#SaddleSore

[whywishesarehorses]

“Saddlesore”

[maxrev]

Yeehawgust 2023 - Saddlesore

Deacon goes horseback riding...or, is the horse the disguise?

[cowboyreminders]

Week 4 - Saddlesore 🎠 @yeehawgust

[thesconesyard]

Yeehaw! Today I just couldn’t make ‘rodeo clown’ fit my story, so I used the week’s prompt.

When the Cactus Blooms

(20.) Week 4: Saddlesore

Everyone turned out to the yard a few days later when their guests had to leave. It had been a lively few days and though McCoy tried his best not to show it, he would miss them. Miss Roberts had made some delicious things to eat that reminded McCoy of when he was little. She had insisted everyone call her Barbie, but McCoy just couldn’t be broken of his manners towards a female guest.

The two younger girls had been delighted to be called ‘miss’ before their names. The youngest, Miss Chelsea, had stood a little straighter and her eyes twinkled every time McCoy called her that.

Thank yous and hugs were given freely many times over before the three girls and Mr. Carson were safely loaded into the coach, the two horses trotting away down toward the gate. Slowly everyone drifted off from waving, leaving McCoy standing with Scotty.

“You make such good friends everywhere you go?” McCoy asked with a smile.

“I made friends with ye didn’t I?” Scotty retorted with his own smile.

“Suppose I walked myself into that one,” McCoy chuckled.

“Come on love, let’s go work.”

Chekov and Jaylah were standing at the paddock fence when McCoy and Scotty turned the corner by the stables.

“Never?” Chekov was asking.

“Once. When I was little.”

“Jaylah has never ridden a horse,” Chekov told McCoy and Scotty when he noticed them.

“That’s not unusual, lad. Christine and Uhura don’t ride that often. Lots of people ride in a wagon or coach,” Scotty said.

“Do you wanna ride?” McCoy asked the young woman.

“Maybe,” Jaylah replied quietly.

“Honey is a sweet horse.” McCoy gave his normal two note whistle and across the field, Honey lifted her head. “C’mere girl!” he called.

“We can teach you,” Chekov said eagerly.

“There’s a girl,” McCoy laughed as Honey pushed her head across the fence at him. He lifted his hand to pat her neck.

“May I?” Jaylah asked hesitantly.

“Yep. Right up here by her ears. She likes a scratch there, don’t ya Honey?”

Cautiously Jaylah reached up. Chekov was grinning. McCoy winked at Scotty. They both could see the younger man’s interest.

“Tomorrow say,” McCoy looked at Jaylah. “We’ve got work to finish now, but tomorrow we could plan a lesson. Go for a ride down the creek and the river. Have a picnic. What d’ya think?”

Jaylah’s eyes lit up.

“All of you?”

McCoy looked at Scotty and they both nodded.

“Of course!” Chekov exclaimed.

“I would like that,” Jaylah said firmly.

“That’s settled then,” Scotty said.

“You’ll love it!” Chekov smiled at Jaylah. “When the wind is racing past and your heart pounds with every hoof beat!” His face flushed as he looked over at McCoy and Scotty.

“We’ll see you two,” McCoy said quickly to save Chekov anymore embarrassing himself.

The next morning found McCoy in the kitchen after breakfast with Jaylah. Uhura had found them a basket and they were packing it with a lunch time meal for four.

“Dr. Bones…” Jaylah’s voice was nervous and he could see her eyes were too when he turned to look.

“Just Leonard, Jaylah. You can call me by my name,” he smiled at her gently.

“Leonard…” she got the name out hesitantly. “Would it be easier to ride… if I wore pants?” She gestured to her legs hidden by her skirt.

McCoy couldn’t hide a small chuckle.

“You wear what will be comfortable for you sweetheart. No one’s gonna judge anyone around here.”

“I would like to then,” Jaylah said with a small smile.

McCoy stood back and regarded her. “I’ll be back. You good taking care of the rest of this?”

Jaylah nodded, and McCoy headed out.

He found Chekov in the stables helping Scotty saddle the horses.

“I need your pants,” McCoy called.

“Uhh, it might be a bit early love,” Scotty said, fighting not to blush.

“No,” McCoy laughed. “I need Pavel’s.”

“Is there something I should know?” Scotty asked archly.

Chekov was staring at the doctor, red faced. McCoy ran a hand over his face.

“I need one of your pairs. You and Jaylah are about the same height. I’d ask Jim, but he’s bigger around than her. I keep trying to get him to eat better…”

“Why do you need my pants?” Chekov still looked confused.

“Jaylah doesn’t have any, so we’re gonna borrow a pair of yours,” McCoy explained.

“Ah.”

McCoy could see Chekov still didn’t quite understand, but the young man headed out quickly and McCoy took over the saddling up.

“She thinks it might be easier for riding,” he explained to Scotty.

Soon the four were horseback and following the creek. Jaylah had been unusually timid as they explained basics to her, but once up and going on Honey, she found her rhythm and was her normal self soon enough.

Chekov rode beside her, offering advice and encouragement. McCoy and Scotty followed behind, content to let the young pair set the pace.

“She’s a quick learner,” Scotty said with admiration.

“That she is,” McCoy couldn’t help agreeing.

A pleasant picnic, a few races and a leisurely ride home finished their day. Jaylah had enjoyed herself immensely and McCoy was happy they could lift her grief for a bit.

Though he was unsure about that the next morning when she didn’t show for breakfast. He made his way to her door after and knocked.

“Jaylah?”

“Oh! Leonard!” she called back.

“What’s wrong?” McCoy asked, ready to leap into action.

“I can’t move!”

“I’m coming in,” he warned and opened the door. “What’s wrong? What can’t move?”

“I hurt all over!”

“All over?”

“My legs won’t do what I tell them and my back hurts,” Jaylah told him, sounding very young in her worry.

It hit him a moment later and he had to stifle a laugh and hide a smile.

“It’s from riding,” he managed to say. “You’re not used to it. Your muscles got all moved around in new ways and you’re sore today.”

“Oh! I hate it!”

“I’ll send one of the gals in to help you. Getting up and moving will actually help more. You’ll be fine. I promise,” he said as he looked back from the doorway. “You’ll be fine.”

[plenty-o-sunshine-stims]

🦃Saddlesore Swanson Gifset!🦃

🦃 🪕 🦃//🪕 🦃 🪕//🦃 🪕 🦃

The first of many requests from discord, this is a Saddlesore Swanson gifset. I tried to fit all of his appearances in (America Sings, DL Splash, WDW Splash). Also, it fits perfectly for Thanksgiving (had I posted it on time like I intended, but alas. Life has another plans). Be sure to check out the sources, a lot of them are from great videos. Enjoy!

[constant-state-of-self-discovery]

So beautiful and yet watching her ride made my ass so sore

Description: [A video of a woman riding a galloping horse bareback while holding a large rainbow flag.]

[cliffburton]

i can't listen to my sharona without thinking of jimbo/dolph/kearney bc of that episode (marge's son poisoning, s:16 if i'm not mistaken) (i'm sure of the name not of the season). moreso that destruction cover. i can picture them bantering about it "that cover is so siiiick duuuude" (jimbo) "yeah but it doesn't have the spirit of the original" (kearney) "it's a cover what were you expecting man" (dolph)

[cyclingshop]

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[literatecowboy]

The King With No Name

6. Road Bandits and Kisses

Part 1 here Next Part (7) Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: I want to use the space here to apologize if this isn't up to my usual standards. I've been rather stressed lately and a sudden bug infestation of my home has exhausted me. Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection, kisses (finally), mentions of arousal

-----

A little after nightfall, you reached the seat of König’s power. The city that surrounded his castle was the largest you’d ever seen and still bustled with life despite the late hour. König had insisted on you riding in a carriage with him to move inconspicuously through the streets and you were too saddlesore to argue, climbing in with him quickly.

You watched out the windows as you were driven through the streets. Candles were being blown out as people turned in for bed and the world quieted. Bugs chirped and buzzed to each other across the night air. A barking dog and crying baby could faintly be heard from somewhere in the distance.

The castle was as large as the city, fit for a king as mighty as König. As the carriage stopped before the great hall, he helped you out and onto the road, heading for the open doors. A figure approached to meet him as he arrived.

“Sir, it is relieving to see you back. I must speak with you immediately. A gang of bandits has been ambushing wagons on the roads outside of the city and your guards have not lifted a finger to help us catch them. My deputies can only do so much on their own,” he said. König paused.

“I am disappointed to hear that, Sheriff Klein. Rest assured I will personally have Sir Wilhelm assist you with the issue tomorrow. The guards in question will be spoken to,” König said, shaking his head.

“It cannot wait, I am afraid. They grow bolder each day. Just last night the baker almost lost his life returning home in the evening when he had no coin to hand over,” the sheriff said, looking up at König with concern in his eyes.

“Very well, I will send for assistance as soon as possible, but I cannot help you now. My wife has arrived and I must see her inside,” König said, gesturing to you. Sheriff Klein seemed to notice you for the first time and bowed.

“My lady, I am sorry for the intrusion. I do not mean to worry you,” he said.

“No, don’t apologize. This sounds serious. König, you and I can go help him, can’t we?” you asked, stifling a yawn.

“No, maus, you must rest. I will see you inside and then I will go speak with my men,” he said, resting his hand on the small of your back and gently guiding you towards the doors.

“I will see you soon, sheriff. Wait in your office,” he said. You watched as the sheriff left, heading into one of the castle’s large towers before disappearing.

“Come in and rest, maus,’ König murmured, leading you inside and through a grand hall. You barely had time to take everything in - the light was low and he was hurrying you.

“I will show you your home tomorrow,” he promised, guiding you up a grand staircase and down several more long halls before opening a large door for you and ushering you inside.

“König, wait, I have no idea where I am,” you protested as you stepped into the room, glancing around. König slowed for a moment and took your hands gently.

“Rest, maus. Your things are here - my men have brought them for you already. Take a bath and sleep. I will be back with you by the morning,” he assured, squeezing your hands. And then he was gone, back through the door from which he had come, calling out and asking if any of the soldiers in the hall knew where Sir Wilhelm was.

You looked around as the door slammed closed, taking the exceptionally large room in. A fire roared in the fireplace, illuminating the space with flickering light. A large bed sat against the back wall, no doubt having been built especially for König.

A second doorway led off to what was no doubt a bathroom and a third revealed a balcony bathed in moonlight. You sat down on one of the lounges with a sigh and rubbed your forehead, watching out the large windows. You blinked when you caught sight of the sheriff loading up a prison wagon by himself, hitching horses to it and seemingly preparing to leave. The sight of him made you spring to life once more and you ran out to the balcony, calling out to him below.

“Are you going by yourself?” you called, waving at him to catch his attention. He looked up at you, surprised.

“I cannot wait on more men, my lady. The time in which they tend to strike is drawing near,” he admitted, climbing into the wagon’s driver’s seat.

“Wait for me!” you cried, dashing back inside. It took you a minute of digging through cabinets but you found your weapons, shoving your knife into your belt and strapping your bow to your back. Already armored for the road, you paused only to snag a large helmet from a display of König’s war armor and raced back onto the balcony.

Sheriff Klein looked nervous as you climbed down the trellis that supported the vines and flowers growing against the castle walls and glanced around several times as you hit the ground and jogged up to the wagon.

“Let’s go!” you whisper-yelled as you climbed into the seat beside him, grinning and resting your bow in your lap.

“Are you sure about this, ma’am? The men I’m hunting are dangerous. They wouldn’t think twice about killing or stealing away a woman,” he warned, eyeing you warily.

“I’ve already been stolen, sir, and I’ve been itching for a proper fight ever since.”

—

The wagon rumbled loudly across the cobblestones as Sheriff Klein drove quickly through the city streets, but not a soul dared to stop you. When you reached the ambush site you found yourself just outside of a little farm on a road that snaked in between two cliffs - perfect for ambushes from above.

“This is the road that they use to bring stolen goods in and out of the city,” Sheriff Klein explained as he parked the wagon a few meters off into the trees to hide it from view. He unlocked the large door to the back, which was essentially a cage built to contain up to ten men.

“We should post up on the cliffs and shoot them from above,” you murmured, following the sheriff as he hurried up the hill, keeping an eye out for approaching men.

“That’s the plan, but the aim is to capture, not kill. I want these men alive so that they might be tried fairly,” the sheriff said. “Kill only if necessary, in self-defense.” You nodded.

“We should block their way if they try to escape. Box them in and force them to go one way or another,” you said, scanning the moonlit road below you.

“If we had more men and more time we might have been able to spring a better trap,” Klein admitted, rubbing his chin and glancing around.

“Then this will have to do. I’ll do my best to disable the wheels of any wagon that comes across my firing line,” you said with a smile. Before Sheriff Klein could respond, the sound of an approaching wagon and several horses faded into earshot down the road, approaching the city.

“Stay out of danger, my lady. If anything goes wrong, run and save yourself.” Sheriff Klein murmured as he crouched down on the cliff, drawing his sword and watching the small group approach.

“Nonsense,” you hissed, pulling König’s helmet on and notching an arrow into your bow, kneeling by a tree that hung over the road, preparing to draw.

There were only five men with the goods split into two wagons, and once you saw the sheriff nod to confirm that these were the men he was after, you drew back and fired, your first arrow striking the road just in front of the main wagon to stop the horses.

They reared and cried out, backing away from the arrow as it sank into the ground. The two men in the wagon looked up, scanning the trees, fumbling for their weapons. You sunk another arrow into one of the wheel mechanisms of the second wagon and the wheel shuddered as it came loose. If they tried to run, it would undoubtedly fall off.

The sheriff leaped down from the cliff and landed on the road in front of the wagons, raising his sword.

“Halt there, strangers! You are under arrest for robbery! What say you in your defense?” he shouted, brandishing his blade at the men in the forward wagon.

The driver cracked his reins and before you could think twice, you leaped down from the cliff and onto the wagon as it shot off, leaving the sheriff and the three men on the disabled second wagon in the dust.

“Stop!” you cried as you sat up from where you’d landed in the back, scrambling forward and shoving the passenger harshly in the back. He and the driver shouted in surprise as the horses kept running forward. The passenger sprung up and out of his seat, clambering into the back to try to subdue you. You aimed a quick punch to his cheek which sent him off balance and dropped your bow, pulling your knife free and slashing at him with it. He stumbled as he went for his own but the wagon hit a rock and sent you both falling to the ground.

With all of your strength, you reached to your side and shoved him, sending him tumbling out of the back of the wagon and into the dust. You scrambled to your hands and knees, and having lost your knife in the fall, snagged a bit of rope from the bottom of the wagon. You lunged for the driver, wrapping the rope around his neck in one quick motion and pulling tightly, making him drop the reins and clutch at his neck.

“Stop the horses!” you yelled in his ear as he clawed at the rope around his neck, which only made you pull tighter. You gritted your teeth and grabbed at the reins that had fallen to the side, tugging back on them tightly as you tugged back on the rope.

The horses came to a stop with whinnies of protest and you released the driver as he went limp, kicking him out of the wagon and down to the road below. You whooped as you leaped down with the rope, your heart racing and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you trussed him up and stepped back to admire your work.

The sound of hooves striking the road made you look up in surprise. Expecting to see the sheriff, you paled and your smile disappeared when you caught sight of at least a half dozen soldiers riding hard for the wagon, König leading them.

They skidded to a stop as they reached the wagon and König launched off of his prancing horse, searching the scene for you with wild eyes.

“Maus!” he shouted, barreling towards you. You couldn’t help but grin despite his obvious anger.

“König, I did it!” you called proudly, trotting towards him as he approached. He reached for you, anger and concern radiating from him. You grabbed him as he bent down to embrace you and pushed his hood up to his nose, pushing your lips against his as your eyes fluttered shut.

Shock radiated through König’s body and he froze as you kissed him, his eyes closing instinctively. He grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto the back of the wagon, shielding your body from onlookers. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer as he kissed back, breaking away after a moment to catch your breath.

Your eyes fluttered open and met König’s through the mask. The anger was gone from him and he gestured behind himself to his soldiers. He slid his helmet from your head and placed it on his own.

“Take that man away. Clean this mess,” he growled, picking you up from where he’d sat you on the cart and setting you on his horse. He swung on behind you and wrapped one arm around your waist, pressing you to him and taking the reins with the other as he rode off back towards home.

You could feel every inch of him pressed up against your back as you rode in silence. He was fully erect, and you could feel his cock pressed up against your ass through your pants, each step the horse took grinding you back against him slightly. He held onto you tighter, not uttering a word until you reached the rest of the men.

The sheriff and several soldiers had locked the four prisoners into the wagon and were going through the stolen goods, attempting to identify the owner. König called out as you approached but didn’t bother to stop.

“Sheriff Klein, I must apologize to you for the situation my wife has placed you in. Thank you for keeping her safe,” he called, his arm tightening around you. You waved at the sheriff, a guilty smile adorning your cheeks.

“Thank you for your assistance, my lady. You held your own quite well,” he called. “And thank you, sir, for sending so many soldiers.”

—

König had mostly calmed down by the time you reached the castle and led you inside without a hint of aggression in his frame.

“Maus, you have done an awfully dangerous and bad thing,” he murmured to you as he guided you up the stairs and back toward his bed chamber.

“I only wanted to help and I was successful,” you argued, sighing as he opened the door for you.

“I was gathering men to assist the sheriff. You didn’t need to endanger yourself in that way,” he said, taking off the helmet you’d both worn that night and setting it on the stand.

“The men responsible for robbing merchants on the roads have been apprehended. I was only trying to help the people that you brought me here to rule,” you said, folding your arms across his chest.

“You cannot help people if you are dead or captured.”

“I apologized, didn’t I?”

“Not with your words.” You sighed.

“I’m sorry, König. I should have told you that I was leaving to help the sheriff. I just couldn’t let him go alone and get himself killed,” you said softly, taking his hands. König nodded.

“You are a brave woman, maus. A noble woman who cares for others. That is what makes you beautiful, what has drawn me to you,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen over your face behind your ear. You stood on your toes pushed his mask up again and he leaned down.

You kissed him again, more softly this time than you had kissed him on the road. He held you gently by the hips and pulled you closer to him, smiling and resting his forehead on yours as you broke the kiss.

“Take a bath, maus. While I would like your sweat to stain my sheets someday, I would prefer if it was not accompanied by dirt and dust,” he said softly, making you laugh and push away from him lightly.

He helped you out of your armor and sent you into the bathroom alone before unstrapping his and tucking it away. When he came into the bathroom you were settled peacefully in the massive tub, facing away from him as you dried your face on a towel.

“Maus, can I join you?” he called softly, tugging his shirt off and draping it on a nearby chair. You turned around, frowning.

“I suppose. But don’t…look at me. And don’t touch me, okay?” you asked softly, turning back around. König’s heart fluttered. He didn’t blame you for still being so shy, and even though he wanted you desperately, he had no desire to push you.

“Of course, maus,” he murmured as he slipped out of his pants and underclothes and let them fall to the ground. You turned your head politely as he approached and slid into the warm water, the flower petals that floated on the surface obscuring your body from all but the most scrutinizing viewers.

Once he’d sat down across from you, you looked up and offered him a hesitant smile. He still had the hood on, which didn’t surprise you. You sighed softly and leaned back against the tub’s wall, letting your hair hang over the edge of the tub as you relaxed, enjoying the steam.

—

Sometime later - you had fallen asleep - König roused you, calling your nickname quietly in your ear.

“Maus, the water has gone cold. It’s time to go to bed,” he murmured, gently brushing a towel against your cheek. He had already gotten out and dressed, and you grumbled a little and rubbed your eyes, sitting up slowly and taking the towel.

König turned his back respectfully as you got out, dried yourself, and put on a clean nightgown. Once you were finished, he took your hand and blew out the remaining candles in the bathroom.

König’s bedroom was warm and his bed was inviting. Too tired to care that you had to sleep in the same room as him, you slid into bed and buried yourself beneath the pile of warm blankets he’d retrieved for you. König followed you, watching the light from the fireplace flicker across your face as you fell asleep quickly in his arms.

-----

taglist: @0mint-chocolate0, @elowynnlane, @littlelovebug98, @saturnknows, @passdaweedgaara, @lexuria, @numnuts, @nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105, @acynicalcat, @poohkie90, @glitterypirateduck, @babyspice6, @hazelnutbitch, 

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

I really hate the fact that I correctly predicted that Viv was gonna create a straw man character because she truly cannot take any form of criticism.

Yes, I am aware of the fact that The Simpsons did the exact same thing with Comic Book Guy in Saddlesore Galactica (One of the worst episodes of the entire series might I add.) but the difference between The Simpsons writers and Viv is that, they don’t go on long Twitter rants because people don’t like modern Simpsons. Nor do they double down on their bullshit when fans criticize them.

You just know Viv is gonna lose her collective shit when she sees that a mainstream critic gave the first season of Hazbin a bad or so so review.

[perahn]

Good Friday, 2023

You were born, I’m told on a snowing night; Mary, saddlesore and shivering helped from the donkey’s back into the stable’s small shelter. Sometimes, though, I picture You born here Your star blazing disruption through the Southern Cross on a night too hot to sleep.

And I am told You died on a hard, bright day, burning with thirst under a scorched sky, Your mouth coated in dust and stung with vinegar. But I woke to rain this morning, so here I think about Your Passion in the rain.

How thick grew the leaves in Gethsemane? As the moonlight cracked through clouds the first drop touched Your hand. Peter, John, James - they were dry enough to sleep, but did the trees crowd close enough to shield You from the rain? Surely the blood, sweated through Your skin and dripping from Your robes, could not fall to be immediately washed away.

Rain, gentle yet, hissing in the torches, so their light is uncertain, and the men look more urgently for the traitor’s kiss. They took You quickly, hurrying to be out of the rain: home and dry.

A small space under an awning, a brazier warming Peter’s hands. A servant girl accuses him: he’s as wet as someone who’s been out all night, soaked like the criminal within. Peter lies to keep his sanctuary: he had work to do, he fell off the boat. He just got caught in the rain. The rooster's cry awakes a memory, he flees into the growing storm.

The crowd within are mostly dry, and warmed by hatred and self-righteousness. You cannot hear the rain strong and steady on the roof: it’s drowned in their demands. Only when troubled Pilate speaks to You alone, only then under his words and Yours, the constant drumming.

The soldiers didn’t want to work in the rain. They complained about the mud, they’d have to clean their armour. But, they said, at least the lucky ones with whips could warm themselves with exercise. They laughed and grumbled, as people do trying to enjoy a mucky job. They pulled the robe over Your flayed back, and perhaps the cool wet cloth might have soothed if they’d been gentle. There is no mercy in the crown and pain is harder when you’re cold.

The weight of the cross settles on Your shoulder. The wood is soaked and slippery already, and You walk. Your garment, woven in one piece, clings and chafes at every step. A stone turns under Your foot and you fall, facefirst in the mud. The rain falls too. It’s heavier now, forceful: pretending to be hail. You can barely see Jerusalem’s dear streets.

There are women, rainstreaked, tearstreaked. One of them sneezes. Veronica dries Your face: A small mercy, and futile in the eyes of those who only see the saturated cloth, the falling rain.

Simon of Cyrene is hurrying: his wife waits to scold him for tracking mud across her nice clean floors, he’s caught his death of cold, the foolish man. He smiles at the thought; his arm is seized: The soldiers push him towards You and the cross. This isn’t right, he says. I’m innocent, you can’t - They can.

You squelch together through the mud and stinging rain. Up the hill, and gravity pulls harder now. So tired and cold. There is so much left still to endure.

Stripped bare, laid down against the cross Needles of rain against Your skin, against Your eyelids are lost in the piercing of the nails. You are lifted, raised into the rain and cutting wind.

Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani!

The world should ache in silence at Your death: The rain falls on and on.

[svnshone]

@1642hqzstarters

setting: along the road to portugal who: yolande and open

They had their back turned, rifling through one of the small set of drawers on the back of the wagon- Yolande knew it was in here somewhere. Usually they were skilled at keeping organized- a necessary skill in their line of work- but travel made it hard. "Let me guess-" they said, hearing footsteps behing them. "You need help with saddlesores or sunburn?"

[monstersinmypantry]

did a lot of weird experimentation with this, but the idea was a horse that has freed itself from the saddle or something like that. i wanted it to just be the rearing legs kind of like those emotive pictures you see of people's hands. anyway. this is for yeehawgust prompt saddlesore

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 23: Wolfbrother

Spoiler alert: There are so many spoilers in this post. Probably. I just started writing it so IDK. But to be safe, you really shouldn't read this if you haven't read the whole series, at least if you care about that sort of thing. Me, I love spoilers, they make everything better, but other people are quite particular about these sorts of things so you know. Best to move on before you learn such startling revelations as this chapter debuting a new icon.

For those of you who are habitually skipping those first paragraphs: this chapter introduces a new icon. Is a pupper. There is no explanation needed for this one; these chapters are always about Wolfbrothers (usually Perrin) and Wolfbrotheryness.

“I’m the only one who’s supposed to get saddlesore, is that it? And when you walk till your feet are ready to fall off, you’ll expect me to look after you.”

Egwene is channeling Nynaeve so hard here, and of course it really just emphasizes a theme that will continue almost the entirety of the way through Perrin's arc until ToM in that he is perpetually assuming leadership surrounded by people who instinctively have a better understanding of everything than he does. Egwene is more than correct that it's completely ridiculous for Perrin to try and walk the whole way there.

There were only short rations of bread and cheese to begin with, and what there was gave out by the end of the first day. Perrin set snares along likely rabbit runs—they looked old, but it was worth a chance—while Egwene began laying a fire. When he was done, he decided to try his hand with his sling before the light failed altogether. They had not seen a sign of anything at all alive, but. . . . To his surprise, he jumped a scrawny rabbit almost at once.

They ran out of provisions on day one and this isn't fucking Oregon Trail where they set out with 3,000 bullets and can shoot 20 bears to be fine for the rest of the way. Perrin's plan to not go to Whitebridge is literally the stupidest thing. It's insane. The only reason that he survives is because he's a protagonist. I cannot emphasize enough how absolutely bone-headed he and Egwene are being.

“It was so easy back there on the riverbank, Perrin. Just the way Moiraine Sedai showed me. I just reached out, and. . . .” She gestured as if grasping for something, then let her hand fall with a sigh. “I can’t find it, now.”

So like, does Egwene get to skip channeling sickness because Moiraine eased her into it? There's been no reference to her having a reaction to her first time and I don't think she's going to be sick in a few days either.

But they found no place where men had breathed in living remembrance. Memories of Shadar Logoth kept them away from the ruins and hurried their footsteps until they were once more deep in places that seemed never to have known a human footstep.

Ironically, the one time they do show some kind of common sense, it doesn't do them the least bit of good. They're at more risk of dying from the ruins collapsing on them than anything else.

“Wait here,” he said softly. She frowned, but he cut her off as she opened her mouth. “And be quiet! We don’t know who it is, yet.” She nodded. Reluctantly, but she did it. Perrin wondered why that did not work when he was trying to make her take his turn riding.

It doesn't work when you're being a blithering idiot because it's blithering idiocy! Egwene uses her brain, so since "One of us should scout ahead on the stranger to see what's up" is a functional idea, she goes with it. Sadly, she's still in your ta'veren stupidity field, so the notion that sending Goliath to scout instead of someone smaller is also a bad idea doesn't quite manage to get through your Brainspawn-esque brain wave suppression. Alternatively, she's using him as a meat shield, but that seems mean.

Perrin gasped, and nearly dropped Elyas’s hand. The man’s eyes were yellow, like bright, polished gold. Some memory tickled at the back of Perrin’s mind, then fled. All he could think of right then was that all of the Trollocs’ eyes he had seen had been almost black.

I spent way too much time looking through everything for previous mentions of weirdly colored eyes before realizing - as the narration itself will confirm in a few paragraphs - that Perrin is just associating Elyas with actual wolves. Of course, wolves can also have brown or green eyes IRL.

“And none you will,” Elyas said, chuckling. “The way you’re going, you can travel all the way to the Spine of the World without seeing another human. Of course, if you managed to climb the Spine—it can be done, some places—you could find people in the Aiel Waste, but you wouldn’t like it there. You’d broil by day, and freeze by night, and die of thirst anytime. It takes an Aielman to find water in the Waste, and they don’t like strangers much. No, not much, I’d say.” 

I approve of your efforts to absolutely terrify these dumbasses, Elyas, but uh... they might not see another human going east, but if the didn't die, they'd absolutely reach the road that runs from Caemlyn to Tar Valon. Then if they were too stupid to turn, they'd still hit the Erinin and presumably die trying to ford it. It's good they don't know that though.

They were staring at him, those four wolves, Perrin saw. He had the feeling that all the wolves, those in the trees, as well, were staring at him. It made his skin itch. Cautiously he moved his hands away from the axe. He imagined he could feel the tension ease among the wolves.

Perrin, you're not imagining shit. This is the moment that his wolf brotheriness awakens, though for all intents and purposes it could have held off until book 13 and nothing in particular would have changed.

“It isn’t exactly talking,” Elyas replied slowly. “The words don’t matter, and they aren’t exactly right, either. Her name isn’t Dapple. It’s something that means the way shadows play on a forest pool at a midwinter dawn, with the breeze rippling the surface, and the tang of ice when the water touches the tongue, and a hint of snow before nightfall in the air. But that isn’t quite it, either. You can’t say it in words. It’s more of a feeling. That’s the way wolves talk. The others are Burn, Hopper, and Wind.”

As is often the case in books, the fact that this communication cannot be rendered in human words will be forgotten and everything will be explained to us in that form, what with it being the entirety of the medium and all.

“That’s very interesting,” Egwene said, and Elyas looked at her sharply. “No, I mean it. It is.”

"You're fucking crazy and you're clearly going to kill us and skin us, hopefully in that order, but your delusions are genuinely fascinating."

Perrin nodded. “That’s right. We thought about seeing Maradon first. I’d surely like to see the King. But the capital city would be the first place our fathers would look.” That was his part of it, to make it plain they had never been to Maradon. That way no one would expect them to know anything about the city, just in case they ran into someone who really had been there. It was all a long way from Emond’s Field and the events of Winternight. Nobody hearing the tale would have any reason to think of Tar Valon, or Aes Sedai.

See, Egwene's lie is only forgivably stupid - her mistake is not understanding just how desolate and long the journey from the nearest part of Saldaea to where she is now would be and why no one would take it. She includes no specific details that would out her lie - though it would be caught by the wolves regardless. Perrin's lie is monumentally stupid because there is no king of Saldaea.

“Of course not,” Elyas growled. “Wouldn’t have worked on me, gentling, but it made me mad, them wanting to try.

Light forbid you let them try, proving clearly to them that it doesn't work at no harm to yourself and thus opening paths to freedom that don't involve killing Warders.

“It isn’t as if we have a choice. We’ve had Trollocs chasing us, and Fades, and Draghkar. Everything but Darkfriends. We can’t hide, and we can’t fight back alone. So who is going to help us? Who else is strong enough, except Aes Sedai?”

There's some nice dramatic irony in this, since of course Padan Fain is chasing them as much as everyone else. And by the end of the series, all of the EF5 will be quite capable of taking out anything that comes their way by themselves, with the Aes Sedai in their entourages being mostly back-up. (Admittedly, this is because three of them are channelers and one will inexplicably pick up an army of channeling slaves, but still.)

Elyas grunted. “Dapple said that’s what you’d decide. She said the girl’s planted firmly in the human world, while you”—he nodded at Perrin— “stand halfway between. Under the circumstances, I suppose we’d better go south with you. Otherwise, you’ll probably starve to death, or get lost, or—”

Halfway nothing. Perrin's so far over on the human side of things that he's currently using Egwene as a shield and pushing her out of firmness. And frankly, if Elyas had told Egwene she was a Wolfsister, she would have asked if they could stay up all night for extra lessons in having yellow eyes. Only reason she's dead set on Tar Valon is that it's her only education opportunity at the mo'; if anyone had had some cool counteroffers she might have dallied.

Perrin sat wrapped in his own silence. He could feel Burn leaving. And the scarred male was not the only one; a dozen others, all young males, loped after him. He wanted to believe it was all Elyas playing on his imagination, but he could not. Just before the departing wolves faded from his mind, he felt a thought he knew came from Burn, as sharp and clear as if it were his own thought. Hatred. Hatred and the taste of blood.

I always forget that Burn is such a buzzkill. Jordan could have done a much better job of justifying Perrin's refusal to engage with his powers if more wolves had been like him (or if he hadn't met Elyas until much later while still picking up the gift and being exposed to Noam first, which is the direction I think the show is going), but after this book the wolves kinda become interchangeable plot minions except for Hopper. Ah well. This chapter still ends on a good note as is, and I should emphasize that after spending this whole time bitching about every time Perrin so much as breathed.

Next time, we'll be back to Rand, Mat, and Thom, a trio of dudes I have a lot less urge to complain about than Perrin - and when we get to his next chapter after that, he and Egwene will be involved in 100% fewer stupid plans, which should improve my mood on that front too. See ya then!

[plenty-o-sunshine-stims]

🎊🚢Splash Mountain: Doo-Dah Landing🎊🚢

My oh my, what a wonderful day! Such a vibrant and happy scene.

[new-employeeamillion]

I think a lot about what animation cels I’d want on my wall if I ever get into collecting them. The Simpsons is an obvious starting point, because they did nearly 300 episodes on cels. Because I’m a bit thrifty with my purchases, I get the sense most of the more beloved scenes have been snatched up for thousands long ago, leaving less remarkable cels on the market. There’s some great scenes on display here, but what I mean is Homer going crazy or anything with Lyle Lanley is likely within possession of aristocrats.

That’s why when I’m looking for Simpsons cels, I’m looking for some of the more infamous episodes/moments. They kept producing them this way for a while after the classic era ended, yet a cel from Saddlesore Galactica or Homer Vs Dignity is probably going to be worth little to diehard Simpsons fans. But I’ll snatch it up. Give me a framed cel of the jockey eleves for $100! It’s a thought-provoking piece that deserves a special spot in the living room as a conversation starter. It’s still a work of art!