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mihai-florescu · 1 year ago

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Mutual 1: it's so over

Mutual 2: *walking encyclopedia of every obscure 2d idol project* you should get into argonavis

Mutual 3: i think my headaches these past few days are from the cyanide ive been eating

Mutual 1: we're so back!!!!

Mutual 4: it's friday, pass the yaoi

Mutual 1: it's so over

Mutual 5: i think im scared of being known and loved

Mutual 6: i would actually kill for a croissant rn

Mutual 1: we're so back!!!!!!

Mutual 7: tatsumi kazehaya would NOT be homophobic just because he's christian, stop applying a western lens on japanese media.

Mutual 8: i love my wife:D

Mutual 9: *fanart of an anime boy as a jesus christ figure, with a queer interpretation of christ's side wound*

Mutual 10: should i drop out?

Mutual 11: everyone should read ep:link and blackbird and tempest and sanctuary and

Mutual 12: i made some yummy pasta today :D *photo of yummy pasta*

Mutual 1: it's so over...

Mutual 13:

Midway upon the journey of our life

I found myself within a forest dark,

For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say

What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,

Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So bitter is it, death is little more;

But of the good to treat, which there I found,

Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

I cannot well repeat how there I entered,

So full was I of slumber at the moment

In which I had abandoned the true way.

But after I had reached a mountain’s foot,

At that point where the valley terminated,

Which had with consternation pierced my heart,

Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,

Vested already with that planet’s rays

Which leadeth others right by every road.

Then was the fear a little quieted

That in my heart’s lake had endured throughout

The night, which I had passed so piteously.

And even as he, who, with distressful breath,

Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,

Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,

Turn itself back to re-behold the pass

Which never yet a living person left.

After my weary body I had rested,

The way resumed I on the desert slope,

So that the firm foot ever was the lower.

And lo! almost where the ascent began,

A panther light and swift exceedingly,

Which with a spotted skin was covered o’er!

And never moved she from before my face,

Nay, rather did impede so much my way,

That many times I to return had turned.

The time was the beginning of the morning,

And up the sun was mounting with those stars

That with him were, what time the Love Divine

At first in motion set those beauteous things;

So were to me occasion of good hope,

The variegated skin of that wild beast,

The hour of time, and the delicious season;

But not so much, that did not give me fear

A lion’s aspect which appeared to me.

He seemed as if against me he were coming

With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,

So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;

And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings

Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,

And many folk has caused to live forlorn!

She brought upon me so much heaviness,

With the affright that from her aspect came,

That I the hope relinquished of the height.

And as he is who willingly acquires,

And the time comes that causes him to lose,

Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,

E’en such made me that beast withouten peace,

Which, coming on against me by degrees

Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.

While I was rushing downward to the lowland,

Before mine eyes did one present himself,

Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.

When I beheld him in the desert vast,

“Have pity on me,” unto him I cried,

“Whiche’er thou art, or shade or real man!”

He answered me: “Not man; man once I was,

And both my parents were of Lombardy,

And Mantuans by country both of them.

‘Sub Julio’ was I born, though it was late,

And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,

During the time of false and lying gods.

A poet was I, and I sang that just

Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,

After that Ilion the superb was burned.

But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?

Why climb’st thou not the Mount Delectable,

Which is the source and cause of every joy?”

“Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain

Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?”

I made response to him with bashful forehead.

“O, of the other poets honour and light,

Avail me the long study and great love

That have impelled me to explore thy volume!

Thou art my master, and my author thou,

Thou art alone the one from whom I took

The beautiful style that has done honour to me.

Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;

Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,

For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.”

“Thee it behoves to take another road,”

Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,

“If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;

Because this beast, at which thou criest out,

Suffers not any one to pass her way,

But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;

And has a nature so malign and ruthless,

That never doth she glut her greedy will,

And after food is hungrier than before.

Many the animals with whom she weds,

And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound

Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.

He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,

But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;

’Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;

Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,

On whose account the maid Camilla died,

Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;

Through every city shall he hunt her down,

Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,

There from whence envy first did let her loose.

Therefore I think and judge it for thy best

Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,

And lead thee hence through the eternal place,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,

Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,

Who cry out each one for the second death;

And thou shalt see those who contented are

Within the fire, because they hope to come,

Whene’er it may be, to the blessed people;

To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,

A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;

With her at my departure I will leave thee;

Because that Emperor, who reigns above,

In that I was rebellious to his law,

Wills that through me none come into his city.

He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;

There is his city and his lofty throne;

O happy he whom thereto he elects!”

And I to him: “Poet, I thee entreat,

By that same God whom thou didst never know,

So that I may escape this woe and worse,

Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,

That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,

And those thou makest so disconsolate.”

Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.

#i took artistic liberties by taking both from tumblr and twitter things ive seen #from mutuals from both here and there

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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Among the Sun Ch 20

Description: You and Andreas spend some time together in the gardens before he is due to depart.

Ch 21

“Do you remember when we were younger, and your brother threw a spider into your lap during studies?” Andreas asks, a wide smile on his face, his deep brown skin, tanned further from his day in the sunny western shores of Opzelua glowed in the noonday sun. His curls wild—ruffled by the strong winds of the day—released from the hold he had coaxed them into the night of the ball.

“I remember how you screamed and left me to die alone.” You say, elbowing him sharply when he laughs.

“I was ten, what could you have expected?” His laugh is infectious, coaxing a laugh from you, the frown falling from your lips.

“For you to help me?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “You asked too much of a poor librarian’s nephew.”

You roll your eyes, the wind catching in your hair and lifting a few strands as you knelt down beside a pond, colorful koi fish swimming contently just below the surface. “Ah yes, a poor child who enjoyed the privileges of royalty while mercifully avoiding each and every one of its burdens. What a miserable child you must have been.”

Andreas kneels beside you, taking a bag of pellets from his belt and tossing a few in for the fish. “I did not avoid every burden, I was still married off, just as you were.”

You lean back on your hands, soft grass pillowing your palms, and tilt your face up towards the sky. “I think it is going to rain.”

He looks up as well. “There is not a cloud in the sky—y/n!” He sputters, when you splash him with water, a mischievous smile on your face.

“Was it not you who said it was callous to make light of my situation?” You ask, flinging yourself to the ground when Andreas attempts to splash you back, landing on your side facing him.

“Was it not you who said that you were not caged within your marriage?” He shoots back.

You snort when Andreas joins you on the ground, both sets of your fine clothing being stained by grass. “It is not so bad; the emperor is kind to me.”

“That is good to hear.” He says. His eyes are a dazzling forest green, nearly glowing with a supernatural light, a remnant from his mother’s side of the family.

“I cannot say it is a love like the one shared between you and your late wife, but it is beginning to sprout. Perhaps in time it will bloom.” You pick at a blade of grass, holding it up and watching as the wind takes it.

“You do not wish for love like mine, love in great measure brings grief in equal.” Andreas says, his eyes downcast, his voice soft, mournful, ripped away by the wind.

“My friend…” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “I mourn your loss as well, do not shoulder it alone, I am here for you, share it with me.”

Andreas rolls onto his back, eyes closed against the sun. “Myra was beautiful, kind beyond measure, brilliant beyond boast, and a wonderful companion. Never did a morn come, I did not thank the gods that she was beside me, that she chose me . A foreign born, former servant, with nothing to offer her beside my utter devotion.”

“But she did choose you.” You say, smiling sadly at the way he fidgeted with his fingers. A trait you picked up from him, a clear, subconscious sign of difficulty speaking, of vulnerability.

“She did, she could have had anyone, and yet she chose me. She loved me, accepted my devotion and in return catapulted me to power. Though I would have taken her if dowry was nothing but a snippet of her voice, a fleeting touch of her hands, a glimpse of her smile. She could have had nothing, and I would have considered myself a richer man than any king.”

You bite your lip, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. Andreas always spoke so eloquently but his inflection, the way he weaved his words together, spoke volumes of his adoration for his late wife.

“I do not think I shall ever love again, how can I, when my heart is entombed in stone along with my dearest light?” He takes a deep shuttering breath, and you are aware of what he must say next.

“You do not have to speak of it if you truly do not wish to.” You tell him, lying on your back as well, giving him further privacy, so he no longer had to feel your eyes on him.

“It was late at night, we had been riding all day, a wolf ran out into the road lunged at her horse, scared it. It took off running, and I gave chase, shouting her name, but something had happened, and it tripped, sent her tumbling off. The healers said she died quickly, painlessly, a broken neck, it was a clean break, nothing compared to the violent shattering of my heart.”

You choke back a sob, heavy grief for your friend, for yourself, for everyone you have lost, for everyone Andreas has lost begins piling onto your chest like great boulders. You are glad when clouds began to cover the sky, a gloomy atmosphere felt more respectful to the tale your dearest friend was telling.

“I must admit, I went quite mad with grief. Ordered every wolf in the vicinity hunted down, brought their pelts to her side. I do not know whether I wished to show her I had avenged her, or if it was some kind of twisted offering, but I could do nothing else. She was the one I wished to turn to, who I wished would comfort me, and she was gone. Now I must live on, for the sake of her people, her child.”

“You have a child?” You manage to ask, voice all but swallowed by a clap of thunder.

“A son, Leon, he is a bright boy, happy, loved, he is in the care of his grandmother while I am here. I will depart tonight to be reunited with him.” Andreas sits up and gives you, his hand.

You take it, tears slipping down your face mixing with the rain. “I am overjoyed to hear you have a small spot of brightness within your gloom.”

He nods, a weak but true smile on his face. “I will have his portrait sent to you, perhaps the Princess Gabrielle will find him suitable in the future.”

“Your schemes grow bolder with age, I see.” You laugh, but you know Andreas can see through your bravado.

“Y/N, there is no shame in grief, have you even mourned the life you once had?”

You stand with his assistance, the air thick with rain. “What is there to mourn?”

He squeezes your hand. “Your stubbornness grows with age as well.”

“I have mourned, I ensure you.” You have, you have mourned your life many times over, but it does you no good to dwell on it.

“Then why are you crying?”

You give him a watery laugh. “I am crying for you, my dearest friend who has lost the love of his wife, do you think me so selfish your story would not move me to tears?”

He hugs you, a warm, strong hug, filled with childhood memories and shared grief. “I would never think you selfish, I only thought you had outgrown such a phase. You cannot continue always crying for others y/n, or you will run out of tears.”

You cried as Miguel took you from your home, as he held you impossibly tight as he slept, the wind beating the canvas walls, you cried when he locked you in your first chambers, then you did not cry again, but now? Now you sob into Andreas’ chest because you grieve for him, for his son, and you grieve for your life before, for your mother who was left alone with the bodies of your family and a frightened kingdom. You cry for the young y/n, and the young Miguel, who did not know how their lives would unravel.

“My Lady, the emperor wishes to see you in his study.” Peter, Miguel’s third in command, says, his face cherry red as if he walked in on you and Andreas bare and intertwined.

You release Andreas. “You will write to me, yes, when you return home?”

“Of course, and you must reply, or I will assume you’ve been held hostage and mount a rescue.” He gives you one last smile, then makes his way back into the palace.

You watch over your shoulder as he goes, you both are walking in opposite directions, backs to each other, and you raise your face to the sky once more, letting the rain wash away your tears. You are on separate paths, but your staring points will always remain the same, tethered together by homelands, by grief.

“I will assume that encounter was perfectly honorable, as you seem a woman who wishes to keep her life.” Peter jests, giving you a playful smile.

“It was.” You do not have the energy for Peter’s boyish enthusiasm. Grief has sapped the strength from your bones, and you wish to rest.

“Pray the emperor believes you as well.”

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin, @faexsins, @drefear, @scorpihoooe, @mellowvisions15

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #halfdemon!miguel #emperor!miguel #princess!reader #Andreas is such a good friend #we love him #among the sun #ams

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nandangel · 1 month ago

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Chapter One — The Hunt

5172 words | mainlist

Candace Turner

The process of change, whatever it may be, is always good—most of the time. At least for me, changes only came during my darkest moments, like a light at the end of the tunnel.

Since I left my parents' house at a very young age, I’ve always dedicated myself to owning my things and not depending on anyone. I graduated in the field I always dreamed of, and today I can say I’m about eighty percent complete.

At twenty-seven years old, I’m one of the most sought-after authors of erotic romance novels. Well, my parents don’t approve of the content I write—they say it’s inappropriate for a young lady—but it’s what makes me a lot of money and, most importantly, it’s what I love to do. And, between us, everyone enjoys reading something spicy from time to time.

I’m temporarily moving to Missoula, a small town in western Montana, for work. I needed a place that could inspire me to write a complete series about a wolf romance, and Missoula is perfect for that, with its vast green areas, gorgeous forests straight out of a Twilight movie, and its rocky mountains.

It had been nearly a year and a half since I’d released anything new for my readers, and the almost 5 million followers on Twitter, Instagram, and Goodreads weren’t shy about sending me messages, asking when my next series would come out. As if having nearly 60 books, most of which sold out worldwide, one movie, and two Netflix series weren’t enough—they still craved more.

I was going through the exhausting process of creative block—the terror of all writers—and the more trapped I felt in it, the worse it got. If only I had to deal with just the loving fans. But there was the media, my publisher, demanding fans, and the haters.

As if all this pressure wasn’t enough, one completely drunken night, I decided to tweet about an upcoming book series, accompanied by heart and wolf emojis.

The next day, my phone was flooded with notifications and calls. Fans were saying I’d make the Twilight author cry in the shower, others saying it was about time. My publisher was ecstatic, while I was pulling my hair out.

The truth? I had absolutely nothing planned. I’d never even written anything supernatural before. My books were limited to romances with CEOs, bad boys, and alpha-male types who, deep down, were just softies.

I didn’t know what to tell my publisher, so I started researching and reading books on the topic. Some ideas came to mind, but they weren’t enough. Then, during my research, I came across the tale of “The Mysterious and Strange Werewolf of Montana.” It detailed the story of a farmer in Missoula who constantly found his livestock mutilated and dead until he installed security cameras that captured footage of an unbelievably large wolf attacking the cattle.

What caught my attention was one clip supposedly showing the “wolf” transforming into what appeared to be a man. It was later proven that the man faked the whole thing to keep thieves away from his property, which made sense because werewolves don’t exist—and if they did, they wouldn’t show off on camera.

But that wild story sparked inspiration for my wolf romance.

My phone rang, interrupting the music in my car.

— Hello? — I answered, keeping my eyes on the road.

— Candy, where are you? — I heard Quinne’s voice over the car’s speaker. She used the nickname Candy because, to her, my name and the word sounded almost the same.

— About twenty minutes from Missoula. — I replied, admiring the tree-lined road. — The air here is so fresh.

— Where? — Quinne practically yelled. — What are you doing on the other side of the country?

— Work.— I said, smiling.

— Did you really have to go that far? Couldn’t you, I don’t know, just make a vision board with photos of forests, hot men, and wolves?

— You know I couldn’t, Queen. — I said, using the nickname I gave her, which I thought sounded like Queen.

— You’ve never had to leave New York to write your previous books.

— That’s because all the inspiration was in the city.

— What made you want to write about wolves? They don’t even exist.

— Alcohol, maybe.

— Do you think you’ll finish before Christmas?

— I don’t know, Queen. I have an outline, but I haven’t started anything yet. — I answered as I passed a sign reading “Welcome to Missoula.”

— I get it, darling, but you know how David is. He went crazy when you posted that.

— I know, but he can’t forget that I’m the reason his pockets are overflowing with cash. So, you can tell him that pressuring me won’t work. — I said while parking near some stores. — — You know it doesn’t work that way.

— I know, you need to get into character. — she said, quoting my usual mantra. — Take your time and leave David to me.

— Thank you.

— Of course. I’ll call every night to check in and keep you updated.

— Great, because I’ll be—

— Disconnected from the world, I know. — she finished my sentence. Whenever I started writing, I ignored all social media distractions, only answering calls from my parents and Quinne.

— Thanks, Queen.

— Always count on me, Candy. Talk soon.

After hanging up, I got out of the car and walked to the rental agency I had contacted two weeks earlier.

As soon as I entered, a gentleman who looked to be in his fifties greeted me with a friendly smile.

— You must be Miss Turner.

— How did you know it was me?— I asked, smiling as I approached the counter.

— I know everyone around here. — he shrugged. — And you’re the only person planning to enjoy summer in a chilly town.

— If only I were here for leisure, Mr….— I searched my mind for his name, but his name tag saved me. — Conway.

— Work? — I nodded. — Well, let me get your keys.— He turned to a board behind him, grabbed a key, and handed it to me. — Please sign this document and keep the copy with the house rules.

After signing the papers, I paid the second installment, and Mr. Conway handed me a map of the area.

— Oh, and Miss Turner. — he called just as I was about to leave.

— Yes? — I turned around.

— Of all the places in this town, just don’t go to the Kim Forest Reserve.

— Why not? — I frowned.

— Just don’t.

[...]

The night in Missoula went smoothly, without much surprise or calls, except for Quinne, who just wanted to check in and see if everything was okay with me. Taking advantage of the quiet night, I organized my things and started writing: I outlined the characters' traits and drafted a scope for the entire story. Before going to bed, I paused my reading to jot down the inspirations that came to mind, and after that, I finally decided to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up relatively early, got ready for a morning walk that always helps me reconnect with my muse. As I left the house, I set my phone to alert me if I went beyond a certain perimeter to avoid getting lost, because every time I go out running and listening to music, I lose track of time and distance.

After running for about thirty minutes, I made a few stops to jot down some ideas that popped into my head, then resumed running. After more than an hour and a half of walking, my phone alerted me, and I gradually slowed down, removing my headphones to enjoy the sound of the birds. I caught my breath slowly while stretching a little, and as I turned around, I noticed a worn-out sign next to an old iron gate. The sign read:

Kim Family Forest Reserve. Private Property. Do Not Enter Without Permission.

At that moment, Mr. Conway's words echoed in my head like a warning, and God forbid I go against the advice of a man who seemed to know the town like the back of his hand. But honestly, just looking at the reserve from afar, I could tell it was a stunning place. If it weren’t for Conway’s warning and the sign that clearly screamed, If you enter, you’ll be shot!, I might have dared to go in because I was certain it would be an excellent place to write a book. Just standing there, looking, I already got a few more ideas.

However, staying there gave me an odd feeling that made the back of my neck prickle and a chill run down my spine—the sensation of being watched and followed. Strangely, there was no one around; aside from the reserve, there were no houses nearby, and with the branches scattered on the ground, I would have heard if someone was close.

With the tension building, I hurried back home as quickly as I could. Once I got home, I decided to prepare something for breakfast, only to sadly realize that I didn’t have anything decent in the fridge. Then I remembered that just past the rental agency, there was a typical neighborhood diner that most likely served a delicious and classic American breakfast. With this thought making my mouth water, I rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

[...]

I park my car in one of the spots right in front of the diner, grab my bag and coat since the city occasionally has some pretty chilly winds. As soon as I step into the diner, I’m greeted by the delightful smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon with eggs, instantly transporting me to old New York in the 1960s. Before I know it, my eyes are closed, and a subtle smile graces my lips. When I open them again, several elderly men and women are staring at me with strange looks, as if I were some kind of weirdo.

Embarrassed, I quickly make my way to the last table near the large windows. A few minutes later, a beautiful young woman approaches me:

— Welcome to Wendy’s Food. What can I get you? — she asks with a tired yet friendly smile. I read her name on her badge, which says: Léna.

— Good morning. — I return her smile. — What’s the most popular dish here?

She lets out a little laugh and replies:

— Scrambled eggs with bacon.

— Then I’ll have that.

— Okay. — She notes it down on her little notepad. — Anything to drink?

— Hmm… — I mumble, picking up the menu and giving it a quick glance. — Lemon iced tea.

— Sure! — She writes again. — Your order will be ready soon. Would you like a cup of coffee?

— Oh... I…

— It’s on the house for tourists. — I look at her, surprised. Does everyone in this town know I’m an outsider? Seriously? It’s not like I’m the most different-looking person here; I’m not even blonde or redheaded. — Excuse me?…

— How do I know you’re a tourist? — I nod. — You asked what the most popular dish is, and everyone who lives here knows it’s scrambled eggs with bacon.

— Good point. — I shrug. — I’ll take the coffee.

While waiting for Léna to bring the coffee, I pull out my phone and turn on mobile data. As expected, a flood of notifications rolls across my screen, almost freezing my phone. I quickly let Quinne know that the book stuff is going well and reply to my parents about how I’m doing. Just as I put my phone away, Léna brings me a piping hot coffee and moves on to serve other customers.

As I take a sip of my coffee, the diner’s doorbell chimes, and I see someone walk in. That’s when I literally burn my lips on the coffee. The culprit behind my little mishap is, without a doubt, the most gorgeous and smoldering man I’ve ever seen—even more than the characters from my books. He’s tall, with well-defined, deliciously proportional muscles. His skin is slightly tanned, smooth, and free of any blemishes or hair. His eyes are almond-shaped and dark, and his lips... oh, his lips are the most luscious and tempting thing I’ve ever seen. Sweet Jesus, he could easily beat Henry Cavill in the "most handsome man in the world" category.

— Shit. — I curse under my breath as the heat stings my lips.

— You alright there? — A deep, velvety voice addresses me, and when I follow the sound, it’s the gorgeous man who made me burn my mouth.

— Oh... I-I’m fine. — He just nods, looking at me intently, and holy shit, I might have dampened my panties and felt my clit throb stupidly just from a damn look.

The hottie joins a group of six men who walked in with him, all of them good-looking too, but none quite as much as him. Strangely, they seem to command a lot of respect here because all the chatter in the diner stops, replaced by an odd silence.

Léna drops off my order and heads over to their table, and I could swear I saw her kiss one of them. To avoid further embarrassment, I decide to focus on eating, heading back home, and doing what I actually came here to do. However, it’s hard to concentrate when I feel like I’m being watched, and that same sensation I felt earlier in the morning returns.

Even though I should be scared or worried—because it could very well be some damn psycho stalking me—I don’t feel anything close to fear or concern. It’s more like a sense of unease and yearning, as if I need to find someone or something.

[...]

I’m running down a deserted road, not knowing what was chasing me, but whatever it was, it filled me with fear. I couldn’t scream or call for help—it felt like my vocal cords had been ripped out. The more I ran, the more the road seemed endless. Just as I approached a village, the thing chasing me caught up, and I couldn’t break free because it was too strong. But before I could wake from this terrible nightmare, I heard a distant voice saying: He is your savior, your destined companion, and you are the chosen one to bring him peace.

I bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding frantically, and I still feel the grip of what caught me. The fear lingers, even though I know it was just a nightmare.

The silver light of the moon filters through the bedroom window, and I can’t believe I’ve only slept for a few hours—it feels like much longer. The last thing I remember was resting my head on the pillow after hours of typing, and I’m sure I went to bed quite late.

Sliding out of bed, I shiver, my mouth dry as cotton. I place the pillow back and slowly make my way down the hallway to the bathroom. With each step, I feel like I’m being watched, and for a moment, it terrifies me.

Peeling off my T-shirt, I shudder at the sensation of cold sweat trickling down my back. I let the shirt drop to the floor and step out of my jeans. I turn on the bathtub, letting cold water flow, and step in while still in my lingerie, gradually feeling my body calm down.

After spending nearly the entire day writing, using my nightmare as bizarre inspiration, I look for my best outfit in my suitcase. On a whim, I decide to visit the town’s bar—maybe a drink and some dancing will help me with the book and give me some much-needed fun.

Since the house I’m staying in isn’t far from town and there’s still some daylight left, I take a walk, enjoying my own company at the end of the day.

As soon as I enter the bar, I notice there aren’t many people—some older men are drinking beer and occasionally glancing at the waitress’s rear. There are only two young men at a table near the door, but they don’t seem particularly happy. An old country song plays over the speakers, the lighting is dim, and the place feels more like a funeral than a bar.

— What’ll it be, ma’am? — The old bartender asks as I sit on a stool in front of him.

— Hmmm… do you have Bombay Sapphire Gin? — He gives me a look as if I’ve spoken in another language, and I immediately hear someone laughing beside me.

— This isn’t New York. — That voice, I could never forget it. When I turn to confirm my suspicion, I find myself face-to-face with the handsome guy from the diner. — The fanciest drink you’ll find here is cheap bourbon.

— We don’t have that here, ma’am. — the bartender says, looking slightly embarrassed.

— That’s okay. — I smile. — I’ll have what he’s having.

The diner guy grins and raises an eyebrow. Moments later, the bartender hands me a cold bottle of beer. I take a sip and nearly spit it out—it’s the worst beer I’ve ever tasted! The guy must’ve noticed because he starts laughing at me again.

— Jesus! This is awful. — I grimace. — It tastes like kerosene and corn.

His laughter grows louder, and I can’t help but laugh along.

— Joe, get her that bourbon on the rocks. — he says to the bartender, still chuckling. — You’re funny, city girl.

I smile as Joe serves the woody-tasting drink, which, thank God, is much better.

— Hmm…

— Much better, right? — I nod.

— Why do you drink that beer?

— I learned to like it. — he shrugs. — So, are you just visiting?

— Actually, I’m here for work.

— Oh! — He feigns interest, smirking. — What kind of work brings you to this thrilling town?

— I’m a writer of fictional romance novels.

— So, you write porn? — I give him a smile.

— I’d call it beautiful porn. — He smiles back.

— I expected you to get mad at me.

— Why? — I take another sip of the bourbon.

— I thought calling your work porn would offend you somehow.

— Oh, not at all! It’s my job, and I love doing it.

— That’s interesting. — he says with a slightly lascivious grin. — What are you writing about now?

— A supernatural romance.

— Tell me more.

— No. — I smile. — You’ll have to wait to find out.

— Fair enough. — he grins and takes another sip of his beer. — By the way, what’s your name?

— Candace Turner. — I offer my hand. — And yours?

— Namjoon. — he says, shaking my hand.

We talk for a long time about random things, laughing quite a bit. I avoid personal topics—I don’t want to create any awkwardness with a guy I’ll likely never see again once I leave. I’ve also had too much bourbon—not enough to be drunk out of my mind, but just enough to feel light and a little sleepy.

— Well, I think I should get going.

— Do you need a ride? — I stare at him for a good minute. Damn, he’s gorgeous. — What?

— I’m trying to figure out if you’re a serial killer.

— Oh, yes, you caught me. Should I kill you now that you know my secret? — I laugh, but his intense gaze makes me blush.

— I’m staying in a house about 30 minutes from here. I can walk.

— No way! — He exclaims, standing up as I do. — Come on, I’ll give you a ride.

— Joe, should I trust him? — I ask the bartender, who’s wiping down glasses.

The old man smiles.

— Yes. Mr. Kim is a good guy.

— Mr. Kim? — I raise an eyebrow.

— I can answer your questions on the way. — Namjoon says.

As we leave the bar, Namjoon walks to a pickup truck parked right in front, opens the door for me, and climbs in after me.

— So, you own the nature reserve? — I ask as he starts the car.

— Not just me. It belongs to my family, too. — he says, focusing on the road. — It was my father’s wish that we all live together before he passed.”

— Oh, I’m sorry.

— It’s fine. It’s been a while. — he gives me a small smile and glances at me briefly.

Thirty minutes later, Namjoon parks in front of the house, staring at me. His gaze alternates between my lips and my eyes. If he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him, I’ll take the chance. If it’s all just my slightly drunken imagination, I’ll pretend it never happened.

— Go ahead. — I say, unbuckling my seatbelt and leaning closer.

That’s all it takes—he becomes the first guy with quick reflexes I’ve ever met, because seconds later, his soft lips are on mine, giving me the best kiss I’ve ever had.

His hands roam my hair and my waist, pulling me closer, and with a bit of sass on my part, I get out of my seat and jump onto his lap, running my fingers down his chest, tracing the ridge between his pectoral muscles and down over his nipple. He makes it sound like something you'd hear from an animal, deep and low in his throat, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

We're so desperate that we've made a point of skipping any foreplay, and soon his hand is hiking my dress up to my waist, just as he lets his cock out. He pushes my panties to the side, and when his fingers delve into my wet pussy, I hear him growl, literally, and it turns me on so much that I moan out loud.

It's primal, like he's a predator and I'm the prey. Except he's the one sitting on his back, and I'm the one straddling him, my knees on either side of his body. His bare cock, hot between my legs, and as I push down on his shaft, he groans my name.

— Candace…

He repeats the word again, and I don’t wait for him to say it a third time. I just guide him inside, eased by my wetness. I savor the feel of his thickness filling me. Riding him, skin to skin, his bare cock inside me, I fuck him. It feels familiar, like I’ve done this a million times before.

His hands slide up the sides of my waist, to my chest, and he cups my breasts, his thumbs stroking my hard nipples. I start to let go, letting go of the feeling of being with him, riding him as he turns me on and on.

I’m so close, and he grips my waist tightly, his hands pushing me down hard on his cock, his thrusts shorter and faster.

“Baby. — he says, his voice sensual. — I want you to cum for me..

— I'm on the edge, so close, about to cum. — I almost stutter as I say.

With a few more movements, I feel his cock swell, and when we both reach ecstasy, I can feel a fine pain in my shoulder. Namjoon had bitten me, maybe to keep me from moaning too loudly, but that doesn't bother me.

[...]

Nearly two days had passed since I arrived in Missoula, and after what happened at the diner and bar, I isolated myself in the house. Not because of him, but because the whole situation oddly gave me an unprecedented drive to write, and I can say I was very close to finishing my first book.

But today, I wanted to give myself a break, so I started looking up things to do or nearby restaurants to visit. That’s when I found a small town about thirty minutes from Missoula that, coincidentally, was hosting an event to celebrate something.

I decided to wear a red velvet skirt that reached mid-thigh, paired with black tights to keep my legs warm, a black turtleneck sweater, boots, and an elegant beret to add a French touch, even though I was in America. I grabbed everything I needed and headed to the little town to enjoy the event, maybe have some fun, and forget about the looming deadline for my book series, which I needed to deliver in less than a year.

The small town was called Wye, a place with few residents, and like Missoula, most of them were older folks with very few young people around. The event was called Hunting Day, as one of the locals explained to me. It’s a celebration where the townspeople gather for a large barbecue and party to honor their hunting spoils. Until I reached the display of their "spoils," I thought it would be buffalo or deer hunting, but no. There was a special area in the event where they showcased the animals they had hunted, which turned out to be massive wolves.

The story I’d read online about Montana wolves began to feel very real—they were enormous. People took photos, and some prayed, thanking God for protection from "demons," but I found the whole situation disgusting and brutal. Despite being dangerous animals, they didn’t deserve to be killed simply for being what they are. I distanced myself from the horror show and focused on eating the local foods, watching a few performances, and enjoying some live music.

At the end of the day, as night fell, I headed back to my car to return home and get back to writing. I had only a few days left in Missoula, and I couldn’t afford to waste more time. However, less than five minutes from Missoula, my car began to slow down until it stopped entirely on a dark road with no sign of life around. Though it was still early, Missoula was no New York City, so the chances of someone passing by anytime soon were slim. And to make things worse, it was a cold night, meaning even fewer people were likely to come by to help or give me a ride.

“No... no...” I murmured as the car stalled and I tried to start it again. “Come on...”

I tried to start it three times, and with my vast knowledge of cars, I concluded that the battery had died. I took out my phone, intending to call someone, but the “No Signal” message appeared, practically inviting me to swear up a storm. That’s what I got for coming to a place like this and wanting to stay off the grid.

Admittedly, walking down a dark road was far from ideal, but staying in the car until morning without a heater wasn’t an option either—I didn’t want to freeze to death. I got out of the car with only my bag and phone, locked it, and decided I’d call a tow truck or find a mechanic in the morning.

Using my phone’s flashlight to see the road, I began walking, the cold wind whipping my face. Within minutes, the unsettling feeling of being watched crept over me, soon accompanied by the sense that I was being followed. But this time, the sensations weren’t the same as before. These filled me with fear, and though I might have been overthinking, I started hearing footsteps mixed with the noises of some animal. That made me quicken my pace.

As I approached the sign indicating I was entering Missoula, something gray darted across my path, making me stop and hyperventilate from the cold. The growling grew louder, so I turned my phone’s flashlight toward where the creature had passed. And when the beam hit it, I froze.

It was an abomination—a mix of wolf and human, standing mere meters away from me. Its bared teeth were dripping with saliva, and its eyes glowed yellow. From the waist down, it had the body of an animal, but its face was monstrous. Its mouth protruded slightly, an incomplete transformation of its snout. It had enormous fangs, clawed hands, and light gray fur covering its skin.

The scream rising in my throat failed to escape, and I don’t know how, but I found the strength to drop my phone and run blindly into the forest. Maybe it was foolish to run since I’d be dinner one way or another, but at least I was trying to save myself. Was it too much to hope the half-wolf was old and too lazy to chase me? What a way to die, huh? Eaten by a wolf—or whatever that thing was—that, coincidentally, resembled the protagonist of my own book. Can you imagine the headlines? “Famous Writer Mauled by Wolf—Plot Twist Mirrors Her Lupine Romance Novel.”

My legs trembled and faltered, but I didn’t stop running. Branches scratched my skin, leaving marks as I heard the pounding of the wolf’s paws behind me. Each growl sent chills up my spine.

Death followed me, hunted me, wanted me. But it would not win. It could not.

I pushed my body to its limit, chest heaving as I ran. The wolf’s pursuit grew closer. I wasn’t an athlete with superhuman endurance, and every hurried step brought me closer to collapse. My lungs burned, and I desperately needed water.

Hope vanished when my left foot caught in a hole, sending me tumbling down a small slope. I rolled until my head struck a tree trunk, leaving me dazed and in agony. My whole body ached as I began to cry—not just from the pain but because I knew I was going to die a horrible, tragic death. My parents would be devastated. Quinne would grieve for days, and my true fans would flood Twitter with mourning hashtags, demanding justice for the wolves.

The gray wolf stood at the top of the incline where I lay. The scent of my blood made its nostrils flare as it licked its sharp teeth. I tried to stay still, not wanting to provoke it. It growled loudly and crouched, ready to attack.

This is it, I thought, closing my eyes and bracing for the pain of those teeth tearing into me. But it never came.

Daring to open my eyes, I saw a white wolf leap onto the gray one. As if one wolf wasn’t terrifying enough, now there were two, fighting to decide who would eat me first.

The gray wolf whimpered in pain as the white one sank its massive fangs into its flesh. Despite its best efforts, the gray wolf was no match for the larger, stronger white wolf, a complete creature, not a half-human hybrid. The final blow came as the white wolf delivered a savage, brutal bite to the gray wolf’s jugular. I watched blood gush out, staining the white wolf’s fur and making it appear even more menacing.

As the white wolf dropped the lifeless body, it began approaching me gracefully. With each step, it transformed, shifting into a stunningly handsome human figure. Maybe I was delirious from pain and fear, but his muscular, blood-streaked body was mesmerizing.

My vision blurred, and my head throbbed. Just before I lost consciousness, I thought I heard Namjoon’s voice reassuring me that everything would be okay and that I was safe. Even in my delusions, he was there.

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juletheghoul · 2 years ago

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a/n: I started writing fanfic when I was in my teens, typing away into the night as a way to feel connected to my faves. Eventually I stopped, maybe convinced myself that I'd grown out of it, but that definitely wasn't the case. Truth is the stories have always been there, and I've always wanted to tell them. I'm happy to have found my way back to fanfic, back to the sense of community and all those other amazing fucking stories that I've read here. I've been lucky enough to have my things put on rec lists and now I want to make one of my own. I've been compiling a list of submissions, along with some of my faves and I offer them up to you, humbly. This list in no way encompasses all of the masterpieces I've read, just doing my best with the shitshow that is my memory lol. I am beyond lucky to have reached such a wild milestone, thanks for following along-please enjoy and show these creators some love!

Story recs;

Each story will have it's own warnings**

Jack Whiskey Daniels;

Under Marula Trees (Jack x F!Reader) by @deadhumourist

Cognitive Dissonance (Jack x F!reader) by @prolix-yuy

The Cowboy Next Door (Jack x virgin!freader) by @ikissdin

Javier Peña;

Learning to Live (Javier Peña/f!reader) by @wheresarizona

Fear and Loathing (Javier Peña x F!Reader) by @joels6strings

Lie to Me (Javier Peña x DEA Agent fem reader) by @iamskyereads

Mailroom Crush (Javier Peña x f!reader) by @littlemisspascal

Girl Next Door (Javier Peña x f!reader) by @babybugwrites

Teach Me Tonight (Javier Peña x F!DEA!Reader) by @storiesofthefandomlovers

Dieter Bravo;

Funny Girl (Dieter x F!Reader) by @radiowallet

Stay on the Screenplay (Dieter x F!Reader) by @jazzelsaur

Love Triangles (Dieter Bravo x Female Reader) by @littlemisspascal

Morning (Porn star Dieter x Porn star reader) by @write-and-buried

Dave York;

Appreciation (Dave x F!Reader) by @pedropascalsx

My Girl (Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales) by @foli-vora

Family Fun Series (Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader x Carol York) by @absurdthirst

Rare (Dave York x fem reader) by @ezrasbirdie

Din Djarin;

Take Me to Church (Din Djarin/Reader Western AU) by @frannyzooey

Vibes (Din x F!Reader) by @mandoblowmybackout

Boxer Din Series (Boxer Din Djarin x Masseuse Fem!Reader) by @djarinsbeskar

Like a Moth to the Flame (monster!Din x F!reader) by @the-scandalorian

A Brush of Life (Hades!Din x f!reader) by @charnelhouse

Pero Tovar;

Ego & Black Powder (Pero x F!Reader) by @psychedlic-ink

The Wolf Series (Werewolf!Pero Tovar x F!Reader) by @absurdthirst

Frankie Morales;

Weeknights (Frankie Morales x F!reader) by @frannyzooey

Please To Meet You (Frankie x F!Reader) by @intheorangebedroom

Still of the Night (Frankie xF!reader) by @foli-vora

Joel Miller;

West (Joel Miller x Third Person Female) by @radiowallet

September (Joel x f!reader) by @wheresarizona

Pedro Across The Street (Calls)

Good Things Take Time (PATS x f!reader) by @oonajaeadira

Masterlists;

@novemberrain-writes - masterlist

@thisishellfire - Pedro masterlist

@foli-vora - masterlist

@wheresarizona - masterlist

@frannyzooey - masterlist

@oonajaeadira - masterlist

@psychedelic-ink - masterlist

@nexusnyx - masterlist

@wardenparker - masterlist

@loversandantiheroes - masterlist

@whiskeynwriting - masterlist

@pedros-mustache - masterlist

@writer-darling - masterlist

@mothandpidgeon - masterlist

@littlepadika - masterlist

@pedropascalsx - masterlist

@absurdthirst - masterlist

@just-here-for-the-moment - masterlist

#joel miller #frankie morales #pero tovar #din djarin #dave york #dieter bravo #javier peña #jack daniels #3k milestone #3k celebration #fic rec list #pedro across the street

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rivstyx · 2 years ago

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Hey! Could I please ask for a NatM fic recommendation? I don't like oneshots or pwp so Idk where to start tbh

YES of course you can my dear anon! it sounds like you're looking for longer, more plotty stories, so here are some fics that may fit that description:

The Barn Raising by PoetryInMotion (7,463 words)

The Old West's barn has been demolished by a fetch-related accident. When they get a new one, the Western denizens throw a good old-fashioned barn-raising party. Jedediah decides to invite Octavius (and both secretly hope that they can kindle a romance between the do-si-do and the two-step).

some classic fluff. if you grew up a yeehaw like me, you'll love the little touches of Western culture; if not, you can still appreciate how damn cute this fic is

Down Then Left by mournwiththemoon (36,024 words, incomplete)

Octavius is balls deep in the closet and a mild midlife crisis. Jedediah just wants to fix the elevator. AKA the corporate loser x mechanical engineer AU that literally nobody asked for.

modern AU that i'm obsessed with. octavius is a sad divorced sandbag, jed is an obnoxious wannabe country singer, and i love them both with all my heart

He Loves Me Not by orphan_account (25,820 words)

Jed stumbles across a stack of unsent/unfinished love letters from Octavius to an unknown person in the museum. Jed sets out to find out who. Not because he’s jealous. No, not all.

big romcom vibes. it's not miscommunication, but it's not not miscommunication

if this was a cowboy movie (i'd give you my boots) by Liviapenn (10,180 words)

There are secret articles in our treaties with the gods, of more importance than all the rest, which the historian can never know.' -- Henry David Thoreau. This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. -- Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

ok this one only sort of fits the bill, but i love it too much not to rec it. it follows jed and octavius as they walk back from the car wreck in movie 1 and tell each other stories about their pasts

living beyond your years (acting out all their fears) by Riv_Styx (16,447 words)

“Go,” Octavius repeated. “Run. I am with you.” Jedediah did the one thing he never thought he was capable of doing. The thing he would have sooner died than chosen of his own accord. He ran. Secret of the Tomb AU. Octavius doesn't make it out of Pompeii; angry and grieving, Jedediah goes home alone. Meanwhile, for Octavius, his whole world changes overnight. The new museum is thriving on the magic of the tablet, but it's not where he belongs. It's going to be a long way home.

oh look a familiar name!

my heart will stop in joy by HungryOnMain (12,433 words, incomplete)

A temporary exhibit, on display at the AMNH for a limited time, brings forth a vengeful force from the past. Terrible, painful memories bubble up from the depths of the minds of everyone on display. They can be taken, and joy restored - for a price.

dark, fucked up, and utterly addicting. i eagerly await every serving. this one says "hey, forget kahmunrah - what else could tablet magic possibly do in the wrong hands?"

Any Weather (series) by EwokRae22 (151,470 words)

On a lucky break from McPhee, Larry brings the exhibits on a winter vacation north of New York. He has everything prepared, or at least that’s what he tells himself. Because nothing can stop Jedediah and Octavius’s useless and oh-so-tiny longing for each other, not even the snow.

a fandom classic! the series follows jed and octavius through some wild adventures and features some genuinely heart-wrenching twists

Cacoethes (series) by Anonymous (25,927 words)

A deeper look into Jedediah and Octavius's experiences during Battle of the Smithsonian, and a look at what could have happened after the end.

take the hourglass scene from natm 2 and turn the homosexuality up to eleven, and you've got cacoethes - though the rest of the works in the series are definitely worth the read!

hope this helps! :D

#riv recs #natm #jedtavius #natm fic #natm fanfic #natm fanfiction #natm fandom #night at the museum #night at the museum fic #night at the museum fanfic #night at the museum fanfiction #night at the museum fandom

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adrianicsea · 6 months ago

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Hello, I just want to say I'm getting most of my film recs from you. And I was wandering, have you seen any fioms that aren't western that you would recommend. I just don't know where to start. Anyways, have a nice day.

hi!!! that means so much to me— i love sharing the movies i’m passionate about, and it means a lot when people tell me that they check out a movie because of me 🥹

by non-western films, i’m assuming that you mean films not from the US or from western european countries— if that’s not the case, please let me know!!

i actually haven’t seen a ton of non-western movies myself, and that’s something i’d like to address!! but as far as non-western films i HAVE seen and enjoyed, here’s some that i’ve recently seen or ones that are still memorable:

promare— japan, anime, action/scifi. follows the adventures of galo, an enthusiastic member of a team of firefighters facing off against a terrorist group of pyromancers known as the mad burnish. as galo learns more about the mysterious leader of the burnish, lio, galo comes to question the way burnish are treated in society and if lio’s actions are truly in the wrong.

perfect blue— japan, anime, horror/thriller. mima, a retired j-pop idol, is being stalked as she pivots to an acting career. she loses her grip on reality as a series of strange, violent events begin to happen around her, including a vision of her own former idol self.

sweet home- japan, horror. when a film documentary crew sets foot in the mansion of a notorious deceased artist to research and create a tv special about his frescoes, they awake a dormant evil. this movie is notable because its tie-in video game was a direct inspiration for the resident evil series!

noroi: the curse— japan, horror. this is kind of a found footage/mockumentary style film that starts as an exploration of a purported “curse” and the strange events surrounding it, and then escalates to become something absolutely wild and ABSOLUTELY terrifying.

beau travail— france/djibouti, drama/thriller. while this film’s director, claire denis, IS french, she grew up in colonial french africa, and this film as well as many of her others explore west african culture and issues. in beau travail, the disgraced french legion sergeant galoup recounts the tale of his fall from grace and his cardinal sin of betraying one of his own, a beautiful, kind, and noble young cadet named sentain. this film is a loose adaptation of herman melville’s story billy budd, and it also explores the ongoing effects of the french legion’s presence in djibouti!

nosferatu— silent film (made in germany), horror. if you’re interested in learning about film history at all, western or otherwise, you can’t NOT look at the german expressionist movement! this is a classic, quintessential vampire story— in fact, nosferatu was made as a dracula ripoff when the director FW murnau was not permitted to make an ACTUAL film adaptation of dracula.

metropolis— silent film (made in germany), scifi. this is another legendary entry in the german expressionist movement! in a far-off, hyperindustrialized future, the richest people in metropolis live high above the ground, oblivious to the constant, dehumanizing labor and miserable conditions that are endured by the workers living down below. a sweet, naive young boy from the upper levels named freder finds his way down into the guts of the city, and he is awakened to the suffering of his fellow man and begins to agitate for a workers’ revolution. the work and effects in this movie are BEYOND impressive, especially for something that’s nearing 100 years old!!!

good manners— brazil, horror/fantasy with some musical elements. in são paulo, a poor nurse named clara manages to secure a job as a house sitter, nurse, and nanny to a rich single soon-to-be mother named ana. as the two of them begin to fall in love, ana recounts the story of her baby’s father, and reveals that both he and her unborn child are werewolves. this is a gorgeous, sensitive, and original take on the werewolf genre, and the creature effects are amazing!

RRR— india, musical/action/epic. this is kind of a fictional “what-if” scenario about the meeting of two real-life indian revolutionaries. bheem is a man from a tribe living traditionally in the jungles of india; raju is living as one of the only indian members of the occupying british forces, a traitor to his own people. by rights, the two should hate each other— but they meet while cooperating to rescue a child and become best friends instead, neither one aware of their true identities or motives.

zindagi na milegi dobra— india, comedy/road trip movie. three childhood friends meet up to go on an adventure before one of them gets married, and along the way, they each find the courage to do something that they’ve always wanted to do, like skydive or run with the bulls in spain!!

monkey man— india, action. an anonymous young man going only by the name Kid undertakes a years-long revenge quest in order to avenge his family and village, long ago destroyed by a fascist quasi-religious leader. this film has a lot of american influences/people working on it, but given that its director and star dev patel has indian heritage and that the film deals so squarely with indian culture and politics, it felt fair to include it here.

flee— denmark/afghanistan, partially animated, drama/biopic. amin, an openly gay man living in denmark, arrived there as an unaccompanied minor from afghanistan when he was a teenager. using a combination of documentary-style interview footage with amin and animated recreations, flee tells the story of his exodus from his home and of his coming to terms with his identity.

i hope that at least one or two of these sounds interesting to you!! and if you meant something different by non-western (ex ANY non-english film, just films that aren’t from the US), please let me know and i might have some alternate recs for you :)

#asks #anonymous

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paigeswiftsea · 8 months ago

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hi people, i just created a new fanfic for sabine because i’ve been reading all of the sabine docs and was inspired to write one myself. it’s already posted on ao3 if you want to look it up. i’ll link it here but i’d figured i’d also post it here (:

wc: 2,147

2 years.

That’s how long she had lived in Jorvik. Blaire Williams here for two whole years. And in a whirlwind of rune stones, druids, and magic squirrels, Blaire was now a soul rider. She was everywhere all of the time helping people all around the country. It got tiring for her sometimes, but she got some good cash by helping someone build a chicken coop, or set up a race. Although it got tiring at some points, she liked being busy, she was always doing something.

The equestrian festival had come and gone, and camp western was almost over as well. That meant the soul riders had to get back to work in the Fort Maria library. Not as much fun as it sounded. For Linda, it was fun.

The rest of the soul riders, Alex and Blaire goofed off more than they’d like to admit." They were both people who couldn’t sit still.

But now, blaire was walking up the steps from the grand hall up to the main level of the library. It was so far, everyday, walking back and forth from Avalon, then up the stairs, and then more stairs, then down stairs. Now it was the search of the book names Avalon gave Blaire that day to translate into Jorvik Gigantica. She sighed heavily, scanning the bookshelves for the last book she needed, mumbling the name of the book under her breath to not forget it

“ Ah! There it is! Volume 12” Blaire said to herself. She sat the books down and began translating. She had to admit there was some interesting history in these books. Things about wars and magic and previous reincarnations of soul riders and dark riders. Random things about primeval trees and Jorvik’s link to Pandoria. It was quite interesting at times. But today was incredibly boring. Just random things about farms.

Blaires' arrival to Jorvik to where she is today was a tale, no doubt. She lived in many places around the world, her parents often traveling for long term changes in jobs. Blaire never knew what exactly they did, and how it made them so rich. Blaire never questioned it. The last place blaire lived with her parents was england. Their longest homestead ever, she thought, was almost 3 years. That's where she first discovered her love for horses. She had one horse at a fancy riding school off of the main island of england. She hated to admit it, but she used to be one of those snotty rich kids, a brat, more or less. She was one of them, doing dressage, cross country, and jumping.

But then, her parents sent her off for the summer. To a riding camp. She hated that she had to go to a random country for the summer, away from her friends, her boyfriend. It was a rough first week where she did nothing. She had felt like her parents despised her and liked to punish her. She hated the buddy buddy friendship club thing at first. She was a distinguished rider, not a loser like the rest of them.

Then she saved moorland from being demolished by Mr.Kembell. And it changed everything. She found her starbreed, diamond. And then she continued helping around moorland, then fort pinta. And she started to like it. She made a pact to herself sometime during those weeks to never be snobby like she was ever again. And she had succeeded, so far. The dark riders had tested her patience, many times. Sabine almost killed her horse once. She still isn't over that.

Blaire liked the adventure, learning how to use her powers, so translating this book got hard at times, because it was just a bunch of sitting. Alex never helped either, once she brought snacks and almost ruined an old book. Lisa helped, but she got distracted writing lyrics or tapping a melody in her head on the table. Anne, tried… The only real help to the keepers was Linda, when doing translating. Blaire was also assigned to the wild weave, and damn tuning that chart was hard. Sometimes she heard the breaking of runes in her sleep from how many times she had failed to tune it.

Eventually Blaire finished what felt like assignments from the druids , talked to Avalon, and walked out to the entrance of the Fort Maria Library. Mounting her perlino andalusian she had been given by the moorlands she clicked her tongue into a canter slowly going down the spiral path that led to the library. She still had to do chores for the moorlands and in her stable, splitting the work with Maya, who always worked too hard for her own good. Eventually blaire stepped in taking over some of Maya’s responsibilities so she could have more time to work on refurbishing her family’s farm.

As she rode back, passing Jorvik Stables, she thought back to the equestrian festival. More particularly, Sabine. In past years, Sabine had created chaos, multiple times, even manipulating Blaire herself to let the pigs out and the whole firework fiasco. During a later competition, during the awards, Sabine had leaned down into Blaire's ear whispering,

“I was never going to set those fireworks off. I just wanted to see what you and your little Soul Riders would do. And it was amusing, but you failed.”

“Failed? Failed what?”

“My last test.”

Whatever Sabine meant, Blaire didn’t know. However, this past festival had been different. No fireworks, pigs, spreading childish rumors, scaring off riding clubs. None of it. She was less of a pain in Blaire's ass. But she did go to Moorlands part of the festival and set up her own special race. Blaire did it every day.

Even though Blaire hated Sabine, she still felt like she had to prove herself to her enemy. Sabine always managed to get under Blaire's skin when mentioning riding skills. And their chase, Blaire did every day of the festival, hoping maybe one day she would beat Sabine and would be able to rub it in her face. But she knew it would most likely never happen. Blaire’s thoughts wandered as her horse trotted along the familiar paths of Jorvik. She recalled the countless times Sabine’s taunts had fueled her determination. There was something about Sabine’s smugness that made Blaire push herself harder, striving to be better. She knew it was irrational, but the rivalry had become a driving force in her life.

As she approached the stable, Blaire dismounted and led her horse inside. Maya was already there, busying herself with the daily chores.

"Hey, Maya," Blaire called out, trying to mask her weariness.

Maya looked up and smiled. "Hey, Blaire. How was the library today?"

"Boring as usual," Blaire replied with a sigh. "Just translating some old texts. Nothing exciting."

“ Well, maybe you'll find something soon. Alex has been texting me all day about how bored she is and how she was cheeseballs.”

“Figures. She didnt do shit today. Avalon was starting to get pissy at her.”

Maya chuckled, moving to pick up hay. Blaire finished taking off diamonds tack, putting it away into the closet in the nice organized way she always did. She led Diamond to her stall, then worked on her chores for the night.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Sabine sighed, making her way back to the oil rig for the first time in a while. She hated this place—the cold, metallic structures, the ever-present smell of oil, and the mindless goons who populated it. The only tolerable people were her fellow Dark Riders. Sabine and Katja were deceivingly close, having understood each other and their similar upbringings. Jay, she could get along with, but she was nowhere near as close to her as she was to Katja.

Sabine walked into the rig, leaving her dark bay horse, Khaan, where the rest of the horses resided. The harsh lights and the constant hum of machinery made the place feel oppressive. She made her way to the small, cell-like room she stayed in, looking around it stiffly. After a minute, she let out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. Being a Dark Rider was tiring, constantly working under the pressure of Mr. Sands and his looming expectations.

She threw her cloak onto a chair and sat on the edge of the narrow bed, running a hand through her slicked back hair. The rig's metallic walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying her sense of isolation. Despite the camaraderie with Katja, the loneliness of her role often weighed heavily on her. Sabine longed for something more, something beyond the endless cycle of schemes and battles. “Sabine,” a voice called out from behind her. She turned to see Katja approaching. “Mr. Sands wants to see you. He has news I guess.” she said distantly, like always.

Sabine nodded, her expression unreadable. “I’ll be there in a moment.” She watched Katja leave before taking a deep breath. Whatever the council had in store for her, she was ready. She had to be. “ General Malumi..” Mr. Sands drawled, spinning around in his chair like it was a movie. Sabine stood at the threshold of his office, her arms crossed, trying to mask her disdain. She hated his stupid little quirks, the theatrical gestures that made him seem more like a caricature than the powerful leader of the Dark Riders.

Mr. Sands,” she replied coolly, stepping into the room. “What do you need?”

Sands stopped spinning and leaned forward, his fingers steepled together. His eyes, though sunken and shadowed, gleamed with a dangerous light. “I have a special assignment for you, General,” he said, emphasizing her title with a mocking tone.

Sabine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Another assignment? I thought we already had plans for me.”

“I do,” Sands said, a smile tugging at his lips. “But this one is different. It’s important, and I believe you’re the only one capable of handling it.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “What’s the assignment?”

Sands leaned back in his chair, the smile widening. “I need you to find out everything you can about The Fifth Soul Rider. The reninarinate. I want her weaknesses, but more importantly, I want to know what makes her tick, explode. I want to understand her motivations, her fears, her desires. Get close to her, if you can.”

Sabine’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to spy on her.”

“Precisely,” Sands said, his tone silky. “And not just any kind of spying. I want you to get under her skin, make her trust you. Find out what she holds dear and how we can use it against her.”

Sabine’s stomach churned at the thought. It wasn’t just the idea of deceiving Blaire that bothered her; it was the potential implications of getting close to her enemy. “And what if she finds out?”

“Then you’ll deal with it,” Sands said harshly, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re resourceful, General. That’s why I chose you for this task. You have the ability to see things others miss.”

She clenched her jaw, hating how he twisted his words to sound like praise. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” Sands purred. “I knew I could count on you.”

As Sabine turned to leave, Sands called after her, “ Remember Malumi—failure is not an option.”

She didn’t bother responding, the door closing behind her with a soft thud. Her mind was racing, the weight of the new assignment pressing down on her. She had faced many challenges as a Dark Rider, but this one felt different. Personal.

Back in her room, Sabine sat on the edge of her bed, lost in thought. Getting close to Blaire meant more than just another mission. It meant confronting the strange connection she felt with the Soul Rider, since she met her at the vineyard, a connection that both intrigued and unsettled her.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Sabine knew she had to approach this carefully. Blaire was smart and perceptive; any hint of deception could ruin everything. She needed a plan, a way to integrate herself into Blaire’s world without raising suspicion.

An idea began to form in her mind, a way to encounter Blaire outside of their usual confrontations. She would have to use her wits and charm, traits that had served her well in the past. But this time, the stakes were higher, and the risks greater.

As the evening wore on, Sabine prepared herself mentally for the days ahead. She would become a shadow in Blaire’s life, watching, learning, and waiting for the right moment to strike. It was a dangerous game, but one she was determined to win.

For now, all she could do was wait for the right opportunity. And when it came, Sabine would be ready.

#sso sabine #ssoblr #sabine sso #star stable tumblr #star stable online #fanfic #sabine x oc #sso oc #sso

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a-god-in-ruins-rises · 11 months ago

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western women get a lot of flak for being too independent or "masculine" but it always makes me think of spartan women. i think about that quote: "why are spartan women the only women who rule their men" and queen gorgo says it's because "spartan women are the only women who give birth to real men." i think plutarch also mentions that spartan men were always obedient to their wives.

or as socrates put it (quoted by xenophon): "It is the example of the rider who wishes to become an expert horseman: 'None of your soft-mouthed, docile animals for me,' he says; 'the horse for me to own must show some spirit' in the belief, no doubt, if he can manage such an animal, it will be easy enough to deal with every other horse besides. And that is just my case. I wish to deal with human beings, to associate with man in general; hence my choice of wife. I know full well, if I can tolerate her spirit, I can with ease attach myself to every human being else."

and i think there's a lot of truth to this. i think cultures with spirited, independent women are made stronger by it, for a number of reasons. and i think it actually plays a major role in western civilization's success. a strong-willed man and a strong-willed woman working together in union is an incredibly strong foundation for a family and a civilization.

and i don't want to give the impression that the west was ever some kind of gender-egalitarian utopia. but i do think a significant degree of respect for women is a common feature in western civilization (and i'd say broader indo-european culture too). at least compared to other civilizations. and especially in the prechristian and, now, the postchristian eras (though i'd say it even bleeds through in the christian era in some ways too). i mean there's a reason why feminism first blossomed in the west and not elsewhere.

but yeah, this desire for some docile, obedient slave-wife seems to be very contrary to the spirit of western civilization. i mean, it seemed like the default view of women in prechristian europe, for better or worse, was that women were these wild, powerful, passionate, promiscuous creatures who needed to be tamed. and yes, women were expected to be loyal and amenable/agreeable to their husbands but this is hardly unreasonable and is a far cry from the obedient slave-wife some people propose as an ideal (namely traditional christians and muslims and the like).

"women should be banned from doing manual labor" -- traditionally, women did all sorts of manual labor. medieval peasant women would be working in the fields just like the men. and even if they weren't working a field there would be plenty of other physically taxing jobs they'd be doing. not saying that women should be encouraged to do extremely dangerous or physically taxing jobs, but if they're able to more power to them. and i kinda detest this desire to portray women as frail and incapable. they are the weaker sex but they're not weak. let's not infantilize them.

also, western women generally marry out of love and commitment and view themselves (rightfully) as partners in union with their husbands. whereas these types of women (the woman who made this post) believe women's sole purpose is to be obedient little decorations who do nothing but sit around and look pretty (and maybe have babies if she's very traditional -- but often you won't even get that!) while the man just gives her money. it's transactional and superficial. there's no real love or partnership. it's not a good foundation for a family or a civilization.

anyway, belated happy women's day.

#i actually have so much more to say about this but i'd be here all day #i was also gonna talk about women in latino cultures too #and how simpish the men can be #and yet latino men are viewed as very masculine #and objectively they have some of the highest rates of testosterone #but yeah if you are latino and live around latinos then you know that their women have a reputation for being very not-submissive lmao #and yes i generally consider latin america part of western civilization #at least at the periphery of it

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kiltons-monster-manual · 1 year ago

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So, that Zelda movie...

I was just watching a thing on Youtube about the upcoming Zelda movie - just a fan speculating on what he wants to see. He made mention of how, over the years, Zelda-fandom has, by and large, imagined a potential Zelda movie as animated rather than live action. I actually have some thoughts on that - why Nintendo probably chose the live action medium. I imagine that it is because they want Zelda be to be more serious than the Mario movie. (I have yet to see the Mario movie...). The "cartoony" CGI style fits with a Mario story, wherein Zelda? The Zelda games have a very epic feel and while, I, myself, would have loved to see a good anime movie of it (as in, the ultimate dream for a Zelda movie is Studio Ghibli, am I right?) I can just imagine how some of the talks / speculation with Nintendo went regarding medium-decision. The Legend of Zelda is a game series that is more popular in the West than in Japan. They probably had in mind Americans as the main fanbase and there remains a depressing trend in America concerning animation. Loads of us love it and understand it as a serious medium - but we often have to find our serious, mature and generally epic animated films and movies from a foreign market (mostly anime). Most studios in the United States seem to still think of animated fare as "children's / family entertainment" or else, the adult stuff, which started catching on in the 1990s due to the success of The Simpsons as "comedy sitcom with edgy humor." That is the dichotomy of Western animation - either it's "for the family / kid-geared" or it's got raunchy sex jokes in it and isn't particularly deep. And those Western animated series that DID get deep? Still with that kind of edgy humor. (Seriously, I do think that Bojack Horseman is one of the deepest shows I've ever seen, but it still was "wacky adult edgy humor sitcom" half the time and even most of the time before it got to the deeper stories it wanted to tell). And I believe that Nintendo, in conjunction with Sony? Whomever... on the idea of making a film based on a very beautiful, sweeping, epic fantasy game series (with a notoriously critical fanbase) couldn't risk the constraint of having it be relegated to being marketed as "kiddie," nor did it fit the other big Western animation market. And they probably thought that homegrown anime would be a hard sell for the American market, only accessible to geeks rather than a mainstream audience. And so... they chose live action in hopes of capitalizing on successes of recent live action + cgi fantasy series such as the Lord of the Rings films, the Game of Thrones TV series, The Witcher and similar. Probably a wise decision. Unlike the youtuber I was watching, I hope they actually use Adult Link in it, although, like said youtuber, I hope they use an unknown actor. I also want him to be soft-spoken and given only a few words, because that's everybody's idea of Link (unless they want to go with the buckwild version that everybody's been playing in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom lately)... but I really, really don't want to see a live action link torturing those poor koroks.

#the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #zelda #legend of zelda movie #loz movie #zelda movie

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onboardsorasora · 10 months ago

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Updated Dewis Fic Rec List

Here is my current incomplete Dewis faves list. Still wild to me that Dewis is a rare pair and I am doing my part to try and change that 🫡

In the interim, here are the Dewis fics I regularly go back to lol. They are in no particular order. I just went with the easiest way to put this together.

I will add on as I read more fic :)) also, I'll always shamelessly recommend my own Dewis fics lmao

Mainly doing this for myself so I can like put it in my pinned so I can reference later.

Valentine by dr3writings Words:828 “Are you asking me to be your Valentine?”

Aloha - The Art of Saying Hello and Goodbye by WaitingtoBloom Words: 16,210 Daniel travels to Hawaii in an attempt to shut out the world and find his bearings after a tumultuous start to the season, but Formula 1 ends up finding him anyway in the form of one Sir Lewis Hamilton.

Active Love by f1errari Words: 1,638 Daniel grins, one eye closes, he forgot how sharp the sun is at home but he looks at Lewis anyways who smiles softly and tips Daniel’s cap down just a little, Daniel scrunches his nose up in response but opens his eyes ‘well, let’s hope it goes better then last time huh’ (aka Daniel thinks about Lewis a lot and how good they are together before the 2022 Australian gp)

Lewis x Daniel Extended universe by Bones_2_be Words: 18,533 Works: 3 It starts with Lewis and Daniel seeing each other at Coachella

A Kiss for Good Luck by dr3writings Words:1,222 Daniel takes a deep breath and looks at his own reflection in the mirror, the number three glaring at him from the edge of the red bull cap for just a moment before he forces himself to take it off. Not yet.

Don’t need nothing by the_orange_one

Words:9,493 Lewis Hamilton is a seven-time Grammy winner. He’s a fashion icon, a hugely successful R&B artist, adored all around the world. The pandemic brings his 2020 world tour screeching to a halt, leaving him stranded in Brisbane.

Enter struggling ex-band member, newly-solo, Daniel Ricciardo. He’s taking a creative break (read: having breakdowns about his stalling career), living on his farm in Western Australia, and he’s exactly the type of friend to invite someone to live with him during a global shutdown. Especially if it’s Lewis.

or, Lewis and Daniel write a song together, take care of one another, and reconnect while riding out the global shutdown on Daniel’s farm in Perth. Not necessarily in that order.

wrapped in gold by Anonymous Words: 1,162 Daniel had gotten the address from the photographer he’d messaged on Instagram. She’d said it’s beautiful and Lewis trusts her judgment, he’s not all that familiar with the area in the summer anyway.

Love not given lightly by Anonymous Words:2,937 Lewis is all soft, soft skin on luxury Italian leather, limbs ringed in ink and sturdy cuffs. It almost feels criminal to handle him roughly. But Lewis had asked him specifically, and well, they were always accusing Daniel of being too nice for his own good.

Love, In All the Hard Places to Reach by IICarpeDiemII Words: 15,270 Daniel’s been living on his own for almost a decade. He’s forgotten how it is to live with other people. He’s forgotten how hard it is to hide things from someone you’re sharing the same bed with.

Walk ahead and don't wait for me, I'll follow your footsteps anyway .by soulhead

Words:3,033 He can't allow this annoying, emotional and demanding part of him to distract him as it seeks a kind of companionship his racing lifestyle cannot provide. This force of his own that moves for and against his own wellness at time, that bites and scratches when he swallow yet another suppressant : it needs to be muzzled and he's never second-guessed his decision on the topic until very recently.

Or, Daniel is an Alpha on suppressants, but Lewis just wishes he would be himself for once.

Golden days by its_a_yoke Words:2,257 Lewis is happy to have Daniel on the podium with him again and they have a nostalgic one night stand just like in the old days.

it's not a crime to steal from a thief by Anonymous Words: 1,228 Max is still celebrating when Lewis posts the photo with the caption: You win some, you lose some. Today, I won.

one bright moment by pronoe for Gertika Words: 1,345 Daniel wins the race, Lewis wins the championship, they kiss in parc fermé.

loved you for years by Anonymous Words: 1,665 “Now that you’re back at Red Bull, will we see a mating announcement between you and Max? You two have always been so close.”

And in that moment Daniel knows, his mate at home isn't going to be thrilled with that question.

I've had the time of my life (and I owe it all to you) by Danubius Words: 2,147 Daniel realized he shared his bathroom's wall with his negihbor after a long shift at work, when he heard the singing from the other side, and singing back seemed like a good idea.

He didn't think things would escalade so quickly from there.

let's just dance by dr3writings Words: 1,374 “You done with your work?” he mumbles, leaning further into the solid body behind himself and feels a light exhale on his neck that makes him shiver pleasantly.

“Yep, just in time too I saw,” Daniel whispers, the song still playing on repeat in the background and his fingers have started tapping out the beat lightly against Lewis’ stomach without a conscious thought.

can't stand the heat by @toastandvegemite Words: 2,839 Lewis is most irresistible Alpha on the grid. Daniel is the most untameable Omega.

It should be a match made in heaven, but for some reason Lewis is determined to resist Daniel’s charms.

rocking, raftered by leafmeal0ne Words:33,428 Daniel knew it would be generous to call himself an up-and-comer in the music industry. Probably a little generous to call himself anything other than a farm hand.

It seemed that Lewis Hamilton, actual country music legend, disagreed.

the MET by dr3writings Words:969 Daniel feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and hurries to make an excuse to the people he’s in direct vicinity of as he walks down a slightly hidden hallway to answer, no one really pays any attention too caught up in each other so he sneaks off pretty easily. He feels Blake’s eyes on him but just gives him a thumbs up and shows the phone display quickly where it’s still ringing earning a fond eye roll as the other goes back to talking to some of the other guests.

tbc...

#you may ignore this. gonna be pinning #fic rec #dewis #lewis/daniel #important #do not lose #I hope tumblr doesn't fuck with the formatting or links...but I have little hope. fingers crossed

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