#sso fic

[natduskfall]

My entry for the SSOBLR Big Bang to accompany @wildweavewriting's fic!

[lilisjorvikadventures]

Welcome to Fort Maria

She has been waiting for you.

Feel invited

by all her knowledge

and all her secrets.

What will you do, traveller?

Will you study the past?

Are you looking to the future?

Are you the one writing History?

Are you ready for what you will find in these halls?

Are you ready for all she has to offer?

Are you ready?

[jorvikpov]

Jorvik feels strange these days.

For a time, you thought the world as you knew it was doomed to end. That you would be forced to stand by and watch as the island succumbed to the storm. Now, you know better. It never will. Not as long as your age-old magic courses through its roots. Not as long as the moon and stars shine upon it. Still, you sometimes feel like everything did end, only in a different way; nothing feels like before, after all, and what is an ending if not simply great, irreversible change? Jorvik is quiet. Calm. Peaceful. There’s nothing lurking in the shadows. There’s nobody watching your every move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Your dreams and visions carry little meaning, for there is little to be said.

Everything has changed, and yet you are no different, no more or less, than you have always been. You are still everything. You are still only you. Your horse is by your side as always, warm and comforting and just as unchanged as you are. When you look up to the sky, you still see yourself in every ray of sun and in the moon and stars beyond and in the clouds slowly rolling away over the eastern mountains. In Silverglade, just by the forest’s edge, there is a small, snowy meadow. It shines a brilliant golden white, lit up by warm, bright sunbeams, and perhaps, too, by the ancient light shining deep within you. There is laughter all around, bubbling with quiet, comfortable joy. One of your friends calls out a name that’s yours, and yet isn’t. You aren’t sure where the line is drawn—in fact, you aren’t always sure it exists at all—but you don’t truly care to find out. You are still you, after all, regardless of how much else you also are. When your friend shares the joke she just told the other three, you laugh with your whole heart.

The days are slowly but surely growing brighter. With each rise and fall of the sun, you feel your breathing grow easier and easier. You are no longer bound by fate, nor by duty. You have not attempted to prod at the future beyond the rare, peaceful visions that come to you of their own volition; it will bring whatever it may. You have learned by now that the island will take you where you need to be. These days, you trust it more than ever.

All you know right now is this: tonight, the stars will be bright and the northern lights vivid across the night sky. Tomorrow, the sun will rise a little earlier than it did today, and the island it casts light upon will be different in one of the small ways it is every morning. The sun will keep rising and falling. Keep changing the island little by little. Winter will become spring and the rivers will melt, rushing once again down to the ocean, and in the awakening forests every bird will come together in a choir of chirps and whistles. Spring will become summer, and the neverending sunlight will blaze hot and bright even filtered through the crowns of the forests’ many trees. Summer will become autumn, colouring the island in golds and reds and oranges and bringing rainstorms the likes of which you’ll wonder if you’ve ever seen. One night late in October, the first frost will fall, and then once again it will be winter, all muted blue days and snow glittering in the moonlight. With every passing year, Jorvik will be different in one of the small ways it always is. You don’t yet know how, and you don’t care to.

Whatever it brings, it will be the future. That is all you could ever ask for.

[corinne-eaglebridge-sso]

The Soul Riders go thrifting for winter clothes.

SSOpromptober day 17: Jorvik City SSOpromptoween day 7: boot, day 14: sweater, day 17: warm

Some nice fluff today! Not much to say about it, to be honest, except for soul riders my beloved. Can be read as platonic or as soulycule (aka romantic) but either way I love them!!! So much!!!

[candlemouse]

Meeting the Parents

Alex Cloudmill/Maya Dew

Ao3 Link <- Consider leaving comments/kudos here!

Butterflies brawled in Alex’s stomach, and she wiped her hands on her pants again. For like the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

No, it wasn’t Garnok rising or Sabine or Katja or—

“They’re going to love you, Alex.” Maya smiled and interlocked her fingers with Alex. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Alex shifted in the dining booth and nodded with false bravado. “I’m not nervous.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Maya said. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

Their booth in the Coffe Pot Café overlooked the Dundull bay and in the early morning, Alex could watch the fishermen set up their sails for the day.

“Okay,” Alex said. She smiled at Maya. Her warmth was so infectious, and Alex never wanted to be without it. “I’m nervous. But not as nervous as I was a few minutes ago.”

“Good,” Maya said. “Now, imagine how I felt when I had to meet the Mayor of one of the biggest and busiest cities in Jorvik because he was my girlfriend’s brother!”

It still made Alex giddy when she heard Maya call her her girlfriend. It was a novelty, okay? And even if it became habitual, Alex didn’t think her happiness at that name would fade, anyway.

“Technically, Mayor Peanut is Fort Pinta’s mayor. You just met his assistant.” Alex brought their entwined hands up and kissed Maya’s. “Besides, James is all bark and no bite.”

“To you! He immediately started quizzing me on every detail of my stay in Fort Pinta until he found another opportunity to make money.”

“He is nothing if not dedicated.”

“I think that runs in the family.”

Alex laughed.

“Maya!”

Alex straightened. Maya’s parents had arrived. They shared Maya’s green eyes, but not her red hair. As they exchanged hugs and hellos, Alex stood to the side glancing anywhere but at the family. She wasn’t used to such overt familial affection, and the brawling butterflies in her stomach had graduated to a full on fight ring.

“Ma, Pa.” Maya took Alex’s hand and smiled at her. “This is Alex.”

Alex inclined her head with an awkward smile. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Us too!” Mrs. Dew beamed.

They all sat down in the booth and continued their conversation.

“Your mother was so excited, I don’t think she spoke a single word about anything else the whole bus ride,” Mr. Dew complained.

“Well, Maya had told me so much about you, Alex, that it was hard to wait!” Her mother began to scan the menu. “Though, you must forgive me, but it’s slipped my mind what you do for a living.”

“Oh, well, I’m in druidic training at the moment,” Alex replied. She was sure it was not what her girlfriend’s parents wanted to hear—that she was joining a secretive religious sect, but there wasn’t much truth Alex was able to tell Maya’s parents. So, she was trying not to lie when she could. If everyone knew about the true danger and magic of the world…maybe it would be better. But, alas, Fripp would have her head. Not that he doesn’t already have a million reasons to be mad at her, anyway. “But, I help my brother out at Fort Pinta sometimes, too.”

“Druidic training?” Mr. Dew asked. “That’s…”

“Remember our blacksmith back in the day, honey? He was a druid.” Mrs. Dew pointed out.

“Alex is great at it, too, guys,” Maya said. “She’s even on this task force that helps out across Jorvik.”

“Oh! Didn’t you say you had picnics with…oh, what was their name? One of Alex’s colleagues.” Mrs. Dew said.

“Yeah, we have picnics with one of my, um, co-workers in the Forgotten Fields,” Alex said.

“That’s so darling,” Mrs. Dew said. “Do you like it in Jarlaheim?”

“Oh, Jarlaheim’s a beautiful city, but I don’t actually live there,” Alex said.

“Oh, I must have heard Maya wrong, then,” Mrs. Dew said. “Where do you live?”

“I have a house in Valedale, but I do often stay with Maya in the Harvest Counties. It’s easier that way.” Alex fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “Plus, I have a good friend in Jarlaheim that will let me crash if need be.”

“Oh good, good,” Mrs. Dew said.

The waitress came to take their drink orders and then was off.

“This Dundull weather is beautiful, isn’t it, Ma?”

“Oh, yes. I love the sea breeze,” Mrs. Dew said. She folded her napkin in her lap. “Alex, do you like Fort Pinta, Jarlaheim, or Valedale best?”

“There’s great things about all of Jorvik, of course. But, I do really like living in Jarlaheim. It reminds me of home. The music scene is really great.”

“What kind of music are you into?”

“Hip-hop. Some rock. What about you?”

“Ooh, I like Jazz,” Mrs. Dew said. “The blues.”

“She plays it non-stop,” Mr. Dew added. “Where did you say your hometown was?”

“Jorvik City.”

“We live there now! Which part?” Mrs. Dew asked.

“Governor’s Fall. I really did love it, but at some point, my family just couldn’t afford to live there anymore,” Alex said. It was bittersweet but Alex was glad for the memories she made there.

“You both will have to visit us next time in Jorvik City,” Mrs. Dew said.

“Ma, I don’t like the city. I can’t bring Elli with me.” Maya pouted. It was funny. Maya was completely at ease, as she should be with her parents, but Alex felt like she was currently acting the most professional and polite she ever has.

“I’m sure your horse will be okay for a few days alone.”

“No, she won’t.”

The conversation devolved into a light-hearted argument about Elli being able to handle some alone time that was interrupted by their waiter taking their drink orders. The dinner continued in a similar banter, and the tension that Alex had held slowly dissipated.

By the time they were exchanging goodbyes, Alex really felt close to them.

Once they were gone, Alex and Maya started walking to the Dundull stable.

“They really like you a lot, you know,” Maya said. She squeezed Alex’s hand.

Alex knew she had issues with parental figures. It was an obvious consequence of her childhood that manifested in both avoidance and over-attachment to her older mentors. Especially with Elizabeth gone, Alex felt like she had to re-confront all her mental struggles all over again.

She was glad to have Maya by her side, and a small part of her hoped that one day, just maybe, she could call Maya’s parents her own.

Ao3 Link <- Consider leaving comments/kudos here!

[equestrianequivalent]

Been a while, hasn't it?

Hello there! It's been one hell of a while! But I did it, I've finally gotten all the first 28 chapters reuploaded, and 29 is finally uploaded.

I would suggest that you at least read the author's note at the start of chapter 29 if you want to be caught up quickly, the longer version is in the pinned post of this blog.

With that being said, enjoy peak fiction!

[dustymisgestaltsso]

Dusty was winded. He was laid sprawled on his left side. There was gravel in his mouth; he could tell by the taste something was wrong with it. The grains, despite being warm to the touch, sucked heat and sensation from his jaw. He hurried to spit out as much as he could. His eyes were caked shut with wetness and he brought the side of his right hand to wipe his eyes and mouth. Upon opening an eye, he was met with a Pandorian horizon. The sun had been replaced with a moon that shone an ethereal, off-white pink through the haze of pink and violet that coated everything in this place. He shoved himself onto his back and looked upwards around him; from what he could tell, he had fallen from the island where Anne had been imprisoned. He could see the glow of the crystal she was held in creeping over the edge of the cliff above him.

Finally churning out some fanfic! This is a work that starts out with Dusty trapped in pandoria after the Darko race you encounter after the first visit to Prison Island. He's stranded and injured and has to find his way out, and from there it'll be his journey of healing and readjustment.

[sso-fic-wishlist]

Welcome to the SSO Fic Wishlist!

Have you ever wished that you could read a Star Stable Online fic without having to write it yourself? Or are you a writer desiring inspiration for what to write, or simply in the mood to fulfill somebody's wish? This is the blog for you!

If you have an idea for a fic you'd love to see written by somebody else, however detailed or non-detailed, you are very welcome to send it in as a submission.

Posted fic wishes will be tagged #fic wishes. Should a fic wish be completed, the post will be edited to add a link to the fic and then reblogged to bring the wish's completion to people's attention. Completed fic wishes will be tagged #completed fic wishes.

If you have written a fic based on a wish, please DM me a link to the fic as well as the wish it's based on (either the wish in text or the post it originated from)! Of course, you are also welcome to promote it as much as you would like to in other places - I do not claim exclusive marketing rights to your fic, I would simply like to add it to the wish post.

[jorvikzelda]

Chapters: 6/6 Words: 7,573 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Cloudmill/Maya Dew, Anne von Blyssen & Linda Chanda Characters: Alex Cloudmill, Maya Dew, Lisa Peterson, Linda Chanda, Anne von Blyssen, mentioned MC, the Soul Riders' horses and also Misty make minor appearances Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Angst, Open Ending, Hopeful Ending

The August night is dark and the stars bright when five young heroes leave Jorvik’s western shores. Tomorrow, all will be well, but tonight they find themselves in the strange space between the happy ending and the bright, hopeful future.

Or: the night after Garnok, one Soul Rider at a time.

[idrille]

Anne & Derek; On friendship and first impressions

(technically canon one-shot. but canon is not heeded too closely)

.

Things Derek knows about Anne von Blyssen:

She is 5’11’’. She has long, pale blonde hair. She has a prominent, pointed nose; a similar chin. She has the kind of eyes that photograph fearsomely well.

She’s eighteen, a straight-As student, and a dressage prodigy. It’s a toss-up as to whether she’ll be shipped off overseas for university or the show circuit; it’s a given, one way or another, that she’ll be shipped off the very hour she graduates Jorvik High. Today she’ll be photographed on that huge horse of hers, the only, according to some junior attendants on set, friend she has.

Which brings him to his final fact:

Anne von Blyssen is rude.

He doesn’t know this, not for sure—not from personal experience. There are stories, that’s all.

It’s a blue autumn day when he arrives at the stable. He drops his bag on a nearby table. The girl herself is seated in a makeup chair. Two artists are on her while she types furiously on her cellphone.

Derek takes a long breath, then goes to introduce himself.

“Hey,” he says, coming around to her side. Flashes his most charming smile. “You’re Anne?”

She looks up at him. “Hi. Yes. And you’re Derek.”

Not a lilt in her tone. The deadpan delivery would be humorous if not for the abject humorlessness in her deep set eyes.

Two ways to look at a girl.

From the artist’s perspective: She’s beautiful, that’s for sure. Her cheekbones are fantastic and her hair will shine in a perfect way. She’ll be easy, she’ll be perfect, and the hours will go quick.

From the twenty year old kid’s perspective: He’s got to get out of this conversation before she sees him blush.

“Yeah.” He huffs an awkward laugh. “Yep. Yep. So, yeah. I’ll be shooting you today, you and your horse—”

“Concorde,” she supplies. She’s got the most mesmerizing eyes. A slim teal headband holds back her impressive length of hair.

“Concorde! Yes. We’ll try to keep it quick.” He scratches his neck. “Yeah. Okay. So I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He turns and darts away. Might as well get set up.

.

Anne von Blyssen is, in a word, elegance.

The girl he shot earlier today, Jessica, was also gorgeous, in that dark way that’s been so in style the past few years. Brazen in front of a camera, shooting her was quick, was good, was convenient.

Anne holds her massive horse by the reins. She wears a dark, spotless dressage habit, top hat and whip and all. That pale gold hair is swept up, pinned back—leaving nothing, nothing at all, to pull away from that horrible and extraordinary blue gaze of hers.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until he realizes she’s staring at him, a stiff inquisition in her shoulders.

“Okay, Anne,” he calls. “I’m gonna get a couple shots with you on the ground, and then we’ll have you mounted. Sound good?”

She gives him a shallow nod.

“Great. We’ll get a wide shot, first. Then I’ll come up close.”

.

He was right. It goes quickly.

Anne von Blyssen is magic.

She urges her horse into a canter and then, as all the sun falls onto her face, she smiles—

.

She gets the job, suffice to say.

Anne von Blyssen, the new face of the Glamour No. 5 campaign.

.

They start to see each other quite a bit. Autumn is stiff, freezing into winter. Anne wears a huge white sweater and jeans and fuzzy socks. She’s curled up in the corner of the dressing room, nose tucked to her shoulder, and he thinks, in a bizarre moment, that she looks like a swan, sleeping.

Then she blinks, and straightens, when she sees him approaching.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and holds out the coffee. “Two sugars, no cream. It’s still hot—”

She grabs it and takes a long sip, heedless of his warning. Her eyes flutter to a brief close. “You’re a gem, Derek,” she says, and pats the floor next to her. “God. I was freezing.”

“They’re working on the radiators now.” He sinks down next to her. He does his best to ignore how her perfume, warm and musky, fills the space.

“And the shoot?”

He checks his watch. “In the next hour or so. You tired?”

“No,” she says, in the tone that he’s come to learn means yes.

Anne is tired, most of the time.

.

December.

She’s bundled up in a pale coat and three periwinkle scarves and laughs a small laugh as she leads him into the barn. “It’s high time you met him,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Anne’s monstrosity of a horse—Concorde—hangs his handsome head over the stall door. He gives a low nicker at the sight of his owner.

“He’s huge,” says Derek dumbly.

“He’s a sweetheart,” Anne tells him, and waves him off. “C’mere. Say hello.” She kisses the tip of her horse’s nose.

Derek steps up hesitantly. “Hello, Concorde.”

She grabs his arm in a hard grip and pulls him closer. “Not like that, silly. He knows when you don’t mean it. Be serious.”

“I was being serious!”

“Be serious,” she tells him seriously. Then she grins, and her whole face lights up. The worlds he sometimes sees passing beneath her pale eyes sparkle and gleam.

“Hello, Concorde,” he tries again, and ignores, for his own sake, how her long fingers are still gripped around his arm. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Derek.”

Concorde peers at him with one great dark eye.

“Don’t worry,” Anne whispers, “I’ve told him about you.”

“You have conversations with your horse?” he whispers back.

“Yes.” Her eyes sparkle as she leans close. “He’s my very best friend and he thinks you’ve got a good nose but ridiculous hair.”

He lifts a conscious hand to his messy, unstyled hair. “Not funny.”

“Not me. I think you’ve got lovely hair.”

Then, for god’s sake, he blushes, and Anne smiles again.

.

Things Derek knows about Anne von Blyssen:

She’s an avid reader. Prefers Emily to Charlotte but has never tried her hand at Anne, ironically. She likes calculus despite generally disliking math. She had a gray cat named Fiona when she was little. She thinks about Fiona every time she rides by the oak outside the stable. She does not say why.

She doesn’t like new people. She has a hard time with people in general, she admits wryly. Even when there’s nothing going on she feels like there’s too much going on. She likes winter because everything’s quiet and the sun is warm but it isn’t hot. She likes the snow even when it’s sludge.

Her cheeks go bright pink when she smiles, when she laughs for real, and her eyes squeeze shut. When she’s really laughing, she doesn’t make a sound except a faint hissing. She cries when she laughs like that. She doesn’t laugh like that often but it’s always hilarious when she does.

She doesn’t have many friends. She knows a lot of people, she tells him, but she doesn’t have many friends. She thinks she wants to be closer with a couple girls from school. They ride too, she says. They board their horses with Concorde. He likes them.

She’s tired most of the time. She’s sad a lot, too.

She doesn’t tell him that, but he can tell.

.

Spring, and the flowers are shy. He finds her sitting on a small hill outside the stable. Her boots are half unlaced and her hair is loose, sweaty bits still plastered to her temples. She doesn’t turn at the sound of his approach, but her shoulders shift near indecipherably. Her own hello.

“Hey,” he says.

She pats the ground and when he joins her, she looks at him, and smiles. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Fine.” He rests his arms on his knees. She’s normally quiet. She’s very quiet today, and has been all throughout the shoot and her lesson after. “Want to use my camera?”

She cocks her head, pale hair sliding over her shoulder. “Hm?”

“Want to take a picture? It’s easy. I’ll even pose for you.”

Rolling her eyes, she takes the proffered camera. “Idiot. I know how to use a camera.” She tosses her hair back and shifts to face him. “Okay, Derek. Give me your best look.”

Suddenly conscious of her eyes behind the lens, he gives a panicked kind of a smile, tight-lipped, and it becomes genuine when she snorts a laugh. Click.

“How is it?”

She holds her hand over the small screen, squinting. “It’s good,” she says. “Let me take another one. Smile.”

He obliges.

Click.

“I’m beautiful, aren’t I?”

He intended it to be in jest. She doesn’t laugh—but she nods solemnly, and raises the camera again. “Yes,” she hums. “Very.” Then she pauses. “How do you zoom? Zoom in?”

.

Anne is cold in summer, shining with sweat and victory though she often is; she rarely speaks. He sees glimpses once again of the girl he was told of. But he knows her too well now, and loves her a little, too. He gets a soda from the vending machine and plucks a pink straw as a plus.

He puts it in front of her, where she sits at a peeling green picnic bench. She takes it with a disgruntled look.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You okay?”

She nods firmly, taking a long sip.

“I’m heading out, then. I’ll see you…” He frowns. His calendar is packed.

“Monday,” she murmurs.

“Monday,” he echoes. She’s so pale, has she always been this pale? Her long hair is splattered over her shoulders. Even in the heat she’s a pillar of ice, an iron wall, cold to touch. “Anne,” he whispers, and leans over the table, closer to her. “Talk to me.”

She scowls fiercely. Her eyes burn and gleam. “What do you want me to say, exactly?” she hisses. “You wouldn’t listen. You’d say I’m crazy.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would.” Her fingers are white around the soda can. “Weren’t you just leaving?”

.

Monday she finds him first. Offers him a cold, sweating soda. A pink straw already shoved in.

She is more beautiful when she’s real, he’s learned. Cut offs and sneakers and a ragged gray tank top, cheeks shining red; a pimple patch on her chin.

“Thanks,” he says eagerly, before she can dart away.

She doesn’t make an escape, though, and silently hops up beside him on the tall stone wall. They sit like that for a while. Watching the paddock dirt simmer and wave in the heat.

“Everything’s going to change,” she tells him, in a sad voice.

He looks at her and her face is open in a rare way. Despair and grief and resignation are written all over her strong nose and taut cheeks and mouth, drooping and long. The worlds in her eyes are dim and gray.

“Anne—”

She silences him with a fierce look. “Everything will change, Derek. I know everything. I’m eighteen years old.” A line appears between her pale brows. “I know too much.”

The cicadas are shrill as the afternoon fades. He’s sweaty and hot but Anne is beside him, strands of her hair stuck to her neck. Eventually he reaches over and puts his palm under hers. Her hand is warm. Her fingers interlace with his.

.

[indestinatus]

page fifty-seven

summary: “You were thinking of doing page 57 with me.”

As they continue to work together, something in Mossad Liason’s officer remains bugging him. But Tony’s mind is treacherous. It returns to the beautiful stranger every time. AKA—the time Tony and Ziva revisit page 57 in the secret summer of sex.

NSFW.

read it on ao3

[cmentary-drive]

i have a super power and its making sabine look wrong

[jorvikpov]

All around you, the ocean is dark and wild. Cold, harsh winds howl over Jorvik, whipping flurries of snowflakes around the ocean and tossing foaming waves ever harder onto the shore. You stand untouched in the eye of the storm, where all is eerily still. Face to face with you is the tempest’s catalyst.

An ancient creature towers over you. He does not move closer. Neither do you. You look into his many eyes, and for a moment, you almost feel like the two of you could come to an understanding. In some strange way, you are a pair—parallel lines across time and space, intersecting only at the very beginning and in this very moment. You have trodden the same path, separated only by the line between good and evil, and now you must both destroy the other. For a moment, you almost feel like there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. Perhaps he loves this island just as much as you. Perhaps there is more to this than you thought.

Except then his eyes harden, and he moves to harm you. You cannot let it happen. Your paths may run parallel, but here, his must end. You cannot let his chaos reign over Jorvik. You cannot let the Dark Riders succeed. It was you, though it may have been a different you, who brought life to this island many, many years ago. He had no part in that creation. He has no part in that joy. He will have no part in the island’s future.

Deep within your soul, something is beginning to slowly buzz and hum. It grows into a quiet ringing in your ears and then a rushing and roaring through your body, no longer a hum but rather loud, garbled noises. You have never felt anything like it before, and yet it feels almost familiar. It is overwhelming; by this point, you feel like it consumes your entire being, and yet it is still growing. It wants to grow far, far beyond anything you have ever done. For a moment, you hesitate, tightening the reins on it and slowing, almost stopping, the flow of magic.

In front of you is an ancient, towering being, lit up by a gentle, golden glow. His many eyes bore into yours. His many limbs reach for you, stretching and curling through the air. The magic strains at the rope that you hold it by.

Let go.

The roaring in your ears grows.

You will know what to do.

You take a deep breath, and then you let go.

There is a great, primitive roar, like that of something ancient and unknowable coming back to life. It is no longer in your ears, but a real, deafening sound. It may be yours. It may be his. It doesn’t truly matter. It grows and grows until you can hear little else. Though you can hardly see it from the eye of your own storm, you know that you glow with something ancient and powerful. The Light Ceremony could never have held a candle to you. What you are doing is something unspoken, unknown, unknowable. Even you hardly know what it is, only that you can and must do it. 

You need not even ask your horse to step forward. In this moment, you are as good as one. It moves closer to him, and he recoils, almost as if in pain. The light is so bright that it is almost blinding, and your throat is beginning to grow sore. Your small, fragile human body was not made for this—your hands, your eyes, your heart are beginning to burn and to ache—and yet, this is where you belong. Magic courses from the depths of Jorvik’s roots and through your bloodstream, radiating out from every inch of your being. The dam is broken down and long forgotten, as are the reins and ropes you held around your magic. There are no more reasons to hesitate.

Though you aren’t sure how you know to do it, you raise a hand. Your light shifts. Focuses on him. He begins to recoil, as if in pain. Your roar grows louder and your light brighter until you cannot see or hear anything else. You close your eyes. The island courses through you. Galloping hooves. The moon and stars behind the thick, dark clouds. The raging storm. There is a second roar. It is not yours. It is something deeper. It is desperate. Pained. Garnok’s. Your light is bright even through your closed eyelids. The wind whips around you. Snow lashes into your face. You stand your ground.

His time is up.

There is a sound so loud that you cannot hear it and a light so bright that you cannot see it. Then, it is truly silent. Dark. Peaceful. The storm has stilled. The chorus of roaring has gone quiet. You need not open your eyes to know that he is gone, but you do anyway, so that you may see the world.

He is.

In front of you is a vast expanse of darkness. The ocean, you realise once your senses begin to reaccustom themselves to the world. The moon is bright, almost perfectly half-full, and its light glitters in the water. The waves lap gently against the shore. A gentle wind blows past you, rustling the fabric of your coat before moving further along the coast. You look up at the sky, eyes still adjusting to the low light, and one by one, the stars begin to blink into place.

At long last, there is peace.

[corinne-eaglebridge-sso]

Lisa bakes a treat for her and Starshine.

SSOpromptober day 9: carrot, day 30: gallop SSOpromptoween day 4: sunflower, day 6: orange, day 15: carrot, day 30: treat

Fluff my beloved <3 It's harder to write fluff for me (I tend towards angst) but I do love it! Oh man... only one fic left. Happy early Halloween, guys!

[sailorstickybunz]

call me a degenerate braindead freak but usually i have no desire to read smut

[equestrianequivalent]

QuintSum Chapters 31 + 32 are now up on Ao3. Please enjoy! (I'm actually really proud of them.)