#and very much realized that I like riding my OWN horses

[anistarrose]

Saw a post that I do agree with — about how moving your activism primarily offline and engaging with people in real life is so much more impactful than angrily riding your horse into another round of online discourse, especially now. But at the same time, I want people — especially disabled people, and otherwise involuntarily isolated-feeling people — to know that there is activism you can do online, or otherwise from your home, that's different from reblogging a snarky post, and more impactful too.

The example I'm always obligated to talk about is online accessibility, and especially, writing image descriptions — an act that both directly makes posts more accessible to blind and low-vision screen reader users, and raises awareness of image descriptions to promote accessibility indirectly but in the long-term. This is disability activism; it is making a previously inaccessible space accessible and implanting disability accommodations at the forefront of people's brains.

As a chronically ill autistic person, the barriers to getting involved IRL are hopefully surmountable in my personal case, but not easily or quickly surmountable. However, the barriers to me writing image descriptions are much lower — and in fact, as a disabled person myself, I'm passionate about the topic, and that makes it easier for me to focus on. I subscribe to the burnout-prevention advice to make a list of a very few issues, tailored to your strengths, that you pledge to put your whole ass into, with a less selective list of issues you can pledge to do a little bit about when you have the resources.

Image descriptions are my personal Whole Ass Into It issue. They are, quite simply, the action I am personally best-equipped to take to make the world a tiny bit less shit.

And it might not be that kind of issue for you! I desperately want people to be aware of the possibility, but it may not play to your strengths — or, it may fit better as an issue you can make occasional contributions to without focusing on. (What might occasional contributions look like? Maybe just describing your own posts, and getting in the habit of checking the notes for IDs when you're on Tumblr. Or maybe just choosing one type of image to always describe that feels manageable for you — screenshotted tweets, maybe.)

But maybe you're not the best at interpreting images, and it would better play to your strengths to write transcripts! Maybe typing is tiring for you, or social media is bad for your mental health, but leaving the house still has barriers, so you find an opportunity to phone bank for a particular issue! Maybe you volunteer with a voter registration help line, next election. Maybe you stay on Tumblr but you adopt a fundraiser, or join a charity zine. Maybe you need to garden very slowly and steadily, to take care of your body, but you can grow some native plants, and strike up conversations with your neighbors about it, if you get the chance.

At the end of the day, I think two things can be simultaneously true: getting involved offline can be contextually much more plausible than a lot of people realize, and it can still have barriers for people with certain disabilities or other circumstances, while people lacking those circumstances may not notice. Luckily, there's no one mold for what activism looks like. Analyze your strengths, treat your limitations with compassion, and get creative about how to help.

[allylikethecat]

hi ally!! jumping on the random questions train- what do you do for work?

Yay for the random question train! Keep them coming this is fun!

My grown up job is in marketing with a focus on copy writing. However, because I can never not be doing something and also my hobby is *horses* which is very expensive, I also work at a bookstore which I find a lot of fun and is essentially me following my passion because I LOVE books and am a very avid reader 😊

Thank you for the questions! If anyone wants to send more that would be amazing this is fun!

❤️Ally

[lola-writes]

Duty Is Sacrifice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Velaryon/Strong!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Themes & Warnings: Winterfell, pov. first person, feelings realization, fluff and smut, fingering, orgasm

Summary: Queen Rhaenyra sends you to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. In him you find not only an ally, but something deeper as well…

Song: Skin and Bones (Cinematic) - David Kushner

Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

The wilderness beyond the Wall sprawled before me atop the outlook, an uncharted immensity dripping with anathema. A frozen wasteland, it held a cold that seemed to seep into your very soul, promising to turn your bones to ice with a single, lingering glance.

The stories from the seasoned rangers down below had painted a vivid picture, but this, this was a masterpiece beyond mere words. The frigid air, a living entity, tore at my dark hair and the borrowed furs – those very furs my stubborn pride had initially dismissed. Now, the only thing missing from mirroring those same hardened rangers was a permanent furrow etched between my brows, a testament to countless nights spent battling the elements. 

Their Lord was a wall of warmth which prevented the gnawing chill from consuming me. His massive form broadened at my side, his very presence thawing me. Turning to him, I observed the furrow deepening between his brows as he regarded me, though it wasn’t a testament to the cold, but rather something concerned. 

“Winterfell beckons, Princess,” he said, his timber thick with northern accent, “Let us return to warm you.” 

His gloved hand, rough yet surprisingly gentle, reached out for me. Relief washed over me as I grasped it, the worn leather a welcome anchor against the treacherous turret steps.

“Blazing fires. Hot stew. How’s that sound?” His stoic expression nearly cracked to the rumble in my stomach. I noticed I was still supported in his grasp well beyond danger, when I felt his thumb tracing reassuring circles on the back of my hand, sending a delicious shiver snaking down my spine.

Gently, I returned it to my side. “That would be most pleasant, thank you my Lord.”

Days had bled into one another at his side, treating, feasting, drinking, strategizing, and though I had no doubt I had fixed him as an ally to my mother’s claim, some other heat beneath the veneer of alliance had begun to simmer in his gaze, a spark that mirrored the disquiet blooming in my own chest.

The iron cage groaned its descent down to Castle Black, echoing through the black shaft like cries of the damned. From the moment I stepped foot in Winterfell, he’d woven a tapestry of comfort. He recalled every detail I mentioned in passing, and behind his every effort to make me feel at home was a gesture conforming to something I’d previously told him I enjoyed – a steaming mug of my favorite herbal tea, a book on a subject I’d once expressed interest in. He was unlike any man I’d encountered. Each word he uttered was a silken caress, so gentle it felt like he feared his own timber could bruise me. But a heavy weight had settled in my chest. My replies had now become clipped, mere whispers that barely escaped my lips. There was so much more at stake now beyond my desires. Duty loomed heavy on my shoulders. I feared any careless words or lingering glances could brittle the alliance with the Starks to pieces.

We mounted our horses and begun our nigh-on two days ride back to Winterfell. Though not as biting as the Wall’s teeth, the wind on the Kingsroad still carried a relentless edge. The only warmth to be found radiated shyly from the small fires Cregan’s bannermen had built, and the thick fur I wove tightly around myself at night.

As the colossal granite form of Winterfell finally clawed its way up from the horizon, a wave of exhaustion crashed into me, settling heavy in my bones. Dismounting was an ordeal. Every muscle in my body throbbed in protest from the days’ ride. My legs, leaden weights, buckled before I could even consider lowering myself. 

But before I could hit the ground, strong arms, surprisingly gentle, encircled my waist, and lifted me from the saddle before I could even think to react. 

We stood there, my body swaying slightly in his arms, our eyes lingering on each other for a second beyond my comfort. His eyes, normally the clear blue of a summer sky, were now a stormy gray, swirling with unspoken concern. A tremor of something akin to fear danced in my chest, battling the unexpected flutter at his touch. 

“Apologies, my Lord,” I stammered, cheeks flushing with a heat that had naught to do with exertion. “Dragon saddle is one thing, but I fear horseback is another entirely.” I smiled apologetically. 

Cregan’s fingers lingered on my waist, a gentle caress that singed through my leathers and into my very skin, sending a jolt through me. He withdrew them slowly, and my side ached from their absence. 

“Fret not, Princess,” he rumbled, his voice a warm current, “Two days on horseback have felled men twice your size.”

I giggled to his obvious attempt at comforting me. ���I wouldn’t bet on that,” I replied, taking trembling steps toward the castle.

Once in my chambers, I collapsed onto the bed; sleep, thick and heavy, stealing the day. When I finally opened my eyes, the only light in the room spilled from the dying embers in the hearth. 

A gnawing hunger, cold and insistent, hollowed my gut. With a deep breath, I rose, and dressed in my house colors, the fabric thick with responsibility. Then, I descended the steps in my hunt for scraps.

The massive oak doors of the Great Hall ground open, revealing a cavernous space bathed in the flickering, golden glow of a roaring fire. Laughter and the murmur of rough voices hung in the air. Fur cloaked figures huddled around the immense hearth at the far end, casting dancing shadows on the towering walls. Lord Stark sat amidst his bannermen; tankards raised in boisterous revelry. 

The merriment dipped as I entered. Heads swiveled my way, some splitting into knowing grins. The bannermen rose in unison, scattering like startled crows, their boisterousness replaced by a respectful chorus of greetings and a flurry of curt bows. 

“My regrets for missing supper,” I said, drawing Cregan’s heavy gaze. His shadowed form, a giant even in the flickering firelight, rose with a quiet grace that belied his imposing physique. 

“You need not worry,” he said, ladling steaming stew from a small pot over the fire and offered me the bowl with one hand. A grateful smile lit my face as I accepted it. 

“You grow quite comely as a serving girl,” I jested, a flicker of triumph igniting in my chest when his mouth quirked up into a faint smirk, a flicker of warmth dancing in his eyes, a rare concession on his normally stoic face. 

I settled onto the bench beside his chair and began devouring the stew, its meat and vegetables soothing the ache in my belly. As I ate, I stole glances at Cregan, his face bathed in the rich firelight, a mask of unreadable emotions. 

Regret, sharp and unwelcome, tightened in my chest as I observed him. I had a duty fulfilled, but a heart unsatiated. I had come to Winterfell to remind him of the oath his house swore to my mother, and he had not left me wanton. Yet, the journey back to Dragonstone loomed large in my mind. The prospect of leaving him, perhaps for a very long time, cast a long shadow. Unless he too agreed to join us.

“The Queen’s sworn allies are too few to win a war for the throne,” I declared, my voice tight with the weight of responsibility, “She needs your men.”

His jaw clenched, his stoicism returning like a steel mask. “Cursed be the Hightowers,” he growled, venom lacing his voice. “But winter is coming. War of dragons is never a small ordeal. If the Queen is in need of my men to defeat the usurper, you must allow me to wait out the winter.”

Despair clawed at my throat. Memories and tales of past winters surfaced, stretching on for months, even years. Without the full support of the North, we could be crushed before winter even loosened its icy grip. Perhaps reduced to cinders beneath the wrath of the dragons. 

“It will be too late,” I pleaded, the urgency in my voice cracking the carefully constructed façade I had built.

Cregan met my gaze, his eyes a stormy gray. “It’s the best I can do, Princess. I hope you will forgive me.”

A spark of anger ignited within me, battling the tendrils of despair. “You swore an oath, Lord Stark.”

He held my stare, unwavering. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, “You will have two thousand greybeards that can be ready to march at once.”

“What of you?” My voice trembled, tears welling up before I had the strength to stop them. “What if this is goodbye?” 

Understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes, and his brows furrowed in what I thought was despair. He came to sit beside me, the wood groaning under his weight. His large, calloused thumbs painted the tears across my cheeks. 

“I assure you, Princess,” he said softly, “This is not goodbye.” His hand came up to grasp my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting it up to meet his intense gaze. “I swear it,” he vowed, steel threading through his words. Hope surged through me; a lifeline cast into the churning sea of anguish. 

Starks do not forget an oath. 

“The Hightowers were doomed the second they put the imposter on that throne,” Cregan rumbled, his voice a low caress. 

The space between us seemed to have dissolved, his calloused hands engulfing mine in a firm, reassuring grasp. Silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, tension dripping like honey. I waited for him to say something else, but he remained still, quiet, his fingers slowly and gently exploring mine, each touch sending sparks of lightning up my arms. I met his gaze, my breathing shallowing as I realized his lips were but a whisper away, his dark eyes shimmering with heat, flickering with an unspoken hunger that seethed beneath my skin with each second. 

“Their betrayal…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers ceased their dance with mine, and began their path up my arms, “…will not go unpunished,” he said thickly, his hands now grazing my upper arms, up my shoulders, ceasing at the curve of my neck, the movement sending a sizzling sensation through my blood. 

With the cold that had plagued me so these last few days, I began to fever. My lips parted as if I was suddenly short of breath, and I felt a curious pulse that drifted between my thighs. My whole body, like to an unseen force, drew closer to him, and he tensed beneath his leathers. His frame vibrated with desperate restraint, the fire in his eyes warring between duty and sacrifice. 

“I am a man of honor,” he groaned. My stomach tightened as his hands inched up my neck and traced the line of my jaw, his coarse thumb brushing across my lips. 

Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his fingers burned through my skin. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though he was immersed in concentration. 

Without knowing the full implication of my words, I whispered, “Dishonor me.”

For the storm, only just contained, raged wild in his eyes, a low growl sounded from deep in his chest before he crashed his lips to mine. 

I received them with a low, beckoning gasp. My palms came up to his neck, my nails running the length of it as he explored my lips, the roof of my mouth, my teeth, and under my tongue. Then his lips traced my jaw, finding my ear, breathed his warm air into it, nibbled my lobe, then covered my throat in wet kisses. I tilted my head to grant him access, as low, sensual mewlings poured from my lips, something carnal infiltrating my veins.

His hands came down to my waist, and I gasped in surprise when he lifted me and placed me in his lap, my legs latching around his back. 

He was so big and warm and hard. His eyes were lazy and dark as his fingers began to lightly trace down the side of my neck, then hooking into my dress to bare my shoulder. He kissed it with an open mouth and moving tongue, and I quivered beneath his touch. Then, with a sharp sound of a tear, he had pulled my dress all the way down my abdomen. 

He groaned at the sight of me, his lips slightly parted, his hands delicately cupping my breasts as if he’d found treasure. When the cold made me shiver, he leaned into me to lend me his warmth, while his lips tantalized me, drawing close to my hardened nipple, blowing it with hot air, then backing off, kissing across my breastbone to the other, until I forced his mouth to it.

He hummed with throaty satisfaction, latching onto it and giving it one slow suck, grazing the skin with his teeth. I threw my head back with a gasp. White heat shot like lightning between my thighs, before pulsing into an empty ache. I swayed into him, bucking my hips into his groin, feeling him harden beneath me. He suckled my other breast in warm, slow pulses, circling the areola, drawing panting moans out of me, before he found my lips again. 

Gathering my skirts, he moved his hands underneath them, gripping the fullness of my thighs, kneading them, squeezing them, to the point it pinched me, and I bit his bottom lip in protest. 

Cregan Stark was a gentle giant in all matters but things salacious. 

A throaty sigh escaped his lips as his hands found my buttocks, kneading the flesh between his fingers. Hot, slick tingles pooled between my thighs, and my fingers curled in his hair. My body hummed in anticipation as his finger slid downward, a groan pouring out of me as he grazed over my wet opening. 

“Oh, Princess.” The words were like magic on his lips, shooting through my core in throbbing pulses. 

His other arm snaked around my waist, locking me to his body as he explored and moistened my folds, leaving me a bucking, moaning mess in his lap. 

I felt empty and sickly. A fog had infiltrated my vision, my skin, my mind, my inhibitions. I coveted him. I needed him, more than I needed anything else. His eyes alone could touch inside of me, but I could not explain the pulsing, throbbing, delirious effects of his hands, his mouth, his tongue, and I ached for more. I felt unfinished, incomplete. 

Until he slid a finger deep inside me, and I gasped. Hot, sweet pressure filled me, and once I adjusted, he introduced another, threatening to overfill as he fingered me. 

Fast and then lazy. 

Over and over. 

The room filled with wet squelching noises and my moaning squeals. His deeper, throatier moans vibrated through his chest and lit me on fire, burning in my lower stomach, blazing, desperate for feed, or I would disintegrate. 

My nails dug desperately into his shoulders, as any attempts of filling myself up to completion were in vain by the power of his grip around my waist. He trailed every inch of my neck, kissing it as it if were my mouth, with lips, tongue, and teeth. His fingers penetrated deep and curled inside of me, rubbing something within that sent pressure bursting into tingles and flames, my veins burning up like dragon fire, and stars sparkling behind my eyelids. I cried out with the purest ecstasy as my body shuddered and clenched around his fingers, and he groaned against my skin with dark satisfaction as I clung to him desperately.

Once my trembles ceased and I managed to catch my breath, he took my cheeks in his hand and kissed me fiercely, passionately, his fires still boiling for release.

“I am coming with you,” he declared.

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[zegrasdrysdale]

[ saving horses ] t. zegras

day 4 of kinktober (thigh riding w/ trevor zegras)

pairing : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : Trevor and his girlfriend decide to go work out at the gym together during the offseason, and she remembers just how much she loves Trevor’s thighs after watching him work out

warning(s) : smut ! public teasing, thigh riding, handjob, nicknames during sex

author’s note : i did Not know what i wanted to do w this or where i wanted to go w it, but here we are. all i knew that if it wasn’t requested for kinktober, i was going to do thigh riding w trevor at some point bc his thighs are crazyyy

kinktober schedule

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It was her idea to go with Trevor to the gym to work out to begin with. She didn't know that she'd be incredibly distracted while working out with her boyfriend.

He asks her if she wants to go with him about two weeks before Trevor is due back in Anaheim for the preseason. The pair go to the gym that he trains at while home in New York for the offseason. They put their things in Trevor's locker before hitting the floor.

Trevor goes through his stretches with her to make sure she doesn't hurt herself while working out with him.

"Do you want to do my training with me?" he questions. "Or do you want to go off on your own and do your own workout?"

"Show me how a hockey player trains, Trev," she tells him. "I want to see if I can do it, or at least try to keep up with you." She grins at him and Trevor shakes his head with his own smile on his face.

After stretching, they head over to treadmills. They mount their own equipment as Trevor says, "I always open a gym session with a mile. I usually alternate between running and walking the mile but with the season less than a month away, I amp it up and run the whole thing. You're welcome to try and keep up, or you can alternate like I usually do."

She nods and punches up the speed until she's jogging at a pace that is comfortable for her. Trevor's running slightly faster than she is, but she's doing this to keep up with him. He'll finish the mile before her but at least she's trying.

Two minutes separates their miles. Trevor finishes in just under ten minutes while she finishes just over eleven minutes. She managed to get up to his speed after slowly working her way up to it. They wipe down the equipment before Trevor leads her over to the bikes.

"Half a mile on the bike at my max speed," he tells her. "Helps me stay conditioned."

Trevor mounts the bike and he starts before she can get on. Her eyes land on his legs when they reach his top speed and almost falls to the floor.

The thing about dating a hockey player is they're always in great shape, but their thighs are extremely muscular. Trevor's have been insane since the day they met and she's had to resist every urge to jump his thighs so she can get off on them.

All she can think about is grinding against his thighs and using him to come.

Right now isn't helping anything either. With every movement, she notices his thighs bulge out since he's exercising them. She doesn't realize it but she starts gnawing on her bottom lip while she watches him. She doesn't move for probably five minutes.

And by that time, it's too late. She's been noticed.

"Do you not want to do the bike with me?" her boyfriend asks as he slows down. His voice is the thing that snaps her back to reality, but she can already feel how damp it is between her legs.

It's going to be a rough hour or two while they finish up their workout.

"I- um..." she trails off. "Yeah. Give me a second."

"You okay?" he questions as he completely stops. He sits back on the seat and pants since he was maxed out on the bike.

Which, again, is not helping anything.

"Mhm," she hums. "All good." The lie falls from her lips so easily despite the heat pooling between her legs. It's very distracting. Trevor is very distracting.

Labored breathing, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his face. He looks like sex right now, and she's never wanted to jump him more than she does at the moment.

Trevor squints his eyes at her and she involuntarily glances down at his resting thighs. Still muscular but not bulging like they were a few seconds ago.

When her eyes flicker back up to his, her boyfriend smirks at her. "You know," he begins to say. "I was going to do some cardio today. I think I can do some cardio at home though."

Her cheeks heat up as she gets what Trevor is trying to say without actually saying it out loud. She presses her own thighs together in an attempt to get some pressure on her core.

"Trevor, I need you to not mess with me right now," she begs. "It's so embarrassing already and you saying these things to me is not helpful at all."

He gets off the bike and glances around to see if anyone is paying attention to them, but they're tucked away in a corner so there's no one really around to begin with. Trevor traces the top of the sports bra she has on and she gnaws on her bottom lip. He tugs at the fabric gently and grins.

"I'm not messing with you," he softly tells her. "I'm genuinely suggesting we go home and do some cardio. Fuck up a sweat.” His last comment causes him to grin.

She grabs his hand and drags him back to the locker room where their things are stored in his locker. Trevor laughs as he’s pulled along behind her while she’s on her mission to get out of the gym before she gets them arrested for public indecency.

The pair very quickly grab their things from the locker before heading to Trevor’s car. She gets in the passenger seat and looks over at her boyfriend. Trevor starts the car then looks over at her. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she replies. “Just thinking about something. It isn’t important.” Her eyes drop to his thighs that poke out from his loose gym shorts. She crosses her legs to get some pressure on her core and clears her throat.

“Yeah, okay,” Trevor laughs. “That’s why you’re staring at my thighs again. I know what you want and maybe I’ll let you have it.”

She frowns as he backs out of the spot. “Maybe?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “So needy that you need my thigh to get off,” he teases. Trevor turns a corner and she frowns a little longer. “Baby, if you want to fuck my thighs then just tell me.”

“I wanna fuck your thighs,” she quickly says. “God. I’ve been wanting to fuck your thighs, Trevor.”

The car comes to a stop at a red light and he turns his head to look at her. She presses her lips in a line so she doesn’t start to take back her words. She means every single one of them because she genuinely has been wanting to and she wants Trevor to know that.

After her comment, the ride to their shared apartment is quiet. She steals an occasional glance at him every so often.

As soon as the car is in park though, they’re both off to get upstairs to their apartment. She sighs and fights every single urge to jump him in the elevator. That's the last thing she needs to do right now.

The elevator dings and the two of them walk down the hallway to the apartment. Trevor opens the door and she's quick to follow him in. She grabs his arm as soon as she crosses the threshold and pulls him back to her. She leans back against the door to shut it and pulls her boyfriend until he's pressed against her chest.

Without another second's hesitation, she cups the back of his neck and pulls him into a hot kiss. Trevor's hands fly to her waist to hold both of them steady. She puts both her hands in his hair holds and holds him close.

Trevor leans down and wraps his arms around her waist. He picks her up and walks them both over to the couch. He sits down and she immediately straddles one of his thighs. Just to get some pressure on her core, she begins to grind against his thigh. Even through her gym shorts, she can feel his muscles against her core. She hums into the kiss that follows.

Her hands slide down his chest and rest on his torso after slithering up under the fabric of his t-shirt to rest on his skin.

"Take these off," Trevor tells her between kiss. He pulls at her skin tight shorts that she wore to the gym. "Want you to make a mess on my thigh."

She stands up between his knees, breaking the kiss in the process. Not only does she take off the shorts and the ruined panties beneath them, she completely undresses herself. Trevor grins and lifts his butt off the couch so he can pull off his loose gym shorts and boxers. She crawls back onto his lap and pushes Trevor's shirt over his head.

If she's going to be naked, then so is he.

Their lips meet in another heated kiss. Her hands cup his jaw at the same time she starts rolling her hips. The initial pressure is too much at first for her already sensitive core that she falters for a second. She picks up speed and is able to find a pace that's comfortable for her.

Trevor takes advantage of her slightly open mouth and licks into it. She hums against his lips and parts hers even more for him. His hands slide around to the small of her back. His fingers press into the dimples on her back and she smiles.

She wraps a hand around his dick, which stands straight up against his stomach. Slowly, she begins to jerk her hand up and down. Trevor hums into the kiss that follows.

When she speeds up her movements, she speeds up her hand. Soft hums pass Trevor's lips and she swallows each sound. Her core grows more and more sensitive with every roll of her hips.

The first thought of doing this passed through her mind was about two years ago when they first met. She was a 20-year-old who had just moved to SoCal to intern with the Ducks organization. He was a 21-year-old hockey sensation with his Michigan goals and shootout talent in the midst of his sophomore season in Anaheim. She made a wrong turn and ended up in the gym, where Trevor was the only one working out. Luckily, he didn't turn out to be an asshole and showed her where she was actually supposed to go.

Except, she couldn't stop thinking about his thighs after that moment in the gym. Even two years later. Which is why she doesn't know why she decided to go to the gym with him. She knew she would be distracted and wouldn't be able to finish the work out at the end of the day.

That's how they ended up here. Naked and one of his thighs between her legs. Hopefully it's not the last time she's able to do this because it feels so good. Though, she may not survive right now.

Skin on skin feels better than a barrier of clothing ever would. She feels every muscle rub against her clit.

"God, Trevor," she hums into the next kiss. "Feels so good."

“Get off on my thigh, pretty girl,” Trevor rasps against her lips. “Make a mess. Use me to get what you want.”

She rests her free hand on his waist. Her occupied hand begins to falter as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm. Precome that has leaked from the tip makes it easier to move her hand. Soft noises continue to pass h both their lips as they chase their orgasms.

Hers comes up suddenly. Her movements get faster and rougher as she climaxes. Her soft noises turn into borderline pornographic moans as the knot that formed in her stomach comes undone. She throws her head back and her vision whitens. His name falls from her lips so loud she’s afraid that their neighbors may have heard.

And she doesn’t even care because she had what’s a top five orgasm she’s ever had. All because of Trevor’s thighs.

What’s the saying? Save a horse, ride a hockey player’s thighs? Something like that. At least, that what she thinks in her post-orgasmic bliss.

At some point while she was out of it, Trevor had moved her so she’s laying on her back on the couch. He cleans them both up with a cloth that he definitely got from the kitchen instead of the bathroom.

She glances at his thighs and sees one shinier than the other and bites her lip. Trevor notices and smiles. “You just can’t stop looking, can you?” he teases.

“You’re hot with my mess all over your thigh, Z,” she replies. Trevor looks down and shakes his head. “Also, if I ask to go to the gym with you again, tell me no. As much as I loved that, it was embarrassing to have that kind of moment in the gym.”

Trevor throws the cloth somewhere and crawls onto the couch. She curls up around him and he pulls a blanket over the two of them.

“Next time, tell me that you want to ride my thigh and I’ll let you,” he tells her. “Because it was sexy that you got off on my thigh alone.”

“I saved some horses,” she giggles as sleep overcomes her body. Trevor laughs when he gets the reference.

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MAIN HOCKEY

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[phfenomena]

❝sleeping alone ❞ || william h. bonney x f!reader

| A/N- was listening to flatland cavalry and i couldn’t resist a short n sad fic abt billy bc i’m evil

| WARNINGS- a sad man who misses his girlfriend a verrrryyy small mention of death and war.

william h. bonney x reader angst? fluff?

as billy lays alone in the hostel bed he quickly begins to regret agreeing to jesse’s proposal of this job in lincoln county. he’s almost a days ride away from you and he has no idea if you’re okay. he can’t believe he used to sleep like this every night, no one to hold.

his mind wanders to the prayers his mother used to lay over him and joe, before everything turned sour in his life. he can’t remember the last time he prayed, feeling like no one’s listening. he doesn’t need a god when he has you, but he doesn’t have you right now.

he clasps his hands together just like he did all those years ago. “i haven’t done in this in quite some time, sorry if it’s not uniform prayer. i just want my girl to be okay without me, and for her to healthy and safe. oh! and for me not to get shot. amen.” he suddenly feels very stupid and confused as to why he thought his words into the empty air would assist him at all, but anything’s worth a shot. especially when it comes to his girl.

he rolls onto his side, just like he does every night with you. he holds a pillow to front pretending it was you instead a bag of feathers. he never realized how warm you were until he couldn’t feel your warmth at all. his eyes drift close and he falls asleep to memories of you.

eight hours away by horse, you lay alone in your shared bed with billy. only it’s not shared for a while, it’s just your bed. he’s working, he loves working! you thought trying to make yourself feel better about being by your lonesome. the bed feels like it’s miles long with just your body inhabiting it. you stare at the stationary sitting on your desk, illuminated poorly with one candle.

you write slowly and methodically to billy. he won’t be home for months so you figured you’d might as well start the letters. you write paragraphs upon paragraphs of how much you miss him, how much you love him, and how quiet the night is without his laughs filling the air. you trail off and start telling him about the town gossip you’ve heard but eventually get back on track. spraying your perfume over the pages and an invisible kiss by your signature, you fold it up and press the wax to seal it.

billy and jesse walk back in the saloon below the hostel’s doors. “oh! mr. billy you’ve got a letter! from a lady” the young boy wiggles his eyebrows and hands the letter to billy. he tries to fight the smile but jesse pats his back, rather hard but a kind gesture nonetheless. “the girl of yours is already sending letters after a day? you’ve got her wrapped around her finger.” billy shakes his head laughing. “that’s where you’re wrong, it’s the complete opposite.” he confesses and walks up the stairs to read your letter in private.

he instantly notices the scent of your perfume and all of the tension in his body melts away. he’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s reading but holds your letter to his chest after. he walks over to his own desk and begins his own letter to you, he might not see you for months but he’ll be damned if he can’t talk to his girl.

he consistently writes to you and letting you know what’s going on and how stressful things have gotten. you’re proud of him for switching to tunstall’s side because it was the right thing to do, you’ll always admire that about him. the worry for his well-being overtakes the admiration as you quickly gather your necessities and get dressed. you’re out the door and mounting your horse within the hour, riding to lincoln. you’d rather walk to hell and back than not see billy before he gets hurt.

you reach lincoln county much faster than you expected, maybe your horse sensed the desperation leaking from your pores. you ask a kind-eyed woman about tunstall and she directs you a few minutes north. you thank her make your way slowly to your destination. as your eyes focus on the beautiful country home in the dark, your heart flutters. you almost feel sick with how anxious you are, your eyes haven’t laid on billy in three months.

you quickly tie your horse to a fence post and rush towards the door, knocking rapidly. an unfamiliar man opens the door and smiles at you. “how can i help you, madam?” he speaks confidently with a british accent, this must be tunstall. “oh well, um, i was just wondering if billy was here?” he snaps his fingers and turns his head to yell for billy.

billy’s stomach dropped upon hearing his name being called, he’s thinking it might be jesse trying to pick a fight but when his eyes settle upon you his world stops. everything slows down but his heart speeds up to impossible levels. he smiles wide and laughs while running to you. his arms envelope you and you’re drowning in his scent, squeezing so hard he thought you might’ve bruised a rib. “what’re you doin’ here, doll? did you ride here alone? do you know how dangerous that is? have you ate? are you okay?” you giggle at his ambush of worried questions and put your hand over his mouth. tunstall walks away with a grin, never seeing billy so happy.

“yes i rode alone, yes i know the dangers, no i haven’t ate yet, and yes i am okay. i just couldn’t take the thought of you being so stressed with the possibility of getting hurt without me here. i also figured it was due time for a visit.” you mutter softly, never taking your eyes off him. drinking in the sights of the man you love with every fiber of your being.

he quickly ushers you inside and guides you to a main room. “gentleman, this is my girl.” he introduces you and you smile and manage a slight wave. “this the girl you’re always talking about and never shutting up about how pretty she is?” billy goes slightly red and opens his mouth up to talk before closing it. just nodding at the embarrassment. you smile up at him “you tell people how pretty you think i am? you’re so sweet! that’s adorable.” billy sighs and leads you to a seat at the table and fixing you a plate for dinner.

as you both lay together that night in the same bed, everything makes sense in the world. you understand war, they just want this feeling to be safe. your eyes begin to fill with tears as you’re just so relieved and happy to be with your love again.

“i was gettin’ real tired of sleeping alone. considered climbing into bed with charlie but i don’t think he’s as warm as you.” you laugh and gently slap his chest.

all is right in the world, because your world is filled with love.

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse- A Mother

Part 2

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

How ironic it was to be back at home emptying out the lunchbox that had started it all. Feeling petty that you were angry like it had forgotten its own self on the counter. Taking out the sandwich you had made the night prior and throwing it away. Turkey, cheese, and miracle whip. Abel's favorite. Starting all over, your mind trying to find work as a distraction from the entire day’s events. Lunchbox packed and, in the fridge, note on the door so not to forget it in the start of the chain tomorrow. Work finished.

And then the fleeting thought made its way back to you. Engaged. You were engaged. Something you thought would never happen because you have never had time to consider it, let alone dating.

John had passed you his phone number scribbled on a piece of paper. How very old school of him, you thought to yourself accepting it before placing it in your apron pocket mixed in with your tips. It was now back in your fingertips, passing it around to look at it closer. The man had handwriting of a serial killer... Could you be marrying a serial killer?

Shaking your head, riding yourself of such a thought. No, John was not a serial killer.... least not the kind that stalked its prey and killed the next victim- you told yourself, typing what you thought was the phone number into your phone Never really knowing much about him, you could tell he was at least military, but what exactly?

John? the text you sent to the number hoping you had read it right.

Yes? was the single worded answer. Sighing with relief, you were glad it was him, not ready to keep taking the chance of a random stranger.

I could barely read your writing.

Been told it's bad before. And then a time or two after that. He responded back and you can hear the slight chuckle in his voice.

Get the boy in bed? He messaged right after.

Yes, he's sleeping now. Just got his lunch packed.

Good, you should be in bed too. Oh my god, you thought to yourself now worried he was thinking of you in bed. Glancing at the time, after your nightly routine was done you saw the clock on the wall read almost 11:30. He was probably just being practical.

Heading there now, thank you.

For what?

Everything.

Get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.

Yeah, like you were going to sleep after everything that had happened today. Giving it an attempt, you crawl under the covers after starting the washer to try to get a jump start of the home work load. Closing your eyes, making the room dark, you pretended if anything to get sleep.

***************************

"Abel!" You shouted, pulling the clothes out of the dryer you had moved during your insomnia caused by your worry battle. "Time to get a move on." Grabbing a warm towel, you hung it on the hook outside of the shower.

"We're going to be late." You said still trying to usher him. Watching his little hand slip out past the shower curtain, feeling for the warm towel.

"Thanks momma," he said muffled through the towel.

It wasn't shortly after he found you fully clothed with his bookbag and the condemned lunchbox in your hand by the front door. Slipping on his shoes he took the bag, slipping it over his shoulders, standing up shouting he was ready.

Locking the door behind you, he sprinted down to the sidewalk ready for you. Grin beaming almost as bright as the morning sun.

"Will that man come see you again today?" he asked as you walked next to him.

Struggling to find the courage to answer him, you realized he was paying more attention than you had thought. "He is."

"Will he be there when I get there?"

"Probably, and I think we will be seeing more of him overall."

"Why?"

"Well... him and I are going to get married."

"Married!? Like a mom and a dad together?"

"Yes, but he is not your dad. Your dad will always be your dad."

Abel looked down kicking a rock.

"I wish he was better to you, momma." And your heart fractured at the statement. Your hand found his chin, tilting it up so he looks at you.

"I wish he was too," your voice quietly fighting the tears that stung your eyes, "but take it as a lesson Abel. If you ever find love, be sure to treat them better then what you have been shown."

Abel gave a single nod, understanding the weight of your statement. He has always been a kid that is easy to talk to.

Going your separate ways, he gave your middle a squeeze, head buried in your abdomen before saying goodbye. Leaving you alone to finish your walk on your way to work.

***************************

Coffee pots are already brewing, turning on the grill top and fryer for your cook. You were ready to roll.

Morning shift went quick, the restaurant running like a well-oiled machine from your efforts. No phone calls from the school today, further easing your confidence that everything was going to be alright. Abel with his dad like the custody agreement states while you're at work. That feeling of confidence quickly left you though, as Abel's homeroom teacher walked in. Mrs. Karim. Eyes locking with her, you meant her almost at the front door.

"Everything ok?" You asked familiar enough with her to know she wouldn't have been here for nothing.

"Relax," she said with a warm laugh. "Not everything that happens has to be bad." She teased placing a hand on your shoulder making you take a deep breath in. "I came to bring you something," she said handing you a student made project. It was a heart with 2 paper doors that you could open.

"We made these for Mother's Day, and I really wanted you to see what your son wrote."

Each individual line was something Abel had written about you. A scribble that you could decipher with ease, seeing it change and grow as he got older.

I love my mother because:

She makes sure I have food every day.

She makes sure I have a warm towel after every shower.

She walks me to school every morning.

She hugs and tells me she loves me every day.

She tucks me into bed every night.

Instantly the tears are hot on your face and grinning like the Cheshire cat. How much you loved that boy.

"Thank you," you said wiping your tears off with your hand.

"Figured you needed it," she said patting your shoulder again letting on she knew more then what you thought, but not pestering further. "You're a good mom." Making you nod as she left, continuing about her time off.

Turning around, you saw Kate standing leaning against the counter.

"Can we get one day in without you crying?" she teased.

"Fuck off," you chortled. Stepping past her, you saw John sitting at the said counter. He must of snuck in.

"You, ok?" he asked, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.

"Yeah," you said sliding the heart to him to look at. "Look, his handwriting looks like yours." You teased implying he had the handwriting of an 8-year-old.

Taking it in his hands he opened the doors of the heart, smiling as he read it too. "Maybe you could give me lessons then." Eyes drifting up to yours as your heartbeat faster, rattling your ribs. They look so blue even through his long brown lashes. A simple “ha-ha” left your mouth unable to find anything else back to say to flirt with him.

"Well, hopefully I can give you something else that makes your day," he said sliding a little black box towards you on the counter. You felt almost dirty accepting it, knowing what was on the inside but still did it anyway. Opening it and looking down, before handing it back to John, unsure of where to go from there.

It was a simple pearl on a gold band. "Was my mother's." He said taking it out of the box, hand extended out for yours. Handing him your left hand, you let him slip it on the ring finger. "Figure if this happening, will make it official." Rendered speechless, you searched to find anything to say.

"What was she like?"

"My mother?"

"Yeah."

"A good mother. Lot like you." He said his answer was plain and simple. His thumb stroking over the back of your hand, back and forth over the ring.

It was like you were made of butterflies and birds. The fluttering beneath your skin, in your chest and stomach, rising and lowering. Were you floating right now? Breaking eye contact, you looked down at your feet grounding yourself. Kate is coming up and giving you a light shoulder check.

"Hate to interrupt your love bird’s moment, but the dinner rush is starting."

"Right," you said fingers squeezing John's hand before getting started. Placing an order for his regular, planning to at least feed him for everything he has done, you got to work taking your tables.

As skilled as you were, you had fumbled a few orders. Forgetting things, not filling drinks right away. But the heavy ring on your finger throws off your game. You would stare at it next to the pen and pad as you would take the order. As simple as it was, it was so beautiful. The glimmer catching your eye every now and then as if you were a bird. Something unfamiliar in the familiar. The lack of tips showed for it. Yes, you were floating because you were riding cloud 9.

Streetlights were starting to come on outside, signaling it was now getting close to closing time. Restaurant now empty, John the only "customer" inside. The door jingling open caught your attention as you saw Abel slip in, heading straight for you. Kneeling you hugged him squeezing him tighter than he was you making him laugh.

"What the fuck is that??" Your ex's voice fills your ears covering the laughter. Glancing up you were shocked to see him in your place of work. Generally, he steered clear, letting you at least have home and work to yourself. But after yesterday he apparently wanted to keep whatever his problem was going.

"What are you talking about?" You asked standing up, slipping Abel behind you, and pushing him lightly to the counter. Thankfully Kate was already waiting for him, hands outstretched with fingers waggling to get him away from verbal altercation.

"On your finger." He said pointing before reaching and snatching for your left hand. Pulling it away from him, you cradled it to your chest. The ring pressed as far inwardly as you could get it.

"Hands off her," John said arm in front of you slowly pushing you behind him like you had just done with Abel. Your right hand rested on his waist, letting him know you were still there with him.

"You can't be serious," your ex said over John's shoulder trying to talk to you.

"The way you treat her ends now. You will no longer be speaking to my soon-to-be wife that way. You'll get your time in court." John said taking a step closer, almost chest to chest.

The door jingled again, and you noticed the three that followed John around standing behind your ex. They crowded him, keeping the situation under control, but willing to turn violent if the time came.

"Why don' ya step outside mate, and have a littl' chat with us?" The biggest one wearing all black said, gripping your ex's shoulder and pulling him out the door.

John followed making you call out to him, "John," your voice warned. "He's still the father to my child."

"Not gonna’ hurt him love, just gonna’ lay down some rules," he said pushing the door open with his back, following his other war dogs outside. He rounded the corner out of your sight.

"You have my heart," Abel said pulling his classroom project to him, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"I always got your heart," you said leaning down kissing his head. "Start your homework while I clean and close up," you said roughing up his hair.

"Ugh...." he groaned, but doing as you said opening his bookbag.

After what felt like an eternity, you watched John come back in the other 3 following in behind him and sitting down at the counter.

"Can I feed them at least?" You asked referring to what they had just done.

"You don' feed the strays," he teased looking down the counter at them. "They ain't staying long anyways. Just enough to lock up and me to walk you home."

"You're walking me home?"

" 'Course I am, my ring your wearing wife to be." he bantered back to you making you go red. Using the excuse to have to go back into the kitchen and fill the mop bucket to hide it. Was useless, hearing the others snicker at your embarrassment.

Previous

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***************************

Taglist:

@cutiecusp

@lhhlver

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden. Pt3

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Jaime Lannister: SMUT threesome, voyerism, praise kink, oral (Male receiving) )

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

After the event with the mare, the queen saw fit that you would be given basic riding lessons.

"Right, now just do exactly as he says" Cersei emphasized. "No second guessing or backtalk. Treat him as you would me."

"Of course, Your Grace" You were wrapped in a thin wool cloak and worn leather boots, bracing against the chill of the coming autumn. The summer had to end sometime, you supposed.

"My brother is being very generous, offering to teach you." Cersei reminded you.

"I am very grateful for the help" You kept your eyes trained ahead, not wanted to see presumptuous by looking at the queen too much or talking too much.

It was bizarre, two high-borns taking such an interest in someone like you. It made you uneasy, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I certainly don't to embarrass myself more than I already have."

Jaime was waiting for you by the stables, dressed in sturdy riding leather. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes and was brushed back with a gloved hand before he spotted your approach and smiled charmingly.

"Sweet sister" he greeted Cersei before resting his pale green eyes on you "And your new plaything."

"Now Jaime" Cersei chided him, "Be nice, Y/N isn't used to your teasing like I am."

"She will be" Jaime smirked at you, watching the blush creep up your neck and across your face. "Come, let's get started."

"I'll be waiting with the party, my dear." Cersei touched your shoulder, quickening your pulse as you whipped around.

"Your Grace, you're leaving?"

"Rest assured, you are in good hands" The queen insisted, flashing you a cryptic smile. "Good luck"

"Charming, isn't she?" Jaime came from behind you, watching as his sister left you to your own devices. "Come now, the faster we start, the faster you can stop being bullied by Clegane and that rabid stallion of his."

Eager to stand (er, ride) on your own two feet, you followed him before realizing there was only one horse readied.

"Uh, Ser?"

"You didn't think I'd jump to letting you ride on your own that quickly, did you?" Jaime practically laughed in your face. "Here, you first."

"I..." you gawked at the saddle the horse was set with. "You mean riding astride?"

"Something wrong with it?"

You thought for a moment before embracing your mistress's request to trust the knight.

"No, not at all"

He hoisted you up onto the back of his sturdy mount before swinging his legs up behind you. You swallowed a gasp, suddenly finding yourself pressed between the pommel of the saddle and Ser Jaime's chest.

"Let's get into some open terrain so you have space to learn"

Before you could protest, the knight had set the beast off at a quick gallop, one hand gripping the reigns and the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you from falling off.

Once you were well away from the party and in a broad scope of field, Jaime stopped the horse.

"Now," He handed you the reigns and without preamble place two solid hands on your shoulders. "The first thing to know about proper horse riding is your posture. You want to guide the beast properly? You have to sit it properly."

He gently guided your shoulder back, straightening your spine in the process.

"Now there's a saying my riding master taught me as a boy. And while it may seem forward, I need you to trust me."

Your skin prickled at the near constant contact between your bodies but tried to push it down and focus on the lesson. "Her Grace insisted you were the best. You have my full trust, Ser."

"Good Girl" Jaime praised in a tone that almost melted into a purr. "Now the first thing you want to remember about riding a horse is; Shoulders like a Soldier..."His hands slid from your shoulders, down your arms, before coming to rest on your hips. "and Hips like a Whore."

"Ser!" You gasped but Jaime tutted you into submission.

"I warned you it was forward, but just trust me." He soothed, "Now I am going to drive the horse forward slowly, and I want you to just-" His grip on your hips tightened "Follow the motion."

The beast began to move forward at a gentle walk and as the they went; Jaime's hands slowly guided your hips to match the motion of the horse's gait.

"A little faster?" He asked and you nodded, growing in confidence.

The walk turned to a trot, and the trot to a brisk cantor, and finally to a full gallop which left you breathless, clinging to the horse with your thighs as if you might fall off at any moment.

"Very good" Jaime practically cooed in your ear, slowing the beast back down to a peaceful trop. "You are everything my sister promised."

You beamed at that, proud to have lived up to your mistress's praises.

As your breath returned to you, you began to notice something different. Something that hadn't been there when you started your ride.

A hardness pressed against your ass, brushing up against you with the motion of the beast below you.

"S-ser Jaime." You swallowed. "We should go-"

"Go back, so soon?" Jaime crooned, pulling you closer to him in the saddle and bringing the horse back to a quick trot. "It's a lovely day, we should take advantage of it"

The hardness grew, and you tried not to notice until you felt it twitch slightly and Jaime muffled a moan in his throat.

"I don't think Her Grace would-"

"Would what?" Jaime grinned knowingly at your confused tone. "Sweetling, why do you think she left you out here all alone with me?"

"Because she trusts you, you're her brother."

"Hm" Jaime's hands massaged your hips slowly, running over your soft thighs and even venturing around to the front to cup your sex through your skirt.

You gasped at the sudden touch, pulse pounding as his two fingers skillfully located your slit and began to rub gently through the fabric of your dress.

"Ser" You breathed, trying to organize your thoughts as Jaime pulled your hips back to him, your back flush against his chest, rubbing slow circles through your skirt with the tips of his fingers.

"Just relax, sweetling" He breathed into your ear, "If you get too excited, the horse will sense it. Then we're both in trouble."

"We shouldn't..."

"I don't see you stopping me." He pointed out, hips continuing to brush the length of his cock against your ass. "All I feel is your body heating up against mine. Are you getting excited?"

"Oh Gods." Without thinking, you scrambled off the horse, falling onto your back as you did so.

Jaime laughed out loud, dismounting skillfully and grabbing you by the ankle before you could run for camp.

"Easy, easy girl" He chuckled, batting off you attempts to kick him like they were nothing. "Just calm down."

"The Queen will know." You gasped, heart suddenly pounding. "Her Grace, she trusted me, she's done so much for me, and now I'm here with you and she'll be so angry."

Hot tears began to stream down your face as you began to panic. Jaime paled, not expecting this to go this badly as he attempted to shush your sobs.

"No, no, no, Darling. Just listen, just listen" He tried to grab your attention. "Look, we'll go back to camp. We'll see my sister. Everything will be okay; I swear to you."

Not quite believing him and half convinced your mistress would abandon you here in the wilderness as soon as she heard, you wiped your tears and nodded.

Jaime gathered you in his arms and guided you back to the horse and ferried you both back to the party. He did his best to hide your distress from everyone else as you approached the queen's royal caravan.

"Enter." Cersei turned eagerly as her brother entered, giddy to see how her plan unfolded before her face fell. "What happened?"

Jaime opened his mouth to explain but before he could, you fell to your knees and bowed lowly.

"Your Grace," You sobbed into the ground. "I'm so sorry, I have failed you and betrayed you. I am not worthy of your mercy, but I beg for it all the same."

"I-" Cersei starred at Jaime who shook his head, shrugging in a helpless fashion. "Jaime, what did you do?"

"Exactly what you told me to do, I swear." Jaime insisted,

"Oh" Cersei's mind clicked with understanding and an amused smile crept across her face. "Oh, Y/N. You stupid little thing. Get up."

You obeyed, wiping your tears as the Queen knelt down to look at you.

"Y/N, I sent you out with Jaime *hoping* he would seduce you."

"What?"

"Yes, sweetling." She laughed, "You've been so good for me these last few weeks, and I wanted to reward you. You foolish girl, look at you worked up over nothing. Don't you feel ridiculous?"

You did, ridiculous and embarrassed and ashamed.

"Ser Jaime, I owe you an apology." You couldn't meet his eye, "Her Grace told me to trust you and instead I took you for a villain. Please forgive me?"

"I suppose I can." The knight nodded. "Though you did leave me in quite the uncomfortable position."

"Oh" a blush flooded your face again. "I'm sorry."

"Sweetling" Cersei placed a hand on the top of your head, "You aren't thinking of denying my reward for you, are you?"

"I-" The words caught in your throated. "Your Grace, I-. But-"

"Jaime, come here." Cersei beckoned her brother closer, leaning in to whisper in your ear, "You haven't quite earned the privilege of my bed yet. Treat Ser Jaime as you would me."

Your instructions were clear, and if it pleased your mistress, you were more than happy to comply.

Cersei's nimble hands reached forward to undo the laces of Jaime's trousers, pushing you forward to do the rest as she returned to the chaise with an eager gleam in her eye.

"Have you ever bedded a man before?" Jaime asked and you nodded. It had only been once, but you remembered how everything worked.

Peeling through layers of fabric, you freed the knight's semi-hard cock from his small clothes and scooted closer to him on your knees. A deep rumble of a groan filled the caravan as you took the tip in your mouth, sucking gently before taking more and more length down your throat. Before long, the tip of your nose was buried in the patch of fine blond hair at the base.

"Gods" Jaime breathed, a hand reaching down to grasp at your hair. "Gently, darling gent-" His words caught in his throat as you drew your tongue up the length of him before swiftly taking it whole, gagging slightly to accommodate it. The taste of salty pre-cum coated your taste buds and you hummed with satisfaction.

"That's enough."

You paused your ministrations when your mistress cut in sharply.

"Jaime," she crooned lowly, "Don't be greedy."

Jaime sighed, his brow already shining with perspiration as he withdrew his cock from your throat, a thin strand of saliva hanging from your lips as you gazed up at him.

"The queen is right, sweetling." He sighed, guiding you up by the tip of your chin. "This is supposed to be your reward, not mine."

Eagerly, you allowed him to unlace your bodice and aided him in removing your skirt and small clothes.

"Excited little thing, aren't you?" He chuckled, pulling you in for a deep kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips pleadingly until you parted them, making sure to explore his mouth as much as he did yours. He growled at this, unaccustomed to not being the dominant one, but you responded by sharply nipping his lower lip and grinning. He pulled away with a challenged look, as if calculating his next move.

"Come here" He spat, spinning you around and pulling your back flush against his chest, one hand snaked to your throat as the other danced across your chest. His calloused fingers grazed over your nipples, which responded eagerly as he palmed the softness of your breasts.

"Look" He breathed in your ear, rubbing his hips against your ass as he had in the field. "If you'd been a good girl, we'd have had privacy. Now look at you, about to be fucked in front of your queen."

You moaned at this, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes as he chuckled against your shoulder.

"Or maybe you like this better? Tell me, how long has it been since you've been properly fucked, hm? Years, perhaps?" His hand wondered between your legs once more, locating the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew drove women wild.

"That's right sweet girl," He breathed, firmly pressing his fingers against your clit. Your body tensed and your hips didn't know if they should chase the pleasure of his fingers or flee the intensity of the electricity building between your legs. "Now now, you stay right there."

One hand tweaking your hard nipples and the other pressing your ass against the knight's cock as it circled your clit, you knew you wouldn't last long like this. Your thighs trembled and tried to tighten around his hand, which only made him tease you more.

"Look at this sister, only a few minutes and her body is begging for release. Is that what you want, sweetling? To cum in front of your mistress?"

"Gods, yes! Please, please, please." You begged, skin slick with sweat.

"What a sweet girl, begging so nicely for us." Jaime cooed, sucking on the crook of your neck with a humming laugh. "What do you think, sister?"

You looked up and saw your mistress's face alight with excitement, her own thighs squeezing together as she watched the show her brother put on for her.

"I think....not"

You whined when Jaime all at once withdrew his touch from your body.

"Take her to the bed. I want to watch her cum around you." Cersei requested and Jaime gladly obliged.

"Tell me, sweet sister," Jaime hummed, watching Cersei leave her chaise to meet him at the bed where he deposited your aching, desperate body. "How would you like your little slave fucked?"

"Bend her over" Cersei demanded without hesitation, cupping your face almost gently as Jaime flipped you on your stomach. "I want to watch your face when he fucks you."

Her words drove another spike of need between your legs as Jaime spread your thighs and thrust into your dripping cunt without preamble. The sudden intrusion made you instantly clench around him and claw at the bedding desperately as he drove into you over and over.

"Look at me." Cersei cooed, watching your eyes dart rapidly trying to find her, "Gods, you look so pretty like this. How does he feel inside of you? What I would give to fuck you like this." Her hands petted your hair, damp and clinging to your neck and forehead with sweat. When she spoke to you like this, it was like the whole world melted away and became an extension of her. Even Jaime, especially Jaime, was just an extension of her and her will. She was the one who was fucking you right now, and it was her who made the muscles in your core snap as waves of pleasure washed over you.

When your body began to spasm under him, Jaime could only hold back long enough to pull out as quickly as he possibly could, coating your ass and back with ropes of cum. His weight collapsed on top of you for a moment, both of you breathing heavy. Both of you feeling like you'd been fucked by someone who hadn't even touched you.

Cersei rose up off the bed and tossed a rag at Jaime before leaning over you again, peppering soft kisses over your still sensitive skin.

"Good girl, sweet girl, how wonderful you've been for me." she purred.

[fountainpenguin]

Tango POV Session 3 highlights (My first POV this session, jumping in with no spoilers)-

Skizz: "I want a giant blinking heart in the sky" Tango: "Cool idea :) You're doing the redstone, right?" Skizz: ... Tango: "YOU'RE doing the redstone for that, right?"

Skizz: "While editing I was like... 'Am I a loser?' Tango: "No, no, no! It was well before editing that I realized that."

I do love the server dynamics that give us gems like Mumbo sprinting across the ground yelling about how he has a quick, urgent thing he needs to do... Just an average day in the death game.

slkdjf Tango and Skizz finally found someone just as desperate and needy as them... Enter the man who has been shunned for 3 seasons because of his boogeyman kill. We love a BigB!!

BigB: "Skizz, this might be time to point out my weak building skills-" Skizzleman: "Oh no, don't worry. That's why we've got ourselves a Tango!" Tango: /incoherent shrieking and denials

Tango assigned homemaker by the narrative.

So just to be clear, we've got Tango "I will teach you redstone and cheer you on" (Mansplain), we've got BigB "There is no hole in the mesa" (Manipulate), and Skizz "I built the base" (Malewife). Good for them.

Skizz: "At my IRL job when I had to create blinking lights, I literally had someone go back to the breaker and flip it."

Tango, to Cleo: "That's all we are! Cringe 'R' Us!"

sdlkfj Tango hugging and comforting Torchy over how scary Etho's water bucket attack was. "If he comes back, I will take care of this."

BigB: "I have an anvil." Tango and Skizz losing their minds: "BEST TEAMMATE EVER!"

Heart Foundation: "We will join forces and gift our hearts to a randomly selected person. Everyone will like and protect us; we are creating our own plot armor." Etho, immediately after receiving his hearts: "I am a huge fan. Sign me up. Whatever I need to do to stay on. I will let you use the enchanting table. I would be dead if it were not for the Heart Foundation."

Gem and Scott riding up on their zombie and skeleton horses would be SO terrifying. Can't wait to see the fanart of that sdfklj

Tango killed it this session, he did not cut corners in babbling to Torchy.

Gem: "I think your task is to remove light sources from the server." Tango: "That would be very incorrect." Tango as he sprints away, muttering to Torchy: "I know?? They were standing right by us and they didn't even notice??"

Torchy has such boogeyman tendencies, geez. Is this Leven Thumps; did we confine the spirit of the boogeyman to a piece of wood??

Tango, raiding someone's base: "You want to? We could."

I enjoy the new rule about Yellows having one chance to call people out on their task. I think this is a good move to up the tension and also encourage people to do it because you only get one shot per episode. Don't wanna waste it!

slkdjf @ Tango chatting with Etho, Etho susses out his task, so Tango immediately runs to Grian to confirm the rules. Grian tells him no problem, Etho's green so he's in the clear. Tango runs off crowing in laughter.

Lizzie: "I've heard some weird things about you." Tango: "We are excellent today." Lizzie: "That's the weird stuff I've been hearing."

?? Is Tango's official canon that redstone exposure turned his eyes red? Neat.

lksdjf Skizz seething about Impulse.

Tango: "What did he do?" Skizz: "His task was to find somebody who's got greater than 25 hearts and find a way to - air quotes - "accidentally" get them to lose 5 hearts. So he made sure I lost 20."

Yeah, that tracks.

Freaking goodness, Tango put his entire heart and soul into this invisible friend task.

Bdubs' globe is looking amazing <3

?? Etho running up to Joel and saying "I love you?" What is the context; looking forward to figuring that out.

Etho: "I love you." Joel: "Okay, I know you're obsessed with me, I saw you made me your thumbnail of your first episode, but come on..."

Called out at the end!!! Devastating!!!

That is the end, but what a great session. So much death...

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 1 EPISODE 10 || BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

The realization of Jamie’s imminent departure was deeply depressing; I suddenly realized just how much I looked forward to seeing him at dinner after the day’s work, how my heart would leap when I saw him unexpectedly at odd moments during the day, and how much I depended on his company and his solid, reassuring presence amid the complexities of life in the castle. And, to be perfectly honest, how much I liked the smooth, warm strength of him in my bed each night, and waking to his tousled, smiling kisses in the mornings. The prospect of his absence was bleak. He held me closely, my head snuggled under his chin. “I’ll miss you, Jamie,” I said softly. He hugged me tighter, and gave a rueful chuckle. “So will I, Sassenach. I hadna expected it, to tell the truth—but it will hurt me to leave ye.” He stroked my back gently, fingers tracing the bumps of the vertebrae.

“Jamie … you’ll be careful?”

I could feel the deep rumble of amusement in his chest as he answered. “Of the Duke or the horse?” He was, much to my apprehension, intending to ride Donas on the stag hunt. I had visions of the huge sorrel beast plunging over a cliff out of sheer wrong-headedness, or trampling Jamie under those lethal hooves. “Both,” I said dryly. “If the horse throws you and you break a leg, you’ll be at the Duke’s mercy.” “True. Dougal will be there, though.” I snorted. “He’ll break the other leg.” He laughed and bent his head to kiss me.

“I’ll be careful, mo duinne. Will ye give me the same promise?” “Yes,” I said, meaning it. “Do you mean whoever left the ill-wish?” The momentary amusement was gone now.

Perhaps. I dinna think you’re in any danger, or I wouldna leave ye. But still … oh, and stay away from Geillis Duncan.” “What? Why?” I drew back a little to look up at him. It was a dark night and his face was invisible, but his tone was altogether serious. “The woman’s known as a witch, and the stories about her—well, they’ve got a deal worse since her husband died. I dinna want ye anywhere near her, Sassenach.” “Do you honestly think she’s a witch?” I demanded. His strong hands cupped my bottom and scooped me in close to him. I put my arms around him, enjoying the feel of his smooth, solid torso. “No,” he said finally. “But it isna what I think that could be a danger to ye. Will ye promise?”

“All right.” In truth, I had little reluctance to give the promise; since the incidents of the changeling and the summoning, I had not felt much desire to visit Geilie. I put my mouth on Jamie’s nipple, flicking it lightly with my tongue. He made a small sound deep in his throat and pulled me nearer. “Open your legs,” he whispered. “I mean to be sure you’ll remember me while I’m gone.” Sometime later, I woke feeling cold. Groping sleepily for the quilt, I couldn’t find it. Suddenly it came up over me of its own accord. Surprised, I raised up on one elbow to look. “I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “I didna mean to wake ye, lass.” “What are you doing? Why are you awake?” I squinted over my shoulder at him. It was still dark, but my eyes were so accustomed that I could see the faintly sheepish expression on his face. He was wide awake, sitting on a stool by the side of the bed, his plaid flung around him for warmth.

“It’s only … well, I dreamed you were lost, and I couldna find ye. It woke me, and … I wanted to look at ye, is all. To fix ye in my mind, to remember while I’m gone. I turned back the quilt; I’m sorry you were chilled.”

“It’s all right.” The night was cold, and very quiet, as though we were the only two souls in the world. “Come into bed. You must be chilled too.” He slid in next to me and curled himself against my back. His hands stroked me from neck to shoulder,waist to hip, tracing the lines of my back, the curves of my body.

“Mo duinne,” he said softly. “But now I should say mo airgeadach. My silver one. Your hair is silver-gilt and your skin is white velvet. Calman geal. White dove.”

Cap 24 ~OUTLANDER

[linmeiwei]

Do you really think Darcy and Elizabeth would be happy together? It's one thing to not care if an insufferable aunt doesn't like your bride, but it's very different when friends and peers start treating him like an idiot for marrying an unimportant and "tolerable" country girl. Also when he realizes that Georgiana will not be getting the same suitors that he would expect.

That's why I think their marriage is not going to be all that. Don't get me wrong, I don't believe Darcy would start being cruel or disrespectful to Elizabeth like Mr Bennet was to his wife. But to continue happily married? I don't think so.

Oh I strongly disagree! I think Darcy and Elizabeth would be extremely happy in marriage.

As to the social consequences of his marrying a tolerable country girl, I'm not convinced that they would be so dire. The Bennets' ruin was averted through Lydia's marriage, I'm not sure it would be talked about much in the wider world. More to the point, he has a powerful family in whose interest it would be, once the Darcy/Elizabeth marriage happened, to make sure Elizabeth was accepted in all the right circles. They'd likely ensure that Lady C didn't do or say anything to spoil the family's standing. We know from some hints in the novel itself that, once push comes to shove, even those who don't like Elizabeth and may know something of the Wickham fiasco, are too afraid to lose the privilege of friendship with Darcy to continue being a nuisance about it (e.g. Caroline Bingley).

We also know that Elizabeth isn't really only tolerable. She's charming, attractive and clever. I genuinely think that she'd actually make quite a hit once let loose in Darcy's world.

Finally, there's Darcy himself. I'm conscious that people interpret his character very differently to me (e.g. they think he's shy or anxious or on the spectrum) so this is very much my interpretation but… going by some of the descriptions we have of his character, he just doesn't seem like the sort of guy to let himself be swayed much by popular opinion. E.g. in this bit, which takes place in Netherfield, when Darcy and Bingley discuss each other's character traits (paraphrasing):

Darcy: When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning, that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself […] but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, ‘Bingley, you had better stay till next week,’ you would probably do it—you would probably not go—and, at another word, might stay a month.

Elizabeth: You have only proved by this that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself.

Bingley: I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me if, under such a circumstance, I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could.

In another conversation, he says himself that "[his] feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them."

He's just not a volatile sort of guy. He knows his own mind, he knows Elizabeth's merits, and (for all his faults) he's the sort of strong type A that would see it as his responsibiltiy to captain his ship out of any storm rather than abandon it or feel annoyed with it for having got into a storm.

I honestly struggle trying to imagine any set of events that would be at all likely, in which these two were anything other than deeply in love, delighted in each other’s company and devoted to one another.

[howtotrainabraincell]

Sweet head cannons about different Assassin's Creed characters

Henry Green: This man knows his flowers and does he ever spoil you with them. Whether they're given directly or left around for you to find, they always have sweet meanings and divulge his feelings for you in beautiful, colorful, little ways.

A pink rose once you two have known each for a time, symbolizing his vow of love and his desire to grow old with you. His hand was slightly shaking when he gifted it to you before he spoke gently to you in Punjabi, before telling you that he loves you and wishes to marry you in English. You both shed tears of happiness when you got engaged. It would be years later but when you learn enough Punjabi you would realize that he had told you "I wish to spend the rest of my life with you".

I have a feeling that he remembers the small things. If you two are out to meet a contact for information or out collecting intelligence for the Brotherhood, and you come across a store window where a beautiful cameo is on display, when you express appreciation for it or make a comment about how beautiful it is, he will remember that. Say this is in January....this man will surprise you with it months later on your birthday.

Malik Al Sayf: The thing about Malik kissing you if you are an assassin vs if you're not an assassin is this...he wants to, but it can be tricky. If you are an assassin, he'll kiss you on the cheek the same way all assassins greet each other and bid you 'Safety and Peace' as he would normally do with his fellow assassins, as he doesn't want to give any headway to any rumors about you two. But it's complicated. If he doesn't kiss you then questions will be asked (by Altair OFC who else?) but if he does kiss you, he has to be careful to not be too quick - to seem as though he has a crush and is flustered/he can't stand you (which is NOT true as you are literally the only person, he CAN stand lol). Then there's also the kissing you for too long bc he'll seem romantically interested (OH BOY IS HE) but he can't reveal that as much as he wants to.

Have a feeling the man is an overthinker haha.

If this is before Al Mualim that is - afterward he'll kiss you without a care and if Altair says anything he'll threaten to throw a knife at him lol. If you're not an assassin though, why would he have reason to kiss you??? But you better believe that he'll come out of nowhere when you're minding your own business, whisk you off somewhere where you two can't be seen and kiss you breathless.

Haytham Kenway: He seems like the kind of lover to be gone a lot, but he really tries to make up for it when he comes home. He understands that gifts and surprises don't make up for his absence - although each gift sent is silent sincere apology - but even if he's not there he'll provide for you.

I don't know why...but something tells me that the man gets matching things for you two. If you're wearing a blue dress, he's wearing a suit in the same color and you two always look very dashing whether apart or together.

You could wake up one morning expecting another day at home, when Haytham has instructed the household to make a nice to go breakfast for you and then for the groom to take you horse riding so you can get out of the house for a little bit. With Templar protection of course he's not taking any chances. He may also arrange a day in Boston for you to go shopping and stay in the city to unwind for a bit.  Expect gifts to be delivered when he's away. He'll have a dress made for you and have it sent a week after he leaves with a sweet letter alongside it as well. A flower delivery a few days later. He even surprised you with a spaniel puppy once.

[badwolfrose34]

GitF Question and Rant

Is there anyone else who fully does not believe GitF actually happened? I just don’t feel the Doctor could ever behave the way he did. If he did it would be impossible for he and Rose to continue to have the relationship we all see and love in every other episode. He stopped caring about Rose’s safety to party with a woman he just met and then he abandoned her and Mickey and left them for dead. Plus the horse going through the time window is just abuse. The part with the horse is so unrealistic that it just adds more evidence to me feeling like it simply didn’t happen. It was a window strong enough to need a truck. So having a horse jump through it is abusive and it’s completely absurd to believe that a horse would willingly do that and come out unscathed.

Since the episode has no effect on the rest of the show I just feel it can be ignored or viewed as a nightmare Rose had.

I feel like the only one who sees it this way though, so if anyone else agrees please comment or reblog. If a lot of people interact, I'll reshare my fic that shows it was a nightmare and explains why it logically would be a nightmare. It was the fic I’ve worked the hardest on and it was what even got me willing to put myself out there on AO3. I feel like it is totally realistic for Rose to have a nightmare about being abandoned after Jimmy left her for another woman and her dad died (which can be absorbed as abandonment by young children). And it also makes perfect sense for school reunion to trigger it.

I just thought I had this great idea that would help other fans cope with the episode and now I’m realizing I’m kind of in the minority with my staunch belief it never happened.

I’ve ridden horses since I was a kid and my first job was riding and caring for horses. I know them and I know no horse is going to be bursting through a time window like that. I also have a degree in psychology and I have my own PTSD nightmares so I feel that episode is completely realistic as a vivid nightmare for Rose.

I’m just an overly obsessed Rose fan hoping she’s not alone in this. I know a lot of people enjoy exploring the incident as a mistake he apologizes for, but it’s so much more than that. It’s a deep reprehensible betrayal that within the context of the rest of the show, just wouldn’t happen. I do know that people make mistakes in relationships, but some things just don’t happen when you love someone. Everything the Doctor did in that episode was completely unforgivable if it did happen. He left her for dead for another woman he just met. So that’s why I say it didn’t happen. The very next episode there’s no grief in the Doctor. He’s happy and reminiscing with Rose. Which to me confirms it never happened.

[hopelessromantic5]

Last one for the night.

Sorry for the content dump. 🫶

Regency AU clip. Arthur and Merlin inspired by Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sharma.

Arthur’s father, The Viscount, decided he had let Arthur ‘pursue fanciful whims’ long enough.

He wanted Arthur to find a wife this season.

Oh, joy.

It was for this reason, Arthur went for an early morning ride, to let out his overwhelming frustration and to get out of that blasted house with his siblings, more specifically, his elder sister and her eyes full of pity.

Morgana knew that Arthur wanted to hold out for love, the kind of love their own parents shared. Arthur felt it his duty to find someone who would one day become Viscountess, have his children and help him continue his family’s long-standing reputation.

The only problem, which isn’t really a problem, more of an inconvenience, was that Arthur didn’t like women, in the slightest. Romantically speaking, that is.

He found this out the hard way when his college mates tried to throw him into a room full of naked women.

Arthur was…curious. But nothing beyond that, women were a complete mystery to him so he was really just in awe of their natural bodies and how objectively beautiful they were.

But it did nothing. No part of him stirred or got excited. That’s when he started to become uncomfortable, because he’d always known, deep down, in a place no one ever sees.

He left rather quickly.

Thankfully, his friends had disappeared by then.

The ride led him farther into the woods than he usually went, but he knew his way around them.

He slowed his horse to a trot as he went lost in his thoughts.

That was quickly interrupted when he heard galloping approaching. Very fast.

Before he could think twice, the horse and the person riding it, raced just past Arthur, causing his own mare to stumble a bit.

Well, I’ve got to see what this is about.

That was the only thought to cross his mind before turning the other direction, taking off as fast as he could.

He spotted the horse and rider immediately. Arthur rode harder and urged the animal below him to follow.

He had almost caught up, when a branch that seemed to come from nowhere caught Arthur’s jacket and caused him to pull back on the reigns, involuntarily.

He slowed to a stop, laughing hysterically.

That was fun.

“You’re laughing a lot for someone who lost.” The voice was deep.

Arthur hadn’t realized the horse in front of him also slowed and stopped, unwilling to turn the opposite direction and face him.

Arthur took the stranger in, finally. All he could see was a blue cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding all identity.

The skilled hands gripping the reigns wore gloves.

“To be fair, we never agreed on a stopping point and that limb was interference, divinely guided as it may have been.”

“Oh, divinely guided, was it?” The man snickered, but it was closer to a giggle.

Arthur couldn’t read the stranger very well when he could not see him.

He took matters into his own hands and rode past the other man, then spun to see the horse-whisperer directly, face to face.

“Oh.”

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting.

But it was not to have his breath stolen.

He could not even see all of the man’s face, but what peaked out from under the hood was pale flawless skin and perfect pink lips.

Hooded eyes pointed to the ground between their two steeds.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who won.” Arthur quipped.

The man finally raised him eyes in a glare that didn’t hold much heat behind it.

God, those eyes.

Blue like the ice that forms from dripping water on the window sills. The lightest clearest parts of the ocean. Pure and endless.

Wow.

Arthur had never been struck by a person’s beauty before.

“You’re a complete stranger, what if you have ill intentions, or try to rob me blind?”

Arthur threw his head back in a laugh at this.

“You aren’t that inattentive. My intentions are pure, you have my word. I am a gentleman.” Arthur smirked at the blue eyed wonder. He got a small smile in return.

“Well, I have to be getting back.”

No.

Arthur’s whole body practically howled the word. He’s not unable to control himself.

“Will I see you again?”

The man was already turning around to return from the way they came.

“Perhaps you will, my lord.”

Arthur sputters.

“How did you know I was-“

“I’m not that inattentive.” The man called over his shoulder before tapping the side of his boot on the horses flank and taking off into the trees.

Well, that was truly something.

[uslessnoahtall]

Book Genre Legacy Challenge

Hello! I've been playing the Sims for what feels like forever at this point, and the only way I ever manage to keep myself invested in the game is by playing legacy challenges. I kinda wanted to try my hand at making my own legacy challenge, so here it is!

The Sims 4 Book Genre Legacy Challenge!

Basic Rules: - Reach the end of each aspiration. - Reach level ten of career unless specified otherwise. - Cheats are allowed but try not to use them (only because they make gameplay less fun). - Reach level 10 of each set of skills given for each generation - Heir can be any gender unless specified.

I did my best to make this as Base Game compatible as possible, if you’re missing some packs and I didn’t offer an alternative just pick your own or skip it.

Gen 1: Classics

Colours: Blue and Brown Traits: Family Oriented, Dog Lover (BG: Neat), Art Lover Aspiration: Lord or Lady of the Knits (BG: Successful Lineage) Career: Start as Business but quit once you have kids Skills: Knitting and Parenting

You’ve been called an old soul all your life. Everyone always laughed at you for your simplistic dreams. You’ve always wanted a simple life. White picket fence, perfect partner, two kids, and a dog, maybe even a rocking chair to knit on. Who cares if you don’t have big career plans, at least you’ve got a family.

Rules: - Must have at least two kids - Quit your job once you have your kids. - Have a good relationship with all children. - Adopt a dog once your kids are toddlers. - Only have one romantic relationship and marry them before you’re an adult.

Gen 2: Western

Colours: Brown and White Traits: Bro, Rancher (BG: Hates Children), Loner Aspiration: Championship Rider (BG: Bodybuilder) Career: Athlete or no Job (Horse Ranch) Skills: Fitness, Horse Riding, and Guitar

You grew up in a picture perfect home. You were adored by your parents and lived the perfect life. But not everything was as great as it seemed. You learnt very quickly how mean children could be, as you were the youngest of the family and constantly picked on by your sibling(s). You moved out as soon as your were able to and bought the biggest piece of land you could find. Anything to get away from other people. 

Rules: - Have a bad relationship with your sibling(s) - Move out as soon as you’re a young adult onto a plot of land - Buy a horse (if you have HR) as soon as you can - Have an unexpected child (one only)  - Don’t move in with your partner until you know you’re having a child  - Have a high relationship with partner and parents, no one else

Gen 3: Science Fiction 

Colours: White and Green Traits: Geek, Socially Awkward (BG: Clumsy), Genius Aspiration: Computer Whiz Career: Astronaut Skills: Programming, Rocket Science, and Robotics

As an only child, you were taught to entertain yourself. Your parents had never enjoyed company, and hadn’t payed much attention to you growing up. You kept yourself busy, ignoring their silly western ideals and searching for a more captivating life in the stars. You found a passion in technology, and found numbers far easier to understand than people. Maybe there’s life out there better than the people you’ve met on earth. 

Rules: - Build a rocket ship  - Travel to Sixam and bring an alien back to earth with you (if you have GTW) - Marry the alien and have a kid  - Never make friends  - Don’t talk to your parents after you move out 

Gen 4: Comedy

Colours: Green and Yellow Traits: Goofball, Self Absorbed (BG: Noncommittal), Outgoing Aspiration: Joke Star Career: Entertainer (Comedian Branch) Skills: Comedy and  Charisma

Your parents always had their head in the stars, and being half alien you felt like an outcast as a child. You hated how hard it was to make friends and only wanted to be like everyone else. Once you reached a teenager however, you realized that if you tried hard enough and got everyone to like you, no one would even realize you were a little odd. 

Rules: - Make a bunch of friends as a teenager, but never stay close with any of them - Host house parties once a week - Have at least three kids and have a good relationship with them all - Sever all connection to your alien parent after you move out

Gen 5: Contemporary

Colours: Yellow and Pink Traits: Ambitious, Snob, Materialistic  Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy Career: Doctor (BG: Business) Skills: Logic and Painting 

You grew up in a very loud family. Everyone was always laughing and there were parties almost every week. As a child you loved it, but as you got older you realized there were more important things in life than laughter. You decided to take a different route than the rest of your family. To you, there was nothing more important than success, other than money of course. 

Rules: - Marry someone in the same career field as you. - Have a large house and hire a maid/butler as soon as you can afford it. - While your children are young, hire a nanny for them instead of sending them to daycare. - Have an over-the-top wedding. - Decorate your house with your own art (no one else makes art that is good enough for you)

Gen 6: Romance

Colours: Pink and Red Traits: Romantic, Good, Music Lover Aspiration: Soulmate Career: Entertainer (Actor Branch) or Acting (GF) Skills: Charisma, Acting, Piano or Violin

As a kid, you always felt like the outcast of the family. Your sibling(s) were super smart and seemed likely to follow in your parents successful footsteps, while you were always a little behind, more interested in making friends than success. You feel in love with romantic stories and tv shows at a young age, as everything always seemed to work out for the main characters. Your parents were a little cold and  you barely saw them be affectionate with each other. As you got older you decided that the world needed a little more love.

Rules: - Must be a woman  - Date as many sims as you want but don’t woohoo until married - Have at least two close friends and one best friend - Adopt a dog - Have a music room in your house

Gen 7: Horror

Colours: Red and Black Occult option: Vampire Traits: Gloomy, Perfectionist. Unflirty (BG: Hot-Headed)  Aspiration: Villainous Valentine Career: Secret Agent (Villain Branch) Skills: Vampire Lore, Pipe organ or Piano, Mischief 

Your mom drove you crazy growing up. Her insanely positive outlook on life made you laugh. You believed she’d just gotten lucky in her love life, there’s no way anyone else could achieve that sort of perfect romance. All that being said, you do love her with all your heart. But as the only official black sheep of the family, you made it your goal to make your family the complete opposite of the one you grew up in, staring with the worst career you could think of. 

Rules: - Have a good relationship with your parents and invite them over for weekly dinners  - Adopt a black cat -Partner should match your values - Don’t settle down until aspiration is complete 

Gen 8: Fantasy

Colours: Black and Purple Traits: Loves Outdoors, Jealous, Creative Aspiration: Freelance Botanist  Career: Gardener (BG: No Job) Skills: Gardening, Flower Arranging, Baking

You loved the whimsicalness of your grandmother when you were a child. If you had the choice you would’ve had her raise you instead of your own parents. Growing up in such a dark environment made you want to fill your own house colours. The one thing you and your parent do have in common however, is your twisted outlook on love, as you are constantly convinced that your partner is cheating on you.

Rules:  - Have a good relationship with your grandmother  - Have at least three partners before you find the one, and be the one to break up with them all - Have a greenhouse  - Don’t have any kids until your grandmother dies - Have a rocky relationship with your spouse

Gen 9: Mystery

Colours: Purple and Grey Traits: Paranoid (BG: Loner), Loyal, Slob Aspiration: Master Mixologist  Career: Detective (BG: Secret Agent, Diamond Agent Branch) Skills: Mixology, Photography, Charisma

You had a pretty normal childhood, aside from the occasional screaming match between your parents. Unfortunately you inherited one of your parents tendency for paranoia, and constantly think somethings out to get you. Instead of taking it out on your partner however, you take it out on the criminals in town, and the occasional drink. And hey you never know, maybe some criminals can be trusted. 

Rules: - Have at least one drink a night after work (either at a bar or at home) - Marry someone in the criminal career branch (can be cheated) - Move houses at least three times (best to never stay in one place too long) - Never hire a repair service, fix everything yourself 

Gen 10: Memoir

Colours: Grey and Blue Traits: Perfectionist, Ambitious, High Maintenance (BG: Creative) Aspiration: Best-selling Author Career: Writer (Author Branch) Skills: Writing

Growing up you loved your parents, but something about how much they drank always rubbed you the wrong way. You always liked things to be set up in specific ways and you hated the fact that your parents always left a mess. You spent a lot of time reading as your parents were too preoccupied to take much care of you. One day you find a bunch of dusty old books that appear to be about the older generations of your family, but it’s hard to make out. Annoyed by the lack of information about your family lineage, you decide you should be the one to write it all down. 

Rules: - Have a complicated relationship with your parents  - Publish 10 books, each named after a different generation. - Read 9 books prior to starting your writing (as research). - Have a library in your home 

I think that's everything! I hope you guys enjoy this challenge! Please tag me in any posts about this challenge or post it with the hashtag #bookgenrelegacy

Happy Simming!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

After the Horse Has Bolted

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: T Word Count: 1899

Summary: Though they escaped execution, Guildford continues to struggle with his transformations and, worse, with dreams of losing Jane. A frank conversation with Susannah might help more than he expects it to.

He loves her like this, watching her move about the camp at twilight. She isn't the only person here with medical knowledge, and she lacks the experience to deal with more severe battle wounds, and some of the Ethians are steadfastly distrustful, but there are enough willing to let Jane close, and enough minor wounds, and, generally, enough patients to go around. Her skills are badly needed.

As Jane tends to people, Guildford feels a bit useless. Though he did try to help, he quickly realized it was all too unfamiliar for him to be of much use. Besides, these people don't extend the same welcome to him as they do Jane. He doesn't have her bedside manner, he supposes. Fuck them for finding him slightly jumpy and suspicious after one of their own (technically, one of his own, but fuck) attempted to murder him with iron manacles. But he thinks this without heat. These people are their allies—almost their only allies—and he's trying to see what Jane sees.

Mostly, he just likes seeing Jane. Jane in the early morning, scavenging in the woods for medicinal plants. Jane winning over strangers by sitting at their side to cut the thread of their stitches with her teeth instead sitting on the throne to sign a document they may never feel the benefit of. Jane alive. Guildford hasn't told her yet that he sees her differently when he closes his eyes. He sees her pristine white dress across the square, the black strip that blinds her. In his dreams, he watches helplessly as she kneels and the axe swings down. That's when he wakes up screaming her name.

Yeah, maybe that's another reason these people feel a little uneasy around him.

Except Susannah. Susannah's been marvellous. They've sort of met before—him below the stairs with the beautiful woman he would next see walking up the aisle of a church, her rushing down those stairs to warn Archer about the guards, then the night of the attempted assassination outside the old Ethian camp—but Susannah makes more of their acquaintance than it really is. She does it so the others will trust him, because they clearly trust her. They listen to her. It isn't long before Guildford learns it was Susannah who mustered the rescue party that saved his and Jane's lives, though he suspects as much even before it's confirmed. He sees their bond. He's grateful for it.

How grateful though, is the thing, when Susannah plonks herself down on the log where Guildford's seated, and follows his eyes, smirking to catch him gazing at Jane.

"D'you ever let your wife ride you?"

He can't look at her as he responds, "Just the once, escaping execution."

"Ah, y'know that's not what I mean."

"No, I don't know that," Guildford says stubbornly.

Susannah hunches forward and catches his eye.

"How come you're blushin' then?"

"Piss off."

"No."

He looks at her, and she's grinning. While Jane was raised a lady and Susannah supported herself in service, Guildford's found them to be cut from a very similar cloth. They're both unflinchingly bold when they want to be. Cautious, at other times, but not timid. Not everyone can tell the difference. He's been learning Jane, and is beginning to know Susannah, and he can tell she's teasing him for a reason. It might be friendly, or a protective test of Jane's husband's mettle, or something else. Whatever it is, Guildford realizes he's probably better off not trying to shut her out. They're persistent, these two women.

"Want to know why I'm asking?" Susannah prompts.

"I'm guessing you'll tell me."

"Very good!" She shifts closer and lowers her voice. "It's 'cause I've heard you screamin' your feckin' head off the last three nights."

"And you thought Jane was responsible?"

"Yeah, I hoped she was ridin' you like there's no tomorrow. Two reasons for that. You want 'em?"

"Terrific," Guildford says flatly.

"One," Susannah says, holding up a finger to show the count, "because back when Jane and I lived under the same roof, I was beginning to have serious concerns that she was never gonna let herself enjoy herself. It was a virgin you took to your marriage bed, Guildford, no question."

"You are nosy, aren't you?" He scowls at her, but Susannah stares back, unfazed.

"It's the same for her with me. If your hair wasn't curled already, she'd have stories to tell you that'd do the job."

"Please just get to your second reason."

Susannah sighs.

"If it's not Jane, somethin's troublin' you, and it can't go unaddressed. We can't have that. You'll either attract trouble to our camp or somebody already livin' in it'll stab you themselves to keep you quiet. Probably your wife."

Guildford sags. He knows she's right—the last thing he wants to be is a liability. He doesn't want to get anyone else hurt or killed. Especially Jane. Jane, who was sentenced to death for marrying him. Jane, who stood in the fire with him, the bond between them even stronger than the rope that wouldn't split. She would die for him. Without question, without thought, without hesitation. But he wouldn't survive getting her killed.

Susannah has fallen silent, apparently waiting for him to suggest a solution. Guildford doesn't know if this is an Ethian thing or just a Susannah thing: allowing that the person with the problem probably knows themselves best. He thinks it's likely that she's wrong in his case, believing himself the picture of stunted self-knowledge and repressed memories. He takes a deep breath. He can't be that man anymore. It doesn't do anyone any good, himself included.

"I keep dreaming she was executed. You and the Ethians don't come, and I can't get free of the ropes, and I see her beheaded." His own throat feels painfully thick as he forces the words out.

"I can see why that'd be botherin' you."

"It nearly happened," Guildford agrees.

"That's not why. I don't think it's about Jane."

"Of course it is!"

But Susannah's shaking her head.

"It's not her who's powerless, it's you. In the dream, you're tethered. Outside the dream, what is it you feel you can't control?"

Slowly, Guildford understands what she's getting at. He answers, "My transformation. My Ethianism." He narrows his eyes at Susannah. "You're very insightful."

"I'm not, actually. You just have a very straightforward problem: mental impotence. See it all the time in men. Tragic affliction."

He catches sight of her smirk and wants to shove her off the log.

"Have the two of you been able to fuck since the near-execution, by the way?" Susannah asks.

"Thank you for the advice, doctor," Guildford says sarcastically, head cocked to one side, "but that is really none of your concern. Try meddling in your own relationship."

"What relationship would that be?"

He frowns.

"Are you and Archer not...?"

"Archer?!" Susannah catches herself and continues more softly. "In his dreams. Not to be insensitive," she adds, making Guildford roll his eyes. "But no, definitely not. Trust me, if he'd been lucky enough to have me in his bed, he wouldn't have been lookin' at..."

It's far too obvious that Susannah has just caught herself again, but Guildford's glad she did. His trust in his wife is absolute. That doesn't mean he would appreciate Archer attempting to come between them. He rises, deciding to forget Archer and focus on Jane.

"Try the sex thing," Susannah says on their parting. "It might help, is all!"

"Try the minding your own business thing!"

Guildford actually does plan on trying something thanks to this conversation, but it's not sex. (Yet. Later? Gods, yes.)

He doesn't try to sleep that night, not yet. He lies on his back in the dark, listening to the low murmur of conversation from the lookouts tending the campfire, to the sound of his own even breathing. He stares up at the trees, their shapes black against the blue-black night. Sometimes, he stares past them at the stars.

Before dawn, Guildford gently rouses Jane from where she sleeps beside him. Between treating the injured and being startled awake by his screams, she hasn't been getting as much rest as she needs, but he hopes she'll understand. Taking her hand, he leads her to a clearing a short distance from the camp. Someplace they'll be able to see the sky change colour ahead of sunrise. They walk with soft steps. The yawn Jane can't stifle has the round, open notes of birdsong. Soon, real birds begin to sing. He wonders whether any Ethians are among them.

Gradually, everything brightens.

"Stand here," Guildford says, taking Jane's hands in his plea, then dropping them and backing off to a safe distance.

She doesn't argue. He's told her about his mother.

Before the light of day can rush across the horizon, Guildford closes his eyes and concentrates. There's no risk of imminent death to compel him now. He has to know if he can do it anyway. Instead of resisting thoughts of the past, he permits himself to recall how it feels to change, concentrating until the sensation is alive in him. Instead of disconnecting from the present, he inhales the earthy scent of the forest, shifts his boots on the ground, knows without looking that Jane is standing where he left her, waiting for him, trusting him.

He changes just before daybreak.

In this form, his hearing is keener, keen enough to pick up Jane's quiet gasp from across the clearing. His own steady breathing expands his strong lungs, drawing in details of his environment that are beyond his human senses. What he likes best is Jane's smile as she approaches him, the soothing strokes of her hands on his face. He stands there on four legs, enjoying her gentle touch and the heat of the sun on his flank, then, closing his eyes to the world once more, Guildford changes back.

He's stumbling forward into Jane's arms before he realizes he never moved away from her before trying to transform. Obviously, his human form is smaller and therefore less of a hazard, but Guildford isn't convinced that was the ruling instinct. It felt more like... he just knew he could do it. He was sure of himself, in that body and in this one, and in whatever he is during the fleeting moment in between.

"Guildford! How did you do that?" she demands, full of awe and urgent curiosity. "I haven't seen you control it since the night we escaped the Tower!"

Yes, that's true. After bearing her away from that place, he turned back into a man. That's how he was when the Ethians found them, and how he remained through the night. At dawn, he despaired, once again becoming a horse against his will. It persisted. Day, horse. Night, man. The terrible dreams. This morning has been Guildford's first time taking the reins, so to speak. It's a colossal relief, and he looks lovingly into Jane's eyes, knowing she understands that much, even if she can't yet explain the rest.

It seems to him that the best words to say are, "I've always wanted to kiss you at daybreak."

"That's a lot of effort for a kiss," Jane observes.

"Then you'd better make it worth it," he retorts with a grin.

And he holds her, and she does.

[madrivervalleyicelandics]

TW pet loss

Big long reflection post under the cut. Wanted to say it all somewhere that doesn’t have a character limit.

We are about a year out from when we put our two mares diagnosed with ESPA to sleep. Ultimately losing them has caused me to really sit with & unpack the way I had allowed the judging & breed standards to impair, inform, & even BECOME my own judgement, even when they didn’t make sense or clashed with something I knew wasn’t right. I think we all need to become more honest about the root of our sports & traditions, & redefine our ideas of “correctness” not based off of historical trends but the best & most current research we have access to.

I liked Skvísa from the start because she was hypermobile & that made her talented & easy to prepare for sport. Bottom line. Hypermobility wins, the standard calls it correct & rewards it, & I followed & believed in the standard. I didn’t see her hypermobility for what it was until recently. I saw it as talent, suppleness, flexibility.

If I hadn’t bred her, she’d have lived an almost normal lifespan, which is true of many ESPA horses. She always had some sensitivity & required a lot of careful stabilizing training to stay balanced with a rider (particularly to keep her trot & avoid cross-canter), but she would have more or less been okay for the normal lifespan of a horse. Her fetlocks might have dropped in her late teens, she might have developed an unusual propensity for eye ulcers or colics or whatever but if I hadn’t - twice! - allowed her body to undergo 11 months of relaxin & weight gain followed by a year+ of pasture time afterwards, she’d have lived a more or less normal life, & I can almost guarantee she’d have retired undiagnosed & whatever eventually killed her wouldn’t have prompted us to make the connection & diagnose her.

She only got diagnosed because for whatever reason her kids expressed this hereditary disease to a much more extreme degree, & with a much faster progression. Síríus was incompatible with life because his larynx lacked integrity & stuck together when he flexed his neck, blocking his airway. His older sister, Sylgja, seemed normal at birth but presented with extreme nerve impingements as she grew, & was crippled & experiencing whole-body pain episodes by 5. I got to see her get better under my stabilizing training & then watch her completely fall apart worse than before & realize that it was my responsibility, entirely, from her conception right down to the bitter, early end.

What happened to these horses is 100% my responsibility & my fault, the result of choices I made. But I made those choices based on the education I received regarding what “correctness” is & looks like - a standard I was then very heavily reinforced for riding & training towards.

Since my mares’ deaths, I’ve learned about enough other Icelandic horses with this disease, & talked to enough people who fully don’t care & have no intention to change anything that I’ve all but completely removed myself from the breed community. I won’t be told this was an isolated or unlucky problem for me specifically when I know that I’m not alone. I won’t continue to use language that dances around what we’re doing when we endlessly rehab the same problems over & over again - horses losing trot, losing canter, getting pacey, crests falling over, etc etc etc. I can’t see the sense in continuing to chase an “outline” that requires inappropriate poll/AO compression & a degree of leg action that does not make sense to the animal’s anatomy, with no research to support these practices and so MUCH research indicating that this runs counter to welfare, while mindlessly parroting the standards & citing them as the reason why X hypermobile hyperflexed example is “correct.” It’s a feedback loop. We’re saying that the horse is correct if he scores high, but he scores high because he’s correct.

It makes no sense. It’s rooted in nothing. The standard was written to fit the trends - it’s not as if science informed the standard & THEN the sport followed. No! The sport came first. That’s true of Icelandic horses, true of saddleseat, Tennessee walkers, hell - it’s true of competitive dressage. Honestly? It’s true of classical dressage, too! We are riding to standards set by a bunch of dudes from a very long time ago based off of what they thought 1. Looked cool & 2. Felt cool to ride, with NONE of the knowledge we currently have about training science, biomechanics, equine behavior, etc. As recently as the 1970s, scientists were still claiming animals couldn’t feel pain. Think about how that mentality informed horse training!!

We retrofitted rules to match & reward what was already winning, in these early iterations of sport. We continue to do mental & linguistic gymnastics to maintain this status quo with every new study that emerges. We know SO MUCH MORE now. We have progressed rapidly in the last century, last 50 years especially. Equestrian sports NEED an update. The onus can’t just be on the riders to find ways to meet the standards using better, more evidence-based techniques. The sport standards themselves have to change to fit what we KNOW now.

Anyway. Not all hypermobility is ESPA, obviously, and many ESPA horses can live long, relatively okay lives with careful management - if they’re diagnosed and the owners know & can stop riding them & certainly not breed them. It’s worth learning how to manage hypermobility, & how to use certain training techniques to help stabilize hypermobile horses, because the world is now absolutely freaking flooded with them. But until we stop rewarding it so heavily, we won’t stop selecting for it, & as I learned the hard way - when you’re breeding hypermobile animals, you can’t control how that hypermobility expresses itself down the line. AND - ESPA isn’t the only disease or injury associated with selecting for hypermobility.

Bottom line: No horse deserves what happened to Sylgja, in particular. She suffered, and longer than she should have because it took me so long to figure out what was wrong.

Because of this experience with them, my life looks completely different than it did a year ago, & in my opinion every single change is very much for the better. Identifying and learning to manage my own hypermobility & connective tissue weirdness has been a piece of that puzzle. I owe very much to those mares, but that is not what horses are here for. They do not exist to suffer so that we can learn about ourselves.

I considered what it would look like to step away from horsekeeping entirely, & in the heaviest months of grief that felt extremely attractive. But where I landed is to recommit myself to understanding their minds & bodies, be a student again (the trauma-informed certification being the first step of that!) & reconnect with my own horses more as pets, & less through sport. Beyond that, I really can’t say what my future with horses holds.

Right now I’m focusing on healing & supporting my own body, & building up other areas of my life. My own horses are not in the back seat, but they’re on this journey alongside me, rather than BEING my journey. I think it’s the amount of distance & clarity I need from the various pressures & stressors of The Sport to avoid falling back into the cycles that blinded me to Skvísa’s dysfunction to begin with.

I hope that when all is said & done, I emerge from all this grief & shifting to find that I am a better horseman than I was when they left me. Time will tell.

But I can’t let a year go by without acknowledging it. They died about a year ago. It was the worst experience of my life, from Síríus’ birth to Sylgja & Skvísa’s last breaths. I miss them daily. I feel the weight of my responsibility for them & their pain always, & I always will.

And if I haven’t said it publicly, I am so, so sorry for what happened to them.