#horses first fic

[rorah]

Anyway some Dimileth compilation, and some others dmlth AUs

[altschmerzes]

having the same tropes that you go back to time and time again even when you don't mean to is so like,,, you do the thing Again and it's like damn i really am like this. you're writing a fic you didn't plan to Do The Thing in and all of a sudden it's like-

[amielot]

Rainfall

[separatist-apologist]

I cut your username out of this post because I don't want to unintentionally direct anyone over to you. I do believe you're sorry, and I also believe you didn't intend for any of the things that transpired TO transpire.

I want to answer this, though, because I genuinely believe a LOT of the people who logged out last night to flame the fic are on this website watching, and I want to speak directly to them. I'll never know who they are, and thats unfortunate because to me, it looks like a lot of other people are content to let you be thrown under the bus while taking no accountability for their actions.

I want to share this comment FROM the fic writer who responded to me when I left a comment this morning both condemning the actions of fellow gwynriel/eluciens and encouraging her to continue writing. Look at what she said. She had a mini-breakdown because a small but obnoxiously loud group of people took it upon themselves to not just leave unkind, unnecessary feedback, but to start whole threads about it, take it to other platforms, and otherwise talk shit because a story had *checks notes* conflict.

The fic is tagged: slowburn, eventual romance, AND the elain x azriel relationship. She did her due diligence as far as what she owes people- ya'll don't read tags and engage with the story like it was written specifically FOR you. First of all- it was written for ME. But lets pretend it wasn't, because I think the only reason people are backtracking is because I took offense. You shouldn't do this to ANYONE.

EVER!!!!

And I see a lot of ya'll writing your first fics and your comments are always something to the flavor of "be kind, I'm new/nervous/worried" and then you turn around and do this stuff to other writers like you're OWED your very specific vision of what these characters are, should be, or should act like.

This happens TOO OFTEN in this ship, and frankly, I'm tired of it. You guys will turn on people writing in your own ship if it doesn't adhere to YOUR specific, NARROW vision of "canon" (FANON) and wholesale bully people out, and whats left? A bunch of chronically online assholes whining that no one wants to draw art, write fic, or participate because they're afraid of you. Ya'll act like this is some moral crusade and if you ship the "right" thing, you can't possibly be a bully.

But its just bullying, dressed up as passion for the ship.

This isn't directed at you, OP- I'm talking to the other people who are letting you fall on this sword, who are absolutely watching this, who participated, and will likely to continue acting like this. But they'll be the first to scream and sob when another anonymous blog pops up to talk the same shit, and there will no irony or awareness around any of it. This is the culture some of you have created. Shocking you get it back in ten fold.

[cuubism]

tormenting dreamling in all new ways in my wip fic about kelpies. get horsed, hob. get shot with a gun, hob. fall in love with a creature that kind of wanted to eat you, dream.

[scionshtola]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt 1 - Steer

pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul rating: G | word count: 854 words notes: some rodeo au to start us off :> Part of Y'shtola's first day on the ranch

“Is this really necessary?”

Y’shtola looked down from her seat in the saddle—were horses usually so tall?--and met Corisande’s friendly gaze. Their arms bracketed Y’shtola, one hand still holding the reins and the other resting on the horse’s body behind the saddle, which made her feel somewhat more secure.

“You’re working on a ranch, miss,” Corisande replied. “You should know how to ride a horse on your own.”

“Are there no other ways to get around the ranch?” She had seen several pickup trucks on her way in this morning. Surely they were just as capable of getting them around the property.

“Riding’s the easiest. Besides, the Haillenarte’s own a lot of land, and some places you can only get to by horseback. With all the research you talked about doing on grounds, Miss Rhul, I know you’ll want to see them.”

Y’shtola narrowed her eyes at them, and only got the same friendly smile in return. But the sincerity of their expression, framed by soft red fringe and two braids that hung sweetly in front of their shoulders, and their polite but firm insistence on referring to her as “miss”--which, to her surprise, she found rather charming—set her at ease. 

The appeal to her work on the ranch grounds did not hurt, either, which Corisande seemed to know, as she held the reins out to Y’shtola before she had given her assent. Y’shtola took them and squared her shoulders.

“There’s no need to worry, Pepper is a sweet horse,” Corisande said gently, patting the horse’s flank. Her black coat was flecked with a yellow that glinted in the sun. “She’ll do most of the work, once you learn how to steer her.”

For the next forty five minutes, Corisande taught her exactly that. She showed Y’shtola how to hold the reins properly between her fingers; how to guide the horse into a turn by opening her arm in the direction she wanted to go, keeping the other steady to avoid drifting as they walked around the paddock; how to use her legs to do the same. 

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Corisande said the next time Y’shtola pulled Pepper to a stop at her side. She gestured for Y’shtola to follow her across the paddock on horseback, opening the gate and letting them through. Y’shtola watched as she loaded a few small bags onto Pepper’s saddle, before taking Y’shtola’s own backpack and slinging the straps over her shoulders. “I think you’re ready to see the whole ranch now.”

Y’shtola only had a moment to feel satisfied at how quickly she had learned before Corisande pulled herself neatly into the saddle behind her, her hands politely on Y’shtola’s waist as she settled in.

“We’re to share?” Y’shtola said in surprise. “Don’t you have your own horse?”

“This is my horse,” Corisande replied, her amusement evident in her tone. 

Y’shtola fought the urge to roll her eyes, even though Corisande could not see her. “You know what I mean. Why did you teach me to ride, if you were going to ride with me anyway?”

“It’s a good skill to have out here,” Corisande said. “What if something happened to me, and you needed to get back for help on your own? Cell service isn’t particularly reliable out here, you know.”

“Do you anticipate becoming incapacitated? Is there perhaps another, more competent hand to guide me in your stead?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Corisande said. That the statement was not itself a question, and that they sounded far more amused rather than irritated, strangely pleased Y’shtola. 

She pushed the feeling to the side before she answered. “Yes, I do.”

Corisande laughed, and the gentle sound of it in Y’shtola’s ear brought a slight smile to her lips. 

“You learned to steer a horse at little more than a trot. For now, if you want to see as much as you can today, it’s best you let me take the lead. If that sounds alright to you, miss, then we will be on our way.”

Y’shtola couldn’t argue with that—she had been able to make her way around the paddock with no assistance, at a speed that would not take them very far around the property. And now that she had gotten over her surprise, she could admit to herself that Corisande’s earlier point was equally valid—it was good to know, in case of an emergency.

“It sounds fine to me,” she acquiesced, and relinquished the reins to Corisande. 

Their hands brushed hers for a moment, a warmth in the touch that did something strange to Y’shtola’s stomach. She tried not to think about it, but with their arms around her, she had no choice but to lean into their chest. With unfortunately heated cheeks, she realized she was very aware of all their points of contact. Their chest to her back, their legs fitted together, their biceps framing her waist. 

When Corisande nudged the horse into motion, Y’shtola took a steadying breath, willing the warmth in her face to fade, and let her guide them to their destination.

[daily-table21]

Video: 2020 NFL Draft 1st Round Recap

Status: Public

Link: 2020 NFL Draft 1st Round Recap - YouTube

Date Posted: April 25th 2020

[urne-buriall]

may 26, 1997

Dean Winchester's had a tough go of it lately. Meanwhile, Jo's watched "The Craft" (1996) a few too many times. There's nothing a horseback ride and some occult rituals can't fix, right?

happy spirit of the west daily day one! so begins the destiel "horse girl novel." pictured above is a palomino, the horse colouring characterized by golden hair and a white mane/tail, as our gentle Fleetwood has, whom Dean takes out to ride this morning

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

[altschmerzes]

A Series of Narrow Escapes

(an immediately post-season 3 Slow Horses oneshot where river and louisa awkwardly figure out being friends and caring for each other. gen, no ships. @louisaguy happy birthday babes i hope you like it!!)

The problem is River. Or, more specifically, it’s the way that every time Louisa blinks, the afterimage of River laying on the ground between those shelves, covered in debris, is burned into the backs of her eyelids. It wouldn’t have been so bad, probably, if he hadn’t had to take off immediately to deal with that folder, or if Louisa had said fuck the debrief and gone with him. If they hadn’t been separated right after making it out of the hatch, they — or, at least, Louisa would probably be fine. But they were. Separated. -- Post season 3. Louisa and River share a bowl of dry cereal, a difficult conversation, and a bed, in that order.

read on ao3

[impishtubist]

There probably is some meta to be found in the fact that the fandom had to make Remus a big tall broad-shouldered muscled buff handsome alpha jock sex god in order to ship him with Sirius...............hmm much to consider.

[too-many-rooks]

There’s a story, to tell David Cartwright, the Old Bastard, facilitator of the future of Les Arbes.

That his daughter, flighty and spiteful and rebellious, had finally taken things too far by running off and having a baby with one of the worst spectres of his career. In buying her freedom, David had bought his seven-year-old grandson too. In exchange for this grand, unasked for act of heroic sacrifice, Cartwright felt entitled to spend his summers with the boy, felt he deserved the chance to love him, and teach him, and mould him in his own image to follow in his footsteps and uphold the family legacy.

But River has a family already. A legacy to live up to, a father lighting his path, sheparding him toward his future.

Because the story is a lie, a cover; and every summer, River Harkness leaves his home at Les Arbes, to become River Cartwright.

A simple double agent.

As any good enemy deserved.

[aeide-thea]

[art-of-wackylurker]

Well hello there, who's up for some fucked up horse?

Hogsteed, ladies and gentlemen. Or Hellspawns, as some might call them...

So yea it's one of the species I'm making up for fanfic purposes as none of the existing creatures in the SW universe (both canon and legends) fit my needs. Also because I'm making up a whole planet as none of the existing ones was just about right for me...

Here's the design, more detailed info will appear later. Somewhere. When I finally get myself to continue writing that fanfic. Yea...

[foccaccia]

does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians

[vimesbootstheory]

according to my outline, I am 91% of the way through this fic, woooo