#my largest number of tags

[inkphi]

It's so sad/devestating/embarrassing/lonely/exhausting finding out no one loves you the way you thought they did. It's also clarifying/eye opening/vindicating and motivating.

Mostly I feel embarrassed. I'll tell you why... I tend to feel like I have a happy, sunny, positive disposition. So when on certain days when I have my "real world" and I can see how things and people really are. Some of my more pleasant filters are... "puttering around the kitchen making brownies --just cuz" filter or my "smiling walking thru the pits of HELL, (*AkA*Kensington), complimenting total strangers bc I like to make people smile" filter . I digress, that turned into quite a tangent Which you'll find I do often . Anyway, I really start to self deprocate*, like to the point of, you know how in cartoons when a painting of animals come to life and drop their mouth open, and they whisper to each other "Geez that girl really hates herself. When all that happened is he said something like, I wishyou would have made chicken instead of soup.

I will go into a total tailspin of horrible, mean negative, downright filthy things in a screaming head loop. I mean my brain tells me things you would never sayo someone else much less your own self-talk.

Wow, I need to take a break. I'm going to walk to Chinese Store and buy a few loosies.

I'm making the decision to post a half written blog to motivate me to finish. This is good for both my mental , getting these thoughts straight instead of an angry nest of hornets in ma head . Also, intellectually, bc of the typing and the spelling and thinking , whole thoughts and articulating them in a relatable way. (Which has still yet to be determined)

Day 2:

I came back to finish this but he's honestly, I don't even know wtf I was getting at. I hadn't slept in days.

Basically, I want to feel like I'm part of a team. Team LOVE man! And I will for a few days, then something happens that puts the brakes on that fantasy. Like for instance, tonight I made a comment that I wanted crack, then said damn we don't have any ciggs and told him that his lighter was cold or dying bc the flame was low. This was a span of getting of the el and walking down the steps. He turns and tells me I haven't stopped complaining since we got off the el. From my POV, only comment #2 was a complaint. This was also on top of going to talk to someone who wants him to do a painting for them and I was told to ya know let him talk, which is cool. When we were talking, I was getting excited. I mean I'm happy for him and excited he has a painting to keep him happy and occupied and basically when we walked away he shamed me for getting so animated and excited. Like, you may as well punched me in the gut. That makes my heart hurt. It makes me feel so stupid that I have to defend myself for my personality and that while I'm talking he's in his head mentally telling me to shut up or feeling embarrassed by me.

I'm getting upset and I'm almost home... hopefully I'll finish later

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly i think one of the reasons phirell changed my brain chemistry is that on my first playthrough i started shipping them as soon as he showed up, half out of spite for Oh God Not the Edgy Forced Het Ship Tease and half out of spite for knowing characters like philio are never involved in canon ships, only to get completely poleaxed by him being THE main subtextual love interest while kirell/aam is significantly more ambiguous once you get past balaam's surface-level performance. literally one of the potential last questions on his section of charon's interview--which you only find out is the case on your second playthrough--makes him happy if you say you're fine with just living out your life, and even happier if you say you're open to starting a family. when i tell you i was going insane

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

[chanaleah]

Hello, I'd like to ask a question in good faith about israel/Oct 7

I have seen many Jewish folk and israelis say that Oct 7 was the largest Massacre since the holocaust but from my understanding a significantly larger number of Jewish folk were killed and disappeared during the dirty war in Argentina in the 70s and 80s so I was just wondering I guess about why the dirty war doesn't seem as important as Oct 7 or why barely anyone talks about the dirty war because both events are horrific but I only ever see Oct 7 discussed when it comes to more modern Jewish oppression and history

this is a really interesting question, but I'd actually never heard of the dirty war in Argentina up until this point, so I don't I have the knowledge to answer you.

After some quick reading it seems it might be due to the fact that the dirty war seems to have occured over a long span of time, while October 7th was just one day, but that's just my conclusion after some very surface level research.

I'll tag some people who might be able to answer this better than I can.

@historicity-was-already-taken @homochadensistm @native-n-jewish-thoughts @aqlstar @gay-jewish-bucky @newnitz @spale-vosver @magnetothemagnificent

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia Au/Good luck while running away from mafia part 4

Intro, part 0.5 , part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 5 , part 6

Tags: @hrhqueenfox , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m , @cecilebutcher , @ayachansan , @roseapov , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red , @wonderlandcrown , @nightw-izhu , @moonlight-nightwing , @lorkai , @lucid-stories , @morokumi

Notes: little bit rushed I guess? Well I am working on three other aus at the moment so. I hope you like it.

Warning: yandere stuff, gn reader, English is not my first language…

4 years ago

“Tyranttt!” You moaned.

“I haven't eaten a bite or drank a sip of water for hours. Now you're giving me an exam! “This is not a test, it is torture!” You shouted to the cameras on the wall.

As usual, you were training with Crewel sensei all day long. And it couldn't be said that he was a very kind teacher. He was extra harsh on you, especially compared to the other people he trained.

However, he had especially gotten things out of hand. Today was one of your least favorite days. Surprise exam day. Surprise exams: as the name suggests, you would never know the content and time of the exam. Crewel would put you to the test suddenly, without you even noticing. You especially hated the hands-on ones.

You couldn't eat properly yesterday. You had been training under Crewel Sensei all day. When you returned home, you fell asleep straight away from exhaustion. When you woke up, you found yourself handcuffed in a room. While I was sleepily trying to comprehend what was happening, Crewel Sensei's voice echoed into the room from the ceiling speaker.

“My dear little puppy, guess what time? Correct answer: Surprise exam! Your mission is to get out of the handcuffs and get out of this building within two hours. Let me tell you from the beginning, do not complain, the exam was prepared according to the topics we covered. Then I wish you good luck. Your time has begun.”

-

“Two hours and 6 minutes nch nch. You need to work harder. 8 minutes to get out of the handcuffs, 43 minutes to open all the locked doors, 40 minutes to pass the obstacles... we better tighten up your training."

You just glared at Divus as he seriously analyzed the exam. You're too hungry to bother with that damn practical exam. You just focused on eating your salad.

“I mean, what was slowing you down? Should we increase the number of exams?

“Sensei, it’s just six minutes, I was tired, unprepared-“

“The aim is to prepare you for all kinds of situations.” Crewel interrupted.You grimaced. You weren't in the mood to argue with him right now.

While Crewel was talking about your mistakes, there was a knock on the door. It was Sam.

“Sam-san!” Your eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of your savior. Whenever Crewel scolded you or increased your training hours, he would save you from Crewel like a savior angel.

“Excuse me to interrupt, but Boss wants the little imp.” said Sam.

“Huh, now? Why does he want Y/n?” Crewel asked with a grimace.

"Who knows. By the way, get it while you're at it.I brought the information you requested.”

He handed Crewel a package. Meanwhile, you escaped at the first opportunity you had and went to Crowley, the head of the mafia.

-

“Looks like Crewel gave you one of his wonderful exams again, hmm?” The masked man asked, as he poured a tea for you.

"Yes sir."

Dire Crowley is the head of one of the largest organizations in the Underworld and also your protector who took you in when you were ten years old. You had always wondered how such a goofy and slightly weird guy became the head of the mafia.

Once, when you asked Crewel sensei about this, he told you these words.“If you only knew what that man did… Anyway, just be careful with him. He is…the devil himself.”

“You've been with me for a long time, Y/n, and the time has finally come.”He handed you a file.

“Congratulations, you are now an official member of the mafia and here is your first target.”

You started examining the file.

“This man was a traitor we had been looking for a long time. He poses a great danger to the organization. I want you to get rid of him.”

———

Current time

You were on something soft. You opened your eyes slowly. You felt a pain in your shoulder.

“Jamil! Y/n woke up!”

You heard a joyful familiar voice. The owner of the voice hugged you with joy. Kalim. You tried to comprehend the events in a dazed manner.

That's right, Floyd shot you last and you fainted from blood loss while running with all your strength. And apparently Scarabia had caught you.

“Oh Y/n you really had me worried. If you only knew how scared I was when I saw you like that, shot and unconscious."

You didn't reply. You just stared blankly at Kalim.

“Yes Y/n you had us all so worried.” Jamil entered the room. He had a black agenda in his hand and was wearing a suit. Now if you look carefully, Kalim was also wearing a suit. The welds of weight on his wrists jingled as he turned to survey the room. Oh you were chained.

“Is it allowed to keep such things in the hotel room?” You said.

“Oh, I'm sorry, we brought the silver ones with us because we came here in a hurry, but don't worry, we have gold ones at home.” said Kalim innocently.

You loved Kalim, his sweet and pure nature prevented you from venting your anger on him. You gritted your teeth. You looked at Jamil.

“Kalim, you better go now, you need to greet our guests for the meeting. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Jamil dragged the manager out by force.

“But Jamil-“

“Don't worry, nothing will happen. They are both injured and the whole hotel is full of guards.”

After Kalim left, a grin appeared on Jamil's face that you had never seen before. A familiar and yet disturbing grin.

“Congratulations, you are truly someone who lives up to the title of the boss's right-hand man. Sorry, his former right-hand man. You know Kalim was so panicked it was hard for me to calm him down. Especially when you suddenly disappeared he stopped working, coming to meetings…You owe me for this.”

You didn’t answer. You knew he was trying to provoke you.

“I wonder what would have happened if those documents had never arrived? Would the boss throw you aside? Would you be his heir after all the training you received?”

You tried to hold yourself back.

"Who knows." You replied.

A burst of laughter broke out from Jamil. He approached you.

“Oh, you are really tough. It's not easy to break you, but don't worry, we have plenty of time. The doctor will be coming soon to change your bandages, so don't be a hassle. I notified room service for you to have breakfast.”

And he left the room.

You laughed. Oh apparently Crewel Sensei was right. Training would really come in handy.

-

Once you were free of the chains, you got into the bed and waited for the doctor.Indeed, as Jamil said, the doctor came about fifteen minutes later.You quietly waited for him to approach you on your bed.

“Excuse me, Y/n-san are you awake?”

You didn't reply. Just as the doctor was bending over to lift the blanket on you, you jumped on top of them and gagged them with one of the sheets before they could scream. You undressed the poor doctor while they were struggling in chains made for you.

“I'm sorry, but you know I have to run away. And my clothes are a little off for that.”

You were careful not to attract the suspicion of the guards as you left the room dressed as a doctor. You started walking away from there with normal steps.

Indeed, as Jamil said, there was protection everywhere. As you were about to get into the elevator, you noticed the guards talking on the phone, then they all hurriedly dispersed. Apparently room service had found the poor doctor.

You changed direction. You walked calmly but quickly and pulled the fire alarm. And as you wish, chaos broke out.

While people were screaming and running in panic, you mixed in with them. And you finally reached the exit.

When you left the hotel, you hailed a taxi with the money you got from the poor doctor.

“To the amusement park,” you said to the driver.

Then you called that number with the phone you got from the doctor.

“Hey it's me Y/n. It's time to pay me back. Be at the amusement park. Don't forget to bring a vehicle and weapon with you. You better be on time, Snow White."

-

“Looks like your training has paid off, Crewel.”The masked man said in a sarcastic tone.

“It's truly incredible, but it's a shame that such a person is a traitor.” said Trein as he caressed Lucius.

“Well, talent is in their blood, after all, he was like that too when he was young.” said Vargas.

“I have work to do. With your permission,” Crewel stood up sharply.

“Oh Crewel, don't be angry-“ but before Crowley could finish his sentence, Crewel spoke angrily.

“You hate it the most when we talk about him. Didn't you declare him a traitor to take over, and completely erased Ramshackle from the mafia? And now you're sacrificing them for your executives."

Crowley smiled under his mask.

“Crewel Crewel, are you really going to play innocent? You were the one who gave them those documents. If they didn't know anything, maybe we would still be living in peace. But no problem. After this game, we will return to our peaceful life again."

[novaursa]

Legacy (the silence)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be awear of unspecified time jump.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (slight descritpion of blood and gore)

- Previous part: across the dream

- Next part: the great war

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril @urdxrling

The wind howled through the towering cliffs of Casterly Rock, carrying with it the scent of salt and cold steel. Beneath the shadow of the great castle, the courtyard and the surrounding paths swarmed with men and banners, a sea of red and gold. The banners of the Westerlands stretched as far as the eye could see—familiar sigils of lesser houses loyal to the Lion of Lannister. The old roads, once worn by merchants and travelers, now thundered beneath the hooves of warhorses and the heavy tread of marching feet.

Tywin Lannister stood at the edge of the outer parapet, his gloved hands resting on the stone, his gaze sweeping over the columns of armed men pouring through the open gates. The force that had assembled was vast, perhaps the largest host the Westerlands had called upon in a generation, yet it was not as grand as it could have been in an age untouched by war and winter. Supplies were dwindling, and no matter how well-prepared he had been, no one had foreseen more then three years of endless night.

Kevan stood beside him, his face lined with quiet contemplation. “More arrive by the hour,” he said, his voice barely audible over the clamoring of men below. “Ser Myles Lefford rides at the head of the last host from the Golden Tooth, and the remaining forces from Deep Den and the Crag should be here soon.” He exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold air. “This is the last of them, Tywin. Every sword sworn to us has come.”

Tywin’s expression did not shift, but his grip on the stone tightened slightly.

“These are all who could make it,” he corrected.

Kevan nodded grimly. They both knew there were men still trapped in smaller holdfasts, cut off by the unnatural storms that had ravaged the roads. Others had never made it at all, swallowed by the darkness or the creatures that now roamed freely in the deep woods. The Westerlands had always been a strong, untamed land, but it had never known fear like this.

Below, the banners of House Brax, House Marbrand, House Kenning, and more fluttered in the frozen wind as their lords dismounted and gave orders to their men. A chorus of shouting, the clank of armor, and the snorting of warhorses filled the air, but there was no raucous celebration. No laughter. No boasting. Only the solemn grimness of men who had come to fight their last war.

Ser Addam Marbrand approached on foot, his orange cloak dusted with frost. He dipped his head in a respectful bow to Tywin. “My lord, my men have settled within the lower halls as ordered. The horses are being stabled, and we brought as many provisions as we could carry. We left none behind.” He hesitated for a moment, his dark eyes flickering with something unspoken. “Some of my men say they saw shapes in the woods as we rode. Pale figures in the trees, watching but not attacking. We rode hard to outpace them.”

Kevan shifted uncomfortably. “How many?”

Marbrand shook his head. “Too many to count.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “It was wise not to engage. Whatever numbers they bring, they will break against these walls.” His gaze remained fixed on the sea of arriving soldiers, his mind already turning over every possible strategy.

He had spent his life making war against men—rebels, usurpers, fools who thought they could defy the might of House Lannister. He had crushed them all. But this was no war of banners and crowns. This was something older, something no man had ever conquered.

And yet, he would not bow.

Kevan exhaled. “Winterfell sends no word back with messengers. Neither does the capital.”

“That is not an accident.” Tywin’s voice was cold. “Someone ensures the realm remains deaf to what is happening.”

Marbrand frowned. “Could it be Daenerys?”

Tywin shook his head. “No. She lacks the subtlety.” He turned, his cloak billowing behind him. “Whoever is doing this, it is not to her benefit either.”

Kevan hesitated. “Then who?”

Tywin did not answer. He had spent the last weeks pondering the same question, and yet no answer presented itself that did not lead to a darker conclusion.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the arrival of another rider. Ser Myles Lefford, his golden breastplate dulled with frost, dismounted stiffly and strode toward them.

“My lords,” he said, bowing, “we met no resistance on the road, but there are whispers among the men. They speak of villages where the fires still burned, but not a single soul remained. No bodies, no signs of struggle. Only silence.”

Tywin turned fully to face him. “How many villages?”

Lefford’s throat bobbed. “Too many.”

Kevan muttered a curse, running a hand through his beard. “This is beyond raiding. They are wiping the land clean.”

Marbrand nodded grimly. “If they mean to starve us, they have already begun.”

Tywin stared at the growing mass of soldiers in the courtyard below. This was the last host the West would ever raise, the final force that stood between annihilation and survival. If they failed here, there would be no retreat, no second war.

He turned back to his gathered men.

“We will not cower behind these walls like frightened children,” he said, his voice cutting through the cold. “We have prepared for this. The Rock has stood for thousands of years and will stand long after we are dust. These things may bring the cold, but I will see them burn.”

Marbrand and Lefford bowed. “As you command, my lord.”

Kevan looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.

Tywin cast one last glance at the forces still arriving.

Let them come.

He would make sure they paid in blood.

The war room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of wax and parchment, the heavy weight of impending doom pressing against the stone walls like an unseen specter. A great table stretched the length of the chamber, covered in a detailed map of Westeros, marked with carved sigils of their bannermen and the crude placements of their enemies. The Westerlands had gathered for their final stand, and all eyes now turned toward Tywin Lannister, the Lion of Casterly Rock, as he weighed their fates with the cold precision that had won him every war he had ever fought.

But this was no war of men.

The door creaked open, and the lords who sat around the table turned as you entered. You moved with the quiet grace that had been bred into you since birth, but there was something else in you now—something sharpened by years of survival, war, and the burden of knowledge you alone carried. As you stepped into the chamber, the gathered bannermen rose, offering you the respect due to both the Lady of Casterly Rock and a woman who rode a dragon.

Tywin looked up from the map, his expression unreadable as he gestured to the seat beside him. You took it without hesitation, feeling the weight of a dozen gazes settle on you. Kevan Lannister sat across from you, his brows furrowed, his hands folded over one another. Ser Addam Marbrand stood near the hearth, his face cast in flickering firelight, his fingers drumming idly against the pommel of his sword. Lord Lefford, Lord Brax, and the other lords of the West sat in quiet anticipation, waiting for the war council to begin.

It was Kevan who spoke first. “The last of our men have arrived. Every sword sworn to us is now within these walls. If we are to strike before the enemy reaches us, the time is now.”

Tywin gave a small, imperceptible nod. “And have they sent word from the capital? Anything or still nothing?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“No, my lord,” Lord Brax finally admitted, his voice grim. “No word from the Crownlands, nor from the North.”

You shifted, your fingers pressing against the edge of the table. “Then it is as we feared—someone ensures silence reigns across the realm. We are being cut off from the world.”

Ser Addam Marbrand exhaled through his nose. “We cannot afford to wait any longer, my lord. If the North is lost, the Others will march south unchallenged.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, but he said nothing.

You leaned forward, your voice steady. “Then let me take Viserion and burn them before they reach us.”

The lords stirred at your words, some exchanging glances, others nodding in silent agreement.

Lord Lefford spoke up, his face lined with weariness. “She speaks sense, my lord. We do not know how many of them there are, nor how they fight, but if fire is truly their weakness, then we must use it before it is too late.”

Kevan hesitated. “We know fire can kill the wights. But we do not know if it can kill the Others. If they are truly creatures of ice, then perhaps dragonflame can undo them—but if not…” He trailed off, unwilling to speak the worst of it.

You turned to Tywin, watching as his jaw tightened, as the muscle in his cheek twitched ever so slightly. He was silent, thoughtful, but there was something else in his eyes. Hesitation.

It was rare to see Tywin Lannister unsure.

You softened your voice. “We cannot wait until they are at our gates, Tywin. The Rock may be impenetrable, but it is not invincible. If we allow them to gather, to grow stronger, then even these walls may not hold.”

Tywin exhaled slowly, but he still did not answer.

Kevan shifted in his seat. “She is right, brother. If we wait, we may find ourselves cornered, besieged by an enemy we do not fully understand.”

Ser Addam Marbrand, ever the strategist, leaned forward. “If we send her to test them now, we will know what we face before it is too late. We must learn if dragonfire can truly undo them. If it does not, then at least we will know the limits of our weapons before we make our stand.”

The lords murmured in agreement, their voices a mixture of conviction and unease.

But still, Tywin hesitated.

You reached for his hand beneath the table, pressing your fingers against his palm. It was a rare gesture, one done in the quiet privacy of your chambers, never in the presence of others. But now, with all of Westeros on the brink of destruction, you did not care for propriety.

He glanced at you then, his green eyes locking onto yours, searching.

You did not need to speak the words aloud. You must trust me.

For a long moment, the world around you ceased to exist. The lords, the war, the Rock—it all faded into silence.

Then, finally, Tywin spoke.

“You may go,” he said, his voice low, measured. “But you will not go alone.”

You arched a brow. “Who do you mean to send with me?”

Tywin turned to Kevan. “You will take a small force to accompany her. A dozen riders. No more.”

Kevan’s brows furrowed. “If she is flying, then there is no need for riders.”

Tywin’s gaze did not waver. “There is always a need for an escape plan.”

Your lips parted, but you did not argue. You could see it now—the barely concealed fear in his expression, the tightness in his shoulders. He was not a man who bent to fear. But this? This was different.

This was you.

And for the first time in all your years together, you realized what it meant for the lion to love a dragon.

Tywin turned to the room, his voice cold and commanding once more. “We move before the week is done. If this war is to be fought, we shall be the ones to strike first.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the lords.

You gave Tywin’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it, rising from your seat.

As you turned to leave, you felt his gaze linger on your back, a silent weight that followed you as you exited the war room.

And you knew, without a shadow of doubt, that if you did not return—there would be no force in this world that could stop Tywin Lannister from razing it to the ground.

The air smelled faintly of parchment and herbs, a mixture of the maester’s study and the lingering scent of medicinal balms. You sat on the cushioned bench beside the table, your hands resting on your lap, fingers idly tracing the embroidery on your sleeve. Across from you, Maester Aldren finished his examination, his expression grave yet unreadable as he straightened and exhaled softly.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, with a measured tone, he spoke.

“You are with child.”

The words settled heavily between you, like the final grains of sand slipping through an hourglass.

Your breath caught in your throat. It was not unexpected—not entirely. You had felt the changes within you in the past few weeks: the subtle exhaustion, the way your body had begun to shift in ways you recognized from before. But to hear it spoken aloud, to have it confirmed in this moment—now, on the eve of your departure—was something else entirely.

Maester Aldren continued, unaware of the tempest brewing in your mind. “You are early along. No more than a few moons, but there is no mistake. Your body has already begun adjusting.”

Your gaze flickered down to your hands, to the pale skin of your fingers, as thoughts warred within you. Another child. Tywin’s child.

The timing could not have been worse.

A deep inhale steadied you. When you spoke, your voice was firm. “You will not tell anyone.”

Aldren’s brows furrowed, his weathered face etched with confusion. “My lady, surely the Lord of the Rock should—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice unwavering. “Not yet.”

Aldren hesitated. He was a maester of the Citadel, sworn to duty and knowledge, but he was also a man who had served your household for years. He had tended to Damon and Maelor since their birth, and he had been at your side through battles and winters alike. But now, he looked at you with uncertainty, as if weighing whether to challenge you.

Carefully, he folded his hands before him. “May I ask why?”

You exhaled, standing slowly, smoothing the fabric of your cloak. “Because if I tell him, he will not let me leave.”

Aldren’s expression darkened. “And is that not a good thing?”

Your eyes snapped to him, a silent storm swirling in their depths. “No,” you said quietly. “Because if I do not leave, we may all perish.”

Silence stretched between you.

Aldren sighed, rubbing his temple. “You ride into battle, my lady. With a child inside you.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ride to ensure there is a future for my children—all of them.”

Aldren inhaled sharply, then released it in resignation. He knew you well enough to understand that your mind was made up, that no amount of reasoning or pleading would sway you.

“You must take care,” he murmured at last. “You must not overstrain yourself. And if you feel anything—anything—unusual, you will return at once.”

“I will,” you lied.

Aldren studied you, his gaze keen with scrutiny, but in the end, he nodded. He would not betray your trust, not now.

“I will do as you ask, my lady,” he said solemnly. “But this secret cannot be kept for long. You must tell Lord Tywin when you return.”

“When I return,” you echoed softly, as if speaking it into certainty.

But deep in your heart, you knew—if you did not return, it would not matter at all.

The cold air bit against your skin as you stepped into the courtyard of Casterly Rock, the darkened sky stretching endlessly above like an abyss without stars. The torches lining the perimeter of the fortress flickered wildly in the wind, their flames struggling against the unnatural night that had swallowed the world whole. The scent of damp stone, of leather and steel, mixed with the distinct sulfurous tang that always lingered when dragons were near.

Viserion emerged from the depths of the mines, her golden-hued scales gleaming even in the absence of true sunlight. Her wings stretched wide, sending gusts of wind through the courtyard as she let out a guttural rumble, sensing the purpose in the air. Her saddle, already secured, awaited you, the thick leather straps taut and ready for flight.

From the darkness of the mines, another presence loomed—Arraxes.

The young dragon lingered just beyond the threshold, his blood-red eyes cutting through the shadows like embers buried in ash. His serpentine form slithered closer, his nostrils flaring as he released a low, uneasy growl. It was not rebellion, nor was it defiance—it was hesitation. He felt the pull, the bond between himself and Viserion, his mother, his guiding flame. And yet, something deep within him warred against instinct.

Your heart clenched as you watched him, your gaze locking onto his unreadable, primal stare. You felt his longing, his indecision, the silent question lingering in his mind—why could he not follow? Why was he being left behind?

But after a long, agonizing moment, the young dragon released a huff and stepped back, retreating into the shadows of the mines. His glowing eyes were the last thing to vanish into the black.

The decision was made.

A gust of wind from Viserion’s wings snapped you from your thoughts, and you turned your attention back to the present. Your riders—loyal men who had trained tirelessly for this mission—stood at the ready, their steeds shifting restlessly beneath them. Their armor gleamed faintly under the torchlight, their eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and resolve.

And then, there was Tywin.

He stood apart from the others, his piercing green eyes fixed upon you with a gaze that burned deeper than any flame Viserion could conjure. He was clad in his riding leathers, his heavy fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders, but there was no mistaking the tension in his stance. He had known this moment was coming, but that did not make it easier.

You approached him slowly, the sound of your boots against the stone drowned out by the howling wind. You could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach for you and keep you here.

"You will return," he said, his voice low, edged with steel. It was not a question. It was a command.

You exhaled softly, allowing a small, knowing smile to grace your lips. "Of course."

Tywin narrowed his eyes, his gaze searching yours, as if trying to find any trace of deception. "You will return," he repeated, this time quieter. "Do not make a liar of yourself, wife."

A flicker of warmth spread through you at the possessiveness in his words, but it was overshadowed by the weight of what lay ahead. You wanted to promise him everything, but promises were fragile things in times like these.

Your hand reached for his, fingers curling around his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin. "I will be back before you know it," you murmured. "And when I return, you will scold me for being reckless, and I will laugh and say you worry too much."

Tywin exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression unreadable. "Yes," he muttered. "I expect I shall."

There was nothing more to say.

You turned, your fingers lingering against his for a moment longer before stepping away. The weight of his gaze followed you as you approached Viserion, each step measured, deliberate. The she-dragon lowered herself slightly, allowing you to climb into the saddle with practiced ease. The moment your hands grasped the reins, she shifted, restless, eager to take to the skies.

Your riders fell into position, their own mounts ready for the long flight ahead.

With one last glance at Tywin, you nodded once.

And then, with a powerful thrust of her wings, Viserion launched into the air, the ground falling away beneath you. The wind roared past your ears as the great she-dragon carried you higher and higher, her wings cutting through the endless night.

Below, the torches of Casterly Rock flickered like distant stars.

And Tywin watched, unmoving, until you were out of sight.

The deep black of the night pressed heavily against the walls of Casterly Rock, the vast stone fortress eerily silent save for the occasional crackling of the torches lining its halls. Outside, the wind howled against the cliffs, a distant, mournful sound that seemed to stretch endlessly into the void of the frozen world.

Maelor stirred in his bed, a small frown creasing his young face as a voice—her voice—whispered to him from the darkness.

"Maelor… Maelor, sweet boy, wake up."

His eyelids fluttered open, the voice wrapping around him like a gentle lullaby. It was familiar, impossibly so. His mother. But that was impossible. She had flown away with Viserion days ago, her absence leaving a hollowness in the castle that even the warmth of the dragonfires beneath the Rock could not chase away.

Yet, the voice persisted.

"Come to me, little lion. I'm waiting."

Compelled by something unseen, Maelor sat up, his small hands clutching at the heavy furs draped over him. The room was dimly lit by the embers still glowing in the hearth, casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. Damon slept soundly beside him, his breathing steady despite the scars that marred his once-unblemished skin.

Maelor hesitated for only a moment before slipping out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cold floor. He did not think to wake his brother, nor did he question why his mother was calling for him when he knew she was far away. Some part of him—the part that longed for her warmth, her presence, the safety of her embrace—urged him forward.

The door creaked as he pulled it open, and the dimly lit corridors of the Rock stretched before him like the gaping maw of a beast. The flickering torches barely pushed back the shadows, but the voice guided him, soft and insistent.

"This way, my love… just a little further…"

Maelor wandered deeper into the darkened halls, his small frame swallowed by the vastness of the corridors. The deeper he walked, the colder the air became. The warmth of the Rock, the heat of the dragons below, did not reach these parts. The torches burned lower, their flames barely more than dying embers.

And then, he saw it.

A figure stood at the end of the hall, its form barely visible through the gloom.

At first, Maelor thought it was his mother—but it wasn’t.

It was too tall. Too thin. Its body was an unnatural shade of pale, almost translucent in the dim light. And its eyes—icy blue, glowing like lanterns in the dark bored into him with unnatural hunger.

It smiled, revealing jagged, needle-sharp teeth that glistened as if coated in frost.

Maelor felt his body go stiff, his breath hitching in his throat. A scream clawed at his chest, but his lips would not part. He could not move.

The creature lifted a long, skeletal hand and beckoned him forward.

"Come, little one. Your mother is waiting."

Maelor's feet shuffled forward against his will. He did not want to move, but something was pulling him.

The closer he got, the colder the air became. Frost coated the walls, forming intricate spirals that pulsed as if alive. His vision blurred, the world narrowing to the wraith-like figure before him. The blue light in its eyes expanded, swallowing his thoughts whole.

"Maelor!"

The spell shattered as a roaring explosion of fire illuminated the corridor.

The creature shrieked as a blade, engulfed in white-hot flames, slashed through the darkness.

Beric Dondarrion and his men rushed into the corridor, their weapons drawn, their torches alight. The glow of Beric’s sword cast long shadows along the walls, the flames flickering with unnatural intensity.

"GET BACK!" Beric bellowed as he slashed at the creature again, his blade carving a molten arc through the air.

The wraith recoiled, its shriek sharp and piercing, like ice cracking beneath unbearable weight. The blue light in its eyes flickered violently, its form twisting and shifting as if struggling to maintain its presence.

Maelor collapsed to the ground, his body released from its invisible hold. He gasped, his breath forming white clouds in the freezing air.

Damon skidded into the corridor just as Thoros of Myr lifted his hands, his voice booming with a prayer to the Lord of Light.

"R'hllor, great god of flame, cast out this darkness!"

A pillar of fire erupted from the torches, roaring down the corridor and engulfing the creature in a cascade of golden flames.

The wraith let out a piercing scream, its body contorting in agony as the fire consumed it. The glow in its eyes flickered once—twice—and then was gone.

The creature collapsed into ash.

For a moment, the only sound was Maelor’s ragged breathing as he stared at the spot where the thing had stood. His tiny hands trembled, his eyes wide with lingering terror.

Beric rushed to the boy, kneeling before him. "Are you hurt?"

Maelor shook his head, his lips trembling. Damon, pale-faced and breathless, hurried to his brother’s side, grasping his arm. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. "You—You just left—"

Before Maelor could answer, alarm bells rang out through the Rock.

Beric shot to his feet, his eyes snapping toward the direction of the castle walls.

Thoros wiped sweat from his brow, his expression grim. "That was just one," he murmured. "And it got inside."

Beric turned to the nearest guard. "Ring the bells louder. Get Lord Tywin—now."

The guard did not hesitate. He turned and ran, his armor clanking against the stone as he rushed toward the war room.

Maelor turned, looking up at his older brother. Damon’s scarred face was unreadable, but his grip on Maelor’s arm was tight—almost too tight.

The young boy swallowed.

Outside, the winds howled as if something was coming.

The wind tore through the skies, sharp as Valyrian steel, slicing through the furs that lined your shoulders. Viserion’s wings thundered against the frozen air, her pale scales reflecting the faintest shimmer of what should have been moonlight—but the sky above was a void of black, no stars, no light, only the oppressive weight of endless darkness.

Below, your riders moved in a steady formation, their banners flapping violently as their horses trudged through the snow-covered terrain. You could barely make them out beneath the swirling mist of ice and frost, but they were there—loyal men, brave men, following you into the unknown. The silence of the night was unnatural, the only sound the distant howl of the wind, a mournful wail that curled around the mountains and valleys, whispering of something unseen.

Then, the world shifted.

A wall of ice and snow erupted from the earth without warning, spiraling upward like a specter clawing its way from the abyss. The storm came alive, swallowing the riders below in a matter of heartbeats. One moment, they were there—the next, gone.

Viserion reared back, her wings thrashing against the violent gusts, the force of the winds shoving her sideways. You gritted your teeth, tightening your grip on the saddle, your fingers numb from the freezing air.

"No—no, no, no."

The snow howled, a deafening roar that filled the sky. It wasn’t a natural storm—it couldn’t be. The way it moved, the way it devoured everything in its path—it was something else.

Something unnatural.

"Viserion! Fly higher!" you commanded, but the dragon twisted in the air, her balance faltering. She, too, had lost direction.

You pulled at the reins, attempting to steer her, but there was nothing. No point of reference, no horizon, only the suffocating black.

Then—the screams began.

Muffled, distant, but unmistakable. The wails of dying men and the frantic shrieks of horses as something found them in the dark. The sounds were swallowed almost immediately, as if the very air itself refused to carry the echoes of their deaths.

Viserion bucked wildly beneath you, her body writhing.

"Dracarys!" you roared.

She obeyed, her mighty throat igniting as a torrent of golden-white flame erupted into the void.

It did nothing.

The fire vanished the moment it left her maw, consumed by the very darkness itself. It was as if the night had a hunger of its own, devouring the heat, the light, leaving nothing but the frigid chill of the abyss.

The cold sank into your bones—something was watching.

Then, you saw it.

The darkness broke.

The storm lifted, just enough for you to see what lay ahead.

Your breath seized in your throat, your heart slamming against your ribs.

An army.

An endless army.

Miles upon miles of them, stretching to the very ends of the world. Their armor was frozen over with rime, their flesh long decayed, but their eyes—all of them—burned blue.

They were waiting.

A thousand—ten thousand—a hundred thousand. Their weapons, their rotted banners, their skeletal steeds.

And at their center, it stood.

A figure upon an undead beast, a skeletal dragon with tattered wings of ice. Its rider—tall, gaunt, clad in blackened, frozen armor, its face obscured save for those impossibly bright blue eyes.

The Night King.

His gaze lifted to the sky, and though his expression did not shift, you felt his attention settle on you.

Then—the voice.

A screeching, wretched sound, not spoken but forced into your very skull. It was neither words nor whispers, but pain.

Your vision blurred, agony lancing through your skull like a thousand shards of ice. Your hands trembled against the reins, your breath coming in short, painful gasps.

Viserion screamed.

She twisted midair, writhing in pain as the sound tore through her skull, her mighty wings faltering. You clung to her, barely holding on as she spiraled, her shrieks echoing across the wasteland.

You didn’t know if you were screaming too.

The world spun.

Then—Viserion surged forward.

Her instincts overrode the pain, her body moving. She veered northward, desperate to escape the unseen force trying to drag her from the sky.

The Night King watched.

The wights watched.

The thousands upon thousands of dead watched.

And as you vanished beyond the storm, the voice echoed one last time—a promise.

"Soon."

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Chondrichthyes - Squaliformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Squaliformes are an order of sharks that includes about 126 species in 7 families. These families include Centrophoridae (“gulper sharks”), Dalatiidae (“kitefin sharks”), Echinorhinidae (“bramble sharks”), Etmopteridae (“lantern sharks”), Oxynotidae (“roughsharks”), Somniosidae (“sleeper sharks”), and Squalidae (“dogfish”).

Members of the order have two dorsal fins, which usually possess spines. They usually have a sharp head, no anal fin or nictitating membrane, and five to seven gill slits. They are found worldwide in saltwater or brackish water. Most species are nocturnal or live in the deep sea. Bioluminescence evolved once in Squaliformes, approximately 111–153 million years ago, and helped the Squaliformes radiate and adapt to the deep sea, thought some of the families have since lost this adaptation. Members of the families Etmoperidae, Dalatiidae, Oxynotidae, as well as the Velvet Dogfish (Zameus squamulosus), still possess photophores, luminous organs, and exhibit intrinsic bioluminescence. While most species are small (less than 2 m long), the Sleeper Sharks are known for having some very large specimens such as the Greenland shark (Somniosus microcephalus) which reaches a confirmed length of 6.4 m (21 ft) long, and the Pacific Sleeper Shark (Somniosus pacificus) (gif below) which could possibly reach lengths in excess of 7 m (23 ft). Meanwhile, this order also contains the smallest shark in the world, the Dwarf Lanternshark (Etmopterus perryi), which reaches a maximum adult length of 20 cm (8 in) long.

Squaliformes are ovoviviparous, giving live birth and sustaining their embryos by yolk and possibly also by uterine fluid secreted by the mother. Many have large litters, though this of course varies by species.

The Squaliformes date back to the Late Jurassic.

(source)

Propaganda under the cut:

Dogfish earned their common name after a group of fishermen reportedly observed Spiny Dogfish (Squalus acanthias) chasing down smaller fish in dog-like packs.

The Spiny Dogfish is a highly migratory species: one shark was recorded as travelling 8,000 km (5,000 miles) after being tagged in Washington state, United States, and found again later in Japan.

Uniquely amongst sharks, Dogfish possess venom which coats their dorsal spines; this venom is mildly toxic to humans and is harmful only if the shark is manhandled.

As lanternsharks are often found in large numbers at a time, and with the eyes and beaks of cephalopod species much larger than them in their stomachs, it is likely that they cooperatively hunt in packs. They may use their bioluminescent photophores to keep sight of and coordinate with their cohorts.

Echinorhiniformes are relatively large. The Bramble Shark (Echinorhinus brucus) grows up to 3.1 m (10 ft) long and the Prickly Shark (Echinorhinus cookei) up to 4.0 m (13.1 ft). However, both species are known for being harmless to humans and docile, either tolerating contact or fleeing when closely approached, even though they are sometimes caught as bycatch or used for fishmeal and liver oil.

One record of a pregnant Prickly Shark (Echinorhinus cookei) was gestating 114 embryos! This ranks among the largest known litters from any shark.

The Kitefin Shark (Dalatias licha) is the largest luminous vertebrate known, typically growing 1.0–1.4 m (3.3–4.6 ft) long, though examples as long as 5.9 ft (180 cm) have been encountered. The shark’s bioluminesence is directed downwards from its front or belly. There are two hypotheses for this use of bioluminesence; either it illuminates the sea floor while the shark is searching for prey, or it is used as a counter-illumination camouflage when approaching prey.

The Kitefin Shark has a history of human exploitation. The meat is consumed in the eastern Atlantic and Japan, and the offal processed into fishmeal. The liver oil is utilized in Portugal, Japan, and South Africa. The skin is made into a type of shagreen useful in the making of furniture and jewelry, and is also favored for the manufacture of "boroso", a Spanish polished leather. A fishery targeting this species existed off the Azores from the 1970s to the 1990s, but collapsed when the Kitefin Shark population quickly declined, showing the high susceptibility of deep-sea sharks to human exploitation. The species is now listed as vulnerable.

The Taillight Shark (Euprotomicroides zantedeschia) has a pouch-like gland on its abdomen that emits clouds of luminescent blue fluid as a squid-ink-like defense mechanism.

The genus Isistius contains two species of “Cookiecutter Shark.” These sharks are notorious for biting small chunks off of larger animals in passing, often leaving round, cookie-cutter shaped scars. Cookiecutter Sharks sometimes travel in packs, and if their bite weakens a target and causes it to be unable to swim properly, they will pounce when the prey begins to sink. They will also consume whole smaller prey, such as squid. Their green luminescence is the strongest known of any shark, and is concentrated on their underside, but absent on their throat and gill slits. This creates a dark “collar” that resembles the silhouette of a small fish, while the rest of its body blends into the downwelling light via its bioluminescence. When a would-be predator approaches, the cookiecutter shark latches on.

Due to their deep sea habitat, most sleeper shark species are rarely observed and relatively unknown, making them some of the most mysterious shark species. The Taiwan Sleeper Shark (Somniosus cheni) is only known from a single adult specimen, a 1.34 m (4.4 ft) long pregnant female with 33 embryos, caught in 2017. The Azores Dogfish (Scymnodalatias garricki) has only been caught twice. Fewer than a dozen specimens of Frog Shark (Somniosus longus) have been collected, usually as bycatch. One species, the Longnose Sleeper Shark (Somniosus sp.) has yet to be formally described. Due to the nature of this tournament, I may be unable to even include many of these species in later rounds due to lack of good photographs. But they’re out there. Waiting. Hiding.

Greenland Shark (Somniosus microcephalus) meat is toxic to mammals due to its high levels of trimethylamine N-oxide, although a treated form of it is eaten in Iceland as a delicacy known as kæstur hákarl. To make the shark meat safe for human consumption, it is first fermented and then dried in a process that can take multiple months. The shark was traditionally fermented by burying the meat in gravel pits near the ocean for at least several weeks. In the present day, shark cuts are typically fermented in containers that are perforated to allow liquid to drain. The fermentation process converts urea into ammonia and TMAO into TMA, which then drains as liquid from the meat. The meat is then excavated and hung in strips to dry for several more months. In modern times, the Greenland Sharks used for hákarl production are purchased from fishing ships where the sharks were trapped in nets as bycatch, and are not intentionally targeted.

Greenland Sharks are one of the longest and slowest-lived animals on Earth. Pups are born alive after an estimated gestation period of 8 to 18 years. They reach sexual maturity at about 150 years of age. They grow at a rate of 0.5–1 cm a year. Their lifespan is estimated to be up to 500 years. They are the closest things we have to elves.

[zoloteh-volossya]

BG3 Fanfiction Statistics, Part 1

I’ve seen some discussions of BG3 fandom trends floating around tumblr that spoke from experience but lacked hard data to refer to. As a fan of Baldur’s Gate 3, fanfiction, and graphs, I therefore thought it would be neat and illustrative to go through AO3 and document some of the statistics this fandom.

I did a similar exercise back in January and posted the results here. However, I was a bit unhappy with this analysis – it was missing some data that I consider to be relevant, I didn’t end up discussing the results much, and I only posted it to reddit. Most discussions for the creative side of fandom seem to happen on tumblr, so I made this account to post it here.

I will try and be as transparent as possible when discussing how I obtained and processed this data. A copy of my spreadsheet can be found here and contains all of the data I will be discussing. Most of the data I feature in this essay will be presented as graphs. Below each graph I will discuss the patterns shown in the graph and provide what I believe to be some relevant and/or interesting number values. If you want to see all the numbers, please refer to my spreadsheet. If you don’t care about the numbers and/or my thoughts about them, feel free to skim through and just look at the charts!

A note before I start – I gathered this data between July 21, 2024 and July 24, 2024. It is out of date as of my writing this and will be even more out of date by the time you read it. However, I believe the general fandom trends will hold up over time – the same patterns that I observed in January are largely still present in July.

Due to the tumblr post image limit and my preponderance of graphs, I will be breaking this behemoth of an essay into two parts:

General Fandom Statistics, the Player Character, and the Women

The Men, a Character Comparison, and a Pairing Analysis

We are currently in part 1. Part 2 can be found at this link. The rest of part 1 is below the read more because this is very long.

GENERAL FANDOM STATS

This information was found by looking at the side bar when browsing Baldur’s Gate fics. Therefore, this data set includes fics from the previous two Baldur’s Gate games. However, given that the games were released in 1998 and 2000, respectively, most of the fanfiction for them was likely posted to FF.net and the error from including what little fic for them was posted to AO3 is likely small.

At the time of my data gathering, there were 31,043 Baldur’s Gate fics on AO3.

RATINGS

To the surprise of nobody in the BG3 fandom, Explicit fic is the largest category, at 38% of all fics produced. It’s followed by Mature (24%), Teen and Up (20%), General (12%) and Not Rated (6%). Not all of the Explicit and Mature fics are necessarily horny – those warnings also apply to extreme violence (hello, Dark Urge). But let’s be real, most of them are tagged that way for sex.

WARNINGS

Speaking of extreme violence, let’s take a look at the warnings used for fics in this fandom.

Just about half (50.2%) of BG fics have no warnings at all. About 17.6% have warnings for graphic depictions of violence – lower than I would have expected, honestly, for a video game that features as much murder as this one does (at least, how I play it...). About 5.4% of fics feature a warning for rape, 4.7% feature major character death, and 0.5% feature underage sex.

CATEGORIES

AO3 allows users to select any categories from a list of possible options (F/M, M/M, F/F, Gen, Other, and Multi). F/M, M/M, and F/F are pretty self explanatory, Gen fics don’t focus on a relationship, Multi fics focus on a relationship between three or more people, and Other is a catch all for fics that don’t fit into any of the previous categories very well. For shipping with nonbinary (NB) characters, I have seen a variety of approaches. Some people select the category closest to the NB character’s presentation, some select multiple categories, and some select Other.

One very useful tool that I will be introducing here is the use of “otp:true.” When “otp:true” is entered into the “Search within results” bar while filtering tags, AO3 will only return fics that have just one pairing tagged. This filters out all fics that have background pairings or multiple focus pairings. Results with “otp:true” are typically solely focused on that particular pairing.

With all that explanation out of the way, the results:

We can clearly see that the most common category for Baldur’s Gate fics is M/F, with 43.3% of all fics featuring a M/F pairing. 36.4% of all fics feature a M/M pairing, 10.6% feature a F/F pairing, 11.7% are more General, 8.0% feature Multiple people in a pairing, and 10.9% are Other. These percentages add up to more than 100% because a fic can be tagged with multiple categories.

Things change a bit when you filter for “otp:true” and only include fics that focus on just one pairing. In this case, M/M predominates, with a whopping 46.0% of fics. M/F follows with 31.2%, F/F with 11.1%, 7.7% are General, 9.7% are Other, and 3.0% are still tagged as Multi (presumably for fics where the only pairing is a threesome or such).

CHARACTERS

As a last look at more general content before I begin a deep dive into looking at the various characters, I took a look at the 30 most popular character tags.

This was a surprise to me the first time I looked at it in January. In the previous two video game fandoms I was in that had a player character (Mass Effect and Fire Emblem: Three Houses), the player character was the most popular character tag in that fandom. In this case, though, Astarion has the most fics that feature him, and by a pretty significant margin (~5,000 more fics than Tav). He appears in 63.0% of fics. Tav is next, at 46.7% of fics. Then we have the rest of the six Origin characters: Gale (34.5% of fics), Shadowheart (23.7%), Karlach (20.5%), Wyll (18.6%), and Lae’zel (15.9%), as well as Halsin (15.8%) and the Dark Urge (15.3%). That they all are next to each other makes sense, as fics that focus on one character or pairing will often tag the entire ensemble. Lae’zel only showing up 16% of the time seems low, though, for a member of the main cast. To me, this indicates that not many fics are true ensemble fics that include all of the main cast.

After this block of main characters, we drop a bit to Gortash, who shows up in 7.4% of fics. He’s the most popular villain by far, followed by Cazador (4.7%) and Raphael (4.6%). Orin only shows up in 2.9% of fics and Ketheric is featured in only 1.1% of fics.

Jaheira shows up in 4.4% of fics, but her values may include fics from the earlier Baldur’s Gate games. Poor Minthara is the 16th most tagged character and only shows up in 2.5% of fics. Rolan (a tiefling NPC) shows up in more fics than she does.

Despite being featured in previous Baldur’s Gate game fics as well as BG3, Minsc does not seem popular – he’s #25, being tagged in 1.3% of fics.

One thing I did note was the comparative lack of focus on the overarching plot of the game in BG3 fics. I’ll use the Emperor as a barometer for this, as it’s inextricably interwoven into everything having to do with the Absolute, the mysterious artifact, and our protagonists’ immunity to it. Yet, it only appears in 535 fics of over 31,000 – approximately 1.7% of all BG fics. This tells me that there isn’t much engagement with the actual illithid plot of the game in most fics – at least not to the extent where major plot relevant characters are being tagged.

CHARACTER PAIRING STATISTICS

Most of my time for this analysis was spent collecting data for the various pairing tags. I went through the top 300 pairing tags by order of popularity (ending with Mystra/Cazador, of all things) and recorded how many fics each rating had and how many fics each category had both with and without “otp:true” applied. Coincidentally, this included all the pairings with 5 or more fics in them at the time – by sheer luck the 301st pairing tag had only 4 fics. I judged that I could ignore pairing tags with fewer than 5 fics without affecting the results of my analyses too much (also it had taken 4 days to get this far and I was tired).

However, a lot of authors tag their fics with both, say, Astarion/Tav and Astarion/F!OC. But for this exercise I’m not really looking at how authors refer to the Tav/Dark Urge/self insert character in their tagging nomenclature. I’m more interested in how many fics exist for, say, the pairing of Astarion and the player character.

To this end, I combined the numbers for Tav, Dark Urge, OC, F!OC, M!OC, NB!OC, Reader, and You for each character ship. In order to avoid double counting fics, once I had added the numbers for a particular tag I excluded that tag from all future counts.

[X]/PC = [X]/Tav + ([X]/Dark Urge with the [X]/Tav tag excluded) + ([X]/Original Character with the [X]/Tav and [X]/Dark Urge excluded) + ([X]/Reader with [X]/Tav, [X]/Dark Urge, and [X]/Original Character excluded) and so on.

This process dropped the total number of pairings from 300 to 162. However, it also introduces an error. Some fics ship characters with an OC who is not a Tav/Dark Urge/self insert. In condensing all pairings with original characters to the “PC” supercategory, I am ignoring that and counting their original character as a Tav/Dark Urge equivalent. Unfortunately, this is just something I have to live with in order to be able to make the data more manageable, as there is no way to tell which fics are using the OC tag to represent a Tav/Dark Urge and which are not on a mass data scale. I don’t think it will skew the results too much, at least.

I pulled out the top 20 ships for each major character in BG3 (Tav, Dark Urge, the PC, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, Minthara, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin) before and after I combined the player character tags into the PC supercategory. For each character, I then determined how much of each fic category (M/F, M/M, F/F, Other, Multi) they had, both for all of their pairings and for their pairing with the PC specifically.

Let's start by looking at the player character and its two representatives.

TAV

Tav is in 71 of the top 300 ship tags in the BG3 fandom.

Astarion completely dominates Tav’s ships, with a whopping 9,235 fics (1,839 otp:true fics). In fact, in order to be able to see the tiny little boxes that represent everyone else, here’s another version of this chart, this time with Astarion excluded.

There, that’s a bit more legible. The next highest is Gale, with 2,909 fics (652 otp:true) – less than a third as many fics as Astarion. Halsin comes third with 1,304 fics (207 otp:true) and Shadowheart is the first canon woman to show up, with 806 fics (132 otp:true). Astarion has more than 11 times as many fics with Tav as Shadowheart does. Karlach comes next, with 724 fics (186 otp:true). Raphael comes sixth, with 176 more fics than #7 Wyll who has 442 fics (100 otp:true). Lae’zel is #11 with 300 fics, under Gortash, Rolan, and a threesome with Halsin and Astarion. Minthara is the least popular main character to ship with Tav. She’s #15 with 146 fics (33 otp:true), and has fewer fics with Tav than Zevlor, the Emperor or Haarlep. In a marked improvement from the state of affairs in January, however, she no longer has fewer fics than Kar’niss.

Taking a look at the fic category breakdown, we can see that M/F and M/M predominate for Tav, while there is very little F/F. Dividing the values by the total number of fics, 59.8% of all fics and 50.2% of otp:true fics are tagged M/F, 35.6% of all fics and 34.9% of otp:true fics are tagged M/M, 7.6% of all fics and 4.4% of otp:true fics are tagged F/F, and 13.2% of all fics and 14.2% of otp:true fics are tagged Other. As the proportions of M/F and F/F fics drop when otp:true is applied, I assume that it is more common for M/F and F/F pairings to have background ships or be a background ship (remember that if it is not otp:true, we have no idea if the pairing with Tav is the pairing category being counted.)

THE DARK URGE

The Dark Urge is in 38 of the top 300 ship tags of the BG3 fandom, a bit over half as many as Tav.

While Astarion once again is the most popular character to ship with the Dark Urge (2,165 fics), this time he actually has competition! Gortash/Dark Urge comes in at a very respectable second place with 1,594 fics (about three quarters of Astarion/Dark Urge’s total fic count) and actually beat Astarion by over 100 fics once you apply otp:true (562 fics for Astarion vs 691 fics for Gortash). But after Gortash we once again drop down to numbers we struggle to even see on the chart. Gale is the most visible with 402 fics total (Gale has fewer fics total with the Dark Urge than Astarion or Gortash have with otp:true applied). After that we have a group of Halsin, Shadowheart, and Karlach, all with between 120-150 fics. No other pairing has over 100 fics.

Dark Urge/Tav (99 fics) and Dark Urge/Orin (87 fics) have more fics than Dark Urge/Wyll (83 fics) or Dark Urge/Minthara (80 fics). For Wyll, this is a sign that his pairing with the Dark Urge is not very popular (he drops from #7 with Tav to #9 with the Dark Urge). For Minthara, however, this is a significant climb in the rankings – she was #15 with Tav and #10 with the Dark Urge.

But what’s really interesting to me is the fic category breakdown for the Dark Urge.

The Dark Urge has noticeably more M/M content than Tav does (47.0% vs 35.6% for all fics, 56.9% vs 34.9% for opt:true) and slightly more F/F content than Tav does (10.2% vs 7.6% for all fics, 5.2% vs 4.4% for otp:true), and correspondingly less F/M content. At 13.4% for all fics and 12.8% of otp:true fics, the proportion of Other fic stays just about the same as for Tav.

THE PLAYER CHARACTER

The PC is a combination of Tav, Dark Urge, Original Character, Reader, and You. The PC is in 64 of the top 162 pairings of the BG3 fandom (losing 5 pairings from Tav as I combined Tav/Tav, Tav/Dark Urge, Tav/Reader and so on into one PC/OC category).

The player character was involved in 76.0% of all pairings and 62.1% of otp:true pairings (that is, if you add up every fic for every pairing which the PC is in and divide it by sum of all fics for all BG3 pairings I tracked). This means that over three quarters of shipping in the BG3 fandom is with the player character. It’s not surprising, but it is notable – that’s a very large proportion.

Holy smokes, Astarion! He dominates the rankings even more than before. This time, I was curious to see how much. See below for a proportional representation of all of the PC pairings (note: because many fics have multiple pairings, this circle does not represent the total number of fics but rather the total number of times any pairing with the PC has been tagged).

Astarion composes a full 45% of all pairings with the PC, Gale is bit over 13%, Gortash is 7.3% for all fics and 11.3% of otp:true fics, while Halsin has the opposite trend with 6.3% of all fics and 4.9% of otp:true fics. Shadowheart, Karlach, Raphael, and Wyll all are between 2% and 4% (with Raphael once again beating Wyll). Lae’zel is down at #11 with 1.4% and Minthara is all the way at #16 with 0.9%.

Out of curiosity, I went through all of the PC’s pairings and sorted them by the gender of the person being shipped with the PC.

Oof.

85.7% of all PC ships are with men, 10.4% are with women, and 1.9% are nonbinary beings (Haarlep, the Emperor, and Omeluum). When you apply otp:true, 87.1% of the player character’s ships are with men, 9.9% are with women, and 1.3% are with nonbinary beings.

SHADOWHEART

Welp! Let’s take a look at that 10%, starting with Shadowheart.

If you add up all the fics for all the pairings that include Shadowheart and divide that by the sum of all fics for all 162 pairings I collected, you can see that she is present in 7.0% of pairings. Interestingly, this is true both for all fics and for otp:true fics. She is in 30 of the top 300 ship tags and 24 of the 162 pairings that remain once the player character tags are consolidated.

(I have shortened Shadowheart's name to SH and Shart in various charts to keep the labels from taking up too much room in the graph.)

Lae’zel/Shadowheart is in close competition with Shadowheart/Tav. When all the player characters are condensed into the PC, though, that gap widens.

Shadowheart has 980 fics with the PC, 694 with Lae’zel, 226 with Karlach, 111 with Gale, 61 with Astarion, 51 with Nocturne, 36 with Halsin, 26 with Minthara, and 21 with Wyll (her least popular ship with a main character, at #12). 7 of her top 20 pairings are threesomes – Aylin/Isobel/SH at #8 with 35 fics, Karlach/PC/SH at #9, Karlach/Lae’zel/SH at #10, Astarion/PC/SH at #13, Halsin/PC/SH at #14, Karlach/Wyll/SH at #17, and Gale/Lae’zel/SH at #18.

Lae’zel/Shadowheart has an unusually high number of otp:true fics – almost half of its total fic count. It seems more popular to ship Shadowheart with women than men – both her ships with Lae’zel and Karlach are more popular than Astarion, Gale, or Wyll and her threesomes with women have more fics than her threesomes with men.

The fic category breakdown for Shadowheart matches this expectation.

Boy howdy is Shadowheart fic gay! She has over twice as much F/F fic than M/F fic, just looking at raw numbers of fics. Looking at the proportions of her total fic count, F/F fic represents 71.4% of all of her fics, M/F fic is 35.2%, Other is 10.0%, and Multi is 18.8%. (These percentages add up to more than 100% because many fics tag multiple categories.) This also means that we can’t know that these numbers necessarily include Shadowheart – witness the numbers of M/M fics. All it means is that these categories were on fics in which a Shadowheart pairing was also tagged.

Looking at the otp:true numbers gives us a better picture of what fics where only Shadowheart is in a relationship are like (though this not necessarily an accurate idea of patterns for her overall, as less than a third of her total fics are otp:true). 76.4% of otp:true fics are F/F, 19.8% are M/F, 3.8% are Other, and for some reason 1.2% (9 fics) are M/M. Over three quarters of Shadowheart’s otp:true pairings are femmeslash.

Shadowheart’s fics with the PC character follow pretty much the same pattern as her ships more generally, albeit with slightly less F/F (likely from the loss of the relative behemoth that is Shadowheart/Lae’zel).

32.9% of her pairings with the PC have the M/F tag, 68.1% are tagged F/F, 11.3% are tagged Other, and 18.5% are tagged Multi. Applying otp:true, 25.7% are M/F, 62.6% are F/F, and 12.3% are Other (this likely includes a substantial portion of nonbinary PCs).

KARLACH

Karlach is present in 6.0% of all fic pairings and 5.4% of otp:true fic pairings. She has 31 ship tags in the top 300 ship tags, which condense down to 26 pairings when all player character stand ins are combined.

Her second most popular ship after Tav is with Wyll, though unlike with Shadowheart the pairing is not popular enough to give Tav a run for his/her/their money. Condensing all the player characters widens this gap significantly.

The PC is overwhelmingly Karlach’s most popular ship, with 890 fics. Wyll is second, with 327 fics – less than half as many. Shadowheart and Astarion follow with 226 and 157, respectively. Dammon is next, with 91 fics, and then Lae’zel has 65. She then has a number of threesomes, Minthara (#9 with 32 fics), and Gale (#11 with 18 fics). Halsin is her least popular pairing with a main character, coming in at #15 with 11 fics.

Surprisingly, for all that Karlach is fairly butch, her pairings with men are relatively more popular than we see with the more femme Shadowheart. The category statistics illustrate this clearly.

Compared to Shadowheart, Karlach has a lower proportion of F/F and higher proportions of M/F and Multi fics. F/F is tagged on 51.8% of her fics, M/F on 42.5%, Other on 12.3% and Multi on 27.7%. (Remember that fics can be tagged with multiple categories and that just because a category is tagged doesn’t mean that Karlach is involved in that category.) Looking at otp:true gives us a look at fics where she is the sole focus. F/F is 55.0% of her otp:true fics, M/F drops to 34.4%, Multi drops to 6.1%, and Other stays fairly high at 10.4%.

In Karlach’s pairings with the player character, things change significantly.

It immediately becomes clear that the large number of M/F fics in her general pairings were largely due to her relatively popular ships with Wyll, Astarion, and Dammon. F/F dominates Karlach’s pairings with the PC with 64.0% (67.8% with otp:true applied) of fics, which puts her at just slightly less than Shadowheart. M/F is tagged in 28.5% of her fics with the PC (14.0% with otp:true applied), Multi is tagged 19.4% but drops to 1.2% for otp:true, and Other remains high with 18.0% of fics and 20.2% of otp:true fics with the PC.

Back in January, I noted that of the main cast, Karlach had the highest proportion of ships with nonbinary OCs. I didn’t track the breakdown of OC subcategories this time, but the high numbers in the Other category bear it out.

LAE'ZEL

Counting all fics for all pairings in which Lae’zel is tagged, she is in a mere 3.8% of BG3 pairings, though it rises to 4.5% when otp:true is applied. She is in 23 of the top 300 ship tags, a number that drops down to 18 when I consolidate the player character tags together.

Shadowheart/Lae’zel has twice as many fics as Lae’zel/Tav. Looking at the situation with the PC does not change this much.

Unlike any other main character, Lae’zel’s most popular ship is not with the PC but with Shadowheart. She has 694 fics with Shadowheart, 355 with the PC, 65 with Karlach, 26 with Gale, 26 with Wyll, 25 with Astarion, 16 with Minthara, and 12 with Halsin. She is in an unusually low number of threesomes – only 4. It’s notable though how skewed her numbers are towards women – a threesome with Karlach and Shadowheart has more fics than any of her pairings with a canon man. The various whole team multiship pairings, none of which have more than 11 fics, comprise most of the tail end of her ship list.

Speaking of the tail end of her ship list, what happens when we condense the player character tags is that Lae’zel does not reach a full 20 ships – she drops to 18 pairings. She has more than this, of course, but my methodology ignores all pairings with fewer than 5 fics (which means that my friend’s Lae’zel/Astarion/Tav fic is not counted). Therefore, Lae’zel’s 19th and 20th most popular pairings have 4 fics or fewer. I have represented these missing pairings with little :( emojis, because this is a sad state of affairs.

This is a symptom of a state of affairs in which Lae’zel is just not very popular in the AO3 side of BG3 fandom. Her most popular ship is Shadowheart’s second most popular ship, and the numbers crater after that. No Lae’zel ship other than Shadowheart and the PC has more than 100 fics.

Lae’zel’s most popular ships being women is demonstrated clearly by the fic category breakdown.

Wow! At a whopping 76.3% of all of Lae’zel’s fics and 88.9% of Lae’zel’s otp:true fics, Lae’zel has a higher proportion of F/F fic than Shadowheart. Granted, they’re both sizable portions of each other’s total F/F count. 26.1% of Lae’zel’s fics have the M/F tag, though this drops to a mere 7.1% when otp:true is applied. Other is tagged in 11.6% of fics but drops to 2.0% with otp:true. 18.1% of her fics are tagged Multi but this likewise drops to 4.4% with otp:true.

The pertinent question for Lae’zel is how much of her F/F count is due to her pairing with Shadowheart? How gay are her pairings with the PC?

The answer is... still pretty gay! F/F is not quite as dominant, with 67.3% of all her fics with the PC and 80.0% of her fics where only Lae’zel/PC is tagged – but 80% is a still a really high proportion! This indicates to me that a lot of the M/F in the “All Fics” chart likely does not involve Lae’zel. M/F is tagged in 33.5% of her fics with the PC, a number which is more than halved to 12.7% when otp:true is applied. 13.2% of her fics are tagged Other, which drops to 5.5% with otp:true – much less than for Shadowheart and Karlach. It seems either Lae’zel is not as popular for nonbinary OCs or that a large proportion of the Other tag is from mind flayer Tavs/Durges and people don’t write Lae’zel with a mind flayer love interest.

One other notable fact is that Lae’zel is the only female companion without any otp:true M/M PC fic. It could be due to her low fic numbers in the first place, but I prefer to think that Lae’zel fans are simply more fastidious about correctly tagging fic. It certainly fits her character.

MINTHARA

Ah, Minthara. Unquestionably the least popular of the main romanceable characters in BG3, her pairings only comprise 1.1% of all BG3 fanfic pairings, a number that rises to a whopping(/sarcastic) 1.4% of otp:true pairings. She has only 14 ship tags in the 300 most popular ship tags for BG3, a number that drops further to a mere 9 pairings once I’ve combined all the player character tags.

What’s notable about Minthara’s ship tags is the popularity of the Dark Urge relative to Tav. Minthara has 146 fics with Tav and 80 with the Dark Urge. This is a higher proportion than other main characters have. It may be because more people write her on evil routes (which likely disproportionately feature the Dark Urge) or because she has some very good lines for the Dark Urge and their Slayer form.

Another observation is the lack of primary non-PC ships. The other characters that I look at all have a major non-PC ship – Shadowheart/Lae’zel, Karlach/Wyll, Gale/Astarion, Wyll/Astarion, Halsin/Astarion. Minthara doesn’t really have that. Her most popular non-PC ship is Orin, at #5 and with a mere 45 fics. This is illustrated clearly once all the player character tags are combined.

The PC dominates Minthara’s pairings to an extent not seen with any other character, not even Astarion. She drops from 234 fics with the PC (65 otp:true) to 45 fics with Orin (26 otp:true), 32 with Karlach (16 otp:true) and 26 with Shadowheart (11 otp:true). Every other pairing has 16 or less fics. Tying into that, Minthara has very few pairings with 5 or more fics. She does not even have enough for a top 10! I have replaced her missing pairings with the :( emoji because this is sad.

Another notable thing about this chart, though, is how few fics Minthara has just in general. Lae’zel and Wyll, the other neglected companions, both have at least 500 fics with their most popular partner. Minthara does not even break 250. In fact, none of her pairings with someone other than the PC have over 50 fics.

Another interesting fact is that Minthara is the only character in this analysis to not have any threesomes or moresomes in her pairings with over 5 fics. She doesn’t share, it seems.

For some reason, Minthara has 8 ships with Councillor Florrick of all people. And it’s not all by the same author, which is what I would expect for a somewhat out there pairing. Presumably someone out there wrote a really good fic which then inspired others to play with the idea. In a small fandom like Minthara’s, one fic like that can make quite a difference.

As can be expected, Minthara’s fic categories are pretty damn gay.

F/F is tagged in 79.0% of her fics (77.6% of otp:true fics). M/M is tagged in 21.3% of her fics (17.1% of otp:true fics), Other in 6.1% (4.6% otp:true), and Multi in 8.9% though it drops to 1.3% of her otp:true fics. With these numbers, Minthara is arguably the gayest major character in the BG3 fandom by fic count, though Lae’zel beats her when you take otp:true into effect.

This pattern holds true when looking at her ship with the player character. 77.8% of her fics with the PC are tagged F/F (73.8% of otp:true fics), 23.5% are tagged M/F (15.4% otp:true), 8.5% are tagged Other (10.8% otp:true), and 9.4% are tagged Multi (3.1% otp:true). The latter is a bit confusing given that she has no multiship pairings. It may include collections of Reader/[X] fics that include Minthara.

PART 2

Welp. I’ve run into the tumblr post image limit. For part 2 of this essay, which discusses Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin and then compares all 8 of the main characters against each other on a variety of metrics, see this link.

[prozach27]

As someone who has had posts supporting Kamala Harris in the 2024 election receive an influx of attention, I think it’s worth mentioning that this leads to a number of accounts 1) sending me copy and pasted, word for word indictments of her not letting Palestinians speak at the DNC, and 2) reblogging the post to state that people who support democrats are racist because democrats “support genocide” - despite my post arguing that democrats shouldn’t be trusted to have our best interest in mind and that they’re complicit in genocide but more likely to capitulate to demands than a Trump administration. Interestingly, those who reblog to talk about how white democrats supporting Kamala are racist also have never offered a single alternate option, have no candidates they’re recommending, and offer no ways to support Palestine during their critique.

I am BEGGING you all to recognize election interference when it is this blatant. Do you know who is most likely to become concerned about voting based on this messaging? White liberals in their teens and 20s who make up a significant portion of the Democratic voting population. Do you know who falls victim to people concerned about how “Harris won’t let Palestinians speak” at the DNC? Liberals who care about Palestine, which is DEMONSTRABLY the largest portion of the voting base. We will never have a viable candidate for president who presses for everything we want against Israel since they’re one of our closest allies for decades. Regardless, voting for president isn’t about voting for who’s the best person - it’s about voting for the enemy you want in office to fight against in meeting your demands. You have Trump, who has told Israel to finish the job, and Harris, who has repeatedly discussed ceasefires and resolutions. If your politics see those two positions as no different, tell that to the Palestinian lives who will be saved in a ceasefire brokered by the US.

Tumblr is once again home to election interference, and I am asking you to please recognize the signs that accounts are preying upon potential Democratic voters to get Trump in office and make things exponentially worse. Question why someone is railing against Harris while offering no alternative. Ask yourself, “who is it this person is telling me to support in the election, how viable is their preferred candidate to win, and why do they think they’re better?” If a post tearing down Harris can’t meet these basic requirements, assume it’s election interference and report it. Better yet, reblog this post and tag blogs who continually fail to meet these requirements so people can block them. We need to be aware that this is happening. It’s time to combat it as a community.

[vaspider]

I want to learn more about Jewish culture and history after a recent Ancestry test confirmed my family are Ashkenazi Jews, but the process is daunting with the state of misinformation and antisemitism in the USA. How can I start if going to a synagogue and asking is just not an option? (Comments and info in tags are welcome)

A few places to start. :)

I have tried to provide a basic, broad selection of sites across a number of different strains of thought within the Jewish world. None of these links are an endorsement of a particular site, publication on that site, or point of view on that site. We're Jews: we disagree strenuously about deeply essential things & are still one people.

I really hate that I have to say these things, but every time I post about Judaism at all, someone comes through like they think they're Encyclopedia Brown or some shit, trying to sniff out what I 'really mean' by what I post. What I mean is that these are basic resources. :)

[olderthannetfic]

My fandom is a small to medium sized fandom, and about 10% of the fics on AO3 are explicit. It's by no means a small number, but it could be way larger because some of the largest smut works are smut collection fics that have over a hundred chapters, each with a different oneshot. Imagine how large the explicit tag could've been if those had been separate fics in a series!

I'm about to inflate the tag by posting 30 kinktober-like challenge fics as fics and not as one big fic, which I'm pretty proud of. People will complain that this should've been one big fic, but I don't care. I'm writing for 20 ships, and like this, I get to tag every kink and top/bottom roles on each fic instead of keeping people guessing and bumping an unrelated huge oneshot collection fic to the top of a ship tag it has nothing to do with anymore every day.

The fandom is also infested with antis, so I wonder what they'll do when a bunch of porn gets posted, some featuring noncon and most having underage teenage characters. They're so anti that they hate on porn between the adult characters too. For some of these ships, I'm writing the first explicit fic in the entire tag. Pretty excited to start.

--

[leonardalphachurch]

so i was inspired by @rvbrarepairweekdos to see what the least common ships on ao3 are but i couldnt really find a good way to sort that so. i made a spreadsheet.

nothings really all that surprising, but theres some interesting stuff here! such as:

there are 194 ships with only 1 tag. the most surprising to me was lopez/simmons. youd think there'd more than just one, with the actually having a pretty interesting canon dynamic and all. the one that hurt the most is temple/tucker........ i mean i know im also not writing it but T-T

the highest ship that made me go "huh?" was delta/maine at 66th. i guess guns for hire was very popular, wasnt it.

wash is absolutely the fandom bicycyle; he has the most tags, the most ships, and the most unique pairings.

grimmons is 1st in terms of number of tags, which puts simmons and grif and 3rd and 4th, respectfully, but in terms of ships theyre all the way down at tying for 14th. grimmons makes up 94% of grif and simmons' tags. the next highest ship for grif and simmons after grimmons is simmons/wash at 49th and grif/tucker at 54th. people really dont ship those two with anyone else, huh!

tuckington makes up ~47% of wash's tags and ~73% of tucker's tags. he also only has ~64% of the amount of ships wash does. free my boy tucker he deserves to slut it up.....

andersmith has the largest discrepancy re: number of tags to number of ships, going from 49th to 32nd (+17). other notable differences are simmons going from 3rd to 14th (-11), allison going from 27th to 39th (-12), south going from 16th to 7th (+9), and caboose going from 14th to 6th (+8).

there are 210 M/M ships, 116 M/F, and 43 F/F. M/M has 8253 tags, M/F has 2481, and F/F has 659. the most popular f/f ship is south/ct, coming in at 13th, with kimball/carolina close behind at 14th. the next f/f doesnt come until 45th with carolina/grey. not a very sapphic heavy fandom are we...

this was gathered using this page on ao3 on 8/9/2024. the data i have is based on how many TAGS a ship has, not how many FICS it has. some people tag their fics with the same ship in multiple ways. i dont really have anyway to sort that out with the method i used. is there a better way to get data about ships? maybe! but this was made MOSTLY just because i had so much fun playing with the data and spreadsheets and organizing. im probably gonna keep playing around with the sheet bc i have fun with data but im not sure if im going to add more ships in. maybe like a year from now. i dont really have a good way to clean the data except semi manually so.

[kedsandtubesocks]

you, my golden hour

Rancher!Javier Peña x Cowgirl!Reader

summary: 1997. as a fallen rodeo star, you can handle anything - except maybe your city’s hometown hero

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, Post Season 3 Javi works on his family’s ranch AU, unspecified age gap (only age mention is reader can drink and Javi is older), major pining & yearning, emotional hurt & comfort, light angst with tender fluff, reader has a backstory and family, no physical description of reader but gendered language is used and reader can ride a horse, use of pet/nicknames, mention/description of rodeo accident, themes of dealing with burnout, small texas town toxicity, light Spanish use, reader & javi having insecurities they bond/heal over, bar scene with alcohol consumption, spicy moments with allusions to smut, intense makeout where Javi gets handsy, soft!Javi, dreamy & protective!Javi

word count: 10.2k (I’m sorry)

a/n: the second installment of ‘let’s rodeo’ and my love letter to Javi & Texas, the heart of this series - this fic is near & dear to me and I just appreciate getting the chance to write this, so to @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy & @perotovar for giving me the courage to post this know I’m so grateful… and to you reading this thank you, so dearly appreciate you too ♡

You haven’t thought of Javier Peña in years.

Older than you, he was handsome and had a smile that rivaled the Texas Friday night lights. He eventually hooked up with the number one town sweetheart who was even rumored to have won a local state beauty contest.

By the time you heard of their engagement, you already had started your plans for the circuits, for the road. You didn’t mourn or even feel heartbroken over the news.

Even after that, the rodeo consumed you. It kept you in a tornado like whirl for years until that fateful day it spat you out.

When that ride stopped, Javier Peña came back into your mind with a strange fog-like entrance.

While still on bed rest, the news on the TV had been showing a small special on the War on Drugs and the lull of it filled the room.

Your grandmother was the one who brought him up.

“That’s what Chucho’s son is involved in.”

“Wait, Javier Peña’s into drugs?” You asked a bit confused even without the pain killers.

“No. He’s going after the people who sell drugs.” She clarified.

Oh.

“He also didn’t get married either. Do you remember?” She had added.

You did. You heard he left the little Miss Homecoming Queen at the altar. Quite a scandal that made him the talk of the town for a while.

Then he became a big shot drug enforcer who took down one of the largest drug cartels in history and he again became the talk of the town.

It’s been a few years since your accident and now Javier Peña is back home.

Now driving into the Peña ranch you feel both so young, yet so aged at the same time, like you’re stuck between two realities.

Your sister bounces out of the truck with uncontainable glee and you’re grateful she’s excited.

Chucho Peña comes to greet everyone. His classic cream cowboy hat and gentle smile are all a beautiful welcome. It’s also adorable seeing your grandpa reunite with his old friend.

Señor Peña’s kind eyes eventually land on you with a sweet twinkle.

“It’s good to see you, mija.”

You’ve always adored Chucho Peña.

His son on the other hand…

You never knew Javier enough to fully know him. Even with his dad and your grandpa being pals, the years between you and Javier didn’t help. He existed outside your orbit, a figure almost out of reach.

“And that son of yours!?” Your grandpa of course perks up asking about him.

“Ah sí Javi’s here, just out in the stables.” Chucho explains casually.

The last time you physically saw Javier Peña he was walking out of the bank. You’d been waiting in your family truck when he stepped out. By that point, a small bit of shadow was forming against his jaw and upper lip as his facial hair began to grow thick. He was a young man on the verge of stepping into the threshold of being grown.

Now before you he’s a fully grown man.

For a minute you think the man in the barn is someone else because it doesn’t seem like Javier.

Yet when he turns, you see his eyes.

Rich soil of the earth stunning eyes and you know it’s him.

His body has filled out and his shoulders even look broader. He sports a similar mustache like his father’s and it adds to his older appearance. There’s a weathered weariness on his face evident in the wrinkles carved out by his eyes and on his forehead.

The button up shirt he’s wearing allows a peek at his chest and his skin shines with sweat from the Texas sun already shining its warmth.

He’s breathtakingly stunning and you can’t take your eyes off him.

He warmly greets your grandpa with a wide smile that touches his eyes and brightens his face. He’s still that charming young man you saw, a brilliant comet out of your galaxy.

But then his gaze lands on you and his eyes narrow. A conflicting recognition and confusion swirl in his eyes. He knows you, seems to remember you, but not fully.

His dad clarifies your name and you deflate a bit. Then Javier’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

So, he does remember you.

“Oh, yeah. Good to see you.” He nods fully realizing who you are.

“Guess the horse must be for you then?” Javier adds and your heart sinks a bit.

A grimace tugs on your face but you try recovering quickly.

“No mijo,” Chucho thankfully answers quick and gentle. “I told you, it’s for her hermanita.”

You grin small and tight in agreement.

“Oh…yeah of course.” He nods.

Your little sister immediately jumps in bright and eager to share her excitement. Thankfully the focus effortlessly shifts to her and the reason why you’re all here.

The horse is beautiful, playful and eager for attention. This first meeting already feels good. Of course, everyone holds their breaths when your sister goes for the ride.

And it couldn’t have gone more smoothly.

You even exhale relieved.

“You seemed nervous.” A smooth warm voice comes out besides you.

As you lean against the ring’s fence you discover Javier Peña moving to rest beside you.

“Just like the first day of school kinda nerves. Want to make sure everything goes smoothly.” You answer as your sister effortlessly trots around the ring with ease.

“Yeah, I bet. They already seem to be clicking.” Javier notes genuine and you’re grateful too.

Your grandfather now calls out to you.

Both you and Javier turn towards where the older men stand close to each other like conspiring headaches.

“To celebrate, we’re having dinner here!” Your grandpa cheers happily and a dread drop kicks your heart.

Immediately you stammer out panicked about how you all can’t impose.

“No pasa nada, mija.” Senor Peña gently reassures you saying not to worry. “Besides, you’re all more than welcome here. It’s been a while since Javi and I had guests.”

You don’t miss the unashamed hum Javier makes.

“And grandma?” You reply, trying to reach for more excuses not to stay.

“She can walk.” Your sister teases suddenly and you give her a sharp look.

“Will you go pick her up, please?” Your grandpa gives you his best pleading face before simply throwing the truck keys to you

Stubborn old man.

“Hijo,” Señor Peña calls out again, but this time to his son. “You should go too.”

Shit.

“No Pop, it’s okay!” Javi politely declines and you want to second that.

“Aye,” His dad chides and then he pointedly gives Javier a look that screams - Don’t be rude, go with her.

Damn.

The walk to the truck is quiet, awkward as hell, feels like two parents shoving their kids together to play nice.

Heading into the main part of town, silence fills most of the drive. You're also mentally kicking yourself for not getting the radio fixed last week like you should’ve.

“So uh, your grandma…still volunteering at the women’s shelter?” Until Javier offers a small branch of conversation.

“Yup.” You nod.

“Oh good, that’s good.” He replies.

But silence returns.

“So, you taking a break from the rodeo then? Pop used to tell me about you all the time.” Javier comments light, casual.

You feel like a cat with its hairs standing up. But even with that sensation, knowing Señor Peña spoke so fondly of you does simmer the sting.

“Sort of.” You decide to rip this off like a bandaid, get it over with now. “Had a bad accident a while back. Still haven’t decided if I wanna return.”

It’s been two years since you’ve been home.

“Oh…” Javier’s voice drops, the same way everyone does when you tell them.

“I’m sorry.” Except you’re surprise at how sincerely soft his voice is. “I thought I heard something about it. I should’ve fucking remembered… Sorry.”

He apologizes again, surprising you once more as genuine repentance floats off his voice.

You thank him understandingly. After all, it's one of the better responses you’ve been given. But you don’t want to dig into this, especially with him, so you quickly change the conversation.

“So how long are you here for? I’m sure there must be other drug cartels waiting for you to take them down.” You offer casual.

Not only had he taken down Pablo Escobar a while back, you briefly heard of his very recent grand move against the other cartel in Columbia.

He’s impressive, the town’s hero and golden boy.

“Uh actually, I’m retired. Gonna take a step back for a bit.” Javier answers just as polite and calm as you had answered him.

Oh. You hadn’t heard that. Or maybe you did and forgot.

You now feel like the foolish one and genuinely congratulate him.

“It takes a lot to decide when to step away. Besides, you deserve a break after all you did.” You mean those words.

After all, they were the same comforting words his father told you when you came back home.

A pause fills the truck and you worry you’ve maybe overstepped.

“I…yeah.” Javier breathes out. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

Your heart flutters at how small and genuine he sounds.

“So…how about them Dallas Cowboys, huh?” Javier offers light and for some reason you laugh.

It’s not much, but it feels like a lifeline.

When you arrive to pick up your grandmother she gasps so giddy when she sees the surprise guest with you. Her excitement lights up the drive while she talks about her day taking full advantage of having Javier listening to her.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re back home safe Javi!” She gushes and then says your name.

You’re already panicking.

“With so many of your friends living out of town, maybe you’ll get to spend more time back in the city with Javier!?” She offers to you brightly and absolute horror seizes your heart.

Shooting a petrified face at her you silently plead for this discussion to die.

Javier in the back seat weakly laughs. Because of course Javier, ever the gentleman, had your grams sitting up front.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” Your grandma playfully teases back at you. “At least go rent a movie with him.”

The thought crosses your mind about turning around and dropping her back off.

“Did you know,” Javier innocently jumps in. “The first ever blockbuster was opened in Dallas?”

Your grandma coos in awe as if he’s just explained a miracle.

“See! Now you have to go with him to one!” She urges.

A horrified indignant noise escapes you. While behind you, Javier snickers even more and you’re tempted to drop him off on the side of the road to let the coyotes feast on him.

The minute you arrive at the Peña’s home you can’t get out of the truck fast enough.

Dinner fortunately goes smooth and you’re surprised at how eased the rest of the time unfolds. You do hate how many times your eyes flicker towards Javier like if you’re still trying to soak him in.

Then, from across the table, Javier’s gaze flickers to you fast catching you staring red handed. Your heart transforms into a jackrabbit, petrified and thumping fast, almost making you flee right then and there.

Until your grandpa addresses you. His warm eyes dance with a surprise in his gaze.

“We’ve decided to have some of your sister's training here.”

Your heart now skips over itself.

Your gramps and sister both explain the plan hatched while you were on the road. In order to get used to competing in different spaces, your sister decided to train here at the Peña’s.

You’re hesitant, but understand the logic. You’re even impressed. But you can’t pinpoint why you’re so nervous about this.

Señor Peña now calls to you, sensing your hesitation, and tenderly grins.

“Don’t worry mija,” his kind eyes crinkle with understanding. “It’s no trouble at all.”

His reassurance is grace and you smile back relieved while thanking him deeply.

“Seems like you’re the boss here.” Javier suddenly joins in with a casual tone and you freeze.

“Well yeah, that’s my coach you’re talking to.” Your sister proudly declares.

“Coach?” Javier’s voice perks up curious.

“Yeah.” You answer with a small smile. “That’s me.”

“Been barking orders at me all these years so why not put her in charge.” Your sister innocently adds and in pure sobbing annoyance you want to shove her face into her plate.

Thankfully everyone laughs, illuminating the room.

But you’re faced with a new reality. You’re going to be here more, seeing Javier Peña more.

And you don’t know how you feel about that yet.

-

The Peña ranch in the morning sits tranquil and the peace gives you the focus on training.

You’re surprised at how good your sister and the mare already bond. You explain a few drills and have your sister run a few repetitions of them.

“You sound like a tough one.” Javier’s voice surprises you and you almost jump over the fence.

Glancing back, he approaches you with two thermoses.

“Pop and I thought you might need an extra pick me up.” He offers and you can’t help but greedily grab at it.

“Tell your dad thanks and that he’s a saint.”

Javier snorts at your reply.

Now your focus returns to your sister. You recommend a type of turning drill vividly remember doing yourself. Your sister playfully salutes you and begins.

“How she looking, coach?” Him calling you ‘coach’ draws a dangerous electricity that snaps up your spine.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dryly tell him trying to keep yourself composed.

“Well isn’t that what you are?” He teases casually.

Your face scrunches up annoyed while his eyes crinkle amused.

“Don’t you have things to do, Javier Peña?” You sigh, already exhausted of this man.

“Javi…you can just call me Javi, coach.”

You’re tempted to childishly scoot away from him. Younger you would have never imagined he was this annoying.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dully repeat.

“Okay, coach.”

Now you contemplate just shoving him away.

But all the annoyance washes away when commotion hits. The horse makes a disgruntled whinny and immediately both you and Javier whip your attention towards the ring. Your sister calmly stays on the saddle, gently soothing down her companion.

After asking if she’s good, her eased thumbs up reassures you. She does a few trots to calm everyone down. You even exhale relieved.

“You lost in thought?” Javier comments.

“Yeah.” You answer him with a mutter. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You almost don’t tell him. But you surprise yourself and do.

You explain the type of pace that comes with training in barrel racing. There’s a pattern and method to it all. You don’t realize you’ve rambled until you blink and realize Javier stares so directly at you. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if he’s focused hard listening to your words.

Embarrassed, you’re about to stammer out an apology when Javier whistles low.

“You know your fucking shit.” He nods appreciatively and hearing his pride ignites something dangerous in your chest.

Another surprise sharp whistle comes. Out from the barn, a further ways away, Chucho stands staring out. He even waves at you and you wave back.

“You gonna work today, hijo?” He calls out.

Javier curses under his breath.

“Busted.” You joke and now he’s the one side eying you.

“Please you’re the one slacking off here!” Your baby sister suddenly complains loud and cheeky “You’re not getting paid by the hour, coach!”

“Guess we’re both in trouble.” Javier snickers.

You roll your eyes but quickly sneer at your smiling sister.

“Alright then. See ya later…bandita.” Javier already walks away by the time you hear his goodbye.

But it hits you.

He thankfully stopped calling you coach. But now, what replaced it…

Little Bandit.

The nickname rips through you with a barbed fierceness you’re not prepared for.

The rest of the month follows this same routine.

On training days Javier shows up with something for you to drink. Once he even came with a few goods from the bakery across town.

No matter what, he watches practice with you for as long as he can before getting called back to the ranch.

During these moments together, he asks about how the turns are made or why you correct your sister when you do. It’s friendly. You actually start enjoying his company especially when your grandfather so eagerly leaves to hang out with Chucho instead.

The greetings and thanks are always the same.

“Thanks, Peña.”

“Javi,” he patiently corrects you everytime.

You can’t bring yourself to call him that just yet.

At the start of the new month everyone sleeps in and arrives later to the Peña’s ranch.

This time you’ve brought more barrels. Thankfully you can move them with the help of your sister. Suddenly besides you, boots clamor onto the truck and rapidly you snap your attention to the source of the sound.

Javier Peña smoothly climbs up to help you with the rest of the barrels.

He’s in a striking soft purple button up shirt. Sweat already shines against his bare arms. Thick worn in working gloves cover his hands. His hair seems a bit curlier today and he wears aviator sunglasses that suit his face.

Effortlessly Javier grabs onto one and lifts it by himself.

You’re stunned. Even your sister stops and stares just as surprised.

Javier is strong. Doesn’t seem like the muscular type but he’s built and radiates a type of seasoned strength of a well grown man, a rancher man.

His arms firmly hold the barrel, sturdy and toned, and you can’t look away.

“Where d’ya want me to put it?” Javier yells and you trip out of your thoughts to dumbly point where the barrel needs to be placed.

Your grandfather whistles proudly seeing Javier.

“If this rancher thing doesn’t work out for you Jav, you got the makings of a fine rodeo man.” Your grandpa teases.

Javier chuckles, with his eyes averted a bit bashful.

“Could add him to the team.” Your grandpa notes with a twinkling gleam of something mischievous.

You reply a dry no as you move to get off the truck.

In a flash, Javier jogs over and immediately reaches his hand out to help you get down. Placing your hand in his, Javier helps you down and you thank him.

He’s wearing gloves. This shouldn’t feel so significant. Yet the way he firmly holds your hand makes your heart sprout wings.

Even back on the solid dirt ground your legs don’t feel as if they’re under you.

Javier doesn’t stick around after that and you’re allowed to focus.

It’s later in the day, later than the usual practice times, and the Texas sun beats down with a fierceness. You call for more water breaks to keep everyone hydrated.

During a break, a rustling catches your attention. There towards the barn, Javi moves in and around the place.

You just catch the smallest glimpse of him with a hammer in his hand as he heads into the smaller enclosure. Curiosity gets the best of you.

Grabbing another water bottle you justify it as wanting to be polite, but curiosity gnaws at you.

The clang of hammering approaches louder and louder until you spot him in a goat pen. He hammers in a reinforced slab, probably fixing a hole. His back to you allows a glorious full sight of his broad shoulders at work.

He even switches to a drill and watching him casually use power tools, you never thought you’d find this so attractive.

One of the goats nearby makes a blep of a noise at your appearance and you almost want to shush them.

Javier glances over his shoulders spotting you.

“Hey there, bandita. Qué pasó?” he nods at you as the nickname flares up your heart.

“Just…knew how hot it was getting and gramps told me just to check up on you.” You lie waving the water bottle.

Javier turns to face you and you’re greeted with the sight of his full sweaty glory. You should be turned off seeing how bad his shirt sticks to him, how he smells of hay and dirt, but it’s incredibly hot.

The hard work of his day evident on every inch of him brews a dark cloud of desire in you.

“Oh well, tell your gramps thanks.” He replies snagging the water bottle from you.

His plus lips, the glorious sight of his thick slick neck, and the movement of the sweat just covering him as he drinks from the water bottle…

Getting this weak over the sight of him just drinking a water bottler you now think is the lowest you can go. You wonder about walking down by the river nearby and just jumping in to cool down.

From a distance, your sister yells out for you.

“Duty calls.” Javier smirks. With a sheepish smile you shrug then wave a quick goodbye.

You practically run out of that barn like a fleeing field mouse.

Later that night, alone in your room, your fingers slip under your sheets to slide under your sleep shorts. You imagine licking the sweat off Javier’s neck, picture his thick strong fingers, that fix up barns, hoist up barrels, and wonder how thick they would feel inside you.

You fall into desire’s blissful sticky release.

When you shower the next morning, you rationalize that those thoughts of Javier simply come from needing to scratch an itch.

Besides, you couldn’t get tangled with Javier. He’s older. He’s Laredo’s golden boy. He doesn’t go after broken cowgirls like you.

In the shower you turn the heat up more. A part of you hopes it will scorch off the building desire in your heart.

-

The morning is muggy, a soupy cloudy early day begging you to curl back into bed. Soft chirping echoes of the mockingbirds fill the air. You opted for earlier practices this week so your sister could prepare for a trip with her friends coming up. You agreed, wanting her to still enjoy moments outside of this.

“You out here all alone, bandita?” Javier.

He breaks the morning’s stillness. Holding his routine two drinks, he approaches you bundled up in a nice jacket that flatters him.

Thanking him, you greedily grab the drink and savor its warmth.

You explain that your sister is free roaming around the ranch this morning and it’s why you’re all alone. You stare at the empty riding area where the dirt sits holy and untouched.

“Do you miss it?” Javier asks. His voice is quietly probing, gentle as the morning mist.

That question holds a million answers all tied up in a messy knot.

“Sometimes.” You answer truthfully because you did. You missed the adrenaline, the wind blowing past you, speeding around a barrel so fast it was like you were out running the wind.

“Can I ask…” Javier and his soft, kind voice presses on. “What happened?”

Might as well. You’re now sort of friends with Javier even though the word feels sticky in your heart.

“You know that saying about how you just gotta get back on the horse? Well it's easier said than done.” You mutter.

It happened during a ride in Arizona. You’ve fallen and wrecked before. But this one just felt different. You took a barrel close and then everything slipped away. You remember being on the saddle, remember feeling your body float. Then the world went dark.

You woke up to a nasty concussion, a broken arm, and a couple of rowdy scrapes. You don’t remember your foot getting caught in the stirrup, but that’s what had happened.

“Holy fuck...” Javier breathes out, the weight of your words hang in his. “Shit I’m sorry.”

You thank him earnestly and reassure him it’s fine, just unfortunate shit like that happens. Everyone knew how dangerous the sport could get. The rodeo was a rough ride and every cowboy knew that.

But for you, you just couldn’t shake it off.

“I’m glad you made it out.” Sincerity blooms in his voice and your lips tug grateful at how considerate he is as you thank him again.

“You haven’t gone back?” Now he dances on a tight line.

“Nope. I tried after getting the clearance from the doctors but… it just didn’t go well.” You truthfully tell him.

You didn’t want to ride anymore, didn’t want to face everyone or the pressure of the race or the terror swallowing you whole. It felt as if you were burnt dry and exhausted from the inside out.

Your grandma gently embraced you and held you for what felt like hours.

“Then don’t go. You don’t have to do anything that makes you this worried and sick. Nothing is worth you being this scared, not even the damn rodeo.” She told you tenderly and with the most profoundly kind smile. You cried out of relief.

“It’s brave,” Javier says so firmly understanding. “Making a decision like that is really fucking brave, hard as fuck too.”

You gently grin and thank him again while blinking away a few tears.

“Same goes for you too.” You tell him.

From your gramps, who had gotten the full story from Chucho, you learned more about what happened with Javier and his final days in Columbia.

“I don’t know much but, what you did was brave too.” Your voice comes out softer than you expected.

He barks a laugh now. It’s dry, bitter, and can catch fire.

“Doesn't feel like it.”

You understand maybe more than he even knows. So you think about maybe what you would’ve told yourself.

“You did what was right.” You begin. “Everyone else might judge you or say shit but it doesn't matter. You’re not meant to please everyone or do what everyone expects you to do. And if that’s seen as a bad thing then…I don’t know, fuck them and fuck that.”

You say it so simply Javier busts out laughing. It’s a true blue laugh, so sweet it crinkles his beautiful dirt road eyes.

You’ve never seen him laugh like this before. And he’s beautiful.

You join in snickering as well but try to ignore the butterflies suddenly nesting in your stomach.

He’s really such a dream. A carved out Texas man so seasoned from the world, yet he still stays so kind and devoted to his family.

You get why many in the town, especially the girls during your time in high school, are all over him. Now you’re afraid you might’ve fallen into the same pit traps they did.

You’re falling under the spell of Javier Peña.

“So you’re really not going back to catching drug dealers and what not?” You ask when the laughter settles.

“I could’ve.” Javi answers. “Damn DEA would’ve taken me back. But…I just couldn’t see a future with it anymore.”

“And now here I am.” He says with a boyish soft grin.

“Now here you are”. You repeat with a nod.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” You truthfully tell him. You knew his dad worried about him. But the quiet truth is that you’re grateful for this time getting to know him now.

His eyes soften and your heat bursts.

“Thanks, glad I’m here. Glad you’re here too, bandita.” Then he softly nudges you. It’s playfully, friendly but it’s his words that almost take you out by the knees.

“Anyway, the government’s dumb. They don't deserve you.” You nod and Javier snorts amused.

“Guess I should listen to a cowgirl like you.” He teases.

You shrug. “Some people say I’m not one anymore.”

Especially because you didn’t ride anymore.

“Fuck them and fuck that.” He repeats your words and your lips twitch with a bubbling giggle.

Right now, it feels like you and him are two lonely birds sitting on a wire. Yet there’s something comforting about it, knowing it’s with him.

Then it dawns on you. You enjoy spending time with him. You know there’s desire already trickling in for him. But now he’s becoming someone precious to you.

You can’t even deny that anymore.

“Thanks, Javi.”

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows shoot up high.

Thunder roars suddenly clashing into the air interrupting the moment.

The dark clouds now loom on the horizon and coat the morning in an impending murkiness.

“Guess a storm’s coming in.” Javi mumbles.

Thankfully your sister rides back in quick and Javi decides to do some final things around the ranch before the storm rolls in. Before the rain comes, you and your sister pack up quickly. But it’s too late.

The rain pours down in a blink, almost like a hole in the sky popped to let a faucet drain out. The wind even picks up dangerously quick. It’s chaotic trying to wrangle the hose back to the stables but you and your sister manage.

“Come inside!” Gramps yells from the Peña’s porch and you and your sister scurry to the shaded sanctuary.

“You coming in?” Your sister asks while drying herself off with a towel. You don’t move from your spot by the steps.

“I’ll be in a bit.” You reassure her. She glares suspiciously and you shoo her away.

Javi hasn’t come back yet.

Noises clang out from the barn. A poisonous worry erupts through you and immediately you rush back out into the rain.

Inside the barn Javi tries yanking up a barn ladder that’s fallen over. It’s sturdy, wooden, and stuck in a hard position.

You move to help. Without any words or having to explain anything you both, as a team, work to yank the ladder out. Patiently and slowly the ladder gets moved to a spot the wind won’t knock it over.

The rush of it all has you breathing heavy.

“Thanks bandita.”

You breathlessly laugh and turn to maybe make a joke about now becoming a ranch hand and stealing his job. But all words, all thoughts, die instantly.

Having to work together to push the ladder, you now notice how close you are to him.

The sight of Javi soaked to the bone from the rain is corruptible. His clothes stick to him showing off his thick frame and shoulders. His drenched hair now seems darker with the curls more pounced.

He’s also heavily breathing too.

Now his lips, how soft and wet they look, have you hypnotized.

The pattering rain pours down hard on the roof, the only noise in the barn. You notice a shift in Javier. His eyes ever so slightly soften, almost hazing over. You might just be imaging it, but his face gradually seems to lean closer. Or maybe, you’re the one leaning towards him.

You’re possessed with an ache to kiss him, to see how the rain tastes on his lips.

It’s just you and him, soaked to the bone. You probably look like a drenched mess of a creature, but you’ve never wanted someone this much.

“Aye!”

Chucho suddenly shouts out from outside the barn and your heart stops.

Like a skittish roadrunner, you scramble away fast from Javier and just in time. His dad walks in from the other side of the barn holding an umbrella with an extra in his hand.

“You kids okay?” He calls out.

Both you and Javi yell back, quickly moving towards the elder Peña.

“You two look like a couple of soaked barn cats.” Chucho teases.

You weakly laugh and thank him for the umbrella.

Javi grumbles at his dad while he grabs the umbrella to open it up. Ever chivalrous, Javier holds it above you and him. Yet the entire walk to the house is quiet.

Fuck. Did you ruin this tentative whatever was forming between you and him? Or were you just imagining things?

You stay quiet the rest of the time waiting out the storm.

“You okay?” Your sister, keen as always, notices.

You lie with a smile saying the weather’s getting to you. When in reality, it’s a man that has.

Because you can’t stop thinking about Javier Peña now.

-

The rain stays for the rest of the week and everyone takes the schedule changes with stride. Your sister even heads out earlier on her trip earlier during a lighter drizzle.

By Saturday night the storm settles down.

Your closest friend from high school, now back in town for the month, even calls your home phone begging you to take advantage of the better weather.

“Look, before I go back to Florida let’s enjoy a nice night out, yeah? Maybe play some pool?” She pleads.

It’s how you now find yourself at the bar. You haven’t gotten dressed up in a while and you’re reminded of how nice it feels.

As much as you jokingly fussed about going out, being with your best friend laughing at the bar is lovely.

Ricky, one of the bartenders, actually was in the same grade as you two and it’s nice reminiscing, snickering over a nice drink.

“So how’s it been hanging out with Mr. Hero of the town himself?” Your friend smirks.

You make an unamused face at her while Ricky perks up.

“Wait, who are you hanging out with?” He whispers excitedly.

“Javier Peña.” Excitedly, she spills and you roll your eyes when Ricky gasps.

“You’ve fallen for the guy half the county is in love with!?” He hisses. You hate it, but it’s true and tastes soberly cold.

“Okay but practically all of our class was and maybe still is in love with him.” Your best friend adds.

“Well y’all do remember, he left Lorraine Wilson at the altar right?” Ricky reminds everyone and your mouth turns acidic.

“Oh fuck you’re right.” Your friend whispers.

“Might be bad news.” Ricky tensely tells you.

You want to hiss that he’s not like that. He’s kind, a bit annoying, but with a good heart.

“Shit, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ricky says in a low awed tone.

Worried you whip around to see what caught his attention. Absolute horror drowns you.

Javi and another man step into the bar and you want to run.

Your best friend squeals excited beside you, but you can’t comprehend what she says. Javier has stolen your attention.

Ricky called him the devil and he does seem like an angel dipped in temptation.

The sleek blazer he wears is dressed down by his nice button up shirt and jeans. His hair is styled nice, seeming so soft and begging for someone’s fingers to run through it. A buzz swarms in your head seeing him outside the ranch looking this gorgeous.

That’s when he spots you. For a split moment you two see each other. His eyes widen and before anyone can react you whip back towards the bar.

“Looks like you’re about to fall outta your seat.” Ricky snickers and you death glare at him.

“Okay,” your friend nudges you. “The guy he’s with, I think that’s David Martinez. He was in Peña’s class right? He’s so hot now, what the fuck?” She breathes out.

You almost toast to that because you felt the same about Javier.

So you keep your head down, enjoy your drink and maybe wonder about suggesting that game of pool your best friend advertised.

“Would you two beauties be alright with a bit of company?” A sweet male voice comes out and immediately draws the attention to him.

Behind you stands Javier Peña and his friend.

David has always been kind to your family and his mom even worked with your grandma at the shelter. You appreciate that Javi still hangs out with him.

“Yes of course. We’d love some company, right?” Your friend brightly asks you and you smile polite.

Your heart however rages like it’s a wild bucking bronco trying to break free.

The guys buy a round of drinks. Everyone laughs reminiscing about that one famous senior prank where the class managed to get two cows into the school.

The atmosphere is friendly, light. But your eyes constantly flicker nervously to Javi. You can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop thinking about him. Now here he is a Texas dream, or maybe your nightmare.

You turn back to take another sip and in that shift, your best friend turns to direct all her attention to David who moves to sit beside her.

But now Javier smoothly slides into the barstool next to you.

“Nice to see you outside the ranch.” His voice comes out smooth and rich.

You agree. But the air turns awkward, as if neither of you know how to tackle this new situation.

Suddenly heels clicking fast arrive. Standing to the side is a girl you recognize from your sister’s class that just graduated high school.

“Hi,” she smiles, staring at Javi with obvious hearts in her eyes.

He politely but cautiously greets her back.

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to maybe dance with me?” She’s bold. You can at least appreciate that.

“My friends all dared me to ask you since it’s, ya know, you.” She gushes and giggles.

“Uh, appreciate the thought but I’ll have to pass, sorry.” He turns her down gently.

As if she finally realizes you even existed her eyes blink to you.

“Oh hey!” She recognizes you as an older sister to one of her classmates. And then for something else.

“Yeah didn’t you like, used to be a rodeo cowgirl or something and then something happened so now you’re not doing anything anymore?”

She’s being underlyingly mean. Her misleading chipper tone, vapid smile, are all soaked in venom meant to shake you or even scare Javi away from you.

But you’re used to it by now. You’re about to comment how she shouldn’t even be here.

Javier however speaks first and fast.

“Hey,” Javier’s voice jumps shockingly sharply, almost reprimanding. Your eyes go wide at how fast he reacts. He even glares at the girl.

Besides you, your best friend immediately turns around.

“Oh hey!” She greets the young newcomer. “Weren’t you that girl caught buying weed only for the cops to figure out you were actually buying oregano?”

Her cheerful tone makes you bust out a snort because yeah, she’s right.

The girl’s face falls absolutely mortified.

“Now get the fuck out of here.” Your dear friend finishes sweet but the undercurrent of her voice looms threatening. The disgraced girl rushes away before she can even reply.

You wheeze into your hand and fondly lean against your dearest sweet friend.

“If she or any of her little punk ass friends try anything again, I’ll shove my heel so far up their asses.” She reassures.

“Don’t worry,” Ricky now jumps in. “I’m definitely telling our bouncer those little shits managed to sneak in.”

Gratitude carves out an ocean in you and you’re thankful for those who understand.

David whistles appreciatively and your friend, with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, returns to her discussion with him.

You feel Javier’s eyes burning on you.

“Does shit like that happen often?” His concerned and low voice floats out among the music.

You shrug.

“Back when I first came back it did, but it's dying down.”

You were supposed to be a big rodeo star. You even had an official big name brand sponsorship lined up. But, after the accident, not returning to the rodeo painted you a failure in the eyes of the town.

Especially compared to its bright shining star you sit beside.

Suddenly a warmth slides over your hand resting on the bar. Javier squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters deeply sad. “S’fucking awful.”

You thank him, even make a dry joke about small town bullshit which earns you a small dry chuckle.

“The shit I got after Lorraine…” he sighs and now you find his hand doesn’t leave yours. You don’t want it to.

“I get it. Shit’s brutal.” He finishes, a steeled hardness lingering in his tone.

Now your hand squeezes his.

His eyes, gleaming tiger’s eyes gemstones, flicker up to you and you smile softly.

Javi’s hand feels so lovely. It's rough, a bit callous but cozy. Just like him.

“Hey!” Your best friend suddenly cheers. “Let’s dance!”

She interrupts the moment but you can’t blame her. A hesitant scrunched up reaction tugs at your face though.

“It’s a slow dance.” You waver.

“That’s the best kind! Come on!” She urges and you spot her hand already intertwining with the guy’s.

“You go,” you urge with a beaming grin. “I wanna finish my drink.”

“Aw, come on now bandita,” now Javi slides off his seat.

Standing up straight, he extends his hand out to you.

“You gotta at least get one dance in.” He smirks.

It’s just one dance and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to dance with him. That thought alone outweighs the hesitation. Placing your hand in his, Javier leads you out to the dance floor.

Javi maintains a polite distance from you. Yet the faintest scent of his cologne floats off him, a siren’s song pure of temptation. His hand keeps yours in its protective hold while he gently guides you to the beat of the music.

Being this close to him clouds your focus in a tantalizing haze begging you to get lost in. But you can’t. You can’t even stare into his eyes. So your focus flickers out to the rest of the bar.

David and your best friend dance close, already getting cozy with each other. Then your eyes move to the door.

The bar’s bouncer sternly starts throwing the three girls out and the one you recognize stares at you with disgusted hatred.

You snort.

“What?” Javi mutters, his voice silky against the low music.

You nudge your head towards the bar’s entrance and Javi follows your gaze.

“Oh hey.” He comments, noticing the scene.

“Good riddance. Poor girl must be pissed seeing you dance with someone me though.” You mutter a bit gleeful at the thought.

“Wait, what?” Javi sounds insulted.

“Uh yeah,” you reply, confused. “I mean, it’s kinda funny. You’re Mr. hometown hero here with the town’s nobody.”

“No.” Javier snaps fast. “Anyone who says or believes that’s a pinché cabrón.”

They’re a fucking asshole and the way he speaks with a conviction refuses to allow any doubt to refute him.

“And besides…I’m not a hero.” That’s when Javi’s voice drops, transforming into a whisper tangled among the slow country ballad playing.

“I’m not that golden bullshit guy everyone thinks I am.” His voice contains a stinging rawness you recognize.

Now you’re the one snapping back at him.

“Yeah you are. You’re good, Javi.” You begin firm.

“You’re noble and kind. Brave.” The words flow from your heart and you don’t even stop them. “You’ve worked hard to help people. I’m sure there’s shit you regret and you might not think you’re good because of it, but you are.”

He stays silent. Only the tune of the slow jam settles between you and him. You’re worried you’ve maybe said something to upset him.

Then Javier exhales your name and it has never sounded so tender.

Your throat tightens and when you finally look at him, you’re greeted by a galaxy.

The lights of the bar dance in his dark road eyes that stare directly at you as if the rest of the bar has melted away. Javi’s hand gingerly against your back now slides down gently. In that same motion, he slowly begins drawing you to him.

You don’t resist and catch his eyes flickering to your lips.

A sudden clamoring collision erupts and startled, you clutch onto Javi.

The cause of the commotion is a man who tripped into some chairs. He effortlessly laughs it off. The group he’s with helps him up and you’re thankful it’s not a bar fight.

You sigh relaxed.

That’s when you notice Javier shifted to draw you closer to him. In an almost protective hold, he has you now close against his broad chest. His cologne smells divine, makes your mouth water.

Like a bolt of electricity striking you, you’re galvanized and scramble immediately out of his hold.

“Wait, bandita, what’s wrong? You okay?” He’s so concerned and you dare not look at him.

“Just need some air.” You reply moving away from Javi towards the door leading to the small patio outside.

Your best friend swiftly rushes to you.

“Hey, you okay?!”

You rapidly reassure her that you’re fine and just need air. You even joke about not being able to handle your drinks anymore.

“That fucker didn’t try anything, right?” She asks low and deadly.

You shake your head and squeeze her hand. It’s enough for her to let you leave. Your body operates on autopilot until you stumble into the night air.

It feels like you’re resurfacing. You move to lean against the railing and simply gather yourself.

You feel possessed again needing to kiss him.

And it’s not just that. You want all of him all the time now and it’s infesting you. You’re barely keeping your head above water or maybe you’re this far gone under the waves.

For a moment you think it might be drizzling again. Until you blink and realize the water against your eyes are tears threatening to spill.

You’re so afraid of how badly you want Javier, and how badly it might shatter right before your eyes.

Someone says your name cautiously.

Embarrassed, you turn towards the door.

Javi stands a few steps away from you. His handsome face crumbles instantly seeing you. Quickly he rushes to your side, as if on instinct wanting to help, until he stops.

“Bandita, are you okay!? Fuck… did I do this?” He stammers out worried.

“Did I overstep?” His voice is wrecked. He’s so apologetic already.

You shake your head trying to pathetically dab away the tears. Unable to look at Javier, your attention stays on the dark stretch of parking lot.

“I promise it’s not you. It’s me.” Maybe it will always just be you.

“Querida…”

Darling…he’s never called you that.

“Whatever it is, please let me help.” His voice pleads unbearably tender and you want to cry even more.

He really is so good, too good.

“I just…I just can’t take it...” you begin with a watery cough.

You finally look at him. The furrowed brows, his worried soaked eyes, concern paints him so young. You’re reminded of the young man you saw walking out of a bank all those years ago and how a piece of him stands before you now.

“I like you so much Javi.” Through the heartache, you finally admit it out loud. “Maybe even more than I wanna admit and I don't know if I can’t keep fighting it.”

His face scrunches up and his eyes rapidly scan over you.

“Fight it?” He mutters out. “Why fight it?”

Now you stare at him a bit confused. You have nothing to lose now. So you hold your heart out to him. You reveal it all…the fears and worries sprouting in your heart like uncomfortably cacti about how he deserves someone just as refined and established as him, that he'll eventually get bored of someone like you.

All your words come out hollow, especially thinking about how he can have anyone he wants.

Javier, suddenly in the middle of your ramble, interrupts, upset, snapping your name fiercely that any other words you want to say vanish.

“You’re the only one in this town who actually understands, who maybe even really fucking sees me.” He growls.

Your heart even jumps hearing how determined and raised his voice got.

“You…” Javi now chokes out and suddenly runs a hand over his face. Then his hands go to his hips. His eyes fall to the floor as if he’s taking a moment to gather himself.

“Fuck… you don’t even know what you do to me, how much you fucking mean to me.” Javier breathes and the words get caught in your ribs.

“Whenever you’re not around I can’t stand it. I just wanna be with you….all the damn time.” He coughs out as if he can’t even believe his words.

Those earth pool eyes of his flicker to you.

Under the watch of the clouded Texas deep night sky, it’s just you and him.

You don't know who moves first. Instead it feels like two magnets finally flinging together so fast the collision knocks you awake.

Because in a blink Javi’s hand holds face while his other yanks at your hips. Then he kisses you.

It’s all encompassing.

Immediately your hands scramble to claw at him, begging to get him as close as possible.

His mustache scrapes beautifully against your lips. You taste the beer lingering on his tongue and he’s divine. The wall of the bar suddenly hits your back.

Now you’re flush against him, fully pinned under all of Javier, and you moan. His tongue with hungered finesse licks into your mouth. One hand stays firmly holding your face while his other runs across your body trying to map you out.

His hips rut against yours and you go dizzy with aching raw need.

“Mi pretty bebita, so good to me.” He whispers out thick and heavy. You whine wanting him more, wanting him inside you every way possible. Everything feels molten.

Javi playfully bites your bottom lip and your knees almost buckle. Your mind simply chants for him.

A clash of teeth, a burning heat devours you while you chase every taste of Javier that he gives. It’s an unleashing of something raw and aching, as if finally you can breathe against him while something inside you whispers yes, yes you and I are here and you don’t want to ever leave.

A sudden droplet plops onto your head. You ignore it especially when your tongue swipes against Javi’s and he groans out the most heavenly noise.

A few more large obvious water drops come.

You and Javi freeze, halting mid make out like a paused VHS tape.

Then the rain arrives.

“Shit!” Javi coughs out immediately pulling away. He quickly shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over you, a makeshift umbrella.

Filled by the most buoyant bliss, you laugh.

Javier snorts, shaking his head but he must sense it too, all of it amongst the rain.

And it’s beautiful.

-

“I’m surprised you don’t wear this as much.” Javier comments as he picks up your Stetson cowboy hat.

He’s shirtless, only wearing his jeans. You’re treated to his bare broad shoulders and wonderfully sweet ass in his jeans. It’s an utterly devastating combo.

Sitting on your bed waiting to settle in for the night with him, you shrug.

You didn’t expect him to be so curious and constantly snooping around anytime he’s in your bedroom. Then again, you still can’t believe he’s even in your bedroom.

Sneaking away that the first weekend after the bar didn’t last long though.

Your grandma caught him a few Sunday mornings later trying to sneak out and she ran to you screaming excitedly when she could start planning the wedding. You still haven’t recovered from that.

Even with the blessings from both sides, including Chucho and your gramps, you still wanted to just enjoy being with Javi in these intimate carved out spaces.

His presence already is crystallizing here. His wallet and packs of nicotine gum clutter the night stand. His extra pair of sunglasses sit beside yours on the dresser. His faded worn Texas A&M University t-shirt is tossed by the bed and his boots are by the door. You treasure it all.

Javi, now standing in front of you, places the cowboy hat on top of your head.

The familiar presence of wearing it is like greeting an old friend. You bashfully grin at your handsome rancher. Javier’s eyes gloss over you, taking in the sight. His hand moves to tenderly hold your face.

“You look good, like a true damn cowgirl.” He mutters and your heart flutters against its cage.

“Know you can ride like one now too,” his voice dips with a magnetic undertone as his words hold the heavily sexual double meaning.

You playfully smack his shoulder and he smirks.

“I’m still surprised you don’t call me cowgirl instead of bandita.” You note gently.

“Do you mind that I call you that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up curiously.

No, you didn’t mind at all. You were just curious and you even tell him that.

Javi snorts and his thumb now strokes your cheek.

“The way Pop used to talk about you and how you’d race made you sound like some wild bandit trying to outrun outlaws or something.”

You snort now and your fondness for Chucho Peña triples.

“And then,” Javier continues. “When I met you, I knew I was fucked.”

Now your face scrunches up confused and you ask why. A small charming grin tugs his lips.

“Cause the minute I saw you glaring at me in the barn you stole every fucking inch of me.”

Javi’s thumb now moves to run over your lip and desire bubbles in you. You kiss his thumb, delicate and reverent.

“My pretty little bandit.” His voice is low, a fond rumble in his chest that you want to drown in as much as you can.

You think of all the awards you’ve won, the tournaments you’ve faced. Yet they all seem to fall so short to those words, to this man you so endlessly adore.

In your cowboy hat, you yank Javi close and kiss him. Quickly you and him both tumble into your bed sheets, melting against each other in pure bliss.

In the afterglow, you snatch up the cowboy hat again and now place it on Javi’s head. Your gruff rancher's face twists into a grumpy frown and you grin giddy.

“You look good, a classic Texas man.” You compliment him, almost mirroring the words he told you.

His face scrunches up more.

“Always thought I looked stupid wearing these.” He huffs taking off the Stetson.

“Everybody looks good in a cowboy hat.” You reply truthfully and place the hat back on him.

“Especially you.” You add letting your hand slide across his bare chest. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, your cowboy hat, flickers to life the simmering heat from earlier. He’s already so beautiful and now a cowboy hat on, shirtless, with the dimming post sex glow radiating from him, he’s personified sin.

“Cowboy hat doing it for ya, huh?” Javi’s little cocky smirk has you glaring playfully at him.

“Shut up.” You huff but then swiftly kiss him. Soon enough you become one again with the man taking root in your heart.

Early the next morning, when he thinks you’re asleep, Javier’s fingertips trace over your face with butterfly wing delicateness.

“So fuckin’ crazy about you, baby.” He whispers to your unknowing sleeping form. You feel your heart blossom, a morning bloom wanting to keep him tangled in your soul for as long as he’ll stay.

You think again of two lonely birds on the wire, maybe not so lonely anymore.

With a soft kiss goodbye against your forehead Javi heads out and you soak molten in his words.

You end up not seeing him for a few days. Over the phone he explains, annoyed, of having to run around trying to find a specific fence wire and how it’s kept him away.

Even with how much you miss him, it does allow you space.

Earlier this month, you decided on a new training schedule. Each week would alternate between practice at the Peña’s ranch and yours.

Currently practice is at your family’s ranch.

“Next time you talk to that boyfriend of yours, tell him to get tacos from that place he got us lunch from last time.” Your sister yells as she finishes up a few drills around the ring.

You roll your eyes. “He isn’t a food delivery service.”

She simply shrugs.

The day is winding down. Early evening approaches and the Texas sun starts to bathe everything in a golden glaze straight out of a George Strait song.

“You know…I’m happy for you.” As you and her start putting everything away for the day, your sister casually drops that line.

“About what?” You smirk.

“You and Javi.” She clarifies. Her face is messy with sweat but she beams bright. “You deserve someone like him.”

Your sister, always so kind, maybe too kind for a world this harsh sometimes.

“What? Someone who always manages to steal the last biscuit or flirts with grandma more and more everyday?” You tease and your little sister snickers.

“Well yeah. But what I mean is…you deserve someone who sees how great you are.”

Her words crash into you with a tidal wave of emotions. Her attention rests with her horse, getting in a few final brushes before she turns in for the day.

“I know you… think you’re some sort of failure or that you’re not good. But you are. You’re actually the fucking best.” She says so simply. “And I’m happy Javi sees it too.”

Tears clog your eyes and dry out your throat.

“You sound like a bad hallmark card.” You laugh watery but the gratitude flows out.

Your sister glares then throws the grooming brush at you. You laugh harder when she misses and once she’s out of the stable you playfully shove her.

“You heading back?” She notices your slow pace that hangs back.

You reassure her you’ll be home in a minute and just need a few minutes to yourself. With an understanding nod she walks back to the house.

Now alone you head to the very last stable and head to your ace. You miss your old companion and seeing this sweet creature nudge his muzzle against your hand conjures a sad nostalgic tug in your heart.

Grabbing the saddle, and untangling the reign, you head out to the ring.

You’ve been talking about your old rodeo days with Javi a lot recently. You ask him about Columbia as well. In the sacred soft space of pillow talk. you and him gently unravel more memories, more secrets to each other. It’s made you nostalgic, even a bit wistful.

Plus, you haven’t done this in a while. You frequently rode at a leisurely place along the trails by the river from time to time. But getting into the ring is still so sacred.

With your horse all set, you hoist yourself up and onto the saddle.

Just a few laps is all you do. You focus on the sound of the dirt under the hooves, the light breeze on your face, the feel of riding again.

Then, after gaining more confidence, you speed up.

It’s not even close to the speeds you used to hit, but it’s quick. You even make a lap around the ring going this speed.

One rotation, one good lap and you’re soaring.

It’s nothing. It’s not even an attempt to get back into the rhythm of racing. But it’s a ride and home in its own way.

You slow down, let the horse trot out of his groove to calm down. The entire time, your chest feels so light.

Your eyes glance out and then your heart drops.

Javi, with his flat out jaw dropped, stares at you as if you’ve spouted wings. You didn’t even hear him approach.

He breathes out your name.

Scrambling, a bit embarrassed, you quickly dismount, and after guiding the horse to the side you rush towards him.

You’re about to apologize for not noticing him when Javier ends up speaking first.

“You’re incredible.” He exhales in awe and it knocks the wind from you.

He must see whatever emotion colors your face because he repeats himself again firmer.

“You’re amazing, bandita.”

You weakly laugh thanking him.

“Does that mean-”

“Nah,” you gently cut him off and explain how you just enjoy a ride like that from time to time.

“It’s like just taking a casual drive type thing.” You shrug.

Suddenly Javi’s hand moves to rest on your arm leaning against the fence. He rubs so soft and comfortingly.

“Thank you,” he says gently. “For letting me know you.”

You want him to know every inch of you. The same way you want to know Javier in every way that you can. You want to carve out a home in your heart for him.

The hand that was on your arm moves to your cheek tilting your face towards his. He wears his classic aviator sunglasses you’ve grown fond of stealing from him.

He’s so gorgeous. It’s like the Texas sun was made to bask Javi in its glow. He’s a modern Helios, beautifully crafted with his deep earthy eyes and golden face.

“Proud of you, mi bandita.” He mutters with words soaked in adoration.

You swallow hard and let the truth sink into you.

“Thank you Javi… I’m proud of you too.” You earnestly tell him.

He snorts bashfully and you think you might be doomed to think about this man forever now, but it’s alright.

There’s something foreign in your chest growing so bright you feel as if you’ve swallowed a sun and maybe you have. Because Javier is bright, so unexpectedly warm.

A man crafted right out of the Texas golden magic hour.

And as Javi leans forward to kiss you so tenderly, you step forward into the sun, into his kaleidoscopic glow and it’s beautiful.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Shopping with Beth Dutton

Wattpad request - based off where Monica was getting accused of stealing, but instead it’s the reader. Kayce finds out what happened with you and Beth

Tag list - just send an ask to be added @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @frost-queen @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Pushing around some clothes that were hanging on the rack I wasn't finding anything that I truly wanted to buy. Kayce, my husband is currently working as Livestock Commissioner now that his father John had stepped down to spend more time with our son Tate. Moving my bag up higher on my shoulder I turned to head out the door till the woman who owned the store got my attention. “Excuse me. Did you think you were just going to walk out of here without me noticing what you took.”

“I'm sorry, are you accusing me of stealing?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

She scoffed going behind her front desk and dialing a number on her phone. “Oh I know you stole something, outsider.”

I was definitely out of my element living here in Montana. My sister Summer Higgins and I had gone our separate ways. She had become an animal rights activist and I had gone and fell in love with the youngest son of a family with the largest land in Montana. Even though I was wearing just a red flannel shirt, ripped blue jeans and some muddy brown boots that went up to my knees almost everyone here could see I didn’t quite fit in. I was as the shop owner called me an outsider.

Taking out my phone I held it in front of my chest texting the first person I could think of that wouldn’t get physical with this woman. I knew if my husband found out he would only resort to violence and likely get arrested by the police. “The police are on their way.”

“I didn’t steal anything.” I spoke to her hiding my phone inside my back pocket.

The shop woman didn’t seem to buy what I was telling her. “I’m gonna find out what you took and you're going to pay for it.”

A few minutes later the police arrived. One man and one woman who approached the shop owner while I remained standing in the corner of the shop. “What seems to be the trouble here, ma’am?” The male officer asked her.

The owner pointed her index finger at me. “She stole something and was about to walk out but I know I saw her. Now she’s refusing to give it up.”

The female officer glanced at me. “Is that true?”

“No. She’s lying.”

The male officer held out his hand. “Can I see your driver's license please?” Handing over my ID he looked it over in silence.

“Search her clothes. She must be hiding it.” The owner snapped at me and I bit my lip wanting to roll my eyes.

The female officer gestured to one of the dressing rooms in the back of the store. I slowly walked back to the area and she entered the dressing room with me. “Take off your clothes.”

“Is this really necessary? I haven’t stolen anything. She’s lying to you just to get attention or something.” I rolled my eyes tugging my shirt over my head and dropping my pants, leaving me standing in my bra and underwear.

The officer looked inside my bra and inside my clothes that I had dropped onto the floor not finding anything there like I knew she would. She stood upright eyeing my underwear ordering me. “Remove your underwear and bend over so I can look there.”

“Are you freaking insane? I’m not doing that.” Raising my voice I crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t comfortable stripping in front of a stranger. I was only comfortable doing something like this around my husband. Kayce and I had a drunk night out at the bar and ended up getting pregnant with our son. It was a good relationship though, we already had feelings for each other before getting drunk and falling into bed with one another.

The officer glared at me with her arms across her chest. “Remove them or I will take you in for failure to comply with an officer.”

Slowly tugging my underwear down my legs I heard my sister in law's voice outside the closed curtains. “Where is she?”

“Who Beth?” the owner asked her.

“My sister in law.” The next thing I know the curtain got thrown open and my sister in law was standing in the doorway, staring at us. “I'm no lawyer, but I believe it's the 4th Amendment that deals with unlawful search and seizure.”

“This search is voluntary.” The female officer spoke.

“Sure doesn't look voluntary to me.” My sister in law didn't buy it, snapping a picture with her phone. “Leave her alone. Get dressed.”

Quickly throwing my clothes back on I found Beth outside pointing at the male officer and then the female officer scolding them for what they tried to do to me. “I went to high school with you. And you, you babysat her husband.”

“On her driver's license, her last name is Higgins.” The male officer pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “I doubt that's gonna save you, buddy.”

“Thank you, Beth.” I replied to her with a kind smile, about to walk out the door till she grabbed my forearm.

“Just know I like you cause you eat steak.” She whispered before turning the open sign on the door to close and glaring at the shop owner and went around looking at her products “Wait. Don't go. You'll miss all the fun. Well, I'm here. Might as well shop. Oh, that's nice.”

“Nah. Not for me.” The next item she picked up was a glass statue. She suddenly smashed it against another glass object and smashed it on the countertop until it was completely broken into pieces.

“Beth, I think that’s enough.” I softly spoke towards her direction.

“And you. You fucking cunt, I remember when you gave out hand jobs for lunch money, Veronica. That was before the boob job and the dermabrasion and the doctor dumb enough to marry you.” Beth picked up another object from the counter that she hadn’t broken before picking up a dress and held it out to the woman. The shop owner took it from her hand trying to go to the dressing room but Beth wouldn’t let her. “That's lovely. Model it for me, would you? Oh, I think we're well past dressing rooms, don't you? Try it on here.”

I called out my sister in law's name thinking she had made her point. “Beth.”

“You know, it's not a "have to," Veronica. I can just keep smashing shit. Try it on.” Beth launched the object in her hands against a glass mirror and shoved some things off the nearest table, sitting down on it to watch as the owner removed her clothes. Beth got down and peaked inside her underwear scoffing under her breath. ““Ooh. Spanx. What a shocker. You know, you had an ass like a 12-year-old boy in high school. What happened? Now we're getting somewhere. Well, you're not a real blonde. What a surprise.”

Stepping around the owner I got in her face, slightly feeling sorry for her but she did the same thing to me just because she didn’t know who I was when I walked inside her place of business. “You didn’t know me and because of that you didn’t even give me the chance to explain how wrong you were. Just know I won’t be shopping here anymore and you better hope I never tell my husband about this.”

“Are you ready to go? I need a beer.” Beth asked me waiting by the door and I followed her out not thinking about the owner once we had left her store.

Once we had decided we had enough drinks at the bar and talked we made our way home and back to the ranch. Walking up the wood stairs and opening the front door I was taken by surprise seeing my husband sitting on the end of the couch with his gaze focused on me. “Kayce? I - I thought you’d be in bed.”

“Not when my wife gets accused of stealing and forced to strip in front of a police officer.”

Bringing a hand to my face I groaned in embarrassment, not wanting him to know what occurred today at that store. “You - who told you?”

“Beth.” He answered, getting up from the couch and pulling me in for a brief hug, mumbling into my hair. “Honey, why didn’t you think you could tell me about this?”

Muttering into his gray shirt I felt some tears welling in my eyes. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Y/n, I'm your husband. I’m always going to worry about you.” He broke the hug drawing back so I could see his face. His soft brown eyes looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in his world, which was entirely true.

Raising a hand up to the side of his face he leaned into the palm of my hand. “Awe Kayce.”

“I love you.” He whispered, lending down and kissing me for the first time since he left to go to work this morning. I kissed him back gripping the fabric of his shirt, deepening the kiss till he broke it. He showed me a cheeky smirk on his face. “Tate is asleep. I know we’ve both had a long day and I was thinking we could go to bed hmm/”

“I’m down for anything, cowboy.” Grinning up at him I nodded, squealing once he had scooped me up in his arms bridal style. He carried me up the stairs and into his bedroom with us both tumbling down onto the mattress. Wrapping my arms around his neck I felt him rest his forehead against mine. “I love you.” Kayce pressed his lips deeply down onto mine, while my fingers knotted into his brown curly hair tugging on it and hearing a moan come from him. The evening became filled with flying clothing and heated kisses, getting completely lost in one another for the rest of the night. Being in a relationship with a Dutton is never easy, but when you need one of them they do come through for you.

[ryuzakemo128]

The Carina's Heart Galaxy

Chapter Two: What The Fuck?

Pairing: Poly!141 x Female Reader/ You

Content Warning: Sex doll mention, female reader is slight unhinged (Soap's Opinion), Female reader loves explosives (Much to soaps fear and delight imo), possible swearing and cussing?. If I missed something let me know.

Words: 1602

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist

Summary: Who knew I’d meet you again so soon?

Who knew I’d meet you again so soon? Here I thought my day couldn’t get any weirder. I spoke to you last night and now I’m speaking to you again. Except this time, you’re in your space themed pyjamas, galaxy socks with cats prints, shark shaped slippers and a shark beanie. Kate said she was important, or rather her brain is. I didn’t know why until I saw you midway through your laser gun experiment round.

The charcoal grey brunch coat hanging on for dear life on your shoulders while your giant full ball of a cat watched with disdain of the noise you were making. The pink collar with the rose gold name tag with Mr. Whiskers in cursive engraved into the metal tag. The regal behaviour from a cat large enough to be the side of a medium sized dog remained palpable.

“Hey! You. You’re the guy I was talking to yesterday. Or am I just imagining things?” you remarked. “I forgot to ask how you liked dessert last night. The chocolate fudge I mean.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at your question and the amount of high energy you managed to summon at the sight of me, “It was rather sweet and salty. Though I am surprised you remember that.”

You looked at me with puzzlement, “Why wouldn’t I remember? That was a pretty intense chat we had last night. Besides sea salted caramel fudge is the best kind of fudge.”

Soap raised an eyebrow at the mention of your favourite type of fudge, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sea salted caramel, you say? That’s quite the taste you’ve got there, Doc.”

“Specific, but the diner I usually go to at night sometimes. They make the best kind.” You commented. “Sure, the whole diner is a little suspect on the outside. But man, the fudge is the best.”

Gaz nodded, his eyes lighting up with the same enthusiasm. “I know the one. They’ve got a secret recipe. The owner is an ex-navy chef. He’s got a taste for the sweet and salty combination.”

“Yeah. Not too far off from my father’s taste for dipped buttered toast with his porridge.” You quipped with a smirk.

Gaz looked to be reeling in from the conversation we had last night after I returned to the safe house. Whistling an upbeat tune, it took him by surprise, in fact it took them all by surprise. He never whistled like that. Ever.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Soap asked, his eyes looking at me with suspicion.

Ghost looked at me with equal amount of suspicion, he also questioned, “What has you in such a good mood?”

I smirked from ear to ear, feeling the energy in the room shift slightly. You had a certain charm about you that was infectious, even if you didn’t realize it. The way you spoke about your love for science and the mundane yet delightful things in life was refreshing. It was as if you didn’t have a care in the world, despite the chaos that probably swirled in your mind with your job.

“I met someone at the diner.” I told them. It did nothing to ease their suspicions. “Ah, you should have seen her. Beautiful in her midnight blue dress with silver stars.”

“Talking my ear off about quantum entanglement and how she doesn’t believe ‘fate’ exists.” I continued after a breathy pause. “And her car? A gorgeous vintage.”

“The biggest, largest bonus of the entire night? She grabbed my hand, wrote her number with a pink sharpie and bought me dessert before she left.” I was rambling. I knew that. But how could I not? How could I not ramble about the woman that made a lasting impression on me?

You probably could kick my arse, and I’d thank you for it afterwards. A strong woman like you? Rare. A strong and smart woman like you? Even rarer.

It was when they saw you disintegrate a soda can in your pyjamas while your cat looked on with disinterest. Soap saw you shoot the thing in your makeshift shooting range with your makeshift targets made from a stack of empty soda cans. He only found you there after hearing the evil cackle you made from behind the brick fence.

Things started making far more sense after seeing you in person finally. Though the amount of sense wasn’t all that much. The level of unhinged is only amplified by the fact that you couldn’t be bothered to change out of your pyjamas first.

Soap recognised you from an explosive drill you did to ‘get a better handle on things’. He was far too scared to ask what you meant at the time. The grenade you altered and wanted to test out? How you said it was meant to replicate the effects of outer space in a compact form.

You are a contradiction of sorts. A living, breathing contradiction, paradox and conundrum altogether. “How did you like that grenade I made?” you asked Soap. “I have made a few upgrades since the last version. I can’t wait to show you the progress I made.”

You brought them up on the digital whiteboard on the wall of your lab. The upgrades were: sticky grip, vanta black coating, heavily reduction in shrapnel, a more concentrated burst of energy, the ability to create a small vacuum around it and, my personal favourite, a self-destruct mechanism that would make Q proud.

Soap looked at you with a mix of awe and fear. “Jesus, Doc. That's... That's some serious shit you're playing with here. How the hell do you even come up with these ideas?”

"Regular grenades, grenade launchers, they're all so... pedestrian." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, a hint of mischief glinting in your eyes. "But a grenade that can stick to surfaces, reduce collateral damage, and create a temporary vacuum? That's a game-changer. It's like bringing a piece of the cosmos into combat."

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air like the aftermath of a supernova. Then, Soap laughs, a boisterous sound that fills the lab. "You're insane, Doc, you know that? In the best possible way." He says, clapping his hands together with the kind of excitement that only a seasoned soldier could muster for something so potentially destructive.

"I named it after the Fibonacci sequence." you told him.

Soap looked at you with bewilderment. "The Fibonacci sequence? As in, the mathematical sequence that appears in nature?"

"Yes. That one." you were buzzing with so much excitement.

Soap nodded slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, Doc. You've officially out-nerded us all. A grenade named after a maths sequence that's supposed to replicate space?"

“Just wait till you see my gaming set up.” You stated. Hinting at one of your hobbies you have.

You showed off your gaming set up in the room beside your lab. The framed posters of movies you enjoyed on the walls. The mouse pad with the Doom Slayer on it and your computer had a Lady Maria from bloodborne animated wallpaper on all three of your computer monitors.

The life-sized statue of The Master Chief from the Halo game series. The rug with the Millennium Falcon printed onto it. Though the sex doll you had in the other corner of the room was rather specific, with the j-cup sized breasts, blonde hair, height of 5 foot 3 and brown eyes.

“Is that...?” Soap’s eyes widened, pointing to the doll.

"A sex doll? Yes." you answered.

Soap looked at the doll again, his expression unreadable. "What's the story behind that?"

"Apart from the outfits I put on her to see if it'll look any good on my own figure?" you asked.

Soap’s face was a picture, a mix of shock and confusion. “You dress her up?”

"Did you expect me to leave her naked?" you questioned.

Ghost smothered a laugh with his hand while Gaz's eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except at the doll. Soap was the only one who remained unfazed, his gaze lingering on the doll with a sort of detached curiosity.

"Truth be told, I'm surprised you even spotted it." you snickered.

Soap’s curiosity grew, “How’d you get into gaming?”

"Older brother." you answered.

Soap raised an eyebrow, "He sounds like quite the character."

"Yeah, but he wasn't into hentai like I am so there." you quipped.

Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, clearly surprised by your candidness. Ghost remained stoic, his gaze lingering on the doll with an unreadable expression. You didn't miss the glances, but you were used to people's reactions to your unconventional hobbies. You shrugged it off, moving over to your computer.

"You guys play games?" you asked, changing the subject. The room felt awkwardly silent, but you didn't mind. It was your space, your sanctuary, and you felt comfortable with your newfound guests.

"Yeah, we've got our fair share of downtime." Soap admitted, "What's your go-to?"

"Bloodborne, Elden Ring, Doom 2016, Doom Eternal, Halo Reach, and, The Evil Within 2." You replied without a moment's hesitation.

I didn't think I would have liked her this much. Though to be fair I wasn't expecting to bump into her to begin with. Sure, you weren’t what I imagined you to be. But I like it better this way. Soap and Ghost assumed you were socially inept as soon as I told them you were a scientist.

I’m just glad I finally met someone with the right kind of madness inside them.