#the horse is clearly too sick to let live

[dumpster-fire-chronicles]

Don’t you think if the horse is back in the hospital for a second time, it should be put down?

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Three- The Coronation

Summary- The coronation has come about on an even day.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Mention of (dragon) depression. Bitchy Cregan Stark. Cunnilingus. Fingering. P in V sex. Descriptions of child sexual abuse. Aemond’s brothel trauma. Still angsty babes.

Author's Note- This chapter is a beast besties (10.3k😬) brace yourselves. Link to the full story belowwww

series masterlist

This high up, surrounded by nothing but the mist of the clouds and the frigid air, she feels as though she could go anywhere. It would be easy. One word and Silverwing would turn and fly across the Narrow Sea, deliver them both to the Free Cities. She could live well enough in Pentos or Myr, surviving off the good will of others and the menace that comes from her dragon. It would be an easy life, one that is becoming more and more appealing as the descent brings them lower, but she does not have Silverwing turn. Instead they continue their descent over Blackwater Bay, casting a dark shadow over the half repaired city below them before landing before the ruins of the Dragonpit.

It has yet to be touched since the storming of the pit, only the bodies having been cleared away, graves dug for the Dragonkeepers nearby. Being here makes her feel sick but it is the only place near enough to the Red Keep that can accommodate a safe landing. Even here though, it is difficult, Silverwing hovering in the air for a moment before finally managing to find a place clear enough of rubble to land comfortably.

Ser Willis Fell is waiting for them nearby, sitting proud atop his horse with the reins of another clutched in his fist. He inclines his head in greeting when she looks his way but she takes her time in dismounting. She stays in the saddle for a moment too long, only coming down when Silverwing lets out a mildly irritated huff, more than prepared to return to her nest after flying for so long. Though she loves to fly, she has noticed her dragon longing more and more for her nest these past few months. She has assumed that the loss of Vermithor, of her mate, has made her melancholy and she cannot find the heart to push her when she is so clearly devasted. They are two fragile beings now, broken and battered, and she can do nothing but pray that their bond will help get them through this.

Silverwing drops her head when she finally dismounts and she raises a hand to her muzzle, running it over warm dragonscale. Silverwing lets out another huff, bathing her in the smell of sulfur and ash with her breath and she lets her forehead rest on the dragon's nose for a moment. She breathes in the comforting smell of dragon, not quite ready to return to the Keep yet but knowing she has no choice, before stepping back with a nod. Though Silverwing hesitates for a moment, eventually she manages to depart, the beat of her wings sending the dust around them swirling.

With a haggard sigh, she turns on her heel and makes her way toward Ser Willis and the horses. They both balk somewhat when they smell the dragon on her, taking small steps back to distance themselves, but they are well trained enough not to run. Ser Willis dismounts at her approach, inclining his head, and she manages a small smile.

"Ser," she greets, acutely aware that this man was present on her wedding night, the memory forever lodged into her mind like an axe in a tree.

"Your grace. I trust you had a pleasant ride," he says, ever the picture of duty, one hand offered to her while the other holds the reins steady.

"I always do," she sighs, taking his hand and allowing him to aid her in mounting her horse.

She turns her chin up to watch Silverwing as she leaves, wings spread wide as she returns to the caves above the sea. Already there is a longing in her chest, wanting nothing more than to go with her, but instead she looks toward Ser Willis and offers him a nod, allowing him to lead the way back to the Keep.

With the coronation scheduled to happen the following afternoon, the main streets are far too chaotic to attempt to travel them. With so many lords and ladies still scheduled to arrive throughout the day, they are too crowded to so much as walk through, much less ride through on horseback or, Gods forbid, in a wheelhouse. Instead, Ser Willis takes them through the backroads, riding so close that their horses are all but pressed chest to flank. It is a poorer part of the city so she knows what he is expecting. For some cutthroat or beggar to come lunging from a dark corner in an attempt to slit her throat or steal his money purse, but other than a few bewildered stares followed by hasty bows, no one comes forward. She assumes they are all too busy watching the arriving lords, the current retinue making their way through the opposite street to so much fanfare she feels she may go deaf.

She looks over her shoulder to glance at Ser Willis, eyes still locked on the opposite street. "Who's arriving, do you know?"

He follows her gaze to stare through the awnings, squinting in an attempt to make out the heraldry. "House Karstark, I believe. No doubt Lord Stark is not far behind."

That gets her attention. She looks at Ser Willis for a moment, knowing her disbelief is palpable. Jace had written to her about Lord Cregan, every word filled with admiration and respect. He had gushed about how she must meet him, how after the war they would take their dragons and fly north so he may show her everything he had experienced there. He had raved about the weirwood forests, the Old Gods, the people who lived there. He had loved all of it but he had loved Cregan most of all. They had gotten on so well she had half the mind to believe they were brothers separated in the womb from the way he spoke of the young lord. When we go north together, he had said, you will see what kind of man he is. You will love him as I do.

She had wanted to meet him.

Jace had wanted her to meet him.

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @lokiofasgard12 @ashovertheriver @hypocritic-trash-baby @heavenly1927 @bunbunbl0gs @divxnee @hopebaker

bolded couldn’t be tagged :(

[kalims]

the day we met.

and to think i promised i wouldn't fall in love.

characters. dorm leaders

cw. not proofread

note. just some random hcs.. I wonder who can recognize what post this resembles hehe.. AKA title

pls read malleus' part mwahahaha I like it

riddle rosehearts keeps you on your toes (quite literally.) if it weren't for him you're sure you would have fallen off the horse that seems awfully intent on driving you off it's back to a face full of mud. clearly he was lying when he said 'beverly' was a fairly nice horse... she's literally the living spawn of a demon! but you can say that she counts for a pretty great wing.. horsewoman? how else would you get the esteemed riddle to handle you so delicately?

leona oddly resembles a cat... (technically he is one.) but he really likes to nap, you're sure his daily schedule involves sleeping, eating, looking dead every time of the day he's awake then going back to sleep—let's not forget the favorite thing cats love to either knead with their paws or lay on! in this case it's you. at some point you had to tip toe and keep quiet everywhere so he doesn't hear, and promptly snatch you for the rest of the day.

the bounds azul would go for you is a little concerning but you're there for them all the well. as far as you knew on campus he was banned from making contracts but the cheeky little octopus had simply smirked when he casually says that the headmaster never said out of campus.. if he isn't there then how would he know? he just has to lure out whoever was the one that was stupid enough to bother you out of campus, hm... this is a job for the eels, no?

to be honest. forget about azul, kalim would do anything for your expense. it doesn't matter if you ask directly or not, just an implication is enough to trigger his impulsive decisions. seriously though, jamil is begging you to be considerate of what you say around kalim. you don't want him actually purchasing a whole country if you accidentally imply you want to rule one. again, be careful or you'll be smothered by his love, and deep gold pockets.

vil has a tendency to stare. believe it or not, even though it might seem like it would be the other way around you do catch his gaze sometimes but he always ends up trying to play it off. maybe he's sick or something? was there something on your face? (vil: yeah perfection) you find out not to point it out though, last time you did you got ignored with a huff. more so when you catch sight of a furious blush you almost mistook as too much of the makeup product. (no such person like vil wouldn't notice how red his cheeks would be if it was that case.)

besides the unintentional spoiling from kalim (who genuinely just thinks you deserve it all as a form of his love and affection.) idia is by no means poor. how else could he afford all the latest parts for his technology? let alone whale on the games he likes to play. this man spoils you intentionally. if he knows you want a character, weapon, or certain item he's getting his hands on it and giving it all to you. a collector's item? easy. it doesn't matter if the price is too high on the bar, nothing would ever compare to you anyways.

malleus is on your side, always. it doesn't matter if you're actually wrong about something, he's siding with you and defending you with his life 💀 you burned down a building knowing full well that the fire is a big possibility? everyone makes mistakes though... according to malleus draconia everybody. one of the strongest person in twisted wonderland is either the next 100% win rate lawyer or some random person making third grade defenses. there's no in between. that or he's making the dumbest excuse and actually making good points right after.

[verdemoun]

au where fuck john marston because playing the epilogue has me upset. let kieran and mary-beth have the beecher's hope happiness

john replaces kieran in horsemen apocalypses with obviously much more devastating impacts

abigail is completely catatonic, leaving it to the gang to take over being jack's full-time carers

it has never been more obvious john was dutch's favorite son. chapter 5 levels of instability with hosea still there to watch his downfall and try to pick up the pieces

the gang go after colm in braithwaite fashion. in the process they discover colm has been working with bronte as mules to run bronte's weapon selling operation, and it was bronte that revealed where the gang were hiding thus leading to john's death

hosea joins in the assault on bronte's mansion, seeing dutch kill bronte and making a grim comment about not being the man he knew[loved], which almost seems to pull dutch out of it

no one realises hosea had in fact been shot until he falls off silver dollar dead, his last words to dutch anger and disgust

the gang are still forced to flee to beaver hollow in the aftermath of bronte's death, which the gang were much more visible and destructive in. all that was left of the mansion was soot-covered marble

except, kieran was able to claim colm's bounty AND retrieve the blackwater money, as an unknown member of the gang with no bounty in west elizabeth. there was an unspoken tension of the gang knowing they had enough money to flee, but dutch has no plan. dutch doesn't care anymore. he misses hosea, he misses his son

as micah becomes a more vocal presence and dutch has clearly reached a point of not caring, the gang falls apart quicker. arthur, knowing he's sick, forces lenny to leave and go find the future hosea wanted for him. strauss and trelawney both leave of their own accord. charles leaves to help the wapiti earlier, while eagle flies recovers from a bullet wound acquired trying to steal back their horses alone. miss grimshaw, seeing her words have no impact on dutch, who is no longer the passionate, charismatic man she had once loved, takes karen and tilly before their alcoholism/loyalty kills them both (arthur aggressively encouraging tilly as a sibling)

mary-beth stays because kieran (who she has fallen more and more in love with, and had those feeling requited) refuses to leave arthur, who he considers a friend and is devastated to watch waste away from illness and mourning, and because she is the only one left who can take care of jack.

abigail is captured by pinkertons, but with john's death, seeing how happy jack has been with mary-beth (who saved jack during the pinkerton attack, and can read with him and seemingly be a better mother than she has ever felt she was) fights more recklessly and is killed saving arthur from milton

sadie and arthur learn not only was micah a rat for the pinkertons, but he had also been an o'driscoll and ratted on them too. milton brags how stupid the vdls had been to let micah in, with micah telling colm their every movement, only to tell the pinkertons both gangs' secrets. which means micah had been responsible for john's death as much as bronte was, and micah had also lead to hosea's death

mary-beth and kieran leave with jack, under sadie's begruding protection while arthur tries to save dutch from blindly following micah's command as micah tries to replace hosea as the one dutch turns to when he doesn't have plan.

this leads to arthur's last stand, with dutch shooting micah as retaliation for john and hosea's death, and sitting beside arthur as he took his last breath. dutch would later be killed by pinkertons, still sitting beside his last son's corpse

mary-beth becomes an author, with jack always mentioned in the dedication as the proof reader. she buys beecher's hope with her book's first cheque because living in saint denis while trying to conceal they were part of the vdls is much more difficult

jack grows up spoiled with his love of reading nurtured and kieran a patient man teaching him about horses in a gentle way that inspires passion instead of the idea of performing masculinity. jack doesn't see his role models belittle his dreams of writing or choose revenge over staying with family. with him. they get a dog and name it merlin because the legend of king arthur is their favorite story to read together. jack reads it to kieran, who does learn to read for himself but will prefer jack reading to him

[yanderespamton78]

WHY ADI IS A GOOD CHARACTER AND NOT JUST AN EVIL SCIENTIST CHILD MURDERER

AAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD YOU DONT UNDERTAND HOW WORKED UP I GET OVER THIS DEBATE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ARARRARARRARRA also btw i watched sweet tooth ages ago so i might get some details wrong

(please dont take anything said here personally i am tired and angry and i get so sososo worked up over this debate since Adi is very similar to a character ive been obsessed with for a year)

so after being in a sweet tooth fandom for a bit i found that much to my surprise (and distain) adi is actually a thoroughly hated character, which was surprising after coming from a fandom where the "evil child murderer" character is one of if not the most popular. And i feel that a lot of the people who hate adi do just see him as "evil child murderer" BUT HES MORE THAN THAT!!!! I PROMISE!!!!! get out of that echo chamber and open your mind to a new opinion (please i spent like 40 mins typing this out)

so firstly, adi was actually just a really nice normal guy before the crumble. he was a sweet man, he was a doctor, he was dad material. not a psychopath. he clearly isnt insane or murderous by nature. We can see his love for Rani in the first episode when he starts freaking out and barging past people just to try to keep her alive even when he knew the odds werent in his favour. he clearly loves his wife more than the world itself and would burn cities in her name. This is a man who Loves His Wife. After the crumble we can see that Adi and Rani are living a semi normal life. we see that all Adi wants is some normalcy despite the horrible situation he's been put into. And all he really needs for that is his wife. Evidently the rest of his family is already dead even if its not mentioned so this man is already under a lot of stress, also knowing that if anyone finds out that Rani has the sick he's screwed. but you know what? hes coping. hes living. maybe he's sometimes forced to be just a lil bit sadistic but its fine its fine its okay because Rani is okay. When he first sees Gladys's research he is horrified and refuses to do the things asked. he loves his wife but even he stops at the idea of killing children (like a normal person). When whatserface (forgot her name) is killed by the horse he is horrified but you can even see a bit of Rani's sadistic nature with how quickly she is to be like "right welp hide the body it was not our fault :)" while Adi is moritified but still helps her because shes his wife and she loves him.

In fact, even when abbot kidnaps him he doesnt want to kill the children. Why would he??? He kills them because if he doesnt Rani will die and all he wants is Rani to be okay. Put yourself in his shoes. your whole life was flipped upside down in the crumble and then your second chance at a mostly normal life was also torn away from you. Now the person dearest to you in the whole world (and also the only person you still have) is about to die at the hand of Doctor Robotnik, who is also trying to force you to kill children otherwise he'll kill you too. Adi is visibly shook after having to kill roy. He didn't want to. He even says in his little voice vlog thing that he has done something terrible (iirc). When Gus comes along he is desperate to have a reason to spare him and when Gus talks he is overjoyed that he doesnt have to kill another child. Sure he's kind of forceful and aggressive but my man is under so much stress and has been for the past 10 years let him be pissy. AND his wife is okay (for now)!! woohoo!!! When he finds the cure he is overjoyed. Sure he ignores his wifes wishes but at this point he is numb to the killing. IT IS EXPLICITLY STATED MULTIPLE TIMES DURING THE SHOW THAT HE DOESNT WANT TO BE A DOCTOR BECAUSE HE STARTS TO BECOME NUMB TO THE DEATH. he KNOWS that this whole doctor thing will start driving him a bit cooky and tries to avoid it but he's forced into it. and that is why he doesnt understand the true reason behind Rani's crying and begging. He doesnt fully realise how she feels at this point due to what he's been forced to do and thinks its too late to go back

He goes back into his laboratory and everything's gone. burned away. AND his wife left him. here is when i feel you can really see where he snapped. Everything he has is gone now. the only thing he could ever need, and the person who he did all those terrible terrible things for, is gone. It cant get worse now. He starts spiralling and going down a desperate path to redeem himself. At this point he is completely insane and broken. He really thinks with all his heart that the only way he can fix what he's done ad get forgiveness from his wife is by killing gus. he thinks its the right thing to do. He's delusional. he seems like a hollow shell of himself by the last season but you can still see little sparks of his old self occasionally. he betrays Gus and team because he thinks its the only way he can redeem himself. the only way he can get Rani to forgive him. But at the last second RIGHT before stabbing Gus he realises its not right and he realises that he's become a terrible person that his wife would be ashamed of. HE REDEEMS HIMSELF. HE SAVES GUS. AND YOU LOT STILL SEE HIM AS THE EVIL CHILD MURDERER. DIEEEEEE

anyways TLDR i love Adi a lot and he did the bad things that he did because he was sad and desperate and loves his wife a lot and anyone who thinks otherwise can go suck toes

[strangerthingsstuff4]

A Story of Another Us- Chapter Eight

Dahlia’s POV

Dahlia padded her way through the living room into the kitchen to find everyone but Alicent and Aemond sat around the table, enjoying their breakfast. The weather was no better today than it was yesterday, the rain still hailing its assault on the earth.

‘Good morning! You want eggs?!’ Haelena chirped up at her friend.

‘No thank you! Coffee is good!’ Dahlia smiled, sliding herself behind the chair Jace was sat in.

She grabbed herself a cup from the cupboard in front of her and poured herself a hot cup of coffee.

‘Aegon remove your eyes from my best friends behind or I will drown you in that cereal!’ Haelena grumbled behind her.

‘What?! It’s a compliment, she has a very nice behind! Aemond back me up here!’

Dahlia hadn’t noticed him enter the room, now that she had however the air had shifted. It felt heavier somehow, she felt like she couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of letting her excitement be known, Dahlia watched intently as she scooped up two teaspoons of sugar and stir them into her drink.

‘What?’ Aemond’s deep voice rumbled through the room, shaking Dahlias heart in her chest.

‘Dahlia’s got a booty right?!’ Aegon questioned confident that his brother was going to support him.

‘Aegon shut up!’ Dahlia chuckled as she turned and leant over the table to grab the jug of milk.

Her hand had closed around the glass handle when his skin brushed against her sending shivers throughout her entire body. Dahlia’s eyes shot up to look at him.

‘Sorry! Here’ she smiled offering Aemond the pitcher.

‘It’s fine, not hungry anyway’ he muttered, sliding the bowl of cereal he was holding onto the table before grabbing his coat and disappearing out of the kitchen doors.

She stood straight and watching his form retreat out of view towards the stables, her heart now a brick in her chest. Had she done something to annoy him? Was he regretting their moments yesterday?

‘What’s his problem?’ Luke grimaced through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

‘Did something happen with you guys?’ Baela all but yelled!?

‘What? No!’ Dahlia defended!

Technically she wasn’t lying! Nothing had happened, something had almost happened, a few times but nothing had actually happened. Nothing needed to happen if he didn’t want it to, surely he knew that! Dahlia looked back out the glass door to where he had just headed and wrecked her brain thinking. She had walked out and left him stood there when Jace asked for help, was that it? Had she hurt his feelings? As far as she knew they all suffered with rejection issues from their father, had she brought that feeling back for him? Dahlia’s stomach dropped, she felt sick.

‘Well you’ve done something to piss him off again’ Rhaena stated.

Dahlia looked down at her hands and swallowed heavily, she needed to talk to him. Hoping not to be too obvious with how eager to was to get out of the kitchen and down to the stables, Dahlia poured some milk into her mug and proceeded to take a few short swigs before tipping the remaining liquid out and moving to grab her wellies and her coat.

‘Oooh someone’s off to do some grovelling’ Jace joked as she slid open the door and stepped out.

The rain pattered heavily on the hood of Dahlia’s raincoat as she begins towards the stalls, The dark green coat that she knew belonged to Alicent caught her eye as a figure appeared from within the stables, Aemond in tow.

‘Good morning, Dahlia! How’s everything going?’ Alicent smiled timidly, clearly still worrying after Balerion.

‘Good! I was just actually coming to find Aemond, do you have a second?’ she asked, looking up at him nervously.

‘No actually I’m about to help mum sorry’ he muttered bluntly.

‘We can wait a few minutes Aemond!’ Alicent stated trying to be helpful.

‘I just wanna get this done, erm could you finish up with the horses for me? They’ve been fed just need to do some mucking out!’ Aemond asked, not waiting around for an answer.

Alicent gave her a tight lipped smile before following after he son as they headed back towards the house.

‘Yeah… sure’ Dahlia huffed to herself.

Aemond didn’t return to the stables while she was in there and for the rest of the day, she struggled to get a second with him. When she managed to catch him helping Haelena and Baela with the chickens, Aegon came asking for his help with something on the sheep field and he disappeared instantly. Even when Dahlia thought she had him cornered by catching up to him walking up the road back to the ranch from one of the fields off site, she had barely gotten two words out when a Arryk pulled up beside them on his way to check on Meleys. Aemond had jumped in the van with him and left her to walk back by herself.

Dahlia had eventually lost her patience and given up with him, if he was going to act like a child and not even talk to her let alone tell her what she had done wrong then she wasn’t going to chase him around trying to defend herself. At least that’s what she told herself to make herself feel better.

Rhaena was dishing up their dinner of Lasagna when Aemond entered the kitchen, Dahlia watched him shrug his coat off and hang it up, hoping to have some eye contact with him and have some hint of what was going on.

‘How much do you want Aemond?’ Rhaena asked politely.

‘None thanks’ he muttered as he left the room and disappeared further into the house.

Dahlia watched the him walk out the door and took a deep breath, leaning closer to Aegon who sat next to her shovelling food into his mouth.

‘Have you spoken to him today? Is he okay?’ she mumbled to him, hoping the others wouldn’t hear over their conversation.

‘Yeah he seems fine, bit tense but it’s Aemond he walks around with a stick up his ass’ Aegon replied once swallowing his mouthful.

‘Right’ she grumbled, poking her food with her fork.

‘I wouldn’t worry, he’s probably just been thinking of your ass all day and didn’t want you to see his hard on’ Aegon sneered as he stood up, having finished his food already.

Dahlia rolled her eyes and brushed off his sleezy comment, resigning to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to speak to him tonight about whatever his problem was.

Aemond’s POV

Even two showers last night couldn’t get the image of her out of his mind. Granted one of those shower had been after he had once again relieved himself. All he could see was her with her mouth open, eyes rolled back in the throws of pleasuring herself, all he could hear was his name pouring out of her mouth in the most delicious moan. Aemond sighed quietly when he saw her stood in the kitchen, back to him showing off the way her gym pants hugged her figure. Everything Aegon had said to him was a blur, he had to get out of there! He hadn’t meant to be rude to her but he felt his stomach drop when she had looked up at him. She had no idea that he had invaded her privacy in the most polluted way.

Stepping outside Aemond was able to breath again, he needed to clear his head and just get on with him day. He was just finishing stuffing the hay feeders when he heard footsteps paddling through the wet mud. He was trapped there was no way for him to avoid this conversation.

‘Aemond’ Alicents voice stuttered through the wide-open space quietly.

‘Yeah?’ he yelled back, relief washing over his body.

‘I need you to come and help me with the boiler, it’s on the fritz again and then could you maybe… ring Criston and see if he has any news… please?’ She sniffled.

Aemond stopped what he was doing and looked over at his mother, she was stood there looking back at him, eyes lightly glazed over as she fiddled with her fingers.

‘Mum, I doubt he’s gonna be able to tell me anything yet besides-‘

‘Aemond please! I need to know!’ Alicent snapped

There was no point in arguing with her he knew that. He let out a deep huff and stuffed the rest of the straw into the troth, stomping his way out of the barn after his mother. To his dismay Dahlia was bouncing her way down the hill towards them, he had never wanted the world to swallow him up more! His insides twisted with guilt as he blew her off and sauntered back towards the house with his mother in tow, leaving her behind to shovel up the dirty straw.

Aemond just couldn’t look at her the same way anymore. She had been this sweet alluring innocent girl before last night, his sister’s best friend that was easy to talk to and had a snappy attitude that challenged his own. But now, she was this mysterious sexy woman to had dirty urges just like he did and he wanted to fill those urges for her, he wanted to feel her hot body pressed against him, writhing underneath him moaning his name the way she had last night. His pants feel ever so tight he turned down dinner and retreated to his bedroom without so much as a glance at her.

Dahlia had driven herself crazy all night, not even being able to stomach her dinner from thinking about what she had done to piss him off. She didn’t even care if she had, at least that’s what she told herself. She had debated knocking on his door, when she reached the top floor of the house, and giving him a piece of her mind but instead she opted for lying in her bed awake sulking for a few hours, going over in her mind everything that had transpired over the last few days. The only thing she could think of that may have sent him reeling back to his dickhead self, was the fact that she had left him stood there in the barn. She had walked out on him and left him stood on his own when he had made a move on her and it had likely hurt his ego. Should she have just let him kiss her? What if Jace had come further into the stables and saw them? Had she wanted him to kiss him? He was godly attractive and he could have her weak in the knees with a wink but he was her best friend’s brother! It was off limits, unthinkable… dirty!

Needing a break from her brain Dahlia flung the covers off her and padded her way out of the room. In her oversized KLU shirt (Kings landing University) and a paid of snug fitted boxers she made her way down to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. If he wanted to be childish and ignore her then she would just act like he didn’t exist, he didn’t have that much of a hold on her that she would lose every ounce of her northern stubbornness.

Dahlia stood facing the sink with her glass to her lips sipping at the cool water, enjoying it sooth her throat. With her back facing the doorway she didn’t notice his presence enter the kitchen, not until he cleared his throat and made her jump out of her skin. Her heart was pounding when she turned and looked at Aemond stood near the doorway, donning only a pair of loose joggers that hung off his hips deliciously.

‘Gods Aemond! You scared the shit out of me’ she breathed, hand on her chest feeling her heart thump.

‘Sorry… didn’t realise anyone was up’ he mumbled in his monotone voice that, once again, pissed her off.

Aemond was silent as he walked over to the sink, grabbing his own glass and filling it up at the tap before bringing it to his mouth and gulping it. Dahlia stood next to him now facing the door, praying that he would say something to her and break the palpable tension. It was clear that he wasn’t going to and she wasn’t just going to stand there like a fool. Dahlia began towards the kitchen door to return to bed, ready to leave him stood there once again by himself, but that wasn’t very girl boss of her. No she needed to give him a piece of her mind and tell him to grow up.

‘Have I done something to upset you? You’ve been dodging me all day’ she spat out, spinning on her heel, looking at his bare muscular back.

‘I’ve been busy’ he grumbled, once he had removed the cup from his lips.

‘I’m not blind Aemond, every time I’ve tried to talk to you you’ve basically ran away from me! If I’ve overstepped then just tell!’

‘Will do’ he hummed, placing his empty glass into the sink and moving around the table to walk past her out of the kitchen.

‘Uggg are you always this much of an asshole?!’ Dahlia groaned grabbing hold of his forearm to prevent him from continuing out of the room.

Her touch had the hairs on his arms standing on end, a glorious shiver ran through him, from his shoulder to his toes and straight into his cock. He could just walk away and deal with himself upstairs, he could imagine her in any position he wanted to.

‘Look if this is about yesterday in the stables then-‘

Aemond cut Dahlia off with a hand around her throat, pulling her body towards him until they were pressed together. He didn’t hesitate sliding his hand round to the back of her neck and pushing her mouth to meet his. Dahlia’s body was in a state of shock for a moment, it had all happened so fast but he was kissing her, his mouth was on hers and it was glorious. It was instinct that her lips began moving with his as they slid over hers, kissing her, tasting her. Her hand that had planted on his chest to steady herself, slid up to his shoulders as the heat between them radiated. Aemond’s other hand dug into the flesh at her hip, drawing a small whine to fall from Dahlia’s throat.

Aemond began walking her backwards, causing her to grip onto him tighter as she stumbled back towards the kitchen table. The back of her legs didn’t even get to make contact with the edge of the oak table before Aemond had his hands around her waist and lifted her to sit on the table. He nudged her legs apart with his knee to make room to stand between them, not once disconnecting their lips. Now she was pretty much at his height, Dahlia’s fingers tangled themselves in his silver locks that he wore in a loose bun at the base of his neck. Her heart pounded while his big hands grabbed at her hips, pressing her against himself harder. His tongue pushed past her lips and invaded her mouth, she couldn’t help the moan that she let out, he tasted so good. The toothpaste he had used still left a minty tinge to his saliva, her tongue fought against his own as their kissing grew more and more heated by the second.

Dahlia began rocking her hips up against him searching for any form of friction she could find, eliciting a deep grunt out of Aemond’s chest. Some how he managed to pull her even closer to him, pressing his hard throbbing member into her, he was seconds away from freeing himself from his joggers and fucking her right there on the kitchen table and he would have if it wasn’t for irritating drone of Aegon’s voice coming down the stairs.

‘I’m coming to the door now’ Aegon mumbled, apparently on the phone to someone at 3am, as he crept down the stairs.

Setting the pair of them into a state of shock, Dahlia and Aemond tore themselves away from each other at the sound of him getting closer. She ushered him away from her a few steps to allow herself to hop off the table. With a light grip on her wrist, Aemond pulled her with him until she was stood with her back to the wall next to the door of the kitchen, with him stood pressed against her front. With both of them out of sight as Aegon walked to the front door they stood and listened as he welcomed someone into the house, a feminine giggle signalling that it was yet another of his casual hook ups. The warmth that radiated off Aemond’s bare chest that was pressed against her seeped through Dahlia’s shirt and had her skin covered in goosebumps. He had every one of her senses set a light, his breath fanning over her face and filling her nose with his pure virile scent, his heart pounding almost drowning out her own and the taste of him still lingering on her tongue.

Once the sound of Aegon and his guest retreating was almost non-existent, Aemond looked down at Dahlia, his vibrant eyes looking down at her while a sleek thrilling smirk slid it’s way smoothly onto his face.

‘Goodnight’ Aemond muttered lowly, dipping his head closer to hers a little before removing his body from her personal space and moving out of the kitchen.

She had been left stood there, wondering what the hell had just happened. Dahlia’s heart was still thumping in her chest as she tried to comprehend what had just transpired. He had kissed her! They had just made out heavily on the kitchen table and then he had just left her stood there, turned on and confused. Was this his pay back for her leaving him in the barn? Had he really been pissed off at her or just confused with his feelings and urges.

It took Dahlia a moment to get herself together enough to make her own way back up the stairs and into her own bedroom. She climbed back into bed and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling replaying the kiss over and over in her head. The way his hand had felt on her throat, how her feet had stumbled backwards to the table and how he had set her whole body alight when he pushed his lips on hers. She wanted to be embarrassed about the way she had crumbled under his touch but she was too buzzed with the memory of how he had kissed her.

She did not expect sleep to come easy but it was not the thought of Aemond kissing her that kept her awake. It was the provocative noises seeping through the wall from Aegon’s room as he fucked the life out of the poor girl he had snuck in, filthy moans and the slapping of skin on skin. She didn’t wasn’t to listen but what else was she supposed to do? With her eyes closed, Dahlia tried to block it out but her mind betrayed her and before she knew it her mind was flooded with images and it was her making those lewd sounds as Aemond was stood, fucking her from behind and her ass slapping back against his hips with every thrust.

Dahlia pulled her pillow out from under her head and dropped it onto her face, refusing to allow herself to create such dirty thoughts from the disgusting noises coming from Aegon’s room. Already knowing that her headphones were dead there was nothing for her to do but just lie there and listen.

He had kissed her!

[kurtmustdie]

hate the ultimate guide. heres a few reasons why.

reused art: I understand how hard it is to make art, especially at that calliber of detail. I'm an artist, I get it. but the charm of the original ultimate guide was that we had these hand painted, unique pieces of art of these characters, it showed a little personality too.

How stale and lifeless the art is: This is a complaint that I've had with the current western artist for years, the art is just... boring. the colors are pretty, yeah, like wow hyperrealistic cats. cool. but what else? can we see their personalities? what's the book gonna be like? the old covers had that charm, but not these ones. at all. (also is that even... i could not tell that was runningnose and littlecloud. i mean. runningnose has water in his snout, thats not what cat snot looks like but go off. he just looks a little soggy ig, not in a perpetual state of sick.)

Lack of Personality: this is a different complaint I promise. I dont like how the art seems to take away the personality of every character so theyre staring stoicly at the camera. some of these characters arent all that stoic. I never liked the firestar art in the last hope because I deadass thought it was mapleshade until someone told me it was firestar. firestar isnt this scary, stalky cat in the shadows. not to normal people at least. if i can mistake your main character as one of the villains in your cover art that isnt fucking good. I don't want to see these cats staring bug eyed at the camera, I want to be able to tell what they're like JUST from a glance at the art. Who is that- harestar?? why doesnt he look nervous?? he looks almost noble here, which is the opposite of who he's supposed to be, he's a wuss and a loser and i love him for it. like girl that is NOT mudclaw thats some random cat i saw at the shelter once, WHERES HIS ANGER? WHERES HIS FUCKING RAGE??? RISE RISE RISE RISE RISE RI

the Characters are hard to recognize, even with the title cards: Who are these cats. who. who the fuck are they. I can recognize a few cats, sure, but thats if I can pick out a defining trait. Squirrelflights tail, Scourges Collar, Ravenpaw's white chest, those are things that are explicitly told to us that these characters have, but everyone else??? WHO??? Like that was supposed to be leafstar?? HUH?? Wait that's supposed to be Oakheart? I cant even tell if hes red, its so YELLOW OUT I CANT FUCKING TEL WHO HE IS. Sagewhisker is described with yellow eyes, yet she has blue ones in the ultimate guide (i dont usually get pissy about eye color but not only are these cats supposed to be distinct from each other but i really like sagewhisker and i would die for her, yes i will gatekeep her from the artist fucking fight me), Bluestar is barely recognizable, i didnt know who half of these cats were before i read their nameplate. thats not a good thing.

Red mapleshade. Why she red. WHY SHE RED.

Leafpool. I didn't even know that was you at first but man they did you dirty.

sol. dude that is not sol no matter how much you stretch it- why is he a tabby?? hes supposed to be a tortie, why does he look like lionblaze?? and even then he doesnt look that lionlike, even though hollyleaf literally thought he was when she first saw him like what?? HUH???

mothwing. why she anger. also why she not fluffy

squirrelflight. i always hated her SE art but seeing the whole thing makes me angrier. like she isnt not accurate to canon or anything i just... hate it. i hate it withe very fibre of my being. ALSO WHERE IS HER PERSONALITY I WANT TO SEE HER BEING ENERGETIC NOT STARING 😐 AT THE CAMERA FUCKING HELL-

yeah, so im not gonna buy this book. i dont even want to know how they wrorte any of the female characters to make them somehow evil or how they somehow make a completely irridemable male character a sweet uwu baby. and everyone has talked about the ableism to death so im not going to beat this clearly still living horse, im just gonna let you find it yourself.

[bayofwolves]

Rereading Fire and Ice

We're back again after a short break! Sorry this one took so long to get out, adult life caught up to me. As you might know, these posts are to discuss interesting tidbits and things I hadn't noticed before. Let's get right to it!

Once again, please mind the tags.

In A Revised History of Erdas, Rollan is native and has his long hair in two braids, so this cover messes with me. I really fuck with the colour scheme, though.

Meilin thinks Maya might be crazy. She also jokes about burning Pia's house down in a later chapter, which is a little unsettling! These are definitely just throwaway lines that aren't meant to be thought about again, but I find myself wishing the authors had purposefully written Maya to be a little bit off. It would add something to her character, at least.

Rollan is confirmed to be a person of colour! Yay! "His brown eyes were warm, his brown skin speckled with dirt from the road, his broad face comfortingly familiar." I wasn't a fan of the ambiguous "tan" description he got before.

It seems Abeke may have been physically abused in her home as well as emotionally. She says that if she had ever talked back to her father like Rollan did to Pia, she would be switch-whipped. Pojalo, mark my words, you will answer for everything you've done to hurt this girl.

Abeke being a Rain Dancer becomes relevant! Everybody cheer! Being near water helps her think clearly and make sense of the situation in Samis. Would have been nice to show her actually making it rain at any point like Rain Dancers are supposed to do, but I'll take this, I guess…

Aidana may have had Rollan when she was a teenager. This doesn't have any real merit, but I think it's very possible. And no matter her age at the time, given her circumstances -- living on the streets, mentally unwell and experiencing frequent blackouts -- I doubt her pregnancy was of her own will. Especially considering how she never mentions anything about Rollan's father, and he never asks.

Rollan doesn't seem to remember Wikerus. (Perhaps he only had traumatic memories of him, and his brain covered these up along with the memories of Aidana's sickness.) He probably would have mentioned to the Greencloaks that his mother was Marked if he'd known.

Zerif must have found and cured Aidana while he was in Concorba seeking Rollan and Essix. I doubt he would have visited that city on two separate occasions. He likely came across her after losing Rollan to Olvan. Another element of tragedy to their story: Aidana was possibly just hours or minutes too late to safely reunite with her son.

Aidana talks about the Devourer helping people, seeking out those afflicted by the bonding sickness and curing them with the Bile. It's unclear if she means Gar or Shane by this, but I'm inclined to believe the latter. In that case, it would have been interesting to see some of this -- Shane finding people the Greencloaks passed over and taking their pain away. He would have genuinely thought he was doing something right, even if he was offering them up to Gerathon in the process.

Pia may have been alive in Feliandor's time, as Rollan notices she doesn't seem surprised to learn of the new war. This is entirely possible, as Suka presumably froze herself and stopped visiting Samis soon after the Fall of the Four in the First Devourer War.

The animal that attacks the group's boat on their way to Arctica isn't fully revealed. I hope it was a creature that doesn't exist on Earth. I imagine a hippocampus or something like it, since the noise made when Tarik strikes it is described as sounding like a wet horse's flank.

Tarik's bond with Lumeo gives him the power to control water. Wish we'd seen more of this.

Abeke has never seen hail before their nights in Arctica.

Conor singing has always been one of the most memorable parts of this book for me. I wish there'd been other instances of him singing folk songs for the group.

So as we've seen with Suka, Great Beasts can devolve into a beast-like state -- presumably if they are comatose for a long period of time. Suka had probably been asleep for hundreds of years, so it makes sense that her mind would be delayed.

Jhi calming Suka reminds me of what Meilin's bond token was intended to do. It would have been a neat callback to what happened here if it had stopped Song's murderous rage.

Halawir's identity as the Betrayer has actually been hinted at in a few books prior to the reveal, this one and Tales of the Great Beasts. Here, it's clear that him asking for Suka's talisman meant he was up to something.

Abeke and Maya's little conversation where they hold hands for comfort and call each other magical is the gayest thing these books have given us since... Suka and Jhi, a few chapters ago. It's a really sweet but also sad moment, Maya revealing that she is traumatized and Abeke not knowing how to help. Definitely one of my favourite parts.

The dream Conor has about the group all wearing strange shoes could have actually had some meaning behind it. The laces on Meilin's dumpling shoes that stretch behind them for miles could symbolize her Bile bond leading the Conquerors to them. Abeke falling through the ice with her fire shoes, but Conor being unable to save her, could foreshadow her being captured by the Conquerors in the next book. As you may recall, Conor was not present and could not do anything when this happened.

I don't believe Shane had any intention of cutting Uraza off Abeke's skin. It's this line for me: "Shane is too much of a diplomat, so Zerif made sure we [Ana and Tahlia] came along and enforced the plan. He was especially hurt by Abeke's betrayal." I'm assuming Shane knew of the plan, and may have been okay with threatening Abeke to get what he wanted (similar to how he used Achi to win his fight against Lishay in The Book of Shane: Vendetta), but wasn't going to actually harm her. He knew he could get the talisman another way. Zerif, on the other hand, wanted Abeke to suffer and so sent two of his minions along. Less plausible is the chance Shane wasn't even in on it to begin with, and Zerif (and his minions) deliberately conspired behind his back. (I'm all for the Conquerors defying Shane's authority, given that ARHoE has Drina stage a coup, so I find this possibility particularly intriguing.)

Kind of wish Abeke had ridden on Great Briggan with Conor in the final battle. Would have made for an iconic scene.

Poor Abeke is concussed during the final battle. I never spotted this growing up because I've never had a concussion and didn't know the signs. I thought she was just tripping, to be honest.

Rollan begins to slip into suicidal ideation after his mom tries to kill him. This book has not been kind to our protagonists, not one bit.

On this quest, the team has done two terrible things: destroyed the Ice Palace, a place built by generations of Ardu, and condemned the entire village of Samis to death. And all for a talisman that slips out of their hands, no less.

My final thoughts on Fire and Ice are mixed. There were some inconsistencies and relapses in character development, and while I can chalk it up to being a product of the many different authors working on this series, it still got on my nerves a little. Let's be real, Conor's animosity towards Shane came out of nowhere and is wildly out of character for him. Rollan shouldn't have been grating on Conor for giving away the Iron Boar when they resolved that conflict back in Blood Ties. It's a little messy. But I liked the rest. They introduced some elements in this one that really grabbed me. I absolutely love Aidana and her relationship with Rollan; she's a good example of how the war is not so black and white. I love how our protagonists firmly believe anything they do is justified because it's for the greater good, choosing to ignore the destruction they leave behind. I love the depth Rollan got, though it unfortunately came at the expense of other characters'. I wish they hadn't waited to develop Maya until we were nearing the end; I really enjoyed her when they gave her a bigger role. The focus this author gave Conor and Abeke has always been a highlight of the series for me; their relationship is so sweet and caring, though I see it as more platonic than anything. And of course, I loved the darker elements that this book had. Not only that, but it left me in emotional pain, which is exactly what I need to consider something a good read.

All in all, another solid addition to the series. This journey hurt our protagonists so much, and it hurt me.

This is part of an ongoing series.

Wild Born | Hunted | Blood Ties | Fire and Ice | Against the Tide | Rise and Fall | The Evertree

Immortal Guardians | Broken Ground | The Return | The Burning Tide

Heart of the Land | The Wildcat's Claw | Stormspeaker | The Dragon's Eye

Tales of the Great Beasts | The Book of Shane | Tales of the Fallen Beasts

[outlawruben]

The Sweet Sound of Music

This is a Vandermatthews fic I wrote based on a headcannon I had on how Dutch got his Phonograph he keeps in his tent 🫶

(This also includes a first Vandermatthews kiss, and some drunken dancing)

No I totally didn’t start getting tired and forget how to English towards the end.. wdym?? Anyways here it is 🙏💗

The evening became really drab as the sun began to set, another failed mission leading to a shootout. Thankfully they hadn’t experienced any casualties so it was more of a bruised ego than anything on the pair of hucksters. They bought a single bottle of whiskey with their combined pocket change to share between them.

“Shoulda robbed the bastard that sold us this shit, lord knows he overcharged us.” Dutch grumbled to Hosea. “ ‘s what we get I suppose, he knows our occupation..”

“hm.” Dutch replied unsatisfied with Hosea’s reasoning.

Hosea idly swirled the shared bottle. The two of them didn’t have a glass so they had to share it directly. They were as broke as a joke, and the only thing they had to feed themselves was a couple cans of beans and old venison wrapped up nicely in Hosea’s saddle bag, from when he went hunting a few days back.

“I’m so sick of beans, and lord knows I’ve had too much venison.” Dutch started, braking the silence. “We just need one good take- something to fill our pockets with things that sparkle, rather than lint.”

“I agree, being poor is awfully monotonous.” Hosea chuckled with the usual twinkle in his eye after saying something witty.

“Why don’t I start up that phonograph I found the other day?” Dutch suggested. “You know? To see if it works, of course.” He reasoned. “Sure..” Hosea smirked. Dutch inserted the wax Edison cylinder they found separately in an old cottage a week back.

“Hey, you know what this is?” Dutch asked Hosea from across the small cabin. “Looks like a block of dust to me.” Hosea replied, causing Dutch to roll his eyes. “I remember learning about these, few months ago, read about it in a newspaper, never did I think I’d find a real one!” Dutch exclaimed. The older man stepped closer. “Well enlighten me, Mr. Van Der Linde, what is it?”

“It’s a wax cylinder!” Dutch exclaimed, the light catching the excitement in his eyes. “Very impressive.” Hosea snarked. “It plays music!” Dutch smiled. “So what do I do? ask the lady here to sing for us?” Hosea snickered to himself. Dutch’s smile quickly dropped. “Well if you’re going to be such an ass about it, Mr. Matthews..” Dutch grumbled. “Oh come on Dutch, you know I’m joking.” Hosea reassured him. “How does it work?” Hosea asked smiling.

A couple days later, as if it were fate, they stumbled upon a small, absent camp. The campers were clearly away fishing at the stream a few miles down the hill. And there it was. A phonograph, with Dutch’s name written all over it. And boy was it a hassle to quickly hoist up and strap to their horses, but it wasn’t like it was their first time stealing something of this size.

“Who’d leave something like this unattended?” Dutch asked shouting over the wind and hoofbeats. “Clearly someone who doesn’t know you exist, Dutch.” Hosea replied promptly.

Dutch wound the handle and closely listened for any sign of sound from within the horn. Hosea watched in curiosity, brain half buzzed from the whiskey he was nursing. “Aha!” Dutch exclaimed pleased. “It does work.” He smiled at Hosea. “Good, we can sell that thing for two bottles then.” Hosea joked. “Ain’t happening, I’m going to have this phonograph for as long as I live.” Dutch smiled.

“Too drunk to appreciate good music then?” Dutch asked. “No, I’m right as rain.” Hosea said, feigning total sobriety. “Good, cause I’ve got no dance partner.” Dutch hinted, swaying over to Hosea. “That is if you can dance.” Hosea snarked. “Let me prove it to you then.” Dutch charmed. Normally Dutch’s charisma wouldn’t work on a fully sober Hosea, but Dutch seemed to have the upper hand on this one.

Dutch took Hosea’s right hand in his left, and held the small of his back. While Hosea followed suit holding him around to his upper back. “I didn’t know you were so lady like Hosea, why, I would’ve figured you’d gone to an all girl’s finishing school.” Dutch joked. Hosea shook his head. “Sleep with one eye open Mr. Van Der Linde, I’ll teach you proper knife etiquette.”

“Oh ho!” Dutch barked a laugh. “You don’t mean that.” “We’ll see.” Hosea replied. The music was soft, with a slow beginning, and they swayed rhythmically, save for their weakened knees from the slight drunkenness they shared. “I knew you weren’t quite too old for dancing.” Dutch spoke softly to the man in his arms. “I’m not sure what you mean, I’m in my prime.” Hosea mumbled, and Dutch chucked. “No doubt.” Dutch said smiling.

Hosea glanced up at Dutch’s eyes and Dutch returned the gesture. His eyes were round and youthful, and always seemed to catch every twinkle of light surrounding the coffee brown centers. Hosea thought his were getting duller with age, however, Dutch seemed to think otherwise. Dutch could always get lost in Hosea’s eyes, they were deep reddened russet, and seemed to have a ring of honey gold in the center, and they were Dutch’s most prized possessions.

They subconsciously maneuvered closer to each other as they continued to sway. The air between them was warm and smelled strongly of a shared whiskey bottle, and Dutch’s cigar from earlier. Hosea dragged his hand up Dutch’s shoulder and cupped the nape of his neck, his raven black curls sat between Hosea’s fingers. Returning the gesture, Dutch removed his hand from Hosea’s and cupped his cheek, to which Hosea gently planted his other hand on Dutch’s waist.

Hosea gently closed the gap between them, and met his lips to Dutch’s. Both of their eyes flicked closed. Their lips slipped apart and they closed the gap again and again, Dutch hummed in pleasure and readjusted himself to hold both sides of Hosea’s face, as they continued the motion. Hosea knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t help himself, he already accepted the he “wasn’t going to be let in the pearly gates, what’s another sin to add to the list?” He drunkenly reasoned. Besides it was just them, no one else had to know.

The song had ended and they broke apart blushing two innocent school girls. They starred at each other for a beat when Hosea placed his hand on Dutch’s shoulder, the vulnerability of it all sobered him up a notch. Hosea nervously darted his eyes at the ground around them. “I better get some sleep if we are to have any luck on finding a score.” Hosea started quietly. “Sure.” Dutch managed as they broke their embrace and Hosea walked to his tent. “Good night ‘Sea.” Dutch spoke up sheepishly. “Night, Dutch.” Hosea smiled back at him.

[sirowsky]

Moving On

Part of the Driving Mr. Tovar Universe

Description: Pero's got something on his mind, so you try to help him figure it out, and in doing so, realize that it might help you both to move on.

Author's Note: This was originally part of one of my follower celebrations. It was sent to me as an anonymous ask along with the prompt "Talking helps" from my prompt list, and this is what I came up with. I love this, because it gives so much closure to the overall story, so thank you so much Anon <3

Rating: Everyone Warnings: Mention of character death from the original story, slight angst but also comfort. Word Count: 1082 (122 words added) Masterlist of the original story

   You came home late one afternoon, to find Pero by the kitchen table, so deep in thought that he never even heard you come in. Evident from how he flinched when you touched his shoulder.    It was extremely unusual for him to not notice you, no matter how preoccupied he was, so whatever was on his mind had to be serious.

   Sitting down beside him, you took his hand on the table and gently massaged his fingers while waiting for him to tell you about whatever was on his mind.    But he remained silent, staring at your hands as they worked, but clearly not really seeing anything of the room around him.    You knew that he’d tell you about it whenever he was ready, but it worried you to see how it seemed to be gnawing at him, so you decided to give him a gentle reminder.

   “Talking helps,” you said quietly without looking at him, letting him know you weren’t trying to pressure him into a conversation, but that you didn’t like seeing him like this.

   “Sorry…” he mumbled, but before you could tell him that it was alright, he continued. “I’m thinking about this dream that I’ve been having.”

   That surprised you, and you looked up to meet his eyes, finding him looking mostly perplexed.

   “Good or bad?” you asked softly, hoping to spur him into further explanation.

   “Neither… just persistent. I’ve been having this same dream every night for a week now, and I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said with a little shrug, as if he was unsure of why it would matter so much.

   “What’s it about?” you wondered, thinking you might be able to help him work it out.

   He took a moment to think, and you worried that he might not want to tell you yet.    But then he sucked in a breath.

   “Horses. I see… hundreds, or maybe even thousands of them, running across the plains in the sunlight,” he almost whispered, as though just the idea of bringing horses back to the estate was enough to break his heart all over again.

   And no wonder.    King had died just a few months earlier, and you’d both agreed that you were done with horses now. That even the thought of starting over with new individuals was just too heavy to even consider.    And yet, his brain was apparently tightly focused on it, for one reason or another.

   “Maybe it’s just how you’re trying to process the loss,” you suggested, but he didn’t agree with you.

   “No, I don’t think so. Because in the dream, seeing them makes me happy,” he said, looking confused but sounding convinced. “I’m looking for them, and when they run into view I feel such joy.    And I think I might know why.”

   You felt your brows knit together as you watched him lean forwards and take both of your hands in his. Because ever since he’d lost the black, even mentioning horses had brought tears to his eyes.    But not in this moment. Right now, he was emotional for entirely different reasons, and in a way that you weren’t quite familiar with seeing in him.

   “What if we turned all of that empty land into a horse sanctuary?” he proposed, and you felt your jaw drop slightly, but he kept going. “I mean like, turn them loose and let them live pretty much wild. Only step in if one of them got sick or needed help with their hooves or teeth or something.”

   He could see the questions in your eyes. Your doubts about whether something like this would be too much for him, once it was real.    After all, it was one thing to think about it, dream about it. Those were abstracts, whereas actually doing it was something very real and inescapable.

   “I know that I could never bond with a horse like before, but it would be nice to be around them again,” he added, no doubt trying to help you understand why this was apparently becoming very important to him.

   “Okay… But do you really think you could handle that?” you asked after a beat, because somehow, you felt like he might not have thought this through. “You do realize that we’d have to put them down if they got ill, or badly injured.”

   “That’s what I’ve been sitting here thinking about,” he confessed then, and suddenly the depth of his concentration made sense. “The thing is… without the kids or the boys, I don’t really have anything to do. And I just feel like this is something that I could do.”

   You understood what he was trying to say. He was a man of very few skills and much too impatient to start learning something new.    But this was something that he already knew, and aside from giving him a task to perform each day, it would make use of all the gorgeous land that Sam had left to him, which no one moved through or enjoyed anymore.

   “I have to admit, I’d love to hear the sounds of them again,” you replied with a small smile, remembering the heavy thumps of hooves, the proud snorts and all the background noise that you’d gotten used to having around the estate in all the time that you’d spent there with the boys.

   Hearing that made Pero smile, which he rarely did around the subject of horses anymore, and that alone was enough to convince you that it was a conversation worth digging deeper into.    It would take a couple more months of discussions and planning, where you repeatedly tried to make sure you were both ready for it, but eventually, the Rose Equine Sanctuary was founded, and within just six months, thirty horses had already made their home there.

   Over time, it grew to become hundreds, and Pero tended to them without fault, keeping his distance but never going a day without checking on them, no matter how many hours he had to trudge around looking for them.    And in caring for the herd, he rediscovered his adoration of horses as a species, rather than just the specific individuals that he’d come to love so closely in his life.

   He remembered that he didn’t need to know their characters to be able to appreciate their grace or their power.    That all it took to be infected by their calm and harmony, was just looking at them going about their day.    Completely free.

THE END

>>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<<

Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging. I would dearly appreciate it <3

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @lovefreylove @elegantduckturtle @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @ellie-darling @startrekkingaroundasgard @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @thisshipwillsail316 @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @spideysimpossiblegirl @nolanell @toomanystoriessolittletime @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @bilibiche @harriedandharassed @shadesofnerdlygrace @hotchlover @little-mrs-morales @gallowsjoker @cosmicbreathe @criminalmind1927 @myfavpedrothings @spishsstuff @suttonspuds @sjdraws-00 @ezras-channel-rat @justnat15 @anditsmywholeheart @i-love-movies @insomniamamma @lowlights @thelion-sroar @herefordistractions @ellenmunn

[lasatfat]

happy Friday! from Raleigh's lost words: "Scathefire: great destructive fire; conflagration" for a character or characters of your choice!

Raleigh's lost words | @dadrunkwriting | @highwayphantoms

Kind of cheating, since this takes place just after the scathefire occurs, haha! Also forgot this was a drabble prompt, so you get an extra 834 words.

This fic is also about Torunn and Basvaarad before they were Torunn and Basvaarad, if that makes sense? So they're referred to with their previous names (and pronouns, in Torunn's case). TW/CW for suicide, mutilation and trauma. Nothing super graphic or detailed, but it's there.

Scathefire

So it turns out, when an arvaarad dies, the saarebas he has leashed will often kill themselves rather than risk living unguarded.

Fritjof Adaar (Joff to his friends) didn’t know that, until about thirty seconds ago, but he sure as fuck does now. The drake that had bitten the arvaarad’s head off knows it too. Or, it would, if it wasn’t a charred husk spread across the beach. He didn’t know dragons could be killed with fire, either, but perhaps it’s just rare to come across enough of it to do the job. Eight saarebas immolating themselves is apparently adequate.

No, seven saarebas. There’s one left. Instead of a spell of fire, this one had cast a barrier.

Joff had heard what the Qunari do to their mages before, but this is the first time he’s seen it up close. Another new thing he’s learned today. Their face is covered by a mask shaped like a horse’s head; their wrists are shackled and linked by short lengths of chain to a thick belt around their waist; their ankles are chained even closer together, keeping them from even walking properly. The leash comes off a collar around their neck. Joff feels sick with anger.

The lone saarebas is standing by the blackened tip of the drake’s tail. They’re enormous – they must be almost nine feet tall – but the way they’re trembling, you’d think they were a frightened puppy. Big, magic and scared. That’s a reassuring combination.

Still, Joff steps closer, letting his feet crunch on the coarse sand. The last thing he wants to do is catch the stranger by surprise.

The saarebas turns. Joff lays his bow down on the ground, and raises his hands.

“Hey. Hey, you’re alright,” he says, hoping he sounds more soothing than terrified. “My name’s Fritjof. Can you understand me?”

He can’t see Saarebas’ face behind the mask, but he feels their eyes on him. Saarebas nods.

“Joff!” His brother, Farid, is behind him, calling in a half-whisper. Clearly, he didn’t have quite the same caution. “What are you doing? Get back here!”

Joff chances a look over his shoulder. Farid has his own barrier cast over himself and Nanna. She has her greataxe drawn, ready to come to her brother’s aid. It’s touching, sure, but the possibility of further violence is only going to make things worse.

“Farid, Nanna, it’s fine. I’m just having a chat with my new friend, here,” says Joff, firmly. He holds out a hand to them. Stay back. “They’re not going to hurt me.” He turns back to Saarebas. “Are you?”

They stare at him, and Joff feels a horrible little thrill of fear that they might be about to do just that. But they shake their head.

“Good.” He smiles again, showing teeth this time. Saarebas only trembles. “Is it alright if I come a bit closer?”

Another moment of hesitation, but Saarebas nods again. Bit by bit, asking as he goes, Joff moves to stand in front of them, within an arm’s length. They’re still shivering, but not quite as badly. A pair of deep brown eyes peer at him through the slits in the mask, wide and afraid. They can’t see his hands anymore.

“I can help you take that off, if you want,” he offers. “The mask, I mean.”

Saarebas whimpers, almost too quietly to hear, but they nod.

So, Joff lifts the mask. Carefully, slowly, ready to drop it again if Saarebas changes their mind. His gaze is immediately drawn to their lips, and the black thread pulling teardrop wounds into the flesh. Stitched shut, goodness knows how long ago. He tears his eyes away, to meet their gaze. Their own eyes squint against the most sun they’ve had on their face in years.

“There you are,” says Joff, with a grin.

They start to cry, or maybe their eyes are just watering from the sun. Either way, Joff decides not to draw attention to it. He’s more worried about the stitches and the bindings, not to mention the fact that drakes are usually not too far from dragons. “I tell you what,” he begins. “How about you come with us, and we’ll see about getting you freed up a bit, eh? No more chains.”

Saarebas makes a small, terrified noise, steps back away from him. Joff lifts his hands again, stepping back himself, for all the good it will do. If they decide to kick off now, he’ll be very literal toast. But Saarebas has already had their chance to bow out, and they didn’t take it. They want to live, just as much as he does. Perhaps even more.

“You want to keep the chains?” he asks.

Saarebas nods.

“Alright, leave them, for now,” he says, reluctantly. Maybe that’s too big a step. “What about the stitches? Then you can tell us what you want.”

Saarebas thinks on this for a moment. They lift a hand to touch their mouth, fingers brushing across the thread. Their fingernails have been pulled out, and recently. Finally, Saarebas bends, picks up the leash, and holds it out to Joff.

“You want me to lead you?”

Saarebas nods.

Joff doesn’t want it. He can’t be another in a long line of captors, who dragged Saarebas along behind them like they’re no one. Like they’re a war dog they’re scared will bite. If they need leading, it won’t be on a chain.

“Will you let me do it my way?” he asks.

Saarebas furrows their brow, but they nod. Joff reaches out, and takes the hand wrapped around the leash instead.

[katabaesis]

tag game

tagged by @basuralindo — it seems that I post a section of WIP and tag people to also do the same? I'm not sure if anyone else is writing fic on my TL right now hahaha but! If you see this consider yourself tagged :)

Thanks for tagging me! Er, dunno why this got weirdly long for an excerpt... anyway... a small excerpt from 'heir apparent' the next bit of 'long live the king' series...

There isn't a body to bury.

STYX takes Leona Kingscholar's body away. Idia Shroud knows that it doesn't matter. There isn't a body because no one will remember Leona was even ever at Night Raven College. There's so much work for STYX to do. Idia's father even comes to school — for work, he says, but the first thing he does is check on Idia and Ortho — and then goes to Sunset Savanna. It turns out easiest to say that Leona Kingscholar had died in childhood, Overblotted after he found his sick mother hidden away as the family secret. It's an odd lie, Idia thinks when he reads the report but it turns out that Leona's birth had been difficult on the queen and some part of her had never recovered. When Leona had died apparently Lethe's memory wiping hadn't worked on her so spinning the lie around her insistence her son had gone to Night Raven College was necessary. It leaves a bad taste in Idia's mouth. He thinks about Ortho and really the entire Shroud family, doomed to be forgotten and also to drag whoever had the bad luck to get involved with them or too stained with blot down to hell with them. But inevitably, as he always does, Idia settles into resignation.

They make Ruggie the Housewarden. Headmaster Crowley hems and haws about it clearly unsure what to do with a Housewarden who doesn't come with prestige, power or money. All the students though know that Ruggie is — was — Leona's right hand. Even if he wasn't technically Vice Housewarden Ruggie was the heart and Leona the brain. If asked Ruggie would have declined but there's no asking when it comes to Overblot cleanup. They simply make it happen. Replacing that many memories is difficult and it's obvious that Ruggie can tell something is missing. Idia is glad he attends Housewarden meetings via tablet because he wouldn't be able to hide his expression, not with the stumbles over things Ruggie should know — if he is truly Housewarden — or the blanks in memory that everyone seems to share.

"And, on the topic of academic eligibility. . ." Vil Schoenheit intones. There is the barely veiled something in his voice. Idia would call it judgey. Riddle called it leadership. Azul only ever commented on it if he wanted something from either the party under scrutiny or Vil himself. Scarabia had no horse in the race and Kalim couldn't read Vil's tone anyway.

"Hm? What about it?" Ruggie asks.

"Test scores are posted publicly." Vil points out.

"Yeah? An' so what? Savanaclaw's meeting what we need to." Ruggie is defensive and Idia can't see his expression but imagines Ruggie must look trapped. Leona had been able to field scrutiny with the swagger of any jock alpha male but Ruggie had never been the type.

"There are academic standards to uphold." Riddle breaks in. "While bare minimum is something students can achieve as Housewarden you should be — "

"Should be this? Should be that? Who're you all to say that? I never asked for this. This ain't my job. It's — " Ruggie snaps and then his words come to a halt.

"Ahhh. Right. Right. Let's all just remember every dorm has its strength, right? Here at Ignihyde we're technomantic specialists. Pomefiore's being super bijin and Savanaclaw is meatheads good at throwing rocks. All this arguing is cutting into my game time. Hurry it up." Idia mutters. it successfully derails everyone from whatever Ruggie was going to say. ("Meatheads? I'll show you meathead." "Bijin? Please, Idia use normal language that doesn't reduce my students to just looks." "I notice you said nothing of Octavinelle." "Let's all get along like Idia-senpai said!")

[koropukgoro]

I wrote a silly thing teehee runs away

“…So, what is it?”

“I’m not sure myself—but it’s worth 500k, and that’s enough for us.”

Spike’s nimble fingers twiddled the device around, tracing its edges and weird patterned ridges. It was small, with almost illegible symbols, and clearly looked important, even in its insignificance. 

“Does it even do anything? Or perhaps there’s something inscribed on it—maybe if we bother Ed enough, they’ll do some digging.”

Jet scoffed, “you’re not the only one curious, but sometimes, given our record, it’s better to not poke the bear’s den, Spike.”

To that, Spike flipped the device up like a coin, catching it in his other hand. He smirked when Jet’s face briefly lit with worry. “But where’s my fun then? Cowboys like me gotta get some action outta a job… babysitting is boring.” 

“Boring is going to pay for next week’s groceries. You can afford to be bored once in a while.” Jet was right, even if Spike made a face that suggested otherwise. So, he shrugged his shoulders, and carried the device over to the next room, waving his free hand along the way. 

“Sure, sure. Maybe this time we’ll actually get some beef… and maybe cheese. I can go for a homemade deli sandwich right now…” 

“We don’t get paid in advance, hold your horses.” Jet’s voice was fading as Spike navigated the interior of the Bebop, slipping through the sliding door into the hallway. If he was gonna be bored with this gig, might as well spend it watching television. 

As usual, Spike was doing exactly what Jet would have quipped him for—carelessness with the prize. It wasn’t like Spike was clumsy; Spike had been known for his crafty fingers, and knew when to be delicate, but nothing could stop him from stimulating his brain like tossing the device up and down, between hands. 

 It wasn’t until his foot caught on the carpet did Spike miss a toss, letting out a shout as their prized possession tumbled to the floor with a click. 

Wait, a click? Did something open on it? Spike crouched to the floor, gingerly swiping up the object of desire for examination. Indeed, a small hatch had opened, with the cowboy pressing it close to his vision and squinting to get a better look inside. 

Another click, then a sharp pain—enough to make Spike wince and drop the device again. Something had pricked him, with evidence to boot as a tiny trail of blood left the side of his finger. “What the hell?” He thought out loud, realizing the prick was beginning to feel numb. Shit, poison?! His mind tried to keep up as he shot to his feet, leaving his prize behind to go seek out help. Jet would have been where he left him in the living room, and Ed—oh, Ed could have been anywhere on the ship. They weren’t one for standing still. 

 Only Spike didn’t make it to the door, even. The numbing feeling had snakes up his arm to his entire being, and his bones were beginning to ache in the joints. What’s worse, Spike felt himself breathing hard, like he was fighting the urge to vomit. His eyelids felt heavy, with his fingers attempting to grasp at the door’s controls before he slammed into the floor, knocked out cold. 

*** 

The first thing Spike took note of was his crushing headache. Lazily opening an eye, he let out a groan, covering his face with a hand. Why are the lights so damn bright? His mind wandered to what he last remembered before shooting up in his seat. That’s right! Stupid fuckin’ gadget had poisoned him. Well, so he thought. Aside from his migraine and aching joints, Spike certainly didn’t feel poisoned. Maybe nauseated—but who would make a device that just leaves you a little stomach sick? Not with that kind of price on its head. 

 That was a question that’d have to wait. Right now, Spike needed to assess his surroundings. He should have still been in the hallway, if memory served, but as he peered around… this definitely wasn’t the hallway. First off, those lights were too fucking bright—beaming above him like headlights. He could almost hear the hum of the electricity in the bulbs, like an annoying buzz in his throbbing eardrums. This made him rub his head, groaning again at his migraine. Next thing he took note of was how wherever he was, stretched on forever. The sleek, metal floor and walls that seemed so far away kept going and going, almost infinite in his limited field of view. That in of itself was definitely not terrifying, making Spike’s stomach lurch again with new nausea. 

 Just gawking was not going to solve this. The cowboy rose to his feet steadily, testing his sense of balance as he did so. Spike proceeded to feel his pockets, only brushing against a few spare change and his empty cigarette box. Where did the device go? Spike bit his lip as he remembered dropping it, but as his eyes darted around, he couldn’t see the likes of it against the floor. What he did see was something in the distance of the infinite expanse, a bit out of his range of vision. Squinting, Spike couldn’t get a better look from his position—only that it was big; he began taking a small walk, picking it up as a jog to close the gap. 

 It was a ship of some sort. Definitely not as big as his Swordfish II, but definitely big enough to squeeze one pilot inside. Brushing his hands along it, Spike tried to get a good look into the cockpit, taking note of the circular design, almost like an oversized dinner plate. It was sleek, like some of the newer ships he had seen in a few browsing magazines—new age stuff, with the highly advanced technology only those with lined pockets could buy; something a cowboy like him couldn’t begin to dream of owning. Besides, those sleek engines just weren’t tasteful. Spike might have had rough fixes with his Swordfish II, but at least it built character. 

 But why was it here? And where was here, anyway?! If his headache wasn’t drilling holes into his brain, maybe Spike could stop and entertain theories. All he did was sigh, slumping against the side of the circular ship and wishing he had one last cigarette to help him through this situation. Digging into his pocket, Spike fished out his phone. Maybe he could get a signal—Nope, that hope was dashed before it could even exist. “Stupid junk,” he muttered in frustration, tossing it to the floor and watching the plastic snap off its side. He could get a repair later, he thought. If the cockpit didn’t seem sewn shut, he could have maybe attempted to fly this dinner plate, too, but alas. Clearly the thing had a set of keys that was necessary—Spike felt out of luck. 

 As he kicked at the floor with his heel, trying to vent out his frustration, Spike heard a sound. Immediately he pressed his back to the ship, sinking down into a crouch and peeking over the side of its circumference. 

 Nothing… odd. As he turned to move his position, a large shadow interrupted him. No sooner than Spike snapped his head up did he meet a large, black, and…wet object. Wet and cold. It was spewing like a loud vent, too, sucking in hot air and exhaling enough to make Spike’s hair fly. Then came the large, even wetter sheet of pink—slathering Spike head to toe with… slobber? 

 Swearing and shouting, Spike pushed away as fast as he could from his assailant. The stench of dog breath stained the air as he coughed and sputtered, wiping the humid saliva off his face. Cracking an eye open, the cowboy almost doubled over in shock at what he had to crane his neck to see. 

“Ein?!” 

BARK!

 Spike slammed his hands over his ears, shouting back at the oversized Welsh corgi. As if sensing the man’s discomfort, it whined, lowering its head in an apology. Spike’s heart was pounding in his chest—he was struggling to wrap his brain around it. The damn dog was huge! Bigger than the Swordfish II, hell, bigger than the Bebop for all he knew. Dogs don’t just grow to the size of damn buildings—! Unless? Spike slowly turned back, eyeing the ship once more. Of course. Why didn’t he think of this sooner?! 

 Not that it made any sense, but he had nothing else to really go on—the only logical leap (and trust me, it was a leap) to make was that somehow… Spike had shrunk. The device that pricked his finger with that poison was the ship he found his back to at the very moment—it had shrunk him. 

 But… how? Spike was starting to feel his nausea creep back, feeling his body quiver at the very idea of what his reality had become. No wonder everything was so bright—so loud—he was just small! He didn’t want to contemplate how small at the moment; what mattered right now was how to fix this, and he clearly wasn’t going to be able to do it himself. 

 So, with a deep breath, Spike finished wiping the dog drool off his jacket and straightened his stance. It felt uncanny, having to crane his neck back to stare up at one of the shortest dog breeds, with his hands on his hips and refueled determination.

  “Ein!” He spoke in a commanding tone, “listen up!” 

 The dog tilted its head as if to indicate it was doing just that. Spike grinned, “good boy! Now, I need you to give me a lift to Jet!” Ein watched as Spike walked up to the dog’s front leg, confidence in his step. Making sure his sleeves were rolled up and ready, Spike grabbed onto two big handfuls of fur and began to pull himself up. Thankfully, Corgis were one of the shortest dog breeds, making the trek much quicker if it were otherwise. Once the man got a sure footing on the dog’s back, he gave Ein’s neck a pat. 

“Alright boy, now get going!” 

 Ein decided shaking was a better idea. Spike immediately lost his grip, letting out a cry as he was thrown right off the dog and slammed into the floor. His side exploded with pain, making Spike groan and struggle to sit up. 

 “What the fuck was that, you mutt!” He shouted up at Ein, who simply trotted over to stare down with a big panting grin. If Spike wasn’t in immediate pain, he would have given the animal a flip of the bird and a lecture to boot. Ein wasn’t done, though, and before Spike could scramble away, the dog’s snout lowered itself down, jaws open. Somehow, the animal knew to be gentle with its package, grabbing Spike by his jacket’s nape and hoisting him up into the air. He had been scruffed, like a damn kitten! “Put me down! You fuckin’ dog I said put me—“ the animal began to walk, making Spike’s squirming for freedom quiet down. Last thing he needed was to double down on his new injuries and break a rib… It wasn’t like Ein was ignoring him, at least.

 In fact, Ein was doing exactly what Spike had requested; Ein was going to bring Spike to Jet. 

*** 

[this-is-where-i-hide-my-bullshit]

Also oppositional defiant disorder is a heaping load of horse shit that treats children like malfunctioning robots instead of people for the terrible crimes of wanting their own autonomy or wanting the people caring for them to take their thoughts and feelings seriously, or even just experiencing symptoms of nerodivergence.

Like I struggled to get my homework done on time because of fear of failure and problems remembering what I learned in class and my inability to write fast enough to take notes, but instead of asking me if I was struggling and needed help, the adults in my life were just like "clearly you aren't doing your homework as some sort of challenge to the teachers authority and also because you're lazy!"

Or any time I tried to remove myself from situations that were causing me sensory overload. Like no, I didn't start screaming in the store as a child just to be an asshole, I started screaming because everything was too bright and too loud and too smelly and I wanted to LEAVE because it felt like I was being attacked by my surroundings but the adult there with me wouldn't let me leave so I did the only thing I could do, cry and scream my lungs out because everything felt unbearable and I wanted out of that hell. The screaming would've been EASILY avoided if anyone had bothered to ask me what I needed or even just found a quiet place in the store where I could sit for a while until everything stopped feeling horrible.

But nobody did that, because they don't care about the actual reasons why children are "difficult", they don't want to take the time to try to reason with them and take their problems seriously, all they care about is that the kid isn't shutting up and doing what they're told perfectly and without question. They don't see children as people.

Like yeah of course kids are going to resent the people using the power they have over them to make their lives more difficult!!! It's almost like they have their own thoughts and emotions that aren't being acknowledged and they're sick of it and pissed off that nobody is treating them like people!!!

[nofoxgiven]

OK well now I'm thinking about it a bunch

So my great grandpa died to cancer when I was in 6th or 7th grade, it was the first and to this day, only major death in my life so to say it had an impact on me is a bit of an understatement

First off, he was the only male role model in my life, like ever. My dad walked out on me before i was born, and my step dad was such a piece of shit I never considered him any kind of father figure, just a leach living in the same house who happened to be married to my mother and have donated sperm for my siblings

My mother's father *also* walked out on her

I have a singular uncle, and while he's an awesome guy now, he was literally a teenager unpacking a lot of complex trauma himself while I was growing up

I don't think my family really... worried? At all about the whole lack of male role models thing, I was a girl after all, I can learn everything I need to know from all these women around me

Except I'm not a woman, and it would be really nice to have a standard to hold myself to

For a while I considered my grandpa, he was a veteran, he took care of my grandma, my memories of him are mostly good

But unfortunately he died when I was too young to be smart enough to make sure I got to know him. I know he liked wood working, I've got a rocking horse he made me, it's in our garage. And a half finished dollhouse he started when I was 5, and died before he ever finished it

My memories of him are almost entirely of him in his lazyboy, before things got bad, and then in his hospital bed when they got real bad

I've got maybe a handful of memories from when I was real young before he was old and tired and sick, riding around on the four-wheeler with him in the Alaskan wilderness, helping with chores around the cabin, that sort of thing

But I didn't truly know him, and the more stories I hear from my mom the more... the more I'm glad I didn't? I don't want to sully the memory of the only male rolemodel from my family I've got, so I'll leave it at he was certainly a product of his time, and as an old white Christian man I'm certain you can guess what sort of opinions he held I do not

All this to say I clearly have a complicated relationship with my memory of and the legacy of my great grandpa

I remember pretty clearly the last time I saw him, it was the weekend, we drove the 2 hours to my grandparents house in the literal middle of nowhere

I remember staring at a bowl of soup someone had put in front of me, my great grandma's famous chicken corn chowder. This soup has caused fist fights over who gets to take the leftovers home. I couldn't eat any of it

It was very obvious to everyone this was a final hurrah, grandpa hadn't been talking or doing much of anything for weeks and now he was insisting people come talk to him and making people call family out of state. He knew. We knew.

There was a whole lot of sitting around just hugging people and crying and that's all a blur, but when he called me over, I remember exactly what he said and I think I always will. Some of it I'm keeping close to my chest because that was for me only, but he ended it with "Please add more color to your life"

12 year old me did not take that to heart. I was goth/emo and proud of it and I wasn't about to let some dead old guy tell me how to dress

But I did actually take it to heart. By 9th grade I had a fully rainbow coat from one of those Indian import stores, I wore it every single day of high-school until eventually it fell apart to the point I couldn't. I've worn mismatched brightly colored or rainbow socks just as long. Most of my clothes are still black and gray, but I hang up colorful art all around me, I buy the most colorful water bottle I can find

In a weird way I think it helped me come to terms with my queer identity. I know he didn't mean "go be queer and happy" that man would have disowned me if he had lived long enough to see me go from his perfect granddaughter to a queer freak

But his urging to add color lead to a lot of queer people approaching me in my high-school years. Before I was ready to accept who I was, I was a walking billboard of queerness in my rainbow jacket, and that surrounded me with Trans and bi and lesbian and gay people and every flavor of queer, and gave me the space to explore myself and my identity in a way I might not ever have if I had just kept myself in my dark closet of shame

There is literally no point to this post, and I'll probably delete it before the end of the day. But boy is life complicated, and I sure am glad an old racist white man told me to add more color to my life, maybe I'll pretend to have forgotten all the shit my mom's told me

[wandaluvstacos]

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

CHAPTER SIXTEEN IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

As he laid in his living quarters at the showgrounds in Joplin one night, Victor looked up Johnny Stearns rodeo on YouTube. The results included a slew of clips from Johnny’s professional career, including a few interviews conducted afterward. One of the interviewers was a pretty slim blonde woman with a cowboy hat, and Johnny was unerringly charming, so much so that she seemed open to flirting a bit on camera. It made Victor sick to watch, so he moved onto another clip, this time of younger Johnny climbing into the shoot with his heavily fringed chaps, protective vest, and pale cowboy hat. When the shoot opened, out exploded a paint draft-type horse, probably at least 1200 pounds of rage. Victor found himself holding his breath as he watched, and he only released it when the horse dumped Johnny and Johnny hauled himself to his feet without hesitation. When he saw his score, the camera caught his huge gap-toothed smile and clenched fist of victory. Apparently this was the ride that rocketed him into notoriety on the professional circuit.

The most popular clip was the one Victor avoided until he could no longer resist. This was the recording of the ride that ended Johnny’s career, and if Victor had better self-control, he would have avoided it altogether. But he had to tap it. The clip started as they all did, with Johnny preparing himself in a shoot as the horse beneath him twitched and shifted nervously. Then the shoot flew open, and out the horse leapt, this one a huge gray with feet the size of plates and a neck and face obscured by a tangled, unkempt mane. The ride lasted all of three seconds, because the horse twisted and bucked to one side with supernatural speed, unseating Johnny just before lashing out with its rear legs and catching Johnny’s face on its way down to the ground. The horse took off upon landing, bucking with abandon. Meanwhile, Johnny was spread eagle in the dirt, and when he lifted his head, his whole face was dripping with blood. He staggered to his feet, then immediately fell to his knees, holding his gushing head with a hand. The medical team rushed to him, which seemed to be the time he passed out, because he didn’t move at all after that.

Victor turned off his phone and set it aside, gut twisting. He shouldn’t have watched it. If he’d seen it without knowing how it ended, he would have thought he witnessed someone’s death. Johnny mentioned having to learn to walk again. It was incredible and stupid that he was still willing to climb onto a horse’s back. Clearly he was a man who didn’t know how to quit. How could he be so stubbornly committed to this thing that nearly got him killed, but any attempt at a life with Victor was too much struggle? How could the danger of dating Victor compare to the danger of riding a feral horse that could kill you with one kick?

He looked at Johnny’s last text to him, which was just a notification that he was bringing Taylor by. Victor didn’t have many photos of him, let alone photos of them together. His words were most of what he had. They bounced around his skull like a song he could only half-remember. He wrote out a text knowing he wouldn’t send it.

Watched some clips of your rides on YouTube. I don’t know why you would voluntarily do that to yourself, but there are a lot of things I wish I knew better about you. I wish… Victor paused, tongue pressed between his lips. What the hell. He wasn’t going to send it anyway. I wish you cared about me as much as I care about you.

With a sigh, Victor added the text to his drafts and decided to go to sleep. He had a long day tomorrow.