#Hans Zimmer did NOT need to go that hard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andiinaraethtash · 1 year

Text

Chapter 27: There’s Not a Road I Know That Leads to Anywhere

Notes:

*sing-song voice* Guess who's back!!! Sorry for the wait, I got sidetracked by real life and then got derailed by a million other projects, because I am incapable of focusing on one fandom at a time. Which is weird, because I used to be a very well-focused individual, and now... Well. Now you get four months between chapters. Sorry. TW: none really, this chapter is just angsty (which chapters aren't at this point) and the beginning section shows grief, but otherwise, it's all good! Chapter title is from Sound the Bugle, by Bryan Adams and Hans Zimmer

He knows he’s not supposed to be out and about, but Xornoth can’t help but be curious. He knows now he is indeed in the Grimlands, but he also knows that none of the rulers he’s interacted with rule here. Given the wizard Gem’s fierce vehemence about involving someone, he would lay even money on the mystery involving that someone, even though he has no evidence. A gut feeling, maybe, or a buried memory.

(Hopefully the former.)

(Probably the latter.)

So he maybe, might have, possibly snuck out of his room in the late evening, just to explore and try to get an idea of why he’s here. His room leads directly into a hallway, and he starts checking the rooms on either side of the hall. A study, a bedroom that looks like only the bed has been used in recent years, another bedroom, a lavatory, another bedroom—this one covered in sheets, dust, and cobwebs—and an open door at the other end of the hall.

There’s light coming from said room, and he can hear the soft murmur of voices, and… and he knows he shouldn’t listen in, but he’s desperate to know what’s going on, he needs to know—

He peeks through the gap at the hinges of the door, and nearly gasps when he sees Gem sitting next to a man he vaguely recognizes. In his memory, the man is bloody, beaten, and broken; now he looks like he’s recovering from starvation. He’s been cleaned up, but there’s something vacant about his eyes that haunts Xornoth in a way he should be used to.

They’re the eyes of a man who knows he is dead, even if his body hasn’t quite gotten there yet.

Biting his lip, Xornoth takes a steadying breath an focuses again on the scene in front of him. Gem is holding fWhip in a way that reminds him of how his mother would hold him, whenever he was sick or hurt or scared. His head is on her shoulder, and her chin is resting on his head, and she’s crying softly.

“Please, fWhip, I know you’re still in there, please just… just wake up,” she’s saying, cradling him as close to her as she can. Next to each other, the resemblance between the two of them is uncanny, and Xornoth knows with a certainty that this is her brother.

No wonder she hates his guts. He did that to her brother, to someone she loves, and if that didn’t just make his conviction that he should be locked up or executed stronger, he didn’t know what would. This right here is proof that he is a monster.

“fWhip?” Gem’s voice is trembling. “Please? Just… wake up. I need you to wake up--”

She cuts herself off, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and starts humming. It’s soft, quiet, and slightly off-key, a lullaby if he had to guess, but Xornoth also knows it’s precious, something not to be shared, a way of grieving that he really shouldn’t be intruding upon. So with the softest footsteps he can manage, he pads away.

He hates it, but the song echoes in his mind, chasing away the screams of those he’s killed.

______

The days pass at a snail’s pace. Xornoth continues to make progress; fWhip doesn’t. Gem tries not to take it too hard, she knows what they went through physically and mentally was different, but it still stings.

Within two days, Xornoth is eating solid foods, is walking around the room without needing any assistance, and his wings have moulted away the blackened feathers; within three he’s starting to ask questions. Thankfully, they’re all safe questions, ones they all feel they can answer, so there’s never been an incident, but she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s just Scott, Pearl, Sausage, and her staying in the Grimlands right now. The others have all promised to visit, and so far Katherine and Shrub have kept their word, but the others need time, they need space, they need to process everything that’s happened. Privately, she thinks they’ve had enough time to process, but she keeps that to herself.

Pearl tells her one day when she confesses how she’s feeling, “Yeah, I think you need time to process, too.”

Gem has to stop and think for a moment. Begrudgingly, she has to admit Pearl is right, but she refrains from doing so aloud. Instead, she says, “I’ll process when things go back to normal.”

She gets a disbelieving look in return, and raises her hands defensively, but before she can actually protest, Sausage pokes his head in. “There you are!” He says brightly. “Scott’s looking for you, Gem.”

Gem reluctantly tears her eyes away from Pearl, nods to Sausage, and leaves. Behind her, she hears Pearl start apologising to Sausage for the umpteenth time, and while she knows why, she’s just as tired of having to say it wasn’t her fault as Sausage is. You’d think by know she’d get the picture.

She finds Scott pacing the hall outside the bedrooms. He’s going back and forth between Xornoth’s room, which the other elf still hasn’t left, and fWhip’s room, like he’s trying to decide which one he wants to go into.

“You still haven’t actually seen him, have you?” Gem asks, trying to keep from sounding too exhausted as she gestures to fWhip’s room, and Scott startles before nodding.

“I know he’s alive, and that’s enough to let me sleep at night, but the rest of the time…”

Gem nods, understanding the anxiety of not knowing if he’s improving, of not knowing how bad it really is. “He’ll be okay. I have to believe that.”

Scott huffs out a heavy breath, then turns abruptly to face her. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and when she makes a sound of protest, continues. “If I had secured the crystal better before I left, if I had just gotten a handle on my powers sooner, I could have stopped—”

“Hey,” Gem cuts him off, a little frustrated. She’s tired of people feeling like they have to take the blame for what happened, when really the only person at fault was Xornoth. Well, Exor. Same difference. “We could play the blame game all day, but it won’t lead to anyone getting any better. We need to build each other up, not tear ourselves down.”

Scott hesitates, then sighs and nods. “I think it’s time I take Xornoth home,” he says, and Gem raises an eyebrow.

“You sure he’s ready for that?”

“He thinks he is.”

“But you don’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” Scott protests tiredly, and she gives him a flat look.

“Scott. I’d like to think we’re friends. So I’d also like to think you wouldn’t lie to me, and I’d really like to think you wouldn’t lie to yourself.”

Looking skyward, Scott takes a deep breath, then nods. “Alright, yes, I do think he needs to take more time to recover, but he insists he can do that in Rivendell, where he could very easily be triggered by something.”

“I’m more worried about the people,” Gem counters. “They see you bringing home the elf who killed your parents, and they get worried, scared, panicked—you could easily incite a rebellion or at least a riot if you’re not careful.”

Scott doesn't answer for a moment. “I’m aware,” he says slowly, “So I’m prepared to give him an official pardon, and make a proclamation telling everyone exactly what happened, if that helps. But he deserves a place to call home.”

“I thought the Royal Palace was torn down,” Gem says, tilting her head ever so slightly, and Scott nods.

“It was. He can stay with me.”

Thoroughly unimpressed, Gem makes a face. “You’re forgetting that he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t even know who you are. He might take your invitation the wrong way.”

He probably doesn’t like it, but he does suggest an alternative. “Then he can stay in the village, or maybe in one of the embassies.”

She can’t make him see reason, she realises, and sighs heavily. “Fine. He can stay in the Crystal Cliffs’ embassy. But if anything gets damaged, you’re replacing it.”

Scott smiles slightly. “Alright, Gem. But you know he’s not going to do anything to it. He’s too scared of you.”

Gem blinks, taken aback. He’s scared of her? Why would he be scared of her? She’s just Gem, he’s the monster. He’s the one who tortured and murdered and destroyed; she’s the wizard who’s trying to fix everything he broke.

Scott seems to understand her thoughts, and idly she wonders how he does it. “He’s not the one who did all that, Gem, not anymore. That person died with Exor. Of course he’s scared of you. You hold his life in your hands, and while I don’t think he wants to die, he thinks he deserves it, so really, putting his life in your hands is a risk either way.”

Oh. Oh. She hadn’t thought about it that way. He’s afraid to live but afraid to die. Of course, if she were in his shoes—

The next thought comes out of nowhere. Is that how fWhip feels? He’s done a lot of bad things as Exor’s puppet. If he remembers any of it, he’d know how close he got to hurting them-or how he did hurt them, in some cases.

Maybe she’s being too hard on Xornoth. For Scott’s sake, for fWhip’s sake, she needs to at least give him a chance.

“Okay,” she says quietly, and while she doesn’t elaborate, Scott seems to understand.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, then turns and leaves.

Gem stays there for a long moment, before heading off to fWhip’s room. She needs to see him.

_____

Xornoth is both dreading and excited about his return to Rivendell. When the elf king had sprung it on him, Xornoth’s immediate reaction had been dumbfounded silence. He’d expected more resistance. He’d asked, of course, which is what got the elf king thinking about it, but when the other elf had given a non committal answer, Xornoth had interpreted that as a no.

Apparently not, though. Instead, he’d been informed only an hour later that they would make the return journey tomorrow—or rather, today, as that day passed with lightning speed.

Right now, he’s sitting on the bed, feet planted on the floor, waiting for his escort to show up. He doesn’t know when they’ll be here, they just said to be ready by noon. And he’s ready as he’ll ever be, he’s just also terrified. What if the people revolt at the news that he’s coming? What if they try to kill him?

Okay, he’s not really worried about that, he’s more worried about them losing faith in their current ruler, who could only have been on the throne for three hundred years at the most. If he loses control because of Xornoth, if the kingdom falls into chaos again, it’ll be all his fault. Again.

He has no doubt that they fear him, that they hate him for what he did to his parents, to Scott—maybe even what he did to himself. He’d been told the night he was annointed Crown Prince that he was very much loved, so for him to turn away from them and betray them in such a significant way… For the new ruler to so easily accept him into Rivendell again, he must either be very secure in his reign, or very foolish. Maybe both.

Though, there’s not really anywhere else he can go. Except maybe for the Gilded Helenthia. Pearl seems to like him. So that’s an option.

He’s debating whether or not to just ask the elven king if that would be preferable, but he’s interrupted by the door swinging open. Looking up, he’s surprised to see the elf king himself. He’d expected him to have gone ahead and made the announcement that he was coming, but apparently not.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and Xornoth nods. What else is he supposed to say? ‘No, I forgot my everything?’ He has nothing but the clothes on his back, and he doesn’t even deserve those. So he nods, and he says nothing to protest when he hands him some rockets and directs him out of the room.

They come out of the hallway into a stairwell, then go down and out the door and they’re in a throne room.

Gem is waiting for them, as is Pearl, who beams when she sees him. “I’ll miss seeing you around,” Pearl tells him as he passes by, and he ducks his head, almost ashamed. He doesn’t know why she’s so kind to him, but he doesn’t deserve it.

Gem nods in his direction when he glances her way. “Good luck, Xornoth,” she says, which is the kindest thing she’s said to him, ever. “And to you, too. Take care of yourself,” she adds, looking over at her elven counterpart. “And remember, I might stop by the library soon, so make sure you keep an eye out for that.”

Xornoth isn’t sure what library she’s talking about, but decides against asking. If it’s important, they’ll tell him. Besides, the other elf seems to know what she’s talking about, so it’s not his problem.

With that, they leave, and head south. They fly over a large expanse of grasslands leading up to three tall peaks, which they skirt around. There’s a spruce forest, that bleeds into a dark oak forest, then they turn east and—

There it is. Rivendell. Just as beautiful as he remembers it, but at the same time, it’s different. There’s a statue that hadn’t been there before, one of a deer that can only be Aeor, and a lodge next to it, and…

And the royal palace is gone. Where it once stood is now an empty field. There’s evidence of life there, trampled pathways amid the tough grass, and fire pits, and lanterns hanging from poles, but the palace, Xornoth’s childhood home, is gone. Not even a trace of rubble remains.

He pulls up in shock, and the elf king notices almost immediately, whirling around and beating his wings furiously to remain aloft. “Xornoth?” He asks, an odd note of emotion in his voice, and Xornoth shakes his head slowly.

“What happened to…?” He manages, gesturing toward the empty spot, and the elf turns to look over his shoulder like he’d forgotten that the palace had ever stood there.

The other elf deflates slightly. “Oh. Right.” He clears his throat. “Exor burned it down that night. There were only a few survivors.”

Suddenly dizzy, Xornoth glides down to land at the base of a thick oak tree, then slides down to sit on a large root. Burying his face in his hands, he tries desperately to control himself, because the last thing he wants to do is show just how badly this has shaken him.

Just this one glimpse of his homeland, his kingdom, is apparently enough to make him come undone. He just can’t let the other elf know how far undone he’s become. If he finds out, he might not let him come home until he is emotionally stable.

He’ll never be stable, but he knows he’ll never be murderous, never be a danger. He can never risk becoming a monster again.

“I did that,” he whispers to himself, still barely believing it. So many people, servants, guards, their families, his family, all dead in one terrible night.

A hand on his shoulder makes him flinch, but he doesn’t look up. There’s only one person it could be, and why on earth the elven king is taking it upon himself to comfort him is beyond him. All he can do is act grateful and try not to wish bitterly that it were his mother, or his father. Or Scott. He’d die to have Scott with him again.

“It wasn’t you.”

“It was my hands, my body,” Xornoth tries to explain, “I did it, nevermind that Exor put the idea in my head. Why can’t you see that?”

“And why can’t you see that it wasn’t your idea or your will to do it?” The elf returns, just as insistent. “It’s not your fault. Never your fault, not this. No one blamed you. We… we mourned you.”

Xornoth looks up, peeking between his fingers at the cyan-haired elf. He’s hiding something, he’s almost certain of it; between the nervous twisting of fingers and the avoidance of eye contact, it’s slightly obvious, but Xornoth is also certain that he shouldn’t pry. He’s being given enough, he doesn’t need explanations.

(He needs a prison cell, a jail somewhere they can all forget about him like he’s the bad guy in a fairy tale who always fades into obscurity. He needs long torture to make penance for all his crimes, for all the hurt he inflicted. He needs a quick, sure death, a one-way trip to the deepest parts of hell.)

(He needs his family.)

(He’ll never get them.)

Instead, he scoffs, but heaves himself up to his feet. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you should never mourn the villain. That just comes back to bite you.”

“Thankfully, biting us is one of the things you didn’t do,” the elf jokes, “Though Joey might have been into that. I don’t know, though, that man is strange on a good day.”

He still has only a vague idea who Joey is, but he’s sure he’s someone important. He’ll ask later.

Instead, all he does is huff. “That doesn’t make things better.”

“No,” the elf agrees. “Only you can make it better. You have a second chance, Xornoth. Make the most of it.”

Notes:

I won't lie, Scott's line about Xornoth biting them and Joey being into it came out of nowhere but it gets me every time.

#creative writing #empires smp #fanfiction #how do I tag #writing #angst #fanfic #empiresblr #empires s1

4 notes · View notes

crisalidaseason · 5 months

Text

I don't know If you guys remember Spirit, the stallion, but that movie makes me cry whenever I watch it and the freaking soundtrack is a good part of why I cry profusely

Hans Zimmer and Bryan Adams did NOT need to go that hard on a horse movie

0 notes

yesthatssadirichardslove · 6 months

Text

Hans Zimmer talks about first North American tour dates in 7 years, the magic of composing for film

LOS ANGELES

For generations, German composer Hans Zimmer 's film scores have soundtracked magic movie moments in “The Lion King,” “Gladiator," the “Dark Knight” trilogy, and most recently, “Dune” and “Dune: Part Two.” This fall, Zimmer will bring his award-winning scores to the live stage.

His “Hans Zimmer Live” tour, which sold out in Europe, will make its way to the U.S. and Canada this fall, marking the first time Zimmer has performed in North America in seven years.

The last time, as some fans may recall, was a 2017 Coachella performance.

Over Zoom from New York, Zimmer said he was inspired after “refusing to get onto a stage for 40 years” because of something his friends, The Smiths' Johnny Marr and Pharrell Williams, told him.

“You have to look your audience in the eye. You can’t hide behind the screen forever. You know, you owe it to your, you know, audience,” he says they told him. And after Coachella, he realized: “I can do this,” he said.

Having done the run in Europe, “we're at the top of our game at the moment,” he says of his orchestra.

Don't expect a traditional, classical music setting or a piano concerto — at “Hans Zimmer Live,” there is no conductor, no sheet music in front of each musician, and not a single frame from any of the films he's referencing.

“I come from rock and roll and I believe in putting on a show,” he says. “People stay with us because we give them an experience which they’ve never had before... Life is hard. Life is tough these days. And people worked hard to go to pay for these tickets, so we better pull off a show that is absolutely worthy of them coming and seeing us."

“Hans Zimmer Live” kicks off at the Gas South Arena in Duluth, Ga. on Sept. 6 and will hit 17 cities across the U.S. and Canada before concluding at the Rogers Arena in Vancouver, British Columbia on Oct. 6.

The tour includes stops in Hollywood, Florida; Raleigh, North Carolina; New York; Baltimore; Boston; Montreal and Toronto; Minneapolis; Chicago; Fort Worth, Texas; Denver; Las Vegas; Los Angeles; Oakland, California, and Seattle.

Zimmer says attendees can expect a diverse audience. “I’ve looked out at the audience and there’s a mom with her grandson sitting next to a guy with a mohawk, sitting next to a man in a business suit, sitting next to another bunch of, you know, bikers,” Zimmer said. “So, it’s not just multi-generational, it’s multicultural.”

In more ways than one: Zimmer’s orchestra is from Ukraine; “Two weeks after the invasion started, we managed to get about half of them out of Odessa,” he says. Lebo M, who sings “The Lion King” theme, was a political refugee from South Africa when Zimmer first met him. Pedro Eustache, his woodwind player, is from Venezuela, “and he thinks he can probably never go back home,” says Zimmer.

“I have this very, very international group of players and ... part of what makes them such emotionally committed musicians is that they all have a story to tell you.”

“Hans Zimmer Live,” which has been recently rearranged, includes works from “Gladiator,” “Pirates of the Caribbean,” “The Dark Knight,” “Interstellar,” “The Lion King,” “The Last Samurai,” and “Dune.”

“Each piece is connected with the adventure of actually creating it, the adventure of actually making that movie, the adventure of the collaboration, the adventure of, you know, ‘How did we get here?", he says. "Where did this journey start? And how can we make sure that it never ends?

“Each one of those movies is painted in color and affected by what is going on around us. And they have all been extraordinary journeys.”

All of these films and their scores are vastly different, but Zimmer's idiosyncratic approach and arrangements should be considered the connective tissue. That, and a certain je ne sais quoi that makes an effective — and affecting — score.

“You need to be committed. You need to be honest. You can’t be sentimental,” he says of a successful score. “The other thing is, it’s the people who are performing it. Because if you think about it, the last actors that really get hired, the last actors that perform in a movie, are the musicians. So, I’m very careful about picking the people I work with.”

Tickets for “Hans Zimmer Live” will become available for purchase at www.hanszimmerlive.com, starting at March 22 at 10 am local time.

#yesthatssadirichardslove

0 notes

iveneverseenthesebowlsbefore · 9 months

Text

(Thought I'd post this separately in case any non fandom people were interested.)

I was thinking to myself the other day that maybe I don't get more engagement on my tunes because ppl don't know how hard I work on them (obvs it must be that) so because so many of you asked, here's a long ass post on how I write a (fan)song.

Part 1: The Idea

Most of the time, the idea's the hardest part for me. I'll get either lyrically or musically inspired one day and play around on guitar or piano or open garageband and scroll through loops but not come up with anything i like enough to want to develop. And it's really because there's no spark behind it. That's the best part of fandom songs, I never need help for inspiration.

I get accosted with feels from a show, decide I must write a song for it, think about Stede and Ed, open gb on my phone, pick some chords and open my mouth and see what comes out.

(Le beginning)

Usually i get a lyric or two, a phrase maybe, and the start of a melody. Tbh It all happens so fast.

But after 15 minutes or so i have the bones of something; some lyrics; chorus and a verse, and what story i want to tell and where I want it to go.

Part 2: Taking Shape

Moving to the desktop now, we got a notes app with the WIP lyrics up and a few tracks from the iphone of the chord progressions for the first verse and chorus.

Usually i just have a simple guitar part, some percussion loops and bass...although if anyone has ever heard any of my songs you may notice that 'bass' always means CELLOS because i REALLY like low strings cuz they are DRAMATIC and i grew up on too much HANS ZIMMER.

Anyway, that's when i put my headphones on and start to sing what i have into the mic. it usually sounds very silly. i talk to myself lots. There's lots of gibberish. There are many kitty cat pitter patter sounds. (From the cats, not me)

Basically here is when I shape the content of song - edit and finish the lyrics, figuring out what story I want to tell while I do.

If I can't get the melody and lyrics to flow, what needs to change? What rhythm might work where, what's awkward, what lyric is too cliche or could hit harder?

What instruments do i want in this song? Do I want to add any ahhs or mmms or ooos to the background? what part is boring, what type of sound might make things pop?

Musically, I take out anything that doesn't feel good to my ears and add in anything they want to hear. Lyrically i try to add more depth with less words at any necessary phrase changes - any constraints actually makes lyric-writing easier for me (rhyming is also great for that)

I sand it down, smooth it out; make it into a song I would want to listen to and as a vocalist one I want to sing. This is only a first draft of the song, but the more I like it, the better i'll sing it.

Part 3: Finalizing Melody/Adding Harmonies

Usually i take a break between pt 2 and pt 3. My uncle likes to say i wear a lot of hats doing the song thing and i think he's onto something. Songwriter hat, lyricist, arranger, vocalist, topliner, engineer, producer, i kinda have to dabble in all them to get a song into a song. I def wear some better than others tho. And arranging harmonies is probably my favorite. At least, this is the part that comes most naturally to my earballs.

First I'll either piece together or record a new rough lead vocal of the final melody. I'll probably sing through it a couple times just to make sure everything feels good and locked in. I'll pick my favorite take, mute the others, and at last, it's harmony time bitches.

I make a new vocal track, press play, and then stop and record at any place i hear there ought to be harmony. A lot of time that's like, everywhere.

Sound painting i call it.

What can I say, I did a lot of choir and i hear a lotta harmonies and I'm so adhd guys i just wanna put all the noTES EVRRYWHERE

I go through a few runs of this. I'll want to make sure i have everything i hear recorded, even if i don't use it, so i can figure out what actually sounds good. I then have a LOT of extemporaneous harmonies to go though. As i enjoy pain, I then go through those.

I sort of go back and forth between zooming out and zooming in during this part. Zooming out on the entire song, figuring out what doesn't click, what's too much, what needs more and what needs less and then zooming in on the actual harmony parts. Does the vocal blend blend? Does it sound sexy or just dissonant af?

The more parts I add the more i have to make sure something wonky doesn't go and wonk everything up. The harmonies are never very complicated, usually just a 3rd and maybe a 5th in places. But i like to do counter melodies sometimes and then put harmony parts on *those* as well. Sometimes i add a bass vocal or a high octave, sometimes i do that on only certain words or phrases.

At the end I'll usually end up with my lead vocal, a double at some or all the choruses, and pruned harmony tracks on the verses and choruses, bridge, and on any counter melody thing I've done at the end of the song. i listen again, rerecording any harmony parts that need some tightening. These are only rough vocals; this is to get all the parts down and recorded and ready to sing later.

After that, the hard part (of this step) is over and I can start to play around a bit. I'll listen for any places calling out for what i like to call ~sparkles~ - moments where some ear candy would enhance the song. A high octave heaped in reverb somewhere, maybe an echo effect for one word only.

Once i start the sparkles part well... o the vocal plugins... the reverb alone... all the different ambience and echo-y sounds you can try, "church reverb", "echo chamber reverb"...

(tag yourself I'm Prison Main Floor)

You guys there's just. So many presets. Wtf does 'dark rising hall' sound like? I dunno but i'm about to find the fuck out.

i lose time then. Some hours pass. Days mayhaps.

Part 4: Vocals

Oh vocals. See this part. This part sounds like fun right? The singing! I love the singing of the song! And I do actually! But this part? This isn't singing. This is recording. And it's the actual worst.

See, I am, at heart, a theatrical singer. A performer if you will. And if I may draw your attention to this microphone on the left here:

This one on the left? This is a dynamic mic. This is my friend. This is a mic you use on stage. Where some people belt into it and others stick the whole thing in their mouths. You can do whatever with dynamic mic. Dynamic mic don't mind. Dynamic mic loves you. Dynamic mic lives for the drama of the theater.

Now the mic on the right? This mic is a mic for recording in studios. This is a condenser mic. This is a very different mic. Condenser mic very sensitive. Condenser mic pick up a fly fart. The juicy details of it too.

i have a very strained relationship with the condenser mic.

Getting the final vocals down in an apartment with paper thin walls, squeaky floors, cats licking themselves (loudly too Daphne jesus), with a condenser mic, just getting the room sound sounding soundy enough is hard enough, but then i gotta sing into the thing!

i don't edit my vocals in a program like melodyne anymore because its too fucking hard and time consuming (aka pitch correcting the pitchy notes) which is a thing you absolutely should do when you're stacking as many harmonies as i stack. But again, lazy. This means i gotta get those babies on pitch as much as I can. I have to get them at a decent level - they can't be too loud or the mic gets mad, they can't be too quiet or the fly farts will drown out my voice.

With proper breath support and a nice warmup most of the time I can get a decent tone outta myself. But guess what, your girl here? She got that long covid. And when you have lungs that are supposed to be all hot air balloon shaped but instead have become more like knotted up twisty straws and you gotta breathe real good to get a nice tone that isn't brittle or pitchy...

oh and remember those harmonies i love arranging oh so much? Gdi me. Gdi.

So yeah this part's really hard. It may take a while depending on the state of my voice (or yk, lungs/general health) it'll get done over the span of several days, lately, because my voice gives out so quickly. But eventually ill have a few takes of each vocal part, maybe 3, of performances where my voice was in ok enough shape.

Oh but we're only halfway done this part.

Part 4a: Comping

Now its time to go through the song one line at a time. And listen to all three sung versions of that line. One at a time. And pick which one is least offensive to my ears (aka one with a good level, nice tone and intonation, on pitch, controlled, has decent phrasing and diction and feeling too. And one I sang the correct lyrics on. I flub them more than you'd think). And then put them all together on one track to make a Final vocal track. This is called comping vocals.

I hate comping vocals.

It always gets a little messy.

I am usually very very cranky at the end of comping vocals.

Cuz remember all those harmony tracks? Guess what. I gotta comp them too. And all those sparkles and any mmms and ahhs and stuff I added? Yep. They gotta be comped. And *then* i gotta blend them together with fade outs and fade ins so it doesn't sound like 3 takes spliced together. And then I gotta make sure there's no kitty feets in them. And then I gotta reorganize them; join the regions, bounce the tracks, rename files, so it's *not* so messy and not a nightmare to mix.

Man oh man. I love to sing but i hate this part. I always get there in the end. But i have a lot of curses to edit out of those takes ill tell ya what.

Part 5: Tightening It Up And Sending It Off

At this point i can take off the vocalist hat and go back to the song-writer/producer hat and concentrate on making this song a song other people wanna sing along with too. How much i work on this part depends highly on the song. Sometimes it feels ready where it is, sometimes not.

I listen again and pay attention to the dynamic movement of the song. Is there enough build, drama, ear candy, etc? Is there a part calling out for a random funky loop? Most importantly, is it the best version of the song my ears can hear?

i start trying things. Take instruments out in places, vary them in others. Mute everything but the percussion. is it too much, not enough? Mute everything but the percussion and bass, the heartbeat of the song. Is it vibin'?

I think about the characters, think about how i feel listening to the lyrics; do they evoke them the way I wanted it too? Does it say about them everything I wanted it too? Does it need something more at the end, a hook all throughout? Should i take a sparkle and expand on it?

A bitch can get lost in this phase. But I'm better at it than you'd think after writing all that out. Because really, i don't think. I'm just listening. What do i want to hear? It's an intuitive thing, a feeling thing.

When i don't hear any places left I can improve it's time to send it to co-producer and engineering master badass uncle man. His ears are actually the best ears. They are grammy winning ears. I used to get intimidated sending my songs to him but now after working with him for so long, i just get super excited. What's *he* gonna hear??

Part 6: Edits

Producer notes! This part might be lengthy or not at all - basically what i said, what does Uncle Badass hear? He is very very good at hearing things. Sometimes he'll hear something sticking out that isn't working, sometimes he'll hear that the song needs a fucking church bell like in Safe to Land (which i maintain is a legit stroke of genius it works so well. 'Member Ricky's exploding clock? Wtf. UB don't even watch the show, how'd he know?)

Sometimes he'll notice a vocal thing, a harmony he hears and thinks I could add, a part of the song that needs to go somewhere different. Maybe something will sound wonky in the chords or harmonies.

Sometimes, i didn't get the vocals sounding quite right at all and so...yup. You guessed it. They need a total redo. Part 4 here we go again.

Sometimes it'll be the guitar part i have sucks ass because i'm not a very good guitar player. But hey just my luck. Guess who is.

(Uncle Badass)

So yeah he'll add some sweet ass guitar for me.

He will also tune up my fake instruments to sound a little less fake. For example bass (not the cellos this time); i am not a bass player and it's not the part of a song i attune to naturally unless it stands out, which means the bass parts in my songs are very one note most of the time (ha); he'll add some walk up/downs, maybe, move it around so it sounds more like s bassist playing a bass and not someone pushing a button on a screen. it's pretty neat.

Once we've decided the edits to the arrangement and I've done and finalized any vocal edits I needed to do then it's mixin' time.

Part 7: Mixin', Mastering, And The Final Mix

This is my favorite part because i don't have to do anything. Well mostly. I start to think about like, oh, sharing, I have to like, put it on the online places. Because if I made an art and no one see/hears it, did I really make an art??

This involves very little because i am bad at it.

I really love people like, listening to my songs, that's the point yk? But I don't like anywhere but, eh, tumblr. So usually i just tell my small group of hellsite frez, only a fraction of whom are in the fandom thing the song is about, and make a bad lyric video. I used to do the twitter and the other places; there was a hot minute during the Hannibal times that my songs were getting some real listen-age, it was fun! And i made a couple people cry. Which was the goal really so I've peaked.

But yk, I like my songs. I like it when other people interact with and like my songs too. But i don't really care if they do or they don't anymore. It's the getting older part I s'pose. And also fan edits are like 10 seconds long now. My millennial ass with all my 4 minute show-tunes don't have a chance on this here musk's internet. But I digress.

Anywho, while I'm not doing much, my uncle's *working* on this thing. He's been doing this for... yk what im not gonna tell you how long he's been doing this for because he'd say it makes him sound old. And it's impossible. Did you see that pic? That mofo will never be old.

So yeah, Uncle Badass puts on his engineer hat and makes this thing sound like a song. I've tried my best at audio engineering; i haven't quite gotten it down, but I know enough to know how little I know, you know? It's pretty amazing, I send him a lot of noise and he cleans it up and glosses it all up and finishes it and makes it into a song that sounds like a song.

After a few days he'll usually send me back a gorgeous thing and i'll be like OMG THIS IS A GORGEOUS THING. and then listen to it thrice more and be like OK LET'S TWEAK THIS PART OF YOUR GORGEOUS THING

This usually is just more arrangement talk, nitty gritty details this time tho, maybe i want an instrument to come in a measure earlier, maybe i want to just *hear* that and see if i like it better (and then ofc, he would make that edit for me...and many times...I don't actually like it better...and he un-edits it. But the ears. They want want they want yk?)

We go back and forth a lot during this part.

We tweak here and there, slowly but surely morphing the song into what I heard in my brain when I wrote it back in Part 1, when it was just an idea and a lil stanza in my notes app.

This is a very cool part. Cuz then it's done! It's mixed and mastered and ready to go and just THERE! I can hear it! It's real! It's me! And we made a whole bunch of sound that didn't exist before! How cool is that?

Ahh finished song dopamine is the best.

So, yeah! That's how I write a song. And how it goes from a lil idea to a finished Art. And it feels good to finish an art! And then I post it on tumblr dot com and it gets 2 notes! But hey

#arielle rambles #i hyperfocused hardddd when I wrote this all out can you tell #so now you gotta scroll past it again #mwahahaah #suffer my interests nerds #songwriting #my tunes #music #long post

1 note · View note

youngbloodbuzz · 6 years

Video

#videos #music #the prince of egypt #hans zimmer #HANS MY MAN YOU REALLY DIDN'T NEED TO GO THIS HARD BUT YOU DID IT ANYWAYS AND I'M GRATEFUL #the part when the sea wall starts to collapse??????? fucking masterpiece both visually and musically #hmmm i'm legit crying pisces season is off to a gr8 start yall

6 notes · View notes

new-sandrafilter · 3 years

Photo

How Timothée Chalamet Channeled The Blockbuster Pressure of Leading Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ Back Into His Role – Venice Q&A

DEADLINE: In a few days Dune will premiere at the Venice Film Festival. You first met Denis Villeneuve about the role in May 2018 and started shooting in the early half of 2019. It was always going to be a long journey, but the pandemic stretched it even further. How does it feel to have finally arrived at this moment?

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET: You know, I like to think that with every film I’ve done, whether it’s Call Me by Your Name or Beautiful Boy, The King, or Little Women, the character you play is almost a piece of your flesh. And that’s always true, but simply from the perspective of how long the shoot for Dune was, and also the arc that Paul Atreides is on, as well as the huge love and almost biblical connection that so many people have for the book and the original film, it really felt… tectonic, if that’s the right word for it. Just getting to this finish line feels like: phew.

And independent of what the film is now, and what it has become, the experience of making it was I was put in such a safe environment, which you can never take for granted as a human, as an actor, but especially when you’re just starting your career, and when this is the first film of this size you’ve ever done.

To get to work with Denis on it, to get to work with someone of his caliber, let alone on a book that he considers the book of his youth and one of the things he has connected to the most… When he would have it in his hands on set, his body language would become that of a fan; of a kid who had fallen in love with the book at home in Montreal. And when all the kids around him were wearing hockey jerseys with their favorite players’ names on the back, this was a kid wearing a jersey that said ‘Spielberg’ on the back.

For it all to come together, especially with the added challenge of the pandemic, it has all combined to make this moment feel especially spicy [laughs].

DEADLINE: The entire ensemble will show up in Venice.

CHALAMET: Right. And I just can’t believe it; Jason Momoa has the number one film on Netflix right now with Sweet Girl, which I just watched. And since we shot, Zendaya has had all this success with Euphoria and Malcolm & Marie. Just to be part of this cast, period, let alone as one of the title characters, it’s really the shit you dream of.

And let me not forget, too—and I know I’ve told you this before—that The Dark Knight was the movie that made me want to act. That movie had a score by Hans Zimmer, and he has done the score for Dune. And it’s almost not what you’d think. It’s totally appropriate and excellent for the movie, but he has somehow managed to do something subversive, in my opinion. It’s a pinch-me moment all over.

DEADLINE: So, take me back to the start. Is it true you had a Google alert set up to track the latest news on this project before you were ever cast?

CHALAMET: Yeah, it’s true [laughs]. Not right away—Legendary had the rights and was developing it—but as soon as Denis got involved, I set up a Google alert and that’s when I got the book.

In total honesty, I think my understanding of Dune at that point was from a graphic novel I’d seen at Midtown Comics when I was shopping for Yu-Gi-Oh! cards when I was about 10. The year you and I first met, when I was there at Deadline Contenders with Call Me by Your Name, that would have been 2017 or early 2018, and Denis was there with Blade Runner. I remember I was trying to put myself in front of him as much as possible and set up a meeting with him. We had a night at the BAFTA where one of my good friends, Stéphane Bak—who’s also an actor—saw Denis across the room and was like, “Hey buddy, he’s right over there.” So, we went over to talk to him. I kept trying to put myself in front of him, but I didn’t really get a sense of the possibility [of working with him].

I was about halfway through the book when I got the call that he was going to be the president of the jury at the Cannes Film Festival, and I was in London prepping The King. He asked me if I could come out there, so I quickly busted through the second half of the book as best I could. So, like, the first half of my copy is properly annotated and full of my thoughts, and then the second half I just raced through. And then I had that meeting with him, and it was such a joy.

I’m struggling with this even now, as I’m working with Paul King [on Wonka], because he’s another guy I have huge respect and admiration for, and it’s hard to feel on a level. Not that you ever are, because as an actor you’re a cog in the machine, and you’ve got to be humble to the vision of the director. But with Denis, he was pacing around the room, throwing ideas around, in some fancy suite in Cannes, and all I could think was that a year before I was just sat on a stoop on 9th Street in the East Village or something.

DEADLINE: Was that your first time in Cannes?

CHALAMET: Yeah. Well, bizarrely, my sister would do dance camps growing up. Ballet intensive programs in a town called Mougins, which is nearby Cannes, so I spent a lot of time there growing up, but never during the festival, and not on the Riviera. To get to be there for the festival was just nuts. I went to see the Romain Gavras movie, I think, and it was just a huge joy.

I got attached [to the role in Dune] a couple of months after that, and it was nerve-wracking from the announcement, because like I said before, the fans of the book, and the fans of David Lynch version, the computer game, and everything, there’s so much love and strength of feeling. And so much of our pop culture and films and books have been derived from Dune, and all the philosophy the book. I’ve been shocked to learn how many people have a next-level connection to the book. I compare it to how our generation grew up with Harry Potter, and that one makes sense to me. But it’s cool to see with Dune also, when you actually sit down and read it… It’s not that it’s a quote-unquote “hard read” or anything, but it’s not made to be consumed easily, I think that’s fair to say.

So, I was grateful to be working on something of this size not only with Denis Villeneuve leading it, who between Polytechnique, Incendies and Prisoners had nailed the smaller indie film across languages, and then had nailed Arrival and Blade Runner, but who, in his own words, he didn’t feel he’d made his greatest film yet. But also, to be working with this cast. I don’t know if there’s some nightmare version of a film where a young lead is not supported by the rest of his cast, where every one of them had been the leads in their own huge projects. But on this, everyone was there to support, and I think it’s because we all wanted to be foot soldiers for Denis, and I think we understood the potential, based on the script by Eric Roth, Jon Spaihts and Denis, that this could be something really special.

DEADLINE: I don’t have a connection to Dune; this movie is really my first experience of the story. What strikes me is this is clearly an enormous universe—a broad canvas being painted with various families and factions and politics and mythos—but that ultimately it comes down to very elemental, human themes, and we feel them through this character you play, Paul Atreides. Did those themes help ground the experience for you?

CHALAMET: Yes, and I would give the credit entirely to Denis. He would constantly say on set that he had some opposing drumbeat or something. In my diminished intellectual standing, I didn’t understand it, but it was like some vision for the movie based on how biblical the book is that tries to tackle so much that it doesn’t tackle anything. I think he felt the need to be close to a character in it, and Paul is that guy in the book. He’s a character that is still in formation, like a lump of clay, which makes him a great figure for the audience to mirror off.

It speaks, I think, to Denis’ premonition and his directing ability that there were times when we’d move on from a shot or move on from a scene, and I swear, literally, we’d go back because Denis wanted to get something over my shoulder, or push in on my reaction, just to make sure [it stayed on Paul].

And again, it’s something where I’m pinching myself. I had the best time on Interstellar, and that was one of my favorite films I’ve ever worked on, but it was very much something where I was aware of when I had the opportunity to do real acting. And on a movie like Dune, again, one could think it would get lost in the scale and scope. But I felt every day like my plate was full.

DEADLINE: One of those themes is fear, and Paul must overcome his to become the person he needs to be. When you are number one on the call sheet on a project of this scale, and the cast list reads like an address book of Hollywood in the 21st century, and Legendary has injected hundreds of millions of dollars into this production, and it’s all falling on your shoulders, I have to imagine fear is a theme you can readily relate to.

CHALAMET: Oh yeah, and they can bleed into each other for sure—not to diminish the other work that goes in. It’s great when your life experience can inform the role. That’s not at all to say I’m on some crusade in the universe or anything, but definitely… And I had that same good fortune with The King I think. My life is not nearly as significant or as exciting as Paul or Prince Hal, but we all share an unwitting needle in the haystack feeling. On The King that feeling was because I was so new to having a career. On Dune it’s because of, as you say, just feeling the pressure of the hugeness of the project in all those different ways. Those things can absolutely inform each other.

And then there are the moments of glee that come, too, like seeing Jason Momoa running at you at a hundred miles an hour, or just getting to shoot the shit with Josh Brolin, or getting to do a scene with Oscar Isaac. I felt so supported, whether it was Rebecca Fergusson or Charlotte Rampling. When Zendaya came, it was a total breath of fresh air, and she’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. I just got really lucky, and I can’t wait to see them all in Venice.

Denis split the book in half, and the hope is a second movie will get a greenlight. That’d expand Zendaya’s role in the story.

CHALAMET: Definitely, Chani will play a huge role in the next film. I don’t know if there’s a script yet, but just based on the book, along with Lady Jessica [Rebecca Fergusson], they have a lot to do together, let’s put it like that. And Zendaya was incredible in this movie; the moment she pulls the mask down, it felt properly showstopping and powerful. I was hiding behind the camera, counting my lucky starts, because I was there in month two of the shoot and here was a total powerhouse just coming in for the first time.

And as I said before, this was before I’d seen Euphoria and Malcolm & Marie. She’s doing such incredible work and is just trailblazing her own path, and she’s so, so cool. She also happens to be in the most-watched trailer of the moment, too, for Spider-Man: No Way Home. I cannot wait for that movie, and I was there, by the way, with everybody else, clicking through the trailer frame by frame looking for clues [laughs].

#timmy #timothee chalamet #dune movie #dune 2021 #denis villeneuve

97 notes · View notes

aulentale · 3 years

Text

OKAY ALRIGHT I'M GONNA BE LIVE ANSWERING MY THOUGHTS ON THE SONGS I am so sorry they won't be terribly cohesive

main title: AYO THIS IS THAT SONG?? I've heard this one before, didn't realize it came from this. How is it calming and like building tension at the same time. The horns slap so hard.

Stampede: Oooooh this sounds like its flowing almost, the choir and the drums all add urgency but this sounds proper epic. You were right. Drums and choir are a need now it helps so much

Burn it all: this is the sickest blend of a bunch of different styles. Never expected a trap beat layered over a choir to sound awesome but it works surprisingly well

Your father would be proud:

THERES A LIGHTSABRE?? THATS DOPE!! In all seriousness this one is hitting me in the feels. WAIT IF I RECALL THIS CORRECTLY I DID CRY AT THIS SCENE IN THE MOVIE- IS THIS NOT THE SCENE WHERE THE DEATH STAR WORKS MAN i can't be crying rn I got stuff to do-

Po finds the truth: you even warned me and I nearly fell out of my chair. Geez that comes at you fast. Idk what instrument is playing the melody right after that drop, I can't tell if its a string or what but it sounds dope. Towards the end it almost has like a magical feel to it and wow does that hit different. For a split second I thought it was gonna go into the hobbit theme

Glorious purpose: major spooky vibes. I like the bassoon(?) or whatever it is, shakes your chest cavity kinda vibes. Also, I could've sworn there was a minecraft zombie sound effect. Short and sweet but gives you a sense of doom in a good way, I enjoyed that

Tai Lung escapes: I have a very sudden and profound respect for hans zimmer, more than I did previously. The little shift from deep booming instruments to like flutes and stuff in the middle hits. WOAH IT SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE A PORTAL SONG THATS SICK. I have sudden urgency to do my homework faster cause of the build in tempo (is that the right word? Who knows, it’s just fast). I could’ve sworn it would end like three times and it just keeps going it’s v satisfying

A blessing and a fessing: oh I can’t tell if this is bad but I got like Hispanic Jurassic park vibes from the first like five seconds. Love the suspense from the strings. Oh this lives up to its name so well like it’s suspenseful and then calming with just a hint of the previous tense undertones.

Dumbledores farewell: okay so I’ve never seen the movies (evidenced by me accidentally misspelling dumbledore as dumbledoor initially) but man yeah it just hits you in the feels. Short but sweet, it’s exactly what it needs to be. The last note kinda leaves you aching

We built our own world: also short and sweet and I love the cello (?) whatever the sounds are in the background, almost gives you a sense of megalophobia, like there’s something bigger back there. It could easily just be the high strings and yet there’s that added dimension. 10/10

Comic book: THAT BASS DROP THO OH MY GOSH easily my favourite on the playlist. Shame it’s so short cause oh my gosh that hit. And like the glitchiness of the track?? H I T S. love it

La valse de l’amour: quite the shift from the last song but like is this a waltz scene? Feels like it could be. Nice easy listening and just overall. Soft? WAIT was that a key change?? Or maybe they just started playing higher towards the end. Either way, oh that last chord sounded beautiful.

Alright so I’m so incredibly sorry this took a while but it was worth the wait thank you sm @grape-flavored-rukuuuuuu don’t worry I didn’t forget about it

Here’s the playlist if anyone else wants to listen to it

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/18Af6J37hBuvHzXQt0Ys2r?si=VGv1UPOCQpODbSAe-cOjV

And here’s the one with all the honourary mentions!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32iYp0tKFRTiwz7M3CnOGj?si=HAUZSnCWQcO3m2holU_WYg

#grape flavoured ruku #these songs were banger thank you again #I’m so sorry it took so long for me to finally post but!!! i enjoyed every second of it

8 notes · View notes

katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part 25) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 25: Y/N and Dean struggle with the aftermath of their split. Working together proves to be difficult, but other relationships within the ranch family took a hit as well. When the cowboy thinks the day can’t get much worse, complications arise, forcing him to make yet another difficult decision. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: (opening scene) The Eye - Brandi Carlile. (Ride with Meadow scene) Home - Hans Zimmer. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Beta’d by my mom (yes, you read that right. My mom reads my stuff and is on Tumblr). Thank you, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @kittenofdoomage, @manawhaat, @waywardbeanie, @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me with this story. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

With frustrated motions, Y/N stuffs her clothes into a bag, not even bothered to sort the items out. Her cheeks are tear-stained once again and she wipes at them angrily. Stop crying, it won’t get you anywhere, she scolds herself, done with feeling this emotional. After all, today is Monday, just another day at the ranch, and they have a lot of work to do. Garth and Ellen did the necessary stable work, but the horses which are usually trained by Jo, Dean, and herself had three days off while their riders were in Flagstaff.

Dean. Just the name reverberating in her head forces her to pause her actions. She dips her chin, closes her eyes, and takes a breath. Why? That’s the question she keeps asking herself. Why did he break up with her? Why did he pretend to care, only to hurt her the way he did? Why has he become so bitter, so selfish, so unlike the man she thought he was?

The questions remain unanswered, and she doesn’t expect they will give her any consolation either. That was the whole issue to begin with, wasn’t it? He can’t be honest. Apparently, he doesn’t think she’s capable of bearing the load he is meant to share with his partner. Apparently, she’s not good enough. Just like she didn’t meet her first boyfriend’s standards, who got tired of her spending more time with her horses than with him. Her second relationship ended in a fiasco as well, this time it was his jealousy of her success that caused the split. Yesterday proved that the third time clearly isn’t a charm. But neither of her previous significant others ever caused a cataclysm as the one Dean has left behind. Her heart is a wasteland now.

“Are you leaving?” She’s pulled away from her thoughts by Jo’s voice, her tone matching the horrified expression on her face. She stands in the doorway, looking down at the open suitcase on the floor and the unzipped bag. All of a sudden, Y/N realizes what the scene must look like. “No. I’m just sorting out my washing,” she says quickly. “Oh…” the blonde cowgirl sighs, relieved. “For a second there I thought--” “I won’t let your scumbag cousin chase me away, Jo,” her friend assures her.

Truth be told, though, she has been thinking about it. Last night she had typed down her information on a booking website, ready to confirm her flight back to Freeport, but as her finger hovered over the ‘confirm’ button, she closed the tab and slammed her laptop closed. The intern came here on a mission. She is going to prove to her parents and to herself that she has what it takes to run her own ranch and that she deserves that business loan. She is not going to abort just because her heart is broken, come hell or high water.

“Well, good. I would have roped you like a cow and tied you to the saddle anyway,” Jo scoffs, leaning against the doorframe.

The cowgirl chuckles as she collects the last of her dirty laundry, zips up the bag, and puts it on the bed. The sight of the not-particularly comfortable mattress has her wishing she could crawl back under the covers and get some much-needed sleep. That’s not an option, however, and so she takes her hat from the corner bedpost and places it on her head. Before she goes out, she quickly checks her makeup in the mirror, but thankfully her tears haven’t smudged her waterproof eyeliner and mascara, and her foundation is still covering the bags under her eyes. It’s been a while since she hid behind the beauty-products, but the confidence Dean gave her has disappeared the second he ended their relationship, so she put her mask back on. There is no way she will give her ex-boyfriend the satisfaction of witnessing just how broken she is.

Y/N inhales deeply and squares her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stares at her reflection. The woman who looks back at her is fierce and resilient; the complete opposite of the little girl that’s hiding inside. Of course, she doesn’t want to face the day nor the man who hurt her, but she is left with no choice. There is so much more at stake here; her future, her career. This is business, and she will treat it as such. Y/N glances at Jo, giving her a nod, and her friend smiles faintly doing the same.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Dean pours himself his third cup of coffee. Saying that he had a rough night, is putting it mildly. The first digit of his alarm clock had already changed into a ‘2’ when he finally drifted off, only to jolt awake an hour and a half later, his bedsheets clinging to his sweat-covered skin. For the first time in years, a nightmare has caused havoc, images of his worst memories coming through cracks in the walls he built around all that childhood trauma. After freshening up, he laid in bed again while last night’s events alternated with those same disturbing scenes he saw in his dreams, the sad motion picture of sorrow and heartbreak projected on the ceiling. He gave up on sleeping around four-thirty in the morning, got dressed, and sat out on the porch until the sun came up. But no matter how hard he focused on the sounds of the night that tried to soothe him, he couldn't get her out of his mind. The pain laced in her desperate voice, the tears that fell because of him. But after those hurtful images, he also remembers that bright smile, her giggles, the sparkle in her eyes when she has achieved something. Her tenderness, her touch… It hasn’t even been twelve hours and he’s already craving Y/N, fighting an addiction for a drug he can never have again. The girl who is no longer his Yankee.

A door squeaks and Dean glances aside, immediately redirecting his gaze back to the coffee mug on the small kitchen counter when Y/N comes into view, followed suit by Jo. Instantly, the tension in the living room shoots through the roof, the crooked, little bunkhouse barely able to maintain the strain. He doesn’t say anything, but thankfully Garth and Benny do exchange a ‘good morning’ with the girls, the silence interrupted by the casual exchange.

He spots her perfectly applied makeup, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail that doesn’t allow a single strand to escape the rubber band. Her shirt is neatly tucked into her jeans, ironed and spotless, just like the day when she arrived at the ranch. Even though she looks breathtaking, the vision saddens him; she’s back to being the woman who needs to have everything under control. He gets it, though, because when she took his advice to loosen up, she let her guard down. If she had kept both hands on the reins, Y/N would have never allowed him to get so close and comfortable. Dean only made things worse for her, and now she was left to pick up the pieces of all that he broke.

Without saying a word, he grabs his coffee and pushes the door handle down to make his exit, not wanting to make her life more difficult than he already has.

Ultimately, this Monday was bound to get worse with every passing minute. Dean decided to get an early start before breakfast and got on the tractor, but when the ranch hand tried to back up in order to drag the arena, he couldn't get the old John Deere into reverse. A glance underneath soon determined why and he exclaimed a loud ‘fuck!’ when he detected the puddle of gearbox-oil on the dusty ground. Turning the fresh horses out only added to his agitation, especially when the youngsters stirred up the palomino stallion Led while the wrangler was hand-walking him. The Quarter is still recovering from the nasty tendon injury he suffered on the job, and isn’t supposed to be bouncing off the concrete like a rubber ball on a leash, but tell that to an energetic horse who has barely been out of his box for the past month. Garth readied a horse for his boss, which he managed to ride before breakfast, but Dean was unfocused and gave up after thirty minutes.

Now, they were all quietly eating their breakfast, the delicious meal giving them some consolation. Ellen observes the awfully silent crew, exchanging a look with her daughter, who with a slow shake of her head tells her mother to not bring it up, and so she doesn’t. The head wrangler is the first to get up from his seat, rinse his plate in the sink, and return to the stables. The others follow his example, the barn soon buzzing with activity.

Y/N works like a dog, mucking out the stable in record time without pausing. It’s a good distraction for her reeling mind, the hard labor ridding her of the frustration that boils her blood whenever she thinks of the man who ruined her faith in true love. Garth, sensing that the intern was fine on her own, took the tough job of raking the arena by hand, since machinery has let them down. Meanwhile, Jo and Dean train the animals as per usual, but there’s no bantering between them during the cool down. In fact, the wrangler’s cousin has decided to ignore him altogether.

Getting more irritated with every second passing, the horseman dismounts the six-year-old gelding named Santana, deciding that a light workout is enough for today. The wrangler is always careful to not let his emotions bleed into his work, but he’s finding it difficult to keep himself in check. Jo has already parked her horse next to the bay Quarter and has tacked down the buckskin without granting Dean a look. He sighs; Jo is not easily going to forgive him for hurting her friend, but he still tries to break the stifling silence.

“Can you pass me the water?” he asks, nodding at the yellow garden hose that’s rolled up by the faucet. Without even granting him a look, the ranch owner’s daughter throws the showerhead in his direction, the nozzle clattering on the tiles in front of Dean’s feet. He sighs, annoyed. “So this is how it’s gonna be?” he scoffs. “I get that you’re mad, but you can at least t--” “I have nothing to say to you,” she snaps.

It’s not the first time Jo is angry with him, because the two have a habit of getting on each other’s nerves. This time it’s different, though, and the bitterness in her tone sends a clear message that he has burned his bridges. Gritting his teeth, he lets the comment slide, deciding that it’s useless to fire back a counter. She has a solid point after all; he doesn’t deserve her sympathy in the slightest. Figuring that these will be the only words they exchange for at least a couple of days, the cowboy begins to hose down Santana, when Jo turns on her heels with her horse’s lead rope in one hand and her fist firmly planted on her waist. “You know what? I do have something to say. You just don’t get to speak in return,” she kicks off, about to unleash her wrath. Dean lifts his gaze from the dirt and sweat that he’s washing out of his horse’s coat, for the first time looking into his cousin’s fiery eyes. The petit cowgirl, who is easily nine inches shorter than the man before her, is intimidating nonetheless. He takes a breath, bracing himself for impact. Here it comes.

“You’re a cold-hearted, spineless, self-absorbed dick, know that? For once in your life, you’ve got something good goin’, someone who was willing to look past your gigantic ego and your daddy issues, yet the first thing you do when life gets tough, is drop her like a hot potato. Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused the poor girl? Because I do! She wouldn’t want me to tell you this, but she cried for hours, hours, and that’s on you! Guess who had to comfort her, huh?” Jo goes off. “I am so far past mad; I am furious! I really thought you had finally found a reason to change into something better than the abbreviated piece of nothing that you are now, but it seems like Y/N wasn’t the only one who was naive.” “You done?” the wrangler says coldly when she pauses to catch her breath. “Go hump a cactus, Dean,” she sneers.

With those words, Jo strides away, the large animal next to her obediently following her, well aware that now is not the time to be stubborn. The man who’s left with the poignant insults still echoing inside his head, pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, staring at his feet for a second before he sniffs and focuses on the task at hand again. He might have pretended that her message left him unbothered, but the opposite is true. Jo could as well slap him across the face; it would hurt less.

Defeated, the wrangler takes Santana to his box and removes the halter from the large animal’s head. The sweet horse seeks contact, nudging her nose against Dean’s shoulder. He rubs the Quarter’s withers before he exits the stable, appreciating the only kindness that he’s received so far this morning.

“Dean?” He tenses, not expecting his name to fall off the lips of the woman who he parted from only yesterday. When the cowboy meets her gaze, the look Y/N gives him is as cold as the tone of her voice. “I need a word,” she says, although it sounds more like a demand. “S - sure,” he stutters, glancing down briefly before he looks back up again, suddenly nervous. He’s not sure if he can handle being scolded by his ex-girlfriend as well. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together anymore,” she states formally. “I’d like a new supervisor.”

Dean cocks his head back slightly, unbalanced by the appeal. He rubs his temple, averting his eyes but then nods, acknowledging that she’s probably right, even though the request is a painful one. “Yeah, uh - sure. I’ll ask Garth,” he stammers, estimating that he would be the obvious choice since she’s so close with Jo. He wouldn’t want their friendship to be tainted by the difference in rank. “Okay,” the intern responds, her expression stark and strained, before she walks past him.

Motionless, the head wrangler remains on his spot, setting his jaw and closing his eyes for a second. Somehow, he didn’t expect their first exchange to be strictly business. Her stance is so different from what he’s grown used to. Even on the night they met when she gave him a hard time, the tension between them didn’t feel as heavy as it does now. He realized when he called it quits that she would struggle with his decision, but Jo’s confirmation that she spent most of last night crying over their separation has him desperate to ease the pain.

“Y/N…” he says softly while turning before she’s too far gone to pick up on his voice. “I have work to do,” she cuts off, shooting him a short glare over her shoulder.

Dean swallows thickly while watching her leave, fast and determined strides taking her as far away from him as possible. Damn it, he really did ruin his chances of even maintaining any sort of a friendship, didn’t he? He’s not sure what else he expected after the way they parted, but despite the loathing and vexed look she just shot him that feels like a bullet to the heart, he’s glad. Let her be angry, let her hate him. It will be easier for her to deal with those emotions, than just the overwhelming sense of sadness. He knows, because he hasn’t felt this devastated, empty, and incomplete since his family fell apart; he’s talking from experience. Wishing the day was over already, the cowboy adjusts his hat and gets back to work, hoping that riding will offer him the therapy he so desperately needs.

Unfortunately, the day doesn’t pass by nearly as fast as Dean would like to. After riding five horses, he, Benny, and Garth use their lunch break to look at the beat-up tractor that once again has let them down. The head wrangler doesn’t mind skipping his midday meal; he would rather avoid sitting across from Y/N in a room overflowing with awkwardness, plus, he’s not hungry anyway.

The machine from 1979 was bound to die on the crew sooner than later, but after the farrier slash mechanic discovers metal particles in the gearbox fluid, it becomes clear that a simple oil change isn’t going to cut it this time. “Yep, she’s toast,” Benny sighs, wiping his dirty hands with a cloth. “Just what we need,” his friend grunts. He’s not looking forward to his uncle’s response to the setback. “I’ll tell Bobby.” “I can if you want me to,” the stable boy - who is also responsible for the machinery - offers. Dean purses his lips slightly, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans while he stares at the old John Deere absently. “Nah, I’ll do it. I got a question for you, though. Do you mind supervising Y/N from now on?” Garth shakes his head, taking in his boss, somewhat confused. “No, not at all.” “Good,” the wrangler replies quickly, thankful that the slender employee takes on the task without question. The clueless young man didn’t pick up on the relationship between Dean and the intern to begin with, and he would rather keep him in the dark, especially now that it has ended. He knocks on the rusty hood of the tractor before he heads off. “I’ll see y’all in a bit. Can you start rolling out the hay to the pastures with the wheelbarrows? It’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer without this old thing.”

The shade inside the stables is welcoming, and not just because it offers cooler temperatures. Dean’s eyes are still painfully sore from the lack of sleep and he rubs at them again, trying to stop them from burning. Shit, and it’s only Monday, he sighs to himself. The three-day event over the weekend means no time off for the employees who attended. The last time he didn’t have to show up at seven in the morning or earlier was late September, which means that he has been working twelve-hour plus shifts for fourteen days straight now. Work never stops on a ranch. The horses depend on him; they will always need food, a clean stable and exercise, no matter how tired, lovesick, or miserable he is.

The cafeteria is already empty. His aunt is probably at the guesthouses to change the sheets and towels, giving the accommodations a quick once-over. However, he finds a post-it on the long table with his name on it; ‘Don’t forget to eat. Bacon sandwiches are in the fridge - Ellen’. As the cowboy smiles for the first time today, he wonders if Bobby has told his wife anything about John’s unexpected visit in Flagstaff, hoping that he hasn’t. Knowing his aunt, she’s going to sit him down for some sweet tea and a talk, even though previous attempts of having a conversation as such proved to be unsuccessful. He appreciates her concern, though, the idea of his surrogate mom caring about him offering Dean some solace.

The wrangler walks through the high barn doors on the other side, the sun doing its very best to cheer him up, but the rays don’t reach his soul. He makes his way to the Singer’s home, reckoning he will find Bobby there. As per usual, Dean takes off his hat and hangs it on the coat hanger, kicking off his boots before he proceeds to the office in the back of the house. After knocking, he pushes the door ajar, finding his uncle behind his desk. The place is still a mess, but the occupant’s features aren’t draped in shadows like the last time he was here. The blinders are open, the window a passe-partout of the Joshua tree, together with the paddocks and pastures surrounding it.

The rancher looks up when his nephew enters. “Hey, son. How’s the tractor comin’?” “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s fried. The oil is swimming with debris,” Dean tells, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “Metal?” Bobby questions. When the young man across from him nods, he curses. “Balls!”

Dean presses his lips into a firm line, keeping still in the worn chair to prevent it from squeaking. His uncle seemed to be in a good mood after the successful show, but he can tell that this setback has put a strain on the old man’s frame of mind.

“You’re gonna call the service station?” the head wrangler wonders. “No, that’s gonna cost us. We finally managed to make some money, I ain’t planning on spending it on that damned thing.” The rancher adjusts his ball cap before leaning back in his chair. “You boys can give it a go first, open up that gearbox, see what’s broken. I’ll order parts once you figure out what’s wrong with that piece of shit.”

Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, Bobby sighs, but then returns his focus to Dean. “There’s somethin’ else I need to discuss with you.” His right-hand raises his eyebrows slightly, his interest peaked. “What’s that?” “It’s about Cain,” his uncle murmurs. “Apparently MacLeod didn’t tell the entire story.” Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Should I be surprised? I’m not sure what kinda vibes you picked up from that shady dude, but I sure as hell don’t trust him for the life of me.” “I don’t either. That’s why I think we should reconsider that deal.” Bobby rests his elbows on the armrests of his chair, forking his fingers together in his lap. He expected some resistance from Dean, but not such a strong reaction as his nephew fires back.

“What?! Are you serious?” he counters, perplexed. “You’re just gonna wipe it off the table?” “Not ‘just’, but we need to consider our options,” his boss returns. “How many options do we have exactly? Because the way I see it, this arrangement is a pretty damn good one. It’s good money, a steady income with the prospect of a huge bonus, not to mention what doors it might open for the future. This horse might be the break we need,” Dean advocates, remembering Y/N’s words clearly when she summed up all the possibilities that Cain might bring with him. “Look, I know Fergus is a proper dick, but he has a reputation to protect. There’s too much at stake for him, and I don’t believe he will double-cross us. If we deliver, he’s gonna pay good bucks.” “And that’s where we might have a problem; actually delivering,” Bobby returns, taking in his head wrangler. Dean draws his head back, slightly hurt, frowning at his uncle’s words. “You don’t think I can get the job done?” “I’m not sure if anyone can, son,” the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch states calmly. “The horse doesn’t just have ‘some behavioral issues’, as Fergus put it. He’s unapproachable, unpredictable, aggressive. That stallion is dangerous to everyone in a square mile radius. Jody rang me this morning to warn us.” “Jody?” the cowboy returns, puzzled. He’s aware that the female rancher knows a lot of people in this business, but he didn’t expect the news of the famous stallion’s arrival would spread so fast. “How did she even know that Cain was coming to us?” “Because MacLeod is a client of hers. Cain is currently in her stables.”

Dean’s eyebrows hit his hairline, emerald greens staring over the desk at the man on the other side. While gaping at his uncle, questions begin to race through his mind. Jody did business with Fergus? Jody is a good trainer with excellent judgment, so if she claims Cain is untrainable, that says something. Their last conversation in Flagstaff comes to mind, the news about Gabe’s hospitalization shocking him at the time. Could his friend’s injuries be the stallion’s doing?

Bobby watches his trusted worker process the information, rolling his chair a little closer and resting his forearms on the varnished wood, closing his hand over his fist. “I know this complicates things, but I’m gonna leave it up to you. If you think you can handle the stallion, I will trust your judgment. But I don’t want you to risk your neck for the money, Dean. We will find another way.”

The horseman chews on his lip as he ponders, his focus capturing nothing in particular as his eyes flick over the items and documents on the desk. “We’ll have a week to evaluate him. I’ll make the call after that,” he decides. “Mind if I contact Jody to get some insight on what I’m up against?” “Knock yourself out,” Bobby consents. “Just leave the numbers that we agreed to out of it.” “Will do.”

Dean gets up from his seat, pushing the chair closer to the desk before he intends to slip out of the office before he’s stopped by his boss. “One more thing,” the wise man says, looking over his enclosed hands. “What’s going on with you and the intern?”

Caught, the head wrangler freezes, eyes wide with shock and pure horror staring into the hallway. Shit. How the hell is he going to answer that? Is he referring to the dance at the opening night of the horse show or the palpable tension that has surrounded the former couple whenever they were in close range of each other? Dean doesn’t know, but he has the feeling that the continuation of this conversation is going to be anything but pleasant. Composing himself before he turns back to face his uncle.

“Nothin’. What do you mean?” He shrugs as the corners of his mouth draw down, pretending to be careless. “Don’t play dumb, boy. I was born at night, but not last night.” Bobby glares at him knowingly. “Are you messin’ around with her?” “No,” Dean says firmly, the truth in his words hurting him deep down. His uncle lifts his chin, holding the cowboy’s gaze while narrowing his eyes. It’s clear that he’s not buying. “You wanna explain then why you two were like two peas in a pot in Flagstaff, but can’t even look at each other now?”

With his hand still on the door handle, his nephew attempts to keep his act together, but then he sighs. Damn it, he was so close to making it out of this meeting alive. Oh well, what’s one more lecture, right?

“Look, there’s nothing going on, not anymore. I - uh, I got carried away and I shouldn’t have let it,” he admits. “I broke it off. It won’t happen again.” “Is this gonna be a problem?” his boss asks sternly. “If you two can’t work together--” “It isn’t. Garth will supervise her from now on. Just to prevent any issues in the future,” he continues, hoping the fact that they actually discussed how to carry on as colleagues from this point forward will put the concern to rest.

“There better be a future for her here on this ranch. I can’t afford to lose a free worker, especially not one as skilled as she is,” Bobby warns, not convinced. “I’d pray that she won’t pack her bags if I were you, ‘cause I’ll give ya one guess who’s gonna have to work twice as hard and whose ass I’m gonna bust.” “She won’t leave,” his head wrangler guarantees, willing to bet his life on it.

His promise might seem based on a hopeful hunch, but Y/N hasn’t given Dean any indication to question her professionalism. She even approached him in order to change the conditions of her internship, which couldn’t have been easy for her. Their interaction will be minimized and strictly business from now on, something he reckons she will handle much more gracefully than he will, simply because she has a bigger purpose to focus on. This placement is a stepping stone to her dream of owning her own ranch, and that goal hasn’t changed. He knows she won’t leave Gold Canyon.

Bobby observes his nephew, still bothered by the fact that he didn’t listen to him when he specifically told the bachelor not to get involved with the intern. He’s going to save the rant for another time, though, the sight of an already dejected man before him having him hold back. It seems like this is doing a number on young fellow, and considering how they were with each other at the horse show this weekend, he’s not surprised. The two reminded him of his twenties when he first got together with his Ellen. The boy is hurting, more than he lets on. “Alright then. Get goin’, I’ve got bills to pay,” he eventually says, shooing Dean out with a flick of the wrist.

Relieved that his uncle is cutting him some slack, he nods and silently pulls the door shut, putting a barrier between himself and the conversation he has been dreading for weeks. If only he could be able to tell Bobby that he’s with the girl he’s in love with; he would have taken the grumpy rebuke with a grin on his face. If only.

While stepping outside, the cowboy pulls his cellphone from his jeans pocket, looking up Jody Mills’ number in his contacts. He begins to slowly stroll back and forth on the porch in its sheltering shade, the floorboards moaning and cracking under his boots as he waits with his Nokia pressed against his ear. The steady tone beeps twice before his friend picks up. “Hey,” it sounds from the other side of the line. “I was hoping you’d call.” “Yeah, Bobby told me about Cain,” he returns. “Kinda complicates things, don’t it?” “I need to listen to me very carefully,” Jody starts, earnest and worried. “Do not take that horse into your stable.”

The cowboy sighs, glancing over the land while hooking his thumb behind his belt. He figured the female rancher would try to convince him to back off. “It’s good money, Jody, and I’ve handled difficult cases before. Cain deserves a shot. I have to try.” “I get it, but hear me out. If Fergus offered you a deal that seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. I know you’re an excellent trainer, hell, the best that I know. But I’m telling you, we’re not talking about a stallion with some authority issues here. That horse is twisted, has wires crossed. I have never seen such behavior,” she presses. “So many people have tried to straighten him out already. I did some digging, and Fergus’ supposedly ‘million dollar prospect’ has moved in and out nine different stables over the past year. No one has succeeded.”

He ponders, not taking her warning lightly. Jody is an experienced equestrian who has dealt with many tough animals. She even passed some horses on to him when she couldn’t get through to them. The woman is well aware of the limits to her expertise and has always been honest with clients when a horse was too much for her to handle, but never before has she doubted that the wrangler from the Gold Canyon Ranch could do the job.

“When Gabe got hurt, was it…?” Dean wonders, hesitant, not finishing his sentence. “It was Cain.”

He sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. Although he assumed it was the stallion who has put his former colleague into the hospital, it still shocks him. He continues to pace the deck in front of the Singer’s home. “How is he doing?” he wonders. Jody pulls in a deep breath, the message she’s about to deliver clearly a difficult one. “He’s never gonna walk again. Paralyzed from the waist down.”

Dean closes his eyes and swallows thickly. It’s the outcome they all feared, but hearing the confirmation makes his gut churn. Losing one's legs is a nightmare for everyone, but for a rider? He can’t possibly picture it, becoming wheelchair-bound. Honestly, he would rather die than to never be able to get in the saddle again.

“Dean, I know you believe every horse deserves a second chance, but please, let this one go. He is beyond repair. I’m not asking, I’m begging,” she pleads, a tremor in her voice. “If you take on Cain, it’s only a matter of time before you get hurt, or worse.”

The words are backed up by a heavy silence. The two stay quiet for a while, the words sinking in with the wrangler. Flight animals fueled by fear can do either two things; run or attack. If getting away from the supposed threat is impossible, they tend to go for the last. It’s not something the horse will even think about; it’s a survival instinct. When a naturally kind creature takes a turn like that, it becomes a thousand-pound killing machine. If Cain is truly that far gone, it is likely that he is indeed beyond saving. The trainer has to see it for himself, though, and not just because the ranch can use the cash. He realizes that if he doesn’t take on this task, someone else will, someone with less experience. If this stallion is really that lethal, the next novice trainer might make an error of judgment that will be his or her last. At least Dean has the skills. It seems like he is Cain’s last resort, because if he isn’t trainable, he will get the bullet at some point. He wouldn’t be the first horse to be put down because of similar problems.

“Thanks for the warning, Jody,” he responds after a long pause. “I’ll keep it in mind.” “Dean--” “I know. I know what you’re gonna say, but if I don’t do this, who knows what might happen to him. I’ve got a week to decide if we wanna go through with it. That’s the least I can do.” He can hear his friend grunt, frustrated, probably realizing that changing his mind was a long shot to begin with. “Just… be careful, okay?” “I will, promise,” Dean assures. “Talk to you later.”

The cowboy hangs up, staring at his phone for a few more seconds before he puts it away and steps out into the sun, heading back to the stables. The admonition continues to ring in his ears, and he allows the caution to imprint the decisions he needs to make in the upcoming days. After all, warned is forearmed.

Y/N wishes anyone had warned her how painful it is to have her heart broken by the person who made it beat just for him. Maybe she would have been more mindful then, more guarded. Maybe she wouldn’t have let him have it, had she known how careless he would be.

Around 5 o’clock, her new supervisor said it was okay if she wanted to take her own horse for a ride. Normally she trains Meadow either before or after shift, but she got all the work done at record speed, desperate for a distraction, that all her daily tasks were fulfilled two hours before dinner. Maybe Garth detected that she needed some alone-time with her four-legged friend, because he suggested the ride with a sympathetic smile and a kind nudge, sending her towards the Quarter’s box.

After straightening out the saddle pad, the cowgirl tightens the cinch. Meadow, who can be a bit of a grumpy mare when it comes to tacking up, stands still without moving a muscle, allowing her owner to ready her for a ride without pulling a prank like she usually does. Sometimes the cheeky horse will try to fish Y/N’s phone from her back pocket, nibble at her hat or her sleeve, or refuse to take a step aside when requested, but not today. Maybe she can sense that such an action could set her human off.

The horse accepts the bit when the cowgirl offers it to her, after which she pulls the headpiece over Meadow’s black-tipped ears, securing the straps skillfully. She sniffles, wiping her nose and forcing herself to keep her composure a little while longer. In a few minutes, when she’s away from prying eyes, she will allow to let the tears flow again, but not now, not yet.

Y/N unties her horse, places her left foot in the stirrup, and swings her right leg over the back of her bay mare, softly landing in the saddle. Picking up the reins, she steers her horse away from the tack up area, the smooth leather between her fingers giving her a sense of control that she’s missing in her love life.

Instead of leading Meadow towards the arena, the rider guides her towards the gate that leads to the trail. Her horse had an eventful weekend and gave it her all in competition, so it wouldn’t be fair to put her through a full workout. The performance took a lot out of the willing horse who never seizes to bring her best efforts and more. Even though the freestyle only lasted minutes, the athlete peaked with a brilliant execution of the routine, which takes a lot of skill and strength. Then there’s the ambiance of a show, the new environment, all the sensory overload. The combination of all those factors did a number the Quarter, and she deserves a calm and relaxing ride, much like the young woman she’s carrying on her back. Y/N is in no state to train, well aware that the heightened emotions will get the best of her if something might not work out the way she planned, and that’s not something she wants her companion to bear the consequences of. If anything, Meadow has been absolutely wonderful, seeming to understand that her person is sad and needs someone to lean on.

After closing the fence behind them, the girl and her horse follow the path that leads towards the hills. Cacti flank the road ahead towards the Superstition Mountains, which stand tall in the backdrop. The beautiful amber colored volcanic rock formations seem even more vibrant now that the setting sun blesses nature with a warm glow. The vegetation is much greener than it was when they searched for the herd of youngsters in the reservoir. Autumn is here, and within a couple of months, the ridges that reach for the sky will be covered in snow. It’s supposed to be a beautiful sight, at least that’s what Dean told her.

Now that it’s just her and Meadow, Y/N finally allows the suppressed tears to fall. The battle she has been fighting all day is one she knew she would lose eventually, she just wanted to be with her most faithful friend when the levee breaks. She doesn’t even intend to wipe the drops of despair away, knowing that she has to let it out now in order to keep up the facade later. And so the last rays of the day catch the shimmering pathways down her cheeks, similar to how the water cobbled at Willow’s Creek, where she and Dean shared their first kiss. All the memories, those perfect little moments that she thought to cherish forever, they are worth nothing now. It was all just a dream.

Y/N transits into a slow canter, hoping that the wind in her face will chase the sorrow away. She has to feel something completely opposite to the grief that is ripping her apart. She needs to experience freedom and the bond that comes along with this unique partnership between her and Meadow, the simplicity of moving across the desert like men and their horses have been doing so for centuries. No engines, no computers, no engineering. Just two souls of completely different species merging as one.

Resting her free hand on her horse’s neck and gripping the black mane, she pushes her heels into the Quarter’s flanks, aiding her to pick up speed. The bay mare takes over, her rider is no longer in control, but she no longer has to be. Y/N doesn’t need to direct this movie, because she trusts Meadow with her life. If there is any being on the face of the planet that she would follow blindly, it’s her companion. Meadow has never let her down, not once, and her owner knows there will never come a moment when she will. And so she breathes in, welcoming the wind to fill her lungs with newfound courage, brought on by the majestic animal that gallops across the landscape, carrying Y/N on her wings.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-six here

#Ride With Me #Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean x reader #Cowboy!Dean AU #Dean Winchester series #Cowboy!Dean series #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester reader insert #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Supernatural AU #SPN #Supernatural #Supernatural series #SPN series #Dean angst #Dean fluff #RWM chapter 25 #Kate Huntington

177 notes · View notes