#change on the fly

[sognareleggiesogna]

RECENSIONE: Change on the fly di Maren More

Cari Sognatori, Siria ha letto il primo volume della serie sport romance Totally Pucked series scritta da Maren More per la Royal Book Edizioni !!! SERIE: Totally Pucked series VOL 1 GENERE: Sport romance Ebook / cartaceo Affiliati Amazon Immaginate di essere innamorate del fratello della vostra migliore amica. E poi… di doverlo tenere nascosto per anni. Ridicolmente affascinante, un vero…

[golbiey]

happy long weekend!!! i wanted to compile all of my sonic prints in one post...theyre available on my shop!

[humming-fly]

He was feeling left out

and the higher rez stills, since gifs always export as if you're sending messages through a metal can~

[rochenn]

Dooku being killed by Anakin is super thematically satisfying but I can't stop thinking about a slightly altered timeline where he is publicly executed on Coruscant instead. Can you imagine the SCENE

[clone-futon]

Silly things to do with his silly cape

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - One

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - You stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet. - ao3

You step off the train carrying every one of your earthly possessions clutched in both hands. In one a carpetbag, only half-full, and in the other, a stack of letters tied together with string. A paltry summary of a very small life, you thought months ago, but today you only see how much room is left over where happiness might take root.

It began with an ad in the paper—Widowed Ranch Owner Seeking Tender Companionship—and a mailing address to a livestock town out in the west. Hans König described himself as Austrian, unusually tall, and fair lonesome in a big ranch house with no woman to make it a home. He’d immigrated to the United States as a child, married very young, had no children, and was forced to watch his first wife perish to consumption.

After two years of mourning, he said in the paper, he finally accepted that she would not want him to live and die alone. And thus, if there were any kind-hearted lady willing to give an old widower a chance, he would promise to take very good care of her.

You’d replied as fast as you could get your hands on paper and pen. The fourth child and only daughter of a tobacco farmer, you hadn’t much else to occupy yourself with. And truly, you hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Proficient in the written word though you were, there was not much else to recommend you. You brought a tiny dowry, skill with a sewing needle, a general knowledge of plants, and mediocre cooking to the bargaining table; he was horse man tried and tested by the challenges of the frontier.

You were under no illusions that you were the most attractive candidate.

Still, you wrote your letter. Described yourself to him as honestly as you could—neither especially pretty nor particularly accomplished, but told by friends and family to be of gentle demeanor and useful intelligence. Forgave him preemptively if he never responded, and wished him the best of luck in his search for a wife.

You’d nearly fainted dead away when his response had arrived as immediately as the next mail wagon. Hans König had addressed you by name, as intimately as if he’d known you for years, and said,

I was very pleased to receive your letter, Miss, and am terribly excited to correspond with you in the future. Although you write that you cannot imagine yourself an appropriate wife for a man of my experience, I myself cannot imagine what more you must need to be such. While I will not do you the discourtesy of making any promises with only my first letter to you, I will tell you truly that I was glad of your introduction, and hope you will grant me the pleasure of knowing you further.

Your whole family had been so excited for his response that Pa had broken out his fiddle after dinner that night, rejoicing already that his little girl’s future was secure.

What followed was a whirlwind half year of romance over letters sent back and forth so fast that you kept running out of ink for your pen. When you’d related this problem to Hans, he’d sent not only an entire box of lampblack ink, but a new steel pen, blotter, and lap desk on which to write.

There is no greater misfortune I can imagine now than to lose the pleasure of your correspondence, he’d written.

Pa had cried that day. Your mother had drawn you close and kissed your hair, whispering a thankful prayer that her baby was going to be alright.

In every letter, Hans demonstrated himself to be a kind man, thoughtful and patient, and as the relationship between the two of you blossomed, you started to believe it yourself. You had long given up on the possibility of marriage, thinking yourself too old and plain by now to offer much to any man worth marrying.

Now you stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet.

There are only a few people milling about the station for you to survey. The surest way to pick Hans out from a crowd, he’d written, was by height. He towered over most people, and expressed hope in an early letter that he would not dwarf you too much.

But as you look around, no one stands out above the rest. In fact, the people here aren’t much different than what you’re used to; their simple dress and slight grubbiness prove them to be working folk, the kind you’d expect in a town like this, stockyards visible from the station. Your kind of people—at least normally.

Anticipating this meeting, you’d put on the best dress you own, a light frock with little printed flowers all over it. Your hair is braided and pinned up as fashionably as you could manage early this morning, and you’d even dabbed a little rouge on your lips for the occasion. As far as you can tell you are the cleanest, best-dressed person in the vicinity, and you notice not a few people openly staring.

The thought would usually make you blanch, but right now you hope it will only help your would-be husband to catch sight of you. You still can’t find him—

“Mrs. König!”

You whip your head in the direction of the call. Relief trickles through you, soothing an anxiety you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge yet, and then you see that stepping onto the platform is the handsomest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dark skin, warm as a summer’s day. Lips soft and full like a peach fresh-picked from the tree. A serious brow over serious eyes.

Strong and lean in build, with a loose, confident swagger in his step. He approaches, his large, long-fingered hands coming to rest on the buckle of his belt as comes to stand before you.

Tall, to be sure.

But not unusually tall.

This cowboy—profession evidenced by the worn state of his attire—is not your intended husband.

Something in you falls at that.

Swiftly you berate yourself for the betrayal. Your Hans is gentle, generous, kind. So what if this man before you is attractive? Marriages must be built on more, and Hans has already given you more. His looks shouldn’t—don’t—matter to you at all.

“Not as of yet,”you reply to the cowboy, “but soon. May I help you, sir?”

He fixes you with an intense gaze. Up close, you see thick, dark lashes framing even darker eyes—the color of which, you realize, is as black as fresh-turned soil.

The smell of humus fills your memory, powerfully earthy and fresh, such that you could be on your hands and knees with your face to the ground right now. You feel the phantom of it between your fingers; rich and cool, like at the start of the planting season before the rains. So dark and fine as to live between the grooves of your fingertips for days.

“I’m Kyle Garrick,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m a wrangler for Hans König, miss. He sent me to meet you.”

You blink. The fantasy you’d dreamed up on the train ride—of seeing Hans across the platform, recognizing him instantly, and running into his arms—finally crumbles into dust.

“Oh,” you say.

Kyle Garrick frowns. “You’re disappointed.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. “No, he must be such a busy man, I couldn’t expect him to drop everything for me.”

The cowboy sucks his lips between his teeth, studying you for a heartbeat, then—“He is busy. Mr. König is finishing preparations for your wedding this evening. That’s why he couldn’t come.”

What disappointment had begun to sprout in your stomach immediately strangles down to the root. Joy surges in your chest like birds taking flight.

“A wedding!”

You didn’t need a wedding, you’d written to him—you were so happy merely to marry him, you couldn’t possibly ask for more. All you needed, you told him, were his hands in yours, promising before God to be your husband for the rest of your lives. You’d meant it, too.

But an actual wedding!

“Biggest the town’s seen in years,” says Kyle Garrick. “Folks haven’t talked about anything else for weeks.”

“Oh!” Then suddenly you despair. “Oh, I’m not dressed at all for a wedding. If I’d known, I would’ve worked on this dress more, I would’ve put my hair up better!”

Kyle surprises you with sudden passion. “You look perfect. You’re the prettiest thing that’s ever come into this train station, miss. This town, even.”

“Oh,” you say again. You flush hot up into the roots of your hair. Embarrassed, you avert your gaze, looking down at his worn roper boots. “I’m not, really. But it’s kind of you to say.”

His hand touches yours, the one holding onto your carpetbag. When you look back up at him, his expression is gentler.

“Mr. König will agree with me,” he says, “I promise.” He eases the handle from your grasp. Up close, he has a comforting smell. Leather, and sweet hay, and campfire smoke.

“You think so?” you ask, tightening your grasp on the letters in your other hand.

He nods. “I do. Now come on—I brought a cart. Let me take you home.”

-

next

[appledotcodotuk]

15 cheerily parking himself on a double yellow line is so.... all these years and you still can't drive 😭

[quimser]

trying a linocut-leaning style (best viewed on desktop, mobile crushes the quality massively)

[corvus-frugilegus]

Illario's grab for power is so emotionally complicated I can't stop thinking about it.

Like there's the favouritism and the loneliness and the need for love and connection that I think the title has come to represent. Because favour is maybe as close as the Dellamortes come to talking about love.

(Love is still there, it's fucked up and twisted in a lot of ways but it's there. It's hard for any of the Dellamortes to acknowledge this. But they're family and that means something to all three of them. Family is important to them).

But also for so much of his life Illario hasn't had very much power or agency either. He doesn't get to make big decisions for himself much like Lucanis, he doesn't have a lot of influence on the trajectory of his life because of Caterina's influence. Lucanis is the favourite. In that family dynamic Illario probably has the least power of the three of them.

So taking the reins of his own life and cutting that deal with Zara? The cost of losing Lucanis breaks his heart, but for the first time he's the one deciding the terms in which he lives his life in a big and meaningful way. It's not just small rebellions. It's reaching for what he wants and for once in his life feeling like he's the one in control. He's the one with the power.

And honestly? I can't fault him for wanting that. For not wanting to feel like he's at the bottom of the Dellamorte barrel anymore. For wanting his life to mean something, if only to himself. He isn't wrong to reach for power. There's nothing wrong with wanting to change the imbalance he's lived in.

It's the hubris of it that sets him up to fall into Elgar'nan's hands. Lucanis is back. But Illario can't go back. Illario can't give up what he's sacrificed so much for. Can't go back to being Dellamorte the lesser with no say in his own future. So, of course he doubles down, kidnaps Caterina, and makes a deal with Elgar'nan- the way he sees it he's backed into a corner and has no one but himself. And at this point in the story he's not wrong. He has no idea what Lucanis has become (Other than not dead! Which was the plan!)

It's interesting to me how what I think is Illario's own desire to live on his own terms is... In a very horrible way the thing that ultimately leads to Lucanis also beginning to ask what it means to live on his own terms too.

Having Lucanis killed was heartbreaking and terrible. But it's also the very thing that breaks the cycle the three Dellamortes are living in. Illario is the one who, in a way, decides that what the three of them are doing is unacceptable and starts them on a new path for the first time in roughly 30 years.

Illario having the ambition to reach for what he wants, is what sets both cousins free from a long-standing cycle of abuse. It's just also a profoundly twisted and cruel process.

[thereweredragonshere]

Just watched the httyd live action trailer and there are so many things I could complain about (just the fact that it exists being one of them) but like

They changed the structure of Toothless' hind legs??? In the original his hind legs function the way human legs do, his heel is flat in the ground and the bend of his leg is his knee, making him a plantigrade. But in the live action the bend of his leg is in his ankle?? They made him a digitigrade??? Why??? For what purpose???

[houseswife]

wilson saying “I need to do this. for you.” is fucking insane actually. in the same episode where house is deciding whether or not he should commit suicide as a result of wilson’s dying. They are each other’s lines between life and death. humans have a biological instinct to preserve their survival at all costs; house has an addiction that governs his life. but they were willing to forgo all of it for one another, because they couldn’t fathom it being any other way. IM SICK

[dinoserious]

invertober day 23, orange-legged drone fly. close up!

[littledemo0n]

Excuse me im just gonna spam all of these over here...(part 1 [yes there's more])

[lunar-wandering]

anyways even if the animation quality drops for season 5 i am BEGGING you guys to still watch the show. protest about the animation quality publicly if you want but still watch the show. there is a full entire chance that the next season could go back to being animated how it was before if they see enough interest in it. please still watch the show.

[socksandcrocs]

rip king you would have loved among us

[juvian]

“It eats dust in the atmosphere. The composition of the dust determines the color of its core.”

Do not repost!