#awkward canter

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Clown to Equine communication failed; They are separate species.

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#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #season 1 #bonus comic #wei wuxian #little apple #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #This bonus comic is for all my fellow little apple lovers #she doesn't show up for quite a while after this so I need to wring out every bit of screen time for her #That's what feminism is about. Equine visibility. #Women need to remain mysterious + unknowable + untethered by rules #Women need to canter across the plains and sleep standing up #Women need to be hand fed apple slices 4 times a day #joking aside I do love the co-chaos of lil apple and wwx #though the new duo dynamic that follows (with LWJ and WWX getting way more time together) its *obviously* iconic #god...to be two cultivation partners following directions from a severed arm... #anyhow. I think this might be one of the jokes that is only funny to me #my realism studies are still in that uncanny/awkward phase but I love the 'detailed version of a very stylized character' visual gag a lot #Taps my blog name again. Don't forget the name on the tin #oh wait lwj should be in this scene too...let's retcon it and say he's bending down to pet his bunnies goodbye

[tightjeansjavi]

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟞

Curry Combs & Water Fights

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre!outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

~word count: 3.8k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, horny!awkward!Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, feeling flustered, sexual tension, brief horny thoughts, bantering, teasing, no use of (y/n), (+18) minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

The next time you saw Joel Miller was early Saturday morning for Sarah’s next horsemanship lesson. More-so, Joel saw you before you saw him. This was the first time he and Sarah actually saw you horseback riding. You were quietly trotting alongside the rail on Ezra. Joel could hear you softly talking to your horse as you lightly wiggled the reins between your fingers so that Ezra would lower his head. You were working on keeping him collected so his topline was properly getting worked. Just like when going to the gym, you target specific muscles to strengthen. The same was for when you exercise horses under the saddle. Joel of course didn’t know much about riding, let alone properly exercising horses, but he could tell by how willingly Ezra responded to you that he was enjoying doing his job. Not only were your hands quiet, but your seat was as well.

Joel unashamedly couldn’t help but watch the way your ass would rise and fall as you posted the trot. Your thighs were strong, this was apparent. Plus, you were wearing the tightest pair of riding pants that this man had ever seen in his life. Did you really also need to be wearing a tight tank top as well? Jesus Christ, it was white as well. Dangerous thing to be wearing while working a job where you would evidently be getting dirty.

You hadn’t noticed your Texas tall glass of water just yet. Your attention was solely focused on Ezra beneath you. As you were turning the corner, wiggling the reins between your fingers once more, Ezra let out a soft snort as he dropped his head. You rewarded him with a good pat on the side of his neck as you exhaled and he slowed his gait to a light walk. “We’ll finish out with a canter..and maybe a gallop if you’re good?” You spoke softly to him, reaching over his neck to scratch behind his ears. You looked up at the opportune moment to see Joel, and Sarah on the other side of the arena gate.

A smile spread across your features as you waved. “Hey! I didn’t even hear you guys come in. Sorry for the delay, I wanted to get Ezra exercised a little before it gets too hot out.” You brought your horse to a halt at the gate and he leaned his neck down over the side so Sarah could give him a nice pet.

“Sorry if we’re a bit early. Y’know Sarah just practically yanked me out of bed this mornin’, disturbed my beauty sleep and everythin’ ain’t that right kiddo?” He was holding yet another vanilla soy latte in his grip. This time it was iced because he figured it would be nice and refreshing against the sweltering Texas heat.

Sarah let out a soft giggle as she reached her hand up and gently pet Ezra’s velvet soft nose. “Uh huh. Sureee dad. That’s exactly how this morning went.” She looked over at him and stuck her tongue out playfully.

“Another latte? Joel..I’m gonna have to start paying you back for those.”

“Oh no no. You will be doin’ no such thing. It’s just a latte. Only costs me a few bucks and I uh—I don’t mind doin’ it.” He cleared his throat, shifting his weight on either foot.

“Alright, fine but next time I’m going to get you something, alright?”

“Oh no—darlin’ you don’t have to do that.”

“I insist.” You spoke with a soft grin as you gently pulled Ezra’s head back over onto the inside of the arena. “Pick your poison and I’ll have it ready for you at Sarah’s next lesson. Deal?”

“Oh well I’m a simple man darlin.’ I ain’t into any of that fancy crap. Just like a good old black coffee. No cream or nothin’”

“Ohh so you’re one of those coffee drinkers?” You spoke teasingly as you eased Ezra back into a trot. “Black coffee it is.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You know what the lady in front of me ordered today? It was completely frufu. Y’know, I ain’t even think there was any coffee in her concoction. Just a whole lotta syrup and milk.”

“You gotta live your life on the dangerous side every now and then Joel!” You glanced back at him as you rode along the rail. He swore under his breath that you definitely winked at him, but then again, it could just be the heat frying his brain.

“Alright, darlin’. I’ll try your vanilla latte next time. Does that make me normal now?”

“Just a little, Miller.” You shortened your reins up slightly as you eased Ezra into a collected canter. You held the reins lightly in one hand while your freehand rested along the outside of your thigh.

“Woaaaah! Dad! Did you see that? She’s riding with one hand! That’s so cool!”

“I think she’s just tryin’ to show off a little for us kiddo. Whad’ya think?” He leaned down and whispered to her.

“Pssh. I think she’s just trying to show off for you.” Sarah responded with a light giggle.

“Don’t be so silly, sweet pea. Doubt she’s doin’ that for me.”

Sarah fought the urge to roll her eyes at her dad as she looked over her shoulder at him and gave him the, ‘sureeee’ look.

You cantered Ezra around the arena a few times, focusing on keeping his head collected and your leg lightly applying pressure every now and then. Once you were satisfied, and Ezra worked up a good sweat, you slowed him down to a cool down walk. You let the reins rest along the front of the saddle as you dropped your stirrups and stretched your legs out. “How do we feel about doing a bit of grooming today? I was going to have you work with Frankie in the round pen but it’s getting a little too hot, and we’re gonna turn them all out after I’m done with Ez here.”

“Oh like brushing him down and stuff? Yeah! I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that!” Sarah spoke with excitement laced in her tone

“Perfect! I’m gonna let him cool down and then we’ll get him groomed and hosed down. You don’t mind getting a little wet, right kiddo?”

“Me? Nah! We’re gonna give him a bath too?”

“Yep! He’s the best one when it comes to baths as well. He loves it!”

Shit shit shit. Was all that came to Joel’s mind when he realized that giving Ezra a bath meant that you were definitely going to be getting wet. No, not like that, you freaks. Although..he was certain that tight tank top you were wearing would certainly become see-through at some point. Really, Joel? That’s all you can think about right now? Get your head out of the gutter right now. Keep this shit up man and you ain’t gonna survive.

Once Ezra was fully cooled down, you hopped out of the saddle. You gave your horse some well deserved pets, scratches and all the kisses. You decided to untack him inside the arena, setting his bridle and saddle down along the fence while Ezra followed you around.

“You guys uh—really have a strong bond huh? That’s really cool..I mean genuinely it is. Do most people bond with horses like that?”

You looked up at Joel with a soft smile as Ezra nudged your shoulder with his nose. “I think everyone has the capability to bond with a horse like this. It takes a lot of patience and dedication. We both have an intense trust for each other. Not to be a total cheese ball or anything, but I’d die for this horse. No questions asked.” You spoke while slipping his halter over his ears and led him out of the arena.

“They have an extremely good judgment of character too, don’t they?”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s incredible how much they can really pick up on human emotion. Ezra wouldn’t let you get within a foot of me if he thought you were a bad person Joel.”

He nodded as he wrapped his arm around Sarah’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Well, he’s a cool horse and I’m glad he approves of me.”

“Me too.” You genuinely meant it.

After leading Ezra down the aisle, you attached the crosstie clips to either side of his halter before grabbing the grooming box. “So, normally we would do a full brush down after a ride but considering he’s pretty sweaty, we just wanna lift up as much of the dirt as we can.”

You pulled out a rubber curry comb from the box. “Sarah, I’m sure you know what this brush is called, right kiddo?”

“That’s a curry comb! It’s used to lift up the dirt from their coats, right? The other two brushes are used to brush the dirt out.”

“Bingo. So we wanna use this in circular motions all over his coat. You don’t have to worry about being super gentle either. Think of it like you’re giving him a little massage.” You handed her the curry comb before bending down and grabbed two more. One for yourself, and one for Joel.

Circular motions. Okay, that’s enough. She’s talking about brushing the horse, you goon.

Sarah jumped right in to using the curry comb along Ezra’s right side. This was your perfect opportunity to show Joel how to properly groom. “You don’t mind getting a little dirty, do ya?” You asked as you stood alongside him on the other side of Ezra.

Joel nearly choked momentarily as he looked over at you and shook his head. “Uh-no, not in particular. So we’re giving him a massage in a sense?”

“Yeah. Just wanna lift as much dirt from his coat as we can. It’s pretty simple, I promise you that.” You didn’t hesitate to grab his hand that was holding the curry comb and place it on Ezra’s withers, rubbing the bristles of the comb in circular motions into his fur.

So does this mean that you—never mind.

Joel cleared his throat the second your hand grabbed his and he could feel the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. “Yeah, pretty simple. You’re right about that darlin’.” He spoke above a whisper, glancing over at you.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence as you massaged out most of the dirt from Ezra’s fur. Afterwards, you showed Sarah how to properly pick out the rocks and dirt from his hooves with a hoof pick. Joel looked over your shoulder in pure fascination as you described the different parts of a horse's hoof.

Sarah knew all of them of course.

After the dry part of the grooming was completed, you unclipped Ezra from the cross ties and led him outside to the outdoor wash stall to hose him off.

You left Joel and Sarah with Ezra while you ran into the tack room to grab a bucket and horse shampoo.

Sarah was gently petting Ezra’s face while he nudged against her hand, surely looking for treats. “So, are you gonna ask her out already or do I need to push you to do it?”

Joel leaned against the wash rack fence with his arms across his chest. His daughter was quick to pick up on things that was forsure. “Wh—what are you goin’ on about kiddo?”

“Dad. Don’t play stupid with me. I already knew you had a crush on her, remember? So just ask her out already because you guys have practically been flirting this entire time.” She looked over at him with a knowing grin.

“Sarah, sweet pea it ain’t like—”

“Well..uncle Tommy did tell me that you fell asleep at the barn with her last weekend. He’s waiting for you to ask her out already too.”

“Uncle Tommy told you that? Of course my brother did. He’s got a big mouth, that's for sure.” He scrubbed a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

“You’re way overthinking this dad. You like her, and she obviously likes your ugly mug for whatever reason.” She said with a soft giggle.

“Hey! I do not have an ugly mug baby girl, you take that back right now!” His tone came across as being playfully stern but he definitely was offended that his kid was saying something like that to him.

“I’ll take it back if you ask her out today. If you wait any longer, you’re gonna miss the opportunity!”

“Kiddo, it ain’t that easy to just—”

“Dad. Do I need to spell it out for you? What’s holding you back? Besides, I like her. She’s super cool and sooo pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty dad.”

“Cause relationships are complicated as it is kiddo. They ain’t easy, and it’s been so long since..” He trailed off.

Sarah let out a sigh as she walked over to her dad and gave him a big hug, resting her cheek against his chest as he hugged her tightly to him. “Since mom left us. Dad, I know but you can’t let that hold you back from something like this. You deserve to be happy too.”

“Where the hell did you learn to be so wise, huh? They teachin’ you this stuff in school or somethin’?” He kissed the top of her head, smoothing down her curls gently.

“Nah. I just happen to have a really cool dad that has taught me how to express my emotions. So I’m letting him know that he needs to do the same.”

“I swear to god if you make me cry right now—” he hugged her tighter as he closed his eyes briefly. He loved his daughter so much and she was truly his blessing. Maybe Sarah was right, maybe you could be good for him. How would he ever know if he didn’t take the risk and try?

“So does this mean you’re gonna ask her out?”

“Yeah, sweet pea. I will.”

Sarah looked up at her dad with a big grin before she gave him a little fist bump just as you returned with the bucket and horse shampoo.

“You guys ready to get him hosed down and turned out?” You turned the hose on, spraying it off to the side and adjusted the temperature. “Hey Joel? If you don’t wanna get wet, I suggest you stand on my side. Otherwise you’re definitely going to get sprayed.

“I don’t think a little water is gonna kill me darlin’”

“Suit yourself!”

You started spraying down Ezra and when Joel didn’t move out of the spray of the stream, you purposely sprayed him a little with a soft giggle.

“Hey! You doin’ that on purpose?” He laughed as he stepped around the front of Ezra.

“Noooo! Not at all, you were just in the range of the hose.” You looked over at him with a grin. “Hey, Sarah? You wanna start lathering him up with shampoo? A little goes a long way.”

“You got it!” Sarah grabbed the bottle of horse shampoo and poured a bit onto Ezra and stood up on her tippy toes so she could reach his withers. She hummed happily as she worked the shampoo into his fur.

You filled the bucket up with a bit of water then and dunked a clean rag into it, ringing some of the water out before you gently began to wipe Ezra’s face. You shouldn’t have turned your back on Joel because soon enough, he was picking up the hose and spraying you with it.

“HEY! Come on man! You’re doing this on purpose!” You tossed the rag back into the bucket before you faced Joel and immediately tried to grab the hose from him with a laugh.

“It’s only fair that I spray you too darlin’!” He chuckled, keeping his grip on the hose firm, but loose enough that you could still grab it.

Soon enough, the two of you were having a full on water fight. Your clothes were being soaked through as you tried to shield yourself from the spray. “Joel! That’s enough!” You laughed, placing your hands over his as you tried to grab the hose.

Sarah and Ezra were watching the two of you frolic with the hose and Sarah was covered in a mix of soap and water as well as she stroked the side of Ezra’s neck. “My dad is gonna ask your mom out. You cool with that fella?”

Ezra nickered in response, rubbing his face against her shoulder. He was definitely rubbing his eye crusties into her shirt.

“Hey, You goober! You’re all wet!” She giggled, giving him a little side hug. Ezra dropped his head over her shoulder, as if he was giving her a hug back.

“Do you yield darlin’?” Joel asked while your hands were still over his, trying to pry his fingers from the hose.

“Never!”

“Had a feelin’ you were gonna say that.” Joel was trying to not focus on the fact that your tight tank top was most definitely see through now. He could make out the outline of your bra and—

The moment you saw that this man was distracted, you ripped the hose from his grasp and turned it on him. You soaked him to the bone while he yelled for you to give him mercy. You were both in hysterics at this point. Holding your stomachs as you bent over and laughed

“Are you guys done with your water fight now?” Sarah asked with her arms crossed as she leaned against Ezra.

Joel was ringing out his t-shirt and shaking out his hair a bit when you turned the hose back onto Ezra. “Yeah well..she started it!”

“I also finished it.” You confirmed with a grin as you finished spraying washing out the soap from Ezra’s fur. Once he was fully washed, you grabbed a rubber squeegee, sliding it over his fur to extract most of the water.

Sarah gave her dad the ‘look’ to go and ask you out already. She could tell that the nerves were starting to get to her dad but she didn’t want him to chicken out. Sarah walked over to him, giving him a little nudge in your direction as you were wiping down Ezra’s face with a towel.

“Hey uh—hey darlin’?”

You were humming quietly to yourself as you gently wiped Ezra’s face, giving him a quick kiss on his velvety nose, in your own little world now.

“Darlin’?” He asked again, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Maybe this was too soon. Maybe you both were just supposed to flirt a little and nothing would come of it. This was stupid, he thought.

“Hm? What’s up Joel?” You looked over at him, tucking the rag into the belt loop of your pants as you stroked Ezra’s soft forehead.

“So I was uh—I was thinkin’ and I’m hopin’ it ain’t too soon or anythin’, but uh—would you maybe want to—”

“Yes.” You responded before he even had a chance to finish asking you.

Joel was frozen on the spot, stumbling over his words right now as his face turned red. “Wouldyoumaybewanttogooutonadatewithme?” His words were strung together into one jumbled sentence.

“Yes, Joel. I’d love to go out on a date with you. Just to be clear, you’re not just asking me out because my shirt is see through..right cowboy?”

“Really? You’ll go out with me? Phew. I don’t know why I was gettin’ so nervous to ask you. I just uh—our last conversation in my truck I wasn’t sure if you were bein’ serious or not. I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries or anythin’—”

“Joel, Breathe. I was already going to say yes before you finished. If you weren’t gonna ask me out, I would have beaten you to it.”

“I’m not askin’ you out cause your shirt is see through. Uh—not that I was lookin’ or anythin’ like that.”

“I know, I’m just teasing you.”

“So..when are you free? I know you got the bartending thing goin’ for ya as well so whatever day works for you?”

“How about Friday night? I have the evening off.”

“Friday night? Perfect. I’ll pick you up at let’s say..6:30?”

“Works for me. Oh and Joel? I’m still expecting our little phone dates to continue happening as well. They’re honestly becoming a part of my morning routine.”

“Are you trying to make me blush or somethin’? Can’t go sayin’ that shit to a man like that darlin.’” He chuckled.

“I’m serious! It really brightens my morning.”

“Okay! You guys are officially gross!” Sarah chimed in with a laugh.

“Gross? This ain’t gross at all, sweet pea.”

“Yeah, yeah okay whatever you say!”

Joel went to pull her in for a sopping wet hug but Sarah was quicker than that and she just slipped out of his grasp.

“Damn kid. Always keepin’ me on my feet.” He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“So, Mr. Miller. Where are you taking me Friday evening? Just so I know how to dress for the occasion and all that.” You clipped Ezra’s lead rope onto his halter before leading him out to the pasture gate as Joel walked alongside you, unlatching the gate for you.

“Well, now that would just ruin the surprise darlin.’ Just wear somethin’ that you feel pretty in. Promise I ain’t gonna take you somewhere fancy smancy.”

“So no ball gown attire?”

“Shit, I’d have to go and rent a tux if that was the case. No ball gown attire I’m afraid. Although, if you wanna go dancing sometime..if you end up wanting to hang out with my ugly mug more, I know a really fun bar for that.”

“Who said that you have an ugly mug, huh? I’d say it’s pretty damn easy on the eyes. I’m sure wherever you’re planning on taking me is going to be wonderful. I can’t wait. It’s been forever since a man has taken me out on a proper date.”

“My daughter said I have an ugly mug.” He chuckled, letting you and Ezra walk into the pasture before you slipped his halter off and watched as your horse happily galloped off into the field.

“Well, Sarah is absolutely wrong about that. You have a very handsome mug.” You brushed your hand against his bicep as you strode past him. The butterflies were already fluttering deep in the pit of your stomach. You could not wait for Joel Miller to take you out on a proper date. The only downfall was that you had to wait till Friday night to see just how well he could treat a lady.

She thinks I’m handsome

She thinks I’m handsome

Was the only thought going through Joel’s brain as he latched the gate close, and followed you back into the stables.

tag list: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @soft-cryptids @dinsdjrn @bearsbeetsbeskar @beskarandblasters @lovers-liability @777-wonders @mirasantidotes @pedgeitopascal @atinylittlepain @dreamingofdaddydin @cutesyscreenname @loquaciousferret @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @bonglorddaryl @novemberrain-writes @sarahhxx03 @myrealmofchaos @finnsbubblegum @danilakozlovsky @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ssa-raye @pedropascalfan221 @missgurrl @leeeesahhh @yazsos

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel x reader #sarah miller #tommy miller #blue jeans n’ texas dreams fic #horse dad joel #joel and horses #pre outbreak!joel #horse girls

[stagefoureddiediaz]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the always lovely @spotsandsocks

I"ve not actually had all that much time to do any writing recently - now that Christmas is installed and running I'm hoping I can geet back to it over hte next couple of weeks or my plan to start actually posting on Ao3 in the new year will go flying out of the window!!

Have a snippet from the secret Buddie AU I'm working on in tandem with my time travel AU!!! to be honest I need to expand this scene a little bit and edit it - its not sitting right for me!!

Buck is up early the next morning and enlisting the help of one of the friendlier footmen to get his trunks downstairs and into a horse and cart he has hired to deliver them to the Diaz residence, he hopes they will arrive around the same time as he will the following day, but it has rained overnight and he isn’t sure what steroid will be like for the journey.

That done he return to his chambers until it is time for him to endure breakfast with his parents. The fact it will be the last time for a while makes it easier to bear and he heads out to take a stroll in the nearby park as soon as he can, trying to burn some of the pent up feeling he has bubbling up inside him. 

Eventually the day has passed and he is able to head to bed but the prospect of freedom prevents him from getting more than a couple of hours of sleep. He rises with the sun and dresses quickly. Grabbing his saddle bags, he sneaks out of his room, through the house, and down to the stables where he quickly saddles his horse and leads her out onto the mews before mounting her and setting off through the quiet streets.

As soon as he exits the city limits and he finds himself surrounded by countryside, he urges his horse into a canter and whoops at having managed to get away from the house without issue. Freedom feels wonderful and he settles himself into his ride back to the Diaz house and his new life.

*******

Eddie has spent the time since Bucks interview mentally preparing himself to have another man in the house with them. Having spoken with his housekeeper to ensure that the school room and the room next to his will be ready for Bucks arrival, he shuts himself in his study and returns to his work to distract himself from the feelings of apprehension and something he can’t quite name, but doest want to examine too closely.

The day of Bucks arrival dawns and Eddie remains closed in his study, where he stays for the whole day, taking lunch and dinner in there to avoid running into him and having to share and awkward meal. He isn’t sure what the protocol is with tutors. He supposes that technically Buck is a servant, he is after all under Eddies employ, but it seems somehow wrong to expect the man who is educating his son to eat his meals with the servants. perhaps he will let Buck settle in and see how he goes before he makes any decisions.

Hope you enjoy - let me know what you think and have any of you figured out what its based on yet??!!

#i need to get back to my writing!! #too many things to do dan not enough time! #wip wednesday #secret buddie au fic #buddie fic #WIP #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie

[reiverreturns]

19 + phoenix

honestly this prompt got pretty far away from me but i'm hoping a little dose of mavnix atones for my sins. under the cut for M tones. thank you for the prompts my darling and i'm sorry it's taken 3 bloody months to finish them ❤️ Send me a prompt and some characters/ships for a ficlet or drabble

Phoenix + Raw

Maverick comes apart when the world around him stills. This, Phoenix knows, is a near certainty. 

She understands why. Neither of them are built to stagnate, and in the desert, movement canters around them in a messy tangle of cranks, pulls, rocks, and groans. He pulls her into the Airstream when the sun’s at its hottest and laughs when her jeans stick to her thighs. She disrupts the peace he finds in between his early morning coffee and the sheets of a newspaper until he’s twitching and slack, nervous to pull his bare skin from the leather upholstery. She pours the cold coffee down the drain, makes them a new pot, and knows that it too will be forgotten. 

They work on Maverick’s litany of machines and talk about hops and horror stories and the long roads that got them here. It’s easy. Comfortable. 

But night affords them less. It’s then, in a darkness that is cool and quiet, Maverick murmurs against Phoenix’s hair: “I’m meeting Rooster for dinner next Friday.” 

Phoenix hums a reply and doesn’t move from Maverick’s chest. She already knows. The date’s been on Mav’s calendar for weeks, written in light-handed lettering bearing little resemblance to the crowd of bold capitals and red sharpie around it. A hesitant hand. A hopeful one. 

(They don’t talk about Bradley.) 

Phoenix shifts from Maverick’s side to draw a leg over his waist, settling down until she’s on top and flush against him. Maverick’s eyes are boring holes into the ceiling like he’s trying to see the stars and all their fissures through layers of metal. It’s an old look, nothing new or wondrous in it, and it makes Phoenix’s ribs ache. 

(He looks like a wayfarer, she thinks. Like a man asking the sky to guide him home.) 

She pushes her palms against the sides of his neck, tries to rub away the anxious tic in his jaw with the pad of her thumb. “It’ll be fine Mav,” Phoenix reassures, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty to worry about.” Maverick smiles but Phoenix can see no humour in it. Warm hands find her back and fold over one another in long, slow crosses, holding her to him. “It’s been over a decade. That’s a lot of time to bridge. A lot of apologise for.” 

It is, but it's not all on Maverick, and it takes everything Phoenix has to bite down on her tongue and stop the scold telling him so. It’s not her place. Whatever needs to run its course between Maverick and Rooster will do so without her intervention, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t struggle with being on the sidelines. 

(They’d talked about this the first time Maverick kissed Phoenix and set her ablaze. Phoenix had been so keen to cut the fuel line at a moment’s notice, so awkward was the fit of her trepidation, but when Maverick gasped her given name against her skin - Natasha - the sound was almost reverent.) 

She cants her hips forward and watches his face. Maverick grunts softly, and his eyes flicker towards her. Still intense, still searching, but no longer aimed towards the motionless dark. 

“Well, the easiest way to Rooster’s heart is usually through his stomach,” Phoenix tells him, hands dancing up Maverick’s sides, splaying onto his chest to feel at his heart as she pushes herself upright to straddle him. “Take him to a steak place. That’s his favourite.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. He orders his steaks so rare they’re practically raw. It’s kind of gross.” 

Her words are a concession Phoenix rarely makes. She searches her gut for the immediate pain, a cost to her meddling, but comes up short. And when Maverick sits up to kiss her, smiling in a way that pools his happiness in the creases around his eyes, the thank you in his touch might just be worth it. 

They move together in their cramped bed and chase the night's stillness away. Soft at first, a slow hum of contentment pushing and pulling between them like brushing waves at low tide, but they are not quiet people, and sure enough, when Phoenix throws out a spark, she finds fuel. 

She rolls her hips and is rewarded by delicious, hard friction. Maverick’s hands map their way to her flanks and she sighs, winding her arms around his neck, trusting him at the controls. 

“And where am I taking you Friday after next?” Maverick whispers into her ear. Beneath the rough edge of her own breathing, Phoenix hears the grin of it. His hand slips between them, the cocky bastard, and she laughs. 

“Anywhere you want,” she replies, turning her head to catch his mouth with hers.

Anywhere, but first, you better take me to the stars.

#i told you i'd finish all of your prompts eventually ajksjksjksjks #honestly i sat on this forever bc i wanted to do something vaguely more creative than full angst but all i could think of was raw meat #and that's just... not the vibe lol #ANYWAY. anyway. i'm the ihavenoideawhati'mdoing dog meme with this pairing but i hope you like it love!! #death taxes and reiver writing a full on ficlet when she meant to write 200-ish words #mavnix #pete maverick mitchell #natasha phoenix trace #top gun fanfiction #reiverwrites #prompt fill #top gun maverick #monlcabarbaro

[concussed-to-pieces]

More Honest

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls Five: Skyrim

Pairing: Argis the Bulwark/F!Dragonborn

Rating: Holy shit M.

Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day, gang! I hope you all like this indulgent little shindig inspired by a glitch that I encountered. Enjoy!

Tag List: @stargazerofgoldenwords @toxiicpop @thirstworldproblemss

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains canon-typical violence and unprotected sex between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

Argis had always just assumed the leather thong around her neck bore a pendant of Talos. It would explain her hiding it beneath her clothes for the entirety of their partnership, and it would also explain her never taking it off. Many of his fellow Nords had a difficult time accepting the ruling on Talos.

So he was stunned when, one night at the tavern, the pendant that slipped out from beneath her undertunic was…

"An amulet of Mara?" He had asked before he could stop himself, his brow furrowed. "You're looking for marriage, then?"

Tor had gone red in the face, waving him off with an awkward cough. "I've been a follower of Mara since I was very little. I even made this pendant myself, see?" The Nord woman turned the bauble in her hands, showing Argis just how rough the traditionally-smooth edges were. "As you can tell, jewelry-crafting was not my strong suit. I was a stripling when I forged these beads and the pendant, and my patience was thin." She explained, chuckling quietly.

"It's better that way, isn't it?" Argis found himself saying. "More honest. Mara accepts us despite our faults, if I remember those long-winded sermons right."

Tor nodded. "Aye, she loves us and wishes us to love in turn. One of the things that drew me to her is that the world is far more cruel than it needs to be. I would…make it less so." She carefully tucked the amulet back beneath her clothing and, seeming to realize he had watched her do it, rushed to clarify. "I've kept it hidden since I came of age to marry," she elaborated with a sad smile. "There have always been far too many pressing concerns to trouble myself with finding a partner."

The discussion had been brief, begun and ended just as quickly. So why couldn't he get it out of his head?

…

"Why not worship Dibella? Her followers make many lofty claims in the name of love." Multitudes of beautiful men and women made their way to the shrine of Dibella every day, clad in a conglomeration of tastefully minimal garb. Surely the goddess of beauty and passion's worship would go hand in hand with the goddess of love!

"I am not nearly so vain as to believe I could become a worshipper of Dibella!" Tor had roared draconically with laughter at his suggestion, amber eyes alight. "Argis, I cannot parade like a peacock with the rest of Dibella's comely faithful. There is far too much work to be done."

"Aye, but-" Argis had paused, her words catching up to him. "My Thane, you are more than capable of being one of Dibella's faithful." He insisted boldly, unsure of where this bravery came from. 

Tor's laugh was a bit softer this time. "This body has taken a beating, Argis. I am not some soft and unmarred offering."

"It is better that way, isn't it?" Argis found himself echoing what he had said months ago. "More honest. Love is not young and untouched, but neither is it old and weary. Love…it endures through hardships, after the passion has faded."

Tor had given him a curious look, nudging her mount with her heel to bring their horses closer together. "Oddly profound for you, my housecarl." Her tone was teasing, yet serious enough that Argis knew he was on thin ice.

"I meant no disrespect to you, my Thane. It was a simple observation, nothing more."

"Then I will take the compliment." Tor had winked at him, then clicked her tongue to urge her horse into a canter.

…

Those conversations resounded in his head now as he stared at the innkeeper, who stared back at him with a perplexed expression. Kleppr finally asked, "what ails you, Argis? You look as though you've seen a ghost!" 

"N-Nothing, nothing is wrong." Argis fumbled to respond, his mind already miles away. Two days ago. She accepted that job two days ago. I only noticed her bow was gone yesterday. She's been gone two days and she didn't bring her axe--the stables, I'll ask at the stables. If her horse is still there, that means she's on foot.

The Forsworn had been harassing travelers more and more often; no doubt they had caught wind that the Dragonborn resided in Markarth. It only made sense that the Jarl would post a bounty for the clearing out of a camp nearby.

Argis stormed through the tiny market, heading for the gate. One step at a time, he told himself, trying to quell the rapidly rising panic that was gripping his throat. We gather information.

He didn't even have to question the stable attendant; the enormous head of Tor's horse (a dun beast by the name of Zace) was clearly visible over the half-closed stall door. The horse whinnied at the sight of Argis, no doubt expecting the Nord to come bearing the usual treats. Argis' own horse Tannin, the ungrateful bastard, didn't even look up from his manger.

Argis fretted for a moment, scratching Zace's pink muzzle. He quickly made his choice though, beginning to saddle both horses. He would find her faster riding than on foot.

Hopefully.

…

Well, Tor thought, in pain and more than a little concerned, this is a fine mess I've gotten myself into.

The plan, inasmuch as there was one, had been to scout the encampment and retrieve Argis once she was confident she had memorized the layout. The camp had been a bit further away than she had been led to believe, but Tor was confident they could easily reach it before the denizens of said camp decided to launch another raid.

However, she hadn't anticipated the Forsworn would be led by a hagraven. The unsettling amalgamation of avian and woman had sniffed her out almost immediately and, armed only with a rarely-used bow and limited magics, Tor had been captured. She had Shouted one of their warriors to his death, sending his body flying off the edge of a cliff, but that had just whipped the rest of them into a frenzy.

Their Briarheart had brought her down, striking what would have been a killing blow to a mere mortal when his saw-toothed blade tore through her side. Tor had been hard-pressed to stop the bleeding even with her healing spells, a task made all the more difficult by her captors frantically scrambling to bind and gag her.

Now she lay on a filthy pile of straw, attempting to glare daggers through the back of the Briarheart's head. He had been the one to rouse her from her uneasy doze in the weak, gloomy dawn, his antlered headpiece knocking the poorly-framed doorway of the hovel they kept her in. The entire structure shuddered with every gust of bitter Reach wind but still somehow managed to maintain its integrity. More’s the pity, the Dragonborn mused uncharitably, flexing her hands in their binds. They seemed to have gone numb while she slept, though whether from her position or the tightness of the ropes she could not say. 

“...jarl will have no choice but to accede, once we can scrape together the paper,” came the wheezing, tremulous rasp of the hagraven. There, that shuffling drag of clawed feet over the paltry soil. So she was fast approaching. “Our demands will be many, as this is certainly a worthy prize.”

Tor grimaced. The Jarl of Markarth, Igmund, did not exactly relish her presence in Vlindrel Hall. She doubted whatever demands this hagraven had would be particularly well-received. Hell, it might be weeks before Igmund even found whatever missive they sent; he was often mired in tedious deliberations with the Thalmor for days on end. 

The woman jerked upright as another thought struck her. Argis. She hadn't left a note, oh gods no. He hadn't been at Vlindrel when she departed either, which meant that any hope of rescue she may have harbored was quickly withering away. It could very well take a week for Argis to realize she was missing, and at that point Kleppr probably would have entirely forgotten that he had even given her that bounty…

Tor cursed herself inwardly, furious at her own ineptitude. Why did she always manage to land in these situations?! Alone, hogtied and headed to whatever axe-man the gods saw fit to place in her path this time. Except now she wasn't even able to use the Voice, and she doubted she could count on the dubious charity of Alduin to save her once more. 

Normally, she prayed from force of habit, an evening routine forged in her early years by parents who were long gone. She had never received a direct answer to a prayer, but that hadn't dampened her faith. You must be realistic with your prayers, dear one, her mother had chided her one evening. This is not a wish. It is a prayer.

Mara, Tor begged silently, her eyes closed tight. Mara, please. I need help, I need something, anything. She could work with whatever she was given, but she knew she was running out of time. The hagraven may not wish to keep her alive, and little could turn the crow-wife from her path if she decided to snuff out the Dragonborn. No, Tor jolted, the realization making her stomach lurch. It would be much simpler to kill me and replace my heart, raise me under her control. The Forsworn with the Dragonborn on their side? 

Gods, what a fool she had been. She had practically hobbled herself and fallen into their snare.

Talons curved beneath her chin, pricking the skin of her throat. "I know you are awake, little morsel." The hagraven growled, her breath hot and rank with the stench of old blood. Tor couldn't keep herself from flinching and the witch chuckled, a little jackdaw cackle. "Is it afraid of me? Poor sweetling." She cooed tenderly, clawed fingers raking through the mess of Tor's half-braided hair. The Nord woman bore this insult in silence, her teeth clenched into the gag while she continued to glare at the Briarheart. He had turned around to stare at her and his hagraven master, half-closed eyes uncannily glassy. 

Briarhearts, as far as Tor knew, teetered on that gray edge of mortality, neither truly alive nor dead. Their existence was hellish at best and blatantly cruel at worst; freshly-deceased warriors wrested back from their eternal slumber by their blood-soaked matrons, the hagravens raising the body anew and enslaving the soul in the process. Tor had only witnessed one such raising and she had fell upon the feathered creatures and their corpse-spawn with such a violence that there had been nothing left but ash. 

It seemed, however, that she would be joining their ranks soon. The hagraven, unnaturally strong even in that wizened frame, bent Tor over until her forehead was inches from the floor and slid a brown-stained bowl beneath her throat. "Cannot waste a drop of dragon blood." The hag explained needlessly, accepting a dark-bladed knife from the Briarheart. "It will not be swift. Try not to struggle, so you don't ruin your pretty, pretty flesh." Her tone was almost motherly, but it was thoroughly ruined by the horrible scrape of her voice.

Tor, of course, immediately began to struggle, thrashing as best as she could in the iron hold of the hagraven. 

The Briarheart, who had returned to his post in the doorway, grunted suddenly, his hands half-raising. "What, can't you see I'm busy?" The hagraven spat in annoyance, squawking with alarm when the Briarheart fell to its knees. Argis, his sword still run through the briarheart fruit that had replaced the half-living warrior's heart, planted a foot in the Briarheart's back and tore his blade free. 

"Where is-" he began in a fierce bellow, his volume stunning even Tor. The hagraven shrieked, talons bared, and she lunged at the large warrior. Her claws squealed against the metal of his sword, showering sparks on the floor before Argis managed to parry, the housecarl forcing his full weight down on the witch as a riposte to her attack.

Argis! Tor's eyes fell on the ceremonial dagger the hagraven had dropped and she flung herself on top of it, fingers clawing for the hilt in the straw and packed dirt of the floor. 

…

Fire exploded around the edge of Argis' shield and he snarled, ignoring the flames licking over his hauberk sleeve while he slammed the sturdy metal into the hagraven's face. The witch reeled backwards from the blow, hurling curses at him in Bretic and some other foul tongue. Argis wasn't wildly sure, but he got the sense that a few future generations of his bloodline may have been involved in her wrathful incantations. 

He for his part remained silent. Tor was alive, he had arrived in time. Relief had nearly brought him low, his defenses in shambles after the frantic dash on horseback over the mountainous, scrub bush-choked lands of the Reach. It had been all he could do to master himself before the hag reacted, only just managing to use his superior height and weight to break their stalemate. For all that their appearance was waifish and frail, hagravens had a terrible, wiry strength to their limbs. 

The witch continued to scream and clamor at him like a wild beast, her raw-throated wailing threatening to wake the dead. Argis crashed the flat of his blade on his shield and shouted in retort, drowning her out with his own din until she seemed to snap under frustration. A whirling mass of feathers engulfed her and Argis braced himself for another attack. He didn't have to wait long, though the attack came from above and he was barely able to fling the hagraven away from him before she tore his remaining eye out. She howled in fury, her motions now a frenzied race to sink her claws into any exposed skin. 

"Morsel, morsel!" she jibbered at him, which he rewarded with another stout slam of the shield against her beak-like nose. Her claws snagged in the sleeve of his hauberk and Argis was made abruptly aware of his own mortality, the warrior taking a hearty step back to pull the witch with him into the weak sunlight. A sharp, violent jerk later and he freed himself, but not without cost; his hauberk and the skin beneath it were rent deeply from those terrible talons. 

The hag paused, seeming to notice the disarray of the filthy camp around her. There had only been six Forsworn Argis had found, but he knew if any of them escaped they would raise the alarm.

So none of them had escaped. 

The witch gnashed her teeth, stamping those clawed feet on the ground and tearing at the dirt. "You'll pay for this, meat!" She raged, her eyes wild with madness. The feathers swirled once more, leaving Argis uncertain as to where her next attack would come from. Behind him, if he had to guess, and regrettably he was proven correct. 

Claws hooked into his shoulders, shearing through his mail like it was simple leather and digging for purchase in the flesh beneath. He was dragged back a step before he could find his footing, then the Nord man gritted his teeth and lunged forwards, ripping free from her ferocious talons. 

He whirled to face his foe with blade already raised to fend off the next attack, but the hag had suddenly gone still. A black point protruded from her throat and, as she collapsed in a heap, Tor was revealed behind her, the woman still in the process of thrusting the dagger home. The witch writhed on the ground for a moment, clawing futilely at her neck, then went limp.

"Tor," Argis breathed, simultaneously relieved and frantic. A deep wound marred Tor's side, the injury blotting her stained leathers black with blood. Argis stormed forward, seizing her arm. Tor looked up at him, her eyes wide, and he forced her to sit before she could manage to wriggle free. "Be still," the Nord man grated out through clenched teeth. "I'll fetch the horses."

"Argis, you're-"

"Be still." He barked, irritated when she jerked out of his hold. "Woman, I've been half out of my mind trying to find you. The least you can do is follow one simple order." The man seethed, panic sharpening his words to a razor edge.

"Argis." Tor snapped, her hand slamming down on the wound on his arm. The sudden pain had the large man breathless, and he dropped to one knee before he could steady himself. Golden light poured from beneath her hand, familiar healing magic knitting Argis' arm back together. "I'm fine." She insisted, her brow furrowed. "I'm fine, I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

Were those…was she crying? Argis blinked rapidly, fumbling at her side. The skin beneath her thin traveling leathers was indeed fine; she must have healed her wound and all he had seen was the old blood still smeared on the area. "Thank the Nine." He sighed. "I thought…there was blood, I assumed the worst." 

…

"I'm fine." Tor repeated tremulously, tears streaming unchecked down her face. She couldn't seem to stop them. She was fine, Argis was wounded but alive. Why was she crying?

"Aye, I suppose you are." Argis murmured, his touch uncharacteristically gentle when he cupped her cheek to wipe the tears away. Tor found herself crumpling, shoving her face into his chest and gripping his back like he would be torn from her if she didn't. After a moment, Argis' arms wrapped around her. 

They were silent for a time, Tor with her ear pressed to his still-pounding heart and Argis with his chin resting on the top of her head. 

"I'm glad I arrived in time." Argis said finally. 

"As am I." Tor took a deep breath to steel her nerves, then pulled away. He was smiling, beaming at her and she was stunned silent by the sight. He smiled so rarely, to see him this pleased…

Argis shifted awkwardly under her stare, seeming a bit uncomfortable with her sudden muteness. "I should…er, get the horses."

Tor's ability to speak made an abrupt return as she asked, "did you bring any food?", her stomach rumbling the punctuation on her hopeful query. Her housecarl chuckled, assuring her that yes, he had indeed stocked the saddlebags. 

Argis rose, offering her a hand up even as he swayed on his feet. Tor waved him off, worriedly examining the wounds on his shoulders. Tandem trios of raking claws had ribboned the hauberk, gambeson and flesh beneath them badly. Instead of complaining of the pain, Argis bemoaned the fact that he would need to have the chain mail repaired. Tor couldn't help her laugh at that. 

Her housecarl, ever the pragmatist. 

"Once I get some food into me, I'll make quick work of those scratches," Tor promised, draping Argis' arm over her shoulders to help him walk. He was a bit unsteady, which had her concerned. 

"My Thane, I…" Argis paused, squinting. "My head feels odd," he admitted. "It's aching badly. The light hurts."

Hell. "Stay with me until you can show me where you left the horses, Argis." Tor instructed, tightening her hold on his arm. Argis nodded, his jaw set in a grim line. 

After a short, stumbling eternity, the Nord man pointed toward a tangle of juniper across the next ridge. "There." It seemed to take most of his energy just to say that much; he sagged perceptibly after the word.

Tor knew she didn't have the strength left to drag him over the rise, so she settled him down on the ground. "Stay here, I'll bring the horses to us."

Argis blinked wearily up at her, his exhaustion evident in the way his head kept lolling forwards onto his chest. Tor puffed out a breath, and then turned to clamber up the steep incline. 

Zace, bless his heart, was mouthing disinterestedly at the scrubby brush around him. Tannin noticed her first, if his huffing snort was any indicator. Zace whinnied loudly when she called his name, trotting to the end of his lead. 

"Aye, I should have brought you." Tor allowed with a rueful smile, rubbing her mount's nose and then taking Tannin's reins.

…

Brain Rot, a common ailment when battling hagravens, had been what robbed the spirit from Argis' nigh-indomitable form. Oh certainly, the priestess of Dibella had assured that he would recover if he was allowed to rest, even offering her own body to lie beside him in an effort to break the fever that wracked his unconscious form. 

Tor may have ushered the extremely-beautiful woman out of Vlindrel Hall a bit more hastily than was proper, but managing her jealousy had never been a strong suit. She had wondered more than once if it had something to do with her dragon blood and just how hot it ran. She tended towards fierce, almost single-minded protection of whatever she held dear, and Argis…

Argis was indeed dear to her. Not that he needed to know that, of course! It would be much simpler for him to find a normal partner, settle down with them and enjoy his life. Tor understood with a heavy sadness that should he turn his wandering eye to her, it would only lead him to grief…a life of violence, bloodshed and no-doubt eventual death at the hands of some ambitious soul. It was not a life she wished on any, and so she had stayed carefully distant. Whatever feelings bloomed in her heart were always hers alone to bear.

He had rescued her, though. That knowledge kept her awake fretting into the early hours, the foyer consistently frequented by restless pacing. She hadn't gotten the chance to ask him just why he had come after her so quickly, why he had thought that the Dragonborn wouldn't be able to manage a simple encampment of Forsworn. Admittedly, her Thu'um was not well-trained. A single full shout could leave her throat raw for hours, as it had during her bout with the Forsworn, and she was lax in her meditation. Inner peace hadn't seemed like a priority what with a world-ending beast breathing down her neck.

Perhaps she had been too confident. Truly, if Argis hadn't arrived when he did, she shuddered to think of what blind havoc her body could be wreaking. He had rescued her. 

He had rescued the Dragonborn.

If nothing else, she could endure the blow to her pride to give him the satisfaction of her admission of that fact.

…

He became aware of the embers in the hearth, listening to them softly hum and crackle to one another as they died down. It must be late.

There was the clatter of a wooden object being placed on the table beside his bed. After a moment, a ladle was pressed to his lips and the man drank ravenously from the cool water. 

Argis finally managed to open his eye for the first time in what felt like weeks, staring upwards at the stone ceiling. He heard a gasp beside him but he didn't even have the strength to turn his head.

"Argis!"

Her.

His body suddenly felt like it was full of sunlight, too enormous to fight, too airy to grasp. He strained to move and her hands carefully framed his jaw, easing his head to the side. 

Tor was alive. He hadn't failed. The fever dreams had been so vivid at some points that Argis was still uncertain if this was reality. He had watched her die so many times…

"Thane." He rasped. 

Tor hushed him, a damp rag smoothing back the hair that had gotten stuck to his forehead. "It's alright, you're safe." She soothed, her expression achingly concerned. Argis' breath hitched, eye widening. 

Why is she looking at me like that? 

He tried again to speak, swallowing hard beforehand. "My Thane, I-" 

"Please Argis, save your strength. You've been ill for days." Tor murmured. "I'll fetch you some broth."

Moving his body felt like it was nigh-impossible, but Argis still managed to grab her wrist before she could flee. "Are you well?" He breathed, his sight already wavering with exhaustion.

The woman nodded, blinking rapidly before turning away. "A-Aye." She mumbled, scrubbing at her eyes. "Quite well, my housecarl."

He couldn't recall her ever saying his title so tenderly.

…

The dynamic seemed to have shifted between them and Tor didn't know how to adjust. 

Argis had silently accepted her thanks and proceeded to act as though the mishap had not occurred, the man clearly ready to put the whole thing behind them. On the one hand, it was as if nothing had changed, but on the other, everything had changed. Tor floundered, simultaneously wishing he would say something and being grateful that he had so quickly moved past it. 

Perhaps the dynamic had only changed for her, so bound to her dragon pride that she couldn't reconcile herself with these uncertain emotions. Uncertain!, she scoffed at herself, hardly uncertain. It is longing for what I cannot have, and lust for my shield-mate. It was plain as a fresh coat of whitewash but still she bandied with it, tamping down her thoughts night after night.

Mara, I don't know what to do.

…

The trek to Riften had been long and fraught with wretched weather. After dismounting Tannin, Argis had to brace himself against a beam in the stables so he could settle his hip back into place. Alongside him, Tor stretched with a long groan, shaking the rainwater off her oilcloth cloak. 

"I can speak with the jarl tomorrow morning." She grunted as she raised her arms overhead. "Tonight, all I want is a hot meal and a soft bed."

"Aye." Argis agreed, beginning to remove Tannin's tack. "I assume you'll be going to the shrine?"

"Indeed, before my meal so I don't fall asleep mid-prayer." Tor grinned up at him from beneath her hood but Argis quickly averted his gaze, continuing to busy himself with his mount's needs. He heard her exhale after a moment, then, "I'll get us a room and arrange our meals. Could you-"

"I'll tend to Zace." The man cut her off, already knowing what she would say. This was their usual arrangement, after all. He must have said it a bit sharper than he intended however, because Tor fell silent and departed without another word.

What am I doing? Argis rested his forehead on Tannin's side, sighing heavily. What am I doing?

He stepped out into the weather once more an hour later, squinting against the downpour as he moved from lantern to lantern. Riften made Argis uneasy, but since becoming Tor's housecarl he had noted a significant decrease in harassment of his person. It was as if even the ne'er do wells of Riften could sense the power rolling off of Tor in silent waves, and they did their utmost to give the woman and her housecarl a wide berth. 

Upon entering the Bee And Barb, Argis was assaulted by a wave of sound and light. The common room was packed to the gills with townsfolk, all of them drinking and discussing their day with one another. In spite of himself, Argis could feel his shoulders relax. Blessed normalcy, the fleeting taste of the mundane. The world continued on it would seem, civil war, dragons and all. 

Talen-Jei waved him over, the Argonian obviously in good spirits. "Tor told us you would be coming! How do you fare?" He asked the housecarl, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

"Well enough. The trek was misery, so we are glad for your hospitality." Argis replied stiffly, always torn between being a proper housecarl or speaking in a more casual manner. 

Talen-Jei didn't seem to mind, the provisioner clapping him warmly on the shoulder. "Tor secured your bed and a hot dinner, would you like the key to your room now or will you wait for your meal to be prepared?"

Argis shook his head. "I can wait. No need for you or Keerava to trouble yourselves serving us." 

"You are too kind, as always!" Argis raised an eyebrow at how chipper Talen-Jei was. He seemed to be in remarkably good spirits, almost suspiciously good. Upon pointing that out though, Talen-Jei simply offered him a broad, toothy grin. "It is good that you and Tor are here, my friend. May Mara smile upon you both."

Argis blinked, feeling more and more like he was missing some vital piece of information as the innkeeper bustled away, humming a tune the whole while.

…

Tor pursed her lips, a bit confused. Normally the shrine of Mara was vacant aside from the clergy and perhaps a worshiper or two. Tonight for some reason the shrine entrance was draped in wet garlands of rain-battered flowers, and inside appeared to be teeming with people. She recognized a few vestments of Dibella amongst the crowd, and after several moments of thought (as well as some frantic mental counting) the Dragonborn realized that today was possibly the worst day they could have come to Riften. 

Not that Markarth would have been any better, if anything it would have been far more chaotic, but Hearts Day was celebrated by any who had a vested interest in romance and all that came with it. Dibella's faithful often intermingled with Mara's, especially today when the songs were sung and the flowers braided into their boughs for the lintel.

So much for her evening of quiet prayer! She ought to have realized once she saw how crowded the stables were, but she had been preoccupied with…

Tor frowned, tugging her hood forward and carefully making her way through the festooned congregants to the altar. The statue of Mara gazed upwards with that vague, loving benevolence, her arms wide in welcome. Before her was the customary bowl for offerings, currently piled high with seasonal blooms, greenery and gold pieces.

The Dragonborn breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of spice and incense that hung heavy in the air as she rested her palms on the altar. Mara, is this a sign? Coming here on this day, with no true intent to do so, finding a room at the inn on this day? If this is mere coincidence, I fear my heart will break. 

The deity, as expected, gave no direct reply, and Tor departed after placing a handful of Septims in the basin atop its plinth. 

The rainy night seemed all the more dreary once she left the warm, bustling atmosphere of the shrine, so it was with quickened steps that the woman made her way to the Bee And Barb, where Argis was waiting.

Argis. She froze inches from pulling open the inn's door, her hand hovering in midair. There had only been one room available, and she hadn't questioned whether the room would have two beds. 

Perhaps she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Tor felt a bit annoyed with herself, a bit frantic, and then more annoyed that she was frantic. What did she have to fear? She could have any partner she chose! They should count themselves lucky if she graced them with her presence. As the Dragonborn, she had to but speak and she would be flooded with proposals. 

Aye, and there was the problem with the whole thing. It would be some grasping nobility, some starstruck yearling coming to her to ask you're looking for marriage?, greed or awe shining in their eyes. Not the one person she sought. 

Tor straightened her shoulders, smoothed her expression, and opened the door to the inn.

…

"Ah." His conversational skills had always been lacking, but now Argis was at a loss. Tor, for her part, turned about the room again, seeming to be searching futilely for a second bed. 

"It would appear," she began carefully, shooting him a look that was downright apologetic, "that this lodging has afforded us one bed."

Argis grunted in reply. He may only have the lone eye, but it still worked. He settled down into one of the chairs beside the bed, placing both their trenchers on the somewhat-rickety table. "Come eat. You must be hungry. I know I am." He tried to soften his words somewhat, gesturing towards her with an already-full spoon. 

Tor lowered herself gingerly into the chair across from him, exhaling a sigh when the furniture held her weight. 

Argis couldn't help his chuckle at that, shaking his head. "My Thane, if these matchsticks could support me, they'll assuredly support you."

"It's always so damp here though, I fear the moisture gets into the wood." Tor mused, tearing a piece of warm bread from the loaf and dunking it into the stew they were to share. Argis caught himself watching her hands and he quickly adjusted his posture, staring down at the baked potatoes in front of him. 

He heard Tor's spoon clatter against her trencher, the woman exhaling harshly once more. "What is it?" She erupted crossly. "That's the fourth time you've done that today alone! Have I upset you, my housecarl?"

"I-" Argis stuttered, bewildered. She didn't usually snap at him, her temper always held in the burning, tense posture of her shoulders. "I apologize, my Thane. I meant no offense. I…I find myself at a loss, is all."

"Whatever for?" She still sounded annoyed, her voice sharp and carrying that burr of draconic rumble. "Look at me, Argis. What is the matter?" Tor continued after a moment of him studying his potatoes further.

"That is the matter." Argis was horrified to hear his own voice mutter, the warrior betraying himself at the bitter end. He heard her breath hitch. "I shouldn't look at you. If I so much as look at you, my mind…does things I cannot allow." He tried to explain, the words coming painfully slow. "I am your housecarl, and you are my Thane."

"Be honest with me, Argis." Why was her voice so soft? "What are these thoughts you struggle with?"

"Daydreams." Argis grated out, praying for mercy. 

The gods were not with him this evening, however, as he heard and felt Tor lean her weight onto the table. "Daydreams, aye?" Her voice now held a note of teasing, almost smug, but too warm for it to endure. "Daydreams about your Thane? Oh, surely that would be unheard of."

"Do not mock me, woman." Argis growled, glaring intently down at his meal.

"I could never." Tor insisted, and Argis finally dared to look up at her. She was just sitting there, elbows propped up on the table with a serious expression on her face. "The question is, would you rather keep it to your daydreams?" 

Argis opened his mouth, then paused. "You would have nothing to fear from me regardless, my Thane." He replied stiffly. "I am able to master myself and this…issue doesn't need to impede our current arrangement." Please don't send me away.

Tor sighed, rubbing her upper arms in a clear effort to banish some phantom chill. "I'm not concerned with impedement, Argis. What concerns me is that you may not understand the gravity of what could happen to you if you…if we become involved." Her face had gone pensive with contemplation. "I am the Dragonborn. You've witnessed time and again what lengths my enemies will go to in order to remove me from this mortal realm."

"I am sworn to carry your burdens," Argis rasped around the traitorous lump of hope in his throat. "Whatever they may be."

"But is this what you want?" Tor pressed. "I would not have you risk your life for me out of a misplaced sense of duty. We need not discuss this again, should you reconsider."

"I will not." Argis snarled. "I've thought and thought about this, I can't bear to think about it anymore. I…I want to." He was ashamed of how quiet his voice was when next he asked, "are you looking for marriage?"

"You've asked me that once before," was her light response, offering him no true resolution. 

Slowly, carefully, Argis slipped a finger beneath the leather thong around her neck, tugging the amulet of Mara into view. "Answer me, Tor." He murmured, using the sturdy leather cord to ease her closer. "Answer me. This goes no further than what you'll allow." She avoided his gaze for several long seconds, the woman obviously turning something over in her mind. Argis merely waited patiently, the uncertain conclusion twisting his stomach into a tight knot.

"I am." The Dragonborn, the woman, answered his query softly, glancing up at him through the curtain of her lashes. "Are…Are you interested?"

Argis cleared his throat. "I am."

"You are." She breathed, her whole face lighting up. "Soon?"

"Aye." Argis agreed eagerly, rising from the table and extending her a hand. "Now."

"Now? But the food-!"

Argis groaned in exasperation, knowing he could never tear her from a hot meal. "Finish the blasted thing, then. But hurry."

…

Maramal, priest of Mara, raised his hands while smiling at the couple before him. "It was Mara who first gave birth to all creation, and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learn to love one another. It is from this love that we learn a life lived alone is no life at all."

A breathless hush had fallen over the crowded shrine. All that could be heard was the sound of crackling torches and the fierce downpour outside hammering on the courtyard.

It's perfect, Tor decided, giving Argis' hand a small squeeze. The priestess at the shrine and multiple enthusiastic faithful had seen fit to adorn her hair with flowers scavenged from the altar, carefully braiding the delicate blooms into her long brown locks. Argis had simply stood there and watched it happen, an odd little smile on his face the entire time while Tor protested half-heartedly. 

"We gather here today under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and in the next, in prosperity and poverty, in joy and hardship." The priest then turned to Argis, asking the time-honored question, "Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?" 

"Now and forever." Argis echoed, his voice strong and certain. 

Tor closed her eyes, a wave of relief washing over her. No matter how much she had tried to reassure herself, there had been that fear he would decide against this…incredibly impulsive course of action. 

Now though it was her turn to respond, the priest giving her a proud, warm look as he queried, "do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?"

"Now and forever." Tor said it softly, but the rafters still shuddered overhead from the power of the Thu'um. Argis chuckled, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed." The officiant intoned, smiling broadly. The packed shrine burst into cheers, pilgrims tossing flowers and offering well-wishes to one of the many newly-wedded couples they would see that evening alone. As Tor and Argis stepped aside to make room for the next pair, Tor was startled by her housecarl sweeping her up in his arms and bringing their mouths together in a searing kiss.

Not my housecarl, she corrected herself hazily after a moment, my husband. 

"Sorry." Argis apologized, the man sounding as breathless as she felt. "Wanted to do that for a long time."

"Well don't stop now." Tor implored, dazed from the kiss and the sincere smile that he was aiming at her. "Surely you have more you would like to give?"

Argis opened his mouth, seeming to be about to retort, but he abruptly shook his head. Instead, he grasped her hand once more, urging her outside. 

…

"My wife," Argis breathed against her mouth, trailing kisses down her jaw. Tor was still fumbling with the buttons on her tunic, soft, helpless little whimpers catching in her throat. "Should we wipe the paint off first?" The man asked after a moment, his thumb smearing her customary facial adornment. 

Tor seemed to come back to herself, jerking fully upright. "Yes, I-I ought to-I mean, I should." Argis moved to fetch the ewer and basin, inciting her to frantically protest, "I can do it myself!"

"Shh, let me." He soothed, dampening the washrag. "Let me tend to you, my wife."

"But…" Tor's eyes half-lidded when the cloth met her cheek, and Argis felt her lean into his touch. 

"You can clean mine off, how does that sound?" He bargained, chuckling when she nodded silently. "Our first compromise." The Dragonborn opened one eye to glare at him but remained silent, tilting her chin when he asked her to so he could clean the paint off her brow. "There, my…" Argis tripped over his words momentarily. He had considered so many options, had thought about this moment for much longer than was appropriate, yet he had never settled on what he would call her. "...my love." He finished softly, making one last sweep over the bridge of her nose.

Tor cradled his face in her hands, her eyes bright with emotion. She brought their foreheads together, whispering, "my love." 

A tremor ran through Argis' body, so like when she was using the Voice near him in battle and power surged in his very bones. Yet it was also different, for the sensation sent a rush of heat to the core of his body. Argis mutely enfolded her in his arms, everything that he had longed to say still tangling up in his chest.

Tor's sigh was deep, but it did not seem to be borne out of discontent. She pulled away from him, picking up a fresh washrag to remove his own war paint. "What will we do after this, my love?" She clearly relished the title, lingering on it a bit longer.

Argis stayed silent, waiting until she had finished cleaning the marking from his cheek and jaw. Then, the Nord man surged forward, capturing her mouth with his own and pressing her back against the wall. "Whatever your heart desires, Tor." He rumbled, relishing the shiver his voice drew from her. "Whatever you ask of me, whatever you need. I am yours."

Tor plied her fingers greedily through his damp hair, her eyes focused on the collar of his shirt instead of his face. "I…would greatly enjoy it if my husband…"

Oh, she was everything he could have dreamed of and so much more, her face aflush and her fingers sliding down to cup the back of his neck. "Ask it of me and it shall be done." Argis promised. Then, unable to keep from teasing her a bit, "surely the Dragonborn can find their Voice?"

Tor huffed at him, obviously embarrassed. "Fine, if you will force me to say it!"

"Never." The man replied gently. "I will have it from you willingly or not at all."

"I am willing, it's just that…well, it's you." Tor explained awkwardly, tight fists resting on his shoulders. "You are…different. Special."

"High praise, but I've carried your spoils across the entirety of Skyrim. Flattery will get you nowhere." He had rarely witnessed her so rattled. If he hadn't been smitten before, her actions now would have certainly tipped him over that edge. "I would hear you say it if you can, my Thane."

"I…take me to bed." She mumbled out in a rush, burying her face in his neck. "P-Please, Argis, take me to bed and make love to me."

"Have you ever before?" Argis queried while easing them down on the counterpane, letting her continue to hide her face for the moment. He felt her nod into his shoulder and he smiled without meaning to.

"I was very young." The woman tried to justify her answer, seeming concerned about his judgment. "Old enough, of course, but foolish."

"Likewise. Good to know that this isn't a first attempt for either of us." Argis rolled his neck, grunting when it popped and released some of the tension he carried in his back. "I'm not sure I would be able to keep my hands off of you," he admitted ruefully, offering her a crooked smile. "I would try, of course."

"Suppose that's all I can ask of you." Tor chuckled.

…

It was always him. 

That was how it felt, anyway. Since the day she had stumbled through the gates of Markarth, worn and haggard from the road, it was as if she had been drawn to him.

Argis had been gruff at first, not unpleasant but not overly friendly either. He had kept his distance from her until he had witnessed her fight for the first time, witnessed her using the Thu'um to scorch a path before her. Even then, he didn't cower in awe or fear. He merely hammered the flat of his blade on his shield and raised his voice with her own, unleashing the ages old fury of the shield-mate dirge. 

They had stood back to back on that rise, her axe and his sword falling upon their enemies with fervor. "Forgive me, my Thane!" The man had apologized mid-strike through gritted teeth. "I did not believe the stories. I should have known better than to doubt."

"No harm done!" Tor rasped in reply, her throat raw. "Hard to believe without seeing."

"You are as gracious as you are fierce in battle!" The compliment had shot down her spine, providing strength to her weary limbs and reinvigorating her prideful spirit. 

Once they had finally routed the enemy troops, Argis had clasped arms with her.

"Honor to you, my Thane." The man had said sincerely, the faintest shadow of a smile on his face. "I will protect you with my life."

After that skirmish they had fallen into an easy camaraderie, oftentimes riding out to scout the way ahead of the battalion's movements. For all that she wanted to keep her distance, Tor had cherished those times on the road together. It had been peaceful, normal even, like she was a regular woman. 

Soon enough reality would crash back down on her however, leaving her tossing and turning in her bedroll while nightmares of Alduin plagued her sleep. 

One night Argis had woken her from a particularly harrowing dream, and she had nearly used the Voice on him before she realized where she was, who he was. The Dragonborn hunched over in a rare moment of visible weakness, her shoulders shaking with the force of her barely-contained sobs as she cried, "it's too much, Argis, it's all too much, I can't do this-" 

"You don't have to do it alone." Argis had cut her panicked rambling short. She could still recall the sharp shadows playing over his face from the low flames of their fire, the ferocity of his expression while he stared her down. "I am sworn to carry your burdens."

It was always him. 

"Argis," Tor breathed in his ear, loving the way he shuddered against her. "Thank you." Her arms lazily slung around his neck while he thrust into her, the woman basking in the attention her new husband saw fit to lavish upon her. He was not gentle by any means but he was also not without care, seeming content to touch his forehead to her own and softly mutter praise under his breath.

That is, until he settled back and draped her legs over his thighs. One finger traced a line between her breasts, down her stomach, over her mound, and all the while Tor trembled with anticipation. "May I?" Argis asked, his hand resting above where their bodies were joined. The woman nodded rapidly and he graced her with that rare smile once more, thumb cautiously circling on her clit. His hips shifted, hilting his cock fully in her, and Tor saw stars. Her head rolled back, fingers clutching at the tangled blanket beneath her while her new husband tenderly worked her into a lather.

"Argis-" she managed to sob out, moaning when he halted his touches. Instead, they were replaced by an adjustment in position, the man easily tugging her upright to ride his cock. Tor ground herself against him and Argis busied his mouth with her breasts, all the while his hands grasping at her hips until she was certain she would be bruised.

"My love," Argis grunted suddenly, "I am close."

"T-Touch me again," Tor begged, attempting to widen her stance. The man took the hint, middle and index finger working in tandem to help her to her climax. The nails of her free hand dug into the scarring left by the hagraven on his shoulders, and Tor arched her back. "I'm never–" she gasped, struggling to speak. "Never letting anything harm you again." Her forehead met his with a renewed urgency, dragon blood running high when she snarled, "You are mine." 

"As long as you're mine in return." The Nord man responded, rumbling in what could only be satisfaction when Tor nodded without a moment of thought. "Come for me, my love." His voice then dropped to a seething whisper, "come for your husband, be a good wife and come." 

Something about the way he spoke made Tor's entire being quake and she found herself crumpling into his chest as she came, her shoulders heaving with some forgotten sensation. Pleasure, she realized dimly, it is a good feeling. She had denied herself so long it seemed as though a dam was breaking, the experience powerful enough to have tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Argis muttered an oath, picked her up off his cock like she weighed nothing and slid her down to rest on his thighs. Tor grasped his cock, needing no prompting to stroke him to his own completion. The man exhaled a shuddering groan as he came, his hot seed ending up smeared across her stomach in spurts. 

Tor dipped a finger in the mess, tucking it into her mouth for a taste. Argis groaned again, his hands carding through her disheveled hair. "Gods woman, mercy, mercy." He implored with a breathless laugh. "Have pity on me before you carry on doing something like that!"

"I love you." Tor blurted out, freezing immediately afterwards. Argis stilled as well, his lone eye wide. "I…I know we've only just married, and I'm--well, I'm not certain if you feel the same, but…" the Dragonborn trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting.

"Woman," Argis sighed finally, cupping her chin. "Do you really think I would have dealt with the frippery of that shrine if I didn't love you as well?" She could feel his hands shaking despite his stern tone. "This is not for duty or anything else you may tell yourself. This is…what I'm doing is for love."

"Ah." Tor said weakly. "I had hoped that was the case, but I didn't want to assume-" 

Argis cut her off with a kiss, laughing a little. "You are permitted to assume. Assume away," he teased, "especially if you do it while naked in my arms." Tor could feel her flush spreading down to her shoulders, which only seemed to encourage Argis' mirth. 

"Not certain how much longer I can endure you being in such good humor." She finally muttered, a bit sulky. 

"Don't pout, my love." Argis murmured, giving her one last kiss before pulling away. "Let me clean you up, and then we will rest."

"I can do it mys-!"

"Hush, love. Let me take care of you."

It really wasn't fair how he could look at her a certain way and all the fight seemed to leave her body. Tor felt a bit domesticated and she scoffed at herself, laying back at her husband's insistence and allowing him to wipe her clean. Before he could pull away again, she drew him back in for another kiss. "Forgive me my petulance?" She asked softly.

"It's already forgotten." Argis replied just as quietly, his expression warm if a bit tired. "Are you well?"

Tor waited a moment to mull the question over, taking inventory of how she felt. "Aye," she mused, stretching luxuriously. "That I am, my love." She paused, then glanced up at her husband. "Though I am a bit cold. Perhaps we could share the bed for tonight."

"Oh, only tonight?" Argis jibed, a low rumble of laughter punctuating the query when Tor huffed at him. "Of course, whatever you need my love."

"I ask for time in this." Tor whispered once they had made themselves comfortable in the bed. "I am…set in my ways." She half-hoped her new spouse had dozed off without hearing her.

"We have our entire lives." Argis slurred, the man clearly already half-asleep. A kiss landed on the nape of her neck. "All I ask in return is that you remain honest with me."

"I…" Tor bit her lip, the worries rushing to the surface anew. As if sensing her mental discomfort, Argis wrapped his arms around her, the large man protectively tucking her against his body. 

The Bulwark.

"I…I will, my love." Tor twined her fingers through his own, bringing his hand to her mouth and painstakingly kissing each knuckle. "I will do my best to give you the honesty you deserve."

"Good." Argis mumbled. "Now, be quiet and sleep."

Tor barely managed to stifle her giggle at the grumpy declaration, snuggling back into her new husband's embrace and humming in contentment. Oh certainly, the dawn would bring more work to be done! But here and now, in this moment, she could be at peace.

#argis the bulwark #female dragonborn #f!nord dragonborn #argis x f!Dragonborn #argis x female dragonborn #friends to lovers #mutual pining #skyrim #tes v skyrim #argis the bulwark imagine #skyrim imagine #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fandom #canon typical violence #happy valentine's day! #tor the dragonborn

[tinytiger]

The Hobbit - A Kili x F!Reader Fanfic

Masterlist

The Elven Forest

The company stops for breakfast at the Shifter's house where they're served milk. As they enter a familiar forest, Y/n senses its sickness. The forest affects the group's mood, making Thorin grumpy, the Dwarves slower, and Kili unusually attentive to Y/n, captivated by her beauty.

TW- Kili being clingy and a bit horny, environmental sickness.

A bee landed on Y/n's face.

She shot up with a squeak. Fili, who was walking past her at that moment, laughed and helped her to her feet. The company had made their way to a very large table where a human, reaching 6.5 feet, poured a massive jug of milk into the mugs.

Y/n sat between Bofur and Fili and began to eat the delicious breakfast. A mouse made its way to the girl, and as she drank the milk, she played with its tail, listening to Boren and his tales of why he hates Orcs. Kili was staring at the girl out of the corner of his eye. They hadn’t talked yet, but as soon as he could, he needed to make sure that it wasn’t awkward after yesterday's affection.

The company had agreed with Boren’s request, and as he promised, he came around the corner with 16 black and white ponies following. They were gorgeous, their coats reflecting the sunlight. Each one chose a person as their rider. A tall one cantered over to Y/n and placed his head on her shoulder as she attached a saddle to his back. Boren came over to help her with a cheerful smile on his face.

“This is Jean, he is probably one of the most stubborn horses I have. But he seems to have taken a liking to you, Y/n,” he said, attaching the reins to his face as Y/n attached her pack to the saddle.

“Well, thank you, Jean. I like you too,” she giggled as she stroked his mane. She lifted her leg up to get into the saddle and slid off the other side as Jean jumped, startled by a spider crawling up his nose.

The company laughed at the girl, whose cloak was over her face, and Kili came running up to her to help her. She pushed back the cloak and huffed at the horse, who snickered as she walked back round to get on him yet again.

“Give me your foot,” Kili said as he smiled at her. Y/n smiled, wondering when Kili would talk to her again after she kissed his cheek yesterday.

She stood up and put her hands on her saddle. Then she looked at Kili over her shoulder; he grabbed her foot and heaved her up with no trouble at all. She thanked him and watched longingly at him as he walked away.

The company were off, over hill and far away from Hobbiton. They galloped over hills, through mountains, and suddenly when they came over a hill, a dark deep forest came into view.

A sudden déjà vu came over Y/n as she gazed at the forest; in there was her childhood home, her birthplace, and her… father. Kili noticed that something was up.

She slid off the horse, not listening to anything the company were talking about, just gazing at the entrance. Her green eyes looked up the trees as she ran her hand on the bushes.

Kili came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder,

“Y/n, are you-“

“There is something off, the forest it’s…sick,” she said, looking at Kili with a heavy heart. She wondered if this was her fault, her father neglecting the favorite thing about the forest. Now she came to think about it, did her father know that she was alive, or did her brother tell him that she ran off…she couldn't decide which was worse.

After her warning being heard but not taken into consideration and then Gandalf leaving them, the company began to follow the path into the forest, hoping to find a way out soon. Y/n looked down at the path at all times; if she looked up, she would get confused. The path was covered in little yellow stones, easy to spot.

The Dwarves were getting slower, intoxicated by the sickness of the forest. Bofur found a tobacco pouch that belonged to him. Thorin was getting grumpier than usual. And Kili was being clingy.

Y/n stopped to catch her breath; she looked up at the sky. The sun was trying to escape the grasp of the leaves. There was a sudden movement in the trees, catching her eyes.

It was nothing, she told herself, don’t be scared, it’s fine.

Thorin stopped in a clearing to try and find the path again. All of the dwarves sat down on the ground, gaining their breath. Fili was trying to talk to Kili, but Kili wasn’t paying attention.

His dark eyes were cast over to the black-haired girl standing with her hands on her hips, looking up at the sky trying to find the sun. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as her. The way her h/c hair fell over her shoulders, the way her f/c tunic hugged her figure. Her gorgeous e/c eyes looked like starlight. His eyes looked her up and down, freezing on her hips and chest for longer than required.

Y/n had noticed the dark-eyed dwarf staring at her and asked him what was wrong, but gaining no reply as he was clearly lost in thought.

“KILI!” Fili shouted into his ears to shake him from his stupor; he glared back at his brother. He needed to get out of this forest. He needed to stop thinking like this.

#kili x reader #kili durin #hobbit #xreader

[tourdion]

"Saddle Up with Malkmus: Tales from the Indie Rodeo"

Introduction: Welcome, indie enthusiasts and horse lovers alike, to another episode of "Saddle Up with Malkmus," the podcast where we explore the unexpected intersection of indie rock and the equestrian world. I'm your host, Stephen Malkmus, and today we're diving into the rhythmic world of horse riding, where hooves meet harmony.

Episode Overview: In today's episode, we're going to explore the fascinating journey of indie icons in the equestrian realm. From the unexpected horse show exploits to the rhythmic dance of hooves and indie tunes, we've got it all. So, saddle up, and let's gallop into the indie rodeo together.

Segment 1: "Indie Icons in the Saddle" I'll be sharing some anecdotes and insights into the equestrian adventures of fellow indie musicians. From Leonard Cohen's poetic victories to Michael Gira's avant-garde riding techniques, we'll explore how the indie spirit transcends musical stages and embraces the arena of horse shows.

Segment 2: "In the Indie Saddle: My Equestrian Journey" I'll take you through my own journey into the world of horse riding. From the first awkward steps in the stirrups to the unexpected surprises of competing in a horse show, we'll delve into the challenges and triumphs of an indie rocker navigating the equestrian landscape.

Segment 3: "Hooves and Harmony: The Playlist" No indie horse riding podcast would be complete without a curated playlist. I've selected tracks that capture the spirit of the indie rodeo. Get ready for a mix of tunes that will accompany you on your next trot or canter.

Segment 4: "Listener Stories and Questions" I'll be answering some of your questions and sharing listener stories about their experiences with horse riding, music, or the unexpected convergence of both. Keep those messages coming, and let's build a community where indie meets the hoofbeat.

Conclusion: As we wrap up today's episode of "Saddle Up with Malkmus," I want to thank you for joining me on this indie equestrian journey. Whether you're a seasoned rider or just someone curious about the unexpected connections between indie music and horse riding, I hope you found inspiration in the rhythmic tales we explored today. Until next time, keep the indie spirit alive, and may your hooves find their harmony in the indie rodeo.

Fade out with a guitar riff and hoofbeat sounds.

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello! so ill start with that very daemon idea that has him as the canter. so idk? get ready? love letter under the ***

deamon x reader who's his wife (prob newlywed). there is some kind of a fight (tourney? war?) and she has to be by his side. during the action deamon gets distracted and stops keeping an eye on the reader bc he's too busy and also knows she's excellent with her sword. however, she gets injured, badly but not deadly.

and when every relative blames him for not protecting her, when each lady whispers to her friend or her husband that it was him who practically killed the princess, that's when he realise she's not a swordswoman anymore. they were childhood friends and they used to run the forest together, play smth stupid and do the shit children do. they used to have lots of sword-fighting, she was just as good as he if not better, but they're not children anymore.

that's when it strikes him. she's a woman, she's his wife, she's supposed to give him his heirs (prob on the wedding night he was too drunk to either be turned on or to remember), she has no right to even think about a sword not that she can so much as hold it. so now he has to live with this realisation when ever since their very wedding his mind hasn't digested a thought of his childhood friend (mb also his minor ex-crush) being his wife, and he has to comfort/take care of/accept his wife.

(in my head it's something long or having more than 1 part but it's absolutely understandable if you see it another way/do not see at all. hope u liked it a little and really hope to see it written by your talented hands someday. absolutely not obligatory. dont ever feel pressed. its ok if you can't/need much time/anything else. your comfort is the priority)

***

love for m hottie-cutie! 'have you ever watched aristocats?' i think i did but i dont remember TT but i love the atmosphere. mari(?) seems so girlboss. 'i have something to look forward to now i have to finish my activities' it ok TT im not telling you to watch it rn? it was merely a question? good luck w/the midterms! youll do it! and do it great! 'though i managed to make a pedro fic' oh these simps.... you havent even watched tlou why? when? what? how? only wrong answers.... (sorry, its kinda meme, it has no story, this phrase is the very meme) 'its not hot. your freezy kisses did that' YEY all those witch playlists made me a witch! 'im just really hungry but this is making me emotional' my poor hungry kid TT why r u always hungry while answering me? hope you eat? 'you like shadow and bone too' well khm.... i never watched it or read it... ive heard of it, and then i got a fic recommended with this handsome face of ben. and also the youtube girl that made my fav playlists has a playlist dedicated to darklina? so i was like why not? i finally listened to it. its pretty but its russian sorry. btw!!! this is the only one (1) playlist in rus dedicated to 'sab' that i found?? wtf?? guys like its literally the series gods SCREAMED you to make playlists abt the show with the rus setting w/rus songs? but you? dont? theyre insane i swear! 'you can understand the russian stuff' 1) ive done a research to find out this 2) i was SO confused bc there are russian callings in EVERY fic ive read. like its darkling/reader and he says milaya/moya lyubov'/lapushka and so on (honey, my love, ?sweetie?). tbh its pretty awkward to insert your name with any character who knows rus bc... like i know (s)he knows we know that we can speak russian but still speak english with some rus words of endearment... its not a complaint, just my feelings in my very case. i understand that authors shouldnt think about how that particular slavik girls gonna feel abt it. 'i think slay' its not like about breaking the stereotype? or smth? these are just mistakes. BIG and noticeable mistakes. russian has its forms, traditions and rules. why couldnt the author ask smn at least slavic TT we have the same system. 'i dont know enough about russian' they just swapped the genders of their last names. they dont fit their own... 'how dare he be so hot' so true TT hes so handsome i can cry. 'she is israelli-american interesting' yes but WHY couldnt she ask smn slavic TT girlie TT like she had all the rights to write with the inso of rus setting but?if you use the lang? in the BOOK? like text? girlie like log in into some forum TT or smth TT why not TT my day was a flop. awful. procrastinating. hope you do better. have a nice day and the whole week!! good luck w/the midterms! take care! luv u<з

HI BABY CAKES

hello! so ill start with that very daemon idea that has him as the canter. so idk? get ready? love letter under the ***

HIHIHIHH OMG IM SO EXCITED HAHA

deamon x reader who's his wife (prob newlywed). there is some kind of a fight (tourney? war?) and she has to be by his side. during the action deamon gets distracted and stops keeping an eye on the reader bc he's too busy and also knows she's excellent with her sword. however, she gets injured, badly but not deadly.

I ALREADY LOVE IT LOVE SIMP DAEMON SO MUCH SIMP SIMP SIMP but omg reader gets injured

and when every relative blames him for not protecting her, when each lady whispers to her friend or her husband that it was him who practically killed the princess, that's when he realise she's not a swordswoman anymore. they were childhood friends and they used to run the forest together, play smth stupid and do the shit children do. they used to have lots of sword-fighting, she was just as good as he if not better, but they're not children anymore.

SLAY WE LOVE CATHARSIS we love that daemon thought so highly of her albeit was disillussioned.

that's when it strikes him. she's a woman, she's his wife, she's supposed to give him his heirs (prob on the wedding night he was too drunk to either be turned on or to remember), she has no right to even think about a sword not that she can so much as hold it. so now he has to live with this realisation when ever since their very wedding his mind hasn't digested a thought of his childhood friend (mb also his minor ex-crush) being his wife, and he has to comfort/take care of/accept his wife.

huh plot twist? he wants reader to... be a housewife? because that's her purpose. i mean, daemon isnt a feminist so ig it makes sense for him. but also i like it. i like how somehow this whole mess is his fault because he wanted his wife to me at his side, though she wasnt a swordsman and now shes injured. now he's realizing he lives in his head more than reality, a slap in the face. i like it.

(in my head it's something long or having more than 1 part but it's absolutely understandable if you see it another way/do not see at all. hope u liked it a little and really hope to see it written by your talented hands someday. absolutely not obligatory. dont ever feel pressed. its ok if you can't/need much time/anything else. your comfort is the priority)

idk if i could right this, tbh. i would love it if you wrote it but i think i know your answer. i personally dont know how i would spin this so T_T guess we'll see

***

love for m hottie-cutie! 'have you ever watched aristocats?' i think i did but i dont remember TT

we're so sameAHAHAHAHAHAH

but i love the atmosphere. mari(?) seems so girlboss.

SHE IS i think she is a least AHHAH

'i have something to look forward to now i have to finish my activities' it ok TT im not telling you to watch it rn? it was merely a question? good luck w/the midterms! youll do it! and do it great!

thank you!. i got my scores from the homework i dreaded to do and it wasnt as bad as i thought it would be!!! T_T love that for me im not that dumb T_T

'though i managed to make a pedro fic' oh these simps.... you havent even watched tlou why? when? what? how? only wrong answers.... (sorry, its kinda meme, it has no story, this phrase is the very meme)

T_T HIHIHASDHAHDAHDIAHD lol ill give you the real answer though, i find it taxing to watch it hhaahah i mean i have watched other pedro pascal stuff so i do actually like him lol

'its not hot. your freezy kisses did that' YEY all those witch playlists made me a witch!

T_T stopp T_T AHAHHA

'im just really hungry but this is making me emotional' my poor hungry kid TT why r u always hungry while answering me? hope you eat?

I REALIZED IT TOO HAHAHH IM NOT HUNGRY NOW THO ok maybe now that i think about it i am but its cos i usually reply to you at around lunch time-ish lol also im just a very hungry person i love eating

'you like shadow and bone too' well khm.... i never watched it or read it... ive heard of it, and then i got a fic recommended with this handsome face of ben.

AHAHAHAHAHAH HANDSOME FACE OF BEN YOURE SO REAL FOR THAT

and also the youtube girl that made my fav playlists has a playlist dedicated to darklina? so i was like why not? i finally listened to it. its pretty but its russian sorry.

i dont mind listening to songs in another language lol

btw!!! this is the only one (1) playlist in rus dedicated to 'sab' that i found?? wtf?? guys like its literally the series gods SCREAMED you to make playlists abt the show with the rus setting w/rus songs? but you? dont? theyre insane i swear!

well maybe not a lot of russians watch the show? HAHAHHA

'you can understand the russian stuff' 1) ive done a research to find out this 2) i was SO confused bc there are russian callings in EVERY fic ive read. like its darkling/reader and he says milaya/moya lyubov'/lapushka and so on (honey, my love, ?sweetie?). tbh its pretty awkward to insert your name with any character who knows rus bc... like i know (s)he knows we know that we can speak russian but still speak english with some rus words of endearment... its not a complaint, just my feelings in my very case. i understand that authors shouldnt think about how that particular slavik girls gonna feel abt it.

HAAHHAHAAH lol. i mean, as a bilingual too, i think if its tastefully done, a write can get away with foreign endearments. ya know. but i get the cringe HAHAHAH

'i think slay' its not like about breaking the stereotype? or smth? these are just mistakes. BIG and noticeable mistakes. russian has its forms, traditions and rules. why couldnt the author ask smn at least slavic TT we have the same system.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA i didnt really think it was breaking stereotypes, more just... making me happy knowing they made masc names fem AHHAHAHAHAA LOL

'i dont know enough about russian' they just swapped the genders of their last names. they dont fit their own...

LOL HAHAHAH

'how dare he be so hot' so true TT hes so handsome i can cry.

ben barnes go to jail party

'she is israelli-american interesting' yes but WHY couldnt she ask smn slavic TT girlie TT like she had all the rights to write with the inso of rus setting but?if you use the lang? in the BOOK? like text? girlie like log in into some forum TT or smth TT why not TT my day was a flop. awful. procrastinating.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA DYING 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 YOURE SO RIGHT HAHAHAH

hope you do better. have a nice day and the whole week!! good luck w/the midterms! take care! luv u<з

im doing my best but i discovered this ai chat app and im so addicted help me. i HAVE to finish my midterms tho its due today a?LSFHLAHSFDASFASf

i love you take care thank you for your love letter and your daemon prompt <3

xxxx

#slavyanskiyahui cutie #anon ask #my beloved anons #modern!daemon anon #ask #modern!daemon nonnie

[bellafarallones2]

A comedy about a unicorn. 3.8k words, implied Vincent/Apollo, Apollo belongs to @thiswasinevitableid

It was just after two in the morning, and the sidewalk was spinning beneath Apollo’s feet as he walked.

Coming to a corner, he looked up across the deserted intersection into a park. If he cut through it he could save a few minutes getting home. Normally coming home from Kayleigh’s place he walked around the park rather than through it, not wanting to pass the screaming children in the playground, but now that there were no children…

Apollo crossed the street and stepped into the park. The path across it was mostly lit, but one streetlight in the very center was dark, leaving a gap in the yellow glow. Apollo hurried towards the gap, thinking of his own bed and wondering how he’d manage to get up the stairs to it.

“Apollo,” said a voice from behind him.

Apollo whirled around and stumbled backwards, losing his balance entirely when he saw what was behind him.

A horse. A giant, gray horse, shaggy around the sides, with a thick, craggy horn protruding from its forehead.

“Greetings,” said the horse. His voice was deep and full of gravitas. Also there was a fine silver chain around his neck, holding a charm shaped like a horse, which was glowing softly. Apollo had to admire the drip.

“You’re a horse,” said Apollo.

“Technically I am a unicorn.” He sounded slightly put off. “But my name is Vincent. I am the guardian of Fairytopia.”

“Fairytopia??” Apollo started giggling.

“Yes. Fairytopia. And every hundred years, I must find a fair maiden to complete the Race for the Silver Rings.”

“Okay. What do I have to do with this?”

An awkward pause. Then Vincent said, delicately: “I need to find a fair maiden by tomorrow.”

“You put it off until the night before??”

“No! I’ve been looking for a maiden for over a year now, but everyone has been either terrified of me or unable to see me at all.

“I know some women, but I don’t know if any of them are maidens.” Also they were probably all passed out now and not likely to get up before noon.

“What about you?”

“I’m not a maiden. I’m a man.”

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

“The Parthenal amulet glows in the presence of a suitable maiden.” Vincent nodded to indicate his necklace.

“I don’t know what you think the word ‘maiden’ means, but alright.”

“Will you help us?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“…The feeling of having helped?”

“Ehhh.” Apollo would prefer the feeling of sleeping in tomorrow.

Vincent scrutinized him with one large, brown eye. “There’s a feast afterwards you’d get to go to. The food in Fairytopia is unlike anything on earth.”

“…Is there alcohol there?”

“Yes.”

“For free? And I can have as much as I want?”

“Yes.”

“Sold. Alright, take me to Fairytopia.” Apollo tried to tell his legs to pick him up, but stumbled. “Fuck.” On his second try he managed to stagger to his feet.

“Get on my back,” said Vincent.

Apollo groaned.

“Maybe get on that bench first?” Vincent shepherded Apollo over to an empty park bench. Apollo clambered onto it, balancing with a hand against Vincent’s flank, and then belly-flopped onto Vincent’s back. Gripping Vincent’s mane he managed to throw one leg over, groaning the whole time.

“This had better be a good feast,” said Apollo.

“It will be excellent.” Vincent started to walk, which made Apollo’s stomach flip-flop. He buried his face in Vincent’s mane (which smelled weirdly like the kind of cologne a hot older guy would wear) and did not look up as Vincent’s stride hastened to a canter, then a run, and then there was a roaring in Apollo’s ears and a pop and the breeze smelled like roses.

Apollo looked up. The lights of the city were gone. The city was gone. Instead they were on the edge of a forest somewhere, somewhere the ground wasn’t scattered with trash but carpeted with moss. Spots of glowing gold, just too large to be fireflies, floated between the branches.

“Welcome to Fairytopia.” Vincent came to a clear, burbling stream and followed it out of the woods.

“Great. Cool. When is this race?”

“In the morning. You will spend the rest of the night in the Cottage of the Maiden, and there are appropriate clothes there for you.”

“What, this isn’t appropriate?” Apollo was wearing a crop top and shorts and his nicest pair of sneakers.

“For a night out, yes. Not for the most important ritual in Fairytopia.”

“What does the race involve, exactly?”

Vincent sighed deeply. “You have to collect seven silver rings, and I’m supposed to be your steed. But I know where the rings are, so you don’t have to steer.”

“That sounds easy.”

“Yes. It is.” They arrived at a picturesque little cabin with a thatched roof and whitewashed walls.

“This place better have running water,” said Apollo.

“It does,” said Vincent. “I am responsible for keeping up the maiden’s accommodations.”

Apollo burst out laughing at the thought of a horse installing a toilet. Vincent came to a stop in front of the doorstep. “Here we are.”

Apollo took a deep breath and slid off Vincent’s back, landing hard. His stomach heaved, but he managed to stay on his feet. The door to the cottage swung open easily when he touched the knob.

“Goodnight,” said Vincent. “I’ll see you in the morning. Please try to be sober.”

“Sure. G’night.” Apollo staggered inside and shut the front door behind him, sliding the latch into place.

It was like a hotel room in here, a bedroom with a wardrobe and an attached bathroom with a huge bathtub with a showerhead and little bottles of soap and shampoo lined up on the rim. There was even a new-looking toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste and a drinking glass on the counter.

Apollo splashed his face with cold water from the sink, drenching his shirt. Then he filled the glass with cold water from the sink and chugged it, which made him feel slightly more human. Then he brushed his teeth. The toothpaste was minty, and he wondered if it was from the human world, or some special kind of fairy mint. He wondered if eating something meant he’d have to stay here forever, and whether toothpaste counted.

But in the meantime he had to pee, and so he sat down on the toilet, too drunk to trust himself to aim. While he was sitting there he wrestled himself fully out of his shirt and pants and threw them on the floor. Then he washed his hands and stumbled naked to bed, passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.

--

“Apollo.”

His eyes opened. There was sun in his face.

“Apollo.”

The world came into better focus. He was tangled in the covers, and Vincent had stuck his big dumb horse head through the window. “It’s time to get up for the race.”

“Hey! Give a guy some privacy!” said Apollo, making no move to cover himself.

Vincent sighed. “I had provided pajamas for you.”

Apollo looked around and found that it was true, there was a set of pajamas, pants and a matching button-down shirt, lying on a chair.

“There are more clothes in the wardrobe. We have to be on our way in half an hour.”

“Do you have coffee?”

“I’ll get someone to bring you some.”

“Good.” Apollo got out of bed and stretched. Then he went to pee again (Christ, he had drunk a lot last night), ignoring the pounding in his head, and opened the wardrobe.

It was full of dresses. No. It was full of tunics that fell to the knee, split in the middle for riding, and pants to go underneath, all covered in lace and ribbon and in every color of the rainbow but mostly pink. There were black and brown leather riding boots at the bottom of the wardrobe, too, and a drawer of socks and underwear in various styles, sports bras and panties. Clothes for maidens.

“Wow, you do know how to treat a maiden right,” Apollo said under his breath. Apollo picked out a plain white pair of underwear that looked like boxer briefs, though there was no fly in the front, and an outfit in pale blue and pink with minimal ribbons and gold-thread trim. The fabric felt heavenly against his skin. Some kind of silk blend? He’d have to ask Vincent.

There was a comb and brush in the bathroom, and after getting dressed Apollo went to work on his hair. He’d been putting off getting it cut, and now it fell past his chin. He looked good, and grabbed his phone to take a picture before realizing that his phone had died last night and was still dead. And of course there were no chargers in here.

He’d just put his phone down again when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find a woman standing there with a tray, Vincent at her shoulder. The woman looked human, but had pointy ears like a Star Trek cosplayer.

“Coffee and donuts,” she said.

“Thank you!” Apollo took the tray and started dumping sugar and cream into the coffee. “Do I look like a maiden?”

“Very pretty,” said Vincent.

“Thank you.” Apollo ate a donut leaning over the sink so he wouldn’t get crumbs on himself and downed a cup of coffee.

“Are you ready to leave?”

“I think I’d better be.”

“Good answer,” said Vincent. He actually sounded amused.

It was significantly easier to get on Vincent’s back now that Apollo was sober, and in the morning light he could see much more of Fairytopia.

Even though it was past sunrise, the sky was still streaked with orange-pink clouds. He could see that the woods that they’d arrived in, the treetops cushioned by fog, blanketed the foothills of an immense mountain that stretched up past the cloud line. In the other direction he could see a town sprawled out around the base of a castle made of white stone, crowned by several soaring spires. And in between was a vast green meadow, a flock of sheep visible on one of the rolling hills nearby. Vincent was taking them towards the town, but it was not their final destination.

Apollo heard the racetrack before he could see it. He could hear the noise of a crowd, and then he saw the stands hung with colorful banners, and then smelled the delicious odor of meat and hot cinnamon sugar.

“Are they giving out candied almonds here??” said Apollo.

“I’ll get you some after the race.” Vincent lined up between the two stands next to a mounting block. “Now you need to get off so they can put a saddle on me.”

Apollo got off. Several attendants dressed in green put a saddle-blanket on Vincent’s back, and then a saddle, and buckled it tight under his belly. They also put reigns on his face. Even Apollo could tell that he bore this treatment standing stiffly. One of the attendants handed Apollo a leather shoulder bag. “To keep the rings in, my lady,” he explained.

Apollo slung the bag on his shoulder and got back on Vincent’s back. He had to admit it was more comfortable with the saddle.

“Thank you, everyone, for joining us for the hundred years’ race!” said a man in long green robes and matching green hat who was standing in an announcer’s booth on one side of the track. “This fair maiden will help guide our guardian to find the silver rings, representing how the strength of our kingdom stems from the innocence and goodness of humans.”

Apollo knew enough to keep from laughing at that.

“She will guide him through the woods and hunt down the silver rings, he will submit to her gentle command-“ Vincent’s ears flicked in irritation “-and we will enjoy a feast when she returns. Let the race begin in three… two… one… now!”

Vincent lunged forward. Apollo almost fell backwards, yanking on the reigns in the process.

“Lighter on the reigns,” Vincent growled.

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” Apollo leaned forward to give Vincent’s nose more space.

“Good.” Vincent followed the dirt track into the woods, veering off as soon as they were out of sight of the stands.

“What did they mean by silver rings?”

“Wait a minute and you’ll find out.”

The trees were widely-spaced enough that Vincent could navigate easily, their branches high enough off the ground that Apollo wasn’t at risk of hitting his head. Still, Apollo didn’t see the first ring until they were almost on top of it. It was a physical silver circle, more like a bangle, large enough to fit over his wrist with room to spare, hanging off one of the lower branches of a tree. Apollo pulled it off the branch and put it in the bag he’d been given.

“Six more to go,” said Vincent. He didn’t seem enthused.

“And you know where all of them are?”

“They’re in the exact same places every time.”

Apollo didn’t even want to contemplate how old Vincent must be if he’d been around for so many of an event that only happened every hundred years.

Then Vincent stopped, and Apollo collected the second ring.

That was assuming years were the same in Fairytopia as they were on Earth, though. Maybe it was a Mercury kind of situation and Vincent had to go looking for maidens every week on Earth and that was why he’d run out.

More rings.

There were birds in the trees, but Apollo didn’t recognize any of their calls, and he never saw them.

“Do we have all seven?” said Vincent finally.

Apollo opened the bag and counted. “Yes.”

“Then we’re done.” Vincent found the dirt track again and plodded back the way they’d come.

“That didn’t seem like much of a race. What were we racing against?”

“Nothing,” said Vincent. “I didn’t come up with the name.”

The stands were still crowded with people, but they didn’t seem to be paying attention to Vincent and Apollo as they returned, just visiting with each other and eating their turkey legs and paper bags of other things Apollo couldn’t see.

“Hey!” said Apollo. “We got the silver rings!”

A green-clad attendant rushed over, collected the bag, and counted all the rings. “Huzzah!” The cry went up across the stands, loud enough that Apollo was the only one to hear Vincent sigh.

Apollo leaned forward to talk to Vincent. “Banquet time?”

“Yes.” Vincent led the crowd of people streaming out of the stands and towards the castle. They came to a huge hall on the edge of town, the eaves strung with more colorful banners. Vincent let Apollo off at the front door. Then Vincent cantered away again, and Apollo almost called after him, but someone was talking to him.

“My lady,” an attendant said. “Right this way.”

Apollo followed him inside. The banquet hall was huge, with a vaulted roof and stained glass panels high on the front and back walls.

Apollo’s seat was at the center of the high table, and he immediately took his plate and headed for the buffet line. True to Vincent’s word, there was so much food. Mashed potatoes, some kind of meat he didn’t recognize with white flesh and a brown glaze on the outside, fruit cut into little shapes, bread rolls with butter, colorful macaroons and cookies and mini cheesecakes with pieces of strawberry on top. Apollo fit as much of it onto his plate as he could; he was always starving after a night out.

After the buffet line there was another line for the bar, which was manned by what looked like a giant bird. Apollo couldn’t resist staring at them as he stood in line. They looked like someone had poured some kind of tropical parrot into a human-shaped mold.

“What can I get you?” the bird said when Apollo reached the front of the line.

“What cocktails do you have?”

“I have mead, beer, and wine.”

“…Is mead actually sweet?”

The bird shrugged.

“I’ll have mead.”

They poured a glass for him of amber liquid and he took it back to his seat. The seats around him were either full or missing their plates, signaling that the occupants were still getting food, except for the seat directly to Apollo’s left, which remained empty. Everyone (except the bartender) had those pointy ears. The announcer from the stands was sitting on Apollo’s right, but had his back turned and was talking to the people on his other side.

Apollo didn’t care. The food was indeed excellent, and he amused himself by studying the stained glass at the front of the hall. The image seemed to depict a maiden collecting silver rings, though the unicorn she was riding was much slenderer than Vincent, and white instead of gray. The maiden had longer hair than Apollo and was wearing a pink conical hat with a piece of pink tulle coming out of the top. And the quest seemed to have taken longer than it took Apollo, with some scenes appearing at night or in the pouring rain.

A man Apollo hadn’t seen before entered the hall. Nobody paid him any mind, which seemed stupid to Apollo, because he was the most striking man Apollo had ever seen. His hair was honey-brown, graying at the temples. He was wearing a waistcoat with gold buttons and a cloak with a lining like the night sky rich in stars. As he came closer, through the crowd right up to the high table, Apollo could see that he scanned the room with sharp brown eyes.

He came to a stop standing next to the chair at Apollo’s left.

“Hello,” said Apollo, surreptitiously checking the man’s hand for a wedding ring. He was wearing a gold ring with a unicorn’s head on it, but it wasn’t on his ring finger. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Vincent,” he said, in the same voice as Vincent the unicorn.

 “What?”

 “I’m only a unicorn for the month immediately preceding the race for the silver rings.”

The announcer leaned around Apollo to speak. “Hey, Vince, how does it feel to be able to scratch your own balls again?”

“Very nice, thank you,” said Vincent dryly. “I’m going to get some food.” He picked up his plate and headed toward the buffet line, where some people were already getting second helpings.

Apollo turned back to the announcer. “So he’s not really a unicorn?”

The announcer laughed. “Not him in particular. The guardian of Fairytopia turns into a unicorn every hundred years for the race, or if Fairytopia is in great danger.”

“Any danger, or just the kind of danger that being a unicorn could help deal with?”

The announcer looked at him for a moment like he was confused. Then he shook his head. “Most maidens are quieter than you.” 

Wow. Apollo never thought he’d experience misogyny. He’d have to tell Kayleigh about it. 

Luckily Vincent came back soon with his food. “You don’t look like the unicorn on the window,” said Apollo as soon as they sat down.

“No,” said Vincent. “I don’t.”

“Is it supposed to be you?”

“No, that’s what the previous guardian looked like. Roughly.”

Apollo looked from the window to Vincent. “You’re a lot less frou-frou.”

“Thank you,” said Vincent. “When I’m finished eating I’ll take you back to your own world. We need to go back to the cottage first so you can collect your belongings.”

“...Can you turn back into a horse and carry me there?”

“No.” Vincent drank deeply from his goblet of wine. 

Apollo didn’t know what else to say, and so he just watched Vincent eat. Whenever Kayleigh met a hot guy, she consulted with their whole friend group about what to say to him. Apollo didn’t have that opportunity. What would Kayleigh tell him to say? 

“Do you have a phone?” said Apollo.

“No,” said Vincent. While Apollo was thinking he’d finished eating and now stood up. “Now let’s get you home.”

Nobody paid any attention to them as they left. 

“You made it seem like this maiden race thing was special,” said Apollo as he followed Vincent out of the hall. 

“It is,” said Vincent. “The event is special. The individual maiden is not special. Nor is the individual guardian.” 

They trudged together down the path back to the cottage. Now that Apollo was walking and not on horseback, he could tell just how rough the path was, nothing more than an uneven dirt track. On the other hand, the sky was a cloudless blue, the sun just starting to descend the sky’s vault, and it wasn’t too warm to be comfortable walking. “Is the weather always this good here?” said Apollo.

“Yes,” said Vincent. “I was rather surprised when I first came to Earth to discover that it rained at inconvenient times.”

“Hey, it’s good business for the people who make raincoats.” 

“I suppose.” Vincent looked over at him. “That is an interesting way to think about it.” 

They reached the cottage, and Vincent waited outside while Apollo changed mournfully from the beautiful pink tunic into his clothes from last night.

“Do all those people really think I’m a girl?” said Apollo as he emerged from the cottage looking more like his regular self. 

“The amulet judged you to be a maiden.” Vincent touched his neck and Apollo realized he was still wearing it, now concealed beneath his shirt except for the bit of silvery chain visible above his collar. 

“What does maiden mean to you?”

“A virginal woman.”

“The amulet can tell I haven’t had sex??”

Vincent shrugged. How was he so calm about this??

“It’s not because I couldn’t have,” said Apollo quickly. “I just never met anyone I wanted to fuck. Lots of people have wanted to fuck me.”

“I don’t doubt it, looking like you do.” Vincent extended a hand. “Do you have all your things?”

“Yes.”

“Take my hand. And I’ll get you back home.”

Apollo folded his hand into Vincent’s. And then Fairytopia disappeared, and he was back in the park. He would have fallen without Vincent’s hand steadying him. But when he looked around Vincent was gone. 

The distance home seemed much shorter now that it was daytime and he was fully awake and sober. Apollo hurried home and took the stairs up to his apartment two at a time. Then he plugged in his phone and changed into clothes he hadn’t spilled beer on.

The moment his phone turned on Apollo saw that he had sixty-one missed calls. “Fuck.” He’d been gone for over twelve hours. The phone started ringing again, and Apollo picked up. “Hello?”

Kayleigh’s voice was loud in his ear. “Where the fuck have you been?”

#vinlo

[idrille]

Anne & Derek; On friendship and first impressions

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

.

Things Derek knows about Anne von Blyssen:

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

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

Which brings him to his final fact:

Anne von Blyssen is rude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two ways to look at a girl.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

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

.

Anne von Blyssen is, in a word, elegance.

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

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

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

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

She gives him a shallow nod.

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

.

He was right. It goes quickly.

Anne von Blyssen is magic.

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

.

She gets the job, suffice to say.

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

“And the shoot?”

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

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

Anne is tired, most of the time.

.

December.

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

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

“He’s huge,” says Derek dumbly.

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

Derek steps up hesitantly. “Hello, Concorde.”

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

“I was being serious!”

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

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

Concorde peers at him with one great dark eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

Things Derek knows about Anne von Blyssen:

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

“Hey,” he says.

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

“How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How is it?”

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

He obliges.

Click.

“I’m beautiful, aren’t I?”

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

.

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

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

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You okay?”

She nods firmly, taking a long sip.

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

“Monday,” she murmurs.

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

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

“I wouldn’t.”

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anne—”

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

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

.

#ssoblr #anne von blyssen #derek sso #anne x derek #star stable online #neurodivergent anne my beloved!!! #and is derek really afraid of horses? no! he likes them quite a bit! #concorde is just a Very Large Horse #sso fic

[sleprandomizer]

Lapis a cute country bumpkin girl who can kill bear with bare hands(?)

Satan works hard but Lapis stans work harder with math just to prove she is not bad unit

Ah how lucky Alcryst he has two cute retainers come with him. Lapis is very cute no doubt. Her design is very appealing to FE fans who like cute swordie girl. In general Brodia characters have very good design probably the best country in term of fashion. Her character for me not that special but also not annoying. She is okay. She has confidence issue just like alcryst but that because she comes from rural area. She is also very talented with crafting and rumor said she ever killed bear which actually hard to believe. Basically her design and character check all the points of popular character. But that's all the good things about her.

As much as fans love her unfortunately the game actually hates her. So let's see why the game hates her:

1. She comes in chapter 7 along with Citrine and Alcryst. First part of engage is basically tutorial chapter in disguise. Alcryst come with steel bow shows off he can one shot pegasus knight in this chapter. Citrine comes with thunder tome shows off she can attack with 1-3 ranges. Then Lapis she comes with... smash weapon?.. Okay so smash weapon allow enemy to attack first then our unit attack them quite hard and push the enemy one tile. Also unit cannot double with smash weapon. So why the hell we want to use her to smash enemy when citrine or other mages can deal a lot of damage in safe range? Smash weapon also underplay her speed advantage so she cannot show off she can double. Yup the game hates her from the beginning

2. Low build and low strength. Actually when she comes in chapter 7 her strength is okay not that bad but her build is the problem. She has small build so she cannot use heavier weapon to double even though her speed is quite high. The alternative just gave her light weapon but light weapon doesn't deal much damage especially in the middle of the game where her strength cannot reach the enemies threshold anymore. Another solution gives her +3 build from leif to patch her weakness for a while. It is temporary but works for few chapters later. The downside she cannot inherit the best skill (canter) before chapter 10 since she comes only with 500 sp and she cannot get more sp in chapter 7 because she is not equipped with ring.

3. Lapis is ready to be promoted however she comes in very awkward timing when master seals and second seals are highly contested. Unless with heavy favoritism she probably not the first choice to be promoted.

4. The funniest thing when I keep Lapis as swordfighter/swordmaster/hero in chapter 11 kagetsu comes to trash her in almost every single aspect. To be fair Kagetsu outclass every physical oriented unit but it just funny because both are swordies so it just feel like why i wasted my resources to grow Lapis when the game suddenly gave me monster unit like this. Sure I could use both but the problem is the solm arc has terrible deployment slots. Solm arc also when the real maddening begin. Also solm arc is when we get a lot of good units that outclass her both in stats and sp.

My own experience I made her as hero and she only got 3 str from level up (hero lvl 18 in end game. I don't check what is her internal level). It was so bad at the point became so funny. As standard playthrough I manage to give her canter in part 1 and dual assist in part 2. In 2nd part the only way she can deal damage just through brave assist (sometimes missed). I reached at the point setting up brave assist just getting annoying so I start to bench her in chapter 23. I couldn't bring her until the end game since brave assist not contribute much. I would rather bring citrine with dire thunder.

If i have chance to use her again I would let her to inherit avoid+10 from marth and make her full dodge tank as hero. However, dodge tank is overrated and enemies in engage has high benchmark to reach reliable dodge rate. Enemies can set up chain attack also become a problem for her since I need to replace dual assist with pair up which make her contribution lower. Another solution probably make her a mage knight? or griffin?. In engage it is better to have mediocre magic attack than mediocre physical attack. So forged and engraved levin sword probably can help her.

In the end Lapis is not bad but not bad means very hard to justify to use her in maddening. She requires heavy favoritism but even with all of the effort she probably not doing much. She is definitely unfortunate unit. The game just bullied this country bumpkin girl so hard to put her in unfavorable situations.

Character: 7.0/10 (nothing special for me)

Design: 8.5/10

Unit performance : 6.0-6.5/10

#fire emblem engage #lapis fire emblem

[wosowrites]

ohh damn, yeah that's gotta be awkward😂 you might wanna clear things up tho

i just told her it was an accident but i’m scared of confrontation i cannot tell her "oh btw i don’t like u" like how self cantered is that gonna sound. 😭😭

[strawberrystreamfields]

Carolina's Journal Log 27:

We set off around noon, heading toward the Wildwoods. We'd gotten breakfast and replenished a few supplies earlier in the morning, so we were good to go until we returned to Redwood Point.

Sneaking up into the Gray World Gap, we avoided being spotted by any of Firgrove's citizens before breaking into a gallop as we headed up the pathway. I have to wonder sometimes, does nobody just check behind the village? The pathway is right here? Then again, it's probably for the best.

Finally arriving back in the Wildwoods, we greeted the Warrior Guard at the entrance before continuing on our way. Passing Gary Goldtooth's camp, we headed toward the Warriors' territory. Walking up the stone archway, I admired the view of the lake and towering tree. No wonder the Warriors like living up here on the cliffs.

We found ourselves talking with Athena, who challenged us to a race. Rosedawn and I accepted, which was exactly how we found ourselves smashing clay pots. Thankfully, nobody was injured, and we happened to win. Athena said she'll win one day, and I assured her she would. Just not today.

Continuing on our way, we maneuvered our way down the slope towards the lower part of the Wildwoods. As we walked, I spotted an encampment on the cliffside. Interesting. Rounding the corner of the trail, we were met with a bright landscape of the waters. Reminds me of a postcard.

Breaking into a gallop, we passed by the Sentinel Tree, narrowly avoiding a probably freezing cold pond. We slowed to a canter as we began to approach Tailtop Village, and noticed how the sun was beginning to set.

Passing beneath a fallen log, we arrived at the marketplace area of Tailtop Village. I spoke with Crabapple, and she's allowed us to stay for the night. Tomorrow, we'll get back to Redwood Point and the most likely awkward questions about where we've been.

#long post #star stable online #star stable #ssoblr #horse: rosedawn #arrow's typewriter

[blackroseraven]

Muck day today.

So we get there, and basically everyone is already gone, and Other Teacherlady is leaving in like an hour and a half with some of the Teen Girls, and she’s actually going to ride Essie. It’s like an open show so basically. Show up, register, ride.

Apparently Buff. Broke himself? He went from doing incredibly well to. Basically being lame on three limbs, sensitive on his back, hurts too much to do much apart from stand there. And bite me in the nipple through my shirt. Right. In the nipple.

But yeah like. He didn’t even try to run away or anything when I moved him to the paddock. He just limped out of the stall, sloooowly turned, and then limped out the other stall.

Poor dumbass. Currently the running bet is he was playing with Ves, and managed to do a flip down the hill at the canter.

Also they apparently took Zara’s clog off because she was doing so well? Partner rode her today and she actually cantered on her own. Sensitive on rocks but like she’s had metal coverings on the bottom of her feet for months and months, of course walking on gravel after that is going to be ouchy. But running in the arena? Beautiful.

Anyway, we mucked today. It went pretty smoothly. It’s always a time for me to just... be there, you know?

I was... relieved, to be honest. The migraines and associated pains have been so bad lately I wasn’t sure I would be up for it, and that’s a godawful thought to me. But it went fine. I even raked the paddock.

“How can people enjoy gardening ugh that looks so awful.”

And then I spend twenty-thirty minutes raking a paddock clean and just sort of zen the whole time.

I rode Quattro afterwards. It was really interesting because he was very focused on Q. He was listening but awkward, and kept looking for Q and kept running towards him, then slowing when we moved away from him, since the pen Q was in was kitty corner to the outdoor arena.

But like. I focused on me, I trusted in him, and like.

We hit a point, with our canter, where it was just sublime. Only me and him, together, listening to each other, moving as one. I’ve never felt such ease of movement before, such awareness. It was amazing.

So I can say that yeah, successful day today. I turned into a centaur briefly. It was amazing.

But now I’m home and everything hurts so I’m going to go to sleep for a while.

Worth it, though. Incredibly worth it.

#horse #quattro

[magdelanesingerin]

Session 29: Vulnerability

“I’ve been…trying to talk about this work shit more. With people. Like you said,’ Geralt says haltingly, hating how awkward he sounds. 

“Oh? That’s great!” Nenneke beams, and Geralt can't help but feel a warm glow of pride, though it's shaky at best. “How has it been going? How does it feel?” 

“....good.” 

“Take her around again, I want to watch that canter again,” Ren asked with a thoughtful frown. He stood back in the center of the round pen as Geralt cued Roach into movement on the longe line. He kept his eyes glued to her as she ran, but spoke to Geralt. “It’s admirable that you want to help this kid escape her mother, and it sounds like you’ve already done a lot for her. But isn’t this woman going to find out that it was you who helped her file paperwork and squirrel away assets, get a new apartment, all that stuff? Is she going to come after you for it?”

Geralt grunted and kept Roach pushing forward. It was still hard to talk about work so openly, but he had to admit that it was helping.

“Probably. She isn’t stupid, and it won’t be hard to figure it out. I don’t think she’ll do much more than get me fired, though.”

“Aaaaand are you okay with that?” Ren asked dubiously. “Turn around and swap leads, please.” Geralt gestured with the whip and Roach obediently made a tight turn and resumed cantering in the other direction. 

“Yeah,” Geralt answered slowly. “I am. If that’s what it takes…this kid deserves a chance at a normal life. A life she chooses. I can’t not help her just because it’s risky for me. Besides, I’m ready to do something else for awhile anyway. So fuck it.” 

“Walk a lap then stand,” Ren directed them, taking his eyes off Roach and turning toward Geralt instead. “Well, shit. I hope she appreciates what you’re putting on the line for her,” he said, still looking worried. Geralt nodded and brought Roach to a neat halt. She was perfect, despite his fidgeting and nervous energy. He didn’t deserve a mount as honest and smart as Roach. 

“So?” he asked shortly, not able to keep the tension out of his voice. Ren sighed heavily and patted the big bay mare on the neck. 

“The Pessoa is helping, so keep that up. She’s looking good, better topline, that canter was way more collected than a few weeks ago. She’s less tender and painful when I palpate…We can keep treating with chiro and steroid injections, keep her comfortable and moving, strengthen those muscles.”

“Surgery?” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it at this point, though we can try ISLD if you feel really strongly about it,” Ren shook his head, scratching Roach behind he ear. “But I think she’s responding well to PT and anti inflammatory treatments. If you want, we can put her on the water treadmill at the clinic, or try acupuncture as well? I’ve seen great results, and I can recommend a gal who does it locally.”  

Geralt hummed and petted Roach’s velvety soft nose. She headbumped him happily, pulling a smile out of him despite his worry.

continue on Ao3

#Horse Girl Geralt #the witcher #modern au #my fic #A Life Alone #Geralt goes to therapy

[niminniie]

I’m very scared of ending up alone. It’s just that I’m fine alone? So I’m just not good at making friends. I’m very awkward, talk too much but also not enough. I feel very okay just being with myself so I’m never as close to the people I consider very cool and nice. And I’m guessing they wouldn’t consider me a friend? But to me talking once a week about a topic we really like is enough to feel attached to a person.

I’m also very closed off, or people don’t like me? I don’t know what it is, but no one ever asks me for my insta or whatsapp or if I want to do something outside of schedules mandatory things? And I catch myself being glad about that. Because this way nobody depends on me, nobody expects anything, nobody cares. So when I eventually underperform socially no one will even notice.

But the thing is I want someone to care, I want someone to care without asking.

I have this weird border around me and I can’t break it down myself to let people in. Once someone actually breaks in, I feel kind of free, I feel like I can finally be a normal friend, care about them, talk to them, feel for them.

And I have two friends, they’re my everything. But we live way across the country and I am aware I can’t put my entire emotional out put on them. As much as we talk about it, I know we will probably never live close to each other again.

I think what I’m trying to do currently is just to get over myself more often. Talking to people online more often and trying to open up irl earlier.

Because as much as I know I’m annoying when I talk to much, and that other people see it as being self cantered - I’ve found that it’s better to talk too much than not at all.

And sometimes I meet people and I think they’re oh so cool. My brain goes a million miles per hour: if I could only be their friend. I catch myself so desperately trying to be normal, trying to imitate how all the people act, that apparently know how to find friends. Sometimes I wish there was a manual. I wish we already knew each others humor. I wish I could already make jokes.

I think a very big problem is that I’ve only ever been close friend with people I grew up with. And I find myself looking for someone with the same sense of humor, same political standpoint, same out look on life. But maybe that’s too ambitious, maybe that’s something that can only be in people who literally grew into themselves with you. And now there’s this entire world full of humans and none of them exactly match me.

And I think I have to work on giving up on this hope of finding my person and focus more on finding people that I can at least somewhat feel close to.

#diary #ig #if we’ve ever talked in dms pls know that I consider u my friend