#horse girl apprenticeship

[jedi-starbird]

Obi-Wan's apprenticeship with Qui-Gon is a horse girl movie but they both think the other person is the horse.

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "The Price of a Life" the March Patreon Short Story

(warnings ahead for murder and implied, attempted assault, please take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

Rani grew up with neglectful parents and a little brother who was treated like he could do no wrong. While she was often tasked with looking after him, receiving the blame for any and all misbehavior, her brother was given pats on the head for being such a strong willed rascal.

It wasn't the easiest time growing up and as soon as she was able, she spent every minute out of the house, helping the miller with carrying sacks of flour, holding horses still for re-shoeing at the blacksmith's smithy and in the evenings she was wiping down tables in the tavern. 

Any excuse to stay away and earn some money was pounced upon without hesitation. She was soon known around town as the girl who accepted any job so long as someone paid her for it. 

No matter how rough and tough it was, she lifted her chin stubbornly and no matter how hard it became, she was determined to prove people wrong when they doubted her.

She learned who in town was corrupt and to be avoided, she learned who would attempt to exploit her and she learned how to recognize the glint in people's eyes that promised nothing but pain and misery on her end.

She learned just how hard she had to hit to take someone down, heart pounding with terror and adrenaline as she stood in a dark, damp alley. A stone smeared with blood was in her hand as she stared down at empty eyes. 

She learned just how deep she had to dig a hole to ensure no wild animals dug the body back out, painful bruises blooming on her skin.

She learned fast and she learned well. Her hands grew rougher than any other girl's her age, she became stronger than many of the boys and she turned into a ruthless negotiator with a sharp intuition for those who wanted to trap her into agreements that demanded too much of her.

Her parents rarely saw her, but the few times they caught her sneaking back home, they were scolding her for being a terrible daughter who was never around and she ought to hand over some of her hard earned coin, they had housed and fed her for years after all.

Rani moved out of her childhood home as soon as she was old enough and the blacksmith flagged her down for an apprenticeship right away. It was hard work, but Rani was used to that and in the evenings she still went around, doing odd jobs for a bit of extra coin.

"I heard that unruly brother of yours got tangled with some unnatural folk," she heard her master say one day, almost half a year after having moved out of home.

They had some massive horses in today and they behaved well under her steady and reassuring hands. She had learned early on that animals liked it when she gave them a feeling of comfort and security, that they liked her calm and quiet words.

"I genuinely don't care," Rani answered, the black mare snorting and finally relaxing, lowering her head and her ears perked. 

She was a sweet one, but a different blacksmith had once badly hurt her while shoeing her and now she got worried and scared easily. It was understandable, in Rani's opinion.

The blacksmith hummed, a low noise that seemed to rumble in his barrel chest. "No one's seen him in a week, people think he ran into the Blood Lords."

Her hands stilled for a moment. Everyone knew of the Blood Lords, of the monsters that called the cursed city beyond the forest their home. Endless rumors surrounded that place, one worse than the other. Anything and everything could be bartered away in that place, from souls to blood and even someone's own children.

The Blood Lords never left their cursed city and while some speculated it was because they couldn't, they didn't need to either. Not when there were people desperate or foolish or arrogant enough to seek them out anyway, thinking they could weasel out a deal in their favor.

Rani had always thought that even her hardheaded brother knew better than to tangle with creatures which knew neither pity nor compassion.

"He'll be back soon, I'm sure," she said, though a part of her was sinking like a stone headed for the bottom of a lake. "He's old enough to start adventuring away from town. He's probably trying to get to the king's city and he'll turn around when he realizes it's a bad idea."

The blacksmith hummed, low and sceptical and Rani felt just as doubtful of her own words. What if her brother had been stupid enough to go to the cursed city? A place shrouded in eternal fog and with the taste of death so prominent in the air it made all but the most foolhardy or desperate flee in terror.

At least, it was like that according to rumors.

Rani focused on her work, but once she was sent away by her master, instead of seeking out one of the people who usually needed an extra hand, she headed to her childhood home. It had been the first time since she had moved out that she had gone back.

She half expected her brother to pop out, scaring her half to death and laughing at her face and the angry but secretly relieved lecture she'd give him. She half expected the little shit to have been hiding somewhere, watching as people fretted and worried, giggling to himself.

What she found were her parents crying their eyes out. Even before they looked up and spotted her in the open door, their hopeful faces falling with disappointment upon seeing that it was her and not her brother, she knew the truth.

Her brother had, indeed, been stupid enough to tangle with the Blood Lords.

"You must save him," her mother began, tone half accusing and half an order, as though she blamed Rani for this situation.

Rani turned on her heel and strode away, angry and worried in equal measure. She had always ended up stuck with cleaning her brother's messes. Had always had to face the anger of anyone he had played a prank on, getting scolded and told to keep him in line, because her parents slipped away from their responsibilities whenever they could.

She was sick and tired of being dragged into their problems, into being blamed. Her parents were two perfectly healthy adults, they should handle this.

She stomped all the way home, to the tiny little apartment over a general goods store she had rented. She passed by the alley where she had fought that terrible man, the rock she had used still lying where she had dropped it. Any blood on it had long since gotten washed away. 

No one had ever found out what had happened to that man.

She owed her brother nothing. In fact, she had told him multiple times to be more careful with his pranks and jokes, that one day he'd bite off more than he could chew. That he had sought out the Blood Lords was as laughable and nonsensical as a louse trying to tear out a wolf's throat. What had he been thinking?

She told herself that it was most likely already too late to save him. The Blood Lords took everything they wanted, they were considered even worse than the fae knights that rode through the forest during full moon nights, luring the prettiest lads and lasses out of their homes to whisk them away for forever.

The Blood Lords lived off of blood and souls and the screams of the anguished and tortured, their veins filled with dark magic and malice. According to rumors at least.

But there was always a kernel of truth to rumors, wasn't there?

Rani stared into her cramped little space, gritting her teeth, until an enraged snarl ripped free and she grabbed her cloak and shoved some things into her satchel before stomping out the door again.

*.*.*

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[pupyr0arz]

mermaid!soap x ghost. Unfinished Drabble.

He speaks thrice a week. He has it down to the ticking of the clock in his hut, the one source of noise down there by the rocks aside the wave and the braver sea-birds. Every Monday when the sun crests the horizon he takes the long path down to the docks and stops by Price’s inn. He greets him with a fatherly grunt and a comment about the weather, cautious and concerned. 

He doesn’t listen to any of Price’s warnings of bad weather, and Price knows it too. 

Wednesday is the next time he hears his voice, when he takes the catch in. Gaz comes by and if he didn’t count the handful of responses he gave it still would because he speaks for an entire village. Tells him what feels like every detail of every man, woman and child’s business up and down the country. Trots beside him on the fussy beast of a creature he calls a horse and sticks like a burr to his backside all throughout the afternoon. Gaz minds his business when it comes to him, though.

The third and final time is in the dead of night. He walks up the craggy path with a lantern and waits for the moon to rise to light it. He settles on his knees in front of the gravestones, carved deep and true so their names don’t fade for years, and he talks. Inanities, comments and jokes, the happening around town. Old and new, he speaks and speaks and speaks until his throat bleeds and his knees cramp and he nearly tumbles off the cliff when he gets up at dawn. It’s a long ranting, raving speech, he’s sure he’d look entirely mad to anyone stupid enough to follow him up there. He doesn’t let them get a word in edgewise, but it burns in his head nonetheless as he makes his way down, unsteady as a fawn.

Mum wouldn’t be happy at all, she’d be right cross. She was never a fiery woman though, all sad-eyed looks and mournful sighs when she found wrong in the world. She’d fuss over the state of the hut and sit by his bedside, offering wet rags like he’s a lad and sick with a fever like she always did when she wanted to help him. She’d fuss about all of this silence, the loneliness of the ocean. She never did like it when he went quiet as a youth, saying that nothing was worse for the head than filling it full of thoughts left to rot. She’d wanted better for him then, wanted him to go to the city and find work there, leave the craggy cliffs that scraped the sea with their claws and left the great widow-maker to her own devices. She’d wanted him to take that butchery apprenticeship and pack away, leave behind the salt and spray rather than be one of the many non-people to sink among the waves.

Tommy would just be pissing mad, that is. He had their fathers temper, both of them  when had to admit to himself in the quiet of the night. Tommy’s only flared brighter and hotter because he struck out at the world first, clawed at it for his place. Ever the older brother, determined to be the first. He had wanted out since the moment he heard of the city at all. He would’ve been miserable here.

He tries not to let it taint his days. It’s a losing battle, but his trade has settled in his bones now. He wakes and sleeps by the sounds of the tide and he’ll find himself at dawn with the taste of salt in his mouth. He keeps his boat towards the southernmost end, where the sea is as still as stone most days, silent quartz mirror broken by the gentlest of ripples. It reflects him, smoothing the turmoil in his head into quiet nothingness, clouds a blip on the surface of the water. Not once does he dip a finger in. There’s nothing under that calm surface but danger, he knows better than to try it.

He’s not married, and isn't interested in any of the girls that float though or anchor themselves in town. They don’t approach him often, eyeing him with caution. Better odds on picking the humble, inviting town boys than the silent, scarred fisherman. It doesn’t change a thing to him, even if Gaz and Price prod at him every once in a while.

Life is as it is, cyclic, endless in repetition, formation of a thousand possibilities in lockstep. The sun rises, yellow disc carelessly spilling over onto the ocean, flames at the bottom of his boat. The moon rises, perched high in the sky and watching over the rippling grasses. His name loses meaning, and he becomes that loss. Rumors rise and fall. Calm weather and storms trade turns, finding him unmoving as the cliff-stone.

It’s a silent day when the cyclic abruptly crawls to a halt. When the still, silent and waters of Ghost’s soul finds itself parted abruptly, tugged into a fierce upheaval. It comes without warning, without sense, swifter than any arrowhead and sharper than his knife. The apathy that colors his eyes vanishes when they meet his, all blues and greens like the ocean fed a bit of herself into two jewels and placed them for anyone to take in his head. It’s replaced so fast, Ghost doesn’t even notice. He doesn’t miss it, either.

One nameless day, the blue sheen of the water is cut by something, a foreign color that shimmers beneath the surface. He doesn’t recognize it immediately, that catches his eye more than any of its unusual features, blurred beneath the ripples of murky  water and the shadow cast by his boat. It’s slow moving, placid, then it thrashes once the net covers it, but Ghost is used to being jerked around and bites down on his tongue and digs his heel in, cursing to himself as he hauls it’s struggling form inch by inch. It’s almost respectable how violently it fights for its life. 

“I swear on the lord,” he snaps, twisting the net around his hands, the rope biting into his skin sharply, “I will gut you and eat you right bloody here right now, no matter how much you cost.” 

That is novelty enough, the fourth time already breaking the ritual, the strange appearance of the thing in his net that seems more wide-fins and shiny scales wrapped up in a ball than any sort of dish he knows, but then at the sound of his rough cracking voice it stills Ike a frightened rabbit. He nearly falls over from the sudden slack before he recovers.

The net spills open onto the deck, the mistake suddenly so minuscule Ghost forgets the net even exists as the catch flops onto the deck. It’s no fish he’s ever heard of, no eight armed man eating beast that idiot Graves once bragged about catching himself.

It looks almost like a man, almost, head and hair and hands even, but it’s body extends, serpentine and scaled like a fish. It glistens with copper red scales and bright blues, fins sprouting from its skin like any other creature from the sea. 

It looks up at Ghost, wide-eyed. Crystal blue, like sea-glass and the stones the town-men brought back from travels to adorn their brides throats, soft lips and nose.

The first thought, which is less of anything in any coherent language and more of an urge that builds in Ghost’s bones and tugs deep within him at his navel, is that he wants to touch it, cup its face into his hands and trace the contours of skin and scales and the boundaries where they blend and dance together. The second thought is that it’s trying to pull itself overboard. 

The third thought is lost when he leaps forwards to bind it, cut off amid the clumsy scuffle.

[jdeclerc]

under autumn's moon

pairing: lucien x reader

summary: having watched you overwork yourself for weeks, Lucien wants nothing more than to spend time with you, even if it is just for one night.

author's note: i may not be a Lucien girl, but my dear friend is, so this one's for her - k, i hope this makes you smile <3

warnings: smut, wrapped in a wonderfully fluffy bow

word count: 3,561

From his position at Y/N’s study door, Lucien can tell that the female has been there much too long. The light from the setting sun is casting shadows across your face, accentuating the fatigue lining your exquisite features.

Over the past weeks he could count the number of times he had spoken more than three sentences with you at a time, on one hand. There had been no late-night talks about each other’s days, no hours-long strolls through the woods surrounding the Forest House.

He missed the sound of your laugh, your lazy smile as you awoke at first light, and, by the Cauldron, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without the feeling of your bare skin under his.

It is the change in his scent as his thoughts venture further into the impure that has you finally looking up, and the tired smile that crosses your face has his heart breaking.

“I think it’s time you take a break, my spark.”

A shake of your head precedes your response.

“I can’t Luce, I just…I can’t.” You throw your hands up in frustration. “I have communications from what seems like every court to respond to, I’m finishing the revisions for our new trade agreement with Day, and now I’m working with Eris to finalize the expansion of our healer apprenticeship program.”

Lucien pushes off the door frame, moving to lean both hands on the chair opposite your desk. He can’t help the anger that laces his voice in that moment, taking a breath before his next words.

“My brother must know how much work lays on your desk and he has the audacity to add something else?! Let me have words with him and I swear to you –”

“He didn’t ask Lucien, I volunteered to help him. He tried to refuse me, and I persisted.”

“I should have known.” He shoots you a grin. “I have always loved your inability to let those you love walk alone.”

“For everything he’s done for Autumn and how hard he works, it’s the least I could do.”

“And you would provide him better help if you took time for yourself. I can’t remember the last time we dined together, and by the number of times I’ve awoken to cold sheets next to me, I know you haven’t been sleeping as much as you need.”

You can’t seem to meet Lucien’s eye and he can see the tears brimming in yours. He rounds your desk, taking the underside of your jaw in his hands and titling your head to look up at him.

“No tears, my love. I can’t begin to describe how proud I am to call you mine. I voice my concerns because it breaks my heart to see you hurt, in any way.”

You lean your head into Lucien’s hand and place yours on top of where it rests.

“It’s not you Luce, I’m tired and my brain is as foggy as the woods at first light.”

“Then please, come with me. I promise it’ll help.” You give him a questioning look and he places his free hand over his heart. “No more than a few hours, I swear.”

You pause for a moment before giving him a small nod, a smile ghosting over your lips.

He reaches out a hand for one of yours, helping you stand from your desk. He tightens his grip on your jaw and leans into you.

Lucien’s lips meet yours and it’s as though the world falls away. The kiss is slow, patient, the both of you savouring the moment.

The two of you break apart and Lucien smiles down at you.

He slips his arm around your waist and gestures toward the open study door.

“Shall we, my love? An adventure awaits us.”

You can’t help but laugh at the mischievous grin he gives you; the male always having been the more spontaneous of the two of you.

­----------

As you entered the court stables you immediately see that the horses you both called your own are saddled and at the ready.

“Lucien Vanserra, you are one confident male. How did you possibly know that I would agree to your plans?”

He once again gives you a grin, adding a wink alongside it.

“Call it lover’s intuition, spark.”

You laugh as you approach your mount, running a loving hand along the side of her face.

A specimen of beauty. Pure black but for the mare’s hooves and the streaks winding through her mane, both the deep golden colour that accentuates the Autumn Court’s traditional attire. A gift from Lucien on the first of your name days the two of you had spent together.

Lucien had named her Flint, “just what his spark needed to light the world on fire” he had said. The two of you formed a bond like no other.

You lean you head into the mare’s.

“How I’ve missed you, my girl.”

Flint leans her head into yours, showing she has missed you in equal measure.

“I’ve been taking her out myself, she wanted to be ready for when you returned to her.”

You gave Lucien an appreciative smile as you put your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg. You adjust yourself, settling into the saddle like the second home it is.

“Am I going to have to slow myself down? Let you ease back into it?”

“I’m sure you would enjoy that Vanserra, but you know better than that. Do your best to keep up, won’t you?”

You don’t wait for Lucien’s reply as you take off. You burst from the stable, not willing to wait any longer to feel the cold air rush past you and the freedom of feeling as though you are flying.

---------

You slow Flint to a walk as you reach a clearing in the trees and approach the lookout over the woods surrounding the Forest House.

“I’ll never get tired of this, of home.” Lucien stops beside you, admiring the lands he so desperately missed in the years of his exile.

“No words can quite do its beauty justice.”

“No…no they cannot.”

The tone of his voice has you turning to look at him, finding him already looking in your direction. You can’t help the blush that crosses your cheeks.

“As much as I love this view, this isn’t the place I had in mind for our evening adventure.”

You raise a brow in question.

“Then, by all means, lead the way.”

You gesture for him to go, knowing that whatever he has planned will be spectacular.

Lucien turns and takes off once more, you quickly follow behind.

--------

Lucien comes to a stop in front a thick sheet of hanging vines and dismounts from his horse. He motions for you to do the same. He extends his hand, taking Flint’s reins from you and tying both horses to the tree that sits nearby. He grabs a snack for both from his saddlebag before making his way back over to you.

Putting a hand on your lower back, Lucien leads you to stand in front of the vines. As he lifts them, the air is stolen from your lungs at the sight before you.

The moonlight shines into the clearing through the opening in the trees overhead, its light casting an ethereal glow over the rippling pool at its centre.

The only sound that can be heard is the stream that feeds the pool, as though the outside world has fallen away. The moss that covers the forest floor is soft beneath your feet and is accentuated by the wildflowers growing between the rocks scattered around the clearing.

You feel Lucien’s chest against your back as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You lay both your hands overtop his where they land on your waist.

You can’t bring yourself to speak above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace that resides here.

“How did you ever find this place?”

“I came upon it a fortnight ago and have been dreaming about bringing you here since.” Lucien kisses you at the joining of your neck and shoulder, marking a path upward until his lips rest against your ear. “The water is quite warm…perfect for a late-night swim.

He moves his hands beneath your tunic, trailing them across your skin. You feel him lean away from you as he gathers the hem in his hands and lifts the garment. You raise your arms and can’t help the shiver that runs over you as the night air hits your bare chest.

You hear your tunic hit the ground as Lucien brings his body flush to yours once more. His hands move to the laces of your trousers, untying them with well-practiced precision. You can hear him sink to his knees behind you. He unzips your riding boots, gently lifting each of your feet before removing them. Lucien works your trousers over your hips, and you step forward, out of them as they reach your ankles, leaving you bare.

You turn around, meeting Lucien’s darkening eyes.

“There truly are no words.”

Without a word you step closer to him, pulling him to stand. You bring your hand to rest on his jaw, his hands coming to encircle your waist once more.

You lean into him, you lips ghosting over his ear.

“Your turn my love.”

You smile at him as you step away. You can feel his eyes trailing you as you step into the pool. The warm water a stark contrast to the crisp night air.

As you reach the middle of the pool, you turn and find that Lucien has not moved.

It’s the desire you know is evident on your face and the change in your scent that has him raising his own shirt above his head and making quick work of his trousers.

You rake your eyes over his broad form, the planes of muscle littered with the scars that tell the story of his upbringing.

Your eyes catch on the tattoo that rests on his left hip and a smile crosses your face, the design perfectly aligning with the one that runs up your right hip. The two of you had gotten them done on the day you committed yourselves to each other. The design a perfect melding of the Autumn and Day Courts, your original birthplace.

As Lucien enters the pool, his eyes don’t leave yours.

He meets you in the middle, grabbing your hands and bringing them around his neck. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you impossibly close, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“Luce…I’m so sorry.” Your hands take hold on either side of his neck, and you lean back enough to meet his eye. “I’ve missed you every day these past weeks.”

You voice breaks with the end of your sentence. Lucien wipes away the singular tear that escapes.

“Please, my love. You owe me no apology. I fell in love with your dedication to your work long ago and have admired it ever since. Believe me when I say I know it is your work pulling you away from me, and nothing more.”

“I’ve taken on extra work, by choice. It is my own decision-making that has put us both in this position.”

“Whether given to you or taken on by your own actions does not matter. It does not make it any easier to carry. You are allowed to feel the stress and exhaustion, allowed to be affected by it. And should anyone tell you differently, you send them to me, and I will live up to the infamy of my last name. Promise?”

You let out a small laugh as you nod at his words, knowing he truly means every one.

“I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve a male as extraordinary as yourself. I will never stop thanking the Mother for bringing you to me.”

“We walked through a lifetime of pain before coming together. I like to believe that you are finally a gift, the Mother admitting she has put us through enough.”

It’s not often that the two of you speak of your romantic pasts, the pain still evident to this day. You, having lost your mate to the first Great War, watching as she was cut down by Hybern’s forces. And Lucien, who’s mate cleaved herself from him with no thought or remorse, never giving the male a second thought.

Lucien’s words were right, the two of you had fought long and hard to be able to live in the happiness you found in one another.

“I love you, Lucien.”

“And I love you, my spark.”

He closes the distance and kisses you, pulling you so every part of him is against every part of you. His hands roam your body as the kiss turns desperate, hungry.

Lucien’s lips move to your neck, finding the spot that has you letting out a gasp.

His hands skim your hips, and he wraps them around your thighs, lifting you into his arms. You hook your ankles around his waist as he moves you backwards, setting you on the edge of the pool.

Lucien’s lips return to your own as he grips your thighs to spread them further, pushing himself against you. You can’t help the small moan that escapes as you feel just how much Lucien had missed you.

“How I’ve missed that sound.”

His hands skim up your sides. His thumbs brush across your nipples, the night air having turned them to stiff peaks. Lucien’s lips join his hands, his teeth nipping at each of your breasts in turn. He straightens and runs his hands over the marks he created; an artist admiring his latest work.

Lucien’s gaze meets yours as his left hand grips your waist and his right moves down your front with a featherlight touch. His eyes don’t leave yours as he runs two fingers through your folds, your eyes closing and mouth falling slightly open at the feeling.

“And you’ve missed that, haven’t you?” His fingers begin circling your clit, eliciting a small whine from your lips. “You wonderfully insatiable female. I’ve barely touched you and you’re falling apart. Tell me Y/N, who else has this effect on you?”

“No…no one Luce.” Your words come out as more of a breath as Lucien sinks two fingers into you, them curling in just the right way.

“That’s my good girl, you’re mine and only mine.”

He quickens his pace, your moans becoming more desperate. You bite your lip to quiet them. Lucien’s hand moves from your waist to your jaw and his thumb pulls your bottom lip free.

“None of that. I’ve waited too long to hear you fall apart, let me hear you Y/N.”

Your hips begin to lift, meeting Lucien’s hand at every stroke. Your hands tighten their grip on either side of his neck, the both of you knowing you’re quickly barrelling toward an edge.

Lucien suddenly pulls his hand from you and the sound that falls from your lips is almost painful, your peak only moments out of reach.

“Lucien…” Your voice holds a warning.

“I need to feel you Y/N. The only way you’re cumming is wrapped around my cock. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

If anyone but Lucien had heard the desperation in your voice you would have been embarrassed. His commanding words in these moments never failed to cause heat to rush through you, never failing to turn you to malleable clay in his hands.

As you feel him position himself, and push into you the slightest bit, your eyes fall closed once more.

Lucien’s hand comes to grasp the front of your throat, his grip tightening just enough to cause you to look at him.

“Eyes on me. I want to see you fall apart on my cock. I want to watch the very moment I become the only thing that exists for you in this world.”

You manage to nod in response.

Lucien’s pushes into you at a painfully slow pace, as though he is refamiliarizing himself with the feeling of being inside you. He pauses once he’s fully seated within you.

“You are a needy thing, clenching around me already.”

He pulls most of the way out of you before setting a burning pace, his hips meeting yours almost painfully with each thrust. After weeks of not being with each other, the way Lucien is stretching you is intoxicating.

Lucien’s thumb moves to your clit as your moans become louder, the male knowing exactly what you need to reach your peak.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave from the ocean, the look in Lucien’s eyes as he watches you only intensifying the feeling. His hand moves to your waist, but his thrusts slow only marginally, carrying you through each and every aftershock.

“That’s it, spark. Give me everything.”

His movements stop after a few moments, his cock still buried inside you.

“Luce, you didn’t –”

“I didn’t, but are you telling me you’re done? That you can’t handle anymore?” He begins to pull out of you as he speaks.

Your ankles tighten around his waist, halting his movements. You thread your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him toward you, your lips meet his in a searing kiss.

“I can handle anything you give me Vanserra, I want it all.”

He’s still smiling as his lips meet yours again and he begins to move. Lucien sets a slower pace than before but slides you closer to the pool’s edge, allowing him to reach deeper, hitting a spot inside you that has you gasping each time his hips meet yours.

It doesn’t take long for both of your breaths to become laboured. You can’t help your arms wrapping around Lucien’s shoulders, nails scraping his back as you cling to him.

His hands take hold of your thighs in a bruising grip. This time it’s he who can’t help the groans that pass his lips.

“You were made for me Y/N, so fucking perfect…you’re taking me so well. I can feel that you’re close. Are you going to cum for me love? Grip me so tight, have me fill you up. Is that what you want?”

“Yes…Lucien…please –” Your words are cut off as he brings his hand back to your clit.

Lucien captures your lips with his, swallowing your cry as you cum. You break away, needing the air as he doesn’t stop his movements on your clit.

It takes only a moment for him to find his own release, a cry of his own coming out of him as he buries his face in you neck. His thrusts become begin to falter and the sound of both of your release combining has you choking back a moan.

You bring your hand to rest on the back of his head as he slows his movements. Neither of you speak at he stills, basking in the feelings still coursing through you both.

Without a word and without pulling out of you, Lucien picks you up and moves you both back into the centre of the pool. He lowers until only your chests are above the water and Lucien begins to gently sway back and forth.

He meets your eye with a searching gaze.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little sore.” You can see the concern instantly cover his expression and you are quick to correct any assumption he made. “In the best way possible, I promise. I wouldn’t trade tonight for anything.”

You pour all of the love you have for Lucien into the kiss you give him. It doesn’t turn desperate as it did earlier, you both relish in the love that exists between you for several minutes.

It’s Lucien who breaks from you first.

“I promised to only steal you away for a few hours, I should be getting you back to your study.”

You pick up on the sadness that laces his tone, your thumb brushing along his jaw.

“I think I can step away for one night…I want to wake up with you Lucien, I want you to make love to me as the sun floats through our bedroom windows.”

He kisses you once more.

“I would love nothing more.” He brushes his nose against yours. “Shall we head back to the Forest House?”

“Not right now…can we stay here for a while longer?”

“We can do anything you’d like, my love.”

“Thank you…for everything. Thank you for being understanding, for always standing by my side.”

“I will always be here. Always.”

“I love you, Lucien.”

“I love you Y/N, more than you could ever know.”

You smile at him before resting your head on his shoulder.

The two of you fall silent. The movement of the water as Lucien continues to sway is the only sound that makes its way into the clearing.

For the first time in weeks your thoughts aren’t filled with a checklist of your endless duties. Your mind is calm.

You think only of the love between you and the male holding you.

You allow that love to bring you peace. Silently vowing to never again lose sight of the gift that is having Lucien Vanserra in your life.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

This is an encouragement to share any headcanon you might have related to Elfhelm, more specifically about his eyebrows. 🥸

Ah, Elfhelm, my beloved. Currently getting spanked in the favorite character poll but deserving of so much more! ♥️ Here are my random Elfhelm thoughts:

—He’s in his sixties, so he’s part of Théoden’s generation. In fact, he’s distant kin to Théoden by marriage (Elfhelm and Elfhild being from the same broader family only makes sense!)

—At Elfhild’s request, he moved from the Westfold to Edoras just before Théodred was born so that her son would be raised around members of her family, too.

—Because Elfhild died in childbirth, Elfhelm and Théodwyn cared for Théodred until Théoden got his head together enough to really start parenting. Théoden’s gratitude for that is part of why he trusted and relied on Elfhelm to such a large extent and allowed him to function as First Marshal (even tho that was Théoden’s title).

—Elfhelm was a social ANIMAL. There was nothing he loved more than a party, and he became the default center of attention as soon as he arrived. He’d lead singing, buy rounds, win an impromptu arm wrestling contest, dance with all the old ladies and little girls, and tell bawdy jokes that people laughed at even as they acted shocked.

—He was naturally gifted with people. He could talk to ANYONE and make them all feel like the most important person in the room. He had a fantastic memory and always remembered to ask after that horse of yours that was sick last month or to congratulate your son on finishing that apprenticeship you told him about in the spring.

—He LIVED for harmless gossip. He had a million sources (he wasn’t above hanging out in the line for the women’s privy at the mead hall because that’s where the best scoops were shared), and people just felt drawn to confide in him about all kinds of things. But he had very keen judgment and never shared anything that would hurt anyone else.

—He had a daughter, who he was crazy for, but he also collected surrogate children – youths who were lacking a parental figure of their own for whatever reason and that would be welcomed to his family table and given all kinds of love and advice. (Over the years this included not just Théodred and Éomer but also Guthláf and later Wíd.) (Even though Wíd was a full-on adult at the time, he needed extra care!)

—He definitely knew that Éowyn was in his éored on the way to Gondor and agreed to look the other way because he understood why she wanted to be there. Éowyn tried many times over the years to thank him for this, but he always just winked and then pretended not to know what she was talking about.

—He had some unresolved trauma (nightmares, flashbacks, etc.) around Théodred’s death at the Isen and specifically the very visceral fighting over possession of his body. He was only able to get some closure on this after the war, when he suggested – and Éomer readily agreed – that they go back to the Fords and have a REAL funeral for Théodred so they could all grieve as a community.

—He did, indeed, have classic Grandpa Eyebrows! His wife tried to keep them trimmed, but he really couldn’t be bothered and joked that they helped keep the sun out of his eyes.

[sso-montana]

Sorry if you've already answered similar asks before, my memory is not the best :')

For Montana and/or Justin:

What were their dream jobs as kids? Do they do something different now?

How do they deal with stress or pressure?

What are their worst and best habits, if they have any?

I HAVE NOT even if I love talking abt my babies and also kissing you on the forehead for these asks (¯ ³¯)

Doing both of them bc my babies and I can

Dream jobs: Justin always knew he wanted to take over the stables, even as a kid. It just seemed logical to him and ofc he loves running the stables and summer camp. Montana on the other hand always wanted to either work at a flower shop or as a hair stylist. As she got older she tried out some other jobs and actually had an apprenticeship as a carpenter before moving back to Jorvik. Now she works at Conrad's (mostly as delivery girl right now) and later on fully takes over the blacksmith

Dealing with stress: oh boy. Okay. Depending on what is causing the stress/pressure Montana gets VERY irritable and snippy with people. Her sarcasm goes through the roof and she is so much more aggressive that most are even scared to talk to her to begin with. OR if it's so much that she gets overwhelmed she might just break down and have a full crying session because she can't do this anymore. Justin starts to push people away when he's stressed. He needs time to think for himself and being stressed makes that very hard with others around him. So he starts declining help offers and doing things he'd usually do with others alone. Usually he's a very social person but the more stressed he gets the more people stress him out, too.

worst habits: Montana's is 100% without doubt her anger and her habit of putting herself last. She doesn't care about herself. She sees herself as a something akin to a bad luck charm, an inconvenience for everyone else. Something they shouldn't have to put up with. Justin's is not wanting to show when he is feeling down or hurt. He wants to be that friend that's helping others, that looks after them and smiles and is happy. There's nothing more he hates than others seeing him cry or having a breakdown

best habits: Montana is immensely loyal. Incredibly so. She will do anything for the people she loves and cares about, be it giving them a reality check on their horrible relationship or saving them from their evil grandpa. She will beat up or give anyone a piece of her mind that dares to treat her friends badly. Justin is patient. Be it with horses or people, he doesn't rush them. He lets them learn at their own pace, waits for them to come to him to talk. Even if it takes a hundred tries, once he knows someone can achieve something he will help and support them until they achieve their goal.

[kirafier]

Ask Shadow Fluff

My ask box is open and I decide to tell more about my lil girl. So go wild and ask her :3

Basic information about her:

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT MARTIN DE PORRES The Patron of Barbers (and Hairstylists), Race Relations and Social Justice Feast Day: November 3

"Do not complain, that shows discontent with the will of God in the present moment. That is also proof of impatience."

Martin de Porres was born in Lima, Peru, on December 9, 1579 to Don Juan de Porras y de la Peña, a Spanish nobleman and adventurer, and Ana Velázquez, a freed daughter of slaves from Panama. His father abandoned the family when Martin and his sister, Juana, were very young. Ana Velázquez supported her children by taking in laundry.

Martin's childhood poverty did not embitter him but made him sensitive to the plight of the poor, and especially the orphans to whom he would devote much of his time and resources. Even as a child, Martin would give the family's scarce resources to the beggars whom he saw as less fortunate than himself.

When Martin turned eight, his father had a change of heart and decided to claim his two children (publicly identified as mulatto, a term used for mixed-race children) in spite of the gossip to which it subjected him. He made sure that both were afforded a good education and had enough money for the family not to suffer hardship. At the age of twelve, Martin began an apprenticeship with a barber/surgeon named Marcel de Rivero. He proved extremely skilful at this trade and soon customers, who at first were sceptical of the young coloured boy, came to prefer and ask for him.

After leaving home, Martin took a room in the house of Ventura de Luna. Always a devoted Catholic who spent much time in church, Martin begged his landlady for some candle stubs. She was curious about his activities and one night spied on him through a keyhole and witnessed Martin in a vigil of ecstatic prayer — a practice he would continue throughout his life.

Martin often challenged his brothers on their racial attitudes. In one story, Martin came upon a group of Indians sweeping the floor under the watchful eye of one of the Dominican brothers. When told that they were cleaning to repay a meal they had received, Martin pointed out that the brother had fed some white people the previous day without forcing them to clean. After Martin's firm but gentle challenge, the brother took up the broom himself.

Martin frequently insisted on performing such hard and menial tasks as caring for the Order's horses in the evenings, even when informed that servants were available for these chores. He would argue that the servants were tired from their day's work while he, Martin, had done very little. He also extended his healing gifts — going to the servants' quarters and treating their ailments.

Martin's spiritual practices were legendary. He would often fast for extensive periods of time on bread and water. He loved all-night vigils, frequently praying by lying down as if crucified, sometimes kneeling but, miraculously, a foot or more off the floor. Equally legendary was his love of animals. He would feed and heal all animals that came into his vicinity and they understood and obeyed him.

Martin is often portrayed with mice because, according to one story, the monastery was tired of their rodent problems and decided to set traps. Martin was so distressed that he spoke to the mice and cut a deal with them that if they would leave the monastery, he would feed them at the back door of the kitchen. From that day forward, no mouse was seen in the monastery.

However, it is Martin's charity that made him the patron saint of social justice. Martin fed, sheltered and doctored hundreds of families. He also provided the requisite dowry of 4,000 pesos to enable at least 27 poor young women to marry. Last, but not least, he established the Orphanage and School of the Holy Cross, which took in boys and girls of all classes and taught them trades or homemaking skills. Over much criticism, he insisted that the school staff be well-paid so that they would give their best service.

Martin died on November 3rd, 1639 at the age of 59 in Lima. He died surrounded by his brothers and reciting the Credo, his life ending with the words 'et homo factus est (He had became man)'.

His funeral was attended by thousands of Peruvians from all walks of life who vied to get a piece of Martin's habit as a relic. These pieces of the saint's habit have been associated with innumerable miraculous cures. Martin de Porres is buried in the Convento Santo Domingo in Lima, Peru.

[kazuyummy]

yoo, hope you're doing well <3

thoughts/opinions on haikyuu characters who'd be into tomboyish girls? 👁👁

HI HI HI LOVE! you too, it's always a pleasure seeing you in my notifs 🥰 this is a great question - to be honest, i can see a LOT of them dating a tomboyish girl, but i've narrowed it down to the ones who i think would be most into it / actively seek it out.

of course, there are a lot of subcategories when it comes to tomboy-ish (like attitude-wise, hobby-wise - athletic gf, gamer gf, etc.) - and i'm trying to avoid certain stereotypes (like tomboys being un-romantic, self-confident, etc. bc everyone is different!) - so i hope that comes across in my reasoning!

bokuto kotaro: first one that comes to mind for me. specifically, i think he'd love someone he could have friendly competition with - whether through sports, gaming, or just horsing around (he'd definitely love to wrestle tbh), he's down for it! i can see him being physically affectionate though (lots of bear hugs and kisses - but he'd respect your boundaries w this) - not usually super sappy with his words.

miya osamu: not to say that other girls can't be chill and laid back (nor that all tomboys are either), but i do think osamu would like being with someone stereotypically more low-maintenance. and that isn't to say he wouldn't do stuff for you either - he'd love cooking food especially. he'd def be the kind to make burp / fart jokes tbh (atsumu's his brother so you know he would lol) and have the most wicked sense of humour with you.

terushima yuji: this one was the most fun for me - we see him flirt with traditionally pretty girls like kiyoko in the series (i would too, tbh - and fyi tomboys ARE pretty too) but i think he'd actually love it so much if his s/o was a bit of a tomboy. it's a change of pace for him and you know this man LOVES exciting - he would honestly never get bored w you. while yes, he'd want to style your hair for his apprenticeship, he's also down for adventure and would vibe so well with a "tough" personality!

honorable mentions: iwaizumi hajime, tendo satori, hanamaki takahiro, yaki morisuke, kageyama tobio

thanks so much for the ask love, i enjoy answering these types of questions sm so feel free to send more my way 😝

(as per usual,) banners from cafekitsune!

[nattravn-art]

TTRPG Questionnaire

Tagged by @lipsie! Thank you this is lovely! :D

I'll answer for my butch main gal: the paranormal investigator Beatrice Blythe (homebrewed universe based on Call of Cthulhu, a pseudo Noir-fantasy universe set in an alternate reality version of the UK).

GENERAL

Name: Beatrice Blythe

Alias(es): None but her friends nickname her as Bea. A colleague of hers call her Sir. She likes that.

Gender: Female (she/her)

Age: 30

Place of birth: Small town in Wales

Spoken languages: English, Italian

Sexual orientation: Demi/lesbian... GIRLS!

Occupation: Paranormal investigator/detective

Class: Inquiry Agent

Ancestry: Human

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Amber

Hair color: Auburn (red)

Height: 1,80 m

Scars: Nothing notable (she's got a good healing skin)

Burns: Nothing notable

Overweight: No

Underweight: No

FAVOURITE

Color: Teal, warm browns, fall colours in general

Hair color: Doesn't care

Eye color: Doesn't care

Music genre: Doesn't listen that much to music but dances to swing.

Entertainment: Reading, dancing with her girlfriend.

Pastime: Reading too, and napping when she can. She has a bit of a.. sleep problem. She recently picked up endurance running.

Food: Mamma's ragú (she might be obligated to say that by Italian Family Law but she genuinely loves it)

Drink: Coffee, black, no sugar

Books: Nonfiction books for the most, she enjoys reading about practical things. She might enjoy a sappy lesbian romance book or two though, but you'd rather catch her dead before she admits it.

HAVE THEY

Passed university: Took a course in Criminology before an apprenticeship with a Detective before she applied for her own license.

Had sex: Yes

Had sex in public: No, and is not interested

Kissed a man: No

Kissed a woman: You bet!

Kissed someone of other gender(s): No

Gotten tattoos: No

Gotten piercings: No

Had a broken heart: Yes, when she got rejected by a crush. She then thought she didn't have time for relationships with her line of studies/work and grew close to her best friend she TOTALLY thought just saw her as a friend.

Been in love: Is very much in love with her girlfriend Lizzy.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Too many times, both due to her job and the fact otherworldly presences tend to find her at the dead of the night because they NEED her services to break their curse and have no concept of open hours.

ARE THEY

A cuddler: Yes but only in the privacy of her bedroom.

A kisser: Only in private.

A smoker: Yes, of cigarettes and more rarely cigars

Jealous easily: No, she's exclusive with her girlfriend and has absolute trust in her.

Trustworthy: Absolutely, she puts her honour on the line and she has a VERY strong sense of honour. Even it it's detrimental to her sometimes.

Dominant: Quite often. She doesn't particularly like it but she has a very strong "no bullshit" rule and some people she works in collaboration with can pull up quite a lot of bullshit. She also has a temper.

Submissive: It depends of the situation but not often, and as long as she judges it to be fair.

Single: Nope!

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: No

Wanted to kill someone: Yes, but more in the sense that she wished some people would drop dead.

Actually killed someone: No, but she's gotten into physical fights and might have sent some people to the hospital that way.

Ridden a horse: For her girlfriend's sake, yes!

Have/had a job: She's a detective at the head of her an agency that she co-owns with a colleague. She also has 3 associates and is part of a network of paranormal investigators.

Have any fears: Losing her loved ones or have them harmed by looking into too powerful forces/dangerous individuals.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): Single child

Children: Two foster daughters, one that she gets along with greatly and another who she's quite similar with in character. They... tend to clash.

Grandparents: None, all passed

Parents: A witch and writer of a mother and historian of a father! Both are alive and teaching classes at university.

Aunts/Uncles: A bunch of them in Italy that she's barely met, from her mother's side.

Cousins: A bunch in Italy, she's barely met them too.

Pets: No but a benevolent twinned eldritch house spirit who she's welcomed into her home, under the pressure of her girlfriend/colleagues. They eat cobwebs and dust bunnies. She actually really likes them.

tagging @thecrimsonvalley-creates @guided-by-the-blood

[peterjaymurphy]

Peter BIOGRAPHY

Name: Peter Jay Murphy Age: 30 Height: 5'8 Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Widower. B I O G R A P H Y

( before ) On a cold December night, a week before Christmas, the screeches of Marie Murphy giving birth echoed across the run-down mountain neighborhood. At her head, her two eldest boys stuck to her side in concern as their Daddy, Will, swayed in the shadows, already disinterested. The Doctor didn’t notice. He was more concerned about ensuring a safe delivery. A goal that resulted in the successful birth of Peter Jay Murphy. Unlike his brothers though, he only got to enjoy his mother’s warmth for one night before she forgot to put out a cigarette and unintentionally burned herself alive in the very bed he entered the world. This was only the start of a long road ahead. Growing up, he was attached to his brother Sam. Despite their differences, Sam always protected him from their abusive alcoholic father and Adam, their unstable eldest brother. While Peter did eventually bond with Adam and take on the poor characteristics of the older men in his life (substance abuse, petty crime, and dysregulation of his anger), Sam’s sensitive nature had rubbed off on him and he encouraged Peter to pursue his love of drawing and art. By the time he made it to high school, he had ambitions to be a full-time artist. He took advantage of any program he could and became the unofficial set designer for the theater department. He had a chance, despite his white trash background, but lost it when a drug deal went wrong and he stabbed a politician's kid in self-defense. Even though he was a minor, the kid's family pushed to punish him to the fullest extent of the law possible. He got two years in juvie. When he got out, he tried to rebuild his life but his drug-related felony made every door slam in his face. Desperate for money, he started freelancing hand-drawn designs for tattoo studios. He caught the attention of Frankie Dane, a popular tattoo artist in Atlanta. Frankie took Peter under his wing to help him build a career as a tattoo artist. To support himself during his apprenticeship, Peter worked whatever odd jobs he could, some of which violated his probation but he needed money where he could get it. One night, on one of his drug routes he met elementary school teacher and former farm girl Sarah Henley in a dive bar him and Adam frequented. She paused her pool game to throw a drink in Adam's face when he got handsy with her and to say Peter fell in love with a gross understatement. The artist in him finally understood the meaning of a muse. After a year of dating, they got married in her parent's background then bought a place outside the city so she could follow her dream of owning a horse stable. He converted a shed in the yard into a tattoo studio and a quiet place to do his art. It was heaven. They even let Sam move into the guest bedroom so he could escape their childhood home and build a life of his own. It was the least Peter could do after his brother practically raised him. ( the fall )

At three am on a Saturday morning, Adam showed up on the farm with the roar of his bike. He nearly kicked down the front door to tell them Atlanta got overrun by maneaters. The weeks that followed were spent barricading themselves on the farm and trying to avoid going into town or the city as they watched the world fall apart on tv. Then, when the local broadcasts cut out, they listened to it on their radio in candlelight. The plan was to stay on the farm. To wait for it to pass. They'd take care of the horses and hunt for food in the woods. Peter was so sure they could outlast it. But then the starving hordes from the city came. They lost all their horses except Flash. The house went down in a blaze of flames Adam set to distract the dead, and their foursome barely escaped with their lives. Two months in, they linked up with a group they found but everything quickly went south. Adam stole booze from one of the leaders, starting a violent fistfight that ended with him being shot in the head. Then Sam shot the guy who shot Adam before him, Peter and Sarah tried to hide in the forest. The group hunted them. Driving them straight into another horde. Sam got ripped to shreds protecting them, while Peter and Sarah ran. In a rash decision Pete would regret for the rest of his life, he suggested they cross the river to get away from the walkers chasing them, not realizing a boat had crashed upstream, drowning everyone on board. The dead dragged Sarah underwater so fast, he made it most of the way across before realizing she wasn't behind him. Blinded with grief, Peter herded the biters up and led them straight back into the group's camp where he rescued Flash and rode off as the walkers made quick work of the men who killed his family. ( finding redwood )

Weeks later, Peter was riding Flash down an old highway when a walker jumped out of nowhere, spooked the damn mammal, and got him thrown off onto the broken windshield of a car. None of the dirty glass cut deep enough to sever a vein or puncture an organ but one of the cuts on his arm got infected. After catching Flash, he tried to continue on his way but the fever and chills were so bad he couldn't sit upright on the saddle. He would've died if a resident of Redwood didn't find him half unconscious and resting against Flash's mane as he grazed. When he was nursed back to health, he agreed to stay and help with the upkeep of Redwood on the condition he could keep his horse and stay near him.

H E A D C A N O N S

Peter's art style of choice is charcoal and ink so his hands are always stained from working on his recent piece. 

Despite having never finished high school, Peter loves reading. He's fascinated in learning about the anatomy of the human body. Its a current point of interest in his drawings. If he got a do-over, he'd try to be a Doctor. 

When he isn't working, Peter is drinking himself to death and reading his latest three library books at the bar. 

His former experience as a drug dealer allots him a vast knowledge of different medications. Another reason he's interested in eventually helping in the clinic. 

Flash is all he has left of his former life, so he gets very testy if anyone messes with his horse.

Still influenced by his childhood growing up in a secluded mountain shack, Peter tends to care very little about his appearance. He's often dirty and intentionally wears ripped clothing. 

While he was offered a house, Peter can't bear the thought of living in an empty home. He likes the isolation of his tent.

He's careful not to remove his shirt around anyone because he has a lot of scaring on his back. The formerly infected cut on his arm healed into a long scar above his elbow.

[trampledroses]

The Empty

Before Rosie it had been Benjamin Kelly. Fiona had a tendency to find people nobody else wanted and make best friends out of them. Ben was a sweet boy who didn’t fit in anywhere but behind a book. She decided one day, plopping herself down in the seat across from him in the library, that they were friends. Ben had played along at once. Fiona, despite her charms, wasn’t that well-liked at their school (She was a know-it-all.) Ben didn’t mind. He couldn’t look people in the eyes, dressed poor, and had the misfortune of being second best in class. It made him a target just as much as the number one, Fiona. 

Being smart wasn’t as cool as being strong or magical there, which made sense, honestly, because they were so deep in the rural and magical agricultural valley, where knowing history, literature, and politics didn’t seem to matter. The only reason most of the kids were there in the first place was because it was a prerequisite for many technical schools and apprenticeships they’d all transfer to when they turned 16. 

Ben wasn’t one of those kids, and neither was Fiona. It was another reason they bonded. Ben was there on sponsorship from his uncle in the city. His uncle did what he always wanted to: he got out. The Kelly’s raised horses. They weren’t renowned, they didn’t raise prize stallions or magical mares. Ben’s father was of the mind that their big break was right around the corner, and the only thing that would make their luck change was hard work. Ben wasn’t like him or his older brother in that way. His head was always somewhere else. He loved to read. He hated farm life, and ever since he met his uncle, wanted to live in the city like he did. He didn’t really know what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew it wasn’t what was laid in front of him.

Fiona had been sent to the valley school by her family in order to keep her education a secret. It was unsightly for aristocratic girls to get an education where she was from. Don’t ask her why, it seemed incredibly pointless and limiting for no real reason. She was smarter than anybody really knew what to do with. Her brother joked that she had it all figured out by age seven, and after that she’d only been pretending to not know everything to make them feel better. She liked being smart. Everything was a puzzle to her to figure out, like the whole world was all scrambled for her to put back together. It was all she wanted to do in life; to put it back together. She missed her family, sure, but not the way they looked at her, sometimes, like they had to wonder if she was really one of them.

They loved her, of course. She had two older brothers and one younger sister, all exceptional in their own ways, and all who would kill and die for each other. Fiona’s parents were quite lovely, too, and just the principle of letting their daughter go get her education made them saints compared to the rest of the beau monde who’d never dream of sending a daughter away for anything other than being disgraced. She knew it hurt them to do so, she could see it in her mother’s eyes when they said goodbye, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay. There was a pit inside of her that she thinks would have swallowed her up if she’d been suffocated into some marriage market or the manners school. She didn’t know what their excuse was to the other members of society, and she didn’t care. She was here, she wasn’t there.

She and Ben had four years together, inseperable. Fiona even spent the summers helping the Kelly’s on their ranch. It was the best three summers she’d ever had. She was learning outside of books for the first time. Real experience and observation. She fell in love that first summer. She loved her hands on the reins and hair in the wind. There, next to her hunger for knowledge, bloomed her thirst for experience. Ben also fell in love that first summer.

He fell in love with her perfect posture, kneeled in a curtsy helping the foals stand for the first time. He fell in love with her hair falling into her face as she drew pictures of the different types of grasses that grew, and the way she noted which types which horses liked which grasses better. He fell in love with the delight in her eyes when she rode a horse for the first time. He fell in love with the way she tossed and turned on her half-filled cot, the kind Ben had grown up sleeping on, but that was harder than a rock for a girl who’d been accustomed to fluffy goose-down bedding. He was in love when she lied and said she’d slept better than ever before. He knew he loved her because he thought to himself, maybe it’s not so bad here. 

He kept his love to himself. It was wonderfully hopeless, anyways. He knew that. He did. He thought he could be okay with that, too.

It only fell apart years later, two months before graduation. Eight weeks until Ben was expected back at the Ranch.

“Do you know what you’re doing yet? After we graduate.” Ben had asked, sitting side by side on the library floor, their backs against a bookcase and their knees bent up so their legs fit across the aisle. He remembered vaguely his legs being completely stretched out before reaching the other bookcase. They had grown out of this place.

“Not yet. It’ll come to me, I think, when we get closer. Whatever it ends up being, I'm excited.” Fiona said, not taking her eyes from her book on magical physiology.

“I see.” Ben said. He had been stuck on the same page of his own book for a while now. The words seemed to mean nothing, and he had kept rereading the same paragraph to grasp what it was saying. He just couldn’t focus on anything else. In eight weeks, she’ll be gone. 

“You?” She asked, absentmindedly. 

“Well,” He said, and let the sentence hang. He didn’t know how to say what he was thinking. He was nervous. He found himself feeling like that more and more frequently as they closed in on the end of school. He was, quite frankly, terrified. He had no idea how to keep her. He loved her, and he needed her, and he didn’t know what to do with that. She didn’t seem afraid.

“You have something?” Fiona set down her book to look at him. She had a wide smile. She couldn’t contain her excitement to hear his ideas. For months she’d been trying to give him inspiration on what to do post-school. Mountain climbing. Culinary arts. Jewelry making. Politics. They had discussed a thousand different life paths, making up stories for each version of Ben who chose them. It helped them fall asleep at night, passing the baton back and forth on what happens next until one of them goes quiet with sleep.

“It’s… it’s something, alright.” Ben said flatly. Fiona frowned.

“Hey, whatever it is, we’ve thought of worse. I mean for a moment we considered you staying here as a teacher. The look on your face as we realized you’d have to deal with little shits like Maleki and Jessie for the rest of your life was unlike any other.” Fiona laughed.

“That was bad.” He smiled. There was another moment where neither of them spoke, Fiona waiting to hear his idea. Fiona motioned for him to speak. She wasn’t joking around anymore, seeing the look of true apprehension in his eyes. She liked to be light-hearted, but never backed away from a serious conversation. She respected him that way.

“It’s alright, Ben. I won’t judge you, of course not. Whatever it is, I'll be your biggest fan while you pursue it. You know I will.” She said, and he met her eyes. They undid him.

“Come back to the Ranch with me.” He said.

“Yeah, we can do that. I’d love to see the horses before we go. I think your dad will really like that, too. He’s a lot more sentimental than he seems, so you better hug him before you go, too. Even if he doesn’t initiate it first. You’ll be glad you did.”

“No, Fiona.”

“Trust me-”

“Come back to the ranch with me.”

“I don’t understand, Ben.” Fiona’s eyebrows knitted as her brain worked quickly behind her eyes. She flicked her gaze between both of his eyes, searching for something to give her more.

“We can stay there, take it over. My dad’s getting old. My brother can’t do it alone.” Ben said. He was trying not to cry. He hated this feeling. He never felt this vulnerable around Fiona, even when being vulnerable with her he never felt that way because she never made him question if she’d understand. She wasn’t understanding, right now.

“Ben, you hate the Ranch.” Fiona stated, like maybe he’d forgotten.

“You love it.” He said

Fiona was silent for a moment. She was still. When she spoke again, Ben knew he’d just lost her.

“It’s a cage, Ben. We’ve both always known that.” Her voice was a little bit harder than it had been before. She felt what she’d always known about Ben coming apart at the seams. She couldn’t understand how he could suggest that, think that, even.

“You’ve always loved it, though.” Ben had tears gathering in his eyes.

“Because it was never my cage, Ben! And I always knew you could get out. I trusted that you would. You would mean to make it my cage!” She raised her voice, like maybe he would snap out of it if she just said it louder.

“I’m in love with you!” Ben yelled back like an accusation. He was losing her, he was losing her, he had already lost her and he needed her to not be lost, he needed her not to leave him.

“You aren’t! How could you say that? You think you are, you can’t be. I can’t be with you.” Fiona yelled.

“Fiona, I have been in love with you ever since you sat at my table. I’ve wanted to be yours and you mine since that first summer together. I haven’t been able to live without you ever since you let me know you and agreed to know me.” He yelled back, grabbing her hand desperately.

“You’ll have to, because how can you ever claim to know me if you think I'd come with you, be your happy wife on your happy farm and have your happy kids? How could you ask that of me, if you know me? If you love me? You know how that idea rots my soul, you know how that would kill me faster than any knife. You don’t love me, not if you wish that of me.” Fiona said, standing up. She brushed nothing off of her skirt, smoothing it out. Her propriety came out when she was upset, he noted vaguely, endeared even now.

“I thought maybe you’d love me too,” He said softly, voice cracking. “I thought you’d love me enough for that to be enough.”

Fiona was crying, too, now. “I don’t. It’s not.” The words fell out of her mouth. She turned towards the door and left quickly. She stopped briefly at the librarian, Sitha. She uttered a quick apology for the noise and hugged her goodbye. She decided she wouldn’t stay. She couldn’t. 

She had made a friend. She had lost that friend and experienced her second heartbreak by 16. Always ahead of the curve. Her first was her parents, watching her mother hold her father upright the night before she left for good. She watched them grieve her. “We can only love her by letting her go,” Her mother had said. Fiona cried with them. She hadn’t actually realized she was leaving for good. She wanted learning that to change her mind. Fiona still left the next day. She watched her mother’s heart break while her father’s heart froze over. She can still, to this day, feel the empty part of her heart that she had pressed into her mother when she hugged her goodbye, hoping it would mend her cracks. She left a piece of her heart in Ben’s hand, too, when she ripped herself away and left him in their library. Now, she could feel an extra missing part, while she sat upright in her cot, next to an empty one that still smelled like Rosie. This was what being left behind feels like, she thought, and felt the empty inside her. She pulled her heart closer to her chest.

[gregorygerwitz]

The Pirate AU + the main trio

“One day, I’ll be a real knight, and I’ll have a real sword, and I’ll protect the whole kingdom!”

From the time he was six years old, Gregory knew he wanted to be a knight in the king’s guard. He would roam around his home town’s beaten down paths with a stick for a sword, fighting off shadows and pests in return for an extra apple from the produce cart. While he couldn’t enlist in training until he was older, he always knew it would be part of his plan for life - he would wait out the years until he was old enough, and then fight for the safety of the kingdom instead of just shooing rats and bugs away from food. And, for a while, everything went as planned.

He took an apprenticeship with the stable hand on a nearby property, helping out with chores wherever he was needed. He knew how to care for horses, and keep the fields tended, and dust the library, and how every single member of the noble family took their tea on the off chance he needed to prepare it. They were kind to him, as much as the wealthy in the kingdom were ever kind to those in their employ, and the idea of keeping up the work until he turned eighteen became part of his plan, too. The family’s youngest son had the same aspirations that he did, a desire to enlist and fight, and with less than a year’s age difference, they became fast friends...

and maybe a little more.

Sharing a chair in the library on rainy afternoons led to whispers and walks through the fields on sunny ones, kisses stolen behind the stables after he was finished with his work, lingering looks when he served tea. It was an easy back and forth, a silent, hidden dance that he was more than happy to take part in. And then they got caught. And it would have been one thing if his family had a name for themselves, a title, some land beyond the dirt that their home and business stood on, but he was a commoner seducing a noble, and that just wouldn’t do.

So, instead of letting his presence jeopardize his family’s reputation, Gregory ran. He packed a bag and left on the first ship he found, spending what coin he had on safe passage. And if the captain of the ship happened to be a pirate with no qualms letting a stowaway buy passage to somewhere new where no one would know his name or his scandal, that was just fine with him. When the ship was attacked by another crew, he was safely hidden away under a loose board, small and quiet as a mouse - and maybe it led to a teasing name from the crew he was traveling with, the kind that stuck when he decided to stick around instead of disembarking when they docked.

“Maybe if I’d known how heavy the crown was, I wouldn’t have been so excited about it when I was a little girl.”

After spending the first few years of her life as a ward of King Hank, Erin thought everything would be easy. She had the world at her fingertips, everything she could think to ask for, and more than enough people around her that she considered family. That only changed when the palace was attacked, when Prince Justin was taken and killed, leaving the kingdom without an heir.

Except no one behind the attack knew the biggest secret anyone in the royal family had ever kept. There was royal blood in her veins, just enough that she had a right to the crown and, later, the throne, if she were to marry before the king passed on. So, while the attack had succeeded in ridding the kingdom of the crown prince, there was still a princess in the wings, someone who could wear the crown and bear the title. And, from the moment that child had a tiara on her head and the official title, she was watched.

There was never a moment when Princess Erin was left alone. Her nannies and ladies in waiting were trained in combat, and she always had at least one personal guard no more than a few feet from her. She never left the castle. She never interacted with the people she would rule over. She only ever saw nobles at parties and celebrations held within the walls.

It was too dangerous. The people who took Justin might take her, too.

When it came time to announce her betrothal, she didn’t leave her fiancé’s side, and there were half a dozen guards watching their every move. Everyone they came into contact with was studied before they approached. They danced, and drank sparkling wine, and everything was ready for the big announcement until they discovered that both princess and escort were missing, gone from the crowd without a trace.

“Everything is planned out. The party, the wedding, the future. The only thing I have to worry about is what to wear.”

Growing up in a quiet town far from the castle meant that Jay rarely had to worry about the lives of royals. He heard stories about the people who took the prince, and he knew that a few of the soldiers who protected the town had been called back to the city to protect the new princess instead of them. People were unhappy, that was all he understood, and the king’s guard didn’t have the numbers to protect unhappy people when the royal family was in danger.

But they needed the numbers, and he didn’t hesitate before enlisting in training on his eighteenth birthday. Even if the people were unhappy, they didn’t deserve to be left to fend for themselves if things got dangerous again, and there were too many stories of pirates and thieves starting to attack small villages along the coast. His training took place at the castle, within the city walls, where he was more protected than most of the people he had signed up to look out for, and when he showed proficiency with weapons, it was decided that he would be chosen for a unique group.

Instead of being sent out to the coast to watch for pirates or chase off thieves, Jay was assigned to be Princess Erin’s personal guard. He was instructed to never leave his post, to be able and willing to give his own life if it meant protecting hers, and he intended to do exactly that, if the situation called for it. But being close to the princess for every waking moment meant he was also close to the king, and King Hank was far less imposing and threatening after a few dinners. Slowly, as the years passed, he was invited to dress up in fancier clothes at parties instead of his uniform, and dinner every night felt more and more casual, and sitting in on strategy meetings while the princess was getting dress fittings became part of his routine, too.

The day that he was offered a spot in line for the throne felt like a dream.

The king had pulled him aside and explained it all - Erin had a right to the throne as long as she married, regardless of her husband’s social status, and the future king needed to be someone trustworthy. Someone who could protect the queen if things turned dire, and he was already doing that every day. This way, the kingdom could be in safe hands when the day came for someone else to rule, and Jay was practically like a son to him already.

At the engagement celebration, he felt like he was floating on air. For once, being the princess’s guard wasn’t his first priority, and he was able to mingle and discuss things with the nobles he admired from afar. But, with his guard down, everything that could go wrong did.

Instead of enjoying the party, they were cornered by unfamiliar faces and dragged through back hallways that only the highest ranking guards and advisors knew about, beyond the city walls and to a ship at the docks. But it didn’t take all of his training to know exactly where they were. He’d heard plenty of stories of pirates coming closer to the city, whispers from those who guarded the walls, and not many would be brave enough to abduct the princess and soon-to-be prince in the middle of a party focused on them.

"If we’re going to be your prisoners, we should at least know what to call you.” “My crew calls me Mouse. But you can call me Captain.”

[missmonsters2]

Okay okay, hear me out, twist on or continuation of sorority Wanda/Nat...riding instructor Nat and her apprentice/right-hand Wanda at an uppity college with stables? Or a country club of sorts? Sorry, just, popped into my head as a 20 something equestrian...but it's also easy to take to a different kind of riding with crops around

I know nothing about horses and equestrians LOL

BUT!! I imagine that nat and you would be from $money$ while Wanda is on a scholarship & earned her apprenticeship with hard ass work.

Nat is prim and proper, much stricter with you. She adores you, make no mistake, but she’s definitely all tough love in the moment and rewarding after in private when you’re all hers. “I know you can do better than that, sweetheart. You’re way too tense out there, maybe I need to work your body into relaxing, hm?”

Wanda is just a shit-starter. She takes one look at you riding out on the field and how you look like you wanna cry sometimes with nat and gets a terrible idea forming in her head. She’d find you in the stables after, all mopey after feeling like you didn’t do well. She’d really rail you there and tell you what a good girl you were today and nat was so mean. “If miss prim and proper can’t make you feel good, you’re always welcomed to slum it back here with me after, honey.”

[angryducktimemachine]

A few sketches of another member of the little town I'm building with a friend :)

Mirabelle (or Miro, for short) is a young Halfling who grew up in the town! As a young girl she started developing an interesting in blacksmithing and now she's determined to be an apprenticeship as one :)

She also really loves horses! Her family has a few ponies but she's REALLY loving the chance to ride on actual horses!

[sunlit-music]

Thoughts on Denna

*reads Kingkiller Chronicles wiki on Denna* Thank goodness they've changed the wiki so that it no longer says Kvothe has a fatal attraction to her.

*sees the bit that says Denna is bitter* Denna is not bitter. And even if she was, she has every right to be after her traumatic life.

*sees the bit that claims she was unskilled, and that the girl she helped in Horses was unskilled*

*sighs* OK. Look. There is no such thing as unskilled work. OK? Also, Denna is gifted in music, maths and science, given how easily she can keep up with Kvothe, Sim and Wil in a conversation about physics and magic.

Also, the girl in Horses was willing to do an apprenticeship. That takes serious skill! Girls wouldn't have been allowed to do that stuff in Kvothe's world - not from lack of skill, but because of sexism.