as 'the heart of Doflamingo’ caused a large, clumsy, flailing distraction to usher the beast over towards him rather than his brother.

With 'the heart' jumping and distracting the horse’s charge, Doflamingo scurried out of the arena and climbed up on the side.

“He’s going to jump back on, isn’t he?” shocked voices called from the side. You unlaced your arm from your father, staring into the arena and rising to your feet. As Rosinante sprinted faster and faster while being chased by the stallion, Doflamingo made contact with his eyes on yours. He smirked up at you, shooting you a wink and placed his pink hat back atop his head while waiting for his brother to pass him.

As soon as Rosinante made it to the stand with the bronc behind him, Doflamingo immediately jumped back onto the horse with a large uproar from the stadium. You rolled your eyes at him, sitting back down beside your father, but now continuing to watch him with little interest cloaked behind your usual stoic demeanor.

“Are you sweet on him now, darlin’?” your father spoke from beside you, prompting you to immediately snap your head over towards him and shoot him an accusatory glare.

“Are you joking, Dad?” you spit in disgust, glancing back down to the display of Doflamingo now sitting atop a tamed beast and urging the beast to trot along the perimeter of the stand, “I would rather chew sand than start courting with him.” As the bronc was calmed and steady under his hands and straddled beneath his hips. You couldn’t help the wandering of your mind at the motion of his hips against the great horse, but you refused to allow the blush to creep higher the longer your eyes lingered on the motions.

After the rodeo event was concluded and Doflamingo was successful in another show, several members of the district ranches approached you for a drink or a dance in the hall. While your father was off elsewhere discussing cattle and stallion purchase, you were a hot commodity. You enjoyed some attention from time to time, but this moment alone with a string of unwanted suitors was grossly hard to manage. None of them seemed to take ‘no’ for an answer, all competing for a moment of your time and vying for an opening to dive between your legs in a bid to grant them an audience with your father.

“This seat taken, sweetheart?” a particularly handsy gentleman asked. His talon-like grip trailed over your shoulders, grazing your skin and causing a physical shudder to rise on pebbled gooseflesh on your skin. You attempted to cast off the suitor, who began groping you and prodding you in a bid to get a rise from your temper or a giggle, you felt a soft warmth drape itself silently over your head.

No words were spoken as you witnessed the man begin to grumble and groan the silent protection placed upon your head. As you gazed upwards at the color, your own eyes rolled at the unwritten rule of the rodeo. Looking up at the white and pale pink hat with a stitched white brim, you scoffed and rode your thumb and four fingers to the tip of the broad suede. You would never dream of removing it, mainly to keep unwanted attention at ease, but also for the fact that the person who placed it on your head was a person you had begrudgingly come to admire this night from afar.

You would never dream of offending the knight found in the rescue of Donquixote Doflamingo. Not immediately after such a successful endeavour with the bronc, anyway.

“So many suitors, sweetheart,” he gently whispered in a gruff purr into your ear, taking a seat beside you at the bar and shooing the already dissipating crowd, “You forced my hand, really.” Turning towards the man beside you, you rolled your eyes before narrowing them towards the taller man beside you.

“Oh, and how did I force your hand?” you scoffed, turning in your barstool towards the tall blonde at your side, “Unless this is you staking your claim on a prize, rider, I see no reason for your cap crowning my head.” Doflamingo leaned forward, his eyes half-lidded beneath his pink showman's glasses. The flicker of danger was momentarily flashing in the bat of his blonde lashes, stealing the breath from your chest as he leaned in further.

“You do make such a pretty prize,” he growled lowly, his lips almost reaching your own in a sultry brush, “And now all I'm picturing is a part of this forsaken building to claim you in properly.” Before you had time to react, his arm was around your waist and hooking beneath your knees.

“You're joking, right?” You scoff at him with a humorless laugh, drawing your hand up to place it on the top of the suede brim, “One: you hate me and I hate you,” you speak firmly, beginning to lift the object from your head, “And, two: you and I both know that this is just superstitious-.”

“-You’ll keep my hat on your head if you know what's good for you, princess,” Doflamingo uttered firmly, peering at you over the brim of his glasses, “You and I know far better than to break tradition. Way I see it, you've got three choices as to what happens next.” He reached up and firmly pressed the hat back down atop your head, securing it in place while gazing dangerously into your eyes.

“We can sneak off to the bathroom where anyone can walk in to hear you screaming my name,” he chuckled, moving his hands from the hat to fall atop your shoulders, “We can fuck right here in front of your daddy and all his business partners in the next room,” Doflamingo whispered against your skin, with his lips almost close enough to taste, “Or we can go to the stables near the bronco you watched me tame earlier, showing the poor stallion how you train your cowboy to behave. Your choice, princess. Either way you choose, you're gonna be riding me somewhere tonight.”

In any other circumstances, you would have fought more against this chain of events. Firstly: your father should've taken you with him in the back rooms to conduct meetings with his allies and business partners, not leave you unattended with the unruly cowboys. Secondly: the sway and buck of Doflamingo’s hips on that horse had your mind wandering somewhere in the gutters each time he gazed at you while on the ride. Thirdly: who were you to break with tradition at a time like this?

Taking one quick swig to drain your drink, you turned your palm up and clapped him on the cheek with a single word falling from your lips.

“Stables.”

“Atta girl,” he shuddered in delight, lacing your arm within his and escorting you away from the bar like the perfect gentleman. He enjoyed gazing at those eyeing him off in envy, truly knowing how great the prize he had claimed truly was. Doflamingo had a lot of casual hook ups at events like this, but this was the first time he had ever claimed a partner with his hat on their head.

As his eyes met with that pink brim, he felt his heart anxiously patter in his chest, relishing on what he was to expect from the encounter to come. Sure, he had a small hang up on your history together, but there was never any hatred from him on his part. He loved to tease, and knowing he could get a rise and see some fire from a respected cattleman’s daughter brought him some joy in his daily life.

Slowly drawing you down the steps towards the stables was an easy task. The air grew thick and tense as your own expectations rose within you at what was to come. Your mind wandered back to the sway and rock of his hips above the bucking bronco, arousal pooling at the complete control as his hips gyrated and moved with every harsh kick.

At the doors to the stables, the Donquixote gentleman opened the door for you and gestured for you to go before him. You rolled your eyes and stepped inside the doors and allowed your gaze to adjust to the darkness lurking within. The scent of horse and hay lingered on in the stables, the barn empty aside from the horses resting after the matches in the arena.

The taller gentleman strolled in behind you, latching the door closed and turning to gaze at each of the empty stalls. As he parted his lips to ask you for your choice of room, he found your lips immediately clashing against his own in a fit of passion. His breath caught in surprise, immediately reciprocating the aggression you placed upon him with every kiss. Tongues and teeth bruised and consumed one another’s kiss as all clothes aside from Doflamingo’s hat upon your head shed your persons.

Pushing him into an empty stalls by using your body alone was an easy feat, considering his eagerness to relinquish control to you. He had no chance to utter a word as you laid him on his back and crawled through the hay to straddle his hips. Already feeling the slick arousal pool through your walls and gather at your entrance, you braced one hand on his stomach and another girt his girth to align with your cunt.

“Woah-? What-? Wait-!” died on his lips as you took him inside you with a single thrust downwards. Sitting comfortably while your walls contracted and adjusted to his size, you clamped your eyes shut while your belly expanded to comfortably sheath him within you.

“A little hasty, aren't you?” he groaned, his hands moving to your hips to hold you steady. “That bent on getting this over with, rider?” You opened your eyes and narrowed them down at him at the taunt of the earlier name you called him.

“Oh, please,” you leaned down with sarcasm dripping from your voice, still holding his cock deep within your core, “Don't act like you're not waiting for this little superstition to be complete so you can go partner up with someone else-.”

“-Don't,” he uttered sharply, moving his hand to caress your cheek and draw you in closer. He moved his unoccupied hand up to remove his glasses to gaze into your eyes without the pink filter. Ruby eyes met yours, sensitive to the light and shrouded beneath blonde eyelashes. “Don't you dare. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you riding me, cowgirl.”

“Cowgirl, now?” Your voice depicted your feigned shock as you tested a soft roll of your hips while your faces were inches apart. “What ever happened to ‘rider’, ‘princess’, or ‘buckle bunny’, huh? And what do you mean by that, Joker?” Doflamingo laughed, thrusting up to test your hold over his crotch, allowing another moan rose as he lost himself to the feeling.

“I don't mean half the shit I say,” he whispered alongside the echo of your name to follow, “And what I do say is to get a reaction from you, princess. Now take your damn time, I'm enjoying this.” He rocked you on his lap, enjoying the way he could easily maneuver your motions over his cock while your face was so close to his own.

You bore down on his lap, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside your cunt and warming it with your body. He hitched his breath as you tensed around him with a flutter of your walls. He allowed his mind to go blank as he revealed in the heat of your pussy claiming his raw cock inside of you.

“A-And, I mean from the first time I saw you, I wanted you,” he confessed, tilting his head up and gazing at you through half-hooded lashes. “Prissy attitude, hard working girl, easy to agitate and tease, and so fucking gorgeous. Now show me how you ride, cowgirl.”

Under the cover of darkness, the scent of hay surrounding your bare bodies, you sat comfortably to the hilt on Doflamingo’s cock. Straddling his hips, you demonstrated the skill of riding by grinding your cunt over his steely shaft. Rolling your hips to his rough bucking had your twin peaks steadily rising, the man beneath you not shying away from being verbal with his pleasure. As he groaned out, you simply panted as you bucked against his pelvis, hips clapping noisily with every, rough, down thrust.

Doflamingo refuted your silence, using everything in his power to expel explicit and pornographic moans from your lips. His hands flew to every piece of your flesh he could find purchase on. Playing with your clit, pinching your breasts, grabbing fistfuls of your ass to impale you on his cock, Doflamingo grew frustrated at your stubbornness to not cry out for him.

“C'mon, cowgirl. Wanna hear you cry for me,” he whimpered, bucking up each time you ground yourself down. “Don’t make me flip you- oh fuck,” he threw his head back as he felt your walls suck him in with every thrust down, “Just like that, baby. Good girl. J-Just need you to-,” he moved his thumb towards your pearl at the top of your pussy and focussed on slowly pressing it with coaxing pressure as you rode him once more. You let out a soft gasp at first, sucking in your breath through your teeth, before a needy mewl spilt from your lips that Doflamingo rewarded with harder contact to the top of your clit.

The Donquixote cowboy enjoyed every sound he coaxed from you from that point. Hearing your voice only heightened his desire to watch your body bounce atop him like the rider you had always been. Doflamingo was the wild stallion you controlled, his moans fleeing his lips like mewling and braying of the beasts he rode.

“That's it. Ride my cock all loud like that,” he encouraged, bucking wildly up into you. Planting his feet in the hay, the wet squelching of hips clapping together upped in frequency and rapidity, “Fuck, you're more wild than anything I've tamed. Fucking use me, girl.” Your abdomen tightened, the pinnacle of your rapid climax approaching like a rapid cantor to the finish line. With one extremely needy whine, Doflamingo moved his hands to grope your ass, planting you against him while he lost himself further in the feeling.

“F-Fuck-! I'm c-cumming. Y-You better be cumming with me, baby, ah-...” he whined up into you, feeling you match his pace and ride him through it to harmonize with your own body meeting your high, “Atta girl. Keep going. K-Keep taking me. Fuck yes, take it.”

Your hands groped at his shoulders, anchoring your body to his as you felt the floodgates shatter of your high. White flashed behind your vision as you screamed out his name, pleasure blooming in your chest with the ignition of lightning in your eyes. You released his left shoulder beneath your hand to hold his hat atop your head: ensuring it was planted firmly on your head while you cried out for his name.

Pussy gushing over his shaft in rhythmic contractions, you milked his cock of his own messy release as he painted your walls further in the viscous splashback of his cum. Pearlescent spurts fled from his body into yours at the roar of your name, branding your souls together as he flooded you with his seed. Both heaving and panting, you slumped onto his chest and shrouded both of your faces beneath the broad brim of his hat. He chuckled up into you, gently slapping your ass while kissing your cheek. His smile continued to hold as he gazed possessively up into you.

“You rode this cowboy well, sweetheart,” he praised you, bobbing his head up to flick at his cap on your head, “And you're gonna do it again, aren't you? You're still wearing my hat, means you're mine… right?” Slowly rising to gaze down at him, you notice the uncertainty behind his eyes. He wanted you to want it, yearned for you to want him again in any capacity. He needed you to need him again. Who were you to be to refuse him?

“It's still on my head, isn't it?” you quirk back at him, gently leaning down and brushing your nose with his, “Means I'm yours until I take it off.” He chuckled as he scrunched up his nose playfully at you.

“I'm gonna glue that fuckin' thing to your hair, princess,” he chuckled in jest, flicking the cap crowning you, “You take me so well, I don't know how I could ever want anything else.” His hand moved to cup your cheek, moving to press the tip of his nose against yours in a soft brush innocently of his flesh against yours.

The sounds of braying, snorting and whinnying beside you caused the two of you to resolve into a fit of giggles, laughing like the youth in the arena up to mischief in an empty stand. He rolled you gently off him, ensuring the hat remained on your head while making the hay comfortable to hold you atop of. He began whispering sweet nothings, grazing your skin in featherlight kisses where you left a gap open in conversation. Doflamingo was obsessed with you from the first time he saw you, and now that he had his hat crowning your head, that cowboy would never let you go

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[k4marina]

— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist || next part

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now. 

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today. 

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas. 

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face. 

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence. 

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out. 

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.” 

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck. 

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?” 

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.” 

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.” 

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle. 

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys. 

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.  

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned. 

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.” 

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.” 

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates. 

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.” 

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.” 

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down. 

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down. 

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?” 

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled. 

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field. 

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.” 

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me. 

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?” 

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.” 

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet. 

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs. 

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience. 

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm. 

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.” 

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax. 

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular. 

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons. 

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King. 

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched. 

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.” 

“What? 

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me. 

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded. 

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass. 

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks. 

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me. 

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him. 

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.” 

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon. 

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me. 

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off. 

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice. 

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right? 

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes. 

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky. 

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” 

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz. 

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.” 

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears. 

“Your dragon,” 

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings. 

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I. 

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end. 

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible. 

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely. 

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle. 

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.” 

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly. 

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.” 

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub. 

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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[batsplat]

there is that adorable pic of a 13 year old pecco and marc, hugging him by the shoulders. pecco hadn’t become a rossi protege yet, marc recently won his title in 125, they are both so so young. like, of course pecco is going to think a senior (albeit as famous as marc was at the time) is cool and worthy of “celebrity” picture! of course marc is going to take photos with kids that ask him to!

and then they meet at the rossi ranch years later, pecco after an abysmal rookie moto3 season, but part of vr46 academy, marc as a multiple world champion in different categories. like, i’m sure they’ve crossed paths in the paddock, but it looks like the ranch was their first outside of work get-together?

i do wonder at what point did pecco stop seeing marc as this admirable motogp giant? they are co-workers/competitors now, supposedly equals. does the childish wonderment and idealization ever go away, when you are put head-to-head? yes, pecco has said that he doesn’t consider himself on marc’s level, but it does really answer the question, when marc achieves something awesome, like a fucking pole on a honda, does it fill pecco only with the sense of falling short, jealousy, frustration, or is there that tiny 13 year old pecco somewhere inside going “wow, this guy is awesome”

anon... first of all this ask is right up my street. second of all, yeah no the thirteen year old never entirely went away

to some extent obviously all riders kinda do this when they end up competing with the guys they grew up admiring. (or well in modern motogp, that's how it worked out - the competitive windows do have to be big enough, yeah? I'm not sure about the nineties premier class riders, but starting from valentino who had the biaggi poster, was a capirossi fan, an norick fan... but then also didn't get to compete directly with doohan for instance and was instead just mentored by him. valentino sticking around for so long basically Breaks this.) like I was talking in this ask about the dani/marc relationship and how when we talk about dani being marc's 'reference', it does mean something slightly different than the valentino hero idealisation. basically, it's the question of whether you think you're gonna fight that guy one day, if all goes well... because if you're little pecco, right, you're looking up to marc and want to be him, but you also want to beat him (if little pecco is feeling very brave). so marc fills the role of 'reference', the bloke who is basically always a few steps ahead of pecco - exaggerated by how precocious marc was. the role of 'hero' is of course again filled by valentino, though in this case pecco didn't actually have to meaningfully compete against his idol. the separation is a bit cleaner

and look, I doubt this ever really went as far as marc's admiration for dani. but yeah as you say: at the end of the day it's this cool superstar who is tearing up the lower categories and then is tearing up the premier class... like that's this prodigy... and then you get to be part of your actual hero's academy AND you're there when the prodigy gets invited to your hero's home!! not only is marc cool, not only is he winning everything, but also valentino clearly thinks he's fantastic... you kinda want valentino to think you are fantastic in the same way he talks about marc and looks at him... and pecco is like. seventeen at this point. great age. super impressionable. he's having a marginally better season than his absolute flop moto3 campaign but it's still!! rough! you know, so far away from this world that valentino and marc inhabit. obviously young athletes dream, obviously they have to be a bit delusional, obviously they have to believe they'll make it, but those are the kinds of harrowing years that really dent your actual belief. like god, the world of valentino and marc must have felt kinda unattainable back then...

anyway, obviously a year later marc became public enemy number one. personally, if I had to guess, I don't really think valentino has ever spoken much to his proteges about the details of the marc feud. it's the kind of thing where you maybe occasionally badmouth a guy you all hate when the kids are in the room, some dismissive comment or some slightly ugly sideswipe... but valentino did probably prefer to keep his mentees out of the whole thing and isn't giving them particularly detailed hot takes on sepang 2015. I mean, look at what luca said last year

hey, he could be lying, but is he really the type? "I'm sure he's still angry" - even that doesn't sound like he knows anything particularly specific about where his brother's at these days. if valentino hasn't spoken much about sepang 2015 with his own flesh and blood, then is he really giving long debriefs to marco bezzecchi? are you sure? of course, unlike luca, pecco does have the dubious distinction of actually being at sepang 2015, so there's always the chance he was in the room when some nasty things were being said about marc... but my sense is that all the academy riders have kind of been left to their own devices when making up their minds about the marc/valentino relationship. just probably a bit of a no-go topic on most days. and while pecco may have initially been completely on board with the marc hate, over the years his stance has mellowed to the brave and bold position of 'actually, I have other stuff to worry about'. like, this is why you don't get this weird bez-style all-over-the-place behaviour from pecco - fundamentally, he is far too sensible and far too interested in his own career to be going around seeking revenge on the behalf of his mentor. it's not like valentino really seems to expect him to either. sometimes the best thing you can do is simply try not to care that much

soooooo fundamentally you get to this place where for quite a few years, pecco really isn't thinking about marc too often I reckon... it's very much background noise - even when he's gotten to motogp, he's obviously not exactly fighting with marc from the word go. he has other stuff to worry about! then marc is gone for a bit! 2021 is kinda weird because pecco never really felt in that championship fight (I mean, maybe he thought he was idk) because he only really got going late in the season, and marc definitely wasn't in that title fight... BUT pecco got his first ever motogp win as a result of a proper great defensive ride against marc at aragon! seven overtakes and re-overtakes in the last few laps! truly some proper smart riding, anticipating where marc was going to attack and figuring out how to get him back every time. and of course, that's like... got to be one of the coolest ways possible you can get your first win? beating one of the all time greats (even if a physically impaired one) in a direct extensive duel? genuinely looking at the current grid, I'd struggle to come up with a cooler maiden win... oh I suppose zarco last year would actually be a decent shout. one of those two imo! anyway what an ego boost that must be

typed out the response to this ask on wednesday and let it *vaguely gestures* simmer a bit, but actually thursday they had pecco on that motogp podcast thingy and talked him through basically his whole career. which is one of those cases of 'not necessarily anything new, but always interesting to hear how the bloke himself puts it', and anyway it does also cover a lot of the stuff referenced in this post, would recommend. I did want to quickly bring it up because pecco does talk about aragon 2021 in that (at around 23 mins in):

Q: And the amount of pressure, for everyone who doesn't remember - it was Aragon '21, vs Marc Marquez, anti-clockwise track, everyone's expecting a certain person to win. [...] Seven times, he passes you in the last three laps, and every time you have to find something, for your first win - A: Not bad, yeah? Q: How was that feeling crossing the line, because it's your first win but it's also the last three laps of craziness that you've come through? A: Yeah, I remember that... we were prepared to fight for this victory because we work at it a lot and we were finally prepared and as soon as started the weekend I was feeling great. Marc was very strong, Fabio was very strong also... We started to race and I did the pole position and then we started to race and Marc was like always super super fast in Aragon because it's a left hander track, he's very strong in Aragon, it's his home grand prix, so... I was trying the maximum and I was there fighting with him and for me was fantastic because I was very strong in a very complicated track for me. The first - was not the first possibility to win but was one of the first and we were fighting with the maximum with the top [player?] so defeating him in Aragon was fantastic and I never could have asked more for my first victory for sure. Because some win their first victory with gap or with some luck, we fight. [...] Yeah, was fantastic.

like I said. it's a really cool win! pecco knows it's a cool win! he knows it's a cool win because it's marc! even two premier class title pecco still feels deeply aware of how special that was

*reaches up to scratch at ear in slightly self-conscious manner when saying "not bad" about beating the eight times world champion*

because it does mean something extra to beat marc, right? and that's also what this represents to pecco, as an opportunity... obviously on balance he'd very much want marc to not be in his team, because he's not an idiot and he's aware it's going to be a bit of a nightmare. that being said! of course, would there be anything cooler than for him than actually beating marc in the same team... I don't want to sound like a broken record on this topic but just to reiterate, none of the titles won post-2019 are in any way diminished by marc's absence - and fundamentally pecco must know he's a deserving champion, even if he still considers himself on a different level from valentino and marc. but of course it would mean something special to beat him! it's already meant something special to beat him in individual races! it'd mean something special if he beats him this year, older bike be damned! and it'd mean something special next year. pecco is deeply wary of marc, and rightly so, but don't take that to mean he isn't up for the fight. he always has been

weirdly enough, I do actually think being valentino's protege might help him be sensible about marc. because the thing is pecco has clearly put some thought into all of this at some point and had to decide for himself... or well, to make peace with the fact that he is not going to be the next valentino rossi - and that he doesn't really want to be. it's kinda the casey versus jorge distinction: you can be a valentino fan and admire everything he's done on-track but still very much know that valentino the persona isn't something you really want to attempt to emulate because it just isn't you, or you can hunger after attaining that kind of 'character' and popularity for yourself and find yourself disillusioned when things turn out differently. pecco's in the casey camp, minus the desire to shove valentino off the nearest cliff edge. like he says:

man wants a quiet life when he's not doing the death sport. and, y'know, marc might not have quite those stratospheric levels of popularity as valentino does... but it's fairly obvious pecco links them in his mind, which is not just about talent. they're both Characters, they're both figureheads in the sport, they're both larger than life. and maybe sometimes, deep down, someone like pecco might wish that kind of thing did come naturally to him... but if he has felt that way, then he's already kinda had to work through all that. he's valentino's successor! he's the next big italian motogp star! but he's never going to be valentino. and he wouldn't want that life, it wouldn't make him happy - and probably he looks at marc with all his drama and controversy and thinks he wouldn't really want all that either. pecco's given all of this a lot of thought, and he's still probably a bit too self-conscious and a bit too aware of all of this stuff for his own good, but that does also mean he knows his own head and where he's at when it comes to his own status in the sport. both when it comes to the character and when it comes to the talent. sure, having marc's fuck you talent would be nice, everyone would want that... but also if you're a two time premier champion, at a certain point you need a certain cockiness about your own abilities. he's spoken about how he needs a more well-settled bike than casey or marc, how he can't out-perform the bike like they can - there clearly is a lot of admiration there, still the sense of respect and awe you probably can't ever quite shake. pecco won't ever be one of those aliens. but he's had enough time to establish himself in the sport before he's had to deal with the marc threat in a more active way, has had the chance to find his place without worrying too much about marc - has been able to build up his own confidence. at the same time, pecco is still very obviously aware of just who marc is and the weight of that legacy and it shapes how he approaches fighting marc. it's pecco's admiration vying with his arrogance - and he has to hope the latter wins out. you can't be fearful of the legacy of those you're trying to beat. you have to kill your heroes, even if it's a strange flavour of hero

anyhow - one big way in which valentino does loom large here is that everyone else is aware of his rivalry with marc and how it is crucial Historical Context for the pecco/marc stuff. because pecco does have that dog in him, he's fundamentally disinterested in fighting his idol's battles and is mainly just looking out for himself. a big part of the general wariness towards marc isn't even valentino-related antipathy or just respect for his abilities, but also this kind of sense of... god, this marc thing is always going to have extra implications, will there be discourse, can there please not be discourse... he doesn't want to get into this stuff, he doesn't want to be part of the sepang 2015 reenactment society. he's pretty determined to stay clear of marc-related controversy at every turn, and generally does do a good job of not letting the undoubtedly extremely annoying marc annoy him... the only time pecco had proper marc-induced head loss was mugello last year - y'know, that whole thing when he felt impeded by marc and then slowed down long enough to give marc the chance to warm up his tyres and catch a pecco tow to the front row. like that was just head gone, the kind of thing that happens when you already find someone deeply annoying and then you kinda choose the wrong moment to get mad at them. with a bit of distance pecco may well have regretted reacting that way, like you don't really want to give marc that kind of opening. he's been way more disciplined since then, but it still opened the door

fundamentally, the less time pecco spends obsessing over marc, the better for him. pecco obviously has to be very aware of marc and wary of him, but he also can't spent too much energy on admiring him or being irritated by him or anything else. (given that valentino's descriptions of the marc/pecco rivalry do seem to frame marc as a competitor who sounds an awful lot like valentino himself, ironically valentino is quite well-placed to offer the 'try to avoid letting the guy who gets off on annoying his rivals annoy you' advice.) it's always going to be tough, isn't it, competing against your heroes, figuring out how to disentangle those past emotions from how you actually approach fighting them, how to feel comfortable enough in your own skin to not be cowed by that status... you can't get to a place where you're so admiring or respectful or intimidated that you're already beaten before the competition even starts - and to his credit pecco has shown he is both willing to stand up to the famous marc marquez as well as capable of doing so. my guess is that for him, the childhood idolisation isn't primarily expressed in a 'wow he dragged the honda to pole!!' (not least when he was using pecco's teammate to directly deny pecco). sure, perhaps you do get those knee jerk reactions of admiring the sheer craft of your rival's riding, just have to do your best not to let it affect you. but for the most part it's... really wanting to beat marc. and sometimes feeling a teensy bit insecure about just how good marc is. and really wanting to beat him. he kinda has to be sensible and talk down in his brain how special this one guy is so he doesn't do anything silly, tell himself it's just any other guy... but it's still always going to be there, hovering in the background. and god does pecco really want to beat him

[confusedbyinterface]

Adela's Tarot

Finally back to Chapter 15, and while I don't have any bit stunning revelations about Catherine's wake I did some research into Adela's tarot reading. First, to get a better idea of what the cards might mean, and second to have a better look at the deck Adela's using.

I don't know tarot, so I might be a bit off about the symbolism of the cards, whether 15th or 20th century. If I'm wrong, feel free to correct me or add to what I've said!

First, what deck is Adela using?

Looking up tarot decks from that era, these all seem to be from the Cary-Yale Visconti Tarot deck

This set dates back to at least the 1460s, and could be from the 1440s, making it one of the oldest existing sets. While it's incomplete, it has some unusual features you can see here: First, it has six face cards rather than four. Along with King, Queen, Knight and Knave there's also the Horsewoman and Damsel. Here, the Damsel of Swords image is used as the Queen of Swords. Second, like Minchiate decks, it includes Faith, Charity, and Hope as trumps. Here, the virtue of Charity is used for the High Priestess: the Cary-Yale deck is missing the High Priestess/Papesse. It could be that like minchiate it doesn't have that trump, or because it's been lost. It looks like modern reproductions don't try to recreate the High Priestess as they do for, say The Devil, but either don't have one or just rename "Charity" to "The High Priestess".

This is a really cool deck, and I'll be comparing this tarot to the modern Rider-Waite cards as we go through the reading. One thing is clear, if Adela has a deck like this her mum must have been loaded.

So let's start with the reading! First up, Charity (the nun, not the card) was just finishing with a reading. Her present card was Three of Cups, inverted

Adela reads it as "A lack of time to socialize", as Charity says she's too tired to stay up and is going to leave partway through the wake. I'm not sure how much more I can read into it. I am seeing reversed 3 of cups being read as warning of a betrayal or spy, but who knows if that's coming up. Hedwig's certainly a "spy" of sorts, but it's hard to say if that really affects Charity.

Hedwig's Past: The Seven of Cups, Inverted

"It represents illusions, imagination, creativity. But as you can see, it is inverted! ...You spent a lot of time with nobody but yourself. Nothing but your own imagination. Clinging to this past will not help you."

Wishful thinking is one reading, but the Seven of Cups can also represent choice or temptation, as well as self delusion. The Rider-Waite one has the cups offering various visions. Inverted, it can refer to a loss of old goals and closing off choices, or it can reflect a moment of clarity. Old illusions have been cast off, false paths are closed off and you can better see the right choice. I can see both applying to Hedwig: as Adela suggests, leaving her cell means giving up her lifelong vocation as anchoress. But more recently, Hedwig had spent weeks in a depressive fugue, unable to progress on the investigation, and in the village had a vision which she saw as a warning to get back on track. That could fit with the reversed Seven of Cups.

Hedwig's Present: The World, Inverted

"In this reversed position, The World represents your inner torment. You are secluded. You are lonely. You are withdrawn... Because! Something has been troubling you, yes? Something you need to get to the bottom of. Something that has been preoccupying you ever since you left your cell. Am I correct? You were alone in your cell for many years and now you have been set adrift."

I'm also seeing the world inverted as a need for closure, incompleteness, and frustrated goals as Adela says. Waite says The World can represent flight, while an inverted World can be inertia and stagnation.

One thing I find interesting with both the Visconti and Rider-Waite World cards is their relation to Hedwig's vision. Hedwig's first reaction to her vision is that it's a warning about her lack of progress, as the inverted World represents stagnation and incomplete goals. Rider-Waite's World shows a flying woman surrounded by the four biblical Living Creatures, as Ezekiel and John of Patmos saw in their visions. Pamela Smith's illustration quotes depictions of Christ surrounded by the four creatures representing the four evangelists, Matthew being the man. Obviously this is totally outside the text as Waite and Smith won't be born for 400 years, but it's interesting that Hedwig had left the Book of Matthew incomplete. Similarly, she's failed to finish reading Medea, and will never have the full experience of discussing it with Catherine. The play ends with Medea flying away in a chariot.

The Cary-Yale Visconti World card looks very similar to Hedwig's vision. She was taken up, seeing the town of Linbarrow and the lake below, and when she landed on the hill she saw God looking down on her, like the figure in the card. I'm not sure if that figure is meant to be a woman (the hat and very high forehead look a bit feminine to me, but I'm not sure), but if so, it could also be Hedwig flying above the town. But the imagery, and Adela's interpretation, match Hedwig's vision very strongly.

Hedwig's Future: The Queen of Swords, Inverted

"A reversed queen of swords in this position means you will continue to have a hard time moving forward into the future. You must make some decisions, Sister Hedwig! This Queen in reverse suggests to me that you must find some strength inside yourself to move beyond your current predicament. Perhaps there is something small you can think of and change."

Adela is, perhaps, softening things to not scare Hedwig. An upright Queen of Swords is rational judgement, mental clarity and maturity. She puts thought into action. To Waite, she knows sorrow, and is perhaps a widow (Katherine?). In the future, she can represent a guide.

Reversed, then, she can mean emotion overpowering reason, spite, and vindictiveness. As a warning against holding grudges and failing to learn from errors, she fits with Hedwig's vision very well (Proverbs 26:11). A reversed Queen of Swords can be an absent mother, which could fit with Catherine, or Mabel's failings as Mother Superior, but I'm not sure how that belongs in the future. Waite sees a reversed Queen of Swords as warning of malice, bigotry, deceit, and specifically of a woman bearing ill-will towards Hedwig.

Much to think about, but there's more: while the text says Queen of Swords, if we go by the image, just for fun, the Damsel of Swords is equivalent in rank to Page of Swords. Waite suggests a reversed Page of Swords can mean evil coming through spying, or from an authority figure. It could mean some unforeseen events are coming, that you will be unprepared, possibly sickness is in the future. This could definitely come up too.

A paranoid, Pepe-Silvia overreading of this could ask why the Damsel is being mistaken for a Queen. Two similar swords, two similar women. Could this be Urim and Thummim? Could the women be Catherine and Katherine, or Catherine and Hedwig? Could Xeecee have just decided they liked how the Damsel card looked?

"Is this real?": The High Priestess/Charity

"Well... To be honest, I think this card is imbued with such mystery that your answer is... unclear."

"Isn't it funny how every card is imbued with enough mystery to mean whatever you like?"

"The cards have malleable meanings, it is true. That makes them better at their intended purpose, not worse."

Adela, of course, doesn't have the benefit of knowing Hedwig's question. The High Priestess is a symbol of intuition, esoteric knowledge, the subconscious mind. To Waite, she is "the highest and holiest of the Greater Arcana", the future as yet unknown, and mystery. He's a bit heteronormative in saying that to a female querent she must represent the querent herself rather than a love interest, but here I think that fits.

I think the answer is that the tarot will help Hedwig understand the mystery. Is it real? Maybe it is. Maybe it's just a guide for things Hedwig doesn't realise she already knows (as Darcy says of her vision), something that will help her make that intuitive leap to understand how it all fits together.

Now, technically, the card shown is Charity, not the High Priestess. I'm not sure how you might read Charity here ("Hey, Adela's just trying to help you out" maybe?), but when Darcy is helping Hedwig interpret her vision, the name of the track playing is "Caritas". Could be a connection, could be pareidolia.wav.

I included the Morgan-Bergamo Viscont-Sforza Papesse card for historical reasons. It's a depiction of Sister Manfreda, who was elected Pope by a 13th century heretical sect, which believed that in the year 1300 their founder Guglielma of Bohemia would return to earth and found a new church, lead by women. These Guglielmites were charged with heresy and Manfreda was burned at the stake.

As someone who knows little about cartomancy, and less about late medieval Lombard heresies, I'm not sure what to make of that. But I think I've made a decent try at sorting it out.

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 1B, MATCH 16 OUT OF 16!

*Though I am referring to her as Popelka, her original name in Czech, she is also often referred to as Aschenbrödel, her German name. Additionally, Three Wishes for Cinderella is the English title (with an alternate localized title being Three Gifts for Cinderella). The original Czech title, Tři oříšky pro Popelku, and the German title Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel both are translated as Three Hazelnuts for Cinderella. All names and titles have been tagged. Any local Czech or German speakers feel free to correct me for any mistakes! :)

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Danielle:

This is, imo, the single best retelling of Cinderella out there. She has a great character, her relationship with the prince grows organically rather than happening in a single night, and the scene with the bandits is top tier

The story is told as a historical romance instead of anything supernatural happening. Drew Barrymore is a cute Cinderella, Anjelica Houston is an incredible stepmother, and she's also really nasty to one of the stepsisters too, who ends up taking Danielle (Cinderella)'s side. Also Leonardo da Vinci is hanging around painting a portrait of Danielle at one point.

The Drew Barrymore Cinderella is fantastic. It’s got real history mixed with beautiful whimsy! I absolutely love the butterfly wings and how she spoke up for her step mother and sister at the end (and that they were still punished). I feel like I need to go watch it now.

she’s funny and smart and she’s resourceful (also her outfits are historically accurate!)

Popelka:

She has so much personality. She's funny, smart, kind, has a lot of spunk, and she really does things instead of just waiting for miracles to occur. Also, she's a great rider and has a deadly aim with bow and arrow.

She finds three hazelnuts that grant her wishes by giving the clothes to do what she wants. Beautiful dresses. The prince puts a ring on her finger while she’s in her huntsman’s outfit.

I don't know how it's faring in modern day Czechia, but here in Germany, Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel is still THE (non-Disney) Cinderella adaptation and a yearly rewatch for many, despite literally turning fifty this year. It's just so fairytale and also just... good? And she hangs out in the woods and shoots with a crossbow and saves deer and gives the prince riddles and then the music aaa the music!! I guess this isn't just a submission of this version of the character but this version of the story. For those who don't know: This adaptation is based on a Czech author's retelling of the Grimm version of the story, the film was a co-production of Czechoslovakia and East Germany and it slaps so hard it gets played at least 10 times (usually more) on public german television in and around December every single year. This is not an exaggeration, you can look it up, they even make a special, official info graphic with all the air dates every year that people can (and do!) share on social media. In Germany, the main event of Christmas is the 24th, Christmas eve, and on that day they play it at least 4 times (often more) at different times of the day on different public channels (ALL of which any German with a hooked up tv has access to) so anyone who wants to watch it gets a chance to. And Aschenbrödel herself in the movie STILL holds up as a (within reasonable expectations) feminist character, she's skilled, she's smart, she's witty, she and the prince actually talk and they like each other for their personalities, like... yes, there's a couple of flaws with the movie that time has pointed out, but mostly small, background things or things you simply cannot expect a movie from 1973 to get right. It's SO well made and just plain charming, it has truly stood the test of time and I would be devastated if it weren't included. It's also my mum's favourite movie (she's from East Germany and was born in 1969 so she's had regular access to it basically all her conscious life) so we would actually usually watch it multiple times each year and even record it (first on VHS, later again on DVD) so we could rewatch it any time and yet, I literally never got tired of it. It's just good & magical & I love it. Even my brother, who usually didn't care for fairytale movies at all and would much rather play video games in his room, would come down and sit with us to watch this one, THAT'S how good and magical this movie is.

And if all that hasn't convinced you yet but you speak German, here it is on YouTube, go watch it:

[Link]

(I won't provide a Czech link since I can't vouch for any of them as I don't speak czech)

Anyway, dear tournament runner: Have a pic of Aschenbrödel, in my favourite of her magically provided outfits, for the poll:

[Link]

She is the Cinderella of like eastern central Europe and the Story is a little different (she's no. 1 girlboss, beats the prince in a shooting contest and instead of a fairy she has 3 magic hazelnuts/ a magic owl)

[cestacruz]

I want to learn more about the master Artoria Au

🥹❤️❤️ueueueu

It's quite more extensive than Just the Holy Grail War

The lineup until now is

Saber: Musashi and Iori Miyamoto (Master(s) in the works)

Archer: James Moriarty (Master is Cassidy, i already posted something bout her)

Lancer: (Might be) Qin Liangyu (master in the works)

Rider: Ludwig van Beethoven (I already have her master but i refuse to post about them for now. I need dignity. I'll say two words to describe them tho: Hatsune Miku)

Caster: Zeno of Elea (no master yet)

Assassin: Hassan of the Shining Star (no master yet either) (also funnily enough, ive had Shining Star in this AU since two years ago, so imagine my surprise when he got released LMAO)

And well, Berserker: Queen Guinevere (and yknow, master Arturia)

It's sorta a modern AU but not at the same time, i'll put a cut here because its long and i ramble

It's not a Forced project to bring Arthur back like with Gray but the alternate name i use for this AU in my notes is "The Once and Future King" so...

History repeating itself sorta thing but without the doomed narrative (unless.) (Haha just kidding...) (...unle--)

The "pendragon|orkney" family does exist (as in mom(igraine)(she's alive), dad(uther)(he left them), morgan and lot, and nephews and nieces (morgan lost a bet to 5 year old arturia and had to name her kids after the knights) and more arthuriana characters are scattered around too, but they dont have an importance to the HGW part of the AU, with the exception of a few

They still call her Arturia (TECHNICALLY they call her Arthuria, because i love that name and no one will take it from me) because the few years that Uther was with them, he called Arturia "Arthur" because he wanted a boy and he couldnt cope (theres the History repeats itself motif and also misogynistic men like that still exist), so Morgan used Arthur*ia* as a nickname, and it stuck

This is where i will confess that im thinking of using a different name for Arturia, i already Kinda do in my notes. As in legal name (thinking of Aurlyn, which is similar but different enough). I would be doing the same with some of the Orkney siblings whose names would not be as common in the modern world or too obvious a reference, while still being named after the knights (Gareth would stay as Gareth cuz thats literally still a mormal name people use, but a name like Agravain or Mordred arent as common, ig. Or Gawain. And Gaheris. Actually only Gareth has a mormal fcking name)

ALSO mordred is Morgan and Lot's kid in this. No weird cloning in my modern AU. Genetics from the pendragon hit hard tho, they still look like Arturia

Actually idk what else to say rn, theres some more stuff but its escaping my mind, so little random stuff

Arturia's family has little to no mage relation currently, but they still have mage blood and sht

Also Merlin manipulated Morgan(modern) using her literal dreams, into freeing him from Avalon and he used to that hang out with little kid Arturia at the park (everyone hates him/chases him away)

The reason why Cath Palug is there is because this AU follows the F/SN timeline, which is a timeline in which Chaldeas never formed. Therefore, Fou never learned to love people, teehee. He only learned to hate Merlin and King Arthur (?)

Also theres a modern Guinevere, tho her name is literally just Gwen, and Arturia and her met during high school Time but they werent Actually classmates (think like, tournaments or trips to other school/places). I called her "arturia's high school crush" in the tags of a previous ask but they are still friends and talk a lot

And yeah , thank u and i am, Very happy that you asked bout it

[classtrialguru]

Okay here we go.Being a horse jockey must be an exciting profession and I am here to explain the in's and out's of Ace's talent.

Origins

While modern horse racing was introduced in the 18 century, the earliest records of the sport came from the Greeks as they had chariot racing as one of the competitions of that age, so horse racing was inspired by this activity, then it spread to neighboring regions like the Middle East, Africa, Persia, and more . Races in the medieval times were conducted to determine one's speed on horseback. The King's Plate races were introduced by Charles the second which were the first ever races that gave out awarded prizes and when the rules of the sport were first made known.France then established the Prix du Jockey Club in 1836. Betting on the winner has also been around since Louis the 14th.

The Process of a Horse Jockey

Well to become a horse jockey you got to learn how to ride a horse which probably means that Ace learned how to ride a horse prior to becoming a professional horse jockey. The legal age of becoming a horse jockey is around sixteen in America and England. Then you go to an academy like the Bluegrass Community Technical Colleges Equine program which is located in Lexington, Kentucky or the Professional Racetrack Exercise Rider/Jockey Program in Olds College in Canada, and The British Racing School in Great Britain. They also have to have a high school diploma or GED.They are also required to pickup a job in that profession like a stable hand or groomer which means Ace probably knows how to clean a horse in the proper way your suppose to clean a horse. Then you would need to get an apprenticeship license which in the US you would need to pass all their exams and be placed in a racetrack for sixty days by a committee to get hands on training. Another thing that a jockey would need would be a professional and personal reference which personally makes me think. Who was Ace's personal reference like sure he is very talented with riding horses, but with his overall personality assuming that his bark with no bite type of behavior was a thing before he went professional and went like "yep he'll be fine". I mean yeah the reference might be he's parents, but anybody else that was close to him would probably know how he would react in such a dangerous sport, but back on topic. You would then need to compete against schooling race and get your journeyman jockey license. To get your journeyman jockey license you would need to have a two year degree from jockey school and the schools usually limit the amount of students to twelve per year.Next thing to do is hire an agent and join a jockey's guild. The guild's bargain for their members and will provide life insurance, disability benefits, and will advocate for safe working conditions.

On The Tracks

Now that we know the process of becoming a horse jockey, I think we should get into the general stuff they do. The average salary for a jockey is around $52,645 and the crazy things that they only get five percent of what they win. They do a lot of calisthenics like squats and burpees, they're also some weightlifting thrown into the mix. Jockey got a riding simulator to practice how to ride and balance on the horse properly. They usually eat foods with high in proteins and fibers, but they diet themselves and drink little to no water since the weight limit of a jockey is one hundred and twenty five pounds. The horses also have to be one hundred to six hundred. pounds. The colors the jockeys wear are actually for the owners or trainers that employ them and the tradition was influenced by racing events in Italian city communities. Now there are five types of racing that range from flat racing to Steeplechase racing. Flat racing is the kind of usually racing where the jockeys and their horses go around the track to the finish line. National hunt racing or better known as jump racing has the horses jumping over hurdles to the finish. Endurance racing is a fifty to one hundred mile that takes the horses and their riders through different kinds of terrain like forests and mountains. Quarter horse racing is a race that's a quarter of a mile to see which horse can go the fastest under such a short distance. Lastly we got steeplechase racing which is basically the same as national hunt racing, but with different obstacles like water and bushes. There's also a race for horses that haven't won a race. Horses can get over excited because they know they are about to race so the routine in a stable is designed to keep the horses calm.

Betting

Investigation Time

So betting on horses is a complicated system of statistics and the ability of the horse you're betting on. So the least complicated bet would be the straight wagers, which the person would bet on if their chosen horse will win wager it will need to get first place, for place it would need to get first or second place, and for show it would need to get into first to third place. The minimum you can bet on them is $2. Exotic wagers are more complicated and difficult to win since you would be betting on multiple horses. So Exacta is where you bet on which two horses will get in first and second place, Quinella is like Exacta but the places of the horses you bet on can be interchangeable, and for Doubles you can bet on two horses that are in two different races. A technique used by a group is known as show parlay, where the group will bet on the same horse and double the amount they bet on. This is the repeated till they lose their bets.

So now we're at the final stretch. Now it seems that Ace can't do a lot to help solve a murder but he is very strong and stubborn which helps when bodyguarding the crime scene or helping with arguments as an extra insight. He also definitely has a lot of knowledge on workout equipment because of the requirements of his talent, which I will admit is very specific in the case that there's a gym in this chapter and if it was anything else then he would just be a bodyguard. If anyone has any questions feel free to ask at any time.

[therummesoccupied]

FANG THE HUNTER, ISSUE #2 - THOUGHTS

I once again find myself without TOO terribly much to say beyond, it was good, I liked it. Flynn's doing good writing, Rothlisberger and crew are doing good art, etc.

I, of course, loved the environments. Seeing Sandopolis Zone up close and personal was really cool, especially after we caught a couple tiny glimpses of it over in the Modern stories, but only ever as one small, barely visible part of the entire island.

I also really liked seeing Fang work his way through the tricks and traps of the actual level.

Really, Fang in general here waa really good! It was cool seeing how he operates deprived of his gang and watching him strategize his way around Knuckles on his own home turf!

Also, one weird little note, is Knuckles like... weirdly pale in this issue? Not really a complaint, just a thing I noticed. Maybe it's just me.

Then there's the B Plot of Sonic and Tails chasing down a strange aircraft that MIGHT be run by Eggman?

Again, the upcoming covers have already spoiled who's actually running the thing, but I'm sure there's more story to be had here.

What I find neat is that, when Sonic and Tails get close to the thing, it just... teleports away?

This is a Classic story, so this is, like... WAY before Chaos Control ever gets introduced as a concept.

It's probably not too much of a stretch that Fang's "eighth Chaos Emerald" is probably involved here. My current theory is that it's probably the Phantom Ruby, but I won't get into why for anyone who hasn't seen the upcoming covers and is avoiding those particular spoilers.

Back with Fang and co., I'm really interested to see Bean and Bark start to get truly fed up with Fang.

It all seems like it's building up to some conclusion where Fang learns to actually appreciate his allies and they see he actually cares and they go forward with their friendship renewed, but... I think they might not?

Hear me out, here, Ian Flynn stated on Twitter that this story takes place between Mania and Superstars.

Now, my personal interpretation of the story puts Mania and Superstars in different timelines - that's for another post - but I do find this look at the writer's intent interesting. In Superstars, we see Fang by himself. Bean and Bark aren't there. We've seen Fang alone before, but the three of them have been consistently shown as a group since the later Archie days. Even Modern Sonic still references them as a gang in Issue 3 of the main IDW series. But if the writers intend for this story to take place before Sonic Superstars, that means at some point, Fang has to end up alone.

I have a feeling that this whole arc may end with Bean and Bark, fully done with Fang's nonsense, really, ACTUALLY leaving him, and Fang setting forth by himself. A bit of a downer ending, to be sure, but I kinda like the idea, as it's not something we usually get to see from Sonic stories.

As we come up on the end of the Issue, we get another cool Classic setpiece, which I am told is Newtronic High Zone from Knuckles' Chaotix, a game I have not played much of.

It's neat that it's from that game, though, because...

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this screen from SEGASonic the Hedgehog (the JP exclusive arcade game)? Is the implication here supposed to be that Miracle Island and Eggman Island are the same place? Who knows. I might just be wrong.

Anyway, it was a long wait, but I really did enjoy this one, and am, of course, excited for Issues 3 and 4, as well as the return to the main series with Issue 69 (nice) and the upcoming Riders arc!

[whyisthereacentaur]

Introducing: Modern Monsters

Well, apparently, several written verses about how much you want your muse to return is EXACTLY the sort of prayer of devotion they like.

I’d been thinking for ages about posting some short and light poems in the lead-up to Halloween. I hadn’t really any concrete thoughts on how they were going to go, thought I might not get around to it, then found myself writing 5 in one evening(!!).

The concept, simply put: if the monsters and creatures from various folklore traditions are still around today, how have they adapted to modern-day life, especially if they still feel drawn to their old ways?

Not something that’s never been done before, by any means, but I LOVE the creepier side of world folklore and I’m having a lot of fun with it so far. Some may even be (shoddily) illustrated too!

Getting right into it with one from my own culture - let’s go.

Modern Monsters 1: The Dullahan

The Dullahan originates from Irish folklore, although probably more recently added to the lore than most.

It appears as a horseback rider or coach-driver without a head - often carrying his own (disgusting) decapitated head. A headless coachman drives the coach-a-bower, variously Death Coach, Headless Coach etc., which brings with it impending misfortune or death, and possibly collects and transports the souls of the dead. Consequently, there’s an association in some stories between the Dullahan and the Banshee, another harbinger of death.

The link with the Banshee (Beán Sidhe, “fairy woman”) has my mind placing him as another of the Sidhe. I’ve gone with the better-known term “Fae” rather than Sidhe above - apologies, please call it artistic licence!

So, how would the modern world impact a Dullahan?

Like many in Ireland (and many other places), I imagine he’d be pulled from the more rural areas towards a larger town centre because that’s where the majority of the work has gone. Many in Ireland value our various traditions and “old ways”, and I don’t see James drifting too far from his traditional role as a coachman. If he wants to drive around and make rent, he would have to expand his customer base though.

James’ customers started out being too terrified to risk giving him a less than 5-star rating, but it turns out he’s also a supernaturally gifted driver. You’d have to be, to have managed centuries of successfully driving a horse-drawn coach through country roads at night without having a head to let you see anything. His customers have the smoothest ride of their lives, and appreciate that he doesn’t try to make awkward small talk. These days, the 5-star ratings are almost all genuine appreciation.

After learning from the first few occurrences, he now tries not to take fare requests that take him too close to the hospital or retirement homes, to avoid inducing unnecessary panic in those looking out the window at the time.

~~~

Illustration references Monaghan town centre. Oh, and yes, the poem is written in limerick form for the Irish monster, even though the association between the limerick and Limerick, Ireland, is somewhat tenuous. Because it amused me.

See you tomorrow!

~~~

Modern Monsters series

Modern Monsters 1: Dullahan (here)

Modern Monsters 2: Kelpie

Modern Monsters 3: Kuchisake-onna

Modern Monsters 4: Cuca

Modern Monsters 5: Vampire

Modern Monsters 6: Dr Frankenstein

Modern Monsters 7: Frankenstein’s Monster

Modern Monsters bonus: Frankenstein, Monster

[asm5129]

Dragons: the nine realms—final thoughts (Full series spoilers ahead)

Genuinely, I’ve become quite fond of this show over time. It definitely needed to grow into what it actually wanted to be, and with only 7 or 8 episodes a season it took half the show to get there, but even so I think it really found it’s footing as it went on—some somewhat forced-feeling team drama in the penultimate season notwithstanding.

In terms of the characters, I grew quite fond of Tom, Alex and Jun, and even managed to come around to D’Angelo later on—probably later than the writers intended though, haha. Eugene less so but they surprised me by giving him some genuine emotional moments , particularly in the last two seasons, and most of them hit right. It never felt like the show was just repeating what people already saw, Tom isn’t Hiccup, Jun isn’t Astrid, and D’Angelo isn’t Fishlegs. The closest direct parallel would be Eugene to Snotlout frankly, and that’s about it. These characters feel like their own characters, not a cheap attempt to continue the popularity of what came before.

Also, Alex is pretty autistic coded, but never confirmed. Jun kinda is too honestly. I appreciate that the things that we might call their special interests are never devalued within the show, both turning out to be incredibly useful many, many times. Alex is an introvert who spends most of her time on her tablet, and even as she makes friends and socializes more that never changes. Jun has interests many dismiss as “weird” and she has genuine trauma around being referred to as such that is taken seriously.

The supporting cast of parents and other crew members of the research station the majority of the show was based in or below were pretty strong, with even some much less significant cast members getting fun moments, and also add a nice sense of diversity to the world.

The bonds with their respective dragons also always felt well established and strong, and I was genuinely sad when the riders had to let their dragons go in the last episode.

Dr Sledkin and Buzzsaw as villains never hit the heights of Viggo in RttE but actually think I prefer them to the human villains from HTTYD 2 and 3—definitely liked them more than Drago from 2 at least. And i actually felt like Buzzsaw’s change of heart at the end of this final season didn’t come out of nowhere. We had seen, in particular last season, that he is a man starving for genuine connection, so when his dragon—the only creature, dragon or human that it could be argued ever genuinely seemed to accept his presence—was actually at risk it makes sense his ability to put up a bold front would crumble.

World-wise, while the titular realms themselves couldn’t be realized as the kind of beautiful environments we got from the films or even RttE, I think there was some really great usage of the modern day setting for the conflicts that drove the characters and the story alike. There was also great use of the established stories from the HTTYD series. Even though we as the audience knew a lot about Hiccup and co, imo they managed to make Tom discovering that history meaningful. He is a direct descendant of Hiccup, yes, the finale makes clear the fact that Tom being very much a blend of Hiccup’s ability to connect to Dragons and love of exploring and Astrid’s more blunt, action-focused impulses was always very much intentional. I think that’s a smart play, and the legacy of Hiccup proves a source of very compelling drama for Tom’s expectations of himself.

I’m also particularly fond of how the final two seasons really reconnected to the Norse mythology that has almost never been brought to the forefront outside of aesthetics by introducing the World Serpent who has a name I’m not motivated to look up how to spell right now. Regardless I think the way they tied the world serpent and ragnarok into the story was quite well done, and the built in fear of the world serpent being the reason dragons freak out at snakes is a fantastic bit of retroactive lore.

If these characters were brought back aged up, with a bigger budget for new stories I would watch it. This is by no means a masterpiece of a show, but there’s a lot to appreciate.

[mofffun]

hi my name is yuki, unwavering rita's age. main over at (= replies/likes from) @meandmyechoes. inbox/dm always open.

Nitiasa live crowd. knows enough japanese plus hardwired kanji to understand 60-70% raw. all #kingohger spoilers. I stan the whole team but Rita/Yuzuki the most. i eat any ship but not enthusiastically. Am watching Boonboom weekly but lazy to post.

Directory:

gifs

translation for Kingoh extras / youtube @/moffuns

rita manga

my thoughts / headcanons / meta

weekly liveblog

trips to japan

kingohger movie (summary)

kingohger: cast / merch / reference / bts

Posts:

Kingohger:

Blu-ray 1 bonus: Prelude to Chikyuu Dance Party: [Gokkan][Shugoddom] [Bugnarok]

ep28 Body Swap ep cast commentary (King Chan #8)

Racules and Suzume's post-wedding dialogue (official snippet by Takano Minato)

Kings' ringtones

Moffun's Song

Rita OP dance solo ver.

Chikyu Language Guide/alphabet table

Yuzuki:

Yuzuki Hirakawa filmography

Debut audition clip

king chan sp: yuzuki vs ace geats

Yuzuki doing the Moffun voice onscreen

other toku stuff:

toku filming location tour (2019)

G-rosso guide

Watch list:

First toku was Ryuki at 8. relapses every 3 to 5 years since then. Now prefers Sentai to Rider.

Fave Rider seasons: OOO, Ryuki, W, Blade, Ex-Aid

Fave Sentai seasons: King-Oh, Zenkai, Kyuranger, Shinken, Time, LuPat, Gokai

Toku blorbos: Kido Shinji, Ankh, Hino Eiji, Rita King-Ohger, Stinger Kyuranger, Stacey Zenkaiger

OTP: AnkhEiji, KenHaji, RenShinji, PhilipSho, KairiKei, KaitoStacey

My first contact with Ultras was as a crying baby 😭 remembered at 7 really loving the humor in Max and running home to see it every day after school. For modern ultras I've only seen Geed and R/B plus a lil bit of Mebius and X. Want to get into Blazar this year. Minatures rule.

Another fond childhood toku is Gransazar!

[cookinguptales]

oooh I love your little playlist fic idea! Thanks for doing something like this! If it hasn't been chosen yet, 6 tends to be a nice number for me. As for a word... how about "esoteric"? Feel free to include whatever niche references to obscure folklore you desire; if I don't know something, it'll just be an internet research goldmine for future me!

Well, the song in question is Ghost Riders In The Sky, in particular the version by The Ventures. That said, I took inspiration from Stan Jones’s original version when I thought about how I wanted to go about this. And — I have to be honest, I’ve always associated this song with The Wild Hunt, a bit.

The Wild Hunt is one of those phrases that we give to an awful lot of disparate folkloric traditions that have a supernatural hunt in common, so I suppose when I was thinking about the direction to go… I used ideas about the old Germanic version of the ghostly hunts as well as a relatively modern addition of Hecate as the queen of the hunt (with a little whiff of Sleep No More, I’ll admit) and folded those in with Stan’s ghostly riders forever doomed to chase cattle they’ll never catch as atonement for earthly crimes.

Also, I made it gay. :|

(Hope none of that got too esoteric, lmao. THOUGH now that my beta has looked over this, apparently the actual esoteric reference in this fic was what a Black Mariah hearse is.)

The clouds were thick overhead, and the moisture in the air felt unfamiliar out here in the desert. A storm was coming, Danny could feel it. Electric potential trickled down her spine, and she could feel it nestled there in the small of her back.

She looked sidelong over at Ruby sitting on the horse next to her. Ruby’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, past the brewing storm and into the future.

Their future. Whichever one they chose.

“You don’t have to do this, Ruby,” Danny said, low.

“Don’t I?” Ruby asked, and her eyes flicked over to Danny’s. “Don’t we?”

Ruby’s voice was soft and husky in her throat, and it made something in Danny’s stomach tighten, like it always did. But this time it wasn’t just a wondering hunger, the simple joy of finding one lone soul out in these arid lands who understood the heart that beat beneath your breast; this time there was just a little bit of fear. “I—“

“Danny,” Ruby said. “Do you really wanna be a ranch hand all your life? Don’t you wanna get out there and see the whole wide world?”

Danny swallowed. Of course she did, and Ruby knew it. They’d lain there together amongst the prairie-fire and the desert lilies, a riot of color that painted the landscape for too damn short a time, and they’d talked about lands far away. Flowers that bloomed all year round.

Ruby knew exactly what Danny wanted. That’s why, back then, she’d curled in close and trailed her fingers down her knee. It’s why she’d whispered soft promises and halcyon dreams into her ear as she’d made her gasp there in the afternoon sun.

It’s why the two of them were sitting here, right here, and staring down at old Wilkes Pass.

“There will be people in that coach,” Danny said softly. And that was a gun there at Ruby’s hip.

“There will be money, too. A lot of money.”

Danny swallowed. Then, almost without thinking, she reached out and linked her fingers with Ruby’s there between their horses. “Let’s go back, Ruby. I know he’s not the best boss in the world, but—“

“I’m tired of bosses, Danny. I’m tired of all this. The only thing I’m not tired of is…”

Ruby didn’t say it, but her fingertips tightened in Danny’s all the same. Their clasped hands looked dark there together against the baked earth until the first few drops began to fall.

“Rain’s here,” Ruby said softly, and it was. It was like the sky itself was weeping at what the two of them were about to do, and the ground beneath their feet went dark. Black.

Danny could hear a faint rumble in the distance, and Ruby’s eyes snapped up toward the road, her hand dropping Danny’s as she took her horse’s reins in hand.

It wasn’t time yet, was it? The stagecoach wasn’t due round these parts for another hour at least. It came early sometimes, sure, when it was coming to drop off the miners’ paychecks, but…

No. There was nothing there on the road, nothing but the patter of rain and the faraway caw of crows who were none too happy about getting wet.

Danny looked up, then, wondering which way they’d fly, and what she saw… No. That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be real.

Her lips parted around a silent gasp, and it was one beat of her heart, two, before she managed to hiss, “Ruby,” and point up at the sky.

Obediently, without question, Ruby looked up. And her eyes widened. “What on earth…”

So she could see it, too.

The clouds were spilling out across the sky above them like floodwaters in a canyon, and amidst them, between and betwixt, Danny could make out shadows. They flickered in the storm clouds, a flame painting stories on the rocks at night, and slowly, slowly those shadows coalesced into shapes. Into figures.

Danny could see them now, riding across the sky. They shimmered there on their beasts, ghostly riders made of sun showers and lightning, and she could see the way the eyes of their pale horses gleamed red.

Ahead of them, too, hooves pounded, the sound of it lost to distant thunder coming closer all the time, and Danny could see the quarry they chased. Cattle, from the looks of it, young, strong ones that made their charges back home look downright pitiful.

They were beautiful creatures, captivating in a way, and it was only the way their eyes, too, glowed red, that kept Danny very firmly in her seat. Below her, she could feel the fine tremble of Sally’s shoulders as her horse muttered her discomfort.

Ruby, though… Danny glanced over at her again and saw it. The rapture there in her eyes. The way that the cattle’s devil-gleam was reflected in her dark eyes.

Danny had looked into those eyes for hours before this. Had whispered devotion to them. But the look in them now was one that she didn’t recognize, and that she didn’t like.

“Ruby?” she whispered, fearful somehow of being heard above the thunder.

“They’re beautiful,” Ruby said softly. “Danny, they’re—“

There was a longing there in Ruby’s voice that Danny didn’t like, not one bit. There was something faraway about it. Something fey. Something so desperate that Danny didn’t even know how to describe it.

It was like that longing called to the clouds, though, and their ghostly inhabitants, because there was a peculiar curl to them now, like they were beckoning the two of them up. And one shadow, darker than all the rest, seemed to still there amongst all that flickering carnage.

A long, low whistle sounded out across the plains, echoing against their little ridge, and Danny shuddered. There was lightning and thunder in that whistle, cowbell and the shriek of a train shedding its tracks.

And Ruby, oh Ruby. Ruby threw her head back, fingers to her lips, and she whistled back.

The ghostly riders rode ever on and on, but their leader, or perhaps their driver, peeled away from the pack. The clouds parted for her, and her pale steed left no tracks as it galloped down through the sky.

The woman, if words like that could be used for such things, stared down at them with a tangle of red hair about her shoulders and eyes that gleamed.

That, Danny thought faintly, is a witch.

The witch’s mouth moved, lips red as blood curling around words that Danny couldn’t hear but could feel all the same.

She could feel the witch’s words stream through her like a knife to the gut, like a spider’s web drawn tight between the dawn and the horizon and herself suspended upon it. Those blood-red lips whispered about love and freedom, joy and madness. They whispered about all those things that seemed just barely out of reach, those dreams that run from the best of us on hooves tinged with thunder.

They whispered about the hunt.

Danny recoiled from the sensation, but she knew without even looking over that Ruby did not. Hell. She knew without looking over that Ruby could do more than feel those words; she could hear them.

“Ruby,” Danny whispered again, and she reached out to take her lover’s hand in hers once more. But Ruby’s hand was so cold now, and she could feel the way it shook.

Danny chanced a glance over at Ruby, and her heart sank at what she saw there. Ruby’s eyes were wide and sightless, the sweet, pretty darkness that she’d fallen in love with taking on a scarlet tinge that scared her. She was mouthing words and Danny couldn’t hear, either, and she wished she knew what fey conversation the two of them shared.

Maybe then she’d know what to argue back.

“Ruby, please,” Danny said, her voice stronger in her throat this time. “Don’t listen to her.”

But Ruby couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hear her. Danny could see it in those strange, deep eyes now. The lust and the greed and the desire for — for a quarry that could never, never be caught.

It wouldn’t be enough, would it? It would never be enough. If they knocked over that coach today, the money would only whet Ruby’s terrible thirst. It would be opening a gate that neither of them would be able to close again, a flood that could not be dammed, and Danny knew right then and there that it would drown them both.

“Ruby.”

But Ruby wasn’t listening at all anymore. Maybe all she could hear was the poison dripping from the lips of that woman who was smiling now, wild red hair barely restrained by the dark hat she wore, and maybe all she could see was the way that witch was raising a hand in invitation.

Ruby’s fingers felt numb, cold, dead in Danny’s hand, and they slipped unfeelingly from hers as Ruby dismounted her horse.

Danny just watched her go for a moment, frozen in a rictus of terror, and then—

She heard it.

It was a laugh, wild and awful, echoing around the mountains and the canyons and the plains all around them, and though she could see the witch’s mouth open, the sound didn’t seem to be coming from her. It came from everywhere and nowhere, all around them, thunder in a torrential downpour and lightning in the hills ahead, and every bone in Danny’s body went cold.

She was out of her own saddle before she had another moment to think of it, and if Ruby was desperate to gain some nebulous treasure that would never, ever be enough, Danny was desperate to protect the only one she already had.

And Ruby, now, was walking towards a cliff edge. That sounded like the sort of pretty thing you might hear in a song, but women like them, they weren’t pretty and they weren’t songbirds. Danny meant it entirely literally when she said that Ruby was sauntering directly toward a cliff.

It was the cliff that they’d chosen as a lookout point, the cliff that would let them see when a stagecoach rounded the bend, bound for the little town that had served as their cage all their lives.

To Ruby, that stagecoach had seemed like freedom. This cliff seemed like escape. But Danny was sure now that this was just another cage, a snare set out by a hunter much, much scarier than they’d ever known before, and the only thing waiting beyond that cliff was a tombstone that neither one of them could afford.

The witch on her pale steed beckoned and Ruby stepped forward and maybe it was just as foolish a decision, but Danny didn’t know what this situation called for if not foolishness.

If not a little bit of bravery for the first time in her miserable life.

“No,” she said, and her voice wobbled in her throat. She swallowed hard. Tried again. “No. You can’t have her.”

That old witch, her eyes narrowed beneath the brim of her hat, and that smile of hers faltered. Twisted into a scowl.

Our choices are our own, little girl, and we must pay for them.

The witch’s voice was like spiderwebs and shivers in the back of her head. Like the faraway scream of a cougar in the night. It made Danny’s stomach go hot and cold and terrified, but instead of loosening her resolve, it only firmed it.

How dare this woman speak to her this way? How dare this woman make her feel like this? How dare she try and take what was hers?

“She hasn’t done anything yet,” Danny said, and she could feel a stubborn, angry, wild sort of desperation filling her, too. “She’s not yours.”

Yet.

“She’s still alive, ain’t she? She’s still got dreams. Not—“ Danny swallowed hard as she realized just how true her words were about to be. “Not night mares like you.”

She dreams of riches. Of power. She dreams of the hunt.

“She dreams of me, you old bitch. And she wants to be free.”

The woman sat back in her saddle, and for the first time Danny saw that it was all pale leather embroidered with scarlet thread. And all those designs, meticulous in their sewing, were made up of little blood-red names.

And Ruby’s would not be one of them.

We are free here in the skies, the woman said, gesturing to the riders, gaunt and skeletal, that rode behind her. We are not bound by human laws or desires.

“You’re nothin’ but desire, are you?” Danny scowled. “I know what you are.”

She was hunger and she was thirst. Jealousy and lust and covetous greed. She was the pit at the bottom of their stomachs when they hadn’t made quite enough to earn dinner and she was the dark underbelly of every dream they’d ever had.

This woman, this witch, was human want. But the booze this one served would only make you thirstier, until that thirst ate you up inside. Until it ate you alive.

She was a hole in the human heart where all the happiness leaked out, and she wouldn’t be happy until she’d clawed that hole in Ruby.

But if there was one thing Danny had learned about loneliness and hurt, it was that it could be patched if you just found the right thing to nurse you. Or the right person, as the case might be. And she’d been patching up the holes in Ruby’s heart for so many years that she knew it better than anybody in this world or the next.

She knew all about Ruby’s hunger. She knew all about her need.

And she knew how to sate it. No goddamn witch required.

You know nothing, small one.

Well. Maybe not much. But “nothing” was pushing it. “I know what’s mine.”

The woman scoffed, and the sound was like rolling thunder in the distance.

Danny ignored her, turning to Ruby instead and ignoring the way her back shuddered to be turned toward such perilous danger. She stood in front of her now and placed her hands on unfeeling cheeks. Leaned up so she could press a kiss to cold, cold lips.

“I know you’re in there, baby,” she whispered, fierce. “And I know you don’t want this. Because if you go down this hill, I go right down with you.”

She thought about all the time they’d spent together. All the times that Ruby had looked at her like she wanted to give her every good thing. All the good things in the world. She thought about every time that Ruby had held her, protected her, had guarded her against danger.

She felt Hell itself at her back, and she almost laughed at the way things had turned.

“I want to make a life with you,” she murmured against still lips. “But down there? That’s just death.”

She could hear the rolling of an old stagecoach’s wheels, and she did not turn. She’d heard those wheels before, and whether full of money or trouble, opportunity or danger, she knew the sound of a goddamn Black Mariah.

“Let’s go, Ruby,” she said. “We don’t have to go home, but we sure can’t stay here.”

Ruby’s lips moved beneath hers, and though she couldn’t hear the words, Danny could recognize her own name. She could hear a hiss of anger behind her, the wind kicking up fierce all around them, but she didn’t back down, not now.

“Come on now,” she crooned. “Don’t tell me you think that old witch is prettier than I am.”

Ruby blinked once, stared into the distance behind Danny’s back, and Danny could feel a shudder roll through the body beneath her hands. “No. She sure ain’t.”

Danny didn’t know what that witch looked like now, all fury and hunger, but the wind was furious, the rain needles against her skin, so she had a feeling the old bitch wasn’t happy. Her laugh came out more like a sob, and she felt Ruby’s hands come up automatically to steady her, just like they always did. “Always knew you had good taste.”

Ruby’s eyes flicked down to the road below them, and Danny could see her swallow hard. “The coach is here,” she said softly.

“I know, Ruby,” Danny said. “Let it go.”

“But we—“

“Let it go.”

For a moment, all seemed still. The wind, the rain, the wretched thunder of hooves on sky plains. It all seemed to wait for just one breath as Ruby looked down at the road. As she looked up and locked eyes with a witch, a devil, a goddess that Danny could no longer see.

And then Ruby closed her eyes and all the tension seemed to leak right out of her. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s — let’s go, Danny. Let’s go home.”

Wherever the hell that is, Danny thought to herself. Still, though, she thought as she dragged Ruby in close and kissed her soundly, she had a pretty good idea that they could make one anywhere as long as they stayed together.

There was a scream of pure fury, pure lightning and thunder and awful, awful power, and Danny could feel the ground shake beneath them. But Ruby was no longer looking at the witch, was no longer captivated by promises that she had no intention of keeping. And the bridle that the witch had been slipping around her neck had faded away into nothing but the wind whipping at their faces.

When Danny pulled away a minute later, the stagecoach was gone, and so was the witch. The rain had eased all around them, the torrent easing into a gentle patter, and Ruby’s skin was warm beneath her fingers.

Danny turned finally, squinting into the clouds on the horizon and was relieved to find them empty. And down there, not too far away from where they’d intended to lie in wait for the coach once it’d come into view, Danny could see the wrecked remains of a tree smoldering in the rain.

“Lightning,” Ruby said softly, and Danny could see that she knew it, too. That the two of them would’ve been goners down there if they’d chosen that path.

They would’ve been riding in that witch queen’s wild hunt a lot sooner than even Danny had thought.

Ruby’s throat was working, and Danny could see the beginning of tears in those pretty brown eyes. “Back home again,” she said. “To an asshole boss and sleep for dinner.”

“Or,” Danny said, “we could go.”

“Go?” Ruby’s eyes slid to hers. “Go where? We don’t have money, Danny.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said, and once again, she slid her hand into Ruby’s. “But I know we’re alive. And that means we can go anywhere we want.”

They weren’t tethered down yet, not to this land and not to the ghost riders in the sky.

Ruby’s smile was rueful, like she still didn’t quite believe Danny’s words but she liked the sound of them nevertheless. “Yeah. Maybe.”

They kissed there in the rain, just the two of them and no one else, and Danny didn’t know where their choices would take them in the future. She didn’t know what their tombstones would eventually say when they were laid to rest.

But she knew that they’d be laid to rest together, and their spirits would not be chained to the sky.

[starlupis]

had an idea for a modern au httyd(movie/tv series not books) fanfic/AU thing and I need to know if someone’s done it already and if it’s a bad/confusing idea or not

thing below the cut because it’s long and I don’t want it to be hard to scroll past for anyone who finds it and doesn’t wanna read it lmao

The dragon riders(referring to Hiccup, Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut. Not the A-Team, Heather, or other riders appearing past the first movie) are like college student age(?) in this. In the AU, most species of animal someway evolved from dragons(ex: cats from Night/Light Furies, Guinea pigs or some other rodent from Gronckles, etc), and dragons have been extinct for hundreds of years. The riders all have pets that evolved from whatever dragon they have in the actual movies(ex: Toothless is a cat. AU Hiccup names him Toothless because he had a tooth missing when he found him.) and the animals still have some abilities from their dragon ancestors, but it’s been so long since they've used them that most don’t remember how to use them, nor that they have them. AU Hiccup has insisted for years that dragons were real at one point and aren’t just a legend and while doing research accidentally sets off a sort of dragon instinct in Toothless and he accidentally breathes a bit of fire, accidentally burning a pen Hiccup was holding, but somewhat proving Hiccup’s theories. So he meets up with the other dragon riders(in the AU they all work at the same place, haven’t figured out what the job is yet though.) holding this thick book where he put all his research and while trying to show the other dragon riders(who, excluding Fishlegs, still deny dragons’ existence) a page on Hideous Zipplebacks with some notes detailing the gas and sparks they use to explode stuff, Barf and Belch(I think they’ll be ferrets in the AU? Not quite sure. Think I’ll keep it at ferret though at least for now since Zipplebacks have two heads and ferrets are meant to be kept in pairs/groups you know? Also Ruffnut and Tuffnut carry their pet ferrets everywhere in their pockets/sleeves/whatever they can carry them in.) try it and accidentally explode a paper about dragons Fishlegs was going to show Hiccup, the twins get yelled at but are ECSTATIC at the fact they have pets that are literal portable fuzzy bombs. and the riders have a conversation about it once they get over the shock of the concept of dragons existing they talk about it and stuff and yeah. I’m not sure what would happen next yet so I’m not actually writing this or trying to go any farther in the story yet until I figure out if this is actually a decent idea.

Any opinions/critique is appreciated /nf