#riding horse conformation

[photoeq]

Leutstettener/Sárvár stallion Hopehely

Source: https://thepixelnomad.com/leutstettener-sarvar/

[lola-writes]

Duty Is Sacrifice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Velaryon/Strong!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Themes & Warnings: Winterfell, pov. first person, feelings realization, fluff and smut, fingering, orgasm

Summary: Queen Rhaenyra sends you to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. In him you find not only an ally, but something deeper as well…

Song: Skin and Bones (Cinematic) - David Kushner

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The wilderness beyond the Wall sprawled before me atop the outlook, an uncharted immensity dripping with anathema. A frozen wasteland, it held a cold that seemed to seep into your very soul, promising to turn your bones to ice with a single, lingering glance.

The stories from the seasoned rangers down below had painted a vivid picture, but this, this was a masterpiece beyond mere words. The frigid air, a living entity, tore at my dark hair and the borrowed furs – those very furs my stubborn pride had initially dismissed. Now, the only thing missing from mirroring those same hardened rangers was a permanent furrow etched between my brows, a testament to countless nights spent battling the elements. 

Their Lord was a wall of warmth which prevented the gnawing chill from consuming me. His massive form broadened at my side, his very presence thawing me. Turning to him, I observed the furrow deepening between his brows as he regarded me, though it wasn’t a testament to the cold, but rather something concerned. 

“Winterfell beckons, Princess,” he said, his timber thick with northern accent, “Let us return to warm you.” 

His gloved hand, rough yet surprisingly gentle, reached out for me. Relief washed over me as I grasped it, the worn leather a welcome anchor against the treacherous turret steps.

“Blazing fires. Hot stew. How’s that sound?” His stoic expression nearly cracked to the rumble in my stomach. I noticed I was still supported in his grasp well beyond danger, when I felt his thumb tracing reassuring circles on the back of my hand, sending a delicious shiver snaking down my spine.

Gently, I returned it to my side. “That would be most pleasant, thank you my Lord.”

Days had bled into one another at his side, treating, feasting, drinking, strategizing, and though I had no doubt I had fixed him as an ally to my mother’s claim, some other heat beneath the veneer of alliance had begun to simmer in his gaze, a spark that mirrored the disquiet blooming in my own chest.

The iron cage groaned its descent down to Castle Black, echoing through the black shaft like cries of the damned. From the moment I stepped foot in Winterfell, he’d woven a tapestry of comfort. He recalled every detail I mentioned in passing, and behind his every effort to make me feel at home was a gesture conforming to something I’d previously told him I enjoyed – a steaming mug of my favorite herbal tea, a book on a subject I’d once expressed interest in. He was unlike any man I’d encountered. Each word he uttered was a silken caress, so gentle it felt like he feared his own timber could bruise me. But a heavy weight had settled in my chest. My replies had now become clipped, mere whispers that barely escaped my lips. There was so much more at stake now beyond my desires. Duty loomed heavy on my shoulders. I feared any careless words or lingering glances could brittle the alliance with the Starks to pieces.

We mounted our horses and begun our nigh-on two days ride back to Winterfell. Though not as biting as the Wall’s teeth, the wind on the Kingsroad still carried a relentless edge. The only warmth to be found radiated shyly from the small fires Cregan’s bannermen had built, and the thick fur I wove tightly around myself at night.

As the colossal granite form of Winterfell finally clawed its way up from the horizon, a wave of exhaustion crashed into me, settling heavy in my bones. Dismounting was an ordeal. Every muscle in my body throbbed in protest from the days’ ride. My legs, leaden weights, buckled before I could even consider lowering myself. 

But before I could hit the ground, strong arms, surprisingly gentle, encircled my waist, and lifted me from the saddle before I could even think to react. 

We stood there, my body swaying slightly in his arms, our eyes lingering on each other for a second beyond my comfort. His eyes, normally the clear blue of a summer sky, were now a stormy gray, swirling with unspoken concern. A tremor of something akin to fear danced in my chest, battling the unexpected flutter at his touch. 

“Apologies, my Lord,” I stammered, cheeks flushing with a heat that had naught to do with exertion. “Dragon saddle is one thing, but I fear horseback is another entirely.” I smiled apologetically. 

Cregan’s fingers lingered on my waist, a gentle caress that singed through my leathers and into my very skin, sending a jolt through me. He withdrew them slowly, and my side ached from their absence. 

“Fret not, Princess,” he rumbled, his voice a warm current, “Two days on horseback have felled men twice your size.”

I giggled to his obvious attempt at comforting me. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” I replied, taking trembling steps toward the castle.

Once in my chambers, I collapsed onto the bed; sleep, thick and heavy, stealing the day. When I finally opened my eyes, the only light in the room spilled from the dying embers in the hearth. 

A gnawing hunger, cold and insistent, hollowed my gut. With a deep breath, I rose, and dressed in my house colors, the fabric thick with responsibility. Then, I descended the steps in my hunt for scraps.

The massive oak doors of the Great Hall ground open, revealing a cavernous space bathed in the flickering, golden glow of a roaring fire. Laughter and the murmur of rough voices hung in the air. Fur cloaked figures huddled around the immense hearth at the far end, casting dancing shadows on the towering walls. Lord Stark sat amidst his bannermen; tankards raised in boisterous revelry. 

The merriment dipped as I entered. Heads swiveled my way, some splitting into knowing grins. The bannermen rose in unison, scattering like startled crows, their boisterousness replaced by a respectful chorus of greetings and a flurry of curt bows. 

“My regrets for missing supper,” I said, drawing Cregan’s heavy gaze. His shadowed form, a giant even in the flickering firelight, rose with a quiet grace that belied his imposing physique. 

“You need not worry,” he said, ladling steaming stew from a small pot over the fire and offered me the bowl with one hand. A grateful smile lit my face as I accepted it. 

“You grow quite comely as a serving girl,” I jested, a flicker of triumph igniting in my chest when his mouth quirked up into a faint smirk, a flicker of warmth dancing in his eyes, a rare concession on his normally stoic face. 

I settled onto the bench beside his chair and began devouring the stew, its meat and vegetables soothing the ache in my belly. As I ate, I stole glances at Cregan, his face bathed in the rich firelight, a mask of unreadable emotions. 

Regret, sharp and unwelcome, tightened in my chest as I observed him. I had a duty fulfilled, but a heart unsatiated. I had come to Winterfell to remind him of the oath his house swore to my mother, and he had not left me wanton. Yet, the journey back to Dragonstone loomed large in my mind. The prospect of leaving him, perhaps for a very long time, cast a long shadow. Unless he too agreed to join us.

“The Queen’s sworn allies are too few to win a war for the throne,” I declared, my voice tight with the weight of responsibility, “She needs your men.”

His jaw clenched, his stoicism returning like a steel mask. “Cursed be the Hightowers,” he growled, venom lacing his voice. “But winter is coming. War of dragons is never a small ordeal. If the Queen is in need of my men to defeat the usurper, you must allow me to wait out the winter.”

Despair clawed at my throat. Memories and tales of past winters surfaced, stretching on for months, even years. Without the full support of the North, we could be crushed before winter even loosened its icy grip. Perhaps reduced to cinders beneath the wrath of the dragons. 

“It will be too late,” I pleaded, the urgency in my voice cracking the carefully constructed façade I had built.

Cregan met my gaze, his eyes a stormy gray. “It’s the best I can do, Princess. I hope you will forgive me.”

A spark of anger ignited within me, battling the tendrils of despair. “You swore an oath, Lord Stark.”

He held my stare, unwavering. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, “You will have two thousand greybeards that can be ready to march at once.”

“What of you?” My voice trembled, tears welling up before I had the strength to stop them. “What if this is goodbye?” 

Understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes, and his brows furrowed in what I thought was despair. He came to sit beside me, the wood groaning under his weight. His large, calloused thumbs painted the tears across my cheeks. 

“I assure you, Princess,” he said softly, “This is not goodbye.” His hand came up to grasp my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting it up to meet his intense gaze. “I swear it,” he vowed, steel threading through his words. Hope surged through me; a lifeline cast into the churning sea of anguish. 

Starks do not forget an oath. 

“The Hightowers were doomed the second they put the imposter on that throne,” Cregan rumbled, his voice a low caress. 

The space between us seemed to have dissolved, his calloused hands engulfing mine in a firm, reassuring grasp. Silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, tension dripping like honey. I waited for him to say something else, but he remained still, quiet, his fingers slowly and gently exploring mine, each touch sending sparks of lightning up my arms. I met his gaze, my breathing shallowing as I realized his lips were but a whisper away, his dark eyes shimmering with heat, flickering with an unspoken hunger that seethed beneath my skin with each second. 

“Their betrayal…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers ceased their dance with mine, and began their path up my arms, “…will not go unpunished,” he said thickly, his hands now grazing my upper arms, up my shoulders, ceasing at the curve of my neck, the movement sending a sizzling sensation through my blood. 

With the cold that had plagued me so these last few days, I began to fever. My lips parted as if I was suddenly short of breath, and I felt a curious pulse that drifted between my thighs. My whole body, like to an unseen force, drew closer to him, and he tensed beneath his leathers. His frame vibrated with desperate restraint, the fire in his eyes warring between duty and sacrifice. 

“I am a man of honor,” he groaned. My stomach tightened as his hands inched up my neck and traced the line of my jaw, his coarse thumb brushing across my lips. 

Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his fingers burned through my skin. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though he was immersed in concentration. 

Without knowing the full implication of my words, I whispered, “Dishonor me.”

For the storm, only just contained, raged wild in his eyes, a low growl sounded from deep in his chest before he crashed his lips to mine. 

I received them with a low, beckoning gasp. My palms came up to his neck, my nails running the length of it as he explored my lips, the roof of my mouth, my teeth, and under my tongue. Then his lips traced my jaw, finding my ear, breathed his warm air into it, nibbled my lobe, then covered my throat in wet kisses. I tilted my head to grant him access, as low, sensual mewlings poured from my lips, something carnal infiltrating my veins.

His hands came down to my waist, and I gasped in surprise when he lifted me and placed me in his lap, my legs latching around his back. 

He was so big and warm and hard. His eyes were lazy and dark as his fingers began to lightly trace down the side of my neck, then hooking into my dress to bare my shoulder. He kissed it with an open mouth and moving tongue, and I quivered beneath his touch. Then, with a sharp sound of a tear, he had pulled my dress all the way down my abdomen. 

He groaned at the sight of me, his lips slightly parted, his hands delicately cupping my breasts as if he’d found treasure. When the cold made me shiver, he leaned into me to lend me his warmth, while his lips tantalized me, drawing close to my hardened nipple, blowing it with hot air, then backing off, kissing across my breastbone to the other, until I forced his mouth to it.

He hummed with throaty satisfaction, latching onto it and giving it one slow suck, grazing the skin with his teeth. I threw my head back with a gasp. White heat shot like lightning between my thighs, before pulsing into an empty ache. I swayed into him, bucking my hips into his groin, feeling him harden beneath me. He suckled my other breast in warm, slow pulses, circling the areola, drawing panting moans out of me, before he found my lips again. 

Gathering my skirts, he moved his hands underneath them, gripping the fullness of my thighs, kneading them, squeezing them, to the point it pinched me, and I bit his bottom lip in protest. 

Cregan Stark was a gentle giant in all matters but things salacious. 

A throaty sigh escaped his lips as his hands found my buttocks, kneading the flesh between his fingers. Hot, slick tingles pooled between my thighs, and my fingers curled in his hair. My body hummed in anticipation as his finger slid downward, a groan pouring out of me as he grazed over my wet opening. 

“Oh, Princess.” The words were like magic on his lips, shooting through my core in throbbing pulses. 

His other arm snaked around my waist, locking me to his body as he explored and moistened my folds, leaving me a bucking, moaning mess in his lap. 

I felt empty and sickly. A fog had infiltrated my vision, my skin, my mind, my inhibitions. I coveted him. I needed him, more than I needed anything else. His eyes alone could touch inside of me, but I could not explain the pulsing, throbbing, delirious effects of his hands, his mouth, his tongue, and I ached for more. I felt unfinished, incomplete. 

Until he slid a finger deep inside me, and I gasped. Hot, sweet pressure filled me, and once I adjusted, he introduced another, threatening to overfill as he fingered me. 

Fast and then lazy. 

Over and over. 

The room filled with wet squelching noises and my moaning squeals. His deeper, throatier moans vibrated through his chest and lit me on fire, burning in my lower stomach, blazing, desperate for feed, or I would disintegrate. 

My nails dug desperately into his shoulders, as any attempts of filling myself up to completion were in vain by the power of his grip around my waist. He trailed every inch of my neck, kissing it as it if were my mouth, with lips, tongue, and teeth. His fingers penetrated deep and curled inside of me, rubbing something within that sent pressure bursting into tingles and flames, my veins burning up like dragon fire, and stars sparkling behind my eyelids. I cried out with the purest ecstasy as my body shuddered and clenched around his fingers, and he groaned against my skin with dark satisfaction as I clung to him desperately.

Once my trembles ceased and I managed to catch my breath, he took my cheeks in his hand and kissed me fiercely, passionately, his fires still boiling for release.

“I am coming with you,” he declared.

Tag list: @koyaa66648 @longlivemyblues @melsunshine @urdadsfavs @the-great-ladyg @barackosteaa @elysyannemimi @80sstradlin @hgyura @telltale-vixen @nyxbranwenn @tortargaryen @naxal-jlt @flowercrownsandherondales @red-hydra @lanadelray1989 @crumbledcastle28 @midnightcrw @prismaudee @nsr-15

[eachuisge-cc]

Honestly I'm astounded that nobody has taken that name yet.

Do you dislike the look of vanilla Skyrim horses? Are you tired of riding some kind of Clydesdale/Belgian/Cob thing around fantasy Scandinavia for no clear reason? Do you want your beloved and loyal horse to stand out from the crowd as much as you do? Well great news, this mod covers all of those things.

Basically I made some significant edits to the horse model including a fuller, longer mane and tail, redone feathering, somewhat more realistic conformation, and entirely redone ears because at a certain point it was just easier to make new ones. None of the changes affect how the horse fits the vanilla rig so it still bends and moves without distorting weirdly. The textures are entirely painted from scratch and have new normals to go with them that are meant to give the horses a somewhat softer, more natural look that still fits with Skyrim's general vibe. I used references of primarily North Swedish and Dole horses, but also borrowed from the wider range of colors and patterns in Icelandics because I couldn't give up the pintos.

Current Features:

Asymmetrical coats/markings, because I fully redid the UV while I was messing with the mesh (mostly because mirrored pinto horses in video games are the bane of my existence)

Distinct meshes for mares and stallions, the mare model is closer to the vanilla horse's conformation, while the stallion model has a slightly bulkier build and thicker neck, and a an unobtrusive low poly dong.

Five generic solid-coated textures that appear on most NPC horses in the world.

Unique texture for each purchasable player horse

Unique texture and model for Frost (he's now a mealy chestnut as his papers claim)

Unique Shadowmere

Unique Karinda (this mod does NOT add Karinda into the game, but her texture should show up if you have CRF or another mod that does add her, as long as it doesn't alter her texture or base model)

Unique Hearthfire stable horses (purchasable through the steward)

Unique unsaddled stable horse in Markarth because uh, I just felt like it

Unique coats for a growing number of modded follower horses (see the mod page for the list)

Future plans: see the mod page

Compatibility:

This mod should be compatible with most things, though for best results it should be loaded after any mod that affects vanilla horse records (this isn't always obvious; SkyTEST has no visible affect on vanilla horses, but if you load it after this mod the unique player horses will have generic coats). Most mods that add new horses use the existing vanilla records, so unless a modded horse has a unique model (and assuming it doesn't have a unique coat addon) it should be replaced automatically with the edited model and one of the generic coats. That isn't always the case, sometimes another mod gets weird with it and there's nothing I can do about that, but in those cases a patch will likely be needed.

This mod will NOT be compatible with any other mod that changes the appearance of the vanilla horses or replaces their models/textures.

I will not personally be making patches for other mods because there's no way I could possibly keep up with that and I'd rather spend the time and energy on the mod itself, however I encourage anyone else who wants to to make whatever patches are needed. Please message me if you do so I can link them here for people to find.

Huge thanks to SassiestAssassin, who has been an incredible help in navigating the learning curve of editing nifs (and is continuing to be a huge help with solving my inability to make patches), and also has a lot of fantastic mods you should check out.

Download:

Nexus Mods

[canisalbus]

we have this pony at my riding school. for horse shaped in conformation though? his name is farsi? he’s chestnut but just. very machete in personality. anxious and has to be handled gently but works harder than any pony i’ve met. harder than many horses actually. oftentimes children ride ponies so ponies tend to be less likely to listen, but not our adhd pony farsi <3

.

[inexplicifics]

If you're still doing snippets, I don't think we've had the Eldritch Trio one yet?

Also the Weird Omegaverse Warprize Thing is intriguing from the bits so far.... honestly I'm generally stoked for the entirety of the list.

If you feel like showing off one that hasn't been mentioned yet, blank space here!

Eldritch Trio:

The trio are all staring at Voltehre in bafflement as Lambert sits down. Well, Gweld is staring a little bit over Voltehre’s head. He never looks anyone in the eye unless he means to overpower their will. But the bafflement is still definitely there. “Hello,” Eskel says at last, a little warily. “Did you lose a bet?” “No,” Voltehre says, giving Eskel a sunny smile. “I wanted to say hello, and Lam thinks you’re fascinating.” Lambert covers his face with a hand and prays the Grasses really did destroy his ability to blush. “Fascinating,” Geralt rumbles, and Lambert shudders at the sound. It’s not fear running down his spine, though maybe it should be. “Fascinating,” Gweld lilts, sounding amused. Lambert puts his hands on the table to push himself upright - he isn’t going to stay here and be mocked, fuck Voltehre for dragging him into this - One of Eskel’s tentacles curls around his wrist. “Stay,” Eskel says. “Fascinating’s better than most of the things we get called when they think we can’t hear.”

Weird omegaverse war prize thing:

As the barbarians finish eating, they get up and leave the hall, without any ceremony whatsoever; by the time Jaskier has cleared his plate, the hall is three-quarters empty. And it’s as he’s setting his mug down empty - he has to admit he rather likes the strong tisane they were served - that a beautiful young woman gets up from one of the other tables, leans down to kiss the barbarian she was sitting next to on the mouth, and comes striding over to the omegas. She’s tall and blonde, with blue-grey eyes and a generously curved figure that suggests both strength and probable fertility, and as she gets close enough to smell, Jaskier realizes she’s an omega. He wracks his brain hastily, but he doesn’t think the young barbarian she kissed was one of those who claimed any of Jaskier’s companions, so she’s probably not coming over to assert her own prior claim to her alpha - “Hullo,” she says, sliding onto the bench across from Jaskier. “I’m Julita.”

And for the author's choice - knight!Milena

The first thing Lambert thinks when he sees the armored figure riding at the manticore is, Well shit, that’s a waste of a good horse. It is a good horse: an enormous black stallion, maybe even larger than Scorpion, with absolutely beautiful conformation. It dwarfs its rider entirely; Lambert, watching the coming catastrophe with a grimace, assumes some squire has stolen his knight-master’s mount and is trying to prove himself worthy of his spurs, and is just going to get himself eaten for his trouble. Manticores are basically only vulnerable at eyes and mouth, and the chances of the rider hitting either of those with a lance-tip from a full gallop are… Lambert’s own mouth drops open, and he stands there gaping like a complete nitwit as the rider’s lance takes the manticore squarely in its open maw, the full force of the horse’s weight behind it, and the manticore goes back on its haunches and then over onto its side, taking the lance with it. The rider reins in the horse, curving neatly away from the fallen monster, and trots around to face his defeated enemy, sensibly drawing his sword as he goes. The manticore is busy going through its death throes, though; the rider halts his horse and waits, alert but unmoving, until the creature finally breathes its last.

[fromtheseventhhell]

I'm not sure how to get it into people's heads that Arya is a female character. She's not a boy, not nonbinary, trans, agender, or genderless. I don't intend this in a way to be negative or wanky, but her girlhood is imbedded within her character. The problem isn't that Arya stans are missing the point by overemphasizing her femininity and wanting her to be a barefoot tradwife baby making machine, but that we're stating it exists when the majority of fandom and the show itself have gone out of the way to minimize the relevancy of her gender. I'm fully convinced there are a lot of people who think Arya would be the exact same character had GRRM created her as a male character named Arry instead, perhaps they'd do a better job at acknowledging her importance.

What's most ironic to me is how these same fans will gush and coo over the sisters being more alike than we think, but only if it involves giving Arya's characteristics to Sansa. Well acktually, Sansa likes to ride horses just as much as Arya does! They're so alike uwu! But dare acknowledge that Arya has traits and aspects commonly associated to Sansa then not only does that get accusations of wanting Arya to become Sansa, but that it's solely about showing Sansa up and wanting her to grovel in Arya's shadow and superiority 🙄 Hypocrisy and projection showing itself.

Somewhat of an aside, but I recently saw a post on reddit complaining about the fact that all four of Daemon's children survived the Dance specifically focused on the fact that both Rhaena and Baela lived. According to the OP, one of them should've died and their post-war roles in the story should've been given to only one of them. Which at its core is really the main conflict between Sansa and Arya stans, no matter how much the Stansas want to cover their ears and play dumb. It's not about Arya stans projecting their sibling squabbles onto the two of them but simply the fact that it's not possible for two characters to fulfill the same role in the story, specifically when it involves two female characters. The existence of two Stark sisters is an inconvenience for the people who want the story to revolve around Sansa.

I have to believe there's some bubbles that they don't want to admit will burst if TWOW will ever be released and that's why they cling to the idea that Arya stans are the delusional ones. They have to believe that the parts of Sansa's seasons 5-8 storyline they like came from GRRM instead of D&D or else their Jonsa and QITN fantasies will fall apart. I have no idea how someone can watch the scene where Sansa tells Arya she couldn't survive what she had while Arya can only sputter out that she was training and believe 1) it makes sense for their book characters and 2) D&D didn't blatantly favor Sansa and Sophie over Arya and Maisie.

This ask came literally seconds after I drafted a post talking about this exact topic and it's so wild to me that we were both up thinking about Arya + her girlhood and wanting to discuss it 🥹

As for this ask, you really hit the nail on the head. Arya's gender is an essential aspect of her journey but fandom ignores that because they've decided that there's only one "right" way to exist as a female character. Arya's self-esteem issues stem from her being a non-conforming Lady in a misogynistic society, she has to disguise herself as a boy in part because of the threat of sexual violence, in Harrenhal she is assigned gender-specific tasks/labor, political matches are made without her knowledge/consent, she is threatened with sexual violence multiple times, and even her role within the FM is influenced by her gender. Her being non-conforming doesn't mean she's the complete antithesis of everything feminine. The obsession with propping up Sansa has ruined people's ability to perceive complex female characters, ironically including Sansa herself. They genuinely would've respected Arya more if she had died passively rather than fight for her life and you can't tell me that isn't misogyny.

That Reddit post is a great example of how people genuinely can't (or refuse to) comprehend the idea of two female characters occupying the same space. Cause you're right, that is the root of the issue. I think the only reason they bother with the fake "Stark sisters uwu" crap is because they've backed themselves into a faux-feminist corner and they don't want to look hypocritical for disliking Arya. So instead, they pretend to care all while rewriting her to serve as Sansa's prop. This is also why so many Queen!Sansa truthers are also anti-Dany + think that Sansa becoming Queen depends on Dany's downfall. They desperately cling to the show as canon, when D&D have openly admitted they changed the story because they favored Sansa/Sophie. They're fine with how show!Arya is written because to them, that's exactly how she should be; a subservient lapdog for Sansa. TWOW is definitely going to ruin that illusion, and one of the reasons I'm optimistic about it being released is getting to see fandom's reaction.

[leafsea]

nomad

sometimes, i forget that i am placeless when i stand still for too long

so i have to keep moving, riding toward some distant unknown

i know adaption is not possible; i have tried many times to conform, to blend in with the others

and if it didn't work when i was naive and malleable then it won't work now

the only option is to hang on to what i am

like clinging to a horse's reins because i know if i fall the horse isn't coming back

[bunniehunn]

An updated profile for Flori! This ^ is her voice claim! LOTS of info below the cut!

Appearance:

Flori is a tanned young woman with green-hazel eyes. She’s very tall at 6’0, with an athletic build, broad shoulders, and prominent muscles. She has long, slightly curly velvet red hair that reaches just below her upper back, though it’s always in a ponytail or some kind of up-do for practicality. She has an androgynous look and air about her, sometimes causing confusion. Her usual non-uniform outfits are still very formal though always practical, boots, high-waisted pants, peasant and poets shirts, she never seems to wear full skirts.

Personality:

Flori is someone who seems to have a boundless amount of compassion for everyone, though she’s certainly not a pushover. Her chivalrous ways show her strong sense of justice, she stands firmly for that which she believes in. She’s also not exempt from a little bit of teasing, either. She’s also extremely perceptive, able to read people and rooms easily. She’s a bit of a romantic, too, always throwing a flirting line or two. Truly, the perfect princess charming…

Backstory:

Flori was born into the royal family of Black Shore, a small island kingdom off the coast of the Shaftlands. Raised as the crown princess, she’s obviously had a lot of weight on her shoulders since she was a child. She quickly grew to despise this, though she crammed it down deep inside, conforming to her parents ideals of the perfect future ruler. Truthfully, she longs for a normal life, one free of the strain and responsibility she has looming over her. It’s grown to the point where she’s absolutely terrified of her future since she’s an only child, the single option, no way out. She feels a strong sense of guilt for her position in life. Disgusted at herself for being so resentful of her title when so many others less fortunate would kill to be where she is. She’d frequently take up tasks from the servants around her estate even during her busy schedule, though it’s mostly to make herself feel better selfishly, which of course she is disgusted at once again. Homeschooling and tutoring has been all she’s known. When it came time for her to enroll in an academy/college, she almost begged her parents to let her go to NRC. Her reason being, she’d do anything to get farther away from her status as crown princess, something which would likely be apotheosized somewhere like Royal Sword. Of course, when justifying it to her parents, she disguised her intentions to go as a learning experience, to gain knowledge of the school with an obviously negative reputation. Her parents were extremely hesitant at first, but relented anyway. Now at NRC, she’s constantly toeing the line of being pulled right back out of school by her parents (the constant overblots don't help, obviously.)

Other random tidbits:

She has a multitude of hobbies, singing and pottery being the most important to her.

She's talented in the art of the sword (primarily fencing) and takes rock-climbing lessons from time to time.

Epel thought she was a dude when they first met.

Her and Jack work out together.

She had a secret relationship with one specific fair-skinned RSA student back in middle school. They met at one of her families’s extravagant balls. Broke up mutually due to their busy schedules, no animosity, still good friends!

Took horse-back riding when she was younger.

In the Light Music Club! She is the lead singer and sometimes does piano for the band.

Subtly tries to help Jamil reign Kalim in.

Her family has a whole big thing about their unique magics centering around voices/singing.

Here’s her full dorm uni and school uni.

★彡

amazing template by @ai-kan1!

The character I pulled her voice from is Tsubasa Kazanari from Symphogear! I think she fits pretty well.

Also- the amount of stripes on Jamil’s ✋😭

GUYS PLEASE BLOW THIS UP I WILL LITERALLY DISINTEGRATE IF THIS FLOPS

[photoeq]

grullo 2010 Norwegian Fjord stallion Haavanesko

Source: http://www.sukuposti.net/hevoset/haavanesko/galleria/599523

[ahedderick]

Horse/honse

So, a question from @quite-quirksome about Hero got me thinking about Hero's conformation (body structure) and coloring.

He is, I say kindly, a great example of buying for temperament, not beauty. Number 1: that is a blocky head. If you looked at a show quality Tennessee Walker, it would have a finer, more tapered muzzle. Number 2: a lot of people hate bald (white) faces. Snips, star, blazes etc are considered attractive; bald not-so-much. Excessive white on the face is also linked to deafness (like white cats) and blue eyes. Which brings me to:

Number 3: pink skin, like Hero has underneath the white fur, is prone to sunburn and skin cancer, just like humans. His skin under the gray fur is a dark gray.

See that? It was smaller when we bought him. Three vets looked at it and said not to worry about it unless it grew. When it grew, a vet removed it and biopsied it. Yep, it was cancer. The spot of the excision healed up beautifully, and it has not recurred. However, he gets a careful skin check from time to time! He has plenty of shade to stand in during sunny months, and he does use that.

Number 4: his legs are stocky and thick compared to the breed standard. The next photo, from a TN walker sale site, shows the typical graceful leg. And head. (OMG - that horse is for SALE! Wouldn't he make a marvelous pal for Hero?? Oh, jeez.)

Despite all that, however, Hero is the perfect horse! Because what we wanted was a safe, gentle fellow for fun riding, not a show horse. He excelled at safe and gentle when K was but a 65-pound, 12-yr-old beginner rider. He is 21, now, and showing his age a bit. Still has plenty of pep, though, and should be rideable for a lightweight rider for years to come.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Lucy as Merida

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Main Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Little late to the party on this one because it took me awhile to decide who she would be. Shoutout to @cillmequick for helping me out with this! 😘 And to @novashelby for tagging me! 🖤

I picked Merida for Lucy firstly because of her hair, but also because she and Lucy have similar spunky, tomboyish personalities and refuse to conform to the norms of the world around them, which puts them at odds with the parental figures in their lives. They're also both the oldest girl with younger brothers, and love horses and horse back riding. If Lucy didn't have a gun, I like to think she'd be as proficient with a bow and arrow as Merida is!

Thank you for viewing! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[ranticore]

Just wanted to say that as a fellow recovering equestrian of many years, finding out that you used to ride makes SOOOOOO much sense after reading your fic! I don't remember if it was a detail about the tack or a riding scene in general, but I noticed how authentic it felt and was impressed because it's usually inaccuracies about that sort of thing that jump out to me in fics/media. So that came across very well in your writing and was very recognizable to me.

I do like the idea of forcing young dragon riders to make and maintain their own tack because negligence in this area will kill you so at least you know they're properly learning a lesson

The scene of Clarion grilling everyone about their Form after the first flight was directly based off of how riding instructors would speak to us, assessing our own conformation like we were horses too lol. They notice from 500 miles away if you're not compensating right on one side, they see All. I feel like that's a thing that sticks out to me almost more than the horses themselves, the way instructors and stable owners behave. Horse people is the same.

[lucythornwalter]

Of the eight American Girls developed by Pleasant Company, seven of them celebrate Christmas, and Felicity isn’t the outlier. (It’s Kaya. Any time you’re talking about the original eight girls and one of them is different from the others, that one is almost certainly Kaya. I have somewhat mixed feelings about this, but we’ll get to that when we get to the girl herself. There’s a reason I’m saving her for last.) This means that we get Felicity’s Surprise, a Christmas story, and thankfully a story that has basically nothing to do with class or gender, so hopefully I won’t be sucked into the vortex of the slavery-shaped elephant in the room for the fourth time in a row.

We begin the book with Felicity and her sister Nan going home after an afternoon of gathering holly to decorate their house for Christmas, and we can see Felicity’s maturity and growing comfort with her assigned gender because while she still loves to slide around on frozen puddles she’s conscious of the fact that she can’t stay outside and play forever and that she’s expected to behave in a more genteel and mature way. The biggest lesson she learned last book, it seems, isn’t navigating complicated social conflicts, it’s that femininity can be fun – just as fun as masculinity, in different ways. It’s helped her bond with her sister, and created more solid ties between her and her mother. Both of those are shaping up to be important.

After the girls get home, their house is visited by a footman who delivers an invitation for Felicity from Lord and Lady Dunmore, the governor of Virginia and his wife. They’ve asked her to come to a dancing lesson at their palace on the seventh of January, just after the end of the Christmas season (the day after, in fact, as ‘Christmastide’ lasts until Twelfth Night on the sixth). This is both exciting and nervewracking for Felicity. Her father’s store isn’t doing as well as it was prior to his decision not to sell tea, so there’s not as much money to go around and it’s stressing her parents out, and she’s worried they’ll perceive her desire to go to the lesson as a betrayal of their political position since Lord Dunmore represents the will of the King in the colony. Luckily, her father tells her that she can and should go. He hopes that if the children of these opposing families can find common ground and dance together, the adults can solve their problems without violence. I have to wonder if anyone ever bothered to give him a copy of Romeo and Juliet to illustrate how well that tends to go when young people are involved.

I lied, by the way. This is a little about class. If the Merrimans weren’t at least reasonably wealthy and respected, it wouldn’t matter who Felicity herself knew. She wouldn’t be getting an invite to the governor’s mansion. It’s also a little about gender, too – we see the tension between Felicity’s strong suits (running footraces, riding horses, sliding and skating on ice) and her weak points (curtsying, dancing). Ben also gets to stick his head in as an avatar of masculinity and an aspirational figure, criticizing Felicity for wanting to go to the dance in the first place and wounding her pride and hurting her feelings. Ben seems to only respect Felicity if she conforms to his gender, and acts as a young boy might act; he’s deeply awkward and uncomfortable around her without that buffer of common interest to unite them.

We have a mention of a truly historical food, Shrewsbury cakes. I’d never bothered finding out what those were in all my first years with Felicity as a companion, but according to Wikipedia they’re basically sugar cookies with lemon zest in the dough and dried fruit added for additional flavor. Felicity and Elizabeth make a version with nutmeg and rosewater that seems to be sourced from a 19th century American cookbook, and when I get around to looking at Felicity’s cookbook I wonder if they’ll be included. (Don’t tell me! I want to be surprised.) We also get Felicity’s anxieties over dancing, exacerbated by Annabelle Cole making fun of her again. She decides that if she has the right dress she’ll be confident enough to not make any mistakes, but her family’s money problems mean she doesn’t feel comfortable asking for a new gown. It’s also a new experience for her – usually her mother has to bully her into dressing well. I’ll also point out that the money problems don’t seem to be impacting their ability to feed and house themselves, and they can still do their shopping with more or less the same freedom. It’s possible they’re eating into their savings or Felicity’s grandfather steps in with a loan or a discreet gift, and it’s also possible that the Merrimans’ downward-turning fortunes were always intended to be a temporary state. We do see Kit’s family have a massive upheaval due to the loss of Mr. Kittredge’s income, but that is so significant as to overshadow her entire tenure in the books – my guess is that Pleasant Company doesn’t want to introduce major life events without letting them be major life events.

Our old friend the theme of justice surfaces again here, because the central conflict in this volume is all about the Patriots believing that their opposition to the King is morally right while the Loyalists believe that obeying the King and obeying the laws is paramount. Felicity herself remains neutral on the subject, which I quite like from a historical education perspective because contemporaneous works like Liberty’s Kids have highly opinionated characters who are extremely well-informed and very passionate about their chosen political positions despite being, as the title suggests, kids. It feels more realistic that Felicity is most concerned with how her parents’ interactions with politics are going to affect her ability to go to a party.

This book is also noteworthy for being the introduction to Felicity’s doll. Every American Girl in the original eight books (again, except possibly for Kaya, though I think she did also have a doll of some kind) had a doll that she had some sort of attachment to. Some of them are joined at the hip, others like playing with dolls as one of many toys, still others treat them more like we’d treat a plushie or a comfort object. Felicity’s style of interaction is the most familiar to me, as a doll collector rather than a doll player. She sees a fashion doll at the milliner’s and wants it very badly because of how pretty it is, but basically never plays with it and mostly enjoys having it around in her house. She sees the doll in the first place because Mrs. Merriman takes her on her errands, including to the apothecary to purchase some cough medicine for herself and to the milliner to get some trim or ribbon to spruce up her church gown so she can look pretty for the dance lesson. While at the milliner’s, though, Felicity decides to ask for a new gown of the same blue fabric used to dress the doll, and Mrs. Merriman is so happy that she wants to have a new dress on her own that she spends money the family maybe doesn’t have and buys the pattern and the silk right there on the spot.

(Brief historical aside – the milliner would probably also have been a mantua-maker, which was a style of clothing construction developed primarily by women and that involved what we’d now recognize as a form of draping. Pieces of fabric were draped or held over a client’s body and immediately cut to fit them and match their measurements. Colonial Williamsburg’s milliners now are also mantua-makers, and this blog post from Sarah Woodyard details her experiences becoming a journeywoman mantua-maker after years of apprenticeship and training there. This is significant because instead of Felicity’s measurements being taken right there and her pattern being created from scratch in muslin for her mother or the mantua-maker to replicate and assemble in the blue silk of the finished product, the milliner provides Mrs. Merriman with a preexisting pattern for a grown woman to be altered to fit Felicity – she’s essentially acting as a tailor, who did use preexisting patterns that were then individually cut and altered based on measurements. This is probably because the process of assembling a hand-sewn piece from a modern paper pattern is much closer to tailoring than mantua-making and is thus more familiar to modern girls, but it might also be because Pleasant Rowland and Valerie Tripp didn’t know the difference between the types of garment assembly. I’m curious now if Colonial Williamsburg practiced mantua-making in the 90s, or if they tailored their garments and later adapted to better fit historical practice.)

Felicity is more connected with her labor here than she was in the last book. Now, her household chores and her assistance with additional tasks aren’t just drudgery that no one appreciates – the more time she can clear up for her mother, the more time said mother can spend sewing the gown. She also assists as best she can in sewing it, though most of the work is too complicated for her. It’s a really lovely series of moments, watching her find yet more reasons to appreciate her life and her assigned gender roles but to find them for herself and not through being forced or railroaded.

Unfortunately, Ben is a gigantic asshole about it. He belittles her for liking the gown, and for wanting to go to the dance lesson. He even tells her that if Penny came back he doesn’t think she’d care, which deeply hurts her. Ben has previously been treating Felicity like a peer, even though he’s seven years older than her; this is one of the times when it might have benefited him to remember that he’s practically a grown man and she’s a little girl. He’s mostly angry about her fraternizing with Loyalists, not thinking about the precarious financial status of his apprenticeship or the fact that her appearance at the mansion might mean more business for the store – again we see him treating her like a man and getting angry when she’s more like a woman. Okay, maybe this book is a lot about gender. Maybe gender is inescapable. Maybe it comes for all of us.

Christmas itself is actually not that big of a deal among the Virginians, though it’s certainly more of a big deal for them than for the Puritans in New England. Felicity goes to church, and the family have a spectacular Christmas dinner, and Mrs. Merriman, who has been fighting an illness of some kind, is now significantly sicker than she was before because she’s not eating. As a kid, I definitely didn’t understand that as foreshadowing, but now as an adult who’s had some serious illnesses (and some chronic ones, insert skull emoji here) I definitely get what’s being communicated. The apothecary had warned her to rest, but she hadn’t taken his advice, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she couldn’t or because she didn’t want to. I’ve mentioned it before, but the whole family has to work to keep the household running, even with the extra help provided by the definitely enslaved Marcus and possibly enslaved Rose, so it’s possible that it doesn’t matter what the doctor wants, dinner has to be on the table, and my oldest child is nine and can’t do it.

Regardless, by the next morning, she’s gone from “mildly ill” to “actively dying”. The apothecary basically tells her poor family that the most they can do is keep her room warm and try and get her to eat and hydrate whenever she’s awake, but that beyond that it’s a crapshoot. Notably, Mr. Merriman leaves the store entirely to Marcus and Ben and stays home to parent his children and sit with his wife, which is a possible clue as to why Felicity’s parents are so permissive about her gender nonconformity – they don’t quite fit the molds themselves. Felicity herself is deeply impacted by her mother’s illness, and goes through a period of actively hating herself for caring about silly things like a dance lesson or a fancy gown or a doll. She even gets the doll as a present and demands that Elizabeth take it away so she isn’t reminded of how foolish she was. She also says she won’t be able to go to the dance lesson so long as her mother is sick, and even if that were to change her gown is only half-finished.

A turning point for her character comes, though, in the form of providing hope to Nan and William. They’re reliant upon her to be brave and strong, and in helping them through their own fear and grief she finds closure. This doesn’t last long, though, because their mother doesn’t die, thank God, and she’s basically gently bullied by her parents back into being a little girl. This too is about class, I think, because the Merrimans are capable of giving their kids childhoods in the first place. There’s no work around the house or work for other people that needs to be done, and while they have chores and lessons and responsibilities their days are about halfway split between work and play. It’s an interesting contrast to other, poorer girls both in and out of the American Girl franchise – she can run off and drop what she’s doing on a whim, where Kirsten and Addy and even Molly would have to finish their chores first.

And speaking of being a little girl, she gets to go to the dance lesson! Elizabeth and the other Cole women worked on her gown in secret so she could go, and Ben apologizes for having a giant stick up his ass and escorts her to the governor’s mansion. The concept of being escorted is a really interesting one as it’s used here, because Felicity is allowed to run wild all over Williamsburg basically all of the time unless it’s something fancy, but it’s important enough to her parents that she have an escort that she almost doesn’t get to go at all because no one can leave her mother for long enough to take her. At least she has her aspirational figure of ideal Patriot masculinity to project onto and talk with.

Once she gets to the mansion, everything goes perfectly. I’ve actually been in the specific ballroom the kids all hang out in, because you can take house tours of Dunmore’s real life mansion that he really lived in when you visit Colonial Williamsburg, and I did ask myself which specific room Felicity’s lesson was in, and now that I’ve reread it and the walls are described as being blue I can say definitively that yes, I was there, it’s very luxurious and cool, and she was absolutely right to want to go. She ends the night in triumph, and wearing a very cool dress, and really, what more could a girl want?

This is not my favorite Christmas book among the original eight. It’s interesting to note that the titular “Surprise” is basically never to do with Christmas itself, and sometimes it’s a surprise the girl gets to present to everyone else. Here, of course, it’s the blue dress and the Cinderella moment, and truthfully I’m very glad that an actual surprise is present. Not all the titles always check out – Kirsten Saves the Day is not about Kirsten saving the day, it’s about Kirsten almost getting mauled by a bear – but this one definitely does. It also feels the least Christmas-adjacent to me, possibly because very little is done with the day itself. That’s fairly historically accurate, as Christmas was something of a controversial holiday among certain English people and really only came into its own in the 19th century, but it does mean that there’s very little holiday spirit to truly connect with.

The message of peace on Earth really falls flat for me, too. As nice as it is to express a desire to settle your differences peacefully, everyone here is going to be fighting in less than two years. It’s one thing to try and talk about the slowly escalating tensions. It’s something else entirely when there’s not really any mystery about how this will end. Plus, again, the fact that everyone is able to make nice for a night for the sake of the kids just highlights how fundamentally similar both sides of this conflict were. It’s a lovely sentiment, but it’s only accessible to the rich people driving the engine of rebellion, and I do wish there was more acknowledgement of that fact. For all the problems with Hamilton’s historiography, it at least understood that particularly vital point. For some of the people involved, this wasn’t a conflict they could make nice over, it was their futures, their legacies, their lives and deaths.

Anyway, I successfully avoided talking at all about slavery, but that’s not going to last, because in Happy Birthday, Felicity! we meet Isaac, and I have a lot to say about Isaac. See you all next time, I guess?

[mysteriawrites]

Commission info: $5 Matchup for Love and Deepspace (started playing 2 months ago and it is my latest hyperfixation). I adore all 4 of the guys sm 🫠

- personality: distant, introverted but not shy, generally respectful of others but not necessarily kind, somewhat apathetic (but a majority of the time mood baseline is content/relaxed), calm under pressure, extremely independent, confident and self-secure (sometimes arrogant! i try to keep my god complex in check lol), can take criticism well, straightforward (blunt, sometimes tactless/insensitive both on purpose and on accident), pretty sassy/snarky, tends to laugh off the severity of a situation, not very ambitious, mildly competitive, a moderate risk-taker (gets a thrill from risky situations, but tries to avoid lethal ones).

broad sense of humor (often more on the playful/absurd side), playful w/ friends, very teasing, mischievous, realist that leans optimistic, nosy and loves gossip/drama, a natural troublemaker/rulebreaker but also often unintentionally gets into trouble (wrong place/time), comfortable with confrontation, a bit combative with authority and those who irritate me but is generally easygoing, quick-witted, logical, unsentimental, surprisingly low impulse control.

- personality/alignment types: INTJ ; 7w8 ; chaotic neutral.

- love languages: physical touch and gifts. touch reserved for close friends/partners only, but i can get pretty cuddly with them and will just drape myself over my partner if they let me. willing to make the first move/initiate affection in general.

- preferred dates: cafés, hiking then picnic or camping, staying in and cooking/baking together then watching shows or playing games, artsy dates (including body painting), ice skating, late night drives with music playing.

- hobbies: video games (tactics, RPGs, visual novels), anime, drawing (paper and digital), painting (mostly watercolor), baking, cosplay, writing, reading (fantasy, suspense/thriller, psychological), caring for houseplants, home/decor DIY projects, hiking, jogging, thrill-seeking activities (adrenaline junkie).

- likes: cats, frogs, snakes, sweets, most fruits, cheese, lattes (a favorite of mine is chai), scented candles, piercings, tattoos, puns and lame dad jokes, cool weather, forests, traveling, new experiences, learning languages (currently knows/studied: english, french, korean, latin), medieval history, the occasional lazy day, bantering with others, encouraging my friends' bad/risky decisions (i will even do it with them), lovingly teasing/bullying friends, when people cook for me.

- dislikes: dogs, horses, bitter foods, grapefruit, potatoes, alcohol, strong scents, hot weather, spiders (other bugs are ok), long car rides, feeling restricted, conformity and blind obedience, having to be responsible for others or lead them, being vulnerable, when others are condescending towards me (makes my pride flare up), people-pleasing behavior, when others step in to help without me asking.

- misc.: quite clumsy, accident prone ; terrible sense of direction ; easily motion sick (very sad bc i love park rides but i can only handle 1-2 at a time) ; enjoys skin/hair care, loves changing up hair often ; used to do gymnastics ; able to play alto saxophone ; a weird mix between a night owl and a morning person (but afternoons are rough) ; i had a near drowning experience once as a kid but i'm still plenty comfortable with water (though being on boats makes me a little uneasy LOL. i love tubing/water skiing tho) ; my hands and feet are always ice cold so i like subjecting my friends to them (sticking my hands under their shirt, holding their hands, or tucking my feet beneath their legs if we're sitting on a couch together) ; majors in international studies and french in uni w/ minors in psychology and medieval history ; currently working as a medical scribe ; studied abroad in korea for 5 months, LOVED it and honestly never got homesick ; prone to bad luck but tries to find the humor in most situations.

- appearance/style: 155 cm / 5’1” ; hourglass to pear shaped ; very pale (burns easily) ; baby-faced, button nose, single dimple on right cheek when smiling ; big green eyes, long eyelashes ; hair is naturally wavy and light ash brown almost always styled with bangs, i just cut most of my hair off and got an undercut a couple weeks ago ; 5 piercings in one ear, 4 + an industrial in the other, and a navel piercing ; clothing style is more on the masculine side (rarely wears dresses/skirts, but i do love short shorts), color scheme is black/gray/muted green ; loves fishnets, flannels, graphic tees, leather jackets, combat boots ; socks are either black or very colorful/patterned ; enjoys sweatpants and hoodies when lounging at home.

Hihi thx so much for the commission. I will also send you a pdf version of you matchup so in case anything happens to this blog you'll still have it, and it won't be money down the drain. :)

RAFAYEL!!!

Between the two of you there’s enough sassy to write the world’s longest rivals to lovers fic Jesus Christ.

Like genuinely picture this: y'all start out as two of the youngest and most popular up and coming artists on the scene.

Naturally that makes y'all rivals. Like the banter just will be flying between you out the wazoo. Sure you gotta try your best to be friendly for the cameras, but everyone can feel the sexual tension. It’s so thick you couldn’t cut it with a bloody chainsaw.

“Look who just washed up.” “Says the one who looks like the cat dragged them in” (author-san can't write clever banter to save her life please send help)

It would all come to a head during like an art gala or something like that. Neither of you wanted to go, but it was being held by a very influential art collector and you couldn’t afford to pass it up.

You get there and see each other and immediately start fighting like cats and dogs. After a while though, you two kinda stick with each other cause there’s literally no one else interesting to talk to at this party in y’all opinion.

You both bond over the fact that your managers forced you guys to be there, making fun of all the snooty rich people, and talking about the different ways you guys see art. You realize maybe the other isn’t so bad after all.

You enter the bright ballroom in a black dress suit, fluffed hair, and light makeup. Between the atmosphere and your stuffy clothes, you feel suffocated. To make matters worse you spit him at a table across from you. You lock eyes and share a silent look for a moment, but only for moment.

“Of course you’re here,” Rafayel scoffs.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Someone’s gotta remedy this atmosphere and it sure as hell isn’t gonna be you,” you reply sharing a glare with him.

You both turn your noses up at each other and walk away to go mingle. Soon you realize that everyone else at this damn party only wants to talk about money and flaunt about how rich they are. You take a seat at a table to take a break with some snacks and wine.

No way you can go through this sober.

As you begin to bite into one of the ridiculously small cupcakes someone plops their butt in the chair opposite you. Of course it’s your purple haired nemesis, who you’ve been trying to ignore all evening. You give him a look that seems to ask “what the hell do you want?”, but he flat out ignores the social cue in favor of making, albeit forced, conversation with you.

“If we were all trapped on a deserted island, who here do you think would get eaten first?” Rafayel asks.

“Huh?” You reply puzzled.

“If we were on a deserted island-”

“No I heard you, I’m just wonder what the actual fuck you’re talking about. Also why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be mingling and annoying someone else with your weird ass questions? Maybe even trying to get someone to go home with you; why are you suddenly giving me special treatment as if you don’t hate my guts?”

“Hey no fair! I asked my question first so it’s only polite that you answer”.

You roll your eyes before scanning them over the crowd. Your gaze falls upon a short round man in a bright yellow tux who seems to be sucking up to his superior. You gesture with your finger over your shoulder pointed at him, finally answering Rafayel’s questions with a nonchalant response.

“Mr. Lemon man over there. He looks like he would keep us fed for a little while and seems eager to please”.

“Smart choice. I would say people would be fighting over those yappy little purse dogs first, and then their owners,” He replies.

“And to answer your previous question, everyone here is such a pain to talk to. You can tell everyone here is lying through their teeth just to impress others and keep up appearances. At least you’re somewhat decent company and I can trust you to speak your mind.”

You flash him a sincere look before replying, “For once we agree on something,”.

“Alright my turn to ask a question,” You start but are quickly cut off.

“Bup bup bup. You already asked your question, now it’s my turn again,” Rafayel refutes.

“What that didn’t count!” You retort.

“Did too! A question is a question.”

You let out a reluctant huff, “Fine. I guess we’ve got all night to ask each other questions anyway”.

“That’s the spirit.”

You two continued this game of questions for the rest of the night and got to know each other better. Once you actually got to know him Rafayel didn't seem so bad. That night a rivalry turned into a bit of a friendship.

You started spending your art events together to make them more tolerable. Soon you guys started hanging out together outside of work.

Movie nights, restaurants, going to the park, walking on the beach. You may have still been friends, but your outings started to feel more and more romantic than platonic.

One day Rafayel invited you to see an ocean sunset with him for artistic inspiration. You guys had ice cream, played on the ocean, and walked along the beach barefoot to reach the peak of a sandy dune that he insisted was perfect for watching the sunset.

You guys sat and cuddled as you watched the sunlight aurora. He looked at you, you looked at him, and next thing you both know you guys are making out to the sunset.

“Rafayel what are we exactly?” “Well I would hope we’re dating now after having had the best kiss of my life”

And that was history.

You guys have a very teasing relationship. Always making fun of each other and being playful, but at the end of the day you guys still snuggle together.

I see Rafayel as a words of affirmations guy since he’s known for being flirty, but i can also see him getting flustered if you turn it against him.

I also see him as a quality time kind of dude because he can get very clingy petty and jealous if he doesn’t see or hang out with you for long periods of time.

He likes to use his tall af height to carry and throw you around like a ragdoll sometimes when he’s feeling silly or wants the upper hand in a petty argument.

You guys do get into more serious arguments sometimes cause you’re both very headstrong and prideful but you learn to set aside your differences for love and agree to disagree or learn to compromise.

You also help each other with your fears. You help him with his fear of cats and he helps you feel less nervous around boats and the ocean.

He kisses you on your piercing holes and over his favorite tattoos of yours while also showing you his own (this man has tattoos and piercings fight me i will die on the hill)

He loves when you play with his fluffy hair and will do skin routines with you. He buys you guys the really good expensive shit. When you’re famous you gotta look good.

Since his evol is fire related his hands and body temperature are pretty warm so he doesn’t mind your cold hands and will try to warm them up for you sometimes

He also loves how you’re interested in his history, culture, and language so he will teach you about them every chance he gets. (Idk how far in the story you are so im not gonna spoil where he’s from but trust me youll love it)

Overall your relationship is basically like having a best friend but you get to make out and do lovey dovey stuff together

[princelylove]

Hiii can i ask how would female Johnny be with a female s/o? (i mean because of the time period) and if she would be any different from male Johnny? thank you 😊 -Weird anon

No, no. I see the vision.

Fem Johnny is relatively the same. She's masculine rather than gender-conforming, and tends to place her value in her performances. She doesn't really care about the whole 'ohh, women shouldn't be out doing these kinds of thiiings' bullshit, she likes to race, so she's gonna race.

She probably figured out she likes girls from all the po- ... from all the lovely women she's spoken to over the course of her career. Guys just don't hit the same, you know? She's got nothin' against 'em, guys are great, she Loves the attention, but when she wins a trophy she wants to see some cleavage giving it to her.

It ain't gay to like some chest. Everybody looks, it's out, it isn't her fault. Especially in the summer, when the bugs are all out..... Huh? Were we talking about something?

I don't think Johnny's really bothered about the whole girl that likes girls thing. Her father might, but she doesn't really care. Girls are pretty, and as long as she's winning and therefore bringin' home the big bucks, who's to stop her?

She's not too keen on hiding you away, even if she gets strange looks. Johnny's needy, she can't stop touching you for the twenty minutes it takes to stop by a store and pick something up. One of her favorite activities is taking her horse out for a little walk- with you in her arms, praising her for the whole ride, bumpy or not.

[kaycode1999]

i'd like to request a matchup for MHA please! no rush 🩶 i'd also be happy to write a matchup in exchange for you at -> @frostfall-matches so you can pop your info into my inbox there if you'd like!

[ raven | afab, any pronouns | preference for a male match ]

- personality: distant, introverted but not shy, generally respectful of others but not particularly kind/sweet, somewhat apathetic, calm under pressure, extremely independent, confident and self-secure (can be arrogant!! but i try to keep my god complex under control lmao), can take criticism well, straightforward (blunt, sometimes tactless/insensitive), pretty sassy/snarky, tends to laugh off the severity of a situation, not very ambitious, moderate risk-taker (gets a thrill from risky situations, but tries to avoid lethal ones).

broad sense of humor (often more on the playful/absurd side), playful w/ friends, very teasing, mischievous, realist that leans optimistic, nosy and loves gossip/drama, a natural troublemaker/rulebreaker but also often unintentionally gets into trouble, comfortable with confrontation, a bit combative with authority and those who irritate me but is generally easygoing, intelligent, unsentimental, surprisingly low impulse control.

- love languages: physical touch and gifts. touch reserved for close friends/partners only, but i can get pretty cuddly with them. willing to make the first move/initiate affection in general.

- hobbies: video games (tactics, RPGs, visual novels), anime, drawing (mostly digital), painting (mostly watercolor), baking, cosplay, writing, reading (fantasy, suspense/thriller, psychological), caring for houseplants, home/decor DIY projects, hiking, jogging, thrill-seeking activities (adrenaline junkie).

- likes: cats, frogs, snakes, sweets, most fruits, lattes (especially chai), scented candles, piercings, tattoos, puns and lame dad jokes, cool weather, traveling, new experiences, learning languages (currently knows/studied: english, french, korean, latin), medieval history, the occasional lazy day, bantering with others, encouraging my friends' bad/risky decisions (i will even do it with them), lovingly teasing/bullying friends, when people cook for me.

- dislikes: dogs, horses, bitter foods, alcohol, strong scents, hot weather, spiders (other bugs are ok), long car rides, feeling restricted, conformity and blind obedience, having to be responsible for others or lead them, being vulnerable, when others are condescending towards me, people-pleasing behavior, when others step in to help without me asking.

- my type: decent sense of humor, banter/bickering and openness to being teased, self-awareness, independence. i like people with a bit of "bite" to them - i feel kinda bad interacting with people who are super nice/sweet bc i feel like i'm kinda mean HDJSH.

- fun facts: 155 cm / 5'1" ; INTJ, 7w8 ; i have 12 piercings (5 in one ear, 4+ an industrial in the other, and a navel piercing) ; quite clumsy, accident prone ; terrible sense of direction ; easily motion sick ; loves changing up hair often ; used to do gymnastics ; my hands and feet are always ice cold so i like subjecting my friends to them (sticking hands under their shirt, holding their hands/cheeks, tucking my feet beneath their legs if we're sitting on a couch together).

I match you with

Dabi

His personality matches yours in that he’s a bit distant and introverted and definitely not shy

He does have some… issues shall we say, so I wouldn’t necessarily call him respectful of others and he can definitely be apathetic to others

I think he needs someone a lot like you; calm under pressure- to keep his anger and impulsiveness in check, independent- because he himself is independent and I don’t think he’d do well someone who isn’t the same, confident and self secure- he’s been put through so much and made to feel like he’s never good enough so I think your confidence could rub off on him, straightforward-because he needs someone who’s willing to tell him what they need or if he’s done something wrong, etc

He needs someone who’s going to give him back the sass/snark he gives them

He enjoys your humor and loves the micheiousness

He’s probably more pessimistic so to him your optimistic and he admires that

It’s been a long time if he’s ever had physical affection so he’s not used to it at first, but eventually he’ll get used to it and enjoy cuddling with you

He did see how terribly his father treated his mother growing up, and although he has done some terrible things and is a villain he would never want to treat his partner like that

At first he’s more timid and uncertain when it comes to how he treats you because he’s so terrified of perpetuating the cycle, that and he hasn’t exactly been in a relationship before. Eventually he’ll get comfortable and confident within your relationship, just be a little patient with him