#though maybe not spooks like Temperance

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 4 - Runaway

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Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.

“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”

He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.

“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”

One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.

“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.

You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.

It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.

You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.

No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.

You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.

You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.

You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things— but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.

You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.

For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.

Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.

The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.

The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.

The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.

You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.

“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There you are, bird.”

You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.

Fuck.

"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.

You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."

He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."

"Rog."

"Aye."

Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."

You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.

Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.

"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."

"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.

"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."

"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."

"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.

You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.

Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.

"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.

"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.

"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.

"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"

You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.

"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"

"Trying to stop the truck."

"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."

"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.

"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."

He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.

The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."

You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.

He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.

"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"

"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"

"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."

His ears turn pink. "I see."

"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.

"Wish I could."

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”

You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”

“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”

You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.

Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.

You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.

It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?

"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"

"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”

You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."

"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."

"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."

"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."

He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."

Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?

Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.

So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[oofouchstovehot]

FAE BOYS + SMITHY/N REFERENCE!!!!!!!

i was speeding to get this ready asap for the gifting season lol. ref below + some updated notes and all that fun stuff!!

Sun

Wings too big, can't fly.

Soft towards kids, icy to adults

Though always a little aggravated, Sun's mood is generally steady, it takes a lot for him to blow up.

He's completely wrapped around Moon's finger and doesn't know it.

Isn't actually all that old, but he takes on a lot of responsibility (up to and including rearing Moon for Eclipse) and has plenty of metaphorical grey hairs from it.

Moon

Wings too small, can't fly.

Complete and utter scamp, often causes damage when trying to mend it, and fixes issues when trying to make them.

Moons' temper is known to flick back and forth on a dime. Anger is all or nothing for him.

Has his brother completely wrapped around his finger and doesn't know it.

Took interest in SmithY/N at random, intending to observe their life for entertainment, but got invested in their Marriage Arc and wishes they'd just Get Some Sleep.

Chloroform Pixie Dust, in the hands of a rascal like Moon, is quite the intimidating power.

Doesn't entirely understand why Sun's so stressed (and is maybe a little sorry for causing so much of it) and hopes that the collision of his favourite brother and favourite plaything might bring them both to worry a little less. (Or, at least, to worry about something else)

SmithY/N

Still no official job title, but creates fine jewellery. Renowned throughout for their intricate works of art, they live in the castle by commission of several members of the court.

Though silver and gold are standard for commissions, Y/N themself wears only plain iron... besides the engagement ring, of course.

Their arranged marriage is more than a complicated affair, between Y/N, who is marrying nobility so that the rest of their family could climb rank as well (though they'd rather be doing this for love or joy), and The Spouse, the youngest of several who appreciates Y/N's abilities but is far more interested in the freedom and stability married life would bring them. They both get along alright for now.

Stressed out by the coming changes and the pressure from both their own family and in-laws, Y/N finds the time in between honing their craft and wedding preparations to, in true Buttercup fashion, escape their problems through horseback riding. After a particularly rough night, their spooked horse takes them down a detour and they encounter a certain little observer.

[mamaito]

Have you gotten the new endings in Homicipher like the Goodbye ending? What do you think of them?

The three new endings were rather confusing but from what I understand is that the heroine willed this entire world into existence, when the phone calls you one last time, commenting that you've been here before or rather from the very beginning changes the entire game's storyline.

Because then we have another information that Mr. Scarletella is implied to be a figment of the MC's imagination and she brought him to life because during her test of courage, and because she was reading urban legends at the time, came to life.

We have confirmation that in this world, if you willed something hard enough, it can come true. Like the injury that MC had or her size itself. But I doubt it is that powerful that you can will yourself back to your home because then that would mean apparitions can also will anything if they wanted to.

If it is true that she is dreaming all of this, then this adventure was all for naught and she just spooked herself silly. The ending where you're living with Mr. Crawling did not happen and my husband Mr. Hood did not exist...

There are things in the game that contradicts this, other people have experienced being trapped in this world and lived to tell the tale, there is a human walking around who knows the language which means he's been here for a very long now and she doesn't know him so there's no way she conjured all that.

We also have confirmation that Mr. Scarletella can morph reality as he see fits, during chapter 5, by making other characters disappear or the scenario be safe and secure before he arrives to ruin the illusion.

Mr. Scarletella's body is also in the abandoned building so I don't believe that he's a figment of her imagination, maybe a victim that she keeps thinking about? Maybe.. He does appear when there's no one there and it's dark.. Maybe she's regretting something that she keeps drowning out, idk.

So which one is true here, is up to interpretation at this point. But in my opinion, it is the second option.

There is also this question on whether MC is actually a monster or a human, but in my opinion, I think that ruins the theme of asking someone who's exactly is the monster here, figuratively, of course.

The heroine is quick tempered, prone to get revenge, bloodthirsty and violent. While the apparitions, even though they still commit violence, lies under misunderstanding and differing culture, if you can call it that.

tldr: the MC really wants a monster husband very badly. lol

[javierduffy]

just a few javieran horse headcanons because i like them a normal amount

branwen

- tall AND fat. kieran makes sure he’s always fed (maybe even accidentally a teensy bit overfed. just because kieran can’t help but indulge him when he butts him with his head or nuzzles at his pockets when he knows there’s treats in there. but never too much because ‘obesity is a problem, even in animals !’). probably about 17hh, taller than average for a kentucky saddler but nothing too big. especially since kieran himself is quite tall

- VERY well-tempered, both naturally, as well as because kieran has literally made him bulletproof. bagged him, blanketed him, stood, jumped, backflipped onto and off of him. this kindly gentleman of a horse only spooks when he wants to be bratty specifically.

- i think he’s about 6 or so, came from the stables kieran worked at after being orphaned, he was just a colt when kieran was just a kid. kieran learned how to birth foals quickly, and branwen happened to be one of them. with the way that they fell in love with each other and the way that branwen whinnied and pranced up to the fence when kieran came back to buy him after the army didn’t work out, you’d think that horse was born just for him.

- his favourite treats, in order, are rutabaga (kieran’s secret for branwen’s glossy coat. also why he’s kinda fat.), boiled potatoes mixed into his oats, apples, and fresh greens. he’s simultaneously incredibly easy to please because of the simplicity of the latter parts of his favourites list and also very needy and complicated because kieran so loves to make his pony happy with his absolute favourite treats, so he tries his very best to get branwen’s eccentric tastes pleased once falling into the VDL’s.

- i always say “a horse’s favourite thing to do is hurt itself”, and i think this statement holds relatively true for branwen as well, though there’s a 25% chance that he’s actually hurt, a 50% chance that he’s only mildly injured or spooked and he’s playing it up to get kieran to dote on him, and a 25% chance that he will protect kieran with his life when they’re in a dire situation (see: snake on the ground or gunfire nearby. or even god forbid a spare tumbleweed find it’s way rolling nearby.) despite kieran’s last wish being his horse getting injured. branwen thinks that he’s gotta be The Man and protect his dad sometimes. it does not help in any situation ever whatsoever.

- branwen is the PERFECT companion for a trail riding date. he’s settled, calm, has a great gait, and as a gelding, truly is not worried about other horses being “faster” than him, so he never gets rowdy nor has any problems when partner riders/horses crowd him. kieran is allowed to ask for as many kisses as he pleases because branwen will never jump when javier’s gold-tipped boots poke him in the side and boaz irritatedly flicks his flank with his tail. truly a goated wingman. also never complains about long rides, and enjoys being out of camp with his rider for as much as physically possible for both of them, so he’s never barnsour in either direction.

boaz

- as an american paint, he’s naturally short and stocky. saddle ends up being a bit loose, though, as javier isn’t as dedicated to keeping him perfectly fed or groomed. he loves him, sure, but horses are somewhat of tools to him, so he kinda does slightly more than bare minimum to keep him kempt and healthy. around 14.5hh, slightly shorter than average and quite dense with muscle

- temperamentally a bit volatile. this horse has just as much drama as his rider, if not a little more. doesn’t like something ? ridden too long ? that stick looks too much like a snake ? hasn’t spent enough time with kieran that day ? he will snort and grunt and bunny hop if javi isn’t on him, and shudder hard enough the saddle shakes underneath him if he is. boaz likes to please his rider, but he also demands pleasure himself, and has no issue with “accidentally” placing a hoof on his owners nice, intentionally clean boots, and subsequently slowly leaning more and more of his weight onto it when he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. bratty pony. generally, he keeps javier safe, though, when it comes down to it.

- around 5 years old. after dutch found javier trying to steal chickens the first time they met, he soon took him back to that ranch and their first take as gang leader and member was a 1 year old grey paint colt for javi to train and subsequently ride. until he was rideable, javier rode a morgan that was formerly hosea’s, named carolina, while he lead boaz everywhere behind him.

- favourite treats, in order, are corn cobs (especially dried), prickly pear fruit AND cactus, sugar cubes, and sliced apples. will force javier to share his maiz with him. javier has always sliced his apples up since he was a colt, not only because javi simply finds comfort in toying with his knife, but also because boaz will not eat them otherwise. javi will also cut all of the spines off of the cactus before letting boaz eat them.

- in terms of injury, boaz is the most dramatic tank on the planet. this horse could arthur morgan-style run face first into a tree and then fall off a cliff and walk it off. but not before he gimps and limps and whines and teeth grinds his way into javier leading him instead of riding him for the next mile or two. once kieran started taking care of him, there is also a 25% chance of boaz faking a terribly painful injury just to get kieran to dote on him.

- kinda the worst wingman ever LMFAO easily annoyed, easily aroused, easily offended, and as a stallion, HAS to walk in front of the “herd” (his rider’s boyfriend and his horse). pins his ears back, smashes into personal space, flicks branwen with his tail (and preferably kieran, if he can reach him) even sometimes will nip at branwen if the latter tries to calmly make this date a date and not a life or death race (whoever loses, their dad is gay) and walk side-by-side to aid their riders’ hand holdings. will make executive decisions via stopping or veering off for fresh green grass beside the trail, will at points actively attempt to shudder javier out of his saddle (has succeeded once when javi was distracted by a story being excitedly told by kieran), and will also spook and take off running so fast javier thinks it must have broken his neck from the velocity. generally makes trail rides a living hell, but kieran finds it charming, and it makes for some cute shoujo-style “omg … *reaches out to help you up after your horse bucks you off because he saw a log that looked nothing at all and everything like a cougar and pink and white soft bubbles surround me* are you okay ? here, let me help.” moments. maybe some day boaz will be allowed off of the national american terrorist list written by javier “rizzless rider” escuella

ok im tired and that’s all i can think of please enjoy and feel free to contribute 👍 i love them so bad im gona cry

[charmac]

curious - do you think rcg may have had any notion that they may seriously explore the possibility of mac being gay in s6 era? s5 functionally lays the majority of groundwork for the subtext that they evolved into canonical text and s6 opens with mac fights gay marriage and imo mac is pretty heavily gay coded throughout that season. however, s7 totally makes me believe they hadn’t really considered it, because mac’s gay subtext is almost completely nonexistent, bar the flashback from s6 in 7x10. he is overtly “straight” that season. clearly by s8 it’s fully canon and one of the most logical next steps they could’ve taken with his character in retrospect, but i have always wondered if many of the choices in s6 wrt mac’s sexuality becoming increasingly more ambiguous were deliberate and i’m curious about your perspective.

I do 100%! I've definitely spoken about this before... I'm not sure if it was here or a Discord or maybe even an in-person conversation, but I've always thought it was so insane how they tell you Mac and Dennis Break Up is romantic in some sense. They are realising that their codependency is more than some "bromance" and it spooks them (obviously, really more-so Dennis).

I think acknowledging it on TASP isn't a surprise, but the fact that it's stated in the DVD commentary, before they even filmed S6, makes it clear that this was intentional foundation they intended to work off of. When Dee shatters the glass closet by stating Dennis' codependency with Mac is viewed as an "old married couple" situation, it fucks Dennis up way more than Mac, because Mac is unable to recognise the queerness of their relationship while Dennis can.

Once they make up, they've established something in the writers room going forward for Mac & Dennis that they clearly want to keep a part of their dynamic (again, as reaffirmed on the MADBU TASP episode): they are gay for each other. But they're not going to (mutually) recognise or accept it, because that ruins the joke.

So, in my opinion, they go into Season 6 really digging into that dynamic and playing on the joke by pushing against it: Dennis recognises the issue of being into Mac internally so he needs a wife; Mac recognises the issue of being gay externally so he needs to fight the gays. No doubt in my mind that throughout S6 they were writing and acting with this idea - though probably with no firm idea of where they wanted it to end up.

So we get to Season 7, and your point is the reason why Season 7 is one of my least favourite Seasons as a coherent part of Sunny (keeping in mind the flashbacks in How Mac Got Fat are just a scrapped S6 episode, reworked) - it seems to ignore a lot of the build up in order to make funny stand-alone episodes of the show. Was it because of Fat Mac? (Only one identity at a time for Mac, pls!) Is it because they had a chunk of guest writers? Is it because they thought there was a large chance it was the final season of the show? (They've talked about how when they shot the final scene for S7 (HS Reunion) it was under the idea that they might not get renewed)

Probably only RCG truly know (and maybe they don't even remember). As for me, while I don't think it was necessarily deliberate, like they sat down and said "actually lets roll back the gay [Mac] stuff here..." my idea is that going into S7 they hadn't yet figured out (or couldn't agree) if/how they wanted to make Mac's homosexuality crystal clear.

Maybe they dropped it for a season before deciding... or maybe this downtime served a purpose, because the reveals on Sunny serve one main goal: Subvert expectations.

Going from S5/6 to 8 is very obvious. That is a closeted gay guy. BUT when you have S7 cut in there in the middle, this working-season where they kind of play hard into Mac's aggressive temper and his stupidity and the fact that he's a voyeur, it's a little less-so. You're hit with Season 8 and that attempted kiss kind of comes out of nowhere and then every episode following has some kind of Mac is GAY moment and it's just extremely funny... Like, oh holy shit he's gay and he can't even recognise it.

But that gap does kinda throw you off like, was this a decision once they got renewed going forward that they needed one of them to be obviously gay based on their history? I really don’t think so, the foundation seems too intentional and the evidence we have that RCG acknowledged the character’s queerness (of all them) back then is enough to have me firmly believe the S6 stuff was just further groundwork for Mac’s character and his and Dennis’ opposing relationship

[nthspecialll]

Hello!

You mentioned in some of your posts that you have experience with horse riding, so I was wondering if you could tell us how realistic and accurate the stuff you see and do in the game actually is. I mean stuff like taming and riding horses, taking care of them etc.

I was the anon that asked about Red Dead Revolver btw. I think I accidentally hit Ask anonymously before sending the ask lol

Oh well hello there and yeah I can! But firstly I will mention that I ride english and not western, but I shall do my best, ask me again in a year and I will be able to talk about western as well though PFT.

Okay so the biggest inaccuracy is that you don't gallop everywhere in real life, like you gallop maybe five to ten percent or something in real life, most people who rides endurance (timed longer rides) will ride the most part in trot and walk, the same goes for just trail riding.

Second unrealistic thing is the brushing... Like you can't just brush on the neck and we good to go, like you gotta take the saddle off and get all the grime and dirt away, that is literally why you brush. Similarly a lot of domesticated horses can't just live on hay and grass, they need vitimes and stuff too but I don't think there was focus on that in 1800 America.

Another unaccurate thing is that our horse really only gets scared when there is shit to be scared of. Like, idk about western horses, but I know english horses can at times get so scared OF NOTHING, like wind blowing, their own farts, stuff like that. Like my horse is not scared of gunshots, but for some reason he is scared of cameras.

As for taming horses, the thing that Arthur does is literally breaking a horse, he is going up, overwhelming it and then "putting in respect", most people now a days will take so many steps before that to ensure that the first ride is a good experience. Normally when you tame a horse you will do months of ground work prior to jumping on that back.

Something that might just be western riding, is that Arthur does sitting trot rather than riding trot, meaning he doesn't stand up and sit down while trotting which a lot of people in english riding do. Similarly in gallop he is sitting, he isnt in a light seat. Most people get told that when you gallop you get out of the saddle to make sure the horse's back is free, he doesn’t do that.

The accurate stuff would be that different horses have differnet tempers, which they do in red dead, like Arabians spook more than Shires. Similarly in red dead every breed has main stats but then other stats get automated to give each horse more personality.

Another thing is that horses coming when you whistle isn't just a game feature, I have had several people get shocked that my horse comes when I whistle. Of course it isn't something horses are born knowing but it is not at all that hard to teach.

I also love that horses in game goes into "dragon mode," which is basically when they are scared and start huffing and puffing, horses irl does that too, tip tapping around.

[gustava-the-great]

The soft hum of distant festivity filtered through the evening air, a symphony of laughter and flickering campfire light. Yet Raphael’s arrival seemed to still the night itself, as though the shadows leaned in to better admire their master. He stood at the edge of the clearing, whiskey-colored eyes aglow with a predator's gleam. Draped in his usual finely tailored doublet, he leaned against a tree, his gaze ever searching.

And then, there she was. The apple of his eye.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite mortal mischief-maker.” His gaze traveled over her, slow, a caress without ever lifting a finger. “Though I must say, the shadows don’t do you justice. They hide all your... finer features.” Flaterrer.

He stepped forward, his presence bringing with it an almost tangible heat.

“How is it, my darling, that even with road dust clinging to your skin, you remain so utterly... delectable?” A smirk followed, smug and sharp as a blade. “If I were a lesser man, I might think you were trying to tempt me for once.”

// flirty raph ♥

It was rare for Tav to be away from the excitement of a party, usually being the first to grab the nearest friend and drag them into a dance.

But as much as the bard would love to join her friends and paint forest red, she needed time alone. Time to breathe. To think.

...That is until she was spooked by her favourite cambion showing up out of the blue, yet again.

"EEK!"

She was about to tell him off for always doing this, but his wandering gaze made her freeze, her hot-tempered words dying on her tongue.

Raphael has given her occasional looks like this in the past, but she tried not to pay too much attention to it. Maybe he was just admiring her clothes? They were the same ones she'd been wearing for days on end, but hey! They were awesome!

But this time... it was becoming a little too difficult to brush off his suggestive gaze. Not when he was... saying stuff like this.

"...Uhh... What?" Tav blinked slowly, regarding the devil with a bewildered expression, blush colouring her cheeks.

"...I. Uh. Um..."

She was at a loss for words. She hated being at a loss for words!

What was he up to? Why was he saying this to her? If he wants to compliment her, why was he saying it in such a way? Whatever happened to HELLO?!

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger The Movie Reader Insert | Chapter 12. Heart To Hart

pairing: Ray Manchester/f!reader + Platonic!Henry Hart/f!reader

summary: (y/n) sits down to talk with Henry, determined to find out what's going on with him. She's surprised and disappointed with what she hears.

rating: F + A - fluffy and angsty, adult language, jealousy, references to abusive/neglectful parents, henry gets a whack on the head for being dense, slight canon divergency

word count: 4.3k

a/n: i wrote this really quickly. henry needed someone to talk some sense into him, and (y/n) is the one for the job. also the jasper backstory is very self-indulgent cos i love that kid, but i think it's fairly canon to say his mom is shitty. they imply it on the show.

Thank you for reading! I (respectfully) yearn for likes, comments, and reblogs. Click for vibes

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There wasn't really anywhere to hide in Shimmers. People filled every corner; some danced, some drank, some puked, and others... Well, it was a good thing the shadows hid whatever they got up to. 

(y/n) didn't know the place very well, but she knew the boy she searched for. Henry wasn't the type to run away completely, not one to abandon his friends and lose himself over a temper tantrum. Logic said he wouldn't have left the building, which narrowed things down. 

The only problem was that the nightclub was big. Two floors at least. Besides the multiple dance floors, there were side rooms, VIP rooms, toilets, the backstage area, bars, a cloakroom, employee locker rooms, and more. Too many places for her to search quickly, but plenty for a young man to squirrel himself away. 

Still, (y/n) knew how the kid thought. She knew what he liked and didn't like. And she liked to think she was a little more levelheaded than he was. 

So, logic said he wouldn't go anywhere too icky, which ruled out the toilets. Nor would he go anywhere too busy, and that excluded the packed bars and the main floors since they were heaving with partygoers. As much as he liked to think of himself as a celebrity, Henry wasn't a VIP, either, so he wouldn't be there. And he couldn't get into the locker rooms without raising a few questions. 

It left the standing thoughtfully in a busy walkway, thrumming her fingers against her mouth as she scanned her surroundings. Everything came up as a negative until she chanced upon a possibility. One that called to her from the beginning since it was quiet, , and not overstuffed with morons popping shots and doing God knows what else. 

Into the kitchen, she went. 

It's where she thought Henry had headed, and it made sense. She pushed open the door and slipped in, luckily not spotted by a waiter or grumpy chef, who might wonder what a dolled-up lady was doing in their domain. They'd all scarpered after the fight, ditching their stations and leaving the kitchen barren. Not a soul to be found. 

Well, except maybe one. 

"Hey..." Her voice was soft not to spook the boy she'd found, offering a small smile even though he didn't look at her. 

Henry slumped against a workstation, cowering with his back against cold steel after removing the ridiculous wig that made his head itch. The navy tunic was gone, too, tossed to some unknown corner because he was sick of the sight of it, which left him in the frilly, white shirt. "Hey, (y/n/n)."

His voice sounded croaky, matching his swollen eyes and damp cheeks since he could let it all out with no one around. He'd heard her push open the door but made no move to run; Coach Cregg really did a number on him, stealing his strength and energy. At least she walked in, not Schwoz or Piper or a complete stranger. 

He loved those two, but (y/n/n)... He could break in front of her, and she wouldn't laugh or sneer. She'd be tender, and Henry needed some of that right now. 

(y/n) moved closer, circling the cookers and prep areas until she saw how low he hung his head, avoiding her concerned gaze in favour of staring at his lacy sleeves. She saw the wet, silvery streaks on his cheeks and frowned—felt her heart ache when he sniffed a little to try and be brave. It didn't work. 

"Are you crying?" Dumb question, but she asked it before she could stop herself. 

His tears were painfully obvious, evidence that the poor boy was hurting badly, but out of instinct, he brushed them away, acting like he was fine with all his snot and red eyes. "No..."

"Don't bullshit me, Henry," (y/n) told him with a sigh, and she sat down beside him, scooching over so they could both lean against the counter. "And don't you dare say it's liquid pride."

"Well...maybe a bit." A wobbly smile twitched on his lips, glancing at his sister sadly when she reached for his clammy hand – the one that kept bouncing against his knee. "Just all got a bit much, y'know?"

The heroine nodded, exhaling from her nose with a bitter laugh. As someone sitting on the floor of a nightclub kitchen, galaxies away from home, she knew the feeling. "Yeah, I know. We've seen some weird shit, but not like this. Never had reality change around me."

"Me neither," answered Henry, and he squeezed her hand. He saw the apprehension on her face; neither knew if they'd get home or if it was even possible. "How you up?"

"Surprisingly well. I miss my doofus, but I'll get back to him." But (y/n) was anything if not an optimist. Her smile grew, eyes crinkling as she pictured who waited for her back at that little house – strong arms and the little pitter-patter of tiny feet – and it helped. Wild horses couldn't drag her in the opposite direction. "I always do."

The boy could only wish he had that certainty, but he never considered himself like his old boss. Ray and (y/n) built a life together, and it almost made him jealous to know she had warmth and happiness to return to. His home had none of that—wasn't even sure if he had a home to go back to, and his anxiety grew. 

"...Yeah."

"But I didn't follow you in here to talk about me." She pulled him from his melancholy, and Henry looked away, shoulders tensing as she turned to a conversation he'd been trying to outrun. 

"No?" He tried to play it dumb. 

"No. So, do you want to tell me what this is all about?" But it didn't work. "Or am I going to have to use brute force?"

He huffed and dropped her hand, pulled his knees closer to his chest and pursed his lips as if to keep the world out. If anything, it made him look like a little kid, sulking in a ball, worlds away from the tough guy he wanted to be. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"No, but you're gonna," she replied firmly, prodding his side as she adjusted her position, facing him cross-legged to scrutinise every movement. "Come on. Tell Ol' (y/n/n) what's wrong."

How could he get away from that?

Henry sighed, all the air leaving his lungs as he pulled his palm over his tired eyes. He really didn't want to talk about it, but he knew she'd not let up. (y/n) always pulled the truth from him eventually, and unless the ground swallowed him up, there was nowhere to go. 

"...I had a fight with Jasper." The confession slipped from his lips in a little whisper, nearly making him cry all over again. 

"Oh." Was all (y/n) could react with – a bad habit that Ray could attest was like a punch in the gut when expecting another answer. But she was surprised, expecting some baggage from Dystopia, but nothing as serious. "Like physically or...?"

"No, we didn't beat each up!" The boy quickly protested, staring at her in alarm for ever thinking that. Sure, they argued, but he'd never hurt Jasper. At least not with his fists. "We just...fell out."

She nodded thoughtfully, piecing together everything from the moment they reunited to the dark look on Henry's face when he first stepped into Shimmers. "That why you've been giving Captain 'Stache daggers ever since we met him?" 

"Is it that obvious?" He asked quietly, thinking he had masked his resentment well whenever the moustached hero flew beneath the glitter ball or fanned out his cape to send the crowd swooning. 

Apparently not, as (y/n) snorted, shaking her head since she didn't find it funny. Her sharp eyes seemed to look right through him, making Henry feel guiltier, fidgeting like he was on the naughty step. 

"The guy's got a dumb cape, but at the end of the day, he's still Jasper. Your best friend."

"I don't think we're friends anymore," he mumbled, picking at the skin on his fingers so he didn't have to watch her eyebrows fly to her hairline. 

"God, is it really that bad?" Asked the heroine, assuming they'd bickered as all friends do, but it wasn't like him to lie. He had no reason to, and the confession had her leaning forward, an ever-deepening frown on her face. "What happened?"

He shrugged, acting like it didn't eat at his insides as he remembered every word between them—how they left cuts on both sides. "I want to move out. Get my own place. Do my own thing in Dystopia. He didn't take it well."

"Didn't take it well, or did you not give him a choice?" She asked, sounding as disturbed and disdainful as Jasper had when he learned the news. "Sounds like you didn't."

It was the sort of thing he always asked about whenever he phoned home, looking for advice from those who knew best. Still, truthfully, Henry hadn't said a peep in weeks before he found himself in Newtown, not to his roommate or his found family—a real go-it-aloner for no reason. 

"I—well..." he stammered, trying to think of an excuse or explanation when she bit back, but unlike with Jasper, all the lies dried up. She said not to bullshit her, and when she was this close – their knees touching – he couldn't. "I guess things got out of hand. I upset him."

"And this reality stuff all happened before you could apologise?"

"Apologise?" The word didn't sit right on his tongue, feeling clumsy and tasting sour. He looked at her with a scrunched-up nose and a furrowed brow, almost expecting the woman to crack a smile and say—ha-ha, got you! But she didn't. 

(y/n) stared back incredulously, searching his expression to see if he was joking. But he wasn't. "Yeah, Henry. It's where you say sorry. It's what friends do."

"But I did nothing wrong," he argued, looking more concerned with that idea than he had when admitting about the fight. He grew more restless with every second, not liking how her face suddenly looked displeased—and it was directed at him. "Don't look at me like that."

"Oh, I'm looking," she said sharply before folding her arms. Even in a world where she didn't have her tummy tingle, she suspected something suspicious. "What exactly happened between you two? Exactly."

Another sigh left Henry's mouth, and he tilted his head to look at the bright white lights, extractor fans, and pipes on the ceiling. He didn't know where to start, which was probably why he avoided the whole thing, but (y/n) insisted – took his arm and hugged it to her body, so there was no chance of escape. 

Once he started, there was no stopping. Everything from the fight tumbled out in a torrent of word vomit, but it wasn't exactly how Jasper would have told the tale. (y/n) couldn't help but hear all the I's and me's as the kid rambled. 

"There was a fight between us and Blackout. We won, but all he could focus on was this advertising deal I got with BizWatch. I mean, it's not my fault they blurred his photo, and then, he got all pissy with me 'cause apparently, I come across as his boss, and—"

"And then you decided that was the moment to tell him you wanted out," She asked, not wanting to jump in, but she got the gist. 

He nodded slightly, breathless but feeling like a stone had lifted from his chest. "Yeah." 

"...I mean, it's bad, but you think that's it? Friendship over 'cause of that?" The woman asked after a moment, mulling it over since he'd said a lot. 

She didn't look convinced, becoming a little softer after wrongly thinking the kid was panicking over a mere disagreement. Well, he had news for her. 

"That's not everything."

She tensed again, braced for the worst as he winced. The stone returned, crushing him with anxiety because Henry knew she wouldn't like the next bit. He saw it in her hard gaze and how she chewed her lip. "Oh, goodie." 

"Before we separated, he brought you up," he explained, looking more disgruntled as the story unfolded, particularly as he recalled Jasper's low blow. 

"Me?" (y/n) visibly recoiled, pointing at herself like there could ever be two of her. It made the kid smile bitterly, wishing that were the case because then, they wouldn't have to fight. there'd be enough (y/n/n) for the both of them. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Everything!" Henry exclaimed, finally coaxed from his moody silence as they reached his sore point – the bit Jasper prodded to provoke him deliberately. He just knew it.

"He said you'd want nothing to do with me if I left him. What he doesn't realise is that he's holding me back!"

At some point, he'd begun shouting, his voice echoing off the metal surfacing and ringing in the heroine's ears as she stared at him in shock. The outburst left him silently seething, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his fists squeezed like he was ready to hit something. She hated to see him in such a state, with reddened cheeks and frustrated tears pricking at his waterline, but she heard him—loud and clear. 

The anger and – dare she think it – hatred creeping into his tone made her tummy drop, alarmed to hear him speak so harshly about someone she loved and someone he'd known his whole life. It left her feeling disgusted and sad to see what happened when she wasn't around to steer her babies in the right direction. 

"Henry..." (y/n) said quietly, leaning back with an eerily calm expression. "Brace yourself."

"What do you mean brace my—ow!" The boy frowned, mouthing her words, only to grimace when she sharply whacked the back of his head, shaking her head as she did. 

All he could do was rub at the sore spot and pout, wondering what he'd done to deserve her harshest punishment. "What was that for?!"

"For being a moron," (y/n) replied, tutting through her teeth as she propped her cheek up against her fist. "I can't believe what I'm hearing."

He crumbled under her stern gaze, turning from a raging beast to docile with one glance – now a pup with blunt canines. He didn't want to upset her, so Henry felt like whimpering, dipping his head and mumbling to placate the temper he'd roused. 

"Please, don't take his side."

That had the woman blinking – one, two, three times, wishing she'd misheard him, but no. He said that—accused her of picking one kid over another, and truly, after so many years of knowing one another, (y/n) hoped Henry knew her better than that.

He didn't; otherwise, he'd know that (y/n) Manchester always tried to be fair, especially when it concerned the many children once under her wing. It was her number one rule: no one ever took her love away; it just grew when it needed to. 

"Take his side? Henry, I am not taking anyone's side," she told him sternly, spitting out the words, glaring furiously and leaving him slightly petrified. "But I see things differently to you."

"Yeah..." he answered quietly, scoffing and rolling his eyes as his insecurities crept in. Before he knew what he said, he spilt his guts, looking at the heroine with glassy eyes and quivering lips. 

"You see Jasper as your favourite, even though I've known you the longest."

Silence. Crickets. Could've heard a pin drop in China as (y/n) sat back and huffed. 

Even if she chewed him out, shouted at him, and said she never wanted to see him again, Henry wished she'd say something as the seconds dragged on. Anything. It was better than looking at whatever emotion was on her face. 

He wouldn't quite describe it as upset, angry, or shocked. Livid felt right, with (y/n) frozen except for her steady breathing, and all Henry could do was sit in the discomfort that came from knowing he'd screwed up--let his jealousy get the best of him. 

He didn't mean to, but he had. And it unleashed her fury. 

"Is that what this is about? Are you for real?" She asked him at last, spitting out the words and folding her arms. "Let me tell you one thing. I don't have favourites. Yes, I try to take care of Jasper a little bit more than the rest of you, but do you know why that is?"

He glanced away and shook his head, at least having the decency to look ashamed, although he wasn't thrilled to hear her talk about him. "No."

"Because he has no one else. Just me, you, Charlotte, Piper, Schwoz, and Ray," (y/n) said, her tone deadly serious as she reached out to take his chin between her forefinger and thumb. 

If they were doing this, she'd make him listen and see reason, pulling the kid's face away from his lap and towards hers, keeping it there. If he wanted to squabble about who got her attention the most, she'd treat him like a child because that's what he acted like. 

The truth was far from his childish jealousy. Emotion flickered across her face as she spoke of an unmentionable open secret– the elephant in every room they'd ever been in because Jasper didn't like to talk about it. But still, everyone knew. 

"You know just as well as I do that his parents never gave a damn about him."

"Yeah..." Henry nodded solemnly. He'd never liked talking about it, either. As long as Jasper went over to his house, stayed away from the toxicity of his own, and thrived in school, it was easy to ignore. Or at least it was that way for him. 

"When we lived in the Man Cave, you got to go home to your mom and dad. They weren't perfect, but they loved you. Jasper, on the other hand..."

He closed his eyes at the reminder, wincing as he knew who she was talking about. There was only one person it could be. "His mom..."

"Didn't care where he was as long as she didn't have to lift a finger." (y/n) nodded, her lips set into a straight line as she nearly growled at the thought of that despicable woman. 

Fortunately for Jasper's mom, they'd never met – the only reason why (y/n) hadn't put her in a hospital and herself in a jail cell. 

The heroine was sure she would've slapped her every time Jasper came to her crying or asked for dinner because he'd had none. Too many times, he'd had to humiliate himself, politely asking if he could use their laundry room because his mother didn't wash clothes—but he promised not to cause trouble! 

He never had to ask again; (y/n) made sure of that. 

"I remember once I went up into Junk-N-Stuff. It must've been nearly midnight, and he kept saying he'd do one last chore before heading off. Really, he just didn't want to go home."

"So, what did you do?" Henry asked quietly, hanging onto every word of the story he'd never heard. He knew things were bad, but he never knew the extent. 

"I let him stay, of course," she answered instantly, not doubting her reply like she didn't doubt her response all those years ago. 

There was never any question for her that night; within half an hour, Jasper had his own room, a warm bed, and a promise. It was his for however long he needed it. 

"Ray likes to pretend Jasper annoys him, but the minute he found out what was going on, he never sent him home again. He stayed with us—with people who love him."

"That's why he was always first to work?"

"He never left." (y/n) smiled. She always remembered how her doofus complained about the lack of hot water in the morning, how Jasper left crumbs everywhere, and how he always walked in at the wrong moment, but those were good days. 

She dreaded to think what would've happened if they'd done the opposite. That was the bit Henry didn't understand – the side he never wanted to see because it made him uncomfortable. 

"It's not about favouritism, Hen. Jasper always needed a little bit of extra love. God knows he didn't get it at home."

"Never thought about it that way," the young hero muttered as shame swelled within him, and the heroine sighed. 

"Sounds like you haven't thought about anyone else at all," she said, knowing it had to be said, even if the sight of him sniffling made her feel rotten. But not nearly as rotten as he'd been. "I've raised a lot of kids. I know what you all need." 

Henry looked at her curiously, having never thought his friends needed so much care and attention. If anything, he saw everyone as pretty low maintenance. Yet, when (y/n) began to explain, her eyes turning fond and gentle, he supposed he didn't get it. After all, he never had to care the way she did.

"Piper needs friends. People who actually see who she is under all her Piperness. Charlotte needs confidence. She doesn't want people to think she's a know-it-all, but being the smartest person in the room isn't something to be ashamed of."

"And the others?"

Happiness spread across the woman's pretty features, practically glowing at the reminder of the four heroes she and Ray left back in Swellview. "They're doing all right on their own at the moment. We check in every week."

"And me?" He couldn't help but ask. Everyone else had a mention, including the ones who came after his lot. Curiosity won out, and (y/n) gave him a bemused smile. 

"You, Henry Hart?" She raised an eyebrow, seeing the anxiousness on his face—as if she'd ever say anything other than her adoration for him. "You're a brave, funny, kind, caring kid, but you're arrogant. It's always been your downfall."

The boy frowned at that, naturally rejecting any smear of his character, even if it came from someone who knew him best. "Can't I just have friend issues?"

She didn't look mad anymore, and at least that was something. A warm hand returned to his knee as she spoke, not unkindly but frankly. He needed to hear it. 

"You're likeable, Henry. So many people care about you. So many people want to be like you, and it's been that way since you were thirteen. It's gone to your head."

"...I'm not that bad," the kid replied moodily, but in the end, he gave a defeated shrug. "I just don't want to be always known as Captain Man's sidekick. I want to be me."

"Doesn't mean you have to do it all by yourself," (y/n) told him, thinking she was beginning to sound old and wise, but it got through to him. Henry placed his hand over hers, dropping his head on her shoulder as she continued, soaking up every word like a sponge. 

"It's all well and good pretending like you don't need anyone, but one day, you'll look around after cutting everyone out, and you'll realise there's no one left. The problem with being at the top is you're alone, and the only way to go is down."

He had no answer for that, letting out nothing more than a snuffle as he brushed another tear away, wishing he could stop snivelling like a baby. The last thing he ever wanted was to end up as some sad, lonely loser, always assuming people would stick by him no matter how many times he climbed over them. 

(y/n) pulled him closer, holding him tight as she wrapped an arm around him, keenly aware of how her foot had gone to sleep, but she could ignore that. 

"Jasper has always had your back, and now, he's come into his own," she whispered, stroking her fingertips through the boy's hair to soothe his little sobs. It always worked when he was younger, crying when a girlfriend dumped him or Mitch Bilsky said something too mean. 

"You would be an idiot to let that friendship go. You'd regret it."

"Did you?" Henry asked quietly, feeling his sister tense momentarily since the pain was still a little near. 

"Yeah. Every day after it happened," replied (y/n), swallowing thickly before smiling, water gathering on her eyelashes, too. It all worked out in the end, but what she wouldn't give to go back in time and do things differently... 

"She's doing all right now, but we hardly spoke for fifteen years. I'd hate to see the same thing happen to you."

He nodded thoughtfully and released the lip he'd been chewing on. As much as it wounded his pride to admit it, he knew what he needed to do – before it was too late. "Then, I should say sorry..."

"Yep." At last, a bright smile crossed (y/n)'s face. She turned and planted a gentle kiss against his dirty blond hair, prouder by that one admission than any death-defying rescue he could have performed, and Henry relished it. 

"And lose this dumb idea in your head that there's some competition going on. 'Cause there's not, okay? All my babies make me proud."

"Okay," he answered, nodding or nuzzling closer – the heroine couldn't tell. Still, she didn't mind, rubbing her cheek on his head as they sat on the dirty floor, hiding in a kitchen staffed by mercifully flaky cooks. 

It was a peaceful moment, and Henry felt happier than he had done in weeks, finally okay with being in the world around them. It still wasn't great; neither wanted to linger, but (y/n) knew how to make it better. She always did. "And you know what?"

"What?"

"I love you, Henry," she whispered, holding him in one of her snuggly hugs as the brave, funny, kind, caring, painfully arrogant but trying-to-do-better young hero hid his grin in her shoulder. 

His ears felt hot as he replied, grateful no one was around to see a twenty-three-year-old man hugging his older sister with a blissed-out expression. He'd never live it down, but he'd be damned if he didn't say it back. 

"...I love you, too, (y/n/n)." 

Yeah, he felt better now. 

Next Chapter

| TAGLIST |

@monsteryoungin

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

1: What is the starburst duo biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again.

2: You know how Older! Jon Kent took the title of Superman when Clark went to war world? Did Chris & Jake ever have to take their father's title of Superman & Nightwing?

3: If Jake & mar'i were in canon, when do you think they were born? Most likely right after their parents wedding :)

4: What is something the Starburst duo thinks they are good out but aren't?

5: What is something the Starburst duo is legitimately bad at?

1)

Chris: Leading Jake, Jasper and Lian on a small mission to bust what seems being a regular drug dealing (almost regular as the contraband content was replicated Fear Toxin) by Blockbsuter without properly checking to see who his business partner is and how much of their power they’ll need; this let them completely off guard when that business partner tuned up being Mongul, who proceeded to pounded them all brutally, nearly killing both Lian and Jake in the process. The deal was stopped but Chris has made himself a promise that for now on, he’ll always double check the intel for cases like this and make sure they’re still properly prepared for surprise attacks like this

Jake: Once letting his temper get the better of him when he encountered a bank robbing criminal he was searching for a good bit and always came up frustratingly short every time he has a lead on him. Once he finally had the crook cornered, he fail to notice the desperate and scared eyes of the crook and definitely not noticing they were outside the criminal’s house, revealing his wife and two children who no doubt were spooked by the green fury glowing eyes Jake had as he was pounding the desperate criminal to a near pulp. He eventually snapped out of it when the crook’s wife begged him to stop and Jake then looked around realizing he wasn’t beating up a major super villain but a man who only resorted to his criminal acts out of desperation further his family. Even since then, Jake has made it a considerable effort to try to temper and control himself against petty crooks and those who hadn’t committed the more grievous crimes.

2) I would say….maybe or maybe not. As grown ups, their mantles simply either grew up with them or they change into complete new ones as either their children and/or fixture apprentices take over the Skybird and Nightwing Phantom mantles. Maybe Jake can take over the Nightwing mantle his father has once Dick does retire though it’ll be a tall sell as Jake feels no one can truly be the same Nightwing Dick. As for Chris, the Superman mantle is evenly split by both Conner and Jon, Red and Blue respectively.

3) Oh for sure; Kory became pregnant with Mar’i about a few months after the wedding, likely her being conceived during the Honeymoon itself. Jake followed up a mere two years later. Oh in my version, they get married much sooner, around when Jason was Robin therefore Jake would’ve been about maybe 1-2 year when Jason was blown up by the Joker.

Bonus: for how Tim Drake can still be a teenager when Jake is ten; simple, he got hit by a de aging ray which not only tuned him back into a 14-16 year old but moreso allows him to age much slowly. Or at least if he ages normal, he still looks very young even as a teen…and small

4) Chris: Playing Soccer and Tennis. In both sports he keeps forgetting which way is his half of the court to defend and which one is to score points

Jake: Naming all the Star Wars characters from every show, tv series or animated show even if he’s otherwise good with memory. The problem lies with how many of them sometimes are background characters despite the lore behind them

5)

Chris: Learning how to use VR headsets. Those things are just confusing and where to go, how to move inside the game and what buttons to press while his hands are in motion

Jake: Much to his surprising delight, being able to hold in his laughter, cackles and giggles anytime his sensitive spots are even as so much as brushed softly or gently poked. It’s something both Dick and him have inherited from Mary Grayson, jokingly what’s referred to as a curse in their lineage, all because Mary’s father, Jake great grandfather, took a career as a dentist rather than as a mortician like the rest of that family line.

Thanak for the asks @pin-crusher2000 ! These are fun XD

[insipid-drivel]

I saw your horse post and it made me curious, because you touched on the specific skills needed and how long it takes to develop those skills and how horse temperament can affect ability and stuff. I’m really just curious, but here is a hypothetical for ya: someone who has never been on a horse before or maybe ridden once with help NEEDS to ride a horse for [insert some important, non-negotiable reason here]. The horse is relatively well tempered and has a saddle, stirrups, reins, etc. and the person is careful not to spook it. Can they ride this horse? What are some things a total beginner in this instance would need to know/do to be able to ride this horse? It can be badly ridden/totally unskilled/painful if they’re not used to it, i just want to know if it’s POSSIBLE and what it might be like. I’m a writer, so work with me a little here 😂 (i’m not even writing anything with horses right now, I’m really just curious lmao)

Okay, I love this question, and thank you for providing some specific examples! Let me do my best to break it down for ya based on situation:

Something to keep in mind is the era in which you're setting the scenes for the horses in. If you're talking modern times where horses are luxuries and not necessities? Privately-owned horses tend to only be comfortable with being ridden by people they've been acquainted with and are given guidance by handlers they trust that the new person is okay to get on the saddle. Most well-trained and good-natured horses, in situations with riders they don't recognize or aren't sure of, will usually default to the nearest person they already know and respect, and will accept a new rider if their Beloved Person indicates it's safe and okay. If they're alone, they're not likely to want to cooperate. It acts as its own form of insurance for keeping thieves from breaking into your barn or paddock and riding away with your very, very, VERY expensive horse. (Really though, the cost of keeping a horse is absolutely bananas and always has been; they are EXTREMELY high maintenance and resource-intensive).

So, say the horse this inexperienced rider is trying to get on is a good-natured horse that's used to carrying newbies and strangers. This isn't weird, because there have always been trainers that teach horses to tolerate skill levels of all ranges. Otherwise, kids wouldn't be able to learn to ride very easily during eras in history where horses were your only source of fast transport.

Firstly, horses can have a sense of "work hours". They're diurnal animals and usually prefer to sleep as soon as it gets dark, and wake up and expect to be fed and handled in the pre-dawn hours just before the sky starts to lighten, so they tend to be a lot more approachable and available during the day than if you try to approach at night.

Your character's first hurdle is "gentling" the horse, or convincing it that it's okay to relax enough to let your OC come near and handle them. Horses have nearly 360 degree vision, with their blind spots being directly in front of them and directly behind them. Approaching a horse at a slight angle head-on, slowly, and expressing gentle words and a calm, affectionate demeanor can help a strange horse relax faster, especially if your OC has something to give them as a treat, like an apple or fistful of oats.

(For your OC: Wherever horses are kept overnight, there will always be a food or grain store very near to where the horses are, if not within the same barn as the horses sleep in. The grain store is usually locked for the horses' safety, but if your OC can get in there and grab a fistful of oats or cracked corn, a horse is gonna be much more likely to wanna make friends)

Your OC should never, ever, ever come up behind a horse. Horses will kick anything and everything they perceive behind them as a potential annoyance or threat, including their owners and riders. If your OC has to get around the back end of a horse with no space to stay clear of the horse's kicking-range, they should either not risk it at all, or try to press the front of their body against the horse's hip and slowly hug their butt and scoot around to the side they need to be on. Then, if the horse kicks, your OC will more likely be pushed and knocked sideways instead of impacted with a fist made of solid Hobbit toenails.

Your would-be rider's next hurdle? Getting into the saddle. It looks easy to just step into a stirrup and throw your leg over, but it is actually an acquired skill and exercise (the kind of groin-pull you can give yourself from trying to get in the saddle will make you cry for days), and your character may need a boost using something like a box, stump, or step-stool to make getting on easier. After a while of practice, your muscles build up enough that most riders don't need a boost for long, but complete newbies tend to need an extra boost. Then, it's a matter of grabbing onto the saddle horn (at the top of the horse's shoulder blades in the middle of their back) and slinging one leg over the horse's back. A lot of people have an easier time using their dominant leg as the one they throw over the horse's back, with their non-dominant leg being the one on the boost or in the stirrup, while other people can benefit more from the opposite. It's up to you, really.

The hardest thing your OC is gonna deal with in the saddle is maintaining their center of gravity. Yes, the stirrups help a lot, but the more heavily they sit in the saddle, the rougher the ride becomes. If your OC has testicles, they're going to get badly thrashed if they don't sit with their pelvis rolled forward, so the widest, fattest part of their butt is what's resting on the saddle. If they have a vulva? Yeah, it'll still hurt, because straddling the horse and bouncing is going to cause the soft tissues of your OC's vulva to grind against the front of their pelvis. It hurts. I speak from experience on that one.

Figuring out how to make the horse go is the next challenge if your OC has never been around riders before. Most people are used to seeing a horse kicked into a gallop (where you thump their sides with your heels), but I guarantee your OC will be immediately flung off if they try to hold on to a galloping horse. You have to know how to move with the horse the faster it goes, or else you're just not going to stay on it. Generally, horses are taught to speed up with a gradual squeeze of the heels against their thighs, not a kick. A gentle squeeze, and often a clicking noise with the tongue, is usually enough for most horses to start walking forward.

Another tricky part is properly holding the horse's reins. The reins aren't just one strip of leather that you can pull left and right on to direct the horse; they're usually two leather strips, and a proper beginning holding position is where you make the two strips resemble an arch like a rainbow, where one strip is tighter than the other. Controlling a horse's head includes controlling how far its head is tilted up or down as well as left and right, and there are certain commands that can only be given in combination with certain motions with the reins that an inexperienced rider would never know about, much less how to use. However, it's not unreasonable for them to already know that, while squeezing/kicking with the legs means "go", pulling evenly and gently toward themselves with the reins can signal the horse to slow down or stop.

Your OC may manage to stay alright in the saddle with a trot (the next sped above a walk), but it's very bouncy, and they may fall backward or sideways and off the saddle as a result. Canters (3rd fastest) require even more muscle control than trots and even gallops (full speed), and I can say from my own experience that learning to canter was arguably harder than learning to gallop for me.

So... your OC isn't likely to have great control over the horse at anything faster than a walk, is likely to fall off if they don't have a good sense of their center of gravity, and if they aren't already in good shape? Will inevitably get exhausted from riding. Riding takes up a lot of muscle, and I still remember my legs giving out the first time I ever rode a horse and got off; it took so much control over my legs that I could barely walk after less than an hour of riding.

So, it's possible for a completely inexperienced rider to hop on a tacked-up horse and ride, but they're likely going to struggle a lot with their balance, keeping the horse relaxed, communicating with the horse, and, potentially, a lot of muscle soreness and weakness from a long time in the saddle for the very first time that can make it very hard for them to get to someone in a hurry if they can't ride the entire way to the [important plot point goes here].

I hope that helps!

[anacat195]

Some additional snapshots of my time with Palia so far.

- Hodari mentioning how Najuma’s mother had a fiery temper/hair. Me (a redhead): So what I’m hearing is you like redheads….

- A pro tip: you do not always need other people for flow trees. It’s polite to call them out, but sometimes it’s a super small tree and with the iron axe you can outpace the healing yourself. It will only give like 2-3 flow wood though.

- The devs mentioned a few times that you do not have to engage with all of the mechanics if you don’t want to and there are built in ways to work around requirements. I personally feel this is misleading because there is a main story quest that requires you to turn in rare fish/bugs/etc. And there are several skills you have to level up to be able to get those things. I am just now at the point where I can grow the bait needed to get those last rare fish. And at least from what I’ve seen on the requests you can only request items that you’ve already obtained once.

- Speaking of requests there is a quest that asks you to fulfill five player requests. Since so many people are joining and we’re all hitting these early quests, I try to use my request slots for easy things other players can give to meet that quest requirement. Just a thing to consider in the spirit of community playing.

- I love Kenyatta and Nai’o’s little fling they got going on. It’s cute. I had considered doing all of the romances just to see all the storylines, but I kind of don’t want to break them up. Maybe I’ll leave them alone until I’m in the mood to cause some drama.

- The furniture building is the most frustrating part for me so far. Chair is pictured with a cute cushion. Build it. No cushion. Bookcase is pictured filled with books and has little drawers on the bottom. Build it. No books, no drawers. 🤬 I’m losing my mind. I feel like I’m wasting resources building things because they don’t look like the picture.

- I do also sometimes find hunting frustrating but that’s because I like to set up my shot slowly more like a sniper and most people are running all over the map treating it like an fps game and spooking all the sernuks. I just try to move to the less traveled areas when that happens; it’s just a difference in play style. Though there was one person doing that who I swear followed me all over the Kilima map once.

- I am once again asking for romanceable Hodari. Let me open this man up to the terrifying vulnerability of loving someone again. It would even make in-game sense to lock it behind max friendship. I’d be fine with it! Hell, lock it behind max friendship with his daughter too. That’s how much I want it. (I also would not turn up my nose at an opportunity to romance Sifuu. I love a buff lady.)

[thatartiststudios]

Another fic update for y'all

The group settled around the table, the glow of the magical lamps casting an ambient light over the deck. After a hearty dinner and a moment of shared silence, they collectively decided it was time to address the unsettling events that had transpired.

Callum took a deep breath and began, “So, Rayla and I were in Xadia when something spooked our shadowpaw. We ended up tumbling off a cleft.”

Carter raised an eyebrow, noting the similarity, “That’s weirdly similar to how our gryphon, Freak, got startled, causing Sadie and me to fall out of the reed boat.” The eerie parallel didn’t escape anyone’s notice, and they exchanged thoughtful glances.

Rayla spoke up, “Are these events orchestrated, or is it just a strange coincidence?”

The conversation then shifted to The Collector’s cryptic words and the ominous threats made towards Leo. Piper voiced her concern, “He mentioned ‘His Champions.’ What does that even mean?”

Jason added, “And what about ‘The Game’? Why is it so specific about who enters?”

Callum leaned forward, his expression grave, “And Leo, what did he mean by ‘collateral damage’? We need to understand what we’re dealing with here.”

Just as Leo was about to speak, the holographic device, left unattended on the table, whirred to life. The Collector’s image materialized, shorter this time due to the device being on the table instead of the deck.

Sadie’s temper flared as she addressed the holographic image of The Collector, “Is this just some sick game to you?”

The Collector chuckled, “Oh, was it too much for you? I thought it was wonderful!”

Sadie’s eyes narrowed, “Wonderful?”

The Collector continued, seemingly unfazed, “Yes, I’ve always been one for dramatic flair. But, anyway, you’re ready for your next clue, are you not? ‘A Colossus of past entertainment’ in Rome. I wish you good luck!”

The hologram flickered off, leaving the group in an uneasy silence. The hologram flickered, and The Collector disappeared. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the encounter sinking in. Leo was the first to break the silence.

“That dude gives me the creeps,” Leo muttered, his eyes fixated on the dormant hologram device.

Piper frowned, “A Colossus of past entertainment in Rome? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rayla shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never heard of Rome, let alone been there.”

Carter leaned back, his expression contemplative, “Maybe The Colosseum?”

Piper nodded slowly, “That sounds like it’d fit the bill.”

Callum sighed, “I just hope it doesn’t involve more illusions. That was... unsettling.”

Sadie nodded, still fuming a bit from their encounter with The Collector, “Agreed. Let’s be prepared for anything, though. This ‘Game’ of his seems to have a twisted sense of entertainment.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Rayla started, “but didn’t he say that we would all have to face a past trial in each of our places? I think that means that this won’t be the last time you use that spell during this.”

Callum winced, realizing she was right, “Yeah, forgot about that.”

Jason, who had been quiet for most of the discussion, finally spoke up, “And what about Leo? The Collector made it clear that he’s not part of the chosen Champions. What does that mean for him?”

Leo scratched his head, “I’m just here to fly the ship, man. I didn’t sign up for any Champion business.”

Callum looked at Leo sympathetically, “He mentioned something about The Game not liking it when others enter. We should be careful.”

Piper glanced at the hologram device, “And what if we decide not to play this Game of his?”

The device flickered, and The Collector’s voice echoed, “You can try, but remember, there are consequences for defying the rules. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Sadie muttered under her breath, “Consequences my foot.”

With a collective sigh, they realized they were in too deep. The hologram device remained silent, its eerie glow a constant reminder of the challenges they faced.

The heroes dispersed, heading to their rooms to rest before their next destination. Callum and Rayla strolled side by side, the ship’s gentle rocking beneath them.

“Hey, you’ll be okay with traveling over water, right?” Callum asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Rayla smiled softly, “Callum, it’s not like I haven’t been on a boat before. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Callum nodded, “I know, but I just want to make sure. If you need anything, just tell me, alright?”

Rayla rolled her eyes playfully, “I’m not helpless, you know. But, sure, I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Callum grinned, “Good enough for me. But, you know I’ll worry anyway.”

Rayla chuckled, “Stubborn mage. Fine, worry all you want.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Callum.”

“Good night, Rayla,” Callum replied, a warm smile on his face as they headed to their respective rooms. The Argo II continued its journey, sailing across the night-shrouded sea toward Rome, and the looming challenge that awaited them in The Colosseum.

—

The next morning unfolded in a rather uneventful manner, with the team casually mingling on deck and deepening their camaraderie. This continued until Jason, positioned at the top of the steps leading to the stern, noticed a peculiar sight in the distance.

“Hey, guys?” Jason gestured towards a growing speck on the horizon, “I think we’re being followed.”

Piper joined him, squinting to get a better view of the approaching vessel. “That doesn’t look like any ship we’ve seen around here. What do you think?”

Jason shook his head, “Definitely not a Greek or Roman warship. And it doesn’t fit the profile of a modern ship either.”

“Nor does it resemble any Egyptian vessels,” added Carter, who had joined them at the back railing, squinting as the ship approached, “It’s not like anything we’re accustomed to.”

The mysterious ship cut through the waves, its tattered sails appearing to function despite extensive damage. An eerie fog enveloped its deck, obscuring any sight of the crew.

“It’s not sitting well with me,” admitted Rayla, her unease palpable, “Something feels off.”

Leo, ever mischievous, eyed approaching rock formations with a grin, “Let’s try some evasive maneuvers. Maybe we can lose our uninvited guests.”

Leo expertly guided the Argo II through intricate maneuvers, attempting to shake off the pursuing ship. However, the ghostly vessel remained relentless, undeterred by Leo’s skillful navigation.

As the ship continued its pursuit, the agile movements of the Argo II jostled its passengers. Sadie, recovering from a slide into the railing, winced at the pain in her side. Rayla, struggling with seasickness, sought support from Callum.

“Is all this moving really necessary?” Rayla asked, her voice queasy.

Despite Leo’s evasive actions, the ghostly ship persisted, a haunting specter on the horizon, steadily closing the gap between them.

After a moment of thought, a spell came to Callum’s mind.

“Hey, Leo, you think you could steady the ship? I have an idea.”

Leo halted their maneuvers, responding to Callum’s request. As he released Rayla, Callum stood, clutching his staff with determination. He drew a swirling blue rune in the air and uttered, “Lapis Caeli,” inhaling a massive gust of air from the pursuing ship like a vacuum.

With a swift closure of his mouth, he ended the spell, sending a shockwave of air echoing from his staff. The sails of the ghost ship rippled once before freezing in stillness, bringing it to an abrupt stop.

Exhaling sharply as a thick wisp of air exited from his mouth, Callum collapsed, his staff slipping from his grasp. Rayla moved swiftly, catching him as he slumped back. Kneeling beside him, she braced his back, his arm around her shoulder as Callum took quick and worryingly shallow breaths. Rayla placed her free hand on Callum’s chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart. The others exchanged worried glances, not that Rayla noticed, Callum being her sole center of attention and concern.

Piper, breaking the silence, voiced the question on everyone’s mind, “Is… he going to be okay?”

Rayla, with a confidence that seemed more for herself than the others, responded, “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

Leo, scratching his head, looked at the now still ship, gradually fading from view. “I… I don’t understand. What did he do?” Puzzled, he turned his gaze back to Rayla and Callum. As Callum’s breathing slowed to a more manageable rate, Rayla explained with evident concern, “He took their wind away.”

The others glanced at each other in astonishment as they realized the true extent of what Callum had done. As the tension lifted, Callum’s breathing gradually slowed, and with Rayla’s support, he managed to stand. His eyes opened, the first question on his lips directed at Rayla, “Did it work?”

Rayla, her hand drifting from his chest to his face, couldn’t help but scoff. The onlookers wisely chose to give them some space.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” she retorted.

Callum pressed on, “Well?”

“Yes, dumb mage, it worked, but that’s not my point,” Rayla replied, her voice soft but carrying an underlying concern. As Callum looked into her eyes, he sensed that the fear for him hadn’t fully dissipated.

“I’m sorry, I worried you,” he admitted, releasing his arm from around her to hold both of her hands.

Rayla’s response was equally soft, “It hurts me to see you like that.”

Callum gently rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t do anything like that for the rest of this. I promise you, Ray. I-” His words were interrupted by her lips on his.

When she pulled away, she said, “We always catch each other, don’t we?”

Callum smiled at her, “Yeah, we do.”

—

Rayla found herself on the dark and foreboding deck of Sea Legs, the cursed ship that bore witness to the trials and tribulations of their journey to find Aaravos’s prison. The air was thick with tension, reminiscent of the haunting memories that clung to every plank of the vessel. In her dream, she had successfully picked the lock on her cuffs, a fleeting sense of triumph giving her courage.

Armed with two stolen spears, Rayla prepared to confront Finnegrin. The malevolent elf captain stood before her, his presence emanating a sinister aura that sent shivers down her spine. As she lunged at him, determination etched on her face, he anticipated her every move with an eerie precision.

Finnegrin swiftly drew a mysterious rune in the air, uttering an incantation that echoed through the night, “Veinus Frigardis.”

A cold, blue wave crawled across Rayla’s skin, and her blood turned to an unnatural chill in her veins. The once triumphant spirit of rebellion now screamed in searing pain, dropping the stolen weapons as her body convulsed on the unforgiving deck.

But the nightmare took a sinister turn. Where she expected Callum’s reassuring presence, there was only an eerie silence. The anguish in his eyes, the warmth of his touch—absent. Rayla writhed in pain, her pleas for rescue echoing unheard in the hollow night.

As the spell tightened its grip, she awoke with a gasp, the phantom pain still lingering. The dream had left her breathless, a chilling reminder of the trials they had faced, and a harbinger of the darkness that continued to shadow their every step.

—

Callum jolted awake at the sound of Rayla’s distressed voice echoing through the ship. Worry etched across his face, he hurriedly made his way to her room, driven by the urgency of her call.

“Rayla! What’s wrong?” Callum burst into her room, finding her tangled in the remnants of her nightmare. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

“Did... did I say something?” she asked, slightly confused.

“You called out my name. I was worried,” Callum reassured her, his voice a soothing balm.

Rayla’s eyes widened with embarrassment, “Oh no, I didn’t wake anyone else, did I?”

Callum gently stroked her back, “Shh, don’t worry about it. I just told them you had nightmares, and they understood.”

“But-” Rayla attempted to voice her worry, yet Callum shushed her gently once more.

“Just breathe, Ray. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” It was only then that Rayla realized she had been crying. She buried her face in the crook of Callum’s neck, in the soft knit of his scarf, clutching the back of his jacket as if he might vanish from her grip at any moment.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, A mhuirnín.” he repeated, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of her emotions, “I’m always here.” In the cocoon of his comforting presence, the remnants of the nightmare began to fade, replaced by the reassurance that she was not alone in facing the shadows that haunted her dreams.

After a few moments of soothing, Callum gently pulled back enough to look at Rayla’s face. Concern filled his eyes as he asked, “What was your dream about?”

Rayla’s words faltered as she began to describe the haunting vision that had gripped her during sleep, reaching its peak with his unexpected absence.

As she spoke, Callum’s eyes widened, and a pained expression crossed his face. Without hesitation, he put his forehead against hers, a silent reassurance that he was there and would always be there for her. Rayla felt the warmth of his presence and the steady beat of his heart against her own, grounding her in the reality that the nightmare was just a fleeting shadow in the night.

“I’m here, Rayla,” Callum whispered, his voice a gentle murmur. “I won’t leave you, not in dreams or in reality. You’re not alone.” The intimacy of their connection lingered in the quiet room, a shared understanding that transcended words.

And that wraps up Chapter 5! Stay tuned for Chapter 6!

[goldenguillotines]

💐 🌋 🙈 🪤 ⏳ 📎 🌈 ☄️ 💘 astrah :)

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

lotus flower or water lilies... Iris sibirica, delphinium, narcissus, palm tree, papyrus and rose..

Mainly the reason why he'd find some major interest in flowers is because they were his papa's favorites. Though he seems to like delphinium the most.. (Hehehe.. means big hearted..)

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

Astrah isn't someone who gets angry to often, it's an incredibly slow boil till he does maybe raise his voice or get a bit angry. He doesn't find being explosive constructive..

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Probably that he's a little more insecure than he let's on. He's got some sore spots about certain topics that he swallows down the reactions to..

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

Family and friends being in danger. He will immediately spring to action. He doesn't care if a building is on fire and actively coming down, he will try his best and hardest to save someone he's close to. It's not as if he wouldn't help a stranger but the lengths he would go to would perhaps be more reasonable than what he would do for people hes closer to.

⏳ HOURGLASS - are they usually late or on-time?

To most of everything? Early or on time..

To trying out some of tres les jours popular items? Always just too late..

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

Astrah can go out in the sun.. he seems to spook off undead or they avoid him like the plague.

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

That things will work themselves out.. and he shouldn't be scared of voicing how he feels.. Even if it's hard..

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

That he's a pushover or shy from how he talks. He's rather outgoing and while he can be a bit insecure or self conscious.. he doesn't let people walk over him.

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

Someone with a good heart and soul. Not that they have to be perfect or innocent or whatever. That they're leading the best life they can and aren't trying to make others around them miserable for the fun of it or because they can. He likes when others spread positivity.. He does the same!

[pixelizedprince]

Turn on anon

43 cause we haven't discussed it

46

47 :3c

TWENTY TWO

43. Is Rook the type to gossip?

Bishop /LOVES/ to hear a little rumor/stir the pot. His mom was the village washerwoman & when he was a real little kid he would sit with her while she worked and listen to all the folks that would come to chit-chat with her. Ever since then he loves to know what’s going on/who’s who. When his trio of Lords (Bishop, Florin, Eleni) were working he’d wiggle his way to find out gossip for blackmail, but anymore it’s more a people watching for the fun of it/gossiping with the gaggle of children he now has at the Lighthouse/less malicious intent

46. What does Rook think of being the leader of the Veilguard? (SPOIL Qs)

Bishop honestly? Not a fan of it. He doesn't want any of these kids to bear the weight of it though so he tries to do his best. He feels under-qualified and can admit that he is maybe a tad too reckless/reacts without thinking (punching the 1st W anyone?) to be a /good/ leader but gods does he try so hard to make things better/make sure everyone else stays safe, even if he isn't. 

47. What’s Rook’s temper like?

Bishop used to be incredibly hot headed growing up/into his twenties, was incredibly bitter and angry through his thirties/forties, and has only recently started to mellow out into not immediately flying off the handle. He used to be an easy target to get to fall for McFly chicken type goading. His sister Eleni was the one who would call him out on it/get him to back down, she was often his voice of reason. Since her passing his anger has truly just translated to deep sadness so, anger management win? :(

22. Most embarrassing memory as a teenager:

Oh boy. See previous: was easy to goad on & get mad. Definitely got his ass into stupid dare situations to prove how fearless/cool he was - once while poking around a cave on the beach with a group of teens to show how cool he was he went to snag a hat off a skeleton to impress them - he got spooked when his foot fall shifted the sand and moved said skeleton (he thought it was possessed, it was not), slipped on a wet rock and shattered his right elbow - he wasn’t suppose to be fucking around in the caves and lied to his parents saying he broke it arm wrestling - literally the worst lie of all time it was double stupid and in double the amount of trouble - to this day he has a big ass scar on his right elbow 

I have to lay down from second hand embarrassment now lmfao

[keefiswhoiam]

August 05 - 2024 Monday

11:15pm

5.5/10

I was really productive today and tried to stay focused on whatever task was at hand. I made it a point not to rush either, I'd take my time with everyone knowing I would get it done in a reasonable time which was a big deal because I'm always moving quickly and feel stressed about things. Today's topic was defusion too so I kept telling myself out loud the thoughts that would appear in my head so I could take note of it and keep doing what I was doing.

I cleaned my bed today and moved it back out to cut the room in half like I had it before. I think it makes the room feel a lot nicer that way. I also found a simple and satisfying way to tuck all 3 blankets under the mattress on one side so it stays secure. And this time I let the sheet blanket drape on one side with the deer design on it showing.

My sister's poorly trained dog got out of his kennel and got into some cans today which really pissed me off. He's done this a bunch of times before but he always get into the garbage and spreads it everywhere. I dont know what my parents do about it, nothing apparently since he isn't deterred to fuck everything up. It's not my job to punish him but I did yell at him and maybe went a little overboard posturing at him and trying to spook him with a hat I picked up. I lost my temper a bit and I'm not proud of it, but I didn't hurt him. I did slam my hand down onto a big wooden dresser and gave myself a little welt though. My punishment towards him was not effective, I know that. He was mostly just growling at me.

I had a hard time caring about the first commission I finished this morning. I feel bad because I want to be someone that cares about what my customers want, even if I don't care for the subject matter. But I still think I should be able to feel a level of importance doing it for them and that in tern would help me ensure a higher quality. Sometimes its just not there though.

Costar was kinda of accurate today, it suggests alone time and boundaries. I definitely think I need some alone time, I think I've been spreading myself thin like always and I need to build myself back up to keep going. Its just another case of learning how to take care of myself.

I was kinda looking forward to playing Starfield all day but I didn't get the proper time for it. I still had fun though, this evening DS and I perused some content and played Dress to Impress and she read Monster High in bed. It was a good night. I even did squeeze a tiny bit of Starfield in learning how to set up a base while I popped into BR's server where they were watching the old Twister movie.

PZ has lowkey been ghosting me and I'm not sure I'm actually going to get his world done for him. It's such a shame because I've been meaning to do it for a long time and finally got around to it, largely as an act of kindness. But he's really bad at reciprocating literally anything and is probably the worst person I've ever met to stick to any kind of plan. I don't really know what to do about this aside from continuing to bug him. Maybe I should try attending events and talking with him there, it would be nice if we actually hung out but again, I can't because he is so unreliable.

[gunmetalgrey]

Continued from here @coveitous

Passing off a cigarette, leaning on the bricks, flirting like teenagers. So childish and yet so full of regret that came from a life misspent. It was probably a blessing in disguise that Temperance and Alex hadn’t been at school together- the building would be nothing but scorched earth by now.

“Good. Don’t like it when people get too comfy.” Her ears pricked at the mention of Dakota. Not out of any form of jealousy, but out of concern. She knew that wasn’t always so easy. Not that Tem would ever settle for easy. “I’ve got a couple weeks before I have the next thing lined up so maybe I can keep you busy. Might actually need some help on this one. Don’t tell the spooks though. Trev will just worry.”

Never mind the fact what she was doing was very much not legal. If Victor needed to know, then he would.