#anyway the riders needed a good shaming

[kariachi]

I can’t remember if I posted it but ages ago I wrote a ficlet about a wher from that first clutch Impressing. Finally wrote the scene that inspired the au.

~~

It was reaching a point where she couldn’t remember sleep. The pack had been too riled up, everyone feeding off each other’s surety that they should stay awake and that something was going to happen, for her to do more than lay down and shut her eyes in the hours before the evacuation had been sounded, and since then-

Since then she had been running off adrenaline, klah, and she and the pack’s driving need to make sure everyone was alright and would remain so. Brown Lask and bronze Dinsk had been sent out to help evacuate children, the elderly, the infirm, while she and gold Landisk and Mosk had set to work helping remove goods. None of the machinery, nobody was willing to trust the pack with them, but food and other such basic goods needed moving and Monett had enough administrative experience to be trusted with managing the records for them. Even when all the people were evacuated and a fair chunk of Landing was buried, there were still animals to corral and stores that were still safe enough to access.

Overall, between all that, and helping with administrative work, and everyone and their mother having a demand for the pack to earn their keep that only Monett really had the ability to refuse, it had been nearly forty hours since she’d last gotten any sort’ve sleep.

So when she, on her way back to the little cavern they were using from a long conversation about how none of them were doing any more work until nightfall and anyone to wake them before then was being eaten, had heard the dragonriders griping about being asked to haul vital machinery? Standing there looking fresh as daisies and perfectly well fed, while they were exhausted and had gotten a goat for the pack to share- Mosk blearily pushed the knowledge the dragons had raided the Galliani’s flock into her mind, only feeding her ire further- and whining?

She felt she could be excused for walking up and socking Sean Connell right in his fucking face.

“You poor fucking dears,” she mocked, too tired and aggravated to cover up the bone deep exhaustion that echoed in her voice. “How dare we expect you to pull your weight during this natural disaster. What right do we, who are working ourselves to death, have to ask that you maybe take on a bit of the load.”

“Monett…” Sorka stepped between her and her bleeding husband, ever the peacemaker, but Monett ignored her in favor of turning on the rest of the riders. They all took another step back.

“Marco,” she growled, “you and Duluth may want to go and come clean to your family about those sheep now, otherwise I’ll tell them purely to spite the lot of you.” Eyes went wide and then unfocused as the riders realized they’d been caught out and poked at their dragons for answers. The same frowns and eyeing that always came with a reminder of the pack and their still being dragons thank you kindly soon followed. Marco turned and started walking towards his dragon.

When she turned back to Sean and Sorka, he stood tall and proud, his nose clearly broken. That alone was enough to make the aching in her hand worth it. The scowl on his face rolled off her like water off a duck. They’d never gotten on anyway, both too proud and stubborn for the other’s taste, though Monett was happy to say that as least she didn’t have her head far enough up her ass to rechew her food.

“The victim complex was acceptable when we were kids, Sean Connell,” she said with a sneer that despite his obvious efforts discomfited him, when she’d only ever publicly been smiles and calm, “because you and your people were going through a lot. But once you started being one of the most trusted and highly respected people on the planet? It’s gotten old fast. Just because you’re fucking life of no work has to go on pause for a week does not make you the fucking victims here. We’ve been up damn near forty hours, spent that whole time working, we’ve gotten two thank yous so far, one was from Wind Blossom and the other from Mrs Vanrom, who was having an episode and thought Dinsk was Firth.” Shih had the decency to look sheepish and his eyes unfocused. After a few heartbeats he slumped in relief, and some of Monett’s ire waned with a report that Firth had apologized to Dinsk and been forgiven.

“Meanwhile,” she continued anyway, because one pair being decent did not undo things, “you lot are out here getting a good night’s sleep, stealing livestock, still loved by everybody, and whining at the idea of having to help people. Why the fuck were you lot brought in front of the eggs if you don’t even want to help?!” The riders all flinched, though Sean tried to hide it. Good, they deserved a good shaming.

“Our job isn’t freight,” he said.

“Neither is ours,” Monett countered, “but we care about the people in this colony and so we do what we need to to help. What the fuck good are you if you see people in need in front of you and scoff and bitch at the idea of giving them that aid? What makes you better than the fuckers we were brought to Pern to get away from? What happens if somebody’s baby gets sick, or someone is injured and needs to be brought to care? Will you bitch and moan about them too? It’s not your job after all, it’s just basic decency.” Sorka was visibly pained, moreso than the others, and Sean’s jaw sat tight. Monett stepped back, head held high, and regarded the lot coldly.

“I can only hope none of your families ever need those supplies.” And with that she turned on her heel and headed off again, anger still roiling in her gut. Mosk pressed comfort into her mind, and assurance that they could pick up the slack that night. She sent back indignance at the idea of having to. Leaving all else out, the pack were younger, less appreciated, less trusted. It wasn’t fair that they should be doing all the work while that lot got all the praise. Still, the comfort came.

By the time she reached the cavern, Mosk had come to the mouth to greet her, eyes shut against the sun. Wrapping her arms around that shining, blocky head, she pressed a kiss to one headknob and let her bonded take her weight. Despite hardly hitting one-twenty and all of Mosk’s assurances, she felt like she weighed a ton.

“Let’s get some sleep, darling. Hopefully things won’t be so awful in the evening.”

[lsunstreakerl]

honestly, any strange ship, a while ago you had commented about Sebastian being a "guilty" "ship" something strange or guilty in that sense

this did not end up being sebastian- I mean, he's kind of there. I also need just not try and estimate word counts because this ended up being 1.3k. HI HELLO: this is from the kink prompts so it is explicit in nature, as in people are fucking and getting fucked.

pairings: mark webber/max verstappen, max verstappen/marc márquez, implied mark webber/sebastian vettel, implied daniel ricciardo/max verstappen

relevant heads up: slight exhibitionist kink, semi-socially acceptable public sex, sex under the influence of alcohol, the slightest hint of a temperature kink, mild slut shaming

Max doesn't make a habit of feeling out of place at parties, considering how often he's at them, but this-

This is totally different to anything else he knows. They're in some huge remote cabin-style resort, a weeklong trip entirely paid by Redbull.

Everyone in attendance is either an insane talent in their respect area, or a revered alum, which is how Max has found himself on his knees, Mark Webber's cock down his throat, with Sebastian Vettel piping in with incredibly unhelpful instructions.

"Little bit more tongue, yes, like that- he loves that. Hates to admit it, but nothing gets him off faster- also you'll want to close your eyes when he comes, he likes to get it all over the face, nasty-"

"Shut up."

Mark's talking to Sebastian, but Max is the one who gets his hair pulled roughly, which really doesn't feel fair here- he's not mouthing off, and it's not his fault Mark and Seb still don't have their shit figured out.

He makes a muffled noise around Mark, who groans at the vibrations, and Max realizes with a twinge of annoyance that he actually has been listening to Seb- which is fucking stupid, if Seb wants to suck Mark's cock he can come do it himself, but Max is going to do it his way.

He doesn't give any kind of warning, just watches his teeth before suddenly taking Mark all the way to the base, breathing through his nose.

He's not as impressive as Da- some other Australians Max has gotten on his knees for before.

Mark chokes on an inhale, fingers clenching in Max's hair, and Max grins to himself, because he's not Sebastian Vettel, and no matter how badly Mark wants to dominate a blonde bratty European Redbull world champion, he's not going to find it in Max.

Max deliberately moans, low and long, and Mark's hips jerk before they snap frantically into his mouth.

"Fuck- fuck, Sebastian-"

Oh come on.

People who can't call Max by his name do not get to come on his face, so he doesn't let up, keeps Mark down his throat as he comes, and it's longer than Max expected for a guy in his late forties, honestly.

Seb just laughs from his chair, and Max shoots him a glare as he pulls off, already thinking of which drink he's going to wash down the taste with.

"Cunts."

They can be weird and off putting and miserable together, Max doesn't care. It wasn't even that good anyways, and now he's not going to be able to look Oscar in the eye for a few weeks.

He stalks into the kitchen, passes Coulthard in the hallway, hopes he doesn't look too much like he just sucked off a retired driver in one of the lounge rooms.

Not that it would be surprising- Max had been freaked out the first time he was here, but he gets it now- it's like the Olympic Village. Redbull takes their hot, talented athletes, sticks them in a resort for a week, and lets them fuck like rabbits in the hopes of avoiding sex related PR crisis for the rest of the year.

It works pretty well.

He's checking for gin, fingers dancing over bottle caps, when a hand wraps around his waist, and Max knows that hand.

"Marc!"

He spins around, and then he has an armful of excitable MotoGP rider, hips pressing Max's into the counter while he's busy getting his tongue in his mouth.

Marc tastes like vodka and fireball, and Max wants to drink it straight from his system, wants to-

He pulls back for a second, meeting Marc's eyes. Marc is down for anything- Max loves that about him. The MotoGP guys know how to party.

"Do you want to do body shots and fuck on the pool table?"

Marc yanks his head back down to continue making out, one arm scrabbling behind Max for a familiar clink of a few bottles.

He pulls back to reach for some limes, and then he's grinning at Max, with his trademark brilliant smile.

"Yes!"

------

"Fuck- Marc, please, you are going to kill me-"

Max isn't used to being the one with his dick inside someone, but he's flat on his back on the table, and Marc is tight and hot and wet, sinking down onto Max, one hand braced on his chest as he grins at him.

Max tosses his head back onto the table, and his fingers are digging into Marc's thighs, corded muscle straining under his palms.

His mouth still tastes like lime and liquor, and he's pretty sure his neck is crusted with salt, and he's trying so hard not buck his hips up-

"You are so cute when you're trying to be good."

Max shudders, hands gripping tighter, and Marc is practically purring at him, because the game is that Max can't come first, and he was going to lose from the fucking start. They both knew it.

"Marc- Marc I'm gonna come, please please can I-"

Marc just shakes his head, eyes crinkled at the corner as he changes his pace on the next slide down, tight and irresistible. Max can feel himself shaking, closer and closer to the edge, and he squeezes his eyes shut, one last time-

Marc's fingers come down to pinch his nipples, and they're dripping with ice water, cold and freezing.

Max comes with a scream, back arching off the table, the sound of Marc's laughter ringing in his ears.

He's still riding the wave when Marc gets off of him, and then Max is being manhandled, rolled onto his chest as Marc knocks his knees apart. Everything is hot and cold and sensitive, and he's glad Daniel stretched him out earlier, because Marc pushes two fingers into him off the bat, scissoring Max open as he groans into the table.

"Aw, you are all loose. Whore."

Marc spits into him, and Max keens, scratchy fabric of the pool table rough against his chest, and then Marc is pushing in, splitting him wide, an endless press.

It's unfair for a man that small to be this hung.

Max is overwhelmed, slurring into the table as Marc snaps his hips in, and it's too soon from his last orgasm- he feels raw and peeled open, which is exactly when Marc leans over him, chest pressed to his back, and shoves three fingers and an ice cube into Max's mouth.

He bucks back onto Marc's cock at the sensation, the heat of his fingers and the chill of the ice, and he realizes what's next a second too late, squirming as Marc brings his other hand to wrap around his still soft cock, fingers ice cold.

"Ohhhhh, please, please-"

Marc nips at his back, and Max can feel him smiling at he starts to jack his hand, and it's too much- he feels too full, he's too raw and overwhelmed, he's pretty sure people are watching them-

Marc aims deliberately for his prostate, and Max is wailing, tips over into his second orgasm brutally, shaking to pieces underneath Marc.

He doesn't stop- his rhythm picks up, chasing his own pleasure- Max is limp, lets Marc use him however he wants, and he can't tell if it's seconds or minutes later when Marc snaps in for a final time, hips pressed flush against his ass.

Max slumps down as Marc pulls out, and then there's fingers gently patting at his cheek.

"You are as always very fun, Verstappen."

Max blinks, tries to get his brain started back up.

"Yup."

Marc giggles, and then he's gently kissing Max for a moment- he tastes like lime again.

"Thank you, you are very sweet- for being a slut."

Max half chokes on a laugh, because, well-

He kind of is. He's laid out on the pool table at what is technically a company event, and just tonight he's given multiple blowjobs, been fucked twice, and he's just come back to back.

It's a good thing they have mandatory testing before they get here.

"Anytime, Márquez."

[eliotquillon]

alex rider for the ask game :3

my favourite female character:

wow there’s just so many women in this series i can’t possibly choose! jk lmao.

for me it is sabina. my diva, my queen, the only character to consistently call alex on his shit and point out that for all his protests he keeps agreeing to do ‘one more mission’….i will never understand why people hate her (other than misogyny lmfao). i will forever be mad about that weird era of crocodile tears—never say die where ahorz turned her into a bit of a wet wipe because skeleton key/eagle strike sabina is so funny and headstrong and willing to give as good as she gets. i think she is one of the most realistic characters in the series (pun name aside) and her refusing to believe alex in eagle strike doesn’t make her evil or a fake friend…it makes her a teenage girl who was being gaslit by an intelligence agency. from sabina’s perspective the story is basically a horror movie: her best friend is being blackmailed and forced into putting his life at risk over and over, and there’s nothing she can do. there was never anything she could do. he chose danger and adventure over wanting to stay safe with her and her family and there was never any point in trying to change his mind because he is always going to be a little bit out of reach. i love her, and i think she balances alex out so well. forever mad that the tv adaptation didn’t have the foresight to realise that introducing kyra (who i love btw don’t get it twisted) and keeping her as a series regular was going to create some balancing issues with sabina, so they just turned tv sabina into a spineless caricature of all her worst traits because they didn’t need to worry about making her likeable like they did with kyra. book sabina i will love you forever.

my favourite male character:

am i allowed to say ‘the ghost of john rider that is perpetually haunting the narrative’. because to be clear it is the ghost of john rider that is perpetually haunting the narrative.

in all seriousness this is so difficult…i genuinely do love whatever the fuck is going on with the unreliable portrait of john that gets drawn throughout the series, but given that his only real appearance is in russian roulette (a book so filled with continuity errors/unreliable narration that for my own sanity i HAVE to assume that yassen is deliberately lying in at least parts of it) i don’t know if he sincerely counts as a ‘character’. although for what it’s worth i do fundamentally think that whoever john really was, he wasn’t a cut and dry ‘good person’ like we keep being TOLD to believe (too much contradiction going on with him for that).

it’s probably either general sarov OR alex himself. general sarov is cut and dry my favourite villain, is in my favourite book, and i could talk about his decision to shoot himself instead of alex (when sarov was 100% on the edge of victory!) forever. he’s such a tragic figure and i always find myself wishing that we’d gotten more villains like him…characters who genuinely weren’t cut-and-dry evil, whose motivations were actually kind of reasonable apart from the fact that the endgame/means to get to it were all wrong. but since i’m probably gonna talk a lot about skeleton key anyway i’ll put a pin in that. ALEX in the meantime…i love him so much. i love his smug one-liners, i love his fits of bad temper, i love that he never does what he’s told. and i also love how wistful he is. there’s a lot of moments, especially in the earlier books, where it’s clear that alex was actually already pretty fucked up from the simple fact of not knowing his parents. he’s been grappling with that big gnawing question of ‘who am i, really’ for a long time. he has so much guilt and shame. killing is for grown-ups and he’s still a child. i never really got into any of the other ‘teen spy’ novels when i was a kid and i think the reason why i latched onto alex rider specifically is because he is such a good protagonist. as an adult he is still so interesting because it becomes so much clearer how scared and insecure he is a lot of the time. i love him.

my favourite book/season/etc:

my fave season of the show is s1 fyi. ANYWAY.

as previously mentioned my fave book in the series is skeleton key. it is so many things. it’s a coming of age story. it’s a reverse whodunnit. it’s a story about grief. it is so, so uniquely of its time. alex continuously tries and fails at playing happy families (the pleasures, troy and turner, sarov) and never quite hits any of the right notes in any of them because he doesn’t know what it would look like. sarov would rather burn the world than admit that he sent his son to die in a useless proxy war and that it was his fault. it is the last book that was published before the war on terror started in earnest. i know it doesn’t really add to any of the overarcing stuff going on (no scorpia and no rider family drama) and nor does it have many of the other popular elements of the series (again, no scorpia and no rider family, but also no k-unit, no yassen, no julius, barely any whump, alex is basically beaten fair and square by sarov at every term) so i know this is probably an unpopular opinion. but there’s something so gentle about it. it’s so heartbreaking. it’s the point of no return - this is the first time alex chooses to do mi6 a favour instead of strictly being blackmailed into it. sarov killing himself even though he’s on the precipice of victory just because alex has made it explicitly clear that he will never be his son, that he can’t ever really turn back the clock, just fucking guts me. i don’t think this is necessarily the best-constructed book in the series (scorpia is, objectively, the best IMO), but it is my favourite.

also the american edition is totally different to every other edition and features a completely different version of the cia scenes, primarily to make the special agents more sympathetic and less like they fucking hate a child. which is just so cool. i mean the censorship stuff isn’t cool but the difference in editions is fascinating.

my fave episode (if it’s a tv show):

i can’t remember if it’s ep7 or 8 of season 3 but the tv show’s take on what happened at albert bridge. that episode. it was so, so good. i cannot imagine a better way to film it. i loved the interspersing of present with past and they cast john rider SO fucking well. i have a lot of mixed feelings about season 3 (i thought the decision to veer right back into being very book accurate after doing a pretty good job of making it explicitly clear that this was a retelling/its own distinct spin was…confusing) but that episode was perfect. i also really like s1ep8 (because i’m obsessed with kyra).

my fave cast member:

if we’re talking about the show again: marli siu as kyra. she is so fucking cool. and also adding kyra to the show, for all it opened up a can of worms, was the best thing guy burt ever did. i adore kyra so much.

if we’re using cast member to mean ‘recurring main character who isn’t one of my two named favourites’: i have a bit of a soft spot for crawley. i have no idea why, but something about him consistently being described as looking like a second-rate private school teacher forever tickles me. he’s just some guy but he cracks me up for some reason.

my favourite ship:

across the whole AR multiverse of madness, it is probably alex/kyra. i blame them for my sudden het ship renaissance tbh. i was rooting for them like i have never rooted for any heterosexual couple before (although arguably neither of them are het LOL). i think i fainted when they finally kissed in s3.

but if we’re doing book-only (since most of my answers have skewed that way)…hmm. i think i will have a forever fondness for sabina and alex’s invisible string thing they have going on. not friends not lovers but a secret third thing. i also like the toxic yaoi of john/yassen a lot because the fuck is going on THERE. i don’t fuck with alex/yassen because it personally icks me, but like i very much see the vision of yassen recreating the dynamic he had with john but with alex (and the roles reversed). john/yassen most toxic mentorship of all time spread the word.

a character i’d die defending:

sabina pleasure lol. i have in fact made some very snippy posts in the past because like…listen. obviously you are allowed to dislike her. you can dislike any character for any reason. but she has been DISPROPORTIONATELY hated on by the AR fandom. it is pure misogyny. her existence is not ‘getting in the way’ of making any other alex ship canon because sabina/alex isn’t even canon! claiming you dislike her because of ahorz’s bad/inconsistent writing is fair but you cannot say that and then, at the same time, praise the likes of ben daniels (whose identity has been swapped multiple times as a result of bad writing) as your fave character. she reacts badly to the truth in eagle strike but this was not her fault! she was being gaslit! if alex forgave her then i think maybe the fandom can let this go! she is one of the only shreds of normality left in his life and one of her chief functions is to call out alex’s shit and serve as a reality check to him. she did nothing wrong for REAL!!

a character i just can’t sympathise with:

i think it goes without saying that we’re not really meant to sympathise with a lot of these characters, so let me be controversial: mrs jones!!!!

like listen. i’m sorry to hear your kids got kidnapped yeah i actually am like obviously i’m gonna be upset about that innit yeah and tulip you know the only thing is yeah is that no-one can force me to be your mate or anything yeah and i don’t want to be mates wiv you alright? i know mrs jones is meant to be the ‘softer’ option to blunt. i know we are meant to believe, especially in the reboots, that she is better than him. but she isn’t. she talks a big game about how making alex work for them is wrong and that she’s against it, but she is never willing to put her money where her mouth is. she’s the one to goad alex into going to cairo in scorpia rising. in a lot of ways, i think her softer coating makes her a lot more insidious than blunt. this is one of the reasons i kind of went off the tv show towards the end: they made show!jones WAY too nice and sympathetic, and that’s just not who she is.

and don’t get it twisted: i think she’s fascinating. i love her character and her different faces are so, so interesting in a series that tends to stick women in the whore or mother box respectively. but i do not sympathise with her. i like her character, but i don’t like HER.

a character i grew to love:

am i allowed to say sabina again. because it is, genuinely, sabina. it took me YEARS to come around on her and then when i finally did it it was so worth it. but maybe i can’t say sabina for three different answers LOL.

this is genuinely a difficult question because there are a lot of characters in this series that i don’t LIKE but i LOVE in the sense that i find them interesting. i think jack has genuinely grown on me over the years, mostly as a result of the secret weapon short stories. it didn’t seem like it when i first read the series as a kid, but she’s so young, and she is functionally helpless—she wants to look after alex, but she’s an illegal immigrant with no blood relation to him, who at best is another way for mi6 to exploit him and at worst is a way for scorpia to exploit him. i have a lot more sympathy and respect for her now. and on a similar (yet wildly different) note: i hate ian rider, but he has slowly grown into the alex rider character i think about the most. what the fuck was up with him. what was up with him and john. did he know what he was doing when he raised alex to be a child soldier? is there a reason why yassen killed him but spared alex despite both of them being john’s blood relatives? i’m just so!!!

my anti otp:

sorry guys…it is yalex, i’m afraid. like i said: i can see the vision, but i can’t personally get past them meeting when alex is 14 and yassen is in his 30s. even in aus where they meet as adults i still get squicked out. honestly wish i could get over my aversion to it (at least a little) because i have read some FANTASTIC fics that had background yalex rumblings and i’m almost definitely depriving myself of a bunch of amazing fic by not really being willing to read anything where they’re at the forefront, but it’s just not for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[orionpolanosnox]

Yes!

My boss wants to FINALLY evict the troublemaker in our stable!

She was WAY too gracious with her for WAY too long! She came to us just last autumn.

Everyone knew about her baggage before she moved in and there was a lot of talk about it. She changed stables 7 times in 6 or 7 year which was a huge red flag for everyone. I still kept an open mind because sometimes people are just a little weird and want to find their place plus being the new person can be difficult if the others want you gone. Some stables are bad places because of the people there.

NOT the case here!

She is such a disrespectful, egocentric and wasteful person. It's INSANE! I have never met anyone with such a disregard for other people. Me, Me, Me and then My horse. That's all she cares about!

What would you do if someone with a 3 year old that wasn't worked in a week asked you to wait until she's on the horse before you canter? RIGHT! You are considerate! Well, she didn't care. And there are plenty such cases. We have an app where our people share/announce when they'll be in the indoor arena. People actively change their time and reschedule their fucking days to NOT be in the arena at the same time as her! She fucking writes people individually and tells them to not use the arena because she wants to use it. (WTF?!) She writes that she'll do flatwork but then does something entirely else and hinders everyone else. One evening she put cavaletti in the arena and just left them there and didn't even turn the lights off when she was finished. We (grooms and bosses) are usually gone by 7:30pm. A late bird discovered the state of the arena at 9:15pm and rightfully complaint about it in the group chat.

She KEEPS forgetting to put away her shit or just leaves her halter at the pasture leaving us with nothing in the morning. We still have her crop and she never fucking asked for it back?? I think she knows she fucked up at that point because there was a message every few days to PLEASE collect the equipment left in the arena. My boss was SO done with it that she gave us permission to outright throw everything in the bin we find in the morning. After I found literal garbage (a paper cup) plus a whip, reins and a lunge I was done. I took a picture and posted in the group chat that the owner can find their things next to the bin. (The lunge was never picked up. My colleague took it in the end.) But after that no stuff was left in the arena so the threat worked. Now she "only" throws her shit in front of her stall....

She is a bad rider too. She doesn't mistreat her horse or anything, she is just not good at it AT ALL. I don't even know why she brought her horse. They are such a bad match but she also doesn't work on herself to make anything better either. Not being a good rider isn't shame worthy and I wouldn't make or want a person to feel bad for it but this woman thinks she is the VERY best! Cream of the crop who knows EVERYTHING! She "teaches" a preteen girl who rides her pasture mates pony and I wish she wouldn't. She is such a fearful rider and you know these people that make shit up in the moment just to explain something that just happened? That's her. She is just constantly talking out of her ass.

She is wasteful because she keeps throwing away perfectly fine hay because she is just too lazy to separate it from the horse bedding. Her gelding has a whole bale on his winter pasture and she actually asked us to feed him hay once he is brought back to his stall in the afternoon. He never eats a lot of his breakfast served starting at 6am. He is of the kind that eats until he gets his muesli and then just waits to get outside. He is in his stall by 3pm and gets dinner at 6pm. We don't feed hay/haylage at noon and she knows that! But she wanted us to anyways because her horse has special needs. Spoiler: He doesn't! She just don't know anything and does him such a disservice with her constant pampering.

She put up a hay rack in her stall and we are supposed to ONLY put her horses hay in there but she kept stuffing it to the brim AND threw a bunch loosely in the stall until my boss tore her a new one. If she doesn't put it in the rack neither are we!

And because she thinks that she is SUCH an expert in fucking everything she offers her "services" to "advise" people about their horses diets online. Her credentials? She owned a horse for the past ten years so she knows what she's talking about. Obviously! The punchline here is that a colleague joked and essentially made fun of her TO HER FACE that she should offer her "wisdom" for money because she wouldn't stop commenting on the things people including this colleague fed their horses...

She always likes to annoy the others with her "worries" about their horses.

She seriously told a girl that we don't feed her horse in the evening anymore. Like??? WTF??

The owner of said horse started to pile up hay in her stall in the afternoon because of it. That said she isn't the brightest either... I'm surely no Einstein but that is what she does.... She picks on the weakest or most uninformed. She is sickly sweet and in a good mood at ALL times and has the confidence and presence to confidently spout her nonsense AND seem trustworthy to these very few. 95% hate her btw.

She started to write me directly at some point this autumn if she wanted something but since I told her off that NO, we won't feed your already VERY fed horse in the afternoon, she stopped and I am SO happy about it!

Finally I do wish her the best but she is SO resistant to ANY form of criticism that I don't think she'll change. Like at all. She only stayed so long with us because my bosses can be pushovers sometimes.

We are nice. We were nice! My bosses were TOO nice even! The staff gave her a fair chance but she didn't even try. She takes and takes and takes but doesn't want to offer anything ever. Neither to us and even less to her stable mates.

You will always have some difficult people in a place where 50+ people meet but jesus FUCKING christ I have never met a person less inclined to not piss off everyone and not to be as nosy and obnoxious as possible.

Worst part is that I don't even think she is able to register any of this. She KNOWS when she has fucked up yet again and it shows in her apologetic, defensive behaviour but she just doesn't do anything to better herself.

Joana, I wish you the best but good riddance!

[captain039]

PART 2 In plain sight

Aemond x niece!reader

Warnings: AOB, swearing, HOTD things, targcest, incest uncle/niece, tension, angst, smut, sexual things, reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter (specified brown hair), plus size reader, fat shaming, self esteem issues

Previous part <-

You need to leave this place as soon as possible. You won’t go back home, not yet anyway. You don’t want to deal with that yet, the looks from your brother, the conversations with your mother, the council men. You’re about to deliver wine to the small council room, the head servant not all too pleased to see you doing nothing. You tried to explain you were leaving to which she ignored, shoved the jug in your hand and forced you to the council room. Gods you wished to slap her stupid one day. You enter just as you hear the word ‘dragon’ shouted outside, a hard rushing in. A roar echoes over kings landing and you recognise the shape of Elea and her beautiful white wings as she flys over.

“That’s not one we know” Lord Larys says as Aemond lifts his head to you.

“It is” is all he says calmly and the jug shakes in your hand. You turn to leave rushing down the stairs handing one of the passing servants the jug without word. They’d kill Elea for flying here. You’re in a midst of panic heading to exit the jeep when a hand holds your elbow.

“Calm” you gulp softly at the prince, his voice thick as he speaks high Valyrian by your ear.

“No one will hurt your dragon get it to land” he says as you both walk to leave the keep. He drags you out the red keep and to some horses nearby and you freeze shaking your head. The prince frowns and tsks before he orders a carriage.

You’re alone in a carriage with the alpha prince regent. You want to open a window, anything.

“Why did you not arrive with your dragon in the first place?” He asks head tilted but you stay silent keeping your eyes on your hands which are clasped in your laps.

You hear Elea roar and another sound of a grumbling dragon as the carriage stop. You quickly get out and see Elea flying around frantically. You see movement in the marsh ahead seeing Vhagar lifting her up sensing her rider nearby. She lies back down though as you walk away from the carriage.

“Land Elea!” You call trying to find some space where she could. She thrills and chirps before she lands ungracefully. You sigh as she head butt’s your chest almost knocking you over before she rumbles low in her throat. You run your hand over her scales on her snout smiling a little that she came to get you. She’s breathing heavily while she makes an almost cat like purr sound before it turns into a dangerous growl. You turn to see the prince standing a few meters away, hand resting lazily on his sword.

“Calm Elea” you say.

“Take her back to the dragon pit, she’ll be fed and watered” the alpha prince says and you frown.

“She doesn’t know where it is” you say.

“You do” he narrows his eye.

“Why not kill me now?” You ask.

“Your dragon would burn me to ash” he says.

“Not if Vhagar’s here” you glare thinking to your little brother and his little dragon.

“Get on the dragon little niece” he says almost an order as he comes closer. Elea growls quietly where she stands but does nothing else.

“Home, go home Elea” you say but she snorts a huff angrily.

“She won’t” Aemond says almost amused.

“Do you wish to kill me or not uncle?” You snap turning to face him. Aemonds lip quirks up a little his one good eye staring you down. You curse silently looking away and closing your eyes to take a small breath.

“What you have done is classed treason against the crown” he says.

“Nobody knows who I am” you scoff a little.

“Do you truely think so?” He asks head tilted.

“I was never there or around as far as they knew, a rumour to be nursed by servants and maids” you look back to him biting the inside of your cheek.

“I knew” he says and you feel as if the air was sucked from your lungs.

“I always knew you were hiding little niece” his words make you falter and stutter, why is he toying with you.

“Wed to me and I won’t let any of this little secret get out” you stare at him blankly trying to repeat the words he has said.

“Marry you?” You ask.

“That is what I said” he says calmly.

“You are on my mother’s rightful throne we are enemies, what do I get out of this? What do you get out of this?” You sneer, eyes angry. You hate how calm he looks and acts, hate the calming scent he lets out, you hate how it eases your inner omega. Elea rumbles low in her throat gently nudging you with the tip of her nose.

“You get to be Queen, rule by my side like your mother couldn’t” your hand cracks across his face in a forceful slap, you don’t register moving.

“Do. Not. Talk about my mother that way” he holds his cheek with a small smirk.

“Now I could have your head” he says.

“Then do it!” You snap. His hand comes to your throat quickly and a shock of panic floods through you. You breathe shallowly while he breathes heavily, his face inches from yours. Elea growls behind you and you hear Vhagar amongst the bushes.

“Calm, Vhagar” Aemond calls to his dragon grumbling softly before he glances to Elea.

“Calm, Elea” you say as she lifts her head and lets out a roar but backs away.

“No one will believe you, I am a bastard, why would I want to show myself, I am not like mother or brothers I am not made by Targaryen standards, I am hideous” the words sting your throat, then your eyes and it’s too late to realise there are tears going down your cheeks. The prince alpha stares blankly, blinks a few times as he watches your tears. His grip loosens, almost a gentle hold.

“Is that what you really think little niece?” He asks his voice disbelieving as he frowns. His thumb swiped up catching a tear.

“Gods sake Aemond-“ you feel like you’re crashing against the earth after falling off a dragon.

“Marry you? It doesn’t benefit you or your bloodline, it taints it, ruins your claim to anything” you struggle with words and your breath. His scent has gone strange, the same calming pheromones with a tinge of whatever he’s feeling.

“My prince?” You hear the guard and gasp loudly before you step back from the alpha. You hold your throat and turn away. Elea thrills sadly pressing her head against you while you cry.

“Princess Y/n” the call is loud and you tense turning to the prince and the now confused guard.

“The princess’s dragon will reside in the dragon pit while she is here, make sure the dragon keepers have her fed and watered, set up a room for the princess before we return” the alpha prince speaks assertively to the guard who nods before bowing his head and leaving with the carriage.

“You’ve never ridden your dragon have you?” He asks approaching again and you wipe your eyes.

“No I haven’t” you mutter.

“Mount” he orders walking to Vhagars position.

“Prince Aemond!” You call but he ignores you.

You groan looking to Elea who lowers her body and neck down a little happy noise escaping her.

Vhagar is large, the largest dragon you’ve ever seen as she walks over heavily. Aemond sits high above her and you shudder a little. He watches you from atop of Vhagar and you glance to the saddle on Elea. You hang your head with your eyes closed, shaking it briefly with the internal battle you’re having. You curse softly, gather your skirts and climb.

Gods that’s a long way off the ground, you begin to shake a little as you position yourself on the saddle, cursing wearing skirts before strapping yourself and holding the two handles in front of you. Elea thrills, lifts her body up and you let out an involuntary yelp.

“Fly, Elea!” Aemond calls and Elea lets out a small roar before spreading her wings.

“Elea!” You yell but it’s too late, her large wings beat against the ground and you’re lifted off into the air. You close your eyes huddle yourself to the saddle and keep your head down as you feel Elea moving in the sky. Gods you might pass out.

Your stomach has dropped and your head is light but she soon slows her movements and begins to glide. You open your eyes staring at the saddle before looking out to her left wing seeing the clouds and sky. You quickly look back to the saddle though before you take a small breath and lift your body up. You regret it quickly seeing how high up you are before the wind rushes your face and a feeling of freedom hits you. Your body relaxes, your grip loosens as you look out to the sky and clouds. You laugh then. Looking at the sky’s vastness. You hear a roar behind you though and then seeing Vhagars large form behind you. You gulp a little as the large green dragon glides beside you, wing tip to wing tip with Elea, her rider looking to you. It’s a strange look one you can’t quite make out from the back of Elea but you look away. You look to the earth shuddering a little bit admiring the beauty of it. Vast land and trees. Elea roars her song before Vhagar joins also and another laugh leaves you and you look back to the prince a strange feeling rushing over you as he stares back too.

Next part ->

[batsplat]

love your aesthetic post! vale and jorge… truly another level of divas. i do appreciate it when riders are committed to being visually identifiable on track. curious about your thoughts on the ass patches as part of the aesthetic?

also iirc marc’s cartoon ant was designed by the same guy who did vale’s turtle + stuff (back when he was managing his merch), it used to be on his helmets when he first started motogp. rip cartoon ant… another victim of sepang 2015 😔

(aesthetic post) ass patches very cute distinctive motogp thing!! like the cheesy championship celebrations... or hand grabbing on cooldown laps... or how the leathers have weird humps and look deeply awkward to walk in but inexplicably motogp keeps making the riders shoot almost all the promo material in them... tbh motogp really did need valentino because the sport is just conceptually too fruity to be allowed to remain the reserve of the hyper masculine sphere. like it's a shame that it's still just heterosexual men riding those bikes - but at least it got that sorely needed injection of camp and fun. actually I should've mentioned the ass patches thing in the original post because of course that too is something valentino heavily influenced, concurrently with a similar evolution in motocross (x)

the camera thing is also funny and I kinda want them to keep doing it forever, just a very dumb motogp thing that adds to the specific quirky appeal of the sport. ik on this website they're appreciated as like. showcasing an attractive attribute of the male form. which obviously I personally have no real thoughts about but if they introduced dyke riders I think I'd probably be pro. idk I think they should have dyke riders

anyway on the cartoon ant thing. that does sound about right, I kinda suspected it might have been another casualty of sepang but did not want to spread Misinformation On The Internet and couldn't find a source. so. though I will say I also can't really remember seeing that ant on stuff 2013-15, idk in general it kinda feels like marc could've integrated it into more stuff. and if he didn't want a cutesy cartoon ant post-2015 fallout, he should've gotten himself another ant!! just ANY stylised ant. I feel like having an animal associated with you is such an easy slam dunk in terms of branding... acosta's doing a good job with it right now, like he's got a cute stylised shark and it's something you could reasonably see yourself buying merch for and it's just something fun they're associated with

in general I really am just pro riders having Things. I also think jorge's 'the martinator' thing very finely straddles the line between cringe and camp... and camp ofc in the truest sense is failed seriousness, like it's very campy in the disconnect between the attempted coolness and the profound silliness of what we are witnessing. idk part of the joy of motogp 2 me is watching vinales dress up as a gorilla between my fingers or hiding my face in my hands as pecco pulls out a guitar or sliding off my chair and hitting the mute button whenever marc starts dancing on podiums. the artifice and the performativity and the drama is what gives the sport life... it wouldn't be the same if it weren't so dumb

[tgrailwar-zero]

hey izou, this is a longshot, the longest shot of all longshots but, your summoning seems more stable so...do you have any weird dreams? dreams about fighting a caster and his shades in a church? or brawling with a rider who had no confidence? scolding a master for even thinking about alliances with rider in the middle of a war? fighting saber in the street at night? losing at gambling, coming home late, and nursing a horrible hangover? almost choking on bubble tea? killing a golden berserker in his own home? being trapped by a witch in a school with that rider we formed an alliance with? talking on the roof of a bar at night under the full moon?

He was quiet for a moment-- much longer than you'd expect for a yes or no question. Slightly, almost imperceptibly, his eyes narrowed- before he responded with a casual huff.

IZOU: "Servants can't dream. Anyways, we should get going."

DURYODHANA: "I see, well, that's a shame. I suppose the next time we meet, we'll be rivals. If you can impress the Boss, that is. Otherwise, have fun in the minor leagues."

KOMA: "...Koma should get going as well. Master Rikyu will be upset if I lose any more money at this gambling parlor. May we meet again."

With that, you, IZOU, and MUSASHI stepped outside, with NERO taking the Room Key to head back upstairs on her own. The cool, salty sea breeze chilled the air. Night had fallen quicker than you expected, though it wasn't too deep in the night to worry about shops closing- if they ever did close.

IZOU: "I'll get you signed up first. Then we'll take a walk around. We might be able to catch the person I'm lookin' for before she leaves for the night. Boss is hard to impress, but she's got a real eye for battle talent."

He walked you to what seemed like a large, arena-like building, leading you inside. It was quiet, astoundingly so as he looked around. He seemed frustrated, as you gathered the feeling that whoever he was looking to talk to wasn't here anymore before he suddenly exclaimed.

IZOU: "Ah-- caught her!"

He pointed at a woman leaving out one of the doors, jogging over.

IZOU: "Yo, Boss. Found some new blood!"

Turning to look at the 'Boss' in question--

That was JAGUAR MAN.

Sure, the aesthetic was different, but… that was her. You watched as she furrowed her brow, looking between you, MUSASHI, and IZOU.

MUSASHI: "Oh, hey! Long time, no see!"

JAGUAR MAN: "Tch. Well, ain't we friendly, Miss Fancy Pants?"

MUSASHI: "Uh, what?"

JAGUAR MAN: "It's late, Man-Kisser. This little kitty was on her way back home, not trying to fill out paperwork."

IZOU: "Man-Slayer, and I know, I know, but--"

JAGUAR MAN: "--Kissin' men, slayin' men, who cares? In this day and age they mean the same thing. You couldn't do this tomorrow morning like anyone else who felt like cutting it close? We already had one more late arrival, I don't wanna make this a habit."

IZOU: "C'mon, I'll owe ya' one. Promise. Just give 'em a look-over. I wouldn't just bring ya' some punk off the street."

There was a long moment of silence as JAGUAR MAN slowly paced around you three, looking up and down.

JAGUAR MAN: "Hm… well, just from looks alone, they seem like 'A+' competitors…"

She paused, before suddenly yelling--

JAGUAR MAN: "Meaning AMATEUR PLUS!"

JAGUAR MAN: "…"

JAGUAR MAN: "As in SLIGHTLY BETTER THAN AMATEURS!"

JAGUAR MAN: "..."

JAGUAR MAN: "As in--"

MUSASHI: "YEAH. WE GOT IT."

IZOU: "C'mon, Boss! Saber's good, I promise. She can handle the big leagues."

She tapped her naginata on the ground, pursing her lips as if she was in deep, intensive thought, red eyes boring into you and your Servant. She sighed, clicking her tongue.

JAGUAR MAN: "So, normally I'd toss you in the minor bracket, where you can just mess around with the would-be's and has-been's for a smaller pot… But, we've got an open spot in the major bracket. One of the fighters called in sick last-minute, caught a virus. But I'm not just giving it out to just anyone, I need the competitor to be someone that can fill seats. Someone with a story that'll capture the hearts and minds of viewers! We need ticket sales and thrilling fights, got it?"

She locked eyes with you.

JAGUAR MAN: "You're Miss Dual-Wielder's manager, right? Give me a backstory that'll sell seats, and I'll consider giving you this open spot in the main bracket with the big-leaguers. As long as you can afford the 400 PPT entrance fee."

MUSASHI: "I don't totally get what's going on, but... just tell her something she likes so we can get to the fighting part?"

[reincrimination]

stay the course ch. 2 | buddie

9-1-1 | eddie diaz x evan buckley

a buddie equestrian AU

cw: none!

chapter one <- you are here! -> chapter three

read on archive of our own!

“So, Buck, you’re not riding for the Martin family anymore?” The clatter of Buck almost dropping his steak knife is piercingly loud in the restaurant. Eddie feels like his breath has been stolen from him with the way Buck slowly turns his gaze onto Ramon, stormy eyes alight with something indignant. “Not since Kentucky,” Buck grits out. Clearly, Eddie is missing something, judging by how the Hans have all paused eating to observe the interaction with baited breath. “Shame,” Ramon sighs, turning back to his steak like he hadn’t just changed the tone of the entire evening.

The sun is properly setting by the time Eddie and his father are preparing to make their way downstairs to the hotel restaurant. His father has a room a few floors up from Eddie’s, blessedly, so Eddie is left to his own devices while he gets ready. He half-heartedly adjusts his hair in the mirror, but the humid London weather did not make his hair want to cooperate, so he surrenders. He looks fine enough, or so he thinks, but he knows his father will have his own critiques as soon as he sees him.

It’s a cool night, judging by the breeze leaking in from the window besides the lounge area in the room. The sky is dotted with dark clouds, wisps of gray darkening as the sky fully fades from blue to a fiery orange-red. Eddie opts for a blazer and a wool coat over his turtleneck, the familiar weight of the long jacket comforting even as the turtleneck itches at his jaw. He manages to get ready just in time to hear his father knock on the hotel door.

With a last look at his inviting bed and the calming sunset, Eddie makes his way down to the lobby with his father, who, as expected, smoothed down his coat and tried to fix his hair in the elevator, even as Eddie wiggled out from underneath his insistent touch. He sends Eddie to check on their reservation as he greets a business parter of some sort in the lobby, and Eddie takes the opportunity to duck away gratefully. Sighing as he steps into the dimly-lit restaurant, some of his hesitance about the night is chased away by the smell of good food and the clinking of glasses.

The hostess leads him to a back table that his father had, undoubtedly, requested. With a polite nod, she departs, and Eddie takes in the restaurant. The tables are a dark mahogany with elegant white cloths, wine glasses presumptively placed at each setting. A cluster of gold candle holders flicker, the flames dancing within them, and Eddie watches the shadows dance across the silverware with the elegance befitting of such a high class restaurant.

Eddie’s mouth tastes bitter as he is coldly reminded how little he belongs here.

He hears his father’s authoritative voice booming from the front of the restaurant, and stands in preparation to receive him and his guests. He’s looking forward to seeing who the Hans’ sponsored rider is; he needs someone to root for, since his father won’t let him pay attention to that Buck guy.

As the imposing figure of his father emerges from a cluster of waiters with a polite tip of his head, Eddie forces a smile to cross his face, praying to God he looks genuine and not like a puppet under the control of a hobbyist puppeteer. That’s how he always feels, anyways, his movements artificial and forced, like they’re not his own.

Before Badminton, he had managed to slip out from the long arm of his father during the time he spent in Los Angeles, building a life that had freed him from all the pomp and circumstance of his father’s daily life. Being thrust back into that life with short notice feels a bit like being suffocated.

The familiar, smiling face of Chimney allows Eddie to relax, his own smile becoming a little more genuine as he greets his friend for the second time that day. He and Chim take seats nex to each other, the Hans on Chimney’s right and Ramon on Eddie’s left. One seat remains at the circular table, its occupant not yet arrived.

“Did you order wine yet, Eddie?” his father asks as he picks up the drink menu, squinting as he reads. Despite being in London, the hotel is catered towards Americans, and is essentially a steakhouse.

“No, I wanted to wait and see what their rider would prefer,” Eddie lies easily, the words slipping off his tongue like oil. “Will he be arriving soon?”

At that, the senior Han nods at the crowd, and Eddie twists in his seat to get a look. He takes in his outfit first, a touch under-dressed considering the company in just beige pants and a rich, dark green sweater. The knitted material looks far more comfortable than Eddie’s turtleneck, so he can’t fault him, not when the green looks so good against his complexion.

Thank God Eddie is practiced at controlling his expressions, or else he might offend his father with how his mouth would have fallen open upon seeing a head of familiar blonde hair on the head of the rider making his way towards their table. Buck looks as uncomfortable as Eddie feels, but hides it poorly, his eyes flicking around the room and hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Chimney and his father both stand to greet Buck, and Eddie chances a glance at his own father, whose jaw is twitching with how hard it is clenched. He turns his steely gaze onto his son and raises his brows once as if to say, Would you look at that?

His father’s frustration inspires a bout of guilty giddiness in Eddie, and he gives Buck the most welcoming smile he can muster as the latter takes the last seat at the table.

“All, this is the lovely boy riding our dear Saint Florian this year. I’m sure you recognize him.” The Hans look nothing but proud as they introduce the boy, and Chimney’s mother has even laid a dainty hand on Buck’s shoulder as if to comfort him in the presence of Ramon Diaz’s judgemental gaze.

“Certainly,” Ramon finally says, breaking his stare to lean over just enough to shake Buck’s hand. Eddie notes how quickly his father releases his grip and clenches his hand into a fist, as if affronted at the very thought of touching him. “Buck, you call yourself, still?”

“Yes, sir,” Buck grimaces. “You can call me Evan, if you prefer.”

“No, nonsense,” Chimney’s father, Sang, chuckles. “It’s Buck. It’s going to be a household name soon. It’s stuck so long, there’s no need to change it now.”

“Stuck so long?” Eddie queries, looking between Buck and Chim like they’re in on a secret that Eddie doesn’t know about.

“Oh, Eddie, this is the Evan I’ve told you about. We grew up together too.” Chimney explains, reaching up to itch at the collar of his burgundy button-up. The scratch of his beard is barely audible over the clink of silverware as the table beside them is served their meal. “We did pony hunters together. That’s where our nicknames came from.”

Of course, it makes sense now. Eddie had known that Chimney had ridden horses competitively as a child, and that his best friend had been a boy about Eddie’s age. He’d explained on a few trips to the country club, over a decade ago now, that he and Buck had come up with their own nicknames for each other, as two kids lapping the warm-up arena for the fifth time together might have been prone to do. Both had stuck, to Eddie’s father’s apparent dismay. At this point, Eddie would have a hard time calling on Chimney’s real name- it had been years since he’d even thought about the fact that he only knew his friend by his nickname.

Eddie occupies himself by pondering over the rationale behind Chim’s nickname. The dinner is insufferably formal, and if one more waiter calls him sir he might spill his wine all over their pristine white tablecloths. He and his friends let the adults- well, they’re adults too, just not in this company- discuss the thrills of the stock market, whatever bets they had privately placed on Badminton placements and Olympic hopefuls, and the intricacies of helping their companies pass an internal audit. It seems they notice how they’re not only boring their respective sons, but also their guest, and Ramon is actually the one to change the path of conversation.

“So, Buck, you’re not riding for the Martin family anymore?”

The clatter of Buck almost dropping his steak knife is piercingly loud in the restaurant. Eddie feels like his breath has been stolen from him with the way Buck slowly turns his gaze onto Ramon, stormy eyes alight with something indignant.

“Not since Kentucky,” Buck grits out. Clearly, Eddie is missing something, judging by how the Hans have all paused eating to observe the interaction with baited breath.

“Shame,” Ramon sighs, turning back to his steak like he hadn’t just changed the tone of the entire evening.

No one speaks, for a moment. Eddie swallows thickly, washing down his residual discomfort with a large swig of wine, which earns him a twitch of his father’s brow. Then, Buck is the one to break the silence, turning to Eddie with a much kinder expression than the one he had leveled on his father.

“So, Eddie, is this your first time watching Badminton?” Buck questions, picking at the last pieces of his own steak, and watching Eddie through slightly narrowed eyes. His lashes are long and blonde, Eddie notes, and they shade his beautiful blue-gray eyes. There’s a purple-red birthmark above his left eyebrow, which Eddie thinks is a lot prettier than it has any right to be.

“It is. I, uh, I’ve got to admit, I know nothing about horses.”

“Nonsense!” Ramon cuts in. “You went to the racetrack with me all the time as a kid.”

God forbid he be seen as anything other than all knowledgeable and cultured in front of the eyes of a competing family, the Hans. Some would call the two families friends, but not Ramon Diaz. Everything is a calculated move, a business opportunity in his eyes. Eddie thinks the air chills, even as the candles burn brightly in the middle of the table.

Buck ignores the butting in from Ramon and instead says, “I’d be happy to teach you. Maybe I can show you around the grounds before the event starts.”

Regardless of how uninterested Eddie may have been before now, and had it been any other rider offering, Buck’s offer quickly becomes irrefutable. Not only is it time away from his father, but it’s time with who he thinks is the most attractive guy he’s seen since he moved back to Texas. Maybe since before, too.

“I’d love that,” Eddie says, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out how it does, all soft and pleased. He’s been with Buck for an hour and he’s already breaking the carefully practiced, if not a bit rusty, mannerisms that Eddie’s father had spent his son’s entire life training into him.

“Great. I’ll get your number before we go and we can… set something up.”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up at the very obvious undertone of that message. It’s clear that the blatant flirting in front of his father is a bit of a lash back after the pointed jab Ramon had thrown. Eddie isn’t sure if he is just a pawn in Buck’s revenge plan, or if it’s just an avenue for his genuine interest to take. With the way that Buck is still holding eye contact with Eddie, and the way his lips have curled into a bit of a smirk the longer Eddie returns his gaze, he’s beginning to feel like it may be the latter.

It’s the Hans’ turn to change the conversation, finally getting Eddie to break the tense but not unfriendly eye contact he’d found himself sucked into.

“That’s great, you can introduce him to Florian and he can brag about meeting the winning horse of Badminton… after that happens, of course,” Sang Han jests with a little smirk, looking between the two men. “Buck has been bringing Florian along wonderfully these last few months.”

“And carefully, I’d presume.” Ramon can’t resist chipping in again with a targeted attack. An attack on what, Eddie doesn’t know, but there’s clearly some bad blood between Buck and the Martin family, and Ramon is taking advantage of that to unsettle the young rider.

Buck smiles contentedly, taking his time sipping his wine before replying. He’s more steeled this time, and barely even sets his glass down too hard. Eddie watches the thick red liquid slosh, and feels a prickle of nervousness at the back of his neck. For once, he’s glad the turtleneck is hugging him so tightly. It feels like armor.

“Florian is a fantastic stallion,” Buck confirms, his smile turning fond. “He’s the best parter I could ask for, after everything.”

Chimney nods solemnly, and Mrs. Han pats Buck on the shoulder again. Eddie looks between Buck and Chimney, trying to broadcast his confusion with his eyes. Whether or not they notice, Eddie doesn’t know, but he’s left to stew in his confusion.

“You’re welcome to come watch us in the Dressage competition tomorrow,” Buck continues, glancing at Eddie’s father, whose jaw is still impossibly tight. “He’s a big mover, but I think his one Tempis will be a crowd-pleaser. Just wait until you see him out on cross country, though. Never been a braver horse.”

His eyes seem to challenge the older man, the way he enunciates “cross country” pointed. Eddie’s knee begins to bounce and he sets his hands in his lap so he can lace and squeeze his own fingers.

“You’re gunning for gold, then, I presume?” Ramon asks, the first question of the night that doesn’t have the undertone of a finely-sharpened dagger.

“As much as anyone, but this is mostly about getting Francis some experience. Besides, Kelly’s probably got this year in the bag. This is her, what, sixth Badminton?”

That satisfies Ramon, who is about to brag about his connection to Taylor Kelly, but Buck continues, now looking at Eddie. “I’m sure your proud of your rider.”

“As much as anyone,” he parrots. “So, you’re just trying to… have a good time?”

The Hans nod for him, and Eddie doesn’t miss the way that Buck shifts a bit in his seat. “Yeah, basically. Have a good ride, put in some clean rounds, and get some attention from potential buyers.”

“He’s humble,” Sang Han huffs. “They’re going to take a place on the podium.”

However, Ramon’s attention was piqued by Buck’s last sentence. Chewing his bite of steak thoughtfully, he carefully dabs his mouth with the cloth napkin before asking, “You’re selling Francis?”

“As you’d say, anything’s for sale for the right price,” Sang Han chuckles heartily. “You buying?”

Buck’s face pales, his birthmark suddenly much more contrasted as his complexion whitens. Eddie’s stomach twists at the raw fear on Buck’s face. He knows his father is bad, but Is his interest in Buck’s horse enough to inspire that much of a reaction?

“For the right price,” Ramon jests, thinking he’s hysterical when his comment gets a polite giggle from Chimney’s stepmother.

Buck pushes his plate back and finishes the last of his wine, looking like he’s preparing to excuse himself. Chimney mirrors his actions, and before Eddie can think too hard, he does, too, downing the last of his wine and tossing his napkin onto the table.

“Going somewhere?” Ramon queries, looking from Buck to Eddie to Chimney with raised eyebrows.

Buck doesn’t have an answer prepared, nor does Eddie, but as usual, Chimney saves the day by saying, “We were going to get some drinks at the hotel bar, leave you to talk business.”

“Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mr. Han,” Buck says with a small smile, before nodding at Ramon, and making his way out of the restaurant.

Eddie fails to bid goodbye to his father in his haste to follow the others, but Chimney and Buck are a few strides ahead already. He slows his pace when he hears the steady tone of Chimney’s voice over the chatter of the restaurant, his hand high on Buck’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Hey, don’t worry, I won’t let them sell Francis to the Diazes,” Eddie overhears Chimney say. That uneasy feeling in his stomach twists even more, reaching up into his chest with sticky tendrils. He feels responsible- the Diazes, not just his father. He’s one of them, he always will be, no matter how hard he tries to distance himself. Not like he’d gotten very far, anyways, he reflects.

Eddie quickens his stride, then, falling into step beside the pair, who almost look surprised to see that he’s joined them. “I’m sorry about my father. He’s…”

“A dick.” Buck shakes his head, gaze cast on the ground as they make their way across the lobby.

The tall, carved marble ceilings make Eddie feel even more insignificant than before, especially when the golden lanterns cast harsh shadows onto Buck’s stricken expression. He wants to reach out and soothe him, to make promises he can’t keep.

“I’ll talk him out of it,” Eddie continues. “Tell him a horse from Kelly’s family is better for appearances.”

That seems to pacify Buck a bit, who looks up to give Eddie a grateful smile before the three of them enter the bar. The night is young, so the bar is almost empty, and they take the first three seats they see.

Eddie shrugs off his coats, the more stuffy air of the warm room making his skin heat a bit underneath the layers. He carefully tucks them over the back of his tall chair and turns around in time to order a Manhattan from the bartender. He notices Buck’s gaze on him, passive and searching, not nearly as intense and defensive as it had been in the restaurant. He’s about to say something, when Buck turns and orders some fruity-sounding cocktail from the bar.

“What, the wine didn’t really do it for you?” Eddie asks rhetorically.

Buck huffs a little laugh as his drink is set down in front of him, pineapple and strawberries decorating the glass. A little umbrella sticks out of the pink slushie- it was a frozen margarita. Chimney orders a beer, and some fries, and Eddie feels a bit like his father, nursing a very preppy drink in the company of far more relaxed options. Truth be told, he would enjoy a frozen margarita, or a beer, much more than a Manhattan, but those were not sophisticated enough drinks for a Diaz to order, according to his father.

Eddie’s gaze lingered on the margarita in front of Buck, who notices, and offers the glass to Eddie with an unreadable expression. After a moment’s consideration, he accepts, and feels the chill of the glass sinking into his fingers immediately. He holds eye contact with Buck as he takes a small sip from the straw, and then another, as he realizes it’s pretty good.

When the blonde takes his drink back, he sips from the same straw that Eddie had, his lips closing around it as the cold of the drink causes an icy sheen to form on the outside of the glass. In the dim light of the bar, Buck’s eyes look even glossier and prettier than before.

Eddie nearly forgot that Chimney was there, and clears his throat before taking a big sip of his own Manhattan to try and cool the heat spreading across his face that he is sure is not from the margarita.

“Tropical margarita,” Buck says. “Good, yeah?”

“I never got the taste for fruity drinks,” Chimney buts in, saving Eddie from coming up with a coherent answer, which is impossible when Buck is still looking at him like a puzzle he wants to solve. He wonders if he’s been that obvious all night, if that’s the reason for Buck’s brevity, or if the atmosphere of the bar is just getting to them. It’s too early to blame it on intoxication.

It’s probably just wishful thinking, but Eddie is starting to feel lighter by the end of his second drink. It’s easy to just keep sipping Manhattan after Manhattan, even if he still feels like a boring, posh asshole, and he revels in the feeling of ease that has come over the three of them. Their conversation is shallow and pointless, mostly just filling in the silence as they take the time to themselves, away from not only the prying eyes of the press, but also the judging eyes of their families.

Eddie’s neck aches from the tension he’s held in it all night- all month, to be honest, ever since he’d come home to Texas. He suddenly sharply missed Los Angeles. He had never understood the sense of wanderlust that youths in movies he’d seen as a kid had been infected with, but maybe wanderlust is just second to the need to get out, to be anywhere other than home. Right now, he’d take his two-bedroom Los Angeles house in desperate need of renovation over the idea of going home with his father at the end of the trials.

But, of course, there was Chris. The two of them were now permanently tied to Ramon. The older Diaz had rambled on and on about how important family was, now that Chris’s mother had walked out, and while Eddie detested his father, he loved his Abuela, and he knew that Chris needed a strong female figure in his life, even if that couldn’t be his own mother. For the sake of Chris, Eddie told himself, he would suffer being back under his father’s wings.

“Where’s home, Buck?” Eddie asks at the next lull in conversation. “I’ve gotta catch up; I know nothing about you.”

“You have plenty of time to learn,” Buck says quickly. “California. I rent a studio in Pasadena.”

“Really?” Eddie leans forward, bracing his elbows on the bar. “I used to live in LA. Until… three weeks ago. Chim, I didn’t know your family moved to LA.”

“We did a few years ago. I didn’t know you were there, either. We keep our horses at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center,” Chimney fills in. “Buck and I ride together when we can, and it’s nice to have a lot of schooling shows right at home.”

The terminology is a little lost on Eddie, which is apparently clear, because Buck takes pity on him and explains, “Smaller shows that we can practice at, where nothing much is at stake.”

“Oh, so just like Badminton.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buck chuckles. The margaritas have gotten to him a bit, the tip of his nose reddening as he looks on at Eddie. Eddie wants to kiss it, he thinks, and if he were a bit more emboldened, had a few more Manhattans, he just might have.

[inoankin]

Rodeo Tricks (scrapped)

i think i might be incapable of writing smut, because i keep trying and getting stuck just before it gets good. no clue what that's about but. okay.

ANYWAYS. this has been lying in my drafts. it's kind of a newer one in comparison, but it's been long enough since i've touched it that i'm pretty sure it's never getting finished.

enjoy :)

______________

The day is bright and warm with spring in Tulare County. Leo watches Vincent’s back shift in rhythm with his percheron’s slow, steady steps as a breeze combs through the valley. He’s been quiet, so far. Just leading them along an invisible, winding path through hills springing with golden poppies. Leo doesn’t mind too much. He hasn’t exactly known the man for long, but he’s well-enough acquainted to know he’ll speak when he needs to; as it is, he’s contented enough to watch the rocking of his hips in that sturdy Mexican saddle.

They ride for a while longer before Vincent pulls Belle to a stop beside a brook, in a relatively flat clearing. He peers at Leo as he stops beside him, a quiet smile on his lips. “Fancy yourself a showman, cowboy?”

A raised brow. “I don’t see no fuckin’ broncos out here, if that’s what you mean.”

“What, no rodeo tricks?”

“None that you ain’t already seen. ‘S not like we got time to train for that kind’a thing. We got jobs to do.” 

Kalahari snorts as if to agree. Vincent clicks his tongue, more as a response than a command, but Belle starts forward, and he has to pull back gently on the reins to stop her again. Leo does not laugh.

“Real shame. I thought you might have saved something special, just for me.”

“Tell you what, granjero: we ever come back ‘round here again, and I will.”

“Always the charmer.” Vincent then directs his horse across the brook and strolls farther into the valley, his back to him once again. Leo follows. “You ever wrestle steer?”

“Well, sure. Been a while, though.”

“You remember how?”

“The basics.” He taps his heels into Kalahari’s sides and comes up to walk beside Vincent, frowning curiously. “What’s all this about?”

“I figure you could put on one performance for me, if it ain’t too much trouble.”

With a confused look, he gestures around. “With what steer?”

There’s a certain glimmer in Vincent’s eye when he meets Leo’s gaze, tightening his hold on the reins. “You can do with a substitute, can’t you?”

Through his teeth, he throws a whistle sharp enough to kill, and in the next moment he’s gone, carried on the wind. Leo blinks a few times before it clicks. The cheeky bastard. 

He kicks into his horse’s sides and they race after him. Vincent is but a spot of brown and grey among miles of green and gold. From the distance comes a joyous shouting, though he has no idea what he’s saying over the roar of wind in his ears. Hais Stetson tries to fly away, so he pulls it off and slaps it on Kalahari’s thigh to urge him on.

It’s not long before he’s close enough to hear Vincent’s laughter floating on the breeze. Leo tries to get on his right side, but swears when he darts to the left. Yanks the reins to keep up. Belle is surprisingly agile for a draft horse, her rider equally deft for a farmer; but if Leo knows anything, it’s how to out-maneuver a slippery bastard, steer or otherwise. So he tightens his jaw and picks up the pace. Vincent’s quick but he knows he’s quicker. The only issue is trapping him. Rock and a hard place, or so it goes. 

They get up and stick to Belle’s haunches, and surprisingly, Vincent allows it. He laughs like nothing in the world. Leo answers in kind. The glen is just a blur to his senses as they gallop on.

And suddenly he’s there, staring him in the face. Vincent only grins. This has got to be the stupidest idea he’s ever had.

Leo leaps. 

He’s not sure who it is that yelps, or if it even matters. The impact of the ground jars them both, but they have no time to gather their bearings before they’re tumbling, rolling over the grass and the poppies. He reaches out to take hold of whatever he can, which turns out to be a wrist as they come to a stop. Vincent twists and kicks, bucks like a bronco. Leo wrestles them around and forces him flat on the ground, finding his other wrist and pinning them both above his head.

Vincent blinks, his eyes wide and chest heaving. Leo grins. “You’re lucky I left my lariat with the coach.”

“Is that so?” He says, sounding positively breathless.

There it is — that helpless, almost bashful look he got when he caught Leo’s eye yesterday evening. He’d offered him a drink and told him about the grain farm he labors with his brother, and Leo had told him about the other vaqueros he works with on Five Lakes Ranch a few towns farther south. They stayed and drank until the barman kicked them out. Vincent had looked at him with a quietly fond expression from atop his percheron that night, before he’d headed home. And just a few hours ago, something more hopeful as he invited Leo out for a ride.

He releases Vincent’s hands and sits up on his hips, considering the man under him. 

“You wanted this to happen.”

“Clever guy,” he pants. “Or am I just that obvious?”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ obvious, granjero.”

“I guess I’ll have to find subtler tactics.” He reaches up, then, which Leo doesn’t expect, but allows. Finds a loose grip in the front of his shirt and pulls him down, all doe-eyed and cautious in that reserved way of his. Leo plants his hands on the grass either side of his head. A golden flower crumples beneath his thumb. “May I—?”

“Yes.”

And then he does. 

Vincent’s mouth is already open when they connect. His lips taste like Vaseline and his tongue tastes like oranges. Stubble prickles Leo’s palm as it glides up his throat to hold his jaw, a small sigh escaping Vincent as it does. When they pull apart, he’s even more breathless than before, staring up at him with flushed cheeks and an awed expression. Leo tries not to laugh.

“That’s…”

He quirks a brow. “Good?”

A nod. “Yeah.” Vincent’s eyes dart around his face, searching for something as his brows slowly pull together. “And you’re…”

“Fantastic?”

Leo expects a laugh, or a smile, or something, but all he gets is silence as Vincent lies there and studies him, like he’s trying to find God in the work-worn lines of his face. He stares long enough that he starts to worry that was somehow the wrong thing to say, until he sits up, forcing Leo to move back and give him space.

“Leaving.”

Oh. Right.

Him and the rest of the cattlemen are leaving in the evening. Packing up and heading home. Of course, he’d like to go home; but there’s also this, here, now, and it’s making Vincent upset, and that’s the last thing he wants. He just kissed the man, for fuck’s sake. He can’t leave it there without some kind of conversation, at the very least — which is impressive, coming from him. Harv would be proud. Problem is, he hasn’t got the first clue what to say, how to make this not such a bad thing. He has to leave. Vincent is upset. 

“It doesn’t— I mean, you make it sound so final, but we could— it’s not like I just… you… um. Hola.”

Leo’s train of thought comes to a stop as Vincent grips his shoulder and guides him around until he’s sitting on the grass, fitting himself neatly, perfectly, on Leo’s lap, without so much as asking. They’re close again, breathing the same breath, and he’s all flushed with this half-unsure, half-wanting look as he just hovers there. Like he’s not completely certain what to do now that he’s gotten himself here.

“Howdy,” he says as he continues to study his face, though it seems more now like he’s committing it to memory. “Figured we best… well, make the best of it. Right?”

“We can come back around. This isn’t— it doesn’t have to be forever.”

“I know. I know. But you are leaving. And I won’t see you. And I want…”

A warmth blooms in Leo’s chest as he trails off. The words don’t need to be said, not really. Still, he wants to hear them. 

“What do you want, Vincent?”

The distance between them closes. It’s not much more than a peck, though Vincent lingers on his lips as if that alone will answer the question. A man of few words, or so he tries to be. And after a moment, he pulls away. Goes back to studying him. Not that he minds the attention. If there would be one reason to stay, it would be to lie under that calculating gaze for the rest of his days. And, shit, he’s not gonna think about the implications of that. 

Vincent thumbs absently at the collar of Leo’s shirt and finally focuses on his eyes. “I want you. If I can have you. If you’ll let me.”

It sounds almost like he’s asking a different question, though Leo would probably say ‘yes’ to whatever came out of his mouth, proposition or otherwise.

“I think I can do that,” he says, unable to stop the lopsided smile that pulls at his lips. He gets a bright smile in return, and that’s all it takes.

This time, he pulls Vincent down, pushing eagerly into the heat of his mouth. Vincent opens up easily.

fin.

[pricemarshfield]

For the DA world state asks: 10 for your warden, 4 for your hawke, and 5 for your inquisitor?

hiii sorry it’s been a while since you sent this, my tumblr notifications are profoundly broken. BUT anyway

10. are they good horse riders?

lyna is absolutely Not. i think she defaults to treating them like halla, and is baffled when they don’t respond in the same way. she gets shit done quick enough not to need to learn. (now for a GRIFFON? she’d adjust accordingly.)

4. attitude towards andrastianism?

i think marian is andrastian but not like. seriously. she certainly can’t be assed about the chantry as an institution, even before the end of da2, and i doubt she’s got more than a verse or two of the chant memorized. she doesn’t believe in a way that would hold up to her own scrutiny, but she also doesn’t care enough to bother scrutinizing in the first place. also she’s a blood mage so like clearly the chant is not guiding her behavior so much

5. attitude towards the chantry?

oh, evelyn adores the chantry. a way to do good in the maker’s name, all across thedas! hm? no, of course her motives aren’t political. she definitely REALLY believes she’s andraste’s herald, and it isn’t just for optics’ sake. she’s so relieved to be officially part of the chantry now—oh, stop that, it has nothing to do with her close friend being instituted as divine. she’s a holy woman! (tldr she loves it, because she’s a politician who had to give up her noble inheritance when her magic came in, and this works far better. it’s only a shame they wouldn’t name her divine directly.)

[crisalidaseason]

Twenty-first entry:  Life debts and loyalty.

I always thought you owe loyalty to the ones who saved your life. I owe Xaden mine and Sloane’s for eternity, what else can I offer if not my full loyalty and respect? I thought I had this figured out, but…something I’ve been struggling to learn is that loyalty can’t be blind to mistakes.

****

“How was your sleep?”

Liam took the pain tincture from the handsome healer’s hand, drinking it at once before the acrid taste could linger. “Good enough, despite the loud thunder”

The man smiled at Liam politely “And the pain?”

“Mostly gone, thanks to you”

Though mending was painful and he could feel the faint scar sting every now and then, it was better than having to deal with stitches and ointments.

“Just doing what I’m supposed to. Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary ache? Numbness, burning or pulling sensation?”

Liam denied it with a head movement.

“Great, I believe you are ready to be discharged” the nurse announced while gathering all his supplies “I just need to finish the paperwork, just wait a few minutes”

“You’re the healer” Liam replied with a slight wink “I’m at your mercy”

The healer rolled his eyes, but the smile did not fade while he walked away. Liam laid back on the bed, waiting patiently and watching as the early morning sun continued to invade the windows of the infirmary. It was still wild to think he had lived to see one more sunrise, but he felt grateful anyways, even with the shame and guilt still rattling on the back of his mind. He could deal with that later, for now the ecstasy of being alive would do. He touched the raised scar of his side, remembering how easily Jack had reached him, how fast, even for speed boosting minor magic provided. Violet had told him about Barlowe’s strange signet, something about pushing energy into her body, but nobody knew what it was exactly - not even Xaden. Liam did not recall feeling any of the strange sensation Violet did, but whatever ability the fucker had, it could explain yesterday’s weird happenings.

“The man is dead now” Deigh murmured “but we must be vigilant. Tairn’s rider has multiple enemies who think of you as an obstacle”

“I know” Liam replied. He was aware of how many mistrustful eyes roamed his friend on a daily basis “I will be more observant”

“I expect so, boy. It is quite shameful to lose a competent rider at a mockery of a war”

“It was quite a close call, huh?” Liam grimaced “I like to think you would miss my great companionship”

Deigh grumbled in amusement.

It did not take long for the healer - whom he learned was named Yago Stillwater - to discharge him with a few pieces of advice on pain management and scarring care. It was so strange for a healer to give him so much attention and actual care when his relic usually brought nothing but neglect - healer’s code be damned when it was a ‘marked one. Enthusiastically, Liam thanked Yago again for the help, hoping they could see each other again without one of them losing blood on an infirmary table. There was a promise of more in Yago’s eyes and Liam almost felt like caving in if it wasn’t for his archive duties calling him. Besides, he had a very lengthy thanks to say and it could not be postponed.

“Take care, Mairi” Yago said once Liam opened the infirmary’s door.

He saluted he man with a smile “I’ll do my best”

There was a skip on his step by the time he began his walk back to the quadrant, but it soon faded when Liam noticed a familiar figure striding quickly on the opposite way.

“Xaden?”

His brother took even longer steps, approaching quickly and with an unfriendly face “Were you discharged already?”

“Yeah. I’m all mended”

“Are you feeling okay?” his brother inquired “those fuckers never do a decent service on us”

“Honestly, I feel great” Liam shrugged “the guy even gave me pain tincture, like, multiple ones”

Xaden seemed just as surprised “Huh”

“I know right?” he chuckled.

His brother narrowed his eyes at Liam “Was the healer good looking? Because you’re a neat charmer, brother”

“I am who I am” he replied “now, shall we return? I’m kinda starving and also have library duty with Vi”

“I’ll walk you there” his brother replied.

They walked beside one another in relative silence and Liam noticed his brother seemed more relaxed than he had been in..years? There were still dark colored bags under his eyes, but his jaw was not as tightened as usual, nor were his shoulders so tense. There was only one thing that could equally stress and calm his brother: Sgaeyl and Violet.

But Xaden was not on his flight leathers.

“So, where were you last night? I almost died and my brother did not even visit” Liam teased.

Xaden glanced at him in warning but, before he could reply, his eyes unfocused for a few seconds, as if he was speaking with his dragon. A loud thunder broke through the clear sky again and Liam practically jumped out of his skin again. At least, the flashes of lightning were not so bright during the morning as the ones that woke him up in the middle of the night.

“You were unconscious when I checked on you last night” Xaden said, completely unfazed by the loud sound “Also, I think you might have to do library duty alone. Violence is training with Carr now”

Liam paused his steps and looked outside again. The sky was clear, not a single rain cloud.

“Is that Vi?” he asked, dumbfounded.

His brother nodded.

“It’s not raining…” he mumbled “Xaden, it’s not raining and she’s conjuring lightning!”

“I know”

“You seem oddly calm about this” Liam inquired suspiciously “was the whole middle of the night thunder also her?”

His brother nodded, though his answer almost seemed absent minded “She’s having a hard time controlling it”

More thunder and flashes of lightning cut the sky above them. Liam tried to see where the lightning was coming from, but he could not identify it.

“The girl is on the mountain, about half an hour away from the fortress” Deigh replied.

More lighting struck. Liam felt bad for her, his own signet did act up when he manifested, but it wasn’t like shooting lightning out of nowhere, only some headaches and sensibility to light.

“How is she?” Liam asked “about everything”

His brother’s breathing choked for a split second “In shock. Killing Barlowe did not settle well in her mind. She’s not very happy about her signet either”

Liam felt the guilt rise again. She had her first kill trying to protect him, even if Barlowe deserved what he was given. Despite the nickname Xaden had given her, Violet was never one to enjoy violence or act on it if there were other options. He knew she wanted a signet that reflected that.

“Only Violet manifests a rare signet and gets mad about it” Liam mumbled.

“She will be the most powerful rider in this continent, Liam” his brother’s voice was somber “her power is…we all know the legends”

Xaden did not need to fill the blanks for Liam to understand what he meant. Leadership was probably thirsty to sink its teeth on her, use and exhaust her. She was the ultimate weapon for something she had no idea existed. If they were not careful enough…

“She has to know” Liam whispered, but the grip he had on Xaden’s shoulder was firm “She has to know, Xaden, from us”

Xaden looked defeated as he leaned on the wall of the bridge, occasional flashes of lightning pointing the importance of their conversation. Reminding them of who they owed honesty. If they kept the truth from Violet and she found out from leadership or worse, they could lose a strong ally.

“We know Violet enough, brother. She’s every bit fair, but if we keep lying to her this will end up a disaster for all of us”

His brother’s eyes held something Liam never imagined could cross his features, not even after they were all besieged in Caldyr all those years ago. Something his brother never displayed even when he made the deal, or the day he left for his own Conscription.

Xaden was insecure.

“If we want her on our side, fighting for what is right” Liam continued “we need to tell her the truth”

“Until Aetos steals her memories and we’re all fucked?” Xaden’s voice was on the verge of trembling.

“We both know Aetos is not the reason you keep secrets from her” Liam scoffed “You’re scared of her reaction and opinion about you”

Xaden grunted, standing up straight “You’re gonna be late, let’s keep going”

“So you’re going to run from the conversation again? Really, Xaden?”

His brother sent him another glare “Now is not the time. Not here”

It’s never the fucking time with you. It was always like that, Liam told him the ugly truth and Xaden ran away from it until the consequences hit them all. Violet was not an exception. Xaden was clearly falling for her - or had already, in Liam’s opinion - and his brother was scared, insecure, that she would never return it or end up resenting him. It was frustrating to see Xaden make a mistake so simple to solve, that sitting down and talking to her would be the solution to many of their issues. Unfortunately, where Violet valued open communication, Xaden was pathologically against opening up.

“Look” his brother sighed when they reached the quadrant “the last thing I want is to fight with you after all that happened”

Liam crossed his arms “Me almost dying has nothing to do with the fact you’re repeating a mistake”

Xaden groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose “I promise I’ll give your words some thought, just not now. A lot has happened and I am still fucking processing it”

“Alright”

****

Violet’s head of brown and silver was swimming through the sea of students entering the mess hall, going in the opposite direction. He could not see her properly amongst all the other people and quickly changed his route.

“Where are you going?” Rhiannon asked.

“I’ll be right back” he shouted “Save me and Vi a seat!”

Liam moved smoothly through the current of cadets, bumping into a few people and apologizing on the way. Once he finally stepped into the empty halls leading to their rooms, he saw her practically sprinting down the hall “Vi!”

She turned, shock in her eyes for a brief second before her face lightened up and her steps changed course. Despite his better judgment, Liam embraced her tightly, lifting her feet from the ground.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, stepping back and scanning him. Her face was flushed red with exertion and her flight jacket and uniform shirt draped over her forearm, there were squiggly patterns on the skin of her exposed arms.

“I am a rider, you know?” He mocked “I’m supposed to be here”

She rolled her eyes at him “I mean why are you not resting?”

“I’m all healed now”

Her face fell to his side, gaze unfocusing and a shadow of worry crossing her features “Were you mended?”

He lifted his shirt, showing the scar “See? All good”

She shivered at the sight and he quickly dropped the fabric “Hey. I promise I’m good”

Violet nodded, her pale eyes back on his face, but her face was not less somber “How’s the pain? I have tinctures”

“It’s okay” he waved “perks of being this handsome is that the healer was very nice to me”

She chuckled and he soared that his attempt at cheering her up worked.

“Alright, handsome guy, I’ll be with you for breakfast soon. I just have to freshen up” she said with a pointed look “and I don’t need a bodyguard for that”

“Sorry, but I’m back at your service” Liam smiled, making a point to plant his feet on the ground dramatically.

She rolled her eyes and gave him the clothes draped over her arm “hold it for me, then, servant”

He scoffed, watching as she entered their communal bathing chamber. Violet took her sweet time - Liam was about to rush a girl in a bathroom and suffer the wrath - and came back looking considerably less red than before. She took the shirt from his hands and buttoned it again, but did not put her flight jacket on.

“Quite mean of Carr to train you before breakfast” Liam commented, noticing her trembling fingers.

“He gave me some, but I’m fucking starving either way” she grumbled “never thought using a signet could be so…draining”

They resumed their walking back to the mess hall, and Liam felt at peace again with the routine.

“Jesinia missed you today” he commented “ ‘Library duty is not the same without her, no offense Liam’ were her exact words”

Violet smiled “I’m gonna miss her too. I was banned from library duty until I can control it”

“I heard the lightning” Liam chuckled “badass, though you almost sent me into cardiac arrest in the middle of the night”

Violet’s face went unexplainably red and she shook her head vehemently “I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t know you could hear it all the way to the healer’s quadrant”

“It’s okay. You’ll get the hang of it, as usual”

The mess hall was already visible, the noise inside indicating almost every cadet was already in there. Liam took the opportunity to clasp Violet’s shoulder and stop her.

“Jokes aside” he said “thank you. Really, Vi”

She pursed her lips “It’s my fault he targeted you, the least I could do was save you”

“Hey, Barlowe was an asshole. It’s not your fault that he acted the way he did. You rid the world of a cruel person, Vi. He would not stop at hurting me”

“He almost killed you, Liam. If it wasn’t for…” she paused “you were so close to dying”

“But I’m here. Alive” he shrugged “thanks to you and Tairn. I’ll be forever in your debt”

“Saving a friend is not a debt, Liam” Violet argued “You owe me nothing”

“Still not going to stop me from repaying you somehow” though he doubted anything he did would be enough considering the lies he kept.

“You could repay me by requesting a vacation” she deadpanned “no bodyguard for a week, how does that sound?”

“A resounding no”

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[nekucreates]

I finally caught up on the IDW Sonic comics and I’m so happy that we get a Sonic Riders arc! The first two games are cool concepts, though I’ve only played Zero Gravity (IT’S SO INSANELY GOOD OMG it’s a shame I didn’t have that game as a tween because I would have been hooked to it). I’m hoping the birds get a cool arc or something, but I’m happy we get them at all! I just really like Jet guys, he’s so damn funny. I really like Surge and Kit, and I’ll have to re-read their stuff at some point. I hope we get them or any IDW characters in future games.

Oh and I’m hyped for the Sonic X Shadow game (still can’t believe they called it that and tween me would have been screaming), though I don’t think it’d be on any consoles I own sadly. Argh. A shame because I LOVED Shadow’s edgy game. I played it over and over because I was insane as a tween (unpopular opinion maybe but that game was really damn good story and concept wise but just the controls and some level designs needed more time to cook, the Ark level with Maria SUCKED if you choose the hero path)

Anyway, great time to be a Jet and Shadow fan 👍

[insipid-drivel]

I just wanted to say thank you for your post about horses and the knowledge gap, because 1) it was super knowledgeable and easy to understand, and as a historical fiction writer helps to make my job easier which makes it a lovely tool to have, and

2) there was a tidbit about people with fat bodies still being able to be fat and accomplished riders, and I can't tell you how much it warmed me to my soul to read that. I don't know if it was directly your intention or not to combat the constant barrage of fatphobia we human beings are exposed to in many societies, but it is so hard to convince people that a truly healthy body can be fat and strong and athletic. As a fat liberation activist in my spare time, it was so refreshing to read in a piece that wasn't directly related to fat acceptance or liberation, and dealt with in such a casual, no-big-deal kind of way. It really made my day!

Plus, I got to read all about HORSIES! I've tried to do a lot of research about the human-horse relationship for my work, but there were some things I'd never come across, like the fact that horses can't throw up. That's one of those "things you'd only know if you know the thing" facts that really informs how I shape the details–and I see that you're a writer yourself, so no wonder you understand how to craft useful information for writer and reader alike.

Anyway, I loved this post for all sorts of reasons, and I hope your day is going well.

Thank you so much! And I did indeed include the comment about "fat people could be excellent horse riders" to clap-back at fatphobia.

The only major factor about a person's body weight when riding a horse is whether the rider's weight is more than 30% of the horse's, and that weight limit only applies to weight applied directly onto the horse's spine; they can handle A LOT more weight when they're pulling it, like a carriage, rather than carrying it flat on their backs. Most standard-sized breeds of horses can't handle riders that weigh more than about 250-300lbs, but that's only due to the size of the breed of horse. We mostly had Quarterhorses at the ranch, which are kinda like the standard all-rounders of the horse world in the US; they're good riding horses, not tremendously expensive compared to other breeds, good specialist horses when needed, and generally have pretty even and mellow temperaments vs. other breeds, but they're also mid-range in size and not good for fatter riders purely because it can injure or kill the horse, not because anyone wants to shame you for your weight.

If you're fat and you want to ride? Then the size of your horse can be matched to your weight in order to maximize both your safety and the horse's. The only time I was ever forced to tell a fat person they couldn't ride at the teaching ranch I worked at was when the person's body weight exceeded what the horse's size could handle, and if we could, we'd just pair the person with a larger horse that could handle bigger people in the saddle. However, there were a couple of people that were so big that we literally didn't have any horses in-house that could carry them (again, the 30% weight ratio rule), and had to refund their money and turn them away with a sincere apology and a recommendation to other places to try that had larger breeds.

And yes! You could still be visibly fat AND in amazing riding shape! Fat equestrians have been A Thing for thousands of years! Even Henry VIII was considered to be one of the best equestrians of his time and even specialized in dressage! Just like with professional weight lifters, body fat =/= unhealthy in riders. It's just that so much of the real workout in riding takes your entire body that rather than dropping a bunch of weight from riding to put on muscle in A Place, your body is building muscle underneath your body fat in All The Places, so there isn't a lot of visible weight loss in a lot of riders. If anything, you may gain a little bit of weight just from the muscle you're putting on from learning to ride. It still means you're getting exercise and putting on healthy muscle! Anyone who looks sideways at you if you're fat and a regular horseback rider is seriously just being fatphobic and has 0 understanding of realistic horseback riding. Fuck 'em. Love your curves like you love your horse: you both deserve it.

Writers, this also means that your scene depicting your main protagonist riding with the secondary protagonist on the same horse IS NOT REALISTIC. Horses usually CANNOT carry more than one adult rider (carrying a small child or baby is different) for long without serious injury, or even getting a broken spine. Horses also cannot handle the shock of you "jumping" into the saddle from a tall height (example: Robin Hood: Men In Tights). If you were to try to jump from a high spot and land in a horse's saddle, not only would you probably break your hip and seriously damage Everything In Your Crotch, but you can also snap the horse's spine and kill it in a horrific, godawful way.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Fire and blood chapter 12: Duty and death...(??I suck at titles) DARK! AEMOND AND DARK AEGON (INSANELY DARK YOUVE BEEN WARNED)

CONCEPT: You are mourning your father, being granted a insult of a funeral to dispose his body into the river of kingslanding, as he is refused burial by the king since he is a traitor. You learn of terrifying news as Aemond and Aegon ignore you, and you make a choice that will alter the rest of your life.

WARNINGS; NON-CON, Mention of murder, threathening, cheating, prengancy, dub-con, power abuse and posession burning.

You enjoy your time off without any attention from both of them. Your heart loves them, but they are intense. They fuck intense, they think intense and unpredictable. It's sometimes good to see them just do their duties.

Because it is time you attended yours. You are busy selecting a outfit for your father's funeral. He was killed by Ser Criston Cole. You sometimes hear people say that they don't really appreciate what they had until its gone.

But you always knew. You always knew that your father was a good man. A righteous man that did what was right, even if it was difficult. He would protect you until his final breath and would uphold the good until his final breath. And he did.

He died when proclaiming for Rhaenyra. You think you'll wear a simple dark gown. You don't feel the need to add jewelry or shiny objects. You braid your hair before leaving your rooms.

Because your father was a traitor, according to the laws of the Greens, they do not grant him a proper funeral. Instead, his remains are scattered at the sea.

You thought you knew pain. But not like this. Nothing compares to the body of your father scattered in the dirty water of King's Landing. He wasn't a traitor. He did what was right.

You feel ill and digusted with a lot of people but mostly yourself. You slept with his killers. Time and time again. You let them do things and you put them first. In reality, neither Aemond or Aegon is here to comfort you. Your father was so proud of you, and you let him down.

You didn't ask because you knew neither would attend anyway. Aemond is the prince. Aegon is even the king. It would be improper if not questionable if any of them attended.

You are alone, crying when the guards are glaring at you. One of them even mocks you for doing so. 'Crying for a traitor. You should watch yourself, girl.' You glare back.

Traitor or no traitor, you should be allowed to mourn him. 'Traitor or not, he was still my father, and I am still above you in station. Give me your name and I will speak to the king about your manners.' You promise him that.

He scoffs at you. 'Yes? Your time with the king is over, brat. He has grew tired of your fucking. The Queen has another of his sons in her belly. You must wonder why you weren't called in a few weeks now.' He says with a sickening chuckle. You feel your smug smile vanish, and you feel your heart break again.

'And your other lover? He is flying off today to perform his duty and seek out a wife. One that can give him something else than shame and himulation. You were a good toy for them; but they grew tired of you.' Tears roll down your cheeks as you process the new information.

Aemond's plans for his future, which you didn't know of. And Aegons plans for his future, which again you didn't know of. And the fact they didn't reach out to you In weeks.

You wished they had broken the laws for you. That they came to your fathers funeral anyway. That you weren't so alone. You wish they cared.

He chuckles, amused at your tears. The other guard turns his head away and kicks the remaining bit of your father's urn in the water.

You walk back to your carriage and take a seat. You wipe furiously in your eyes. You think for a while before giving the rider of your carriage the command. 'Return to the castle. Wait for me, but do so quietly. I do not wish to attract any kind of attention.'

-- Inside, you don't quite run, but you don't slow down either. You rush up the stairs to your rooms, throw open the door, and pack a bag. Your bee stuffed animal goes first. You add in a cloak for bad weather, and the rest you fill with old necklaces you don't wear and gold and silver wear. You think about leaving a note. But they didn't tell you. Why should you tell them?

You wait until you are sure that the royal family is enjoying supper and sneak out of your rooms when your maids are making a bath for you. You use the same passageway as they did. You still feel their hands on your body and shake the thought away. You cry but do so silently. The walls might be ancient, but you don't know who else is using it.

You rush back to your carriage. 'Please bring me to Dragonstone. I need to see someone.' You say. The rider doesn't respond. You assume he will bring you anyway. You toss your bag in the carriage and take a seat, and wait for the horses to start walking the roads to the ancestral seat now occupied by the Black Queen.

'And hurry.' You add anxiously eying the red keep. The guards still don't suspect you won't come back. A voice creeps in and chuckles. Why would they even care?

You sniffle, and the carriage finally starts heading to Dragonstone. You regret packing not any food but that would be suspicious.

You make it out of the city without a squeek, but once you enter Kings Road, it goes wrong. You hear footsteps of the horses that advance on you. Your rider stops, and the doors of your carriage are opened.

You don't know who it is. But you are angry and need someone to yell at. 'You have a lot of nerve stopping me, whoever you are. Come out so that I can remember the face of who dared to oppose me on this day.' You grit your teeth when searching for your little dagger.

Which is still at the keep. Shit.

A silver haired short haired head shoves itself in your carriage, and you are met with two blue burning eyes full of determination and hurt. He wears his normal clothing, and you suspect he didn't even change before riding out. Aegon is here.

You feel your heart betray you, and you remind it that he hurt you. He got his wife pregnant again. '...You?' You weakly croak out like some idiot.

His eyes harden. He grabs your arms and drags you from your carriage. 'Yes. Me.'

You fight Aegon by trying to escape his grip and punching him in his gut. He simply avoids and grins at your attempts. 'Just like when you were teaching me, Lady Beesbury. But perhaps you are the one due for a lesson now. A lesson about what it means to be a favourite of the Targaryen family and not running away.' He softly brushes with his lips against your throat and takes off your vest of your black mourning robe. He touches your naked shoulders, and you shudder.

Like always, there is Aemond interrupting. 'Shall I ask for some privacy? Or were you going to fuck her without me again?' Aemond brings the dagger to his mouth and licks off the tip. 'Hm. I asked. He answered. Eventually. Turns out our little brat wanted to take an unauthorised vacation to Dragonstone.' You freeze.

You did. To see jace. To hope he would protect you. Not to commit treason like they assume.

You spit at Aegons face and punch him in the gut. He doubels over and lets go of you. You take off running but Aemond tackles you to the ground. 'You have no right! You aren't my brother! You aren't my father! You aren't my husband and I am not your wife! Let go of me this instant or you'll regret ever laying hands on me.'

'And what, little bee? What will you do?' He growls nearly spitting in your face.

Aegon comes between you two. 'You wanted to go to Dragonstone? Why?' He ask harshly but his eyes are hurt. Just as his feelings.

You tell your master plan. 'I hoped that perhaps Jace would take pity and let me in his house.' You say much to both discomfort. They hate Jace.

The king glares at you. 'After you told him what exactly?'

You think until the words come flowing out like a waterfall. 'That I fell for two monsters disguised as princes who let my father's killer run free and who used me until they had enough.' Enough to let Jace take you in. Hopefully.

'You're acting like we ended our agreement already. No, little bee. It is not like that at all.' Aemond tries to touch your hair but this time you smack his fingers away. He looks at his fingers like you burned him.

'Helaena is pregnant.' You spit out full of hatred. You used to be her friend. You despise her because Aegon married her. It hurts seeing them together and seeing her wear his ring around her fingers. To see her be the mother of his children. You never knew you wanted that for yourself.

To make it all so much worse, she is so terribly sweet. She would never hurt anyone, and neither will you hurt her. So you hide your feelings away and keep away from her.

Aemond shrugs. Even Aegon is confused. 'So? Aegon needs to strengthen his line. That is his job as king. To ensure the future of our house-' You cut him off. You are not rational. You do not care if the house Targaryen exploded out of nowhere.

He has some nerve defending his brother when he went suitor hunting today on your fathers funeral. 'You're engaged.' Aemond debates how to react to that accusation but decides to be honest.

'Floris-' He tries to talk and deceive his way out of this, but this time, you are not falling for it.

Your eyes fill with tears as your gut gets another punch. There is only one Floris that you know of. 'You picked Floris?' A baratheon. You'll never compete with that. Your house feels so little compared to hers. You suppose that a chicken without feathers isn't profitable enough for Aemond.

He shares a quick glance with Aegon worried. 'I don't think you understand-'

You scoff. 'I understand that I lost my father and had to say goodbye today, and you went wife shopping. I understand I have been ignored for weeks and that Helaena is pregnant when I've been fed disgusting moontea. I always knew this was temporary. But I always assumed that I would matter enough to be notified when things came to an end.' You say it without even tearing up. You are heartbroken. You just don't have any tears left to cry.

Aemond looks you up and down and nods when biting on his lips. Aegon stares at you for a long moment.

'Things haven't ended yet.' Aegon nearly begs you. 'Come home. We'll talk about it.' Home is no longer with them.

You shake your head, laughing a bit at the irony of this all. 'For me, it has. I don't want to be your whore anymore. Go to your wives. You both have one now. I'm going home and I won't come back. Ever.' You vow.

Aegon eyes Aemond. He eyes Aegon back. You feel yourself slowly back away until Aegon runs in your direction and tackles you to the ground.

'No! Let go!' You scream loudly.

He kisses your lips. 'I'm sorry. You know we can't. I need you by my side to be a good king. Please.' He begs in tears. 'Please stay. I need you in my life. We both need you here.'

You spit in his face. 'You'll never a good king! Your father knew it, your brother knows it and even you know it!' That Aemond thinks him a shit king is no secret. But that you bring his father into this, that is what really deals the blow as he always was insecure about the love his father had for him. You dealt a hurtful blow, but you don't care about consequences. You want to hurt them like they hurt you.

Aegon looks devasted by your words, and he has small tears in his eyes. You always were the one to believe in him. You always loved him. But you can not do that. Not anymore. And you watch that love that Aegon had for you, die within mere moments.

You don't feel bad. You do feel regret when Aemond starts to chuckle and sinks to his knees. 'Shall we go back to the castle? I think she is tired of her little escape.' He says mockingly. You hear a change in his tone, and you see one cold eye staring back at you.

Aegon would normally scold Aemond if he tried to do anything improper or too harsh during your dates. But this time, he looks like he might be the one hurting you the most. 'Not yet. I want to make it clear that she is ours.' You struggle violently under him and try to get away. It is useless.

The prince chuckles delighted and clicks his tongue at that. 'Hm. I'm all ears, brother.' You roll your eyes. Of course he is. The sick fuck.

Aegon pulls you up and drags you with him to the nearby lake. You heard stories of women being murdered by tying their hands and attaching a rock to them to sink them so they would drown.

'Are you going to kill me?' You whisper softly as you notice Aegon picking out skull crushing rocks.

Aemond chuckles lightly and keeps guard when his brother prepares whatever he is doing. 'We sure picked a good spot for that. We can attach a few stones and throw you in. No one would come searching here, and no one would know it was us.' He says joyfully and full of light.

You break down crying and sob in his arms. 'Settle, little bee. I am merely jok-' Aegon drops his rocks and comes over with a determined angry scowl on his lips.

Aegon smacks you harshly across your face when hissing at you. 'Shut the fuck up!' He hisses and you feel your ripped lips.

Aegon walks to what seems to be an open spot freed of rocks in the grass. 'Bring her.' You are ready to walk, but Aemond stops you suddenly and keeps his arms around you when having his sword hand on his dagger ready to pull it.

'What is the punishment you picked out for her?' He asks, not betraying his intentions. Aegon stands with his back to him, and you anxiously wait for Aemond to do it.

Except he does not. Which surprises you. 'Remember when she defied you?' Aegon asks calmly. 'When Criston killed her father. She wanted to inform Rhaenyra. We took her that night and did some fun things. Remember?'

You think back to that horrible night. How they took your final innocent hole. How they fucked you in your ass and in your front hole and kept taking turns like you were a prostitute they paid for.

Your eyes are big of fears, and you tremble. Aemonds lips smack. 'Oh yes. You mean that. I don't think our little bee enjoyed that night. I recall her tearing up multiple times.' You did. You cried, begged kicked... They didn't care.

'She is not to enjoy punishment. It won't be effective if she did.' Aegon smirks at you as more tears falls and Aemond pets your behind with a cruel chuckle. You feel so little and alone.

You have to try to stop them. 'Please no. Not again. I am sorry.' You blurt out as quick as possible.

'You think that solves everything, hm?' Aegon drags you with him to the spot. 'Who takes what?'

Aemond thinks. 'You are clearly in the mood for some good cunt. I'll take her ass.'

Your dress is lifted, and you are stripped naked. You are pushed on all fours on the cold forest ground. You shiver. Aemond holds you down so that Aegon can have you.

You feel a smack on your behind. 'We start with the fun part, and after we'll take turns.' The king demands, and you feel yourself become small and little. You are grabbed from the ground and pushed between the two of them. Aemond chuckles softly and kisses your mouth when entering your ass roughly. You groan and squeek out when hot tears fall down your cheeks. Aegon slams himself in your front. You are fucked brutally and shamelessly. You keep your cries soft to yourself and try to pretend to be elsewhere. You go up and down between the two of them and hear their animalistic groans and grunts mixed with your own whimpers of shame and hurting. They fuck to punish you.

They don't get to come before dropping you like you are trash. You hit the cold forest floor.

Aemonds cock is stiff. You back away from it in a moment. He grins cruelly. He forces you on the ground and growls when entering with a powerful push. You rock on the ground and cry out as the powerful pushes hurt you. His grip is too tight and too strong but your body enjoys it after the harsh fucking early. You wet fast and that makes it bearable and even pleasurable. You feel your muscles tighten and react and your tears and crying stops.

He laughs noticing the change. He takes you even harder and smacks you to make sure it's unpleasant. It only makes you wet much to your own misery. Aemond comes with a battle like cry and squirts himself empty in your pussy. Your head is forced under his cock to lick away the remaining drips. It falls on your tongue and you swallow it. 'She is wet. Enjoy her.' He announces when leaving you freshly dirty body for Aegon.

'Kneel.' He barks. You are not a whore and won't take commands. He smacks you on your behind. He enters with a push and you ate stretched out and filled. You feel his cock already stiff and hard in you. You wish he would be gentle and less painful to have inside you. He starts to buck. 'Argh!' You cry and double over. You scratch your knees on some stones and whimper it out. Aegon does not care and grabs you by the throat dragging you to his front. He kneels you down and fucks you unleashing his anger on you. Your cheeks hurt as does your ass. You feel tears drip down and whimper between sobs. The pleasure is forced to rise by his powerful trusts.

You are wet. You feel your own hands pushed between your legs and Aemond holds you when Aegon pleasure you with your own hands. You come full of shame and self hatred

Aegon punishes you for that by slapping you softly across your face as a warning. They fuck you both one time. Two times. Three times...

You don't know who is on top and who is holding you down. The cock goes in deep and stimulates you before rocking throughly. You shudder and groan softly. Your captor meanwhile softly strokes your hands he holds and you become in a numb mindstate where it just happens and where it is nice good and fine.

Aegon comes inside your mouth and forces you to keep it in for the remainder of the date. Aemond likes to come in your face to hurt you and to make you dirty..

They take you both a final time and you are begging for release. You are met with one of them taking your ass as final vengeance before coming and leaving his cum in there.

You are grabbed at some point and brought to the river. With a piece of your own clothing you are roughly scrubbed clean of blood and dirt and cum. They dress you again.

You sink to your knees and cry. You think it is Aemond that grabs you from the ground and carries you back to your carriage. Aegon is busy sharpening a knife of his. He glares at you.

You swallow.

You thought you wanted to leave them before. But now you know you have to. You know that if you won't escape they will eventually drive you back into their arms and back in their beds. You cannot be their plaything anymore. Aemond gently places you on the ground. You try to walk but everything hurts.

Even your hair hurts. The king takes his horse and leaves for the castle leaving you. Aemond gestures to your carriage. 'Go sit. We have a long way to go.' He says. You think back of his behavior earlier. You walk around the carriage and that's when you notice the pearl white carriage having light red prints on them of fingers. You eye Aemond. He was licking something off his dagger earlier. He makes a shrug. 'Yes, I killed your little friend. I don't like you having male friends. Now get in or I'll help you.'

--- At the Red keep awaits the next surprise. The Kingsguard is waiting for all three of you to return. You are shoved behind Aemond who shields you and Aegon coldly addresses his guards. Criston Cole speaks. 'My king. We didn't know you were out riding. Someone should have escorted you.' He speaks before kneeling. You roll your eyes.

You avoid looking at Cole. He is the reason your father is dead. On today that will especially be hard to forget. 'My brother was with me. I was safe.' You hear Aegon say. 'I also want a little chat with you, about the safety of my guests.' He says angry. He means you.

'Come, Brienne.' Aemond pulls you inside the red keep so you don't hear the rest of it.

'I will never forgive either of you.' You promise when wiping at your eyes.

Aemond shrugs. 'I told you before that I don't mind it if I need to force you to love me.' You Growl at his words.

You fucking hate him. Both of them. 'Let go of me, you monster. I wish to properly wash myself and go to my rooms.' You are walking but Aemond has paused. He attacks you from behind lifting you and smacking you to the ground.

You cower and cry when he comes closer. He groans. 'I don't like that word. I don't want to hear you say it ever again, or I'll do something even worse with your body.' You give a few quick nods that you understand and are grabbed from the ground and briefly brushed across your face when you whimper and cry.

The guards don't do anything to help you. Aemond whispers something in their ears just in case and grabs your arms dragging you to your rooms.

Inside your rooms are no longer a mess. Your ladies must have cleaned it and put everything back where it once was. You drop your bag. 'My lady. Where did you go?' One of your maids rushes to you and worriedly takes your shaking hands into her own.

'My lady? Are you alright?' You break down crying and fall in her arms.

Aemond quickly acts. 'She had to say goodbye to her father today. Obviously she is not alright. She will survive it, of course. Her house is strong and so is she.' This had nothing to do with your father.

'Oh, my lady...One of us should have been there for you. You should have asked us to come with you. We are more than just your maids.' She says so kindly. You try to remember her name but can't recall.

'You are all dismissed.' You flinch when Aegon enters the rooms, wearing his crown again.

Aemond eyes it jealously. 'King Aegon-' The maids quickly bow but Aegon has no time for that. 'Shut the fuck up and get out.'

You watch as they leave. 'Why did you dismiss my ladies?' You ask your voice little. Aemond watches confused as well.

Aegon grins. 'I am stripping you of your titles. You'll be a Waters from now on. The laws are very clear on prostitution. I'm afraid I need to take you into custody as well for your crimes.' He says joyfully.

You come close to hitting him across his face. 'All because I told you the truth?' You scoff at him. He is crazy. You flipped a switch by him.

He is not done yet. You can tell by his smug smirk. 'Aemond, Burn her personal belongings. She doesn't need that anymore.' He says before giving a few of your beloved plushies a glance. Some of those belonged to your grandmother and your own mother. They are heirlooms and you are very attached to them.

You cry out and start to beg. 'Aegon no! Please...You know how much my things means to me.'

Even Aemond thinks that a horrible idea. He loves books too. 'Brother, think. You cannot undo damage if it is done.' He warns.

The king scoffs at his weaker brother and takes your special first valyrian fairytale book from the bookshelf. The first story you ever read. The reason why you were assigned Aegons tutor. The reason how all of this started.

Aegon selects a handful of other books as well but you would rather see the entire shelf burn and not your favourite book. Your mother read you from it. 'I don't care. Let's start with her books. She is too clever for my liking anyway.' He throws the book in the fireplace and it is instantly surrounded and grabbed by flames. They dissolve it and lick the pages and burn it into Ash.

In a teary haze you also think you see your father laying there, his head smashed in by Aegons sword. He moans in pain and spits blood before dissolving. You scream.

Aegon has the next thing figured out to burn. He holds a few stuffed pluche animals. You shake your head at him. He walks to the fireplace and carelessly throws them into the fire. 'You're too old for these anyway,' He hisses.

You rush to the fire ready to burn your hands to grab them. To save them. You never had much friends so the plushies are all you had when growing up. You feel someone hold you back. You kick and scream when tears burst from your eyes and screams escape your body.

Until there is no sound left. Aegon is satisfied and leaves before whispering the name of your new rooms in Aemonds ear.

Aemond sinks to his knees next to you, and gently kisses your forhead. You stare at the flames and the remains of your book and your plush toys. 'I am so sorry my love.' He mutters in high valyrian in your ear. .

[comfort-questing]

11. animal trap

he'd tried not to look. bad enough to feel, as the thin burning line of pain where the wire snare cut into his skin turned into a throbbing that traveled from foot to knee and back again. he could feel the blood soaking through his trouser leg, and down into his boot, warmth growing chilly as the night came on.

at least it hadn't been one of the iron jaw traps he'd tripped. he didn't know if he'd have a leg still, if that had happened; this was bad enough, and trying to pry at the wire had only bloodied and bruised his numb fingertips, not to mention jolting the shallow wound ringing his leg.

he had ample time to think, as the damp of the leaves beneath him soaked slowly through his clothes, as he shivered in the gathering night wind. think about what a numbskull he'd been, trying to run away like this. the outlaws didn't like it when you left their territory, not after you'd learned enough to find their camp again.

but that wasn't his life anymore. he didn't want it to be. even if only shame and punishment waited for him beyond the edge of the forest, he'd take that over what had been.

the pain in his leg was bad enough that the half-healed whip-marks on his back had almost faded away in comparison, but shifting back and forth still tugged at them, the newest assortment overlaid on old scars. that was what you got for messing up, for being soft. for letting a wagon escape in the fighting, or a merchant's wife slip away into the woods after she'd left her jewelry behind her.

...what punishment would come to him when they found him, he couldn't guess. something worse, no doubt. better not to think about it now; it would come as it came, and perhaps with some luck he'd freeze or starve first.

he huddled into his patched cloak, shivers pulling his shoulderblades painfully together, and tugged at the wire again even though he knew it wouldn't make any difference.

-

after a while, time started to lose its meaning; only that the night was quite black about him, and the moon rising and then sinking again as he drifted in and out of fitful sleep, the cold numbing his injuries. he thought he heard the birds singing, two or three times, but was sure they were just his imagination, because it was still dark each time.

but by and by the sky between the treetops was slightly lighter than the inky branches, and the blackness faded to gray, and his breath could be seen on the air again, a thin skin of frost riming the damp autumn leaves mounded on the floor of the gully he had slipped into. he curled and uncurled his fingers and toes, reflexively, although he could barely feel them move, and licked at his dry lips.

it was not footsteps that startled him, but a rustle of leaves and then hooves on the path somewhere above, and that was enough to tell him it wasn't the outlaws anyway; there weren't any horses at the camps, being too difficult to feed and keep quiet. he wrestled helplessly with whether to call out or not, as he squinted into the early daylight, and then the high-pitched bark of a dog from somewhere in the rider's shadow solved his problem for him.

"hey, what's that, Bobble? squirrels? bandits?"

the voice was young, likely a girl's, and the shaggy pony in the path halted to let its rider peer downwards. the small black dog on the ground was pointing as best it could, fringed tail at alert and nose tilted towards him.

"oh, good grief," said the girl, from inside her hood, "a misfortune'd ranger or something? say, man, did you spend the night down there for fun, or need a hand up?"

at last he managed to make his hoarse throat work again, and get out the words: "help me - please."

-

getting him out of the trap was an ugly business, and required a couple of sticks as well as the girl's knife to help out, while he breathed slowly in and out and tried not to faint with the pain. he did stay conscious, after a fashion, but not a very good one; he had no memory of the wire finally giving in and snapping, or the makeshift bandage being applied.

he did remember, though, the look on the girl's face as his sleeve slid back during the scrambling climb upward, exposing the criminals' brand on the inside of his forearm. a moment of stillness, her eyebrows drawing together, and then a twitch of her mouth.

"well," she said, after a moment, "get on, I can't lift you up the slope myself."

--and he dazedly decided that that would be enough of a project, with one leg and dubious arm assistance, that the rest would keep til later.

[grailfinders]

Fate & Phantasms #23P: Medusa

today on Fate & Phantasms we finally leave the knight classes behind and head into the riders, starting off with the O.G., Medusa. she is a Druid who gets her magic from the Elementalist archetype, because let’s be real here you only really need like, two spells to play her.

or do you?

she’s also a Duelist to whip it, whip it good.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: lemme take a selfy

(also as a reminder- we've opened suggestions for viewers' choice builds again! just leave a comment on an F&P post by the time the Faerie Knights are released)

Ancestry and Background

Medusa is a god/monster, neither of which is easily found in the player races, so we’ll make her Human to pick up some useful feats as we go. I mean, she’s human enough to be a servant, right? that’s… not saying much these days, to be honest.

still, you get a boost in Dexterity and Charisma anyways.

that being said, you’re not entirely human. thanks to being an earth god you’re more of an Oread, giving you some extra options to choose from as you level up. this gives you low-light vision, which doesn’t matter much when you’re always wearing a blindfold.

and while you can get cool Oread stuff, first we have to stop off at the Unconventional Weaponry store for level one, if you want to wield a whip, at least.

at level five, you can shatter the Treacherous Earth around you once every ten minutes, turning the area you’re standing in into difficult terrain. half the trouble in fighting a medusa is getting around their “statues”, y’know?

at level nine, your Earthsense gives you tremorsense up to 30’ away. now you can wear that fashionable blindfold you like so much!

at level 13 you make a Shadow Pact with Zon-Kuthon, so I guess you’re Nidalese now. with it, you can use your own blood to cast Creation at will. you can do this whenever you like, but you a) take 1 point of damage each time, and b) you can only have one item up at a time. they also dissipate into nothing if placed in bright light, so Blood Fort Andromeda isn’t super powerful yet.

finally, at level 17 your Metal-Veined Strikes make your unarmed attacks either cold iron or silver as far as resistances are concerned. it’s a shame we weren’t able to fit much monk in here, but hopefully this helps even the odds in a fistfight against your sisters. I don’t normally ask for violence against children but they kind of deserve it.

I’ve also discovered one way to give you a goddess core thanks to the Anti-Magical background. that gives you proficiency in Aquatic lore since you live on an island as well as a boost in Constitution and Wisdom. but more importantly, whenever you’d get affected by magic (including your own) roll a d20. on a 2 or a 1 the spell doesn’t affect you at all. thankfully we’re not super huge on self-buffing here, since you don’t need to be strong to fight a statue.

Class Levels

1. starting things off, as a druid you’ll get a boost in Wisdom since it’s your key ability, meaning a lot of your class features are based off it. you’re also trained in Perception and Nature, as well as Fortitude and Reflex saves, unarmed and simple attacks, and all armors except heavy. a dress isn’t armor at all, so you’re fine. you also get trained in Acrobatics and Occultism now, and eventually Arcana later when your intelligence grows. spoilers, I guess.

one last proficiency- you’re an Expert in Will saves.

now we get to the fun stuff! your first Ability Boost will bump up your Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom, for better physicality and better stone eyes later. you also learn Druidic, because every ttrpg feels the need to give people languages they probably will never use. more importantly, you join the Stone Druidic Order, giving you some more earthy options later, as well as training in Crafting, the Steadying Stone feat to succeed better at balancing and staying on your feet on rocky surfaces, and the Crushing Ground order spell, sealing a creature away in a fissure for up to a round.

you can also use Primal Spellcasting by preparing your spells each day, and unlike in D&D when I say you prepare the spells, I mean you prepare each spell. you have to name the exact spell each slot will be used for the day before, so good luck with that! you’ll always have cantrips, at least? I’m not going to go over every spell you can use since that’s a lot of stuff, but I’ll make sure to suggest at least one or two spells each level.

you can use a Shield Block if you have a shield (you shouldn’t), and your Wild Empathy lets you use diplomacy to make an impression on wild animals, even letting you make requests of them if you roll well enough.

finally, there’s one unfun thing we need to cover- your Anathema. basically, if you act too much like a captain planet villain you lose your powers for a bit. as a stone druid, you don’t like polluting the earth or mining unnecessarily, but like all druids you also can’t spoil nature, teach druidic to non-druids, or use metal armor or shields. they say nothing about weapons though, so your chain whip is still 100% on the table!

now onto your spells. for a cantrip, Tame will help you ride just about anything you can get on, increasing your standing with a domesticated animal for up to 1 minute. that’s not a lot to start with, but as you level up it can eventually grow to an hour of ride time. afterwards, they’re immune to the spell for a day.

for your leveled spells, Ant Haul will give you some truly monstrous strength, and Tether can tie down a creature with your whips, either slowing them down or completely immobilizing them for up to 1 minute. as you level up, the whips get tougher to destroy.

2. at level two, your snakiness gives you an innate Poison Resistance equal to half your level, and you can Tame Animals by using a nature check. finally, we’re picking up the Elementalist dedication to spice up your spells even more. there’s also an alternative spellcasting style we could’ve gone for here, but I like the full druid list better. as it stands, right now you can attune yourself to one of the four elements each day, giving you resistance to effects originating from that element.

3. at level three your Alertness and Great Fortitude make you an expert in Perception and Fortitude saves, respectively. you’re also learning your riding skills now as an Express Rider. while riding a creature, you can make a nature check to make their travel speed faster.

you’re also better at Occultism now. if fate and exactly one historical fiction book are to be believed Medusa is a long-forgotten goddess turned into a monster, sounds pretty occult to me.

at level two, you get your first of many options to summon Pegasus, Phantom Steed. right now you just summon a roughly regular horse, but a cringefail one that fails all saves. however, by sixth level it will be able to fly at 80’ per turn! I also grabbed Slough Skin, because snake. with this, you can much more easily remove persistent damage effects on your skin, and contact poison is less effective on touch.

4. at level four you can make Elemental Summons to make preparing spells a lot less difficult. now you can spend ten minutes to replace any other prepared spell with summon elemental. these flying creatures are a lot more useful for combat since they don’t fail every save and can actually attack, but they come at a cost- you can’t keep them summoned for more than a minute, and you won’t get one big enough to ride until you have sixth level spell slots anyway.

if that does happen, make sure you use your Cat Fall to reduce your falling damage. if you don’t, there’s going to be one godly pancake on the ground when Emiya’s through with you.

you can also summon a Familiar now, because we needed to get a second elementalist feature before we could swap out. I mean I’d allow a baby pegasus, that sounds cute.

5. level five now, boost up your Strength, Dexterity, Wisdom, and Charisma with this Ability Boost. you’re also better with reflex saves now thanks to your Lightning Reflexes, and you’re better at Acrobatics to not splat later.

we’re mostly picking up Elemental Absorption for the defensive options, giving you resistance to one kind of elemental attack for up to a minute, but you can also fire off all the energy you stored up to end the spell early. also picking up Organsight because again, snake. it lets you make a precision attack against a target’s vital organs for extra damage if you make a recall knowledge check beforehand.

6. a sixth level druid can know Steady Spellcasting, your best spell is literally looking at someone, so it doesn’t make sense they’d be able to stop you that easily. if someone tries to stop your casting with their reaction, you can try a dc 15 flat check to stop their stopping you from stopping them from living. that sure is a sentence. the important thing is your spells work more.

you can also make a Quick Squeeze to slip through tight fits like some kind of slithery serpentine creature. like an eel.

you also have an Enhanced Familiar now. Pegasi are cool like that.

7. seventh level druids are Expert Spellcasters, making your save DCs even higher and just generally making you more terrifying.

you’re also a bit stronger now, thanks to Hefty Hauler beefing up your physicality. speaking of, we’re also boosting your Athletics this level.

you can also cast fourth level spells like Elemental Gift- giving a willing creature elemental powers for up to one minute. we’re mostly here for either Air (move speed and flight) or Earth (bonus against tripping, makes difficult terrain), but it’s nice to keep your options open. for a no-nonsense option, try Weapon Storm- swing your whip around so fast you attack everyone at once, hitting all creatures in a 30’ cone or 10’ radius around you.

8. at level eight, you can now tell people Can’t You See? when someone tries to point out your location, they need to make a DC 14 flat check, otherwise whoever they’re talking to will have a harder time spotting you. this also works on creatures seeking you when you’re hidden or undetected. I don’t know what happened at the end of F/SN that lets you all hang out together and cook, but you’re definitely good at blending in.

servants are also really good at noticing magic in the area, so your Assured Identification will help you ID magic items.

finally, Water Step lets you move across liquids as long as you don’t end your turn in them. Medusa had actual screentime in an anime, so we have to add a lot of monk techniques to this build somehow.

9. level nine’s super easy, just bump up your Athletics again. it’s also easy for spells, since there aren’t any I want here. there are plenty of fifth level spells to choose from though, don’t make this a dead level in a game at home. maybe grab Fly if you want to pretend you have a Pegasus a little early- probably less complicated in terms of mechanics too.

10. at level 10 you get a boost in Strength, Constitution, Wisdom, and Charisma. we also get a lot more physical this level!

you can now Harden Flesh while standing on earth or stone, giving you resistance to all physical damage. turns out partial statufication has its uses- just ask Galatea.

you can also make a Powerful Leap for extra mobility, and we finally pick up the Duelist Dedication. with this, you can Quick Draw a weapon to draw and attack at the same time. whips fit in one hand, so we can actually use these feats this time around!

11. at level 11 your Druid Weapon Expertise gives you… expertise… in druid weapons. pretty self-explanatory, tbh.

you can also Kip Up, standing up as a free action that doesn’t cause reaction attacks. servants move super fast, you’re not going to get hit by most of the things you’re fighting.

your Resolve makes you a master of will, and your successes are always critical to boot!.

finally, bump up Acrobatics again. we’re at the point where you can actually use Pegasus, so your fall resistance had better be top-tier.

this is also the busiest level for spells- both Summon Elemental and Phantom Steed produce decent Pegasus counterparts here, and you can also cast Flesh to Stone at this level. if they fail the first save, they need to keep making saves every turn, gaining and losing slowed points as they go. if they stop being slowed altogether, the spell ends and they’re fine. if they lose all actions, they’re permanently turned into a garden decoration.

12. at level twelve, you can use Cryptic Spells as long as you’re in natural terrain. if you spend this action before you cast a spell, you can make a nature check against everyone else’s perception- if you succeed, they won’t even notice you casting a spell. this only hides the actual casting, not the effects- they’ll still notice the petrification setting in.

since you’re riding Pegasus now, you’d better be good at it. grab Aerobatics Mastery to make flying maneuvers a lot easier to pull off. you get a bonus to making maneuvers, and you can combine two of them in one go.

you also learn how to put a Disarming Twist into your attacks, so if you hit them with your attack you’ll also disarm them. even if you miss, you can still leave them flat-footed.

13. thirteenth level druids get armor expertise, a boost in Nature for sneakier spells, and a Weapon Specialization for more damage with weapons you’re good with. there’s not really any seventh level spells I want either- I mean maybe Plane Shift if you want to be really generous about how the summoning system works?

14. at level 14, your Timeless Nature prevents you from aging, and gives you a +2 bonus on saves against disease and all primal magic. it’s a shame you got this feature so late, otherwise you might’ve been able to stay sister-sized.

you can also Rapid Mantel to grab ledges easier, and you can make a Dueling Parry to block incoming attacks. Medusa can make it real hard to find an entry through that chain she’s swinging around.

15. alright, here’s the home stretch! bump up Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom for better everything we car about, then grab some Bizarre Magic to make it harder to recognize your spells. y’know, because they’re mostly just your eyes. to get this, we had to bump up your Occultism proficiency this level.

you’re also a Master Spellcaster. good luck figuring out what that does!

we’re getting to the point that you’re just going full Gorgon if you cast any spells aside from upcast Flesh to Stone, but as long as we’re here might as well grab Monstrosity Form. it’s Gorgon the spell. get big, eat people, you know the deal.

16. at level 16 your Effortless Concentration means you’re way less likely to go splat when things get hairy. you can now sustain spells as a free action.

you can also Consult the Spirits once a day to learn information about an area. you’re really old, you probably know a lot more than you’re letting on.

you can also enter a Dueling Dance while wielding your whip, permanently giving you the bonus of dueling parry.

17. another easy level! bump up Nature. you can also use ninth level spells like Disjunction. I’m not sure if you can really use your eye on nonhuman objects, but sure, why not. now you can turn magical artifacts into nonmagical stone, usually for a week, sometimes forever.

18. at level 18 your Primal Aegis gives you and your nearby allies resistance to a whole host of effects- acid, cold, electricity, fire, negative, and positive damage. gods, man. they have some nonsense powers protecting them.

you also get Natural Medicine because they’re nothing else I really wanted at this point for your skill feats. I mean, you definitely can’t count on the gods to patch you up, right?

you can also cast a Rockslide Spell- if you’d cast any spell that affects an area you can turn parts of that area into difficult terrain for a round. this also gives any spell you’re using the earth trait, so you can blast an area you’re standing in and still take reduced damage.

19. your penultimate level teaches you some Ambush Tactics while you’re in your preferred terrain. I mean, does Medusa ever play fair? always hiding in her statues.

you’re also a Legendary Spellcaster, so it’s particularly hard for anyone to make their saves against your flesh to stone spells now.

on a similar note, you’re now legendary in Acrobatics, completely negating all fall damage and allowing you to perform three maneuvers at once while flying.

finally, you’re a Primal Heirophant. that doesn’t really do much, but you can cast a 10th level spell now. and yeah, there’s no tenth level spell we can pick here that would be in character. maybe Primal Phenomenon, since it’s mostly just copying lower level spells?

20. ahh, your final level. felt like just yesterday we started this build. tbh level 19 was a really nice way to finish the build, but let’s press on anyway.

for your final level, bump up your Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma.

you also gain an Advanced Elemental spell from the stone order, letting you make a Stone Lance, dealing damage and impaling a creature if it hits, with a critical hit pinning them in place entirely. if that’s not enough, once they pull themselves out they’re still stuck with persistent bleed damage! lances are more little you’s wheelhouse, but this is pretty close to tying someone down with your whip, so I’ll allow it.

you also get Oddity Identification to help figure out when people are spying on you, and if a fight breaks out you can redirect elements, sending an incoming spell with an elemental trait to another creature if the attack roll misses. tricking Caster into hitting an ally, always a fun time for all!

Pros and Cons

Pros:

you have some ungodly amounts of defense against magic, resisting both certain types of spells as well as damage types to really shut down spells you can see coming, pun a little bit intended. your various resistance types stack on top of each other, allowing you to no-sell weaker attacks without even having to dodge, and that’s not even touching the chance spells have to fail against you entirely.

on the flip side, you’re great at casting spells without being seen, making you almost as good an assassin as cursed arm. subtle spells are a huge benefit to you, letting you petrify people without them ever knowing you did it.

you’ve also got a decent amount of melee training to fall back on once your spells are depleted, with plenty of tricks to protect you from nonmagical attacks as well.

Cons:

your whip proficiency isn’t great, so while you can defend yourself just fine, you’ll have trouble actually hitting your enemies as you move into later levels.

your mystic eyes and Pegasus both rely on 6th level or above spell slots, which are in short supply. hopefully you won’t have to pull out your noble phantasms too often.

a lot of your abilities are situational, not in terms of usefulness, but in terms of when you can use them at all. even ignoring your anathema, most of your features work when you’re either in nature, or standing on stone. again, you have duelist training to fall back on, but you won’t be able to kick ass in classrooms, so you’re not quite up to par with the real deal.