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[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mentions of blood/gore and violence ❧ Word Count: 5.3k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Duke Richard of House Grimes and his knight, Sir Daryl, arrive at King Ezekiel's court, though they do not know why they've been invited. Meanwhile, things are not well in the kingdom of Alexandria as a new threat begins to terrorize its citizens. Despite this, the princess dreams of seeing the world outside the castle walls by which she is imprisoned. She meets someone who she thinks might be able to help.

❧ A/N: Well, here it is. The first part of this weird ass thing I'm writing. I realize that this is super cringey but do I care? Well, a little, but you know what, I am having so much fun writing this and learning about medieval stuff so I am happy with it. I will link a "Before You Read..." page so that you guys can get a little more background info about what I'm trying to do here. I know this is kind of a weird AU and stuff so I have some disclaimers in that link. I've also included a link to the Merciless Beauty Glossary, which lists definitions for some of the terminology I will be using throughout the series. I recommend having that document open as you read as you can use it to quickly refer to in case you come across a word you are not familiar with.

Beyond gentle slopes of overgrown emerald pastures rose tall, imposing battlements of limestone, with tiny silhouettes of guards poking out of each crenel. From this distance, they looked hardly menacing, but the king’s guards were diligent, and their prowess in battle was not to be underestimated. 

The duke raised the blue flag of Alexandria, signaling to the guards that they were no threat. In response, a guard reached over the wall to wave the same flag.

“They see us,” remarked the duke, pulling on the reins of his golden horse. “Here.” He handed back the worn piece of cerulean fabric to the knight who rode by his side. “Strange customs, but I don’t blame them.”

They moved upon their horses in a dignified trot, the knight’s ebony friesian stallion trained to mirror the movements of the steward’s palomino steed. 

“They should be afraid,” said the knight. “The world is a dangerous place. Can’t believe they’ve held out this long.”

The duke flashed him a knowing look, that almost seemed to curl into an amused crack of the lips. “Sir Daryl,” he said, “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

The knight adjusted his feet in the heavy iron stirrups. He’d never quite get used to his lord’s jests. “Sorry,” he spoke simply. A man of few words, Richard always said. 

“It’s all right, but you’d be advised to put on a cheerful face for the king. Joviality goes a long way with his type.”

“His type?”

“Unlike you, my friend, King Ezekiel is known for his… good humor.”

Daryl scoffed from the corner of his crooked smirk. “Thanks… What does the king want with you, anyway?”

Richard’s brows knit together in another amused expression of faux offense. “You think I’m not able to acquire a king’s favor? Careful, knight, you’re a free man now, but you could be downgraded to villein if necessary.”

Of course, the serious knight knew that such a threat was meant in good humor. Ten years of loyal servitude to the duke was more than enough reassurance. 

The men continued onward, their horses plodding through moors that seemed to stretch on forever. The castle couldn’t come closer for Sir Daryl. He was dreading it, the pomp and circumstance of it all. But then, he knew that when he became a knight. It wasn’t the typical story, in fact. He wasn’t of any kind of good birth, his parents being poor and rather unsuccessful merchants in some other kingdom he’d purposefully forgotten the name of. 

No, he wasn’t a nobleman’s son or a squire. He’d earned his title almost reluctantly, through his triumphs and battle prowess in the First War. That is, the war that preceded the Scourge. 

A knight’s duty was to protect a lord, of course. He’d managed a position as the protector of Duke Richard’s land, just outside of Alexandria. In exchange for his protection, the knight had a place to live, and not a bad place at all. It was better than any decrepit wooden shack he’d lived in before, and, as far as nobility went, the duke was not a bad man. In fact, he was a good man, and that was hard to come by in times like these. 

“But it’s odd,” Richard continued, “I don’t know what the king wants with me. I know he wants me to join his court, but I’ve heard he hasn’t invited anyone to court in ten years, since it broke out.” It, of course, was always understood as a reference to the plague that killed ordinary men with a gruesome fever, then brought them back as snarling, rotting walking dead men that feasted on the flesh of those who were unlucky enough to still be alive. 

No one knew where it came from, but many thought the curse was nothing short of the wrath of God Himself. It was the only explanation in a world completely devoid of comfort. Though the idea that a supposedly benevolent god bestowing such a pestilence upon his so-called beloved children was hardly comforting. In these times, people took what they could get. 

“Maybe he just wants your wonderful company,” Daryl replied, sure to speak with a sarcastic lilt to his gruff voice. 

“No, no,” Richard said. “It doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel and I have only spoken a few times… You know, there’s a princess.”

Oh, yes, everyone knew of the princess, of course, though no one had seen her in years. The gatehouse of that castle hadn’t opened in ten years. No one had come in, and no one had gone out. Until now, of course. 

“There’s always a princess,” Daryl huffed. “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

“Well, she’s got to be a woman now… I’m sure the king is looking to wed her to someone.”

Daryl flashed a suspicious glance at the curly-haired man, who returned the look with a steady shake of his head. 

“You think he wants you to court her?”

“I don’t know, but if what they say is true, the princess is the most beautiful woman in Alexandria. Some say beyond Alexandria, too.”

It was odd for a man of Richard’s age and status to be unmarried. His wife had died six years ago in childbirth, along with the child. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was a great tragedy in the duke’s life. The knight couldn’t see him remarrying at all after that, but if the king was going to offer his daughter to him, he would be a fool not to accept. 

“Women with that kind of beauty are hard to come by,” continued Richard. “And royal, too. Hell, the princess is the king’s only child. That means… I could become king when he dies.”

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself,” chided Daryl. “We’re not even at the gatehouse yet.”

“Welcome, my friends!”

The king extended his arms wide, about as wide as the grin upon his countenance. He crossed the great hall, the steps of his pointed poulaines echoing off the grand high ceilings. The king’s hand clasped jovially upon the duke’s shoulder, but the gesture quickly turned into a hearty embrace. 

“It’s good to see you,” said the king. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“It has.” 

The duke raised his eyes to gaze upon the magnificence of the hall. Though the exterior of the castle may have appeared quite imposing, the great hall was warm, welcoming, even. Elaborate arrangements of strong wooden arches upheld the roof, complete with intricately designed corbels to support them. Draped from the high stone walls were long blue banners bearing the royal family’s crest, no doubt made from the finest threads. Tapestries depicting mythical creatures and romantic scenes of knights going to battle or courting ladies were on full display, too. The hall was illuminated by the gilded light of what seemed to be a hundred or so candles, some upon sconces, others upon tables and in iron chain chandeliers. The pungent aroma of honey and elderflower tickled at the uninitiated noses of the two travelers, and, sure enough, in the king’s hand was a fine pewter goblet, which no doubt must’ve been brimming with a particularly pungent, sweet smelling mead.

“Come!” exclaimed the king. “Have a drink! This is cause for celebration.”

The loud bravado in the king’s voice must’ve alerted the court as finely dressed nobles began to pour in from the arches and the upstairs landing. As the duke and his knight followed the king to his banquet table, just in front of his imposing bronze throne, the court gathered in greater globs. Murmurs began to permeate the great hall, and the knight could just feel an army of eyes laid upon him and his lord. It wasn’t a feeling he reveled in. 

“We’ve already had our feast,” said the king, sitting himself comfortably at the head of the long wooden table. “But I can have a servant bring you something. Only the finest dining here.”

“We’ve already eaten. Just a drink is fine for now, your majesty,” said the duke. As he sat, the loyal knight followed. 

Daryl felt bear, having been made rid of his greatsword and his cloak by the guards at the entrance to the keep. There were few places outside of his home that he felt safe enough without either. 

“Ah, libations!” exclaimed the emphatic king. He held his goblet high for emphasis. “This is the finest mead in Alexandria and her surrounding kingdoms. It comes from a monastery, I’ve been told. They raise bees there, isn’t that fantastic?”

The knight and the duke exchanged a glance. They had no idea what to make of the king. He was so full of merry, the likes of which they hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps it was the mead, but Richard knew the man was jovial. Still, it was a kind of shock.

The servants arrived with intricately detailed pewter pitchers full of the honey wine, filling their goblets to the brim. The excesses of wealth and royalty were foreign to the knight. Duke Richard was wealthy, yes, but not like this.

“So,” spoke the king, “I trust your journey through my kingdom was pleasant? No dead ones crossed your path?”

“Not at all,” said Richard. “Your kingdom is quite safe, it seems. Those tall walls will keep anything out.”

“Hm, yes,” agreed Ezekiel. “But you can never be too careful. No one’s left the castle in ten years, I’m sure you know. It’s better to be safe.”

That reminded the duke. He intended to ask why the king had invited him to court, but before he could speak again, the boisterous king looked to Sir Daryl with an enthusiastic curiosity. 

“This is your knight?”

“Yes, this is Sir Daryl.”

The king settled back in his chair, stroking the gray corkscrew hairs upon his noble chin. “Ah, I’ve heard of your gallantry in battle, how you earned your title. My father knighted you, didn’t he?”

Daryl looked to his steward, wordlessly asking for permission to speak. Richard nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” spoke the knight. His voice was raspier than usual, having been silent for so long since arriving at the castle. After all, what could a knight possibly have to say? His only duty was to protect his lord, as a vassal. He was of lower rank than Richard, and, though he never much cared for the details of hierarchy, it was in his best interest to know his place.

“How grand! Well, gentlemen, I do hope you find this court to be a fount of merriment in these dark times.” He gestured to the surrounding great hall, and the people who watched with bated breath as they clung to the monarch’s every word. “Everyone has been so eager to meet you. This is a momentous occasion. A toast!” The king stood to his feet, raising his goblet high. Others followed suit, of course, as the two newcomers sat overwhelmed at the king’s table. “To Duke Richard and his knight, the first additions to court in a decade of strife.”

“Huzzah!” 

With a long drink of his mead, the king met the duke with wide eyes, then removed the cup in a near panic, though it was a jolly panic. “I almost forgot! How could I forget? My daughter, (Y/N). Elizabeth! Fetch my daughter!”

“Yes, your majesty.” The mousy young maid with flaxen hair frantically ascended the staircase with great haste. 

Richard straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. The knight could tell he was nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. A princess was hardly anything to be nervous about. It was the king the duke needed to impress, he thought. 

“Minstrels!” the king exclaimed, gesturing towards the troupe of musicians across the great hall. There were three, each dressed in colorful garb and feathered caps. One held a lute, the other, a flute, and the third, a tambour. “Play something for the princess’s entrance. Something… delicate, but dignified, like her.”

“Yes, your majesty!” one of the minstrels replied.

Yes, your majesty, seemed a rather common phrase around here.

Then, from atop the stairs appeared a young woman.

You heard the musicians begin to play their little tune—a soft, simple tune that seemed to evolve with each step you took. Each step was calculated and precise, partly because that was how you were trained to walk, and partly because you were careful not to trip over your gown. Your father had instructed you to wear your best clothes the last few days, though you weren’t sure why. You’d heard of a duke coming to court, but it was hardly of any interest to you. Why should you care? Why should you welcome an outsider when you haven’t been able to leave this dusty old castle in years? 

“That must be the duke,” whispered Margaret. She followed your every move, as a lady-in-waiting was supposed to. 

“He’s handsome,” Michonne whispered back. 

You shushed the ladies out of the corner of your mouth. They were much too excited for their own good, much more excited than you. 

At the base of the staircase, your father held his hand out to you, beaming at your beauty. Tonight, you wore your favorite champagne-colored surcote, made from a heavy silk, with long, flowing sleeves that split at the elbow to reveal the pure white lace-front gown. The décolletage was modest, but deep enough to reveal just the beginning of your cleavage, formed by the tight lacing that held your chest in place. It wasn’t quite in vogue these days, but then again, nothing was in vogue these days. 

As you took his hand, you realized that the duke and his knight were standing for you. Of course they were, but their new faces caught you off guard. You knew everyone in court so well, it was strange to see two strangers standing for you.

Your father lifted his hand, in turn raising your arm to show you off like a prized mare. With knitted brows and a quivering lip, you flashed him a confused expression. He’d never introduced you like this before, but then again, he never introduced you to anyone before. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the duke and his knight. “I present to you my daughter, (Y/N), Crown Princess of Alexandria.”

The men each bent over to bow before you, and you took in their appearance with great interest. It wasn’t often you had new faces to study.

The duke was well-dressed, wearing a damask scarlet doublet that must’ve cost a fortune, with tight-fitting wool hose to accentuate his lean legs. It would be remiss not to note how handsome he was, with a head of lush curls and a short, well-trimmed beard to frame his salmon-colored lips. If it weren’t for his title and his clothing, you could tell the man was a noble just by looking at the shape of his nose, aquiline and strong. Yes, he was handsome.

But just beyond his shoulder, your eyes were pulled like magnets to the knight. His clothes were more muted, but made from a fine material. A plain black wool tabard draped over his broad shoulders, his waist cinched with a fine leather belt, strapped to which was a lone misericorde, the dagger which you knew from your studies to be what knights used to deliver the final death blow to an enemy. The sharp tip sent a shiver down your spine as you wondered briefly if he’d ever had to use it. 

Though his coloring was similar to the duke, both having hair of brown and eyes of blue, their similarities ended there. The knight had a much more tired face, world-weary. It was difficult to see clearly, given the shadows created by the long wavy locks of hair shrouding his visage, but he appeared to have a reddened scar trailing from his brow to his cheek, crossing over his left eye. 

From what you could see, he looked nothing like any man you’d seen before. He was weather-worn and hardened by the world, at least, that’s how he looked. He must’ve seen such terrible things, you thought. In the fine lines of his face, you could begin to make out an image of the world outside. Here was a man who must’ve known its ins and outs like the back of his hand, must’ve been so brave to have survived this long outside the walls, fighting the Dead.

Though your face was softened by curiosity, the knight’s was stoic and cold. He seemed somehow both distant and alert, aware of his surroundings despite his reluctance to be surrounded by them. The duke’s kind face was much more welcoming, but, for a moment, you were held hostage by the knight’s narrowed, serious gaze. 

“Your highness,” said the duke. “I am Duke Richard of House Grimes.” He turned to gesture towards the knight. “And this is my knight, Sir Daryl.”

A curious name for a curious face, you thought. Still, you tried to maintain your focus on the nobleman.

“It is an honor to meet you, milord,” you replied. “The court has been anticipating your arrival.” Though I haven’t. “Oh, these are my ladies-in-waiting, Lady Margaret and Lady Michonne.”

You brought the ladies forth, each of them curtseying before the duke. It gave you a moment to look upon the knight again. 

“Pleasure,” the duke said to your ladies. “And… may I say, princess, you’re just as radiant as they say.”

You looked wide-eyed at the king, who smiled bigger than he had in years. The blush that blossomed upon your cheeks was not one of flattery, necessarily, but slight embarrassment. “Oh… They speak of me?”

“Yes. Common people often praise your beauty. Many would sell their land or their livestock for the chance just to get a glimpse of you. I must admit, it would be worth it.”

A whirlpool of emotions formed in your belly, mostly confusion. You’d never been complimented quite like this before. “Well… Thank you, milord. That’s very kind of you to say.” Swallowing hard, you turned to your father, who seemingly expected you to return with an equal compliment. “Father, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the evening.” You turned back to face the duke. “Goodnight, Richard. I hope your stay in court is pleasant.”

Your father’s smile faded with your announcement, but he nodded as he tried to offset his disappointment. “Of course, my dear. Goodnight.”

At length, you sat before your vanity to remove your jewels while Elizabeth prepared your bed as usual. She hummed to herself the same little tune the musicians had played earlier for your grand entrance to meet the duke. Removing your translucent veil, you got to work undoing the circles of elaborate braids and removing the genuine pearls laced throughout when a rapping came at the door of your chamber.

“My dear, it’s me,” said your father. “May I come in?”

Oh, for pity's sake. 

You turned on your stool to gesture towards Elizabeth. “Let him in,” you said. “I can undress myself tonight. Goodnight, Beth.”

The young girl nodded before opening the door for the king. He thanked her as she left, while you straightened up to no doubt receive a tongue lashing for your less than friendly reception of the newcomers. 

“(Y/N),” he sighed, sitting at the foot of your bed as he adjusted his gold trimmed velvet robe. “My dear… I must say I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t sit and speak with the duke tonight.”

“Well, father, I… It’s hard to be excited about these new guests when I myself haven’t been outside the castle since I was a girl. And now, all of a sudden, you’re letting in some nobleman and his knight? Why?”

To the king, it was obvious, but to you, it was totally unclear. There was much about the world you still didn’t know, and though you were knowledgeable, on account of your royal tutoring, you were still naïve in many ways. 

Your father stood as he sighed, piecing a long, gray-black dread lock behind his ear. “Well, I was hoping…” He shook his head, then crossed over to you, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with that adventurous sparkle in his eyes. “You liked Richard, didn’t you? He was charming?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but you shrugged and nodded with a half-smile. “Why, yes. He’s charming.”

“And handsome?”

“Well… Of course. He’s very handsome, any woman would think so.”

“So…”

“Father, are you… trying to ask me if I want to court the duke?”

“Yes,” he laughed in relief that you caught on without him having to explain. “Richard is a good man, one of the best nobles left. He’s wealthy, too. Though I was always hoping for a political marriage for you, as long as the man is at least a noble and a suitable husband, I think this kind of match would be good for you. In fact, we could move Richard here, that way you never have to leave the castle, and—”

“Father!” you exclaimed, shocked by how excited he was at this idea without even hearing your thoughts, of which you had many. “I’m not ready to marry!”

“But you’re twenty-six, my dear.”

Standing to your feet, you shook your head and pulled out the remaining braids in your hair. “I’m just not ready. The duke is… He’s perfect, but I’m not interested. I can’t explain it, it’s just not a match.”

“But you’ve hardly spoken to him!”

You didn’t need to speak to him to know, you just knew. It was impossible to explain. All you knew was that it wouldn’t work, and that marriage was simply not in your near future. You had other priorities, other… curiosities. Love was not one of them, except in your fairytales and love poems. You had a hard time believing love could be any better than that. 

“Father, please. I’ve told you how I felt, and I’m sorry if you brought this man here just for me, but I can’t force myself to try with someone who doesn’t interest me in that way.”

He crossed the room with a soft step, his face morphing into an understanding smile. “I know, darling. I’m sorry to have upset you. I would never force you into a marriage that didn’t please you, I just… I just want you to marry a good man. Well, so long as he’s a noble, at least.”

Your father was never a traditional king, but he still insisted on some things, and one of them was that you would marry well. Well meaning high status. Some things were sacred.

“But if the duke isn’t to your liking,” he continued, “I won’t force it.”

“Thank you, father. That means a great deal to me.”

“Good.” His hand cradled the back of your head to bring you forward, allowing him to bestow a fatherly kiss upon your forehead. “Someday, you will make a great queen. A better ruler than me, I am sure.”

“Father,” you laughed. “You are a great ruler. The people love you. Everyone loves you. That’s what matters.”

“My sweet girl,” he said, now holding your cheeks to admire your pretty, delicate features. You were truly a princess through and through. “You’re the most precious jewel in my crown.” An old phrase he’d said to you since you were a little girl. The man was so sentimental, a trait you admired greatly. “I bid you goodnight.”

As he headed back towards the door, you began to think freely, with your mind returning to the knight beside Richard. Daryl, you recalled his name. You’d never heard a name like that, nor seen a face like that. 

“Father?” you called out to him just before he could leave.

“Yes, my dear?”

Looking down, you toyed with the fine silk fabric of your surcote, prefering to study the rich champagne color than to face your father as you asked, “Tell me about Richard’s knight.”

The king’s brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side in a display of curiosity and confusion. “The knight? Sir… Daryl, I believe?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, still nervously rubbing the garment between your fingers. To clarify, you lifted your gaze to your father. “Well, I mean… I was just curious. You know how I have a fascination with knights and things of that sort.”

The king shook his head with a warm, deep chuckle. “Oh, daughter. Well, I don’t know much of him, other than that he is brave, loyal… He was knighted by your grandfather, you know. Just a few years before he passed.”

“And he is of noble birth, like Richard?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Not at all. His parents were lower gentry. He earned his title in battle, a rare feat for a knight, as you know.”

Indeed, most knights were born to nobility, becoming pageboys before the age of ten, then promoting to squire in their youth. After years of studying under an established knight, the squire would then undergo the dubbing ceremony. He’d learn the code of chivalry, and he’d pledge allegiance to a lord, offering military services in exchange for a fief, or land. It seemed that Sir Daryl must’ve met many of these requirements, but he certainly wasn’t a noble. 

“That’s quite interesting,” you said. “I knew he seemed different. Well, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, my sweet.”

When the candlelight was extinguished, and the only sound left in the dead of night was that of the crickets chirping and the toads ribbeting, you were left in solitude with your thoughts. These thoughts were not new, of course. They were visions of the outside world, beyond the castle walls and the walls of the kingdom. They hung somewhere between consciousness and dream, but your thoughts were intentional, purposeful. You thought of the trees, the flowers, the little streams. You thought of the deer and the birds and the butterflies, every beautiful thing you hadn’t seen since the Scourge began. That plague had taken everything from you, your mother, your freedom, your peace of mind.

Others had it much worse, of course, and you knew that, but that didn’t ease your heartache. There were many nights you cried yourself to sleep, hoping your father couldn’t hear, for he did what he did for good reason—he was terrified of losing you, his only child. 

But tonight, you didn’t cry at all. In fact, there was a strange sense of hope nestled in your heart, something you hadn’t felt in so many years. At first, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but as your head and your heart began to work together, you realized—it was the knight.

Not only was the knight a new addition to the court, but he was brave, a fighter. He would surely help you escape. 

Escape was something you’d thought of before, but now, it seemed within reach. Of course, you wouldn’t leave forever, just a day. Just a day outside the walls, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the soft grass underfoot. There wasn’t anyone else. The guards all pledged such strong allegiance to the king, they would surely inform him of your plans if you asked. The others weren’t skilled in combat, couldn’t keep you safe. No, the only solution was the knight. He would help you. Surely, he would help you. 

In your alone time, you often walked the corridors of the keep, as there wasn’t much else to do when you weren’t occupied by your books or your needlepoint. Today was no different, though the court was still excitable over the arrival of the duke last night. 

You tried to ignore that, instead keeping yourself in your thoughts as you wandered aimlessly, until your father’s panicked voice resounded from inside his cabinet, adjacent to his bedchamber. What you made out were the words, “How could this happen?!”

Curiosity overcame you, your boredom having been relentless. You looked around the corridor for a moment, ensuring no passersby would see you. The guards were at the other end of the hall, facing away from you. If you were quiet, no one would see you pressing your ear to the ornate wooden door. 

“Constable,” your father huffed, “are you quite sure?”

“Yes, your majesty,” spoke Lord Constable Aaron. “There have been reports of mysterious cloaked knights extorting citizens throughout the kingdom. They demand crops, livestock, women… They threaten murder if they don’t get their way, my liege. We had some isolated incidents in the past, but this past month, they’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you didn’t think it of import to tell the king?” questioned Lord Chancellor Gerald. “There hasn’t been crime like this in Alexandria since we closed our gates.”

“I didn’t want to worry his majesty with incidents of petty crime,” responded the constable. “But now… Well, a boy has been killed.”

“What?!” your father exclaimed. “Who?”

“Thomas Webb, son of the innkeeper, James. He was only sixteen… I’ve been told it was…”

The constable trailed off, his voice becoming shaky as he spoke. 

“Speak, Aaron,” demanded the king. 

The constable cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. You pressed your ear harder against the wood of the door, so much so that you feared a splinter. 

“Apologies, milord… It—it was a gruesome death, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Alexandria since the Dead breached our walls. But this wasn’t a dead man, it was a knight in black armor, their leader. We could hardly identify the boy, his head was… Well, your majesty, his head was obliterated.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, your hand quickly reaching up to catch it before it alerted the guards. 

“By God,” uttered the chancellor. “What kind of knight are we dealing with?”

“A knight wouldn’t commit a crime like that,” spoke an at first unfamiliar voice, but you quickly identified it as that of the duke. “No, not any kind of true knight. A dishonored one, maybe.”

“It’s of no concern to me what this man’s status is,” said the king. “All I care about is protecting my people. Constable, I need strengthened security across the kingdom, especially in the merchant district. Something tells me these marauders are targeting the middle and lower classes. I also want tighter security at the outer curtain. No one should be entering or leaving the kingdom without my permission, and if they’re entering clandestinely, there must be a blind spot or a chink in our armor. If the living can get in, the Dead can, too. Get it sorted. There will be no more of this… obliterating in my kingdom, understand?”

“Absolutely, your majesty. We’ll double up our defenses. This won’t happen again… Oh, and… There is one more thing.”

“What is it?” asked the king. “I have very little time for idle conversation today, constable.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your majesty, but… Well, this is quite important. The knight in black armor left a message with one of our guards, just before he… chopped off his arm.” 

Your lips trembled with fear. How could a man do such a thing? And this man was in your kingdom, hurting your people. It was horrifying. That poor guard, you thought. That poor boy… Oh, that poor, poor boy. 

“Good lord!” huffed the king. “All right, what is it?”

The constable cleared his throat as you heard a crinkling of paper. “Your majesty,” the constable read from the letter, “let this be a first warning, an introduction of sorts. My name is Sir Negan of House Smith, my people are the Saviors. If you cooperate with me, there will be no more bloodshed, but if you go against me, I will plunder and pillage this pretty kingdom until the streets are soaked red. I ask, or demand, rather, for one thing: your daughter.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[guilty-pleasures21]

Chapter 1 - the ... proposition

Part A

Part B

Warnings: none.

----------------------------------------------------------

     Miguel slid off his horse and began leading him the rest of the way to the stables, the both of them panting happily at the exercise they’d just gone through. It had been a fine morning for a ride, the sky cloudless, the sun glowing, and he didn’t think his day could possibly get any better. But then a flash of yellow caught his eye and his lips widened at the sight. “Hola, princesa.” 

     X narrowed her eyes at Miguel before turning back to her horse and feeding her the last slice of apple in her hand. “I’ve told you before, Miguel, you can’t call me that.” 

     “Why not?” Miguel asked, guiding his hulking black stallion into the stall beside her horse’s. “You are a princess: the princess of cotton.”

Her father owned the largest cotton plantation in the British empire back in their homeland of Punjab. His business had become so successful that he’d amassed enough wealth to move his family to the UK when X had been only ten years old, ferrying them away from the rising tensions that had been building between the Indians and the British for the past few years. He’d purchased the estate right beside Miguel’s stepfather’s and the two families had been neighbours ever since. Miguel grinned as X sighed, fully aware that any response she gave would only spur him on further, then he locked the gate on his horse’s stall before moving closer to her.

“How’s Asha?” he asked.

     The pretty palomino mare gave a happy nicker as Miguel ran his hand down her nose, then she trotted over to the end of her stall to greet Miguel’s horse. 

     “She’s fine,” X replied, the corner of her lips curling as she watched the way the two horses nuzzled one another in affection. “And Zeus?” 

     “As virile as always.” Miguel flashed X an impish grin and she returned it with another exasperated glance before she began walking out of the stables. Their horses had already bred a year ago, the two of them producing a beautiful young foal between them, but they just couldn’t seem to get enough of one another. Miguel strode forward, easily making up the distance between the both of them. “You aren’t going riding today?” 

     X shook her head. “We still have a few things left to pack before leaving for the city tomorrow. Are you ready for the Season?”

     The London Season: high society’s own ‘mating season’. The time of the year when mother hens would parade their unmarried daughters around with the single-minded goal of finding them a respectable husband. Miguel gave an exaggerated sigh at the reminder of it. “As ready as I ever am.” 

     X scoffed at his glum tone. “Please. Don’t act like you don’t love all the attention every eligible young woman of the society showers upon you every year.”

     Her dashing and strapping neighbour had never suffered from a shortage of options when it came to his future wife, even despite the tanned skin and dark features he’d inherited from his immigrant mother. In fact, his foreign looks only seemed to draw more admiring glances his way. 

     “Don’t be jealous, princesa,” Miguel teased her, shooting her that roguish smile that would have had any other young lady going weak in the knees. “You know you will always be my number one.” 

     X rolled her eyes as he gave her a cheeky wink and had just opened her mouth to respond when a butler rushed up to them. 

     “My lord!” The man gave Miguel a quick bow before gesturing to the mansion behind him. “Your mother requests that you meet her in the drawing room! Right away!” 

     Miguel exchanged a curious look with X, then tipped his head towards her in farewell. “Until tomorrow, my lady.” 

     “Until then, my lord.” She gave him a small curtsy, then waited until he’d disappeared into his house before starting down the path to her own estate. 

     “Miguel!” The Baroness gasped when she saw her son and shot out of her seat to beckon her towards him. Miguel shot her a quizzical expression, his confusion growing when he noticed the unfamiliar elderly gentleman seated across from her. He nodded at the man in greeting, then took his seat beside his mother. 

     “Yes, mamá?” 

     Carolina settled herself back into her seat, then gestured to the man on the opposite settee. “Miguel, this is Mr Pemberly. Mr Pemberly, this is my son, Miguel. Please, tell him what you told me.” 

     She clutched her son’s arm as she waited for the man - Mr Pemberly - to begin speaking and Miguel felt his insides tighten with nerves. The man sized him up and down, his judgemental gaze running over his and his mother’s foreign looks, and Miguel straightened, drawing himself up to his full, towering height. Mr Pemberley cleared his throat, then studied the papers he held in his hands. 

     “‘In this final will and testament’,” he recited, his voice firm, “‘I, Earl George Fitzroy of Langford, do hereby recognise Miguel, son of the Baroness Carolina of Femroy, as my legitimate son by birth.” He paused to let Miguel digest the news and Miguel found himself relieved for the moment of silence. 

     His father. His birth father. The man he’d asked his mother about so many times before and the man whose identity she had refused to reveal every single time. And now … now he’d never even get the chance to meet him. His mother gave him a light pat on the knee, shaking him out of his reverie, then she turned back to Mr Pemberley. 

     “Please, continue, Mr Pemberley.” 

     “Right.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose, then returned his attention to the will before him. “In his will, your late father has declared you - alongside your half-brother Lord Frederick Fitzroy - as his rightful heirs. Provided, however, you fulfil a few … stipulations.” 

     Miguel furrowed his brows, confused, and Mr Pemberley took that as his cue to press forward. 

     “In the event of my death, my title and all its associated assets shall be passed down to whichever of my two sons successfully manages to secure an engagement by the end of the Season in the year of or following my death,” Mr Pemberely read. “If both or neither manages this task, then my title shall fall to my son Frederick, whilst both he and his half-brother Miguel shall share my assets equally between the two of them.” 

     He carried on after that, going through some of the other legalities associated with Miguel making a claim to his inheritance, but he’d stopped listening by that point, all the surrounding noise drowned out by the rapid pounding of his heart. He was to inherit a title and an estate? From a father he hadn’t even known existed for more than half his life? Would he finally have something to his name; something to call his now and forevermore? But wait. An engagement? Was that what the lawyer had said? 

     “My apologies, Mr Pemberley,” Miguel interrupted him quickly, “but would you mind repeating the part about the engagement?” 

     “Certainly,” Mr Pemberley assured him. “If you are to have any chance of inheriting your father’s estate, you must find a bride by the end of the Season, my lord. If not, you may only lay claim to your inheritance if your brother is unable to find a bride.” He gave Miguel a knowing look, as if suggesting that the task would be no problem for the legitimate firstborn son of the Earl, and Miguel felt his insides twist into a knot. 

     “Oh, I’m sure that will be no problem for my Miguel,” Carolina reassured him, her grip on her son’s arm firm. “You may begin drafting the appropriate documents for the inheritance, Mr Pemberley, my son will have his bride by the end of the Season.”

     She turned to Miguel, a determined look on her face, and gave him a resolute nod. “We will make sure of it.” 

Continue

[shadowland]

Emmylou Harris interview by Cameron Crowe Rolling Stone, June 19, 1975

Fame Catches Up with Emmylou

Los Angeles – Guitar in hand, Gram Parsons sat in his road manager’s Laurel Canyon home and coached singer Emmylou Harris through the harmonies of the old Burritos classic, “Sin City.” Later, after she’d excused herself for a visit to the kitchen, Parsons grinned proudly. “There she is,” he said, “that’s my kick in the ass, keep an eye on her.”

That was in 1973. Now, two years later, Harris’s first major solo effort, Pieces of the Sky, has done well and her current club and concert tour (augmented by a band featuring Elvis’s guitarist James Burton and his keyboard player Glen D. Hardin) is drawing unanimous raves. But Emmylou Harris, it seems, is the last to catch up with Emmylou Harris. Still a bit dazed over Parsons’s untimely death in the fall of ’73, the 28-year-old singer is only now waking up to the reality of a successful solo career.

“I know what’s happening but it hasn’t really hit me yet,” she drawls softly, curled up on the sofa of a West Hollywood hotel room. Two nights earlier, she’d enthralled a capacity Palomino Club audience that included such luminaries as Bonnie Raitt, Maria Muldaur, Lowell George, Commander Cody, Joni Mitchell and Linda Ronstadt (for whose recent country hit, “I Can’t Help It” Harris provided the strong counter harmony). “I guess it’s just been a kind of long hard road. In a way I’ve been at this for almost ten years on almost all kinds of levels – from waiting tables to playing in New York clubs and not having anybody listen to me, to making a terrible first record for a bankrupt company to working with Gram.

“I suppose working with Gram was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me,” she continues. “There was just something very magical about the experience. It was so much fun to just get up there, sing with him, and not worry about carrying a show myself. Everyone paid all this attention to me and told me how good I was and all that. It was really like being some kind of fairytale princess. Somehow that affected me more than all this that’s happening now.” She lets her words settle for a moment, then decides on a quip. “Maybe I’m on time delay.”

Born in Alabama and raised in Virginia, Harris remembers a reputation of being a “real prig” in high school. “I was considered to be a kind of oddball. You know, always studying and making good grades. Singing began as a social thing. I realized when I started singing at parties people began noticing me. High schools are real hip now, everybody’s cool, but there was a counter-culture in Woodbridge, Virginia, in 1963. You were either a homecoming queen or  a real weirdo. Here I was a 16-year-old Wasp, wanting to quit school and become Woody Guthrie.”

Instead, Harris made it to the University of North Carolina on a drama scholarship. Using free time to play off-campus bars in a folk duo, she lasted a year and a half before applying to the more prestigious drama department at Boston University. “I was gonna work as a waitress in Virginia Beach for a while to get enough tuition money,” she recalls. “But there was an incredible little music scene going on down there. That’s when I got serious about singing.”

Harris never made it to Boston U. “I thought I was going to get married. My first big love below up in my face, so I just went to New York ’cause there was nothing else to do. I was greener than green. I got a room at the YWCA, started going to the Village, playing basket houses [pass-the-hat-clubs] and just . . . hangin’ out.”

In two years of scuffling around New York, Emmylou made some valuable friends like singers Jerry Jeff Walker and David Bromberg. “Besides turning me on to country music, they sort of looked out for me,” she says. “Even so, I must have had some protective kind of bubble around me. I used to walk home from gigs on dark streets at two in the morning with my guitar and never think anything of it. Looking back, I get scared to death.”

Harris’s first album (on the now defunct Jubilee records), recorded in New York just after her marriage, is one she’d like to forget. “I was trying to keep it a secret,” she laughs (ironically, since the 1970 release was titled Emmylou Harris). “I hope somebody in authority will be able to buy the masters and burn them. Everybody involved with that record hated everybody else and I was in the middle trying to keep the peace. It was a disaster.”

Several months after recording, “the worst possible thing any girl could ever do to her budding career” happened. Harris became pregnant with her child, Hallie. “Up until then,” she admits, “my life had been a little too nebulous, I had no clear vision at all. The pregnancy, although it wasn’t planned, gave me something very real and something present to relate to.”

Later, with her marriage broken and ten dollars in her pocket, the protectiveness of motherhood, soon drove Harris out of New York. “I didn’t know where I was gonna go, but I knew I had to get a job and make some money. By accident I got back into music through some friends, Billy and Kathy Danoff [writers of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’]. They were still living in their basement apartment with all the cockroaches running around. They were the ones that put a guitar in my hands and ordered me onstage again.”

It was early ’71 when Flying Burrito Brothers guitarist Rick Roberts stumbled onto Harris performing in a small Washington D.C. bar called the Red Fox. The next night, Roberts brought the rest of the Burritos down for a look. They invited her to join the band; before she could accept, the Burritos had dissolved.

“Chris Hillman,” Emmylou remembers, “wanted to come out to L.A. so he could produce some demo tapes. He was really busy at the time. Anyway, I think it probably worked out the way it should have.” The way it worked out was for Hillman to turn on Gram Parsons, the Burritos’ long estranged cofounder, to their incredible discovery. Months later, Parson dropped in on one of Harris’s many D.C appearances and made a few vague promises. A year later, Parsons invited her to L.A. to sing on his first solo album, GP. Their partnership quickly intensified. “It was gonna be a Dolly Parton-Porter Wagoner situation. We didn’t see any need to break up that partnership because we really got higher on what we did together than anything we did separately. I still feel that way.”

It was hard work, she says, that kept her from slipping into an extended depression. “Gram’s death was like falling off a mountain. It was a very hard year between his death and the recording of my album [Pieces of the Sky]. A year of throwing myself into a lot of work that my heart wasn’t really into. There was a lot of stumbling involved. I was playing quite a few bars and was in a real vulnerable position. People felt that they could come up and ask me anything. I used to get hostile. It  hurt. I didn’t want to get emotional around some perfect stranger who had the goddamn gall to come up and ask me something that was none of his goddamn business.”

The subject brings her close to tears. “Gram was such an amazing part of my life. I have so many good memories of him, it seems pointless to dwell on the tragedy of it.” Abruptly, she reaches to turn up the country station already blaring from a hotel room radio. “Do you like Conway Twitty?” she asks. “I just love the harmony on this.”

Pieces of the Sky was almost a year long project in itself. Emmylou for one could not be more proud. With the help of Anne Murray’s ex-producer Brian Ahern, great care was taken in selecting material. “I’m just starting to write again,” says Harris. “I don’t mind the fact that I only wrote one song [“Boulder to Birmingham,’ cowritten with Bill Danoff] on the album. There are just too many tunes that I get off doing and want to turn people on to. I feel very deeply and personally involved with each one, so I don’t miss that writer’s identity of making a statement.

“I think any singer feels that way,” Harris says about choosing songs like the Everly Brothers’ “Sleepless Nights,” the Beatles’ “For No One”and Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors.” Like Linda [Ronstadt]. When she sings a song it’s really sung. Nobody cares that she doesn’t write; the delivery’s all that really matters.”

Besides a heavy touring schedule and the summer recording of her next album, Emmylou Harris spunkily refuses to acknowledge the long-range future. “A lot of my life has been circumstance. The future just doesn’t exist for me. You’re not responsible for decisions if you don’t make them.

“What do I see in the future?” Harris asks, reaching for the telephone. “A chocolate shake. Hello, Room Service?”

[thecglcatalog]

Rocking Horses for Regression Time

Choose baby’s very best new friend from our stable of beautiful adult-sized rocking horses.  

“Bony Pony” the Classic Hobby Horse.  Plush head with bright glass eyes, soft-touch pink nostrils, and fluffy forelock stands above a mini barrel body.  The ribs of the barrel are super-prominent, ensuring that baby notices every detail of the wooden shape under their bottom and privates!  Simple wooden pole neck and legs; fluffy plush tail.  Specify Bony Pony’s coat color: bay, palomino, black/white pinto.

“Rector” the Dildo Horse.  Massy, beautifully crafted rocking horse of carved oak has subtle multicolor stain details, oil-rubbed finish … and a pair of sockets for holding any of our screw-adapter dildos!  One adapter is on the back of the saddle to slide up baby’s bottom; the other is between Rector’s hind legs for storage and display.

“Razorback” the Beam Rocker.  Massive square beam of reclaimed wood sits at an angle between this rocking horse’s faux wood shoulders and hindquarters – an angle that means there’s a painful corner right on top.  Gorgeously sculpted details come in choice of Oak or Mahogany tones; we let the beam keep its natural weathering, only giving it a quick waterproof coating.

“Wildflower” the Modern Resin Pony.  The body and head of this gorgeously cottagecore rocking horse are a single piece of crystal-clear cast resin.  Real dried flowers are strewn prettily inside!  An especially dark pansy represents the eye.  All edges – including the one where little one’s weight will rest – are rounded and just an inch wide.  Wildflower’s body locks into perpendicular leg pieces that then meet a single-piece wooden rocker foot.  Imagine your baby rocking on this horsie in front of a sunny window – just beautiful!  Billowing soft-touch mane and tail come in your choice of color – black, chestnut, flax, or even pale pink.

“Fantasie” the Steel Unicorn.  Beautifully minimalist geometric sculpture of a horse made from welded two-inch steel conduit bars has splendid sculpted ears, swirly horn blunt enough for dildo use, and a mane and tail of softly chiming chains.  Rider balances their crotch on a single strong steel bar.  Specify chain style: matching steel, gold-tone steel, sapphire rhinestone, pink rhinestone, black beaded.  Rockers and horn are steel finished to match the chains!

“Penny” the Potty Pony.  A rocking horse for those adult babies who just aren’t ready to hold their water throughout playtime.  Attractive, lightweight resin carousel horse front and back become a sturdy wire frame in the middle.  This frame supports a hard, smooth waterproof bicycle seat with narrow front to put pressure on the crotch.  Place a vessel between the rockers to catch any accidents while baby enjoys their time in the saddle.  Specify seat and detail color: Princess Pink Sparkle, Yellow Confetti.

“Jock” the Breeding Pony.  Special wooden horse has detailed legs of carved oak that support a leather-upholstered bench.  Arrange baby in a bottoms-up “jockey seat” over the bench – there are leather kneepads behind Jock’s hind legs – and pull up the waist belt from below to secure them in place.  They’re sure to find that your grown-up guests are happy to help them play on the rocking horse!  Jock’s neck is hollow at the back, too, allowing riders to rest their heads inside of the neck while exposed from the shoulders down.  His finely carved head wears a beautiful leather bridle.

And don't forget Rocking Horse Accessories to make this special nursery centerpiece more functional!

Adjustable Rocking-Horse Girth.  When baby can’t be trusted to keep playing on the horsie like you told them, wrap this super-adjustable velcro girth around the rocking horse’s withers!  Super-strong integrated steel snaps hold a pair of cuffs to wrap around baby’s calves, keeping feet off the floor.  For a more severe version, cuff baby’s ankles there instead so knees have to stay up!  Top snap holds matching wrist cuffs, or swap them out for baby’s own cuffs or mitts.

Virtually indestructible nylon version comes in choice of Powder Blue, Deep Red, Light Burlap, or Tactical Black.  Gorgeous leather version takes a little more care to keep it from cracking with rough use, but we think it’s worth it!  Choose Milk Chocolate or Buckskin shades.

Auto-Rocker.  Foot pedal with side timing controls depresses just enough with a press of Daddy, Master, or Grammy’s foot – slides under one of the rockers – and gives it a slight mechanical kick every time the weight of the rocker swings back onto it.  Horsie keeps on “running” for anywhere from ten minutes to eight hours, even if baby manages to hold still!

Sound-Damping Rocker Platform.  Low-rise platform has a tough, smooth surface of hard rubber with just the right friction for satisfying rocking – and soundproofing underlayer so your little can be assigned a session on the rocking horse at any hour without bothering you in the next room, let alone downstairs neighbors.  Specify frame color: Oak, Satin Black.  Specify rubber color: Princess Pink Sparkle, Yellow Confetti, Matte Black.

Rocker Risers.  Made from heavy molded plastic with grip rubber feet, Rocker Risers sit under each rocking “leg” to raise the rocking horse by 24 inches – enough that most riders won’t be able to reach the floor and must balance their full weight on pony’s back.  Specify color: Fire Truck Red, French Blue, Silver Sheen

[topazadine]

OC Fun Facts Tag

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling! I particularly liked that your villain has a New Jersey accent lmao.

I'll do five fun facts for each of my main characters.

Uileac Korviridi

His favorite Bremish festival (predictably) is Feast of the Horse, particularly the mounted archery competition. I mean duh. He makes everyone else look like pathetic losers.

He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but Cerie does, so their house is usually filled with all manner of sweets.

Uileac has a bunch of weird little rituals he does before battle, like making sure he has an even number of arrows (lucky) and brushing his horse Erix's armor with blessed oils. I mean, I guess they've worked? He hasn't died yet ....

One would expect such a dextrous man would play an instrument, but he doesn't, he's too busy to learn. Though he thinks the fiddle is pretty cool.

If he did not have his beloved palomino mare Erix, he'd probably want a dapple gelding.

Orrinir Relickim

Even though he went through all the same training as Uileac did, Orrinir has never figured out how to fire a bow. No amount of training seems to make it stick.

His favorite Bremish festival is the Feast of Saint Mermina, where people throw flower votives of the saint into the water and swimmers try to retrieve them. Every damn year, Uileac intentionally designs his so they fall apart, but poor Orrinir tries anyway.

Orrinir LOVES to bake. He's very proud of his manly and cool creations in the kitchen. You know, like little apple dumplings shaped like hearts. Incredibly manly. Very brave.

Because he does not drink much, Orrinir is a total lightweight. As such, he typically is the responsible non-drinker who escorts his mildly drunk husband Uileac and embarrassingly drunk sister-in-law Cerie home.

Orrinir has been known to play around with a mini piano (kalimba) on occasion, usually when bored out in the field. He likes it because you don't really need any musical knowledge to get it to work.

Haniya Aina

Haniya is EXACTLY what you think when you think "horse girl." Kinda snobby, convinced that she has a unique bond with horses that no one else in the world could ever fathom, and obsessed with the latest and greatest in tack trends. Her horse Saelsie has tack that costs more than most peoples' houses, and can you blame her? Girlie is a literal princess.

Because her mother, Queen Susuma, was essentially absent throughout her childhood, Haniya was raised by governesses and teachers.

She loves music boxes and has quite a collection. Diplomats who want to get in her mother's good graces know to bring Haniya a pretty music box for her trouble. One of her favorites has a mechanical dancing horse.

Haniya's brother, Prince Daiski, was meant to learn fencing, but Haniya, who actually wanted to learn it, was told it wasn't a "women's skill." As such, she lied to Daiski about when his practices were supposed to be and showed up instead, threatening the instructor into silence. Those were her favorite childhood memories.

Her favorite books are about faraway lands, especially travel logs of distant places. Any time that a diplomat comes to visit her mother, she corners them and picks their brain.

Ono Kagan

Ono, being deeply socially awkward, is more comfortable around animals than people. Even animals that he's rather scared of, like dogs.

His first romantic/sexual relationship is with his wife, Vinanna, who is charmed by how sweet and shy he is. YES! The pathetic virgin gets the pretty girl!

The average Sinan outside of the upper classes is illiterate, but Ono taught himself after becoming a royal guard by taking shifts guarding the library. There, he read the children's books that Haniya and her siblings would have been told as children before working his way up to more difficult texts.

His most prized possession is his sword, Melikik ("the sea cutter"), made by his father, a blacksmith.

Ono can't hold his liquor. Like at all.

Mordrek Willets

Mordrek is somehow both the straightest and the least homophobic person in all of Sina. Gay men serve as great wingmen, and lesbians can teach him even more ways to romance a beautiful woman. Bisexuals? Why, he admires anyone who has enough eyes to ogle both sides.

He considers his mule, Carrot, to be his best friend and closest confidante. Carrot gets the best of everything, even when Mordrek can't afford to feed himself.

His greatest fear is heights. Maybe that's why Queen Susuma keeps sending him to high-altitude places.

Mordrek is agnostic. He jokes that all the gods probably hate him, so he doesn't want to believe they exist.

Though Mordrek gambles on occasion, he only plays games that he knows he can win with his wiles. Or by paying someone to fix the game for him.

Cerie Korviridi

Cerie is one of the most irritating overachievers you will ever meet. When she's working on something, you better leave her alone or you're going to get your head bit off.

Sometimes she likes to daydream about what she would have been if she didn't become a High Poet. Her top three alternate professions are horse trainer, potter, and leatherworker.

Cerie is messy af and is always forgetting where she put stuff. Orrinir yells at her about it all the time.

She's a night owl, which is unusual in a country that doesn't have artificial light like Breme. She just likes it when all the world is asleep and she can focus on whatever she wants to do.

Her favorite festival is the Feast of Snow Lights, where people go around and recite two-line traditional poems; if the homeowner misremembers it, they have to give the guest a drink. She, of course, has them all memorized, but sometimes she'll come up with her own just to screw with people, and then they have to call a "truce" and both give each other something.

Tagging @drchenquill, @the-golden-comet, @mysticstarlightduck, @davycoquette, and open tag

[puissantveil]

Brief notes on MK rides:

MK11:

Johnny Cage always has the douchiest car possible in any timeline.

Kitana Kahn excels at handling mounts, drawing from the Mongol influence on Outworld, Shao Kahn, and the Tarkatans. She has one of those goofy little Outworld horses, a mare named Zuzu.

Skarlet has a very fluffy Bactrian camel that she loves lots.

Jade has a mount that is emphatically not a horse or even an equine; rather, it's either an antelope or a big cat.

Nightwolf has a sweet-ass motorcycle, the kind of hog that would make a Hell's Angel weep.

Erron named his horse Bluebonnet, because Texas. She's one of the few creatures he wouldn't ditch for better pay.

MK1:

Outworld has a ton of different mounts: different kinds of antelope, dairy animals, ratites, and massive canines, all bred for the saddle. There are also flying creatures such as manticores and rocs, and, if you're very lucky, you might be chosen by a simurgh or a qilin.

There are no saddle felines. Have you seen the way cats' shoulders go up and down? You'd be falling off 24/7.

We see carriage horses in the announcement trailer (ngl, I'm going to miss those weird dogs from MK11) I can't quite catch their coat colors, but their butts and tails suggest they're palomino.

It's tempting to headcanon Kitana as riding a horse, because they come in so many colors, and what's a princess without a stunning horse? On the other hand, non-horse mounts are dope as shit, and an oryx or stag would be really cool.

Tanya absolutely rides an antelope, either an eland or a kudu.

Li Mei rides her shishi.

No one's 100% sure what Mileena's mount is, only that it's terrifying and she probably found it in the Flesh Pits.

*A ratite is an ostrich-like bird, and the simurgh is a canine-headed bird from Persian mythology, foster mother of the hero Zac and able to grant wishes. An oryx is also an antelope, speculated to be the "unicorn" of the KJV Bible (translated as "wild bulls" in the Catholic versions).

[a-bowl-of-horses]

My horses

Cap’n Crunch - dun blanket Appaloosa gelding

Gets along well with everyone. A good boy. Sometimes he makes a fuss if you don’t give him enough treats though.

Cheerio - cremello thoroughbred mare

My first horse. Very picky eater. Loves hay and carrots, hates apples and corn. Will pitch a fit if you don’t feed her what she likes.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch - sorrel peacock Appaloosa mare

Pretty as HELL. Seriously, look at her. She’s well-behaved too. Not a picky eater, unlike Cheerio. She’ll eat anything. Even my hair. Especially my hair. I advise you wear a hat, or put it in a bun if it’s long.

Cocoa Puffs - brown Clydesdale gelding

Big softie. Way more scared of you than you’re scared of him. It’s Fruity Pebbles you should be scared of really.

Cookie Crisp - buckskin sabino paint horse mare

A sweet girl, when she wants to be. Usually she keeps to herself. When she’s feeling mischievous, she’s an expert at spooking Cocoa Puffs.

Frosted Flakes - dapple palomino quarter horse gelding

A pretty chill guy. Sleeps more often than the other horses. Vet says he’s fine, just lazy.

Fruity Pebbles - strawberry roan Icelandic mare

Total princess. Queen of sass. Will bite you. Bites me at any opportunity she can get. She’s a little bitch. I love her anyway.

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Empires s2 characters and what horse they'd have

Hi. Brainrot about empires and a longstanding fixation on horses led to this. Enjoy <3

(it's a long post btw)

Let's start with the obvious. Sheriff Jimmy Solidarity.

Now obviously he has Bullseye and Arrow, however! I would like to debate their breeds for a bit. I think that while Bullseye has a pattern similar to that of a snowflake leopard appaloosa, I believe he's a full Quarter Horse (normally known as an American Quarter Horse) Fast, turns on a dime, and have a good head on their shoulders. Often used on ranches and such because they're good all rounders while being sturdy and dependable.

(Below has correct coloring)

(Below has correct breed/conformation)

Arrow would be a Quarter Horse/Arabian Cross, for the speed and coordination of the Quarter, and the endurance and heat tolerance of the Arabian.

Now lets talk about the other person with a horse like companion. Princess Katherine.

She has a Unicorn (half skeleton horse??), that is all white. I think she would have a cremello Saddlebred. They're a gaited breed (fancy walk, showy gait) and very flashy. Cremello is a hard color to get, therefore about as valuable as a unicorn /j

Princess Gem

I love Apollo as much as anyone, however if he were a horse, he would absolutely be a Belgian Draft (specifically a bay). They are big, strong, and were first horses of war (factcheck) then adapted to plow horses. With Dawn's canonical beginnings, I believe a draft would have been a great help in the fields.

Great Witch Shelby

She lives in the swamp, which is not great for horses. However, a pony could fit through the many hanging vines and manuever easier through narrow pathways. I think she would have a Kerry Bog Pony. They're surefooted, hardy, and sound ponies that have a long rich history, but the most important part is that they're used to navigating softer ground because of their origins/home of Kerry (Ireland)

Joel, God of Lore

Show off, big, strong, bull headed. Normally, I would never let someone who's (supposedly) 11 feet tall ride any horse, because the weight would be harmful to them. However, I would assign him a Clydesdale. Flashy, easy to remember, and definitely the kind of horse you would get attention for. They're also usually patient enough to put up with any inconsistencies or surprises from their riders.

Fwhip

Shetland Pony. Small, used to pull carts in mines, and feisty as all get out. No further explanation needed XD

Pixlriffs

I would assign him a mule, as stereotypical as it is. Theyre a very dependable creature, used for packing and riding, and are very sure footed even on mountainous terrain. Overall steady, even if they are stubborn.

Mayor Lizzie

Halflingers are ponies only by breed, not by size (14 hands or under is considered a pony, however there are certain exceptions). They're all palominos, and all sturdy and stout. They have a variety of personalities, but are usually a favored mount by shorter riders. I think theyre overall steadiness and stubbornness would be good to balance out any uh. feline traits from Lizzie, but they would still match her in fierceness.

Scott

Now he would have a blanket Appaloosa. Hands down. Do I need to explain? (specifically a chestnut blanket appaloosa <3)

Oli

He would have an old, run of the mill, done with life, tolerant to the point of apathy, POA (Pony of America. ...its a mutt horse that is short.) Probably one that Fwhip sold to him for an extended debt. I think it would probably be a Chestnut, with a supressed sass to it.

False

She's so nervous all the time, I think I would give her a retired ranch horse (thus, likely a quarter horse) that could take care of her and lead her back home from wherever they were. It would have seen everything, and probably been used for hunting at least once, therefore any (totally random) blood would be no problem! /hj I think she would probably have an unassuming bay, with a lighter brown coloration to it's body.

Pirate Joe

Seahorse /j.

In all seriousness, I think I would give him a Paint Chincoteague (shink-o-teeg) Pony. They cross the ocean every year for the round up, and I can absolutely picture Pirate Joe finding a pony on an island and claiming it was the treasure he was meant to find (sea pony!! never been seen before! /j). They can eat seaweed, and iirc they frequently do. Firecrackers they are. Fiesty things with a good heart.

Sausage

I think he would have a Grey Andalusian (grey as in the specific horse color, not the actual color grey). The Andalusian is an elegant horse that was originally a war horse, but has since evolved into a beloved riding horse. They're all rounders, and very majestic looking. Tall, strong, and beautiful, I think that they would be a good fit for the story that Mythical J. Sausage has going on in season 2.

And that's all of them! Of course, giving them all horses would be unreasonable given current story lines, but I thought that it was fun, and a very enjoyable project ^-^

[never-bland-in-wonderland]

List of names(No OCs involved): Mathilda Lugo Minaya Alistair Lugo Minaya Adaire Rabbit(White Rabbit) Osmin Cabrera Orellana(Doorknob) William Dodo(Dodo) Tweedle Dum Chapman Tweedle Dee Chapman Bill Lizard Rose Redd Iris Ghoshal Daisy Asano Espinoza Idris Caterpillar(Caterpillar) Paz Palomino(Bird in the tree) Cheshire Gines Flores(Cheshire Cat) Souta Hatter(Mad Hatter) Kasem Hare(March Hare) Queen Mirana Contessa Basilio of Hearts(Queen of Hearts) King Camilo Jardinez Amaral of Hearts(King of Hearts) Mary Ann Dilag Duchess Ceciliane Escobar Bravo(The Duchess) Sir Edward Gooden Queen Ramira Contessa Basilio of Spades(Queen of Spades) Queen Adoncia Basilio Montalván of Diamonds(Queen of Diamonds) Queen Lola Basilio Montalván of Clubs(Queen of Clubs) Katz Gines Flores Alice Lugo Gines Books Ferguson "Fergie" Rabbit Hattie Hatter Princess Rosa Contessa Acosta of Hearts Queen Valentina Corazon Contessa Cariño of Hearts Cookie Books King Euxenio Contessa Jardinez of Hearts Queen Flora Maria Cariño Amoros of Hearts Orlah Rabbit(Mama Rabbit) Stew Green Maeve Rabbit(Older sister rabbit) Dominick Rabbit(Older brother rabbit) Teddy Rabbit(Green rabbit twin) Maisy Rabbit(Pink rabbit twin) Mother Rose Redd Jay Caterpillar Jojo Dodo Captain Charles Dodo Mako Hatter(Dad Hatter) Harry Hare Kiki Caterpillar Iris Ghoshal Daisy Asano Quipes Dandy Lee Thistle Cardoso Oliver Onion Dill Dafodil Daff Dafodil Tweedle Do Chapman Tweedle Don't Chapman Saeed Parvaneh Ravan Parvaneh Ribitton Frog The Silver Queen Sylvia Osei of Looking-Glass Land Kyra Knight Milly Carpenter Wally Walrus Sakura Shinkawa Jacques Tortelle

[holy-puckslibrary]

KAT 🥹🥹 ty for always championing my slutty cowboy ratty fantasy <3 @tkachvkmatthew

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (writing masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[malibu-barb]

Trixie's Happy New Year Cocktails at TITS at 6pm CST

Trixie DJ set at the Eagle in ATL on Saturday 7 Jan

Trixie Cosmetics Night Time Realness drops Friday 13 at 10 am PST

Trixie will be at GLOSS! Valentines Day in Weho, 14 February from 9pm onwards

Trixie and Katya Live rescheduled leg starts 16 Feb - 8 March (11 shows)

Trixie and Katya Bald and Beautiful podcast, live at the Auditoriun Theatre, Chicago, IL on 24 February

Trixie Mattel, dj'ng at Beauty Bar, Chicago, IL on 24 February

Trixie Mattel Pink Disco LA, Thursday 16 March at Zebulon

Trixie Mattel, DJ set at Meatballs Fat Slut St Patrick's Day at Precinct

Trixie Mattel Pink Disco Tour starts in Perth finishing Easter weekend in Sydney on 9 April (6 shows)

Katya Zamolodchikova, Artist Talk, April 8, MassArt - 6pm to 7.30pm

Trixie Mattel, DJ set at Evita - 22 April with Jaida Essence Hall

Trixie will be performing live at Palomino Stagecoach Festival on Friday 28 April.

Trixie will be at Trixie Motel, 29 April for Cocktails from 4-7 pm

Trixie will be at Trixie Motel, 30 April for Pink Pony Pool Party from 11am to 3pn

Trixie Mattel, Pink Disco music video taping

Katya Zamolodchikova's birthday - 1 May 1982

Trixie and Katya Bald and Beautiful podcast, live at The Novo, LAX on 13 May *(CANCELLED TBC)

Katya will be at Sydney Drag Expo 19-21 May *(CANCELLED)

Trixie Cosmetics Pillow Princess collection drops 26 May at 10am PT

Katya will headline at TITS on 31 May, for Pride 2023 from 10 pm onwards *(POSTPONED DATE TBC)

Veep presents Trixie and Katya Live - last show on June 1

Trixie Mattel, DJ set at Utah Pride, 2 June, Washington Square

Trixie Mattel, DJ set Solid Pink Disco at the Bourbon Room 12 June

Trixie Mattel, DJ Pink Disco Pier17, NY, June 22 w Katya Zamolodchikova

Trixie Mattel, will be at Gag the Party, July 20 at 10pm

Bald and Beautiful Live Fall Tour July - Dec 23. Tickets

Trixie is DJ at Rooftop Summer party on 28 July

Trixie Mattel's birthday - 23 August 1989

Trixie will be at Happy Land, PNE Amphitheater, 6 August

Katya will be at Drag Haus, Melbourne on 10 August (RESCHEDULED)

Palm Springs 🌴 Trixie Day is 1 Sep 2023

Trixie Mattel, Orville Peck - Pioneertown, California on 11-13 November

Trixie, Solid Pink Disco - Melbourne 2 Dec and Sydney 3 Dec

Trixie Mattel will be at Dreamland NYE 29-31 December.

Footnotes

Trixie and Katya in 2022

Trixie Mattel Pride 2023 DJ set

Bald and the Beautiful Podcasts (Spotify/ Apple Podcast come out before YouTube (which is usually the following day)).

Gooped Archives

[refabled]

APPEARANCE META.

FACE : fable has an extremely expressive face. she has big, disney princess eyes; they used to both be a very silvery/pale blue color, but since dying, her left eye is now mostly black. she has a tiny scar just under her left ear and one at the right corner of her mouth. her face freckles easily, and blushes even easier.

HAIR : fable's hair used to be a deep cinnamon-red, but now it's what I call a creamsicle shade, a sort of gingery-orange. there's a couple strands of pale blonde at the front of her bangs and framing her face. her hair falls to her chest and is typically styled in small and large braids, except during down-time. unlike her avatar, fable also has bangs (or a fringe) cutting across her forehead. in her epilogue, I foresee her cutting her hair to just around her chin, and dyeing it back the same shade it used to be. unfortunately, the pale strands of blonde/white remain and can't be colored over.

BODY : first of all, she's 5'5". fable's body type is based on her body claim (halcybella, a cosplayer). she's got a slight pear-shaped ratio, where her hips are wider than her chest, but equal to her shoulders. fable's got a strength of 16, so definitely above average, and this is visible most in her thick thighs and arms. fable has a small chest, probably around a b cup at most. her ass is toned and has a great shape to it. and as for whether she's shaved or not, she likely isn't, though she does maintain her hair down there and keeps it trim and neat. when settled down, she may shave/remove the hair otherwise, but certainly not while on the road. as for skin tone, it used to be a deep, beautiful shade (wip art here), but in the process of being reborn, it was changed into a pale, peachy tone (example here).

ANIMAL ASPECT : after receiving her sacred animal aspect, it manifests in patches of incredibly soft horse fur along her shoulders and knee-caps. the fur is patterned like a dappled palomino's.

TATTOOS : a meta on fable's facial tattoos can be found here. she has finger tattoos as well as the facial tattoos listed, including simplified antlers along her brow and forehead. in her epilogue, she'd also get a bunch of branching and flowering vines all down her left arm.

[4trackcassette]

well i said i wanted to do my top albums 2022 and that we should have a tag game sooo I'm inventing it myself. this is more the top 5 (ok. 6. Forgive me) albums that i actually listened to rather than my assertion of quality. but. Here goes.

Top 6 Albums*

*in no particular order.

Expert in a Dying Field by the Beths

Review: I've been a bit suprised by how much this album has been cropping up on EOY lists. 45 minutes of good rock music: insightful lyrics, catchy hooks, melancholy, and perfect pop/rock guitar. I feel like I could listen to this anywhere. I wouldn't say this is one of the greatest albums of all time or anything like that, but it's just a good and deeply enjoyable album, and I love it!!

Standout song: "Expert In A Dying Field"

Crash by Charli XCX

Review: Look, I didn't get into Charli XCX until this year. This album propelled Charli to my no1 workout artist. We all know she writes interesting pop bangers, and does great collabs, and manages to pack a lot into just a few words. This album is no different. A rare album that I enjoy listening in order, on shuffle, or just individual songs. Also Charli is REALLY hot in the Hot In It music video which isn't even on this album but I like it anyway. #hotgirlnation

Standout song: "Yuck"

Nymph by Shygirl

Review: This one was brought to me by Tumblr Peer Review. Also an album that I wish was longer but works sooo perfectly the way it is -- no song over 4 minutes and 12 songs clocking in just under 33 min. I feel like listening to thisis scratching an itch in my brain, all the way from the beginning. Again, listen to a lot of this when working out. Great production, and a great journey through so many different interesting sounds throughout the album.

Standout song: "Shlut"

Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain

Review: It's rare I get into an artist based on what they're saying on their music, but I suppose not much about Ethel Cain is standard. I saw her saying things like "You're behind the counter at a diner, taking someone's order, thinking about how your world just ended a couple of hours ago. Life just does not stop" and desscribing her work as overkill American melodrama, and "ridiculous, psychotic, psychedelic." My first response to this album was "this is an epic" -- it must be said that I love a concept album, especially ones based around a complex persona such as Ethel Cain herself. But, as you all know, I was also a Religious Studies major. I like music that reflects back on God in America just as well.

Standout song: "Sun Bleached Flies"

Bonus: I'll share this piece on her from Vogue as well.

MATRIARCHY NOW by Pussy Riot

Review: I've never been a Pussy Riot fan in my life, though I had some sort of vague positivity towards their art-collective punk. I also wouldn't describe myself as much into hyperpop...but, you know. I think like, if you're taking a serious analytical perspective, it's probably like, whatever sexual political pop jam packed with collabs. But I don't CARE because it FUCKS and I LOVE IT!!! And also because ending the album with Big Freedia sells me over any day of the week!!

Standout song: "PRINCESS CHARMING"

A Bit of Previous by Belle and Sebastian

Review: I love Belle and Sebastian. I'm probably most a fan of their first three albums, and have sporadic familiarity with the rest of their discography. That being said, this was probably the album of the summer to me. Like the rest of their work that I love, this is a beautiful album about togetherness and being an adult and a whole bunch of different sounds. Sometimes it's just nice to listen to an album that's nice, and this is one of them.

Standout song: "Prophets on Hold"

Bonus: I enjoyed this interview on the album with Stuart Murdoch on Switched on Pop.

Honorary mentions

Special by Lizzo, MUNA by MUNA, Laurel Hell by Mitski, Palomino by First Aid Kit, I Walked With You A Ways by Plains (Waxahatchee, Jess Williamson), Stay Proud of Me by NoSo, Caroline Shaw: Evergreen by Caroline Shaw and the Attacca Quartet, Bleed Out by The Mountain Goats, Only the Strong Survive by Bruce Springsteen, Dance Fever by Florence and the Machine

Top 5 songs:

"Free" by Florence and the Machine -- my favorite single of the year, easy. also my top song of the year. Every time I hear this, I want to dance with my arms out and my eyes closed.

"The Only Heartbreaker" by Mitski -- I liked both this and "Love Me More," though was vaguely disappointed most of the rest of the album. As you can tell, I love some good synth.

"About Damn Time" by Lizzo -- Never let it be said that I'm completely unaware of pop music!!!!!!!! This song is fun and bouncy and well, I can't help but love Lizzo!!!!!!!

"Out of My Head" by First Aid Kit -- I'm under no qualms about this being one of FAK's best but holy cow does this song click in my head. It's just folky and soaring in the perfect way. Gorgeous harmonies. Also, I like any song with the word "running" in it.

Soul Days (ft. Sam Moore) by Bruce Springsteen -- I love Bruce's old man voice, I love the Sam Moore feature, I love the songs he's covering. This one in particular I think is a tempting languish and just really lovely, easy listening.

I tag....@loiteringdiligently @krysten-knitter @thelittlebirdthatkeptsomanywarm @holdoncallfailed @commontrait @beginnersmind and anyone else who might want to. Of course none of u have to do it to indulge me or write as much as I did... but I always just like to see what people r listening to...

[iambittythings]

Today's beast is yesterday's Palomino companion. :) You can't just make one horse, they need friends.Palominos are one of those animals I think most people are just naturally drawn to. They're pretty, and people like that!

I think them looking like what we all imagined was a Princess Pony as a kid ties into that, too. Nevermind that they roll in the dirt and get stinky like any horse, look how sparkly! Fit for a fairy princess, that one.

This boy was one of the ones that came home with me, to my surprise, so if you need a Palomino in your life, check out Bittythings and Beasts!

[prettybearbutch]

hey fellow cowboy butches? new country butch/femme vibes anthem just for u