#cecilia rider

[sidesteppostinghours]

another successful heist! this clearly calls for celebratory kisses!

thank you for allowing us to borrow kat, @autistic-sidestep :D

#i saw that kat and sura were up for grabs for ockiss week and SPRINTED to medibang #i had to stop myself from doing more because this was getting away from me #other than that hand. sorry ceci. rectangle hand :( #i love these two #i would not trust them near my valuables #cecilia rider #nmoc: kat aakster #sidestep #fhr #ockiss24 #pulp draws

[autumnfangirler]

👀 mindscapes u say ?

the minute i saw this ask this popped into my brain

insanity will go under the cut :)

step being step, and them being telepaths, i always thought they had ways to protect their mindscape just in case something happened, so those are going to be added along with the actual descriptions of the mindscape! ill add a bit of what their thoughts sound/feel like because it goes hand in hand for me

Caine- their mindscape is a mix of both the farm and the rangers HQ, because those two were the most fomative places in caine learning what to do and how to be. for a long time they werent anything but a vessel for what others wanted. his mindscape will shift depending on what caine associates the person with the most(fun fact, ortega is more or less at the midway point between the farm and the rangers. it makes for,,, an interesting look to his mindscape). the only thing that doesnt change, though, is that it always feels strangely impersonal, like hes viewing his own mind in a third person perspective. their mind is firm yet adaptable, and while his shields arent,,,,the greatest, they dont need to be. he keeps track of the mental feel of anybody in their brain, and arranges something accordingly. whatever seems to be a particular persons weakpoint, hell pick up on and project. its difficult to find anything in their brain (that sounds like an insult but i Swear its not) since its bare of more personal objects or revealing factors. they use their observations and skill to make sure nobody can do much to their brain– just like a fight, find his opponents weakness and take advantage of it to win.

i always saw his thoughts as a mix of ortega and chens, most of them being short and clipped, but restless. hell often get lost in them, though hes always aware of whats going on around him. their imagination is surprisingly active, and they also come with a healthy dose of overthinking :D

Cyrus- i was mentally shaking your hand when you talked about cyrus mindscape. the core of his mind is exactly what you described; its a blaze, with near welding-torch focus towards its victims. youll be burned if you try to get close. but hes making sure nobody reaches that far. the surrounding area is a icy and cold, giving anybody inside absolutely nothing. hes laid tricks, of course: fading tracks in the snow, an odd rustle of bushes here or there, but mostly speaking its entirely barren. its a test of endurance, and hes depending on people failing from the environment before they can do any real damage. only the people who know him or are observant enough can figure out which way to go. as a little bonus tidbit: prehb cyrus' mindscape was a forest in midday, where the heat was just intense enough to feel it beating on your back. there are still remnants of that in his current mindscape, though the trees are fallen over and theres no sun to be found.

his thoughts are very final, for lack of better word. theres hardly room for doubt in them, though often times he'll ruminate on an idea to make sure everything is up to his satisfaction. despite the outer shell of his mindscape, his thoughts Do feel warm, but its more like friction burn

Cecilia- her mind is surprisingly open, and it is showy. its a museum, and when you enter theres a velvet carpet with those massive marble stairs in the middle and a beautiful chandelier overhead. every floor has paintings of things shes done, with the first few floors consisting entirely of her proudest moments, including the sidestep ones. im sure theres at least one painting of the nanosurge in there, she didnt like the fact that nobody knew she stopped it. there are some more quieter, but still happy memories when people go up, ones with ortega, argent, herald, and more. theres an uneasy feeling at about this point, though. the farther up they go, the stronger that feeling grows, to the point where the mental pressure could crush them completely. ceci doesnt need tricks like the other two do; she exercises power as her means of defense. its coupled with more disturbing paintings too, ones that depict things like the farm and the void. the lights get dimmer, theres less exhibits, and the final floor is just. empty. empty, and utterly lonely. what are you doing up here? theres nothing for you.

shes in the same boat as ortega, aka her thoughts Never shut up. shes creative and excitable, and its easy to get wrapped up in her thought processes. there doesnt tend to be repetition or circling, she doesnt stay on the same thought for very long.

Cynthia- you know the "you... are... lost in memories" line in rebirth? thats what cynthias mindscape is like. its a house thats an amalgamation of every home shes visited before: tia elenas, anathemas, and of course ortegas. it invites nostalgia. every object sends a person into memories, using the same system that nightmare loops do, but kinder. the memories are wrong, though. faces can get blurred, voices are distorted, and touch is especially difficult to get right. it can be disorienting to experience these loops, and they become nauseating if you spend too long in them. the house itself is a maze, and it feels like it goes on forever. none of the rooms repeat itself, but they cant be used as a marker either, because it never seems like you can go back to the same room you were in before. thats how cynthia protects herself– nothing is the same, everything is a trap, and when a person falls for it, she can safely extract them from her mind.

her thoughts are long, slow, and careful, and she often goes back to earlier thoughts to consider them further. her thoughts are twitchy too, theyre easily affected by her environment. theyre warm though, and i imagine feels like somebody reading a story to you

#fhr #caine lynzal #cyrus becker #cecilia rider #cynthia garcia #i spent too much time on this and i have 0 regrets #cynthias mindscape is a prettier backrooms send tweet #cant wait for canon to break into my house and wreck all of these headcanons #this wasnt proofread and i couldnt bring myself to do so #so im sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes or just. straight up incomplete sentences

[quirkeduptransguy]

why is it nearly impossible it feels like to find many decent quality blood bros shows from like 2003-2005 but you can find like a bajillion ones from like 2002 or 2006-2007. thats cray cray that era has their like most popular albums

#evil neighing compilation #like pleaseee. i need to see my sweet girls fuckings greatest hits and the shame #also. ive never seen them do i know where the canaries and crows go or 6 nightmares at the pinball masquerade??? #tbh i dont like the former that much but i dont remember much about the latter that makes it so hard to come across #its not long like usa nails and doesnt require a ton of extra instruments like every breath is a bomb #wait is it long. #not too bad its like 4 minutes long but shorter than cecilia #i can sooort of see why they dont play it that much now #HOWEVER. why not the other one i mentioend #well it. honestly isnt my fave by A Long Shot but its still a very good song imo and theres nothing abd about it so like #wait let me check smth #wait it says they NEVER played it live lmao??? #come on. cant that status go to like rat rider or smth that cant be anyones favourite song #wait THEYVE DONE PINK TARANTULAS???? AT ALL?????? #win for me

[specialagentartemis]

tell me more about classic filk i know a few songs but never got deep into it

Heck YEAH

"Filk" is music (often but not always folk music-style, often but not always song parodies to the tune of famous pre-existing songs) about sci-fi, fantasy, and other fannish topics. Filk circles are popular events at science fiction conventions, and that's really where the genre started. The word "filk" actually arose from a typo in a convention program once, and people just rolled with it ever since!

Some of the most iconic albums in the filk world are the anthology albums "Minus Ten And Counting" (songs about space exploration and the real-life space program), "Carmen Miranda's Ghost" (songs about sci-fi space shenanigans and space ghosts), and "Finity's End: Songs of the Station Trade" (songs set in the world of CJ Cherryh's Alliance-Union novels, and my personal favorite. I've never read any of CJ Cherryh's books, but these songs paint such a vivid world.) "Space Heroes and Other Fools" is another big one, it's more hit-or-miss for me but it's iconic. Other really good and foundational ones are "Divine Intervention" by Julia Ecklar, "Avalon is Risen" by Leslie Fish, and "We Are Who We Are" by Vixy & Tony.

I lean more towards sci-fi and space than fantasy, but fantasy and paganism are huuuugely popular filk topics too.

Some of the most popular names to look into include Leslie Fish (intensely prolific, barely a fraction of her work is on any streaming or music service), Julia Ecklar (famous for her "ose," the filk-world word for sad songs - because they're "ose, more-ose, and even more-ose), Juanita Coulson, Kristoph Klover, Vic Tyler (who just recently died :( rest in peace), Duane Elms, Kathy Mar, Bob Kanefsky, Alexander James (trans, with lots of filk under his previous name as well), Vixy & Tony, and Seanan McGuire. (I like Seanan McGuire's filk music better than her books, hah.) Some other great ones include Cat Faber (most acapella), Astrisoni, The PDX Broadsides, Kari Maaren, and Sassafrass (also mostly acapella. Includes Ada Palmer). Heather Dale, Tom Lehrer, and Jonathan Coulton are kind of honorary filkers too haha.

The best place to get the ones from 80s and 90s cassettes are on the Internet Archive or Youtube; a few filkers who are more currently active have their stuff on Bandcamp.

And I'll leave you with a few of my Favorite Ever filk songs:

"Sam Jones" by CJ Cherryh and Leslie Fish

"Pushin' the Speed of Light" by Julia Ecklar and Anne Prather

"Chickasaw Mountain" by Leslie Fish

"Fire in the Sky" by Jordan Kare

"The Phoenix" by Julia Ecklar

"Freedom of the Snow" by Leslie Fish

"Burn it Down" by Vixy & Tony

"Hope Eyrie" by Leslie Fish, or this Minus Ten And Counting version

"Rocket Rider's Prayer" by Kristoph Klover, Ernie Mansfield, and Cecilia Eng

"Dawson's Christian" by Duane Elms, performed by Vic Tyler or Vixy & Tony

"Somebody Will" by Sassafrass

"Chances & Choices & Fortunes & Fates" by Astrisoni

... my tastes lean sentimental and ose but I swear there's a lot of very funny filk out there too

"Never Set the Cat on Fire" by Frank Hayes (a famous one)

"Banned From Argo" by Leslie Fish (an INFAMOUS one)

"Don't Push That Button" by Duane Elms and Larry Warner

"No More SF Cons" by Juanita Coulson

"One More Ose Song" by B. J. Willinger

everything Bob Kanefsky writes

#asks #book--wyrm #filk #music

[godzilla-reads]

What to Read if You Didn’t Like Fourth Wing, but Love Dragons

⬆️ The Temeraire series by Naomi Novik has everything you need when it comes to politics and war and dragons with riders. It’s very in-depth and focuses a lot on the dragons and their riders.

⬆️ You want romance? Try The Last Dragon by Jane Yolen and Rebecca Guay, where a young healer and an unfortunate hero have to team up to save the MC’s village.

⬆️ You want something with a strong female lead? Maybe not as keen on the romance of it all? Try Patricia C. Wrede’s Dealing with Dragons. There’s an unconventional princess who longs to just live with dragons instead of becoming betrothed.

⬆️ Two books with fantastic dragons and Joust has some cool rider dynamics. HTTYD has a lot of different dragons and shows a dynamic that’s different than the movies.

⬆️ Dragon’s Deep by Cecilia Holland is one of my favorite stories so far in this anthology and it insinuates an interesting relationship between our hostage and the dragon.

⬆️ If you’re interested in a woman falling in love with a dragon, check out Love in a Time of Dragons by Tanith Lee. It’s different, but in a good way.

⬆️ Be honest, you’re just interested in the smutty characters and less interested in the politics. Try anything by Katee Robert.

If you want any more recommendations, even oddly specific ones, my ask box is always open!

#godzilla reads #book recs #book recommendations #bookworm #bookish #dragon books #bookwyrm #booklr #book blog

[ypsilonzeta1]

Non è facile invecchiare con garbo.

Bisogna accertarsi della nuova carne, di nuova pelle,

di nuovi solchi, di nuovi nei.

Bisogna lasciarla andare via, la giovinezza, senza

mortificarla in una nuova età che non le appartiene,

occorre far la pace con il respiro più corto, con

la lentezza della rimessa in sesto dopo gli stravizi,

con le giunture, con le arterie, coi capelli bianchi all’improvviso,

che prendono il posto dei grilli per la testa.

Bisogna farsi nuovi ed amarsi in una nuova era,

reinventarsi, continuare ad essere curiosi, ridere

e spazzolarsi i denti per farli brillare come minuscole

cariche di polvere da sparo. Bisogna coltivare l’ironia,

ricordarsi di sbagliare strada, scegliere con cura gli altri umani, allontanarsi dal sé, ritornarci, cantare, maledire i guru,

canzonare i paurosi, stare nudi con fierezza.

Invecchiare come si fosse vino, profumando e facendo

godere il palato, senza abituarlo agli sbadigli.

Bisogna camminare dritti, saper portare le catene,

parlare in altre lingue, detestarsi con parsimonia.

Non è facile invecchiare, ma l’alternativa sarebbe

stata di morire ed io ho ancora tante cose da imparare.

- Cecilia Resio, “Le istruzioni”

[bradshawsbitch]

horsemanship | rhett abbott x reader

disclaimer: first time writing for darling rhett, please give feedback I love hearing from y’all! also let me know if you want a part 2 where they fuck on the meadow cause I’m down for that.

warnings: me waxing poetic about horses I guess! gn!reader, fluff

description: after Royal takes a nasty tumble, and the cattle needs moving - who better to help rhett work than you?

tags for people who might enjoy this: @theharddeck @lt-bradshaw @rhettabbotts @roosterforme @mak-32

It was early morning. For some it might even still be late night, some stumbling home along lonely paths - frightfully lost in their mindless stupor. It’d never occur to judge those for whom this hour was late, it was enviable. Living life to the fullest, taking all that it has to offer - that had to be admirable, right? But this hour was early, not late.

Stifling a yawn, bleary eyes searched for those perfect pair of jeans - the ones that were worn and comfortable for a day in the saddle. A worn long-sleeved t-shirt adorned your upper body already, along with a beat up dark green crew neck jumper. Finding the jeans, doing them up slowly and finding a suitable belt and shoes - you grabbed your water bottle and gear and headed out to the stables, grasping a baseball cap from the hanger by the door.

It had been late last night when Royal Abbott called your residence. It was rare that Royal ever asked for favors, so you knew it must've been rather dire. There had been a storm the previous night, and it seemed as if his cattle might've gotten spooked at the thunder - and so they had migrated to the wrong field for the season. He would've moved them himself, but he'd taken rather a nasty tumble earlier, and whilst he was certain he could make it - Cecilia would likely kill him if he tried. He grumbled in to the receiver that Perry and Rhett could probably manage it on their own if you couldn't help, and you heard Cecilia scowling in the background. A third rider would help if there were strays. She was of course right. So with a smile you'd hung up the phone, eager to spend the day with one of Royals' sons.

Growing up surrounded by all types of animals, you'd learnt early that a lot could be learnt from them. They signal clearly what they’re feeling - you just have to be perceptive enough to pick up on them, a notion that not many people seemed to hone in on these days. Everything had to be done efficiently and fast, which left little room for interpreting a live animals feelings. Animals expressed their feelings without regard, and you figured humankind could learn something from studying them.

Horses especially, are one of the most expressive animals there is. To the uninitiated they might seem like they just eat grass and swish their tails to lazily swat away flies, but if you knew their language you could tell a lot about them. Their signals were so subtle, the flick of an ear, the widening of the eyes, a shake of the head or a lick and chew all meant something different. You knew that you could tell a lot about a man from how he treated his horse, and how his horse treated him.

Royals’ steed trusted his rider, the rider was his leader and the horse seemed confident that Royal would not lead him astray. They were companions, with an understanding that not much more was between them than that.

Perry’s horse ignored his calls, probably because he could tell that in Perry’s eyes - the horse was just a means to an end. A way to get from point A to point B, and a tool to get his job done. It wasn’t that Perry mistreated the animal, it was just that Perry lacked the soul to truly understand his horse in the deeper way that others could. According to you, it said something of his character.

And then there was Rhett. His horse should hate him, considering he had a red mare. Mares were notorious for their mood, and red ones were considered the worst in the mood department. Mares seldom let people touch them, and if they did you would probably get a little nip in the side, an annoyed stomp of the hoof - or a high pitched whinny to let you know that she was not likely to do as you asked - unless you asked very pretty.

Rhett’s mare didn’t like a soul in the world except Rhett. When he called her name she came trotting, ears perked up forward and a low, comforting neigh always welcomed him. He had built such trust with his mare, that he could ask her of anything and she’d ask almost no questions. She still had her days, after all - she was still a mare. It was in her blood. But on the days she figured she knew best, Rhett took it in stride - often with a laugh and a smile if she got a bit cheeky with him, giving him a little buck or a kick of the leg as he spurred her on.

Growing up near Rhett you’d seen the blood sweat and tears he’d put in to make his mare trust him. You’d lost count of the times he’d landed on his back in the gravel, and always getting up with a smile “I’m sorry, sweetheart - I asked the wrong way didn’t I?” It made your heart clench. He knew that it was never the horses fault if there was a miscommunication, he hadn’t asked the right question. He’d started working her from the ground, in one of the round pens, to gain her trust in him to lead her. She was skittish at first, and very stubborn. But Rhett took it all in stride, speaking softly, moving slowly and taking it all in her time.

You think maybe that’s why you fell in love with Rhett. How he treated his mare spoke volumes about his ability to love, to cherish, to listen and to understand. He was attentive, he had a soft soul that gave so much to others and asked for so little back. You could tell he wished that someone would put in enough time to truly understand him too, the way he understood his mare. As you saddled up your beautiful buckskin, you couldn’t help but wish that he’d let that someone be you.

As if the animal beside you could tell that you were deep in thought, he gently nudged you with his muzzle. It was his way of saying - so you’ve saddled and bridled me, attached my saddle bags and gear, are you going to get on today? Chuckling, you placed your baseball cap on your head, put your boot in the stirrup and hoisted yourself easily up on his back. You gave your horse and appreciative pat before gently smacking your lips to make him walk. As you rode towards the Abbott ranch, the sun had started to drown the pastures in a pale orange glow.

The steady movement of your horses walk made your hips move slightly in time with the gait, and it felt as natural as if you were walking yourself. The saddle, being well worn was comfortable, it had to be with the hours you’d need to spend in it. This was second nature to you, as easy as breathing. Nearing the Abbott stables, you spotted Perry and Rhett leading their horses out of the stable. A small chuckle escaped your lips as you saw Rhett’s mare clack her teeth at Perry’s horse. Perry had led him far too close to Rhett’s mare for her liking, and Rhett glared at Perry as the latter struggled his way up in the saddle.

“You know she doesn’t like that,” you heard Rhett grumble, as he gave his mare a soothing pat before swinging himself up in the saddle with ease. This was like breathing for him too. Rhett gave his mare another appreciative pat before letting a murmured "Good girl," slip from his lips, probably subconsciously. It made your cheeks heat up slightly, and you figured it best to make your presence known.

“‘Morning fellas,” you smiled as your horse halted in front of the two men. Perry smiled and nodded towards you, fixing his reins before he let them touch his horses neck to signal he should turn towards the pasture to begin walking.

Rhett smiled as he took in your appearance in the morning sun. It was almost enough to take his breath away. “Morning, sunshine” he smiled as he softly asked his mare to walk next to yours - at a respectable distance of course. Though your horse and his mare got along better than the mare and Perry’s horse.

You smiled, and had to take a deep breath as you took in Rhett’s riding attire. He wore his cowboy hat, something you secretly loved about him. Along with jeans, cowboy boots and a thick, old and worn jacket with a faded aztec print on. It had probably been Royal’s at some point.

“Been a while since I saw you,” Rhett continued, as the sun rose higher in the sky as you searched for the herd. You ducked your head, wondering if you should confess.

“I’ve been to all of your rodeos lately, but you haven’t seen me,” you spoke softly, offering him a sheepish smile. His eyes widened, as he turned his upper body towards yours, his brows furrowed a little as he spoke “No way, I would’ve seen you! Why didn’t you come up to me afterwards?”

“You were surrounded by your family and some girls and I didn’t want to be a bother,” you rambled, feeling your cheeks heat up in the cool morning air. Rhett let out a low chuckle before shaking his head.

“You never bother me, sunshine,” as he spoke, his keen eyes had spotted the heard, and he only had to give you a look before you’d spurred your horses on to start working.

You worked the cattle well into the afternoon, and as they were now peacefully walking towards their correct pasture, Perry asked if the two of you could handle the rest - he needed to head back to pick up Amy from school. Rhett and you nodded as your horses walked behind the heard, waving at him as he steered home.

Rhett looked beautiful in the afternoon sun, a thin sheen of sweat had gathered on his forehead, and in the junction of his throat. He’d since long shed his jacket, fastening it to the saddle in preference of riding in a black, tight t-shirt. You bit your lip softly as he caught you gazing at him. He smiled softly at you, and his beautiful blue eyes felt as if they saw right through you. It was as if he could anticipate your every slight mood swing, and he averted his gaze with a hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. Suddenly you felt like his mare. He didn’t want to scare you off.

“Rhett?” You spoke softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees.

“Yeah, sunshine?” you licked your lips.

“Do you ever think of me?”

You’d come to a halt, having led the cattle to the correct pasture. You let your horse graze for a bit as you turned to look at Rhett. His eyes were soft, and a lopsided smile adorned his face. He didn’t answer right away, instead dismounting his mare and tying up her reins. He took a few short strides before he stood beneath you, his palm spread on your jean clad thigh. Instinctively, you knew he was asking you to dismount as well. You swung your leg across the horses neck, sitting side saddle for a moment, before you felt Rhett’s strong hands on your hips as you slid down from the saddle.

“Hi,” he whispered with a charming smile, his face so close to yours as he held your hips.

“H-hi” you stuttered out, and Rhett groaned.

“Do I ever think of you, sunshine?” he repeated, leaning into your body, letting you feel his broad chest with the palms of your hand, could feel his slightly erratic heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. His arms had wound around you and rested at your lower back.

“You are always on my mind,” he whispered, his lips gracing your ear softly, his breath ghosting over your neck before his lips followed its path. Your hands gripped his t-shirt, wanting to pull him impossibly close to you and never let go - you wanted him with you, always. Wanted to feel his body against yours like this for the rest of time.

“Rhett,” the whisper of his name, tumbling breathlessly from your lips sounded like a song to him, and the whisper seemed to echo in the mountains - as if you had spoken his name to the gods above and made him who he was. Rhett retreated from his position at your throat, looking into your eyes, trying to read your very soul. He licked his lip, and slowly reached a hand up to tilt his hat back a little - giving you plenty of time to spook, to flee - but your smile lit up the autumn afternoon, and Rhett let the tip of his nose gently touch yours lovingly - teasing you by letting it caress yours.

“Rhett” you spoke again, his name now an impatient prayer that sunk so deliciously into his own skin.

“Yes, sunshine?” He murmured with a smile, his lips so close to yours that you could almost feel them move.

“Kiss me.” it was a breathless question, a whine almost - needing him to take from you what you were willing to give him. You swore you almost heard him whimper at your tender request, but you couldn’t be too sure as he’d closed the gap between the two of you, slotting his pink lips against yours in a searing kiss. He inhaled sharply at the feelings that small kiss stirred deep within him. It didn’t just shoot straight to the gutter as it normally would, but it started a storm of emotions deep within his chest, like an ache that had been slumbering but was now awoken and soothed at the same time.

He broke free to let your name fall from his lips, and it surprised him that tears were burning in his eyes.

Your soft smile and reassuring touch told him that he had finally let you in. Had finally let you be the one to see him and cherish him as he was. He almost beat himself up for not seeing it sooner.

“It’s always been you, hasn’t it, sunshine?” He spoke softly, his hands fluttering over your body in disbelief.

“I’ve wanted it to be me,” you confessed, smiling at the storm of emotions playing on Rhett’s face. You could tell this was overwhelming for him. You were afraid he’d never been loved unconditionally before, on his terms. “But I wanted to give you time. I wanted to understand you first, and I feel like I do now,” you continued, pushing a stray strand of his hair behind his ear, tucking it neatly into his hat.

“And you’ve been here this whole time,” he hiccuped, feeling the emotions drain from his high strung and stressed body.

“And I’ll continue to be here for as long as you need me,” you smiled, pecking his lips sweetly. Rhett’s eyes fluttered close at that statement, his breath stuttering in his throat as he thought of the implication of that.

The notion that maybe you could love him, all of him, as he were. Without having to leave, without having to change. He was good enough to you just as he was now. Rhett. He let his forehead rest against yours, and your eyelids fluttered closed too as you drank in the feeling of the late afternoon sun warming your face. Inhaling the sweet puffs of air that left the lips of the man you now felt you truly understood.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fluff #sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged 🙈

[sciamaria]

Non è facile invecchiare con garbo.

Bisogna accertarsi della nuova carne, di nuova pelle,

di nuovi solchi, di nuovi nei.

Bisogna lasciarla andare via, la giovinezza, senza

mortificarla in una nuova età che non le appartiene,

occorre far la pace con il respiro più corto, con

la lentezza della rimessa in sesto dopo gli stravizi,

con le giunture, con le arterie, coi capelli bianchi all’improvviso,

che prendono il posto dei grilli per la testa.

Bisogna farsi nuovi ed amarsi in una nuova era,

reinventarsi, continuare ad essere curiosi, ridere

e spazzolarsi i denti per farli brillare come minuscole

cariche di polvere da sparo. Bisogna coltivare l’ironia,

ricordarsi di sbagliare strada, scegliere con cura gli altri umani, allontanarsi dal sé, ritornarci, cantare, maledire i guru,

canzonare i paurosi, stare nudi con fierezza.

Invecchiare come si fosse vino, profumando e facendo

godere il palato, senza abituarlo agli sbadigli.

Bisogna camminare dritti, saper portare le catene,

parlare in altre lingue, detestarsi con parsimonia.

Non è facile invecchiare, ma l’alternativa sarebbe

stata di morire ed io ho ancora tante cose da imparare.

Cecilia Resio, “Le istruzioni”

[jack-di-picche]

Non è facile invecchiare con garbo.

Bisogna accertarsi della nuova carne, di nuova pelle, di nuovi solchi.

Bisogna lasciarla andare via, la giovinezza, senza mortificarla in una nuova età che non le appartiene, occorre far la pace con il respiro più corto, con la lentezza della rimessa in sesto dopo gli stravizi, con le giunture, con le arterie, coi capelli bianchi all’ improvviso, che prendono il posto dei grilli per la testa.

Bisogna farsi nuovi ed amarsi in una nuova era, reinventarsi, continuare ad essere curiosi, ridere e spazzolarsi i denti per farli brillare come minuscole cariche di polvere da sparo.

Bisogna coltivare l’ironia, ricordarsi di sbagliare strada, scegliere con cura gli altri umani, allontanarsi dal sé, ritornarci, cantare, maledire i guru, canzonare i paurosi, stare nudi con fierezza.

Invecchiare come si fosse vino, profumando e facendo godere il palato, senza abituarlo agli sbadigli.

Bisogna camminare dritti, saper portare le catene, parlare in altre lingue, detestarsi con parsimonia.

Non è facile invecchiare, ma l’alternativa sarebbe stata di morire ed io ho ancora tante cose da imparare.....

Cecilia Resio

#j♠  #me

#j♠ #me

[sidesteppostinghours]

The Puppets

(picrew used to make this)

this is a masterpost on my main steps puppets and their relationships with them! all of their info under the cut.

Hark - Caine Lynzal

hark is caines refuge. hes the one they turn to when they need to take a break from their telepathy for a while, or when they need to feel real again. harks snarky, flirty, and sharp. for all his bravado, he gets the job done well. whether or not that makes him more frustrating or less is up to you. he has an eerie sense of intuition, so its difficult to catch him off guard with anything. he has a cordial working relationship with dr mortum, but jake has his eye on him. as for ranger relationships, ortega flirts with him regularly, though chen is never quite so pleased to see him. he truly doesnt know why– a bruise at the back of the head is a much more agreeable outcome than a bullet in the gut, no? its strange to watch him, really. hark and caine are almost(?) different people; where caine prefers to stick to the shadows, hark revels in attention. caine rarely shows emotions, but hark uses them like a weapon. ortega doesnt have a clue that theyre connected. high puppet individuality, high puppet comfort. practices aikido.

Argentine - Cyrus Becker

argentine is a tool. nothing more, nothing less. shes a useful asset to help cyrus gather information anonymously, but hes not going to sit here and pretend he cares for her any more than what she can do for him. she goes to meet with hollow ground instead of cyrus, and was stuck being treated in the hospital before dr mortum went to break her out (cyrus had no idea she was getting kidnapped, he was busy regene revealing to ortega while it was happening). she started out flirting with the good doctor in an attempt to manipulate him, but quickly came to realize she enjoyed his company more as a friend. the guilt of lying to him chewed on cyrus until he finally revealed who was behind the mask. dr mortum requested some time, but hasnt cut the chord completely yet. she flirts with jake, and spies on ortega under the guise of being his close friend. low puppet individuality, low puppet comfort. practices jogging.

Ace- Cecilia Rider

ace lives lavishly. shes an excuse for cecilia to flaunt her wealth and have her own fun. it allows her to let loose in ways she cant normally indulge in. cecilia also hates being ace. every second she can avoid it, she does. it isnt her, even though they may think and act the same way. the prospect of hiding under the mask ace provides gives her hives. shes no coward, shes willing to face the consequences of her own actions, and she refuses to live her life in somebody elses body. ace is friends with dr mortum and ortega, though shes revealed to mortum. however, she has a strong tension with jake because of her tendency to get into fights whenever hes around. oops. high puppet individuality, low puppet comfort. practices boxing.

Eden - Cynthia Garcia

eden is not cynthia. shes soft spoken and mostly reserved, but professional and polite. Technically speaking, the game registers her as a mirror image puppet, but thats not completely true– eden doesnt look like what cynthia does currently, she looks like how cynthia looked back when she was sidestep. sometimes, looking in the mirror gives her vertigo as she tries to remember who (when?) she is. eden avoids mirrors as a result, but she cant deny that this body feels better than her usual one. like shes turned back time. the fact shes dating ortega only exacerbates this (ortega also called eden 'cynthia' which. Ortega. could you please stop dating both at once and giving both(?????) your gfs an identity crisis). mortum considers her a friend, but theyre not very close, and jake couldnt care less about her. low puppet individuality, high puppet comfort. practices aikido.

#ive been itching to do one of these because i realized all of their stats are different from eachother and that got me. mmmm #i fucking love hark #my sweet bastard son #hes the part of caine thats sick of everybodys bullshit and he finally gets the chance to say it #edens isnt entirely true #sometimes she has less puppet comfort so i can get that sweet sweet regene-copy angst #it depends on the run #but cynthia always likes being eden #im so happy with how these all came out goddamn #they all look like how i imagine them #picrew #caine lynzal #cyrus becker #cecilia rider #cynthia garcia #sidestep #fhr #pulp speaks

[autumnfangirler]

its about girls who are so superficial and insincere in their niceness that no relationship goes any deeper than surface level, vs boys who are so honest in their love that the caustic shell fails among people they cherish btw. if u even care.

#and how both of them use their respective personas to protect themeselves from a world who told them they were never and could never #be worth loving #this post is about #cecilia rider #and #cyrus becker #btw #mostly cecilia though #everything i said about ceci in that first post is a lie this is canon now #the only person she has any real connection too is ortega but thats by nature of him being her best friend for years #mfw i have a good relationship w everyone but low friendship stats 🗣🗣🗣 #meanwhile cyrus is a mess trying to pretend he still has walls and doesnt care about anybody except mortum and ortega and danny and rosie an

[topguncortez]

Day 28: It's just the tip of the iceberg prompts: Anger born of worry character: Rhett Abbott warnings: physical violence, Perry's a fucking dumbass, fighting, bull riding injuries, dislocated bones, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of depression (not eating, not sleeping). masterlist | whumptober | library

Rhett was scary when he was angry. He knew he was, and that’s why he tried his hardest to remain calm. Also one of the reasons why he drank as much as he did. He had his father’s anger in him, and knew how to pack a lethal punch if needed. Rhett could harness most of his anger into bull riding, but sometimes, that anger spilled over. Never with Y/N though, he never got angry at her. And he tried his hardest to never let her see that side of him. 

But it was like something in Rhett had snapped as he was sitting at the kitchen table, the meal his mother and Y/N had cooked was ready to be eaten. She smiled at Rhett, and touched his shoulder gently as she sat down next to him. He grabbed her hand, and kissed the diamond ring that sat on her finger. Amy sat across from them and fake gagged at them, which caused Rhett to chuckle and toss a piece of bread at her. 

“Rhett,” Y/N scolded and sat down next to him. Royal sat at the head of the table, and Cecilia at the other end. It was hardly ever that they sat at their actual dining room table, but Cecilia insisted now that Rhett and Y/N were over. The best thing Rhett had ever done was officially move out of his parents house. Y/N had a small house in town, and Rhett was jumping at the bit to move in with her. If it wasn’t for Cecilia telling Rhett he needed to wait at least a couple months before asking to move in together, he would’ve asked by week two of dating. 

“Do you want to say grace?” Cecilia asked her husband, who looked worse for wear. Rhett wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but he had shown up in ripped clothing and a gunshot wound on his leg the other day. Royal said it was one of the Tillerson boys, but Rhett wasn’t buying it, nor was he going to pry. He was already on the sheriff’s radar for Trevor’s death, and didn’t want to be pulled into any more of the mess. 

Rhett had told himself when he started dating Y/N that he was going to get on the straight and narrow. No more bar fights, or getting OWIs. He knew that there were whispers around town about the kindergarten teacher getting mixed up with the drunken bull rider, and Rhett hated it. Y/N acted like the whispers at church didn’t bother her, but Rhett could see through it. She also knew that since Rhett had been named a suspect in Trevor’s disappearance and murder, that the school had put her on leave. She kept it a secret from Rhett for a couple days, but he figured it out one day when he saw her turn a different direction than the school one morning. He felt bad that she was getting punished for his stupid actions. And it didn’t help that his father wasn’t helping him either. 

“I can do it,” Y/N volunteered, and Rhett squeezed her thigh. Everyone at the table bowed their heads, “Dear Lord, please bless-” 

“Where the hell have you been?” Royal said, as the door was pushed open. Y/N opened her eyes and looked over to see Perry standing in the doorway. 

“I confessed,” Perry said.

“Confessed?” Amy asked, “What would you need to confess about?” 

Y/N felt Rhett stiffen next to her, taking his hand off her thigh. She looked over her shoulder at him, and noticed the way his body was starting to shake, “What are you talking about?” Rhett asked. 

“I left a letter for the sheriff. I took the blame for all of it,” Perry looked at Y/N, “Everyone else is off the hook, including you.” 

There was a pause of silence before Rhett pushed back from the table with enough force to send his chair crashing to the ground. Y/N jumped at his action, feeling her heart going erratic in her chest. She placed a hand on her belly, the only other person noticing the action was Royal. 

“Fuck you,” Rhett spat. 

“Hey,” Royal said to his son, as Rhett kicked his chair. Y/N was silent and looked down at her lap, trying to count to ten in her head and calm her breathing down. Rhett paced the floor angrily behind her, running his hands through his hair. 

“Perry, after all we did to protect you?” Cecilia spoke up. 

“I took the blame to protect you. To protect everyone!” Perry said, “You’re all safe now.” 

“There’s no telling what the cops will find now that they know it's on us!” Royal seethed. 

“Rhett, can you stop pacing please,” Y/N said softly, reaching out to grab his wrist, which he angrily pulled away from her, and threw a glass at Perry. 

“Fuck you!” Rhett yelled, angry dripping in his voice. Y/N’s eyes widened as Royal quickly got up from his spot to hold his younger son back, “Maybe our parents are protected, but the sheriff knows that we left that bar together! You have no idea what I have given up to protect you!” 

“Hey! Get Y/N and Amy out of here!” Royal yelled. She didn’t even know her name was called until Cecilia put a hand on her shoulder, and to get her. Y/N looked up at Cecilia with fear in her eyes and the older woman frowned. 

“I’m sorry!” Perry cried. Y/N stood up from her chair, and quickly grabbed Amy, the young girl clutching onto her arm as they moved away from Rhett’s side of the kitchen. 

“Don’t say you’re fucking sorry to me! It’s no wonder Rebecca left you! You selfish piece of shit. You’re the reason Amy doesn’t have a fucking mom!” Rhett snapped, his chest heaving with every breath. Y/N couldn’t believe what he was saying. She knew Rhett could be mean, but she didn’t think he could be this mean. 

“He didn’t mean that, Perry,” Y/N said, and touched the man’s arm gently, but Perry wasn’t listening, as he shoved her back, sending her stumbling to the floor and charging after Rhett. Cecilia ran to Y/N as Royal tried to separate Perry and Rhett. 

Y/N watched in horror as Perry picked Rhett up and slammed him on the kitchen table, delivering a punch to his face. Cecilia ran to her boys as Y/N held Amy tightly in her arms, whispering under her breath. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Y/N felt tears running down her cheeks as she tried not to let Amy see her dad like this. She flinched at the sound of breaking glass as Royal stepped in and pulled his oldest son away from his youngest. Rhett had blood dripping down his nose as stood heaving on the other side of the kitchen. His blue eyes for a moment flashed over to where Y/N was now standing, holding Amy. Perry gathered himself for a minute, and grabbed the knife that was sitting on the counter. 

“I’m protecting Dad!” Perry yelled as he taunted Rhett with the knife, “Autumn was going to tell the sheriff that she saw him with Trevor’s body?” 

“What?” Royal spat, “How many times have I told you to not talk to her.” Royal grabbed Perry’s body, and slammed him up against the glass courier cabinet, sending glass shards everywhere. 

“Fuck!” Y/N hissed as she felt a glass penetrate her skin. Blood trickled down from her forehead as she pulled a small piece of glass out. Cecilia shrieked as Rhett pushed past her over to Y/N. 

“Babe,” Rhett said, and reached out to grab her. 

“No!” Y/N yelled and pushed him away, and ran for the door. 

“Y/N! Wait!” Rhett called out for her and ran after her. Cecilia walked over to Amy, and grabbed the little girl in her arms as the house was now quiet. 

“You better pray you didn’t do anything to hurt that girl or that baby,” Royal said and shoved Perry one more time, before walking over to his wife and grandchild. 

Rhett could hear Y/N’s sobs as he ran to wear she stood in the middle of the driveway. The night air sent a chill to her bone, and she wrapped her arms around her. She looked around at the dark scenery around her. She could remember nights as a child when she would run out and find herself in the middle of the pasture, staring at the stars, finding Polaris and debating on running away. 

“Y/N!” Rhett called out for her as he approached. 

“Don’t come near me!” Y/N yelled as she turned around to face him. Rhett held his hands up in defense and nodded, “What the fuck was that?!” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-” 

“Don’t give me that shit, Rhett Abbott,” Y/N seethed, “What the hell were you thinking? You know what he’s capable of. And you thought it was a good idea to start a fight in front of your niece, and say those things about her father! I know you hate him, but for fuck’s sake! That’s her dad! The only goddamn parent she has left!” 

“I’m sorry-” 

“I’m not done,” Y/N cut him off, “What I just saw in there was not the same man I fell in love with. The same man that I said yes to marrying. The same man that I am having a baby with!” 

“You’re pregnant?” Rhett asked, his jaw dropping, “I’m going to fucking kill Perry for push-” 

“There you go again!” She let out a frustrated groan. She turned her back to him, and took a couple deep breaths. She closed her eyes and thought back to all those nights she helped her mother clean up her face after a fight with her father. The sounds of breaking glass and the cries for him to stop drinking. Y/N could remember asking her mother why she stayed, why would she willingly stay with a man as horrible and mean as her father. Her mother simply said, she stayed because of Y/N. 

Y/N opened her eyes and let out a shaky breath, “I’m leaving.” 

“What?” Rhett asked, “What-What do you mean?” 

“I can’t stay with someone like. . . whoever the hell that was in the kitchen,” Y/N said and turned back to face Rhett, “I witnessed my mother stay with someone like that for years, and it killed her. I will not end up like her. I can’t. . . I can’t put my child in a situation like that.” 

“Y/N, I’m not-” 

“You are Rhett! You are just like that! You’ve just gotten used to hiding it,” Y/N said, and took a step forward, “I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t say anymore as she walked past him and to her car. Rhett took a step out of the way as he heard her car start, then the turning of gravel as she drove out of the driveway. He wanted to get angry and go back into the house with a new fight to start, but instead, he walked into the house, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and walked up to his room. 

— — — 

It took three days until Rhett finally got out of his room. He was starting to feel sick from not eating and just laying in bed all day. He could hear the conversation of his parents outside his door. They had one son sitting in jail and the other locked in his room. Rhett also knew that he had an important competition tonight, and needed to fuel up for it. 

He stood at the kitchen sink filling up a pot of water so he could make himself some mac n cheese, when he heard footsteps. He looked over his shoulder to see Amy standing there shyly. Rhett hung his head in shame at the nervous stature of his niece. She was probably scared of him too, and Rhett didn’t blame her. 

“How are you?” Amy asked softly. 

Rhett gave her a small smile, “Got out of bed.” 

“That’s good,” Amy nodded, “Are you going to shower next?” 

Rhett laughed, “I reckon that’s on the list of things to do.” 

“Good,” Amy nodded again. There was a beat before she spoke again, “Y/N says hi. I stopped by the other day after school. I miss seeing her during recess.” 

“Yeah, I know she misses seeing you too,” Rhett turned back to the now overflowing pot of water, “Shit.” He cursed and turned the tap off. 

“I’m guessing Y/N does the cooking at home?” 

“You’d guess correctly. Says I can’t boil water without burning it.” 

“Clearly, you can’t even get water into the pot correctly.” 

Rhett shot her a look as Amy giggled. A wave of relief washed over him at the sound of her laughter. He was happy to hear the sound again. But there was still that heavy feeling of guilt in between the two of them, like a thick blanket. Rhett didn’t want to talk about the fight, and he didn’t know how to address it with her anyway. 

“Do you ride tonight?” Amy asked. 

“Yeah,” Rhett nodded, “Championship. . . and my last ride.” 

“Last ride? Why?” 

“I got a baby on the way,” Rhett smiled to himself, “Y/N needs me around more.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

Leave it to the nine year old to ask the heavy questions at twelve in the afternoon. But she was right, why was Rhett still there dwelling in his own mistakes. He hadn’t ever been the one to back down from a fight before. He rolled his shoulders back and stood up straight. Rhett looked at the little girl in front of him, he wasn’t sure when she grew from the little toddler who was chasing him around to the beautiful young woman that stood strong in the middle of the mess. 

“I’m gonna ask Y/N to leave with me tonight, and I want you to come with us,” Rhett told his niece. 

“What about my dad?” Amy asked. 

Rhett sighed, “He’s got a lot to figure out. We all do, but we also want what's best for you. You deserve to be a kid, and live a somewhat normal life. So, come with us.” 

Amy paused for a second, and then nodded. 

— — — 

The smell of livestock filled the air as Y/N walked towards the metal stands. No matter how mad she was at Rhett, she had never missed a ride. For nearly three years Y/N had sat on his mother’s left side, holding her hand and watching the seconds tick on until he could get off that damn bull and get to safety. But tonight was different as she looked around the stands and didn’t see a single member of the Abbott family. She frowned and found a spot to sit where she could clearly see Rhett. 

Rhett let out a shaky breath as his rodeo hand, Michael, taped up his wrist. His blue eyes looked up, scanning the crowd again for his family. His frown ticked upwards a bit as he landed on her frame, smiling and talking to some Wabang citizen. She looked gorgeous in a white sundress, jean jacket and her boots. Rhett’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed her still wearing her ring. 

“Are you ready for this?” Michael asked him. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Rhett said, and climbed up towards the chute. The bull he drew was already angry, and he wasn’t even on it yet. The animal bucked and snorted wildly as Rhett climbed over the railing. Y/N bit her nails as she watched him climb on the animal, and secure his rope. The second the buzzer went off, her eyes locked on the large clock. She couldn’t watch Rhett, she had to focus on the timer or she would get sick. 

“Come on, Rhett! Hold on!” She cheered as the time ticked. The time stopped at 5 seconds as a loud buzzer sounded. She snapped her head towards the center of the ring, where she watched Rhett stagger to the side of the ring, and get pulled away from some of the hands. Y/N gasped as she pushed her way through the crowd, running to get back to him. 

“You can’t ride,” She heard one of the rodeo hands saying to her husband. 

“I have to,” Rhett’s voice was gravely, “Just pop it back in.” 

“Rhett,” Y/N said as she got over to him. His blue eyes looked up at her filled with guilt and sadness, “What happened?” She asked Michael. 

“Dislocated his shoulder on the fall,” Michael said, “He can forfeit and be fine.” 

“I’m not doing that,” Rhett said, “Pop the damn thing back in.” 

“Rhett,” She pleaded. 

“I have to,” Rhett said, “I have to do this. For you, for Amy. . . for our baby. Please, just hold my hand while they pop it back in.” Y/N nodded and rushed to his side. Rhett stood up, and grabbed Y/N’s hand tightly. She kissed the top of his head as a loud groan left his lips as Michael touched his arm. Michael looked over at Y/N and nodded, before popping the bone back in, “Son of a bitch!” Rhett yelled, and stumbled forward. Y/N moved out of the way as he vomited from the pain. 

“You’re okay,” Y/N rubbed his back, “When’s the next ride?” 

“Soon,” Michael said, “He’s gotta get into the chute.” 

Y/N nodded and grabbed Rhett’s face gently in her hands. He looked at her, the oceanic blue pools of his eyes wet with tears. She didn’t say anything, but kissed his cheek. Rhett closed his eyes as she left and walked back towards the stands. Rhett slowly opened his eyes and watched her walk away. 

“Let’s do this shit.”

— — — 

Y/N was kicking the gravel underneath her boots as she waited in the open area of the rodeo for Rhett. He was probably showering and changing, Y/N always made sure there was an extra set of clothes in the trailer for after the rodeo. Rhett had won his last ride, and ended up winning the whole competition. As Rhett stood up from the dirt after his last ride, he looked around the arena, taking in the sight of the town cheering for him, but his eyes locked on to Y/N, who was beaming with pride. The two of them could tell at that moment that everything had shifted. That a line had been drawn in the sand, and it was time for them to decide on what to do next. 

“Hey,” Rhett called out to her. Y/N looked up from the rock she had been kicking and smiled at the bull rider. 

“Hey yourself. Congrats-” 

“Leave with me,” Rhett said, cutting her off, “Please. I don’t have anyone here for me, besides you and Amy, and she already agreed to coming with me, so really, it's just you. And I am tired of everyone in this town seeing me as a fuck up. I don’t want our kid to have to deal with the same thing. I’m ready to leave, I need to. We need to.” 

“Rhett,” She sucked in a breath, “I’m sorry for what I said the other night. I got scared, I had never seen that side of you before. All I saw in that moment was everything I tried so hard to escape.” 

“I know,” Rhett took a step forward, “And I am so fucking sorry, darlin’. I never ever wanted you to see me like that, or make you feel like that again. I know what it did to your momma and I’m not going to do that to you. I promise, I will never ever hurt you or our baby.” 

Y/N smiled at the words ‘our baby’ leaving Rhett’s mouth. She stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of them. Rhett’s hand rested on her hip, the other one was being supported in a sling. She gently caressed his jaw, running her thumb over his stubble, before reaching up and plucking the hat off his head. Rhett smiled as she placed it on her own head. 

“Take me away from here, Cowboy.”

#outer range #outer range fan fic #outer range fan fiction #outer range imagine #Rhett abbott #Rhett abbott fan fic #Rhett abbott fan fiction #Rhett abbott imagine #Rhett abbott x reader #Rhett abbott x y/n #Rhett abbott x you

[sebsxphia]

Okay okay during a ride Rhett gets knocked off the bull and he hits his head you’re watching with the crowd in silence to see if he gets up or not

okay okay okay, ouch???????

you’ve never witnessed the crowd go so quiet at an event before. everyone is zoned in in complete silence with their eyes trained on rhett. he was expected to be the winner this round and it startles everyone to see the future best bull rider in all wyoming fall to the dirt with a hideous thump, head first.

cecilia’s hand reaches for yours in a flash. she’s squeezing it so tight you think she’ll break your knuckles. your heart is thumping under your rib cage and it feels like it’ll burst right through your chest. your hearing is focused on the other rodeo riders yelling between each other about what the fuck they do. however, you can still hear royal next to you and muttering under his breath faintly. “come on, kid. come on, come on, come on.”

ten seconds have passed but it feels like ten minutes of standstill. your eyes are darting between the other riders. your throat constricts as you watch them bring the bull back in and drag rhett off to the side. the commentator has been rambling the whole time, but you’ve failed to notice it until now. the crowd breaks it’s silence once rhett is out the ring.

you vaguely remember telling cecilia you’re going to find him before your legs could carry you off. it felt like your brain was sloshing about in your skull and you couldn’t focus on anything else but your dear husband.

you completely avoid the ‘riders only’ sign round the back of the trailers and so do said riders. they know you’re rhett abbott’s wife and they wouldn’t dare stand in your way, let alone protest. you grip at the arm of a rider and tug at him. “where… where is he-” your eyes dart around frantically until they land on him, slumped against a hay bale, eyes just fluttering open and with two other riders huddled around him.

“oh my god, rhett.” you gasp out. your legs carry you over to him but then completely give out and you fall to your knees at his side. you’re careful not to touch his head or his neck but it doesn’t stop you from squeezing his shoulders.

his heavy and tainted gaze falls to you and a crooked smile twitches on his lips. “my love, darlin’, i’m fine. i promise.” your worry doesn’t move from your face at his slurred words. “he’s fine, ma’am. concussion, that’s all. i think you need to get him to a hospital though.” one of the riders pipes up.

having the semi all clear that rhett’s neck isn’t badly injured, you reach your trembling hands up to his cold cheeks and cradle his face. “i thought… we thought… oh my god.” you gulp down the sob that threatens to bubble over your lips.

he brings one hand up to cup yours while another reaches under his vest, just above his heart. “never, darlin’. not when i’ve got you right here.” he pulls out a slightly crumpled photograph of you.

it was from the day he proposed to you in the wildflowers back on your ranch. a beaming smile on your face and your sundress blowing in the wind, high enough that it teasingly showed off your thighs. “not when i’ve got my diamond girl right next to me.”

hee hee thank you so, so much for this wonderfully angsty thought my dear anon!! 💌💖

#💌you’ve got mail #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction

[sirianasims]

Hmm how about 💛 💐 and 🍿 for Eric and Cecilia?

💛 What are their favorite activites to do together?

They're both nature people and they live in gorgeous Brindleton Bay, so they take a lot of long walks with the dog, or go for a run together. In general, they're one of those couples who are more or less glued together whenever Eric isn't working at the vet clinic, so whatever they're doing, it's usually together.

💐 What’s their favorite “domestic bliss” moment?

They love cooking together. Really, Eric does most of the cooking but he loves it when Cecilia keeps him company and helps out a bit while he does it. Cecilia always sneaks the dog some food scraps while they cook and Eric pretends not to notice.

🍿 If they had a movie (or other fiction) couple equivalent, what couple would it be and why?

Probably Rapunzel and Flynn Rider from the Pixar movie! Cecilia is a dreamer and very upbeat and positive, whereas Eric has seen some shit and done some things he isn't proud of, but he is a big softie at heart ❤️

#ask game #answered asks #eric duchelli #cecilia bell

[greymoonfeelings]

Death Wish

whumpuary #10: Blood

summary: dating a bull rider isn’t for the faint of heart

warnings: major injury, blood mention, hospitals, my medical degree is from Grey’s Anatomy

word count: 1.1k

•••

It was a normal Saturday day night rodeo. The anticipation was high, a palpable tension in the air. The crowd was so enthusiastic you could barely hear yourself think, but that was just how you liked it. You needed the high energy to keep your mind occupied on anything other than the dangerous activity your boyfriend Rhett had chosen for a career.

This ride should have been simple. Rhett only needed the bare minimum to qualify and the previous riders all had an easy ride. Everything should have been fine, but it wasn’t.

The bull that Rhett is mounted onto is more wild than usual. The mammal runs rampant around the pen, thrashing as your Rhett desperately tries to hold on. The scoreboard barely ticks six seconds when he is suddenly thrown from the saddle.

You watch in horror as your boyfriend is sent flying through the air like a rag doll. A sickening thud resounds through the stadium as his bodies with the metal pen. The crowd gasps, watching as Rhett’s body slumps into the dirt, a perfect target for the angry bull.

You’re out of your seat before you can think twice, shoving your way through the crowd. Perry hollers after you, but your only focus is to make it to Rhett.

The handlers manage to capture the bull, allowing a medical team to rush into the pen. You shove your way in after them, ignoring the personnel shouting after you, “you can’t go in there!” You never cared about rules, certainly not at a time like this.

With tears in your eyes, You hurry towards the flurry of people surrounding your boyfriend. One EMT stabilizes his neck as the other tends to his arm which appears to be broken. You notice blood trickling down his hairline and more blood flowing from a gash on his cheek.

“Oh my god! Is he okay?” You attempt to gain access to your boyfriend but one of the rodeo workers holds you back.

“Ma’am you need to let them do their job.”

“That’s my boyfriend! I need to see him!”

The struggle continues between you and the young man until someone pulls you from his arms. Royal holds you against his chest as the rest of the Abbotts watch the EMTs lay Rhett onto a stretcher.

“He needs to go to the hospital. Now. You’ll have to follow us there.” No information about Rhett’s current condition is given. One minute he’s there and the next, the beat-up ambulance is a blur in the dark Wyoming landscape leaving you paralyzed with fear.

———

The hour spent at the hospital without an update is antagonizing. You learn that time passes slowly in a place like this as you wait in the uncomfortable plastic chairs alongside Royal and Cecelia. At this time of night, the waiting room is nearly empty and the old soap opera episodes playing on the television do little to distract you from the intrusive thoughts running wild in your head.

Did you forget to kiss Rhett good luck? When was the last time you told him “I love you”? Did he know that you meant it when you said you wanted to marry him? Did he want to marry you? Would he even be able to after this?

“Abbott?” Instinctively your ears perk up at the name. Once you recognize the doctor standing before you, you shoot up from your seat along with Rhett’s parents.

“Your son is in stable condition. There doesn’t appear to be any major head trauma besides a concussion. There was a deep laceration on his head which required some stitches and his left arm is broken. He’s very lucky there wasn’t more damage to his head or spine. I would suggest a career change or, at the very least, a helmet.”

“Can we see him?”

“He’s still groggy so only one visitor at a time. It’s room 312.”

“Thank you, Doc.” Royal nods as the emergency room doctor walks away.

Cecilia lays a comforting hand on your shoulder, turning you to face your boyfriend’s parents. “You should go in first, hun.”

“Are you sure? He’s your son.”

“I’ll bet you’re the one he really wants to see.”

———

A chill creeps up your spine as you travel down the desolate hallway lined with empty rooms. You fiddle with the brim of Rhett’s Stetson that you had collected from the dusty floor of the pen. No matter how old and tattered the hat was, Rhett refused to get rid of it. It was his most prized possession, “second to my baby, of course”, as he always says.

Coming to a stop outside his room, your heart clenches as you peer through the glass at your boyfriend. The grimace on his face as he attempts to adjust in bed shows just how much discomfort he’s experiencing. While the situation didn’t turn out to be as bad as you feared, it still kills you to see the love of your life in such pain.

A soft knock on the door alerts Rhett to your presence. Seeing you instantly brings him comfort, a small smile making its way onto his face. You can’t say you feel the same. He looks even worse up close.

“God, Rhett.” You gasp, collapsing into the chair at his bedside. “You look like hell.”

Besides the stitches in his head, the side of his face is bruised along with a thin piece of gauze covering a more shallow cut. The only time he’s come close to looking this bad was when he got into a bar fight with Trevor. Even then it was only a black eye and split lip.

“Thanks for the glowing compliment, darlin’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean…” Your voice cracks, “That was a terrible accident. You could have been paralyzed or fucking died.”

“I’m sorry you had to watch that.” Rhett’s voice grows thick as he avoids your gaze, instead fiddling with the hospital sheets. “I understand if you want to break up with me. My ma used to tell me how hard it was watching my father get roughed up and you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

Reaching out to grab your boyfriend’s hand, the one that’s not wrapped up in a fresh white cast, you give it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if I think you’re an idiot for voluntarily signing up for this shit.”

“Really?” Rhett looks at you, hopeful.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. someone’s got to nurse you back to health.”

“Gonna be my sexy nurse, are ya?”

“Only if you promise to wear a helmet from now on when you’re riding.”

“I can’t do that. I’ll look like a fool.”

“No arguing. You won’t be looking like anything if you’re dead.”

“Fine but only for you.”

#heather writes #whumpuary2023 #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott

[linasofia]

Le Désir

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Fandom: Pilgrimage

Relationship: Raymond de Merville x OC Cecilia

Summary: Raymond is travelling along the coast of Ireland when a storm forces him and his men to seek shelter at a remote inn. When he spots the innkeeper’s daughter, he realizes the stay has potential to be more exciting than he first thought.

Warnings: 18+

Summer had only recently turned its back on the endless green hills, and the evenings were not yet characteristically dark—but the wind howling from the sea brought an icy foreboding of an approaching storm. Along one of the most dramatic coasts of Ireland, far from what was considered to be real civilization, the great distance between the inns often left travelers with no other option except sleeping under the stars. The landscape offered a spectacular view, and during summer, when the winds were mild, it was as close as one could get to paradise. But as the days turned shorter, the strong force of nature tested the persistence of anyone traveling along the coastline.

During their return from yet another mission, Raymond de Merville and his closest men rode in silence up the winding path. The wind tore at their cloaks, and the horses’ manes whipped angrily from one side to the other. Thankfully, it had not rained since the previous day, but Raymond’s mood was still sour. He hated sleeping on a damp bedroll and longed for a warm, dry bed. Any bed. His buckskin mare walked with her head bent to the side as if trying to shield her eyes from the wind, and he gave her a gentle stroke on the neck. She had carried him through many dangers, and he valued her more than he would ever admit. His father, Baron de Merville, had questioned his choice of horse more times than Raymond could remember. In the Baron’s opinion, a larger and heavier horse was more suitable for a knight, but Raymond liked the speed and temper of his mare. He had never seen a faster horse, and what she lacked in strength, she compensated with willingness and bravery.

The sun was slowly coming to rest behind the fast-moving clouds in the west, and the small group of riders searched for the old inn at the far end of the rocky road. Among the loyal group of soldiers accompanying Raymond, only his closest man—Dugald—had stayed at the inn before. Raymond vaguely remembered the location and the meals served there. It was a remote outpost, and the temperamental knight discovered it a few years earlier when he took the same godforsaken route. Focused on the task at hand, Raymond urged his horse forward. They needed to find the inn before they lost the light. After that, only hard rocks and the merciless wind awaited the exhausted horses and their riders.

Suddenly, a small collection of buildings appeared at the very end of the steep cliffs. With new energy in their bodies—fueled by the thought of strong ale—the group quickened their pace, and right before the last rays of light disappeared, they reached the stony yard in front of the inn. Candles were lit inside, and the innkeeper himself—a short, stocky man with a ginger beard—was busy sealing the small windows for the night. The approaching storm was not to be taken lightly. Thrilled to have a noble guest, the innkeeper assured Raymond they could find shelter within his walls before Raymond even had time to dismount his horse. Fair settlement would come later, but for now, the company was welcome to enjoy whatever the house had to offer.

Cecilia had been up since sunrise and dutifully done all the chores her father assigned to her. Only a few years ago, her main responsibilities were limited to serving their guests during the evening and caring for the sheep while the sun was up. But lately, probably due to her father’s increasing age, Cecilia more and more often found herself doing other tasks as well. While her mother spent most of her time preparing or cooking food for the steady stream of guests, Cecilia and her two younger sisters helped their father with everything he would have asked of a son—if he had one.

As a young girl, Cecilia overheard her father speaking to her mother about their incapability to conceive a boy. After their third daughter, and a good amount of tears, her parents understood that God would not bless them with another child. It became a great concern for Cecilia’s father, who—like so many other men—took an heir for granted. The thought of having one of his daughters take over the inn when he could no longer manage was unthinkable. Even if the girl’s mother did everything to convince him, there was no point. On the day of the argument, Cecilia swore to prove him wrong. Even if her father would never leave the inn to her, she was determined to show her value as a hard-working woman, and the older she got, the more difficult tasks she was entrusted with.

The inn was unusually empty, and Cecilia looked forward to a quiet evening. Maybe she would even have time to have a cup of warm cider with her mother. As she was sweeping the floor next to the door, raised voices from outside caught her attention. Her father’s voice sounded excited, and he was talking—or rather shouting—to someone, but she could not hear what was said. A horse suddenly neighed loudly, and Cecilia realized they had new visitors. Before she even had time to put on her cloak, the door was brusquely opened, and a man of impressive height bent down to avoid hitting his head while entering. When he straightened his back, Cecilia became certain he was the tallest man ever coming through their door, and she could not help but gasp when she took in the sight of him. The man’s dark hair was unruly—clearly from the removal of his mail coif—and he had traces of dust on his face, the kind you get from spending a long time on the road. Still, his short beard was well maintained, and under his dark eyebrows, a pair of cerulean eyes gleamed in the dim light. His jaw was set in a displeased expression, and Cecilia did not doubt he was as terrifying on the battlefield as he looked. A deep scar ran from his temple all the way to under his eye, and it made him look even more grim. His armor—together with the coat of arms on his chest—revealed his powerful status, and Cecilia averted her eyes while blushing. She had no right to study him so intensely, and he would certainly not approve.

A couple of other men soon followed the knight, and when her father finally appeared at the door, Cecilia sighed in relief. Even if she was used to handling most types of men while serving—not all travelers were gentlemen—there was something dark and unpleasant about the man who walked over—with no small amount of self-confidence—to the largest table in the room and sat down at the end. Another dark-haired man took a seat next to the first and then followed the rest of their company. Soon the men demanded ale and roasted meat to be brought to the table, and Cecilia looked at her father with a question on her face.

“What are you waiting for? You heard the men, did you not? Go see what your mother has ready.”

Cecilia sighed again. She would have preferred to keep sweeping the floor.

As the strong wind tried to rip the land apart, the heat from the fire warmed the newly arrived group of men, and as soon as their plates were filled with hot meals, their initial grumpy mutterings were replaced with laughter and merry chattering. Only one face remained displeased.

Raymond sat quietly and ate his roasted chicken directly from the bones. The skin was crispy—just the way he liked it—and well-seasoned. The innkeeper's wife was a good cook, and Raymond swallowed the last of his food together with a few mouthfuls of ale. It was the best meal he had enjoyed in days, but he was still not satisfied. He told Dugald to order another round of ale, hoping it would help him let go of the restless feeling in his chest. The howling wind increased in power, and he was grateful they reached the inn before nightfall. He could hear the wind tearing at the roof, and the house creaked as it fought back.

It did not take long before the young woman arrived with more foaming ale. She offered sweet smiles to all his men while handing out their drinks, but when she placed his pint on the table beforef him, she did not even meet his gaze. A short “Sire,” was all he got before she quickly walked away. Raymond watched her as she grabbed a broom and started sweeping away the mud they had brought inside upon their arrival. He was surprised he did not notice at first how beautiful she was. Her thick copper hair was pulled back and held in place with a ribbon, allowinghim to study her facial expressions as she worked. The way she moved her body made Raymond think of dancing—something he had not done since he left Rouen. Her waist was slim, and he briefly wondered how it would feel to put his hands around it. He took another mouthful of the strong ale and allowed himself to shamelessly admire the curve of her hips. It was something special about her that he could not really explain to himself. The young woman glanced at their table on several occasions, but not once did she meet his gaze.

When he finished his second ale, the burden of stress in Raymond’s chest was almost gone. The men around him became louder, and Dugald made an attempt to get the barmaid’s attention for yet another round of pints.

To Raymond’s displeasure, the ale was brought to the table by another young woman. The new girl was a significantly younger copy of the first, no doubt her sister. As she placed the pint in front of Raymond, he grabbed her wrist. She met his cold, intense stare, and her smile died on her lips.

“The woman who brought us food, what is her name?”

“Cecilia, Sire. Please, let me go,” the girl responded with a frightened look in her eyes.

“Tell Cecilia she is not done here,” Raymond muttered and lifted his hand. The girl practically ran away from the table, and Raymond wondered if she would tell her father—the innkeeper—or if his message would be delivered. Cecilia. Pretty name for a pretty face, he thought as he met Dugald’s amused look.

Dugald leaned in closer to Raymond and held his voice down. “Taking an interest in the soft flesh?”

“Mind your own business, Dugald,” Raymond snapped with a clear warning in his tone.

“For the right price, I am sure she can be persuaded to warm your bed tonight, if that is what you need.” Dugald ignored the icy stare Raymond shot at him. If it were not for their long friendship, Raymond would never have allowed Dugald to speak to him like that.

“I do not need to pay for a woman’s company, you know that.” Raymond took a few large gulps of his new ale and then grinned. “Besides, if I take a woman to my bed I prefer someone who actually wants to be there. Harlots lie dead on their back—a willing woman is far more interesting.”

“Fair enough,” Dugald laughed and looked appreciatively in the direction of the younger of the women. “One thing is certain: they did not get their looks from their father.”

“Cecilia, I need to speak with you!”

Cecilia turned at the sound of her youngest sister’s voice. She had gone to offer her mother some help but was pulled to a quiet corner and hushed when she tried to ask what was going on. Alice's voice was rushed and she kept her tone down.

“The scary-looking knight at the end of the table was asking for you. He asked for your name, and I gave it to him. I am sorry, but I could not refuse him. Did you speak to him?”

“I did not, I just gave them what they wanted.”

“He said you are not done yet. What does he want? Shall I go tell father? So he keeps an eye on them?”

“No, I can handle it myself,” Cecilia said with a confident smile. “We do not need to worry him.”

“Alright, as you wish. But I do not like the look on that man’s face. He looks cruel.”

Cecilia peeked around the corner, out into the main hall where their guests were seated. The room appeared even darker than usual now thattheir father had covered the windows. Candles and lanterns were placed on every table, and they spread a faint, warm light over the different faces. The knight with the horrifying scar was in deep conversation with the man next to him and paid no attention to anything else at the moment. Or so she thought.

“He does look grim, I agree. But we have seen worse, I think?”

“We have. Just be careful. And scream if he tries to touch you!”

“I promise! Stop being so dramatic, you are making me nervous with your thoughts. I am sure the evening will be quiet. Let us serve them ale, that will keep them happy.”

The sisters exchanged smiles, and Cecilia took a deep breath and stepped out into the main hall again. Alice’s words rang in her ears. He knew her name. Why did he ask for that? She did not have time to think of an answer, for as soon as she made her presence known, she had new requests to fulfill. The few other guests staying at the inn had taken their seats at another table, and Cecilia was glad for the distraction. She wiped her hands nervously on her apron and started working with a forced smile on her face. More meals and ale were prepared, and Cecilia and her sister hurried to serve the new group of hungry guests. As she worked, she could not help thinking of the knight. When he stepped over their threshold, she instantly saw the unusual color of his eyes, and the way he moved as he walked past her almost made her heart stop. He was danger personified, but a secret part of her liked that. She knew it was stupid, but she wanted to glance toward the other table and see if he was still as stern after all those strong ales.

Raymond instantly noticed Cecilia when she walked back into the room, and he did not care about Dugald’s inappropriate comment about it. Once again, he was reminded of her beauty as she smiled welcomingly at some other guests. But frustration grew inside him the longer he watched her. She had refused to look at him as soon as they were seated, and yet everybody else was treated with warmth. He emptied his pint and slammed it down on the table, earning a frown from Dugald and a cheer from the rest of the men. They quickly followed his example, and soon voices were raised for even more. It was going to be a long night, he thought, if his men kept drinking like that. But with the storm raging outside, what else could they do?

A feminine laugh, light and clear as the water in a spring brook, rose over the tables and landed like a sharp slap on Raymond’s face. He could not explain why it made him bitter, but he demanded to know why she ignored him—Raymond de Merville—while other men were generously met with kindness. The strong ale chased away the restlessness, but, it awoke something else instead. Desire. He stood up from the table, and without even a look at his men, he followed Cecilia when she once again left the room.

Cecilia was on her way to the pantry when she heard steps from heavy boots behind her. Before she could react, a warm, large hand wrapped around her wrist, and a not-so-gentle pull made her spin around and collide with a broad chest dressed in a stained burgundy surcoat. The masculine scent of musk mixed with leather and smoke surrounded her, and in the narrow passage, she had nowhere to go—she was trapped without any possibility of getting away from him. He towered over her, and she had to stretch her neck to meet his gaze. A small gasp escaped her lips as she stared into his cerulean eyes. She could not really make out the stormy expression in them, but the frown on his face told her that he was not pleased. Cecilia instinctively put her hands on his chest to push him away from her. The long hauberk made his upper body even harder than she assumed it was. Not that she had thought about that while sweeping the floor.

“Are you avoiding me?” His low, commanding tone was unlike any other voice she had ever heard. Who was this man, and what in the Lord’s name did he want?

”Sire?” Cecilia tried to think of a suitable answer. The truth was that she had indeed deliberately avoided any type of interaction with the man. In her mind she had the picture of him clear: he was a cruel man, a merciless slayer, and he had sworn to serve the crown—for as long as he lived. She was not sure what crown, for the men at the table spoke a language she did not understand, and the knight in front of her had an accent laced with a softer melody than her own. But he was also dangerously alluring, with his sharp jaw, patrician nose, and the confidence of a true warrior. And his lips. One quick glance at them made her warm, and she cursed herself for her reaction.

”I said, are you avoiding me?”

She forced a smile on her face and secretly let her fingernails dig into the soft skin of her palms.

”Of course not, Sire. I was just going to get some fruitcake, if you and your men would be interested in having some.” Cecilia knew most people had a change of mindset when threats were involved, but the man just stared back at her. The clouds in his eyes seemed to slowly fade away, and Cecilia exhaled a little too loudly.

”I am sure my men would appreciate some.” His breath was warm, and he smelled of ale. It was not unpleasant, but Cecilia would rather die than admit it.

”And you, Sire?”

”I have no interest in fruitcake, Cecilia.” She flinched at the way her name sounded when spoken by him. He made it sound exotic—like an endearment even.

”Is there anything else I can get for you?” Cecilia did not approve of the weakness in her voice. This was not how she usually handled guests who had too much to drink, and with a frustrated sigh, she pressed her nails deeper into her skin. He was no different, she told herself—no different at all.

”No,” he said, but something sparked in his eyes. For a second, Cecilia thought he was going to touch her, but then he took a step back and freed the passage.

”Let me know if you change your mind, Sire,” Cecilia replied, but as soon as the words were out, she wanted to sink through the floor. That did not come out as she intended. What if he thought she was implying another type of service? She had heard of women offering their company to guests for payment, but that was not what she was doing. “I did not mean to—”

”I will keep that in mind,” he cut her off with a grin. Then he turned and strode back to his men, leaving Cecilia in the narrow hall with blushing cheeks while his musky scent lingered like something forbidden in the air.

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#raymond de merville #raymond de merville fanfic #raymond x reader #pilgrimage #richard armitage #fanfiction #raymond #raymond fic #Le Désir