#pure spanish horse

[photographe-a-roulettes]

Pure race espagnole - C'est l'une des plus anciennes races équines au monde. Les auteurs romains lui louaient déjà des qualités de cheval de bataille inégalable. Sa réputation atteignit son apogée au XVII et XVIIIème siècle, époque à laquelle aucune cour d'Europe ne pouvait se passer de cette monture. On lui trouvait tant de qualité qu'on l'employa pour améliorer toutes les races.

Lieu : Pairi Daiza

[kiwisbell]

Diamante [javi gutierrez]

You and Javi really, really love each other.

my masterlist!

pairing: javi g x f!reader

tags and warnings: no plot just smut and fluff, tooth-rotting sweetness from our javi, save a horse ride a movie star, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (you know the drill), sex in a limo, face-fucking, slightly sub!javi, spanish pet names, pure unadulterated fluff, and lots of fuckin', javi and reader are sickeningly in love, journalist!reader, eat (out) the rich, getting caught during sex

word count: ~ 7.3k

javi g is the only man and i love him dearly. please enjoy <33

DIAMANTE

There's never been a luckier son of a bitch than Javi G. 

He knows it for a fact. Sure, he's had career troubles (who hasn't?) and a couple life-threatening encounters, but if a man has to face down his cousin's drug cartel to wake up next to the most beautiful woman in the world every single day... 

Yeah. He's lucky as shit. 

The sunlight slips through the window and turns your skin golden. Your brow is smoothed over and your lips parted, your face a field of peace. You're naked from your marathon of sex last night, and the planes of your body are so smooth, so enticing, that Javi's mouth is on you before he's fully awake. He can't help it; his body seeks your warmth; he loves the heat of your skin and the way you softly squirm in your sleep as his lips make a path down your body. 

He cannot fucking believe he found you. 

Alone at the bar during his own birthday party, you walked right up to him and slid a martini under his nose. "Do you care to comment on the recent rumours of an illicit drug trade between Spain and the United States, Señor Gutierrez?"

Javi swallowed hard. Next to him was a beautiful woman he'd never seen before, wrapped in a tight black dress and staring at him with a gleaming smile. You were a vision sent from heaven, and his mouth had gone dry as cotton. 

You watched him with amusement in your eyes, and he noticed a small recording device on the bar top. 

It was then he realised he should be speaking. 

"The… what?"

Once you clarified patiently, he told you he didn't know a thing about such deals (it was the truth, so far as he let his cousin Lucas handle the business), and you just smiled like you already knew. Certainly, Javi was the figurehead: he had the looks, the air of danger about him, enough money to make people like him and fear him. It was smart, and it was all a ruse—one that didn’t seem to fool you for a moment.

You were stunning. A true vision. Your nails were perfectly manicured and your skin so smooth, hair so soft. You looked like you'd never been in a rough part of town, much less a war zone. 

He would find out later how wrong that impression was. 

Javi wanted to shield you from all the horrific things he'd seen. He wanted to push you into his car and drive you far away from the prying eyes of Lucas's men. You didn't deserve to be caught in all of this. A diamond cut from coal, something to cherish.

But you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. You leaned in close, your breath minty and touched with spiced rum, and placed a hand over his. "He's a dangerous man, Señor Gutierrez," you whispered. "And you're too good for all of it."

His breath left him. His eyes found yours once more, and it took him a moment to conjure the words. "How do you know what I am?"

"I know a lot about you." Your eyes shone with compassion. "Probably why I already like you so much."

He did not want to fuck this up. He would not fuck this up. 

That is, until he let his mouth do all the work. 

"Can I take you to dinner?" he blurted out. 

You sat back as a grin overtook your face. With a swift flick of your fingers, you turned the recorder off. "I can't use any of this," you said with a huff. 

Javi leaned forward this time. "I'll give you anything you want."

"Then how about we start with a drink," you said, "and you can tell me all about that movie I know you're writing."

That was five years ago. It took him six months to get you to agree to go on a date. Between your travelling, his travelling, and your insatiable desire to put yourself in danger at all times for the right story, you and Javi could never work. After the first date (a steakhouse, then a boat ride, then stargazing, and then and then and then until you and he were stumbling through his home, knocking everything over until you reached his bedroom and he spread you out, made you scream with pleasure), there was nothing you could possibly do to keep yourself away from him. You were Javi's as he was yours: instantly, inextricably, and for the rest of your fucking lives. 

The problem was keeping it secret. Five years of hiding, sneaking around, receding into dark corners and safe houses, and making time wherever you could find it. It was all worth it, a hundred times over, to keep you safe, but he wanted to show you off—give you the world, give you the publicity you deserved, show you off in your pretty dresses and let the world know you had him wrapped around your finger. 

You had given him so much shit for facing down Lucas by himself. You waited for him all day in the safe house outside Mallorca, only to chew him out for twenty minutes straight when he arrived, bleeding from the arm but beaming wide. He was used to your anger; when it rose, you could go on for as long as you had air in your lungs. He knew you weren't truly mad at him. You just had to let it go. Once it was out of your system, you threw yourself at him and kissed him until you were both breathless. "Now you know how I feel," he muttered against your mouth. "My dangerous girl."

"Don't push your luck," you snapped, going right back in to devour him once more. 

"You love me?" he whispered into your mouth. 

Your eyes met his when you pulled back and he watched them gleam with admiration. "I love you."

Now that he doesn't have to hide, he flaunts you every fucking second of every goddamn day. 

You blink awake when you feel pressure between your legs. "Javi," you gasp at the sight of his messy hair beneath the bed sheet. 

Javi grins up at you from between your legs, resting his head on your thigh. His eyes are like a puppy's, wide and eager. "Hi."

"Hi," you laugh, your head falling back against the pillow. "What time is it?"

"It's Sunday. Time doesn't matter on Sundays. Can I taste you, mi cielo?"

You have to hand it to him: Javi knows what he wants. It's hard to consolidate your amusement and arousal as he squeezes your flesh, kneads you like he's getting out all his stress, spreading your thighs wide enough for him to lie comfortably between them. "You don't want breakfast first?" you coo, threading your fingers through his hair while he uses you like a pillow. 

On any other day, breakfast could be brought to your room by the chefs at a moment's notice, or you and Javi could cook together (well, you could cook while he distracts you by touching you all over). But he's right: today's Sunday, the chefs don't work, and you're so fucking happy here. Here, in your giant bed, in your giant bedroom, where you're the only two people in the world. 

You shriek with laughter when Javi, kissing his way up your belly, brushes his fingers up your sides. "Tickles!" you manage to gasp. 

Javi continues his work, holding onto your hips while he makes it to your breasts. Your nipples are perky in the cool morning air, and Javi can't resist taking one into his mouth. "Oh," you sigh, "you're unbelievable."

He just hums, sending a shockwave down your spine. “You're so beautiful."

You smile tiredly, brushing your hand through his soft hair. "Look who's talking," you say, voice groggy with sleep. "My handsome man."

He preens under your attention, his need to please you so desperate it makes him shiver with excitement when he ducks his head and bites down on the inside of your thigh. You yelp, then laugh, your voice like bells in his head. "Too early," you say weakly. 

"Mi diamante, I wanna make you feel good," he says, voice pitching up in a whine. "Te amo. Please."

His fingers squeeze your thighs, his pleading brown eyes craving your consent, pupils dark with arousal, and you're wide awake, nodding your head and brushing your thumb across his cheek. "Te amo," you say softly. "My love. Make me feel good."

He's so eager it fills your chest with warmth. His big hands are curled around your thighs to keep you still as he flattens his tongue between your folds and licks up your slit. He knows your body so well that he laughs when your hips jerk up to meet his mouth. "Patience, mi cielo ," he mumbles, flicking his tongue against your clit.

It's you in charge of things around here, and he knows it. He loves it, in fact. It makes him so hot with need, so hard he grinds his hips against the mattress for relief when you grab hold of his hair and beg, "More, Javi. Please, honey."

"'M going to give you more," he says, diving back in and licking deep inside you, tasting your wetness and latching onto your clit. You let your head fall back when a weak moan rips from your throat, but you want to watch him while he eats you out. Lifting your head back up, you see him with his eyes closed, fingers digging into you so hard they'll leave bruises, groans spilling from his mouth like he's the one lost in pleasure. It makes you whimper his name, and he opens his eyes to meet yours as he continues sucking at your clit. 

“S’good,” you tell him, writhing so badly he snakes one hand up to press down on your belly. “So gooood... Oh! Javi—fuck!”

You're loud in bed, and so is Javi, and you both annoy the housekeepers to no end. You hang a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door from dusk until noon each day, just in case. Still, it's hard to believe they don't hear the noises coming from your bedroom every night. Javi signs their cheques, so they never say a word.

He continues alternating between sucking and lapping up your arousal with his expert tongue while you cry out his name like a chant. His own moans create delicious vibrations up your centre as he devours you like he's eating his last meal. “Javi, I'm going to… I’m—” He wiggles his tongue back and forth across your clit and you're bursting, soaking his tongue and slapping your hand over your mouth to drown your cries. 

He reaches up and grabs your wrist. "Let me hear you," he mutters, licking everywhere but your clit to keep from overstimulating you as you come down from your high. You're sighing and groaning, your body melting into the mattress as your bones deflate. You feel like you're floating.

He's crawling back up your body and pressing gentle kisses to your neck. You feel his erection on your belly, heavy and leaking, but he's paying no mind to the fact he's hard as rock. He's just lavishing attention on you. Javi never takes, just gives and gives and gives. While he seems to take just as much pleasure from making you come as you do, it feels so good to make him happy, to make him orgasm, watching his beautiful face scrunch up when he spills down your throat, hearing him ramble away in Spanish when you're taking him so well, tan bueno . He doesn't ask for a thing, but you love to give and give as much as he will let you. 

That said, his pretty brown eyes are gleaming with a plea. "One more?" he begs, sliding a hand up your side, making you shiver. "Can I have one more?"

You grin up at him, pushing his damp hair back from his face. It's curling around his neck and forehead from the sweat, and he looks as fucked as you feel. "Breakfast," you say, tipping your head up to capture his mouth. "And then I'll give you what you need, baby." 

He growls into your mouth. "Can't wait to taste you again, mi cielo. Need it."

Smirking, you reach between your bodies and squeeze the base of his cock. He sucks in a breath, bucking against you, a whine leaving his mouth. “That's not what I meant, my love. I'm going to give you what you need.”

His forehead drops to yours. “I just need you, my love.”

You slide your hands up his shoulders, admiring the smooth, hard muscles, and cup his face. "My sweet boy.” He grins, nudging his strong nose against yours. “Pick out my clothes for today, okay? Anything you want. We’ll go out, do something.”

His eyes are bright with eagerness. "Anything?"

You laugh. "It's gotta cover my ass, baby. We might be in public."

"But it's such a beautiful ass," he says, rolling you over so you're on your stomach, sprawled out under him as he crawls down your body and makes a point of his statement by biting into the flesh of your right cheek.

You yelp. “Javi!”

He lands a smack to your ass. You wiggle it slightly, loving the way his eyes darken until the pupils are large enough to swallow his irises. "Want everyone else looking at it? Want them all to see?"

He huffs, his head falling onto your ass like it's a pillow. “Fuck. I'm sorry, mi diamante . I'm putting you in a burlap sack. I want you all to myself.”

He makes his way back up toward you at your gentle urging, kissing all the way, until you can gather him in your arms again. 

You hum softly, resting your head right where his heart is. "I'm all yours, my love. Right where I wanna be." Tracing your finger around a freckle on his left pectoral, you add, "And I'll look just as hot in a burlap sack."

Javi chuckles, kissing your head. "I know, darling."

~

"Javi?"

His voice drifts from the bedroom. "¿Sí?"

You smirk, knowing what's about to come. "Can you zip me up?"

The instant noise of footsteps makes you laugh, and Javi's right behind you, his gaze hungry as it lands on your bare back. His hands settle at your hips. "Muy hermosa ..." The zipper begins to slide downward until it catches at the small of your back. “Everybody will be looking at you.”

You say his name through an exasperated laugh. "Zip me up, not down."

But he's got his mouth at your shoulder, squeezing your hip. "You're so soft," he mumbles. "This dress is beautiful."

"Made the right choice," you hum, digging your fingers into his locks when he hits a sweet spot at your throat. "Javi, baby, we'll be late."

"We can go anywhere we want, any time we want." His hand slithers around the waist and presses on your belly, pulling you against him. "We're never late. Everyone else is early."

Your head falls back against his shoulder when he slides the baby blue dress (he bought it for you because it matched one of his best suits) down your body and leaves you back at square one. "Your logic"—you swallow a groan when his fingers tease your nipples—"is fallible."

"Big words," he muses, "my little reporter. Want to make you forget them all."

"My hair will be all messy because you can't keep it in your—ah!" You gasp when his fingers find your clit. You shudder and collapse against the countertop, bracing your hands there to keep yourself from face-planting. "Mmm," you keen, arching your back against him. You can see one another in the mirror, and your eyes are half-closed. His are enraptured with the way you grind against his fingers. "Fuck… oh, fuck , Javi.”

Javi reaches down to unbuckle his belt, but you're spinning around and dropping to your knees before he can get his pants down. You look up at him through your lashes, freshly painted with mascara, and watch his mouth drop, one hand clutching the sink. "Let me," you whisper. 

" Sí, sí ," he says, nodding eagerly, murmuring over and over. You slide his Cartier belt right out of the loops and drape it around your neck. Next come the button and zipper, then you're dropping his pants low enough to palm him over his boxers. Javi sucks in a breath through his teeth. Your mouth waters at the sight of the hair trailing down to his erection, and you nuzzle your face against him, hands gripping his thick thighs, your tongue slipping out to lick up his length over his underwear. Javi's moan melts you. "I… I…”

"Use your words, baby," you tell him. "They don't have to be big ones."

" Por favor ," he manages. " Por favor, mi cielo ... Please keep going."

You smile up at him. "You want to fuck my mouth, handsome?"

You aren't sure if he even heard you because he's gone silent. But his entire body stiffens, his cock twitches under your cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

"I want you to," you say, squeezing him again. "You want it too, right, sweetheart?" Seemingly unable to speak when you're touching him like this, he nods. "Good boy. You wouldn't deny your girl when she needs to taste you, would you?”

"No, no, no." He's blind with desire, dripping precum, the grey of his boxers darkening. "No, don't want that. Want you to..."

"Words, my love."

"Want to—to fuck your mouth."

Your heart swells for him. "That's it, honey. I'll squeeze your thigh like this if you need me to stop, okay?" Another nod. "I love you, Javi."

" Te amo, te amo ," he whimpers, his hand cradling your head. You're taking him out of his boxers and starting slow, letting your spit fall on his shaft and moving your hand up and down the length of him. He's so keen it makes you ache, but he stops himself from bucking his hips, wanting you to take over. And you do. 

You take your time licking at the tip, making him whine with impatience. When you flatten your tongue against the underside of his shaft and lock eyes with him, his are watery. "Relax," you tell him, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip. "I'll be good to you. Okay?"

"Always good to me," he manages with a breathy laugh. 

You settle your lips around his head and teasingly flick out your tongue along the vein on his shaft. He shudders under your grip. “Shit.”

You hum around him and guide his hand to your hair. Use me , your eyes tell him. He's always reluctant to take you like this, and his eyes glitter with lust-addled hesitance. But slowly, gently, he cradles your head and pushes his hips forward until your nose is nestled in the hair at the base of his cock. He’s warm and heavy on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, relishing his taste, and he groans. “Are you okay?” he manages. You just blink slowly up at him, eyes watering, makeup smearing. Keep going .

He begins a languid rhythm, your throat suctioning around his length as he thrusts his cock down your throat, using your mouth to pleasure himself. 

At some point, his eyes shutter closed, his mouth falls open, and he stops treating you like he's afraid to hurt you. He loses himself inside your hot, wet mouth, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you on his dick, your tongue slipping out again to swirl around the head. He makes a strangled noise at the same time you choke on him, spit and mascara and lipstick concocting on your face and throat.

He forgets English in his haze, muttering and cursing in Spanish as his hips get sloppy. He's faltering, his grip ironclad around a mess of your hair, and you only get more eager as he gets closer. 

“Tan buena, tan buena, mi amor. Mierda—” He cuts himself off with a high-pitched grunt, slamming his palm down on the vanity top to keep himself from falling over. He comes hard, suddenly, his back pinching up in a hundred twinges of white-hot pleasure. He can only say your name in a cracked whisper as you anchor yourself on his cock and take every drop of his cum down your throat. 

He watches it in awe: his cock pumping hot cum inside your mouth, your hands resting on his hips, your throat expanding with every eager swallow. You're wrecked, covered in makeup and sweat and spit and his cum, dribbling down your lips as he pulls out of you. Your tongue darts out and licks it all up. 

Panting, he swipes his thumb beneath your eyes. “Made you cry,” he says weakly. 

You smile up at him. “Happy tears. Horny tears. Did that feel good, my love?”

“So fucking good, amor.” Javi helps you to your feet and gathers you in his arms. He gently wipes the makeup from your face, even though the sight of your ruined mascara makes his softening cock twitch, back in his pants. “My beautiful woman. Love of my life.”

Your grin widens, your fingers smoothing his damp hair away from his forehead. “You look… really good when you come.”

He knows how that feels. 

~

Javi loves his craft. He loves to write and act and chew on the meat of a really good story. He loves when he gets inspired, scrambling out of the pool despite your pouting and scribbling his ideas down in the notepad he always carries. He likes to write on paper; it’s the undeniable authenticity of a hand, a pen, a once-living tree. 

You watch him as he works, resting your chin on your arm as you kick your feet behind you in the water: his brow scrunching in concentration, his lips moving in tandem with the words he puts to paper. He never scratches out an idea, and fuck, you love him, your heart clenching at the way he sees life as something beautiful, something bright and pulsating with possibility. 

Javi loves his craft. He doesn’t love all the fucking things he has to attend.

Before he had you, he didn’t know how he made it through so many public events. He’s wearing an eggplant-purple suit, a black dress shirt beneath, his Cartier watch and belt and the cuff links you bought him as an anniversary gift—shaped like two golden guns. You’re securing earrings on your lobes, the pearl teardrops he bought you for that same anniversary. 

Your dress is long, black, elegant; it has one long sleeve and leaves your other arm bare, but the long slit up the thigh on the opposite side balances the asymmetry. It’s a masterpiece of tailoring, specially fashioned for you—but that may just be your beauty. It is universal, mutually intelligible among all humans, all species. It is a thing that cannot be misunderstood. He considers it his job to ensure it never is. 

You’ve been eyeing him up. It’s impossible not to be drawn to the broad cut of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist underneath that rich purple jacket. His hair is combed back but the curls at the nape of his neck remain. You admire his ass with little subtlety. This man is yours . He's beautiful, strong, tall, and so good. It overwhelms you, and you can't help but meet him in front of the mirror. Your hands find his shoulders as you kiss the patchy spots in his beard. “You're beautiful,” you whisper into his skin. 

Javi’s pout is award-winning, his cheek falling onto your shoulder. "Mi amor, I'm going to die tonight."

You caress his jawline and grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger to bring his face up to your level. "You're being dramatic,” you tell him, placing a kiss on his miserable mouth. "It's one night."

He looks into your eyes, dead-serious. "I will surely drop from the heart attack all this stress gives me,” he whines. "Will you resuscitate me?"

You nod. "I used to be a lifeguard." 

It's endearing how easily he gets distracted by your mouth. "Mmm."

"Javi," you whisper.

"Mmm?" he says again, still vaguely chasing your lips. 

"If you make it through tonight without dropping dead, I'll let you do whatever you want to me in the limo on the way back home."

It does its job of perking him up. He grins at you and reaches for the zipper at the side of your dress. “Javi,” you say. “After the party. Yeah?”

He sighs through his nose, nestling his tense brow into your temple. “After,” he grumbles. 

You nudge your head to the side and kiss away the frown. “Help me with my shoes?”

His gaze finds you, wide and wanting, and you turn into a puddle at the sight of him so excited to just touch you. You lift your pair of sleek black-strapped heels—Louboutins, part of a PR package from Javi’s last film—and place them into his hands. He drops to one knee while you sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. 

Javi tenderly lifts your ankle, caressing the bone with his thumb, and slides the shoe onto your foot. He's so gentle when he secures the strap, ensuring they don't pinch your skin, asking if it's okay. You're so breathless from his beauty and his tenderness that you can only nod. 

He takes his time lifting the goosebumps on your body as he slides the other shoe on. “Beautiful,” he says, sliding your leg up onto his shoulder and pressing a kiss to your knee, your thigh, indulging in the taste of you, the sweetness of your shampoo, your body wash, your softness. 

He knows there isn't time to make you come, but he wants to. If he had his way, he'd spread you out and fuck you until you scream, but he doesn't have it his way. He needs to attend this party. He needs to schmooze and network and smile. He'll do it with you on his arm. 

“You’ll stay with me?” he says, helping you to your feet. You're on more even ground thanks to the height of your heels. 

You grin at him and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “Why would I ever want to let you go?”

To the credit of the hosts, the party is certainly lavish. It's a screenwriters’ (or is it screen actors’?) congregation for The Association of Something Or Another, and Javi holds your hand a little tighter when you pass through the threshold into the swanky hotel ballroom. Photos flash in front of a large balloon arch decorated with gold and black and there’s a long banquet table catered with too-small dishes that couldn’t fill up a fish’s stomach. At least everything looks nice.

“Mr. Gutierrez,” says a voice behind the pair of you. It’s producer-actor-schmoozer John Cayman, followed by a mousy publicist, beaming at Javi and clapping him on the shoulder like they’re old friends. “How’ve you been, man?”

Javi frowns a little at the way Cayman hasn’t even greeted you, but you squeeze his hand. “John,” he says politely, giving him a brief smile. “How is your latest project coming?”

Cayman shrugs in a what-can-you-do way. “Got caught up in pre-production after some budgeting issues. Not my department.” 

It’s code for The producer bailed but my pride won’t let me reveal that. His eyes finally slide toward you, a bit dismissive, and he says politely: “How are you…?”

You supply him with your name, courteous as ever, but Javi’s hand is squeezing the circulation out of yours. Cayman certainly isn’t shy about being a dick. Your face and your name are plastered over the Internet all the fucking time, and he has the gall not to recognise you. “Right. Well, you look lovely. Very beautiful.”

“Of course she does,” says Javi, turning his head to kiss your temple. He whispers in your ear: “Eres la cosa más radiante que he visto. Y este tipo es un cabrón (You're the most radiant thing I've ever seen. And this guy is an asshole).”

“Juega bien (Play nice),” you tell him, trying to stifle a giggle.

Javi pouts. “Pero está siendo cruel contigo (But he’s being cruel to you).” 

“This night is about you, Javi,” you whisper, your thumb rubbing circles over the tattoo on his hand. “You don’t have to worry about me. Look—he got bored.”

Javi’s eyes look up from you to sweep the room for Cayman, but he’s shoehorning himself into another conversation by the hors d’oeuvres table. You smile brightly and pluck two champagne flutes from a passing server. “To wishing we were somewhere else,” you toast.

Javi clinks his glass against yours. “The beach,” he muses, crowding you and kissing your cheek. “The sun and the sand. Paris. Venice.” You feel his teeth graze your jaw when he grins. “California. My Hollywood beauty, hmm?”

You lift your brows playfully. “I’m your arm candy, baby.”

Javi hums, tugging you close around the waist. “We’re leaving.”

“We’ve been here for twenty minutes.”

“And it's been long enough. One idiot insulting you is two too many.” 

“I can take insults, Javi,” you tell him. “I interrogate people for a living.”

“Well, I don't have to take it.” He brings your hand to his lips. “We're going home.”

You just laugh and nod. He’s a little more commanding than usual when he takes the flute from your hand, sets them both down on a table nearby, and guides you toward the limousine. You’ve seen it in the way he used to handle the family business: his posture changes, his broad shoulders squaring, and his brow furrows, his twinkling eyes shrouded in a veil. You realise it was always an act, but sometimes he reminds you that he can be a dangerous man. Arousal coils hot and tight in your core as you practically scramble for the limo.

You both slip inside, and once the driver pulls away from the curb, Javi lifts up your ankle onto his lap and begins to slip the shoe off your foot. The privacy screen is closed, so you're both alone. “Beautiful legs,” mutters Javi, officially in his own world now that he gets to act on your promise from earlier. He slides one shoe off and presses a flurry of kisses to your calves. “Beautiful skin.”

“Javi,” you giggle, offering him your other leg, his big hands working deftly at the straps of your heels. He suddenly wraps his arms around your thighs and jerks you toward him until you're on his lap. You squeal, smacking his chest. “Gonna give me whiplash, cowboy.”

“This beautiful body.” Javi buries his face in your neck, his hands around your waist and his fingers splaying over your back, warming the skin beneath your dress. He loves to inhale your scent: your sweet perfume (you've always worn the same Valentino since he bought it for you as a birthday present—before he'd even gotten you to agree to a date), the slight stick of dewy sweat to your neck as your arousal deepens and your dress begins to suffocate you. You're a goddess and he worships your body like it, his strong nose nudging your jaw aside to give him more access to your throat. He bites playfully, making you gasp. 

“So… fucking… beautiful.” He brushes your hair away from your neck so he can kiss it properly, tasting you as much as he wants because you told him he could. You let yourself melt into his touch, your tits squished up against his pressed shirt, tilting your head up to give him more of you. A moan slips from his mouth as he plunders your sweetness. 

He knows precisely every region of your body that will turn you into a puddle of wax. You're warm and sticky and malleable in his arms. Javi’s hand slides up to the back of your head and pulls you down to slot his mouth over yours. It's a slow but deep kiss; he devours you, his tongue sliding against yours, taking and taking while you try to keep up. You've given him permission to do what he likes, and the night has awakened something in your sweet, gentle boyfriend. 

“Javi.” 

He grunts at the sound of your whimper. It's bordering on pathetic, your hips wiggling in his lap, chasing his lips when he pulls away to look at you. You're both panting, and he grins, that twinkle back in his eye as he takes in your flushed chest, your swollen lips. 

“I want to take off your dress,” he says, toying with the zipper at the back of your gown. “And I want you to sit on my cock.”

You can hardly breathe, but your fingers tangle in his hair to ground you as you nod vigorously. His voice is dark and clear and leaves no room for compromise, and it thrills you so terribly that your panties are soaked through by the time he begins to pull down your zipper. 

“Please fuck me, Javi.” 

“I will, mi amor.” His hands slide slowly up your thighs, reverent in his touch, until he reaches your ass and kneads handfuls of it. You unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants and you're salivating with need when you finally reach into his underwear and wrap your hand around his shaft. “Fuck,” he grunts. “Need to be inside you.”

His hands are needy now. They bunch up your dress around your hips and pull you desperately toward him, your cunt sliding up against his thigh. Javi shuffles down on the bench seat eagerly, letting you sit right on his hips. You jerk him slowly, leaning down to kiss him. 

Your hand feels so good around his cock, your scent enveloping him, that Javi can barely keep his mouth against yours. It keeps falling open in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut. “Shit,” he says at last, forehead falling against yours. “Shit. Let me feel you. ¿Por favor?”

“I said you can do whatever you want, Javi,” you tell him, nibbling on his earlobe. “I meant it.”

He shifts suddenly, pressing you up against him with his hand on your back and using his other to guide his cock to your entrance, your panties shoved hastily to the side. Your cunt sucks in the tip, your head falling back and Javi’s hips bucking. It shoves him deeper, making you cry out, and just because he can do whatever he wants to you, his hand slips over your throat and squeezes at your pulse points. He doesn't want to cover your mouth; he likes to hear what he does to you. He wants to make you feel good. And the way your eyes roll toward the back of your skull—

Yes. You definitely feel good. 

“That's it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, watching in awe as you take him all the way, the tight, hot seal of your cunt a vise around his cock. “That's my beautiful girl. Mi diamante.”

“Oh, Javi,” you gasp, “you're so big. You feel so good. So deep—ah!” 

He loves the way your brows furrow as he grinds up into you. Javi’s breath puffs out with the exertion of not moving as you situate yourself on top of him. You shuck down the top of your dress until it's a mess of fabric at your hips, your tits bare for him to use the way he likes. Javi is balls-deep before he can even form words again. When he does, they're mostly Spanish, and mostly curses. 

“Please,” you whine. “I want to ride you, Javi. Let me feel your big cock.”

He will. He’ll let you. Your hips rock back and forth, taking the whole length of his cock with each punch of your thighs down onto his as you begin to quicken your pace. 

Javi’s lips part in the shape of your name. It's sloppy in such a confined space but you still manage to make it look graceful: the gentle undulation of your hips as you grind on his cock to make yourself feel good and the flex of your thighs as you lift yourself up and down, making him feel good. 

Fuck. He remembers your first night together. Crashing into furniture in his gigantic foyer as you struggled to find your way to the stairs, refusing to part from one another. He nearly toppled over the railing only for you to pull him by his tie and tug him all the way to his bedroom. For good measure, you knocked over another vase on a small table before you made it to the bed.

Javi took control that night. He had chased you for so long—literally—around the globe, persevering past your gentle rejections. Jobs like ours don't facilitate quality time. We're busy people, Javi. We both have needs, and you'll get sick of me. 

He used that night to show you how wrong you were. He wanted to show you how devoted he was. He wanted to put all your worries into a mortar and grind them down into fine dust. He wanted to scatter them to the wind atop a mountain. He still doesn't like it when you frown. 

Except for when your brow furrows in pleasure, the way it does now. “Jav—” You're cut off when he places a hand on your lower belly and presses his thumb against your clit. “Javi! God, you're so good. You feel so good, baby.”

He's golden with pride and you laugh a little breathlessly at the grin that crawls up his face. He can't help but beam when you tell him how good he is to you, but it's oh-so easy for you to clench around his cock and dissolve that smile into a look of bliss. His head falls back against the seat and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “Eso se siente tan bien.”

“Lo sé,” you laugh softly. 

Your pussy leaks onto his cock and dribbles out onto his pants, soaking him with the scent of you. You're both sweating, panting. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and lavishes it with his tongue as he sucks. Your moan is high-pitched and weak, your pace on his cock stuttering. He takes over by grinding deep inside you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. He's so close, but he needs you there first. 

You come first in everything. 

“Ja—Javi.” Your thighs begin to tremble with the force of your orgasm until you can't even hold yourself up anymore. “I… oh, fuck, I can’t—”

“You can. Hold onto me, amor.” You wind your arms tightly around his neck and he hoists you higher up his hips. With the new position established, Javi begins to fuck you. Hard. 

You're so sensitive from your orgasm that you whine into his neck, but he shushes you gently, soothing your cries with his gentle hands at the same time his cocks wrecks you, his thighs pounding relentlessly against your ass. 

He's so deep, so fucking thick and heavy inside you, that you can feel the weight of him in your belly. And the rest of him handles you with such care that the contrast twists your head into senseless knots. He's always been like that: able to handle you in just the right ways to banish all thoughts from your head besides him, him, him. He's a little selfish that way. 

Javi’s brows draw up in the middle and his cock twitches inside you. “Shit, shit, oh my—”

Light suddenly floods the backseat of the limo and a silhouette eclipses it. 

“Señor Gutierrez, we've—oh.”

You yelp, your head jerking to the side so fast that you accidentally smack it against the ceiling of the limo. Javi’s instincts are sharper than yours, rushing to cover your tits and angle your body away from the driver. 

He’s still fucking inside you, still spilling his cum inside you, and although the driver is averting his gaze, Javi grits his teeth. “Privacidad,” he hisses. 

“I’m sorry, sir. So sorry.” The poor man is flushed red, his back to the two of you, but you're still hiding your face in Javi’s neck as he keeps your tits hidden by pressing them up against his chest. 

“We’ll be inside shortly,” you tell the driver, kind as ever. “Thank you, Henry.”

The old man scurries dutifully away and you keep your burning face nestled in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck. “That… was so embarrassing.”

Because you and Javi have been caught by many a housekeeper before you had the DO NOT DISTURB sign made, you swallow your humiliation and laugh a little about the ridiculousness of it all. 

Javi huffs, cradling the back of your head. “I should fucking fire him. Malo. Knows he's supposed to knock first.”

And because he's getting mad at the thought of someone seeing you in a vulnerable state, you decide to calm his nerves. “He’s old, baby,” you coo, soothing him by pressing kisses to his throat and curling your fingers in his hair. “It’s okay. I’m sure he's seen a woman’s body before.”

“Not yours.” Javi pats your ass gently. “Never yours.”

“Come on, guard dog. Let's go inside.” You clamber off him and hastily pull your panties back on so none of his cum drips down your thighs. “At least we got to come.”

Javi kisses the crown of your head. “Good. That killed my mood.”

~

“Mi amor!” shouts Javi from the hallway. “They want it! They want my movie!”

Javi comes barreling into the bedroom, waving a thick manuscript around in his hand. You're rarely fazed by his theatrics, but this time, it's special for him. You pause halfway through taking out your earrings and let him scoop you up into his arms, twirling you around and planting kisses all over your face. 

You shriek with laughter and try to hold on, but you're both a little dizzy when he stops spinning. Together, you topple into the bed, Javi still seeking your mouth when he lands on top of you. “I’m… so proud… of you,” you tell him between kisses. 

He’s so gleeful your chest pinches. “There's so much to think about,” he muses, a small tornado of energy as he pins you to the bed and plants kisses all over your body. It's like he's writing his to-do list on your skin. “I need a director. I need to scout locations. I need an entire fucking crew. I need—”

“Actors,” you say, a bit breathless in your attempt to catch up to his speed. “You need actors, baby.”

“Yes!” He drops his forehead to your sternum, right between your tits. “I need actors. I need the most talented, beautiful star quality this world has ever seen.” 

You thread your fingers through his soft, long hair. “And you need a Diamond.”

Javi grins up at you. “My sparkling Diamond. That will be a difficult casting choice, my love,” he says, tracing your hip bone with his thumb. “Diamond is a… uniquely beautiful woman. She shines brighter than every other character. She is the heart of my movie. The melody.”

“What sort of lucky woman will get that role, hmm?” You revel in the hungry spark in his eyes. His excitement is infectious. “That’s a lot to measure up to.”

“I know.” Javi crawls up your body until he can put his mouth on yours once more. “I wrote her after you.”

[blues824]

hi blue!! ^_^ can i request prompts 21 and 10 with rook pretty pleaseeee ★

You requested: Mistletoe + Secret Santa

Preface: You are married to Rook, and this happens in the future. You have 3 children (2 girls, 1 boy), and their appearances are not described, and they can either be biological or adopted. Gender-neutral reader as well. I used Google Translate, as I speak Spanish and not French.

Rook Hunt

The children were very excited to go to the market, and you could tell by the way the three of them took your hands and dragged you and your husband towards the bustling marketplace. For the holidays, instead of buying a bunch of presents, the children wanted to do a Secret Santa so that the gifts were personal and heartfelt. 

Juliette (your oldest), Adeline (your middle), and Pierre (your youngest) all wrote things that they wanted, and depending on who they got, you would give them their recipient’s wishlist. Your husband and yourself did not put your names in, as you wanted to give them a chance to build a sibling bond.

“Come on! Or the presents will all be gone!” Juliette shouted. You laughed as you picked up Pierre, who was only a toddler. In turn, Rook tossed Adeline up and over his shoulder, making the little girl laugh as well

Once you arrived at the entrance, you had the girls go with Rook and you took Pierre with you. You then made a plan to meet up with one another back at the entrance in an hour, and your husband hoisted Juliette over his shoulder as well as he marched in the opposite direction you were going. You set your son down and let him take your hand to lead you wherever he wanted to go.

You were aware that he had gotten Juliette, and so you brought him to the toy vendors to see what horses they had to offer. Yeah, one thing about your daughter was that she was obsessed with horses. Adeline was interested in archery. Pierre loved stealing your phone and taking photos of pretty flowers that he found near your cottage.

The little boy was shouting in excitement as he found a tiny horse figurine. It came with a few different accessories, kind of like the Build-A-Bear’s back in your world. You let Pierre customize the horse as you paid for it, and the pure excitement on his face made your heart melt. You purchased a gift bag as well so as to not show his sisters the gift and reveal which name he chose.

~~~~~~~~

On the other side, a man with his two young daughters was being dragged around to secretly buy a gift for his wife as well as their secret santa gifts. Juliette had pulled Adeline’s name, and Adeline had pulled Pierre’s name. Now, with Juliette, it was going to be a bit difficult because her younger sister was extremely smart and observant.

As they wandered about the different stands, Rook spotted something. It was mistletoe, fake, as real was poisonous when consumed, and you had young children around. The chances of your son putting it into his mouth were greater than desired, but that was the reality. Anyway, he stopped to purchase a sprig. The owner was a florist, and he spotted a bunch of red roses as well.

“Souhaitez-vous acheter une rose pour votre [Parent Title]?” He asked his children. (Would you like to purchase a rose for your [Parent Title]?) The two little girls nodded and he handed them three roses. Then, he kept the sprig of mistletoe for himself as well as another rose.

“Papa, didn’t you give [Parent Title] a rose when you first confessed to them?” Adeline asked.

“Yes, I did, mon doux ange, but their radiance could put even the most beautiful rose to shame.”

~~~~~~~~

An hour later, you all regrouped, and your daughters acted as though you hadn’t seen them for years. You showered them both in kisses and hugged them, asking them how their shopping went, before you went to kiss your husband. Your children were very used to your public displays of affection, and instead of getting ewwwww’s, you got acceptance.

Heading towards your cottage, Rook had Pierre on his shoulders, the little boy laughing as you held the hands of your little girls, who were singing a French song that their father had taught them when they were just babies. Your son was butchering many of the words, but he had the melody right if that counted for something.

Opening the front door, the girls ran in and immediately started shouting for you to sit down so you could receive your presents. You were confused at what they were saying, but you turned to see your husband smiling with that smile that managed to get you to both date, marry, and start a family with him.

You sat on the couch, and Rook placed your little boy on your lap as he, Juliette, Adeline, and Pierre held 4 roses out for you. You gasped as you took each individual flower, gathering them in a bouquet and smelling them.

“Merci, mes amours!” You exclaimed, placing kisses on each child. Before you got to Rook, however, he handed you a box, and when you looked inside, you saw mistletoe. You felt pressure being taken off your lap and it was your big man taking your little man off and putting him on the couch as he extended an arm out to you to help you up.

Accepting his hand, you were hoisted up and nearly fell, only for you to be caught and dipped down. The air in your lungs was sucked out in the passionate kiss that your husband gave to you, and when you broke apart, one sentence was said to your children.

“Go to your rooms, children~”

[theprissythumbelina]

So you want to write about horses.

Specifically, you want to write about horses in your medieval-inspired fantasy novel, rpg, or daydream fantasy. Knights in shinning armor on noble steeds, damsels in distress(or not!) on fine prancing mount, or an evil sorcerer cackling on a fierce charger above your poor tandem MCs.

Whatever it is you're imagining, a medieval horse appears. But you know nothing about horses. I can help.

(If you would like to begin with my first basic Basics post, start here)

^ When thinking knight, you're probably imagining a horse like this.

Preface: When talking about fiction, there is always a question of historical accuracy. That is wholly up to you. But you will at least, after reading this, know more of the historical fact involving horses, and certainly know about some of the more commonly-complained about fallacies involving horses in media.

Now, the above still is from the film Ladyhawke (1985), which is often credited for popularizing the Friesian breed in the United States. I can almost guarantee you have see a Friesian in a film or on TV. The recent series Shadow and Bone had a central character ride a Friesian in one episode. They epitomize the romantic nobility and grace of knights. Except they don't.

The horse you see above came into existence in 1879, primarily as a harness and agricultural use horse. Horses known as Friesian horses have existed since the 11th century, but those horses were completely different from the breed created in the 19th century. The modern Friesian is a trotting breed, made to pull carriages and look beautiful doing it. They have a long back, short neck, and due to inbreeding, a host of nasty genetic problems including dwarfism, aortic rupture, hydrocephalus, and megaesophagus.

However, breeds that trace ancestry back to beyond the middle ages do exist, and they have been breed to look much the same for generations. Introducing:

The Barb/Berber Horse

^Kinda just looks like A Horse™

The Barb comes from North Africa, and was spread into Europe through the Muslim conquest of Spain, where the breed mixed with the native Andalusian breed to create the Spanish Jennet, which is possibly the most widely successful horse breed in all of history. The Jennet is currently extinct*, but due to its durability, it was the horse used by the Spanish AND the British to invade the Americas, and descendants of the Jennet survive in local breeds from Argentina to Canada.

*a revitalization breed does exist of the same name

The Andalusian/Lusitano/Pure Raza Espanol

^The true Fabio of horses, known for thick flowing locks and sweet dispositions

Possibly the horse that most strongly resembles the ancient knighly horse, this noble creature used to be the preferred horse of film, before the Friesian rise in popularity. Horses of Spanish bloodlines are Andalusian, horses of Portuguese bloodlines are Lusitano, but the characteristics of both breeds are nearly identical. They are also known for a fancy 'high stepping' movement, in which they raise their knees higher than other breeds naturally.

The Arabian

^Note the narrow, 'dished' face and raised tail, breed characteristics

The ancient horse of the desert, made famous through books such as The Black Stallion, King of the Wind, and films such as Hildago. These horses are known for their stamina and intelligence, and were traditionally used as war horses by the desert tribes of the Arabian Peninsula. The Arabian has descendants in almost all modern breeds, as it is used to add strength and stamina to the original stock, despite being a relatively small horse. During the Napoleonic wars, this horse became the prized war horse of Europe as well, with Napoleon himself preferring to ride Arabians into battle.

The Mongolian Horse

^Thick head, thick body, this horse is made to survive winter on the steppes

Introduced to Europe from the Hunnic invasions that ended the rule of Rome, the Mongolian horse is made to survive, thrive, and run in harsh cold weather. This horse allowed Ghengis Khan and his soldiers to conqure one of the largest empires to ever exist, from Korea to Poland. This compact horse would have mixed with the native stock of Russian, Eastern European, and Germanic tribes to help create the ancient northern horses, resulting in a thicker breed of horse in the north, and a lighter breed of horse in the south of Europe. Modern-day pony breeds such as the Exmoor, Fjord, Icelandic, and other have been found to have genetic ties to the Mongolian horse.

These horses do not exactly look like the modern image of knights on massive horses, but it is useful to remember that 1. people back then were a lot smaller and 2. horses back then were a lot smaller. Of course, there were hundreds of other local breeds during the middle ages, but many have been modernized and become today's sport, work, or pleasure horses.

During the middle ages, horses were not actually defined by breed. They were defined by the work the horse was suited and trained to preform. There were five main types of medieval horses.

The Destrier

Also called The Great Horse for its size, strength, and price, this horse was the renown mount of knights and kings in battle. These horses were highly trained for battle, and could be taught to do such things as striking out at soldiers in front, kicking at soldiers from the back, and even leaping all four feet in the air to protect it's rider. They would wear the most armor, and these horses would likely be closest in appearance to the modern Andalusian.

^Ornate heavy armor on a model horse. This armor was made for a horse not much more than 15hh, what today would be a small horse.

The Courser/The Charger

A lighter horse than the destrier, the courser is also a warhorse, highly trained and well-bred, but a little less expensive. A knight might not be able to afford a destrier, especially as a minor knight, but every knight should have a courser. The Spanish Jennet is the epitome of the medieval courser, and in fact was the horse used by Richard II. According to Shakespeare, the horse's name was White Surrey, although other sources claim the horse was Roan Barbary, and was a Barb or Berber horse*.

*Bought from Spain and likely a cross of Spanish and African blood, so a Jennet. But Jennet was also a classification of a horse type in those days, so, sources are muddled.

The Rouncey

The 'average' horse of the time, this horse was used mainly for riding, but could sometimes be ridden into battle if trained properly, and were the preferred horse for lower-class fighters such as archers or men-at-arms. As it described a riding horse, these horses came in all shapes and sizes, from all lineages, and in all colors. In peacetime they could be used to draw carriages or work fields. A proud and expensive destrier would never be caught pulling a plow.

The Palfrey

A highly-bred, highly trained horse, this horse is a high quality riding horse known for a specific gait, called an ambling gait. This horse had a special pattern of moving its feet that gave the rider a considerably more comfortable ride than the traditional 4 gaited horse. After the middle ages, these horses almost disappeared, only to be recovered in the Americas in the form of 'gaited' horses such as the Paso Fino, the Rocky Mountain Horse, the Missouri Foxtrotter, and the Tennessee Walking Horse. The Icelandic horse has also retained the special Tölt gait that may* be the exact gait of medieval ambling horses.

*may, I am not a gaited horse expert.

The Packhorse

This describes any kind of horse, usually a rouncey, that is used not for riding but to carry supplies. Packhorses could also be mules, donkeys, and ponies, so long as they could carry weight for long miles. These were supply horses, carrying food, weapons, tents, whatever else may be needed.

Knights, Horses, and the Battlefield

^ What an incredible creature of power and nobility. The man is fine too, I guess.

Now, if you have seen the above scene, you have probably seen The Hollow Crown, a historical drama with a few late Medieval battle scenes. In these scenes, knight clashes against knight in a furious charge, leading to pitched battles on horseback. I'm not going to say that never happened, but by and large cavalry was directed against infantry, not other cavalry, or used to conduct maneuvers requiring speed and surprise, such as a charge, a circling maneuver, a bluff retreat and most importantly, to chase down routing enemy soldiers. A knight on horseback was most effective in close quarters against unmounted and surprised soldiers. Lances were the primary weapon, allowing a mounted warrior length to spear and batter down at enemies, and a sword was secondary, as it had a shorter length, and would be used if a mounted warrior was surrounded by infantry or in battle against another knight. Throughout the medieval period, horses sometimes were removed from the fight all together due to unfavorable land, and kept in reserve to either help the army flee or to chase down the fleeing enemy.

Hungry for more?

There are many sources out there to learn more about the medieval period and knights in particular. I would highly recommend that you not look at Medieval Times sources, if only because better sources are out there. I enjoy the videos produce by Jason Kingsley CBE (Yes, that Jason Kingsley CBE) on his Modern History TV YouTube Channel, and find them to be accurate as far as I'm aware.

^ Jason Kingsley and his horse Warlord, in costume. I've sent marriage proposals but I've not yet received a reply.

That's all for this post. I'll have more when I feel like it, and send me questions if you want to know more about specific things or need a writing question answered

Reblogs welcome and encouraged

@jacqueswriteblrlibrary for wider reach

[liadanars]

Here’s an odd post but I am a language student and Irish so here’s what I’d name ER characters with respect to the game’s hefty Celtic inspiration in world & design. (With my notes and rambling.)

"Margit" - "Cairbre" (Chariot Rider - Irish)

> Not for the meaning, but this was an incredibly common name in medieval Ireland. Given Morgott's incredible skill in coming up with an alias (Morgott/Margit??,) I thought it would be appropriate for him to say the equivalent of "er... John."

Morgott - Aimhirghin (Born of Song - Irish)

Mohg - Ainbheartach (Roughly ‘Evil Deed’ - Irish)

> I wanted Morgott & Mohg's names to still be 'matching,' but to have opposite meanings. Aimhirghin, in the more literal sense, translates to 'wonderous birth,' whereas Ainbheartach is more along the lines of "ill-doer" in a literal translation, although it doesn't exactly pan out to English.

Malenia - Lasairíonait (Pure flame - Irish)

Miquella - Laoidheach (Poetic - Irish)

> Giving Miquella a Christian name of Spanish origin reads so badly to me (I don't really care for scrutinizing if it's feminine or masculine.) I also do NOT believe in naming all of them with the initials of George R. R. Martin. Malenia's name is slightly ironic given her affliction / rot.

Godwyn - Heulyn (Ray of Sun - Welsh)

Godrick - Sulwyn (Fair-Sun - Welsh)

Godfrey - Sulemyr (Sun-King - Welsh)

> I really sincerely hated God/frey/wyn/rick. I understand that it's a 'tradition' of the Golden Lineage, but I think it would've been more appropriate to instead have the prefix 'Sul' passed down (Sun) especially given the conflict between the Golden Order and the Carians who are heavily associated with the moon.

Rykard - Cno (Devourer - Welsh)

Radhan - Cynfarch (Chief, ‘Horse’ - Welsh)

Ranni - Rhiannon (Great Queen - Welsh)

Rennala - Gwlithen (Dewdrop - Welsh)

> The name Rhiannon is derived from a goddess / figure in Welsh mythology who is associated with the moon, and was known in Welsh folklore for being enticing yet unreachable, which could be associated with Ranni's Age of Stars ending (where she leaves the world without gods for 1000 years.) Rykard's is very on-the-nose, as is Radahn's.

Radagon - Ruaidhrí (Red-haired king - Irish)

Marika - Gwawrwen (Radiant Day - Welsh)

>These are VERY self-explanatory, but I had also considered the name Tuathlaith, or "the people's ruler" for Marika.

[blue2black]

COD incorrect quotes, but their from TikToks I saw and are now buried somewhere deep in my likes:

PART 2

—————————

*in an Uber pt 3*

Soap: Is it that big of a deal?

Gaz: YES!

Soap: It’s just two people who love each other.

Soap: “Love Is Love”, that’s what the gay people say.

Gaz: Well, fuck them homosexuals because love and love is not the same thing in this situation.

—————————

Makarov, holding out a gun: Put your hands up!

Price: No.

Makarov: …what?

Price: I said no.

Makarov: Why not?

Price: I don’t want to. 😒

Makarov: But I’ve got a gun.

Price: I don’t care. 🤷🏻‍♂️

Makarov: But…doesn’t make any sense! (Ō👄Ō)

Price: Too bad!

—————————

Ghost, holding in his laughter: Johnny, I have something really important to tell you…

Soap, looking up from his sketch book: What’s up, love?

Ghost, smiling: I wanna get a job cleaning mirrors…

Soap: … *realizes this is a dad joke*

Ghost, still holding a laugh: It’s something I can really-

Soap, getting up and walking away: NO.

Ghost: -can really SEE myself doing… *breaks off into wheezing laughter*

—————————

*Soap as soon as Price takes his eyes off of him*

Soap: Eureka! That’s it! 😃

Soap: I’ll run away! 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

—————————

Gaz: We're an interracial couple; I let him drive just in case we get pulled over.

Alex: We're an interracial couple; everybody thinks his credit score is good 'cause of me.

Gaz: We're an interracial couple; I can wear bonnets and he can't, 'cause he'll get cancelled.

Alex: We're an interracial couple; every time we go out to eat the old people stare at us.

Gaz: We're an interracial couple; every time you see me take a family picture, people scream "get out".

Alex: We're an interracial couple; every night he leaves the stove light on, and I think it's raising our electricity bill.

Gaz: We're an interracial couple; I can say certain words that he can't, like: NI-

—————————

Price: Are you stuck?

Gaz, hanging from a bloody rope once again: ...I AM. 😭

—————————

Ghost: What the hell were you thinking?!

Soap: You told me not to think!

Ghost: … (Ô_Ô)

Soap: … (Û~Û)💅🏻

Ghost: … (Ō_Ō) *this bitch…*

—————————

(Alejandro and Rudy making fun of Graves)

Rudy, laughing: PARECE ZORRILLO— 🤣

*Alejandro and Rudy fall on the ground laughing their asses off*

—————————

Laswell: Wow, a surprisingly peaceful, domestic moment.

Laswell: When will it be ruined?

Soap, Gaz, Price, Ghost: LASWELL!! 😫😫😫😫

Laswell: There it is! -_-💢

—————————

Laswell, who’s been hearing them flirt over coms for 50 minutes: Why don’t you two cut the horse shit, and get to the part where you admit you have sexual feelings for one another.

Ghost and Soap: WOAH-!

—————————

(Laswell asking why they all joined the army)

Ghost: NO- *buries face into a pillow*

Laswell: Ghost, why’d you join the army? 😆

Ghost, whining into the pillow: I don’t know… 😭

—

Laswell: Soap, why’d you join the army?

Soap: So I can fire guns! 😃

—

Laswell: Why’d you join the army?

Gaz: … 😐

Gaz: I’ll answer that question with another question…

Gaz: Why the fuck did think this was a good idea? 🥲

—

Laswell: Why’d you join the army, John?

Price: Because I had nothing better to do.

—

Laswell: Why’d you join the army?

Rudy: …’cause I’m a fucking idiot. 😐 *spanish rage*

—

Laswell: Why’d you join the army?

Alejandro: Why’d I join the army?

Alejandro: For money.

Laswell: What money? 🤨

—

Laswell: Why’d you join the army?

Alex: To find a battle boo. 😂

Laswell: 😂

—

Laswell: Farah, why’d you-

Farah: Wait- *takes off headphones*

Farah: Okay, what?

Laswell, chuckling: Why’d you join the army?

Farah: Shit…

Farah: I don’t know my guy.

Laswell: Cream? 🙂

Farah: Cream. 😌

—————————

Ghost, smiling: Knock knock.

Soap, already so over it: Who’s there? 😒

Ghost: I eat mop.

Soap: I eat mop who?-

Soap: Ugh, Simon! *walking away*

*Ghost wheezes in pure bliss*

—————————

*in an Uber pt 4*

Gaz: I’m not open to this. At all.

Soap: Why you not open—GET open to it.

Gaz: The only thing that was open here was..your mom’s damn legs.

Gaz: And she should’ve kept them closed for her brother.

Soap: 😧

—————————

Shepherd: Here we go…

Shepherd: 15 years and 14 hours later…

Shepherd: Best brisket in Texas.

Graves, who purposely gave Shepherd the wrong recipe: 😏 (GRAVES, YOU EVIL BI-)

—————————

Farah: How did you know that you always wanted to be a professional Drug Cartel Leader?

Valeria: I just wanted to be a star in any way I got it.

Valeria: I said if I didn't become a star by thirty-five I was just gonna become a serial killer.

Farah: ...well, girl, how old are you? I'm getting nervous... 😨

—————————

Gaz: Hi! I'm the witch that won't turn you into a frog because amphibians are people too!

Gaz: Kyle Garrick! *pulls out a frog and lets it hop away*

Ghost: ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴅɪᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ.

Gaz: ...

Ghost: I'm Simon.

[thethirdromana]

Van Helsing's misinformation

I took a look at some of the claims Van Helsing makes in his "immortal parrots" speech on the 26th of September.

Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one hundred and sixty-nine...

The oldest authenticated age that anyone has ever reached is 122 years (Jeanne Louise Calment, 1875-1997). Thomas Parr ('Old Parr') allegedly lived from 1483 to 1635 (which is 152 years, not 169) but the 1895 Dictionary of National Biography, which has an entry for Parr, is very sceptical about his claim, noting that his exact age was "attested by village gossip alone."

Here's Old Parr, painted by an unknown artist:

Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others?

Comparative anatomy is a perfectly reasonable field, but coupled with "the qualities of brutes" and it being the 1890s, I strongly suspect this is some racist physiognomy bullshit (see p550 here for an example of how this looked in contemporary writing, if you must).

Can you tell me why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps?

This one is delightfully weird. It seems to be a telephone-game version of this story, printed in a variety of magazines and miscellanies (e.g.) since 1821:

The sexton of the church of St Eustace, at Paris, amazed to find frequently a particular lamp extinct early, and yet the oil consumed oil, sat up several nights to perceive the cause. At length he discovered that a spider of surprising size came down the cord to drink the oil. A still more extraordinary instance of the same kind occurred during the year 1751, in the Cathedral of Milan. A vast spider was observed there, which fed on the oil of the lamps... It weighed four pounds, and was sent to the Emperor of Austria, and is now in the Imperial Museum at Vienna.

Here's a photo of St Eustache:

In 1894 the story was reprinted in Notes and Queries, with the question: "Are the statements therein pure fiction? If not, can any one tell me how much we may safely believe? A spider weighing four pounds [1.8kg] is indeed a heavy tax on the reader's credulity."

In reality, the largest spider in the world is the Goliath birdeater, which weighs 175g.

Can you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins...

Vampire bats are real, and live in parts of South and Central America. The prey of the common vampire bat can include cattle (source). The quantity of blood that they drink is small - in the region of 100g, or about a fifth of a typical blood donation. Vampire bat predation can result in the death of much larger animals, but from infection, not draining them dry.

Here's a common vampire bat:

... how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang on the trees all day, and those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them, and then—and then in the morning are found dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?

From Wikipedia:

West Sea or Western Sea may refer to:

Atlantic Ocean

Pacific Ocean

Indian Ocean

Mediterranean Sea...

So that's not the most helpful starting point. I don't know which bats these are supposed to be, though hanging in trees like giant nuts makes them sound like fruit bats. In Van Helsing's defence, bats do carry a lot of viruses.

Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations of men...

Lovely to reach something that's just straight-up true. The current oldest living land animal is Jonathan, a 190+-year-old Seychelles giant tortoise.

... why the elephant goes on and on till he have seen dynasties...

Asian elephants live to be 50 or so; African elephants, 60-70 years. Weirdly, it seems to have been widely believed in the 1890s that elephants lived for a century; e.g. that's cited as fact in the 1894 Encyclopaedia Britannica. Either way, "dynasties" feels like an exaggeration.

... why the parrot never die only of bite of cat or dog or other complaint?

I've tried but I can't find where Bram Stoker got this one from. Maybe he made it up. The English Illustrated Magazine, 1897, contains an article complaining about how easily grey parrots die after being imported and sold as pets.

Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that there are some few who live on always if they be permit; that there are men and women who cannot die?

I've also got no idea what's going on with this one. I can't figure out how to look into it without coming up with lots of 1890s Christian literature on the immortal soul, which is not what Van Helsing is getting at.

We all know—because science has vouched for the fact—that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of the world.

This was a wildly popular myth in Victorian times (see this article for more details). An article in The Gentleman's Magazine, 1877, entitled 'Some Facts and Fictions of Zoology' (reprinted in several other places) went into the question in more detail, and concluded:

These tales are, in short, as devoid of actual foundation as are the modern beliefs in the venomous properties of the toad, or the ancient beliefs in the occult and mystic powers of various parts of its frame when used in incantations.

Here's a toad:

Can you tell me how the Indian fakir can make himself to die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as before?

This seems to have been widely believed in the late 19th century - e.g. this 1897 book references "two undoubted cases... one of whom had remained alive under the ground for six weeks, the other for ten days". This 1880 magazine says that it "will appear incredible" but relays the story of a fakir "buried alive for forty days, then disentombed and resuscitated" as fact.

The longest verified case of someone surviving without drinking water is Andreas Mihavecz, an 18-year-old bricklayer who was mistakenly locked up by police for 18 days. Even then, he drank condensed water from the walls, and was very close to death when he was found.

So in summary:

Old Parr: false

Physiognomy: false

Enormous oil-drinking spider: false

Vampire bats: partially true

Bats killing sailors: partially true

Long-lived tortoises: TRUE

Long-lived elephants: false

Immortal parrots: false

Belief in immortality: ???

Imprisoned toads: false

Buried fakirs: false

I guess there are some disadvantages to having an "absolutely open mind."

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓐𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐎 .ᐟ

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ┆ 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ charro!miguel 𝓍 fem!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  the o’hara brothers do their usual practice session. after they finished, the eldest o’hara stumbles upon a familiar face; the daughter of a friend.

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  fluff, swearing, spanish terms, gabriel teasing miguel, family dynamics

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ next chapter ꒱

it’s another humid day. the radiant sun shines brightly, warming up the the rich soil in the ground. the sky is blue as ever and bare, no clouds in sight. flowers blooming beautifully, plants beaming in vibrant green, and crops growing graciously. people out visiting markets, picking and purchasing fresh goods to have at their tables. farmers out on the fields, growing and harvesting crops. gardeners planting new plants and collecting vegetables.

although, it’s also another day of charrería practice. charrería is a famous sport, or, the sport of the county. the two best charros are the o’hara brothers, miguel and gabriel. those two belong to the most famous family of the village. besides the sons’ sportsmanship, the o’haras are known for throwing extravagant fiestas and have multiple connections with local businesses. they aren’t super wealthy or any of the sort, just well known due to their history.

the o’hara brothers; two respectful yet extremely attractive men. the youngest, gabriel, is a complete sweetheart with a compassionate heart. the eldest, miguel, is an utter womanizer with that devilish handsome face of his and the god-like sculpture of a body that he possesses. they are constantly the talk of the streets, all women drool for them.

“¿un putaso, hermanito?” miguel teases with a mischievous smirk on his lips, arms crossed over his broad chest in pure amusement.

gabriel groans in frustration and embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head. that practice session didn’t go as smoothly. “cállate, help me up.”

the older o’hara lowly chuckles, extending out his hand for his brother to take.

grabbing his hand, gabriel lifts up from the dirt ground with a small groan. he pads himself down, getting rid of the debris from the fall.

“go take a shower. maybe your brain will work properly afterwards.” miguel teases again.

“it was just a slip up.” gabriel hissed, shooting a light glare at him. “i’ll be fine, mamón.”

miguel lets out a snort of amusement, slightly shaking his head. “whatever you say, hermanito.”

after rounding up their horses and putting back their gear, the o’hara brothers exit the ranch and walk back towards their home. across is the garden where groups of women are picking fresh fruits and vegetables. children running around and playing with each other. squeals and laughter echos the area.

one of the women is the daughter of a family friend of the o’haras. crouching on the ground, you graciously pick fresh vegetables and place them in the basket. you’re wearing your favorite white dress since it’s another humid day. a nice gentle breeze passes, flowing through your hair.

while heading back to home, miguel glances at the garden before his eyes land on you. his eyes widen in pure delight, slowing down in his tracks. fully coming to a halt, he admires you from afar, how peaceful yet beautiful you look while collecting fresh goods from the garden. miguel has always had this deep affection for you since both of your families have been friends for quite some time. there weren’t many opportunities to talk to you since he’s always busy with charrería or other personal shenanigans. despite all the girls that chase after him, miguel always chose you; the woman of his dreams.

as you pick the last tomato from the garden and place in the basket, you rise up and gently pat down your dress to rid any dirt and fix any creases. luckily, it’s just the hem of your dress that has tiny bits of dirt so it’s not too bad. your white heels obviously got some dirt but you don’t mind, you live where dirt is everywhere so it doesn’t matter honestly.

just as you’re about to leave, your mom approaches you. she carries a basket as well, filled with types of vegetables. “how did it go, mija?”

“bien. i managed to get lots of tomatoes and carrots this time.” you softly smile.

“oh qué bueno, mija! dinner will be extra good this week.” she offers a wink and a smile.

as you both start walking, miguel still watches from afar completely lost in trance. ay dios mío, you look like an angel in that beautiful white dress. at one point, a nice strong breeze passes by which makes your dress flow, revealing your legs. oh he felt his knees almost gave out, he wouldn’t mind honestly.

miguel suddenly snaps out of trance when he feels a slap on his shoulder.

“ay, stop gawking and let’s go.” gabriel teases with a smug grin, now he’s the one teasing this time.

the older o’hara lets out a scoff of annoyance, rolling his eyes. “cállate.” he hissed back.

“well, if you stop being a pinche chillón, go talk to her.” the younger o’hara suggests, gesturing at you as they both start heading toward their home.

miguel shoots him a death glare before suddenly you and your mom appear right in front of them. his pupils dilate drastically, lips slightly apart at the sudden sight of you. ay dios mío, you look even more beautiful up close. he was definitely surprised by your sudden appearance, flabbergasted.

“hola, mijos. ¿comó te fue?” your mom greets them a gentle smile.

“muy bien, señora [l/n]. gracias.” gabriel said, returning the same smile with a small nod, hands behind his back like a proper gentleman.

a bright smile forms on her face. “¡qué bueno! we can’t wait for the show y la fiesta.”

“igualmente, señora.” gabriel replies kindly.

you glance between the two handsome men before looking away bashfully after making eye contact with miguel, trying to conceal the hints of pink staining your cheeks. your heart flutters every time you encounter him. he is the handsomest man ever, obviously you have a crush on him just like any other girl in the village. ever since both of your families became close, you’ve always liked him.

miguel remains standing there like an idiot, solely focused on you while everything else is a blur. a beautiful angel in a garden. he tries his best to appear normal, especially in front of your mom.

“well, see you boys tomorrow. dígale a tú mamá i said hi for me, por favor.” your mom offers a smile before gently tagging your sleeve to move.

“of course, adiós señoras.” gabriel said, smiling.

you shyly smile at both of them before walking away with your mom back home.

miguel’s eyes follow your figure in pure adoration, watching how your dress sways so delicately with each step you take. the brightness of the sun making your gorgeous hair shiny and it bounces as you walk.

gabriel noticed, a little smirk forming on his lips. he playfully nudged his shoulder again. “let’s go.”

for once, he listens to his little brother. once you were no longer in his sight, miguel follows his brother back to their home and get cleaned up.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

after cleaning himself up, miguel heads back to his room. just as he approached the doorframe, gabriel strolls up beside him with a smug smirk on his face, drying his hair with a towel.

“you almost pissed your pants in front of her.” he teased, drying the last bit of hair with the towel.

miguel shots him a glare, aggressively nudging his shoulder. “cállate. i did not, cabrón.” he walks past his brother with a frown illustrated on his face, entering his room with aggressive stomps.

the younger o’hara chuckles mischievously as he follows his brother. “you like her a lot, tonto.” he leans against for the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “pero i can understand why, es muy bontia.” that comment earned him a light glare but also a chuckle from miguel since he agrees with him. “she likes you too, she was nervous around you.”

miguel’s brows raised in surprise, eyes lighting up. “en serio? no mames güey.” he didn’t notice nor believed it gabriel. he was too fixated on your angelic presence that he didn’t notice your expressions, especially towards him.

a scoff escapes his lips, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “sí, güey. she couldn’t afford to look at you without blushing, she’s shy around you.”

miguel remains silent, processing what his brother told him. do you truly feel the same way as he does with you? oh that would be a dream come true. since the moment he first captured you with his eyes, one day when his mother invited your family over to one of the gatherings held at their home, a spark ignited within him. it was love at first sight. his heart has been never beaten so rapidly prior to your existence. miguel swore he laid eyes on an angel; a pearl hidden inside a clam not dared to be touched. he had never felt this way about someone before. sure, he had encountered several ladies, showing off his charms but none of them captured his attention like you.

you are a rare jewel, hidden in the back of a cave or hasn’t been discovered yet. but now you have, discovered by him. a precious jewel so fragile yet beautiful. your beauty captivates him, the most beautiful soul he has ever seen. he wishes to tell you these things. hopefully one day, when he doesn’t have charrería practice or other shenanigans, he’ll finally have the chance to talk to you.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

you and your mom return to your home, which is a few miles from the o’hara ranch. the both of you enter the kitchen and set down the baskets of vegetables on the table. after washing your hands, you start taking out the vegetables from the basket and place them in several bowls.

“miguel was admiring you the entire time.” your mom whispers with a little smile, separating the carrots and corn as she places them in separate bowls.

you whip your head at her, brows raised in shock. “what? he was?” you sound genuinely surprised.

she lets out a soft chuckle. “claro que sí, mija. he was looking at you like he was in love.”

your heart skips a beat. in love? miguel in love with you? that seems impossible, only a dream. oh how you wish for it to be true. of course other girls wish that for themselves too, making you doubt the possibility. you don’t want to get your hopes up.

“ay mamá, he wasn’t.” you argue with a soft chuckle, brushing away the silly idea.

“that look in his eyes says otherwise.” your mom said, glancing at you with a smile before continuing to sort out all of the vegetables.

well—maybe she wasn’t completely lying. you did feel his gaze on you during the conversation, making your feel flustered and a bit nervous. it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with him since he’s literally so handsome. one look into his eyes, staring back into yours, and your cheeks instantly turn pink.

“those boys are such gentlemen. especially gabriel, un bien chico.” she comments.

you snap out of your thoughts, blinking a few times. it’s true, gabriel is such a kind man but you favor miguel more. don’t be mistaken, gabriel is a kindhearted and handsome man. both brothers are but miguel captures your heart in a race.

you let out a soft hum of agreement, placing the tomatoes into a bowl.

as you both finish sorting the vegetables, your dad and your older brother, carlos, return after spending the entire day working at the ranch.

“hola, amores.” your mom greets them with smile.

your dad approaches your mom, gently placing a kiss the lips as a hello before heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“oooo what’s for dinner?” carlos asks, strolling up beside you as he looks at the bowls of vegetables on the table. this dude loves food.

“no sé pero i was thinking of green pazole.” your mom answers as she puts away some of the bowls on the kitchen counter.

carlos gasps in excitement. “yes! perfecto.”

you snort at his enthusiasm, how silly yet hilarious how he gets excited about food but is extra when it comes to pazole. but is he wrong, tho? it’s delicious.

after making the delicious pazole and having dinner, you end the day by hoping into bed. after taking a refreshing shower and changing into your nightgown, you rest comfortably in your bed.

while trying to fall asleep, your mind wonders to your mom’s words about miguel earlier. it’s highly doubtful that he loves you or even considers seeing you in that manner. he probably has someone else in mind. he was just reflecting his kind nature.

but deep down inside, you wish for it to be true.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Camilip Week 2023 - Day 1 (Lovers / Animals) The Fuzzy Foal

DAY 1 OF CAMILIP WEEK LET'S GO!!!

Camila watched her favorite nature documentaries in her living room on the couch with a box of tissues nearby when she heard a small knock on the front door.

When she gets up to open it, she sees the love of her life standing on the other side with a sweet smile on his face.

Upon returning his smile, she leans forward and gently pecks her partner's lips.

"Hola, mi amor," Camila happily greets him in Spanish, her tone laced with love as she continues.

"Welcome home. I'm so glad you're here. How was your day today?" She asked sweetly.

"It was good," Beardo Philip responds to his beloved with affection. "And guess what? I brought home a surprise for you," he told her with a lighthearted hum.

A surprise?

Camila's eyes lit up with pure excitement at that statement.

"You did? Ooo, how exciting!" She squealed in delight while clapping her hands.

"You know how much I love surprises! Where is it?" She quickly looks left and right before stopping. "Oh, sorry, should I close my eyes first?"

Philip nods and Camila let's out a giggle before doing so.

"I can't wait to see what it is," Camila states with another anticipated giggle before Philip takes a small step to his right, revealing a tiny foal that was calmly standing behind him.

The baby horse had a fuzzy coat that was light brown and white, with extremely long legs and a small build.

A short, but cute, tail and mane were also present.

The foal was truly an adorable and gentle creature.

When the small horse looked at Philip, he smiled softly at it before giving the baby a gentle nod.

"Don't worry, she's very kind and safe," He whispered softly in reassurance.

Taking that into account, the foal decides to walk over to Camila and stand beside her.

"Okay, my love, you can open your eyes now," Philip said with a smile.

Brown eyes soon began to reopen as they spot a little horse.

It was so cute!

Camila immediately let out a soft gasp as the foal used its nose to give her side a small nudge.

"Aww!" She gushes, gently patting the horse's head with her hand.

The foal seems to be quite fond of Camila's touch as it lets out a quiet neigh and swings its tail freely.

"Aye que lindo!" Camila beams before running her hand down the horse's mane.

"You are such a little angel!" She told the foal, carefully stroking its neck. "Yes you are, yes you are!" Camila lovingly coos, pressing their foreheads together.

As a veterinarian, she loved all animals, even those she didn't specialize in caring for.

Seeing Camila bond with the baby horse brought a smile to Philip's face.

...

Inside, the couch is being occupied by Philip, Camila, and the baby foal while they watch nature documentaries about horses.

Camila is happily cuddled up to Philip, and the foal is happily cuddled up to Camila.

[brokehorrorfan]

Tombs of the Blind Dead will be released on Blu-ray on October 24 via Synapse Films. Other than the packaging, CD, and booklet, its identical to last year's Steelbook edition.

Also known as The Night of the Blind Terror, the 1972 Spanish-Portuguese horror film is written and directed by Amando de Ossorio. Lone Fleming, César Burner, María Elena Arpón, José Thelman star.

Tombs of the Blind Dead has been newly restored in 2K from the original uncut camera negative. It includes the original Spanish version, an English/Spanish hybrid soundtrack, and the re-edited US theatrical cut, each with lossless PCM 2.0 mono audio.

Special features for the two-disc set are detailed below.

Disc 1: Blu-ray:

Original Spanish-language and English/Spanish hybrid soundtrack versions

Audio commentary by actress Lone Fleming

Audio commentary by film historian Troy Howarth

Audio commentary by the NaschyCast’s Rod Barnett & Troy Guinn

Marauders from the Mediterranean – Feature-length documentary on Spanish zombie cinema with Night of the Living Dead writer John Russo, The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue director Jorge Grau, actors Lone Fleming, Helga Liné, Manuel de Blas, Antonio Mayans, and Jack Taylor, Paul Naschy’s son Sergio Molina, Sitges Film Festival deputy director Mike Hostench, and film historians/academics John Martin, Calum Waddell, Kim Newman, and Steve Jones

Revenge of Planet Ape alternate U.S. opening sequence

Awakening of Spanish Horror Cinema featurette

“Templar’s Tears” music video by Salem’s Pop

Original theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Disc 2: Blu-ray:

US theatrical cut

Tombs of the Blind Dead begins with a trio of friends getting together for a camping trip that quickly turns into bloodcurdling horror as a legion of long-dead Knights Templar rise from their graves in search of human flesh! When the Templars were originally executed for their cannibalistic rituals, they were hanged outside to die as crows pecked out their eyes. Now, armed with ancient swords and riding their skeletal undead horses into the night looking for prey, these mummified creatures cannot see… they hunt purely by sound alone.

Pre-order Tombs of the Blind Dead.

[sukkanen]

I'm none too familiar with horse breeds aside from what little media and video games (red dead redemption 2) I played but I wanted to ask: What're your favorite kind of horses? I'm a fan of Draft-esque horses. Huge, big hooves, built like tree trunks but look fantastic to give pets to.

oOOOHHH what a wonderful question!!

first off i do love draft horses a lot!! especially the ones with feathered heels (THE FLUFFY STUFF ON THEIR FEET) one of my therapy horses was a tinker horse very much like this:

and she was absolutely wonderful to work with.. though the feathers actually a lot of work to keep clean and healthy, lots of scrubbing and trimming so the horse doesn't end up stepping on them (which feels bad)

anyway ANYWAY some of my favorite breeds (in no order because it really depends on the day and hour of the day what i love the most, and i love them all equally anyway, so)

Friesian Horse

they are *gorgeous* and in my opinion, like the perfect balance between a cold-blood horse and a warmblood one! the strength of a draft horse and the elegance of a lighter, warmblood horse!! they look like an actual dream...

Norwegian Fjord Horse

small, stocky, beautiful and quirky.. one of the oldest horse breeds in the world!! their markings are called primitive markings (dun coloring, dorsal stripe, two-toned mane and tail) and it's really striking to see in real life, too! also i just like their temperament a lot.. they're very pony-like in their stubbornness..!

Pura Raza Española

.. also called the andalusian horse, or pure spanish horse! i have a very personal reason for loving these horses (and especially this coloring, the gray dapple!) cause when i was a kid, i was on a summer camp where my.. uh.. "assigned horse" to take care of was a gorgeous PRE horse, called Navarro! he was pretty temperamental, but very gentle with me. i wasn't allowed to ride him because of his temperament, but just being with him every day was the best ;w; but aside from that, they're just... stunning to see! they move like light on clouds, they're gorgeous, and seeing them do passage is magical!! i went weekly to a stable with multiple PRE horses, and not only are they beautiful, they're also very nice to interact with. i've only had positive experiences with them..!!

Arabian Horse

one of the oldest horse breeds, they're beautiful! smart! gorgeous! they're like, if elves were horses?? or FAIRIES... fairy horses.. literal fantasy magic horse in the flesh!! and i love the way they carry their tails like a flag!!! absolutely legendary horses.

honorary mention:

Suomenhevonen (The Finnhorse)

i can't not include the finnhorse. they feel like home.. they are home... i love em...

but in the end. All horses are angels. And i love them all. so much. i lvoe thmgb.........

[thetudorslovers]

Tudor- Brandon branch

"Mary visited London for the last time to celebrate the wedding of her eldest daughter, Lady Frances Brandon to Henry Grey, Marquess of Dorset, who descended from Thomas Grey, the elder son of Elizabeth Woodville (Queen of Edward IV) by her first marriage to Sir John Grey. Frances and Henry were to become the parents of the nine-day queen of England, the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey, who was executed on the orders of Queen Mary I. Recent research suggests that Lady Jane, the eldest, was not born at Bradgate but at the Dorsets’ London residence, on a date somewhat earlier than the usually suggested date of October 1537. The few verifiable contemporary comments on her appearance note that she was slight, and pleasant-looking. The prevailing perception was certainly that she was formidably intelligent and well-educated. The Dorsets appear to have been determined that their girls should develop practical and intellectual skills.

That Jane was also spirited and had a mind of her own even at a young age is evident from the correspondence of her learned tutor, John Aylmer, of whom she spoke fondly, with the Swiss reformer Henry Bullinger, who had sent to Jane and her father ‘a little volume of pure and unsophisticated religion’, with a dedication. Aylmer wrote to Bullinger that young people’s minds needed the counsel of older people and serious influences, thanking Bullinger for his contribution to Jane’s ‘improvement’. Tellingly, he employed the metaphor of ‘bridles for restive horses’.

Katherine, the Dorsets’ second daughter, traditionally considered the beauty of the family, is shown in the miniatures by the Flemish-bornminiaturist to the English court, Levina Teerlinc, as a fair-complexioned, golden-haired young woman, almost the stereotypical English rose. The third daughter, although uncharitably depicted as ‘dwarfish in stature’ – Lady Mary was only four feet in height – was disparagingly described by the Spanish Ambassador Guzman da Silva, writing to King Philip, as ‘little, crook-backed, deformed, and very ugly’, freckled and red-haired, like her sisters. Mary was undoubtedly intelligent, yet her career followed the fateful pattern set by others in her family. She not only fell in love but was determined to marry her beloved, despite the awful example of the retribution which befell her sister Katherine.

After the failure of the Lady Jane Grey plot, it became clear that the Suffolk claims were doomed to failure. It was even questionable whether Henry VIII had had the right to bequeath the crown as he pleased, albeit with the authorisation of Parliament. Moreover, the Will had not been signed by his own hand, as required by statute, but merely by dry stamp. There was much quibbling over the phrase ‘and if it so happen that the said Lady Eleanor die without issue, then we will that the said Imperial Crown shall come to our next rightful heirs,’ not ‘right heirs’, as stated in the first Act of Succession. Under Elizabeth, the legality of Mary Rose’s marriage to Brandon and hence the legitimacy of their children was thrown into question. With each succeeding generation, their connection with the throne grew increasingly remote."

Source: The Tudor Rose: Princess Mary, Henry VIII's Sister by Kewley Draskau Jennifer

[justaferalcrow]

Merlin (bbc) Characters As Things My Friends And I Have Said

Gwaine: I actually almost set something on fire this morning 😎 Percival: Something as in himself. Arthur: I think you just killed the rest of the braincells I had for today. Gwaine: You're only willing to jump off a cliff if you die in the process?? Elyan: Sure, it'll end before I know it. Gwaine: Change of plans, we're bungee jumping. You bring the cords I bring the snacks. Merlin: WHAT KIND OF SOCIOPATH JUST DRINKS BEAN SOUP??? Arthur: I need one of two things right now, eight hours of sleep or an ungodly amount of caffeine. Since the sleep isn’t going to happen, I better go search for some coffee. Gwaine: So now you're gonna kill me for the aesthetic? Leon: Bank tellers do voodoo? Percival: 'Cause who needs a spine, right? Gwaine: YEET THE CHILD Gwaine: I'd be willing to die if it meant someone would name a dog after me. Merlin: Steal the doggo. Arthur: How do you expect a horse to be a politician? Merlin: Idk what to eat. Gaius: I'd suggest food. Gwaine: Kill the Spanish with a sickle. Percival: The language, not the people, don't worry. We're not racist. Merlin: Coffee shouldn't be defiled by the evil that is milk and sugar. It should be pure. Stimulating. A slap in the face to wake you up. Bitter to sustain you. It shouldn't be a pleasure. It should be a privilege. Arthur: IT'S GARLANDS YOU ABSOLUTE BABBLING FOOL! Merlin: NO, IT'S BUNTING, EVERYONE SHOULD CALL THEM BUNTING! Gwaine: NO, IT'S FLAG THINGIES! Percival: GUYS, THEY'RE TRIANGLES! Gwaine: gasp You're right though. Merlin: Another one of my friends wants me to kidnap her, we have a whole trip planned. Gwen: Milk is an ingredient, not a beverage.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

What does mother's horse look like ?

Did she adopt him/or her(?) When he was a pony ? Does she like,have a special bond with it?

Hello!

I think I was just writing about this in game but I don't mind saying this a little early, Sombra is a girl and an all black Andalusian (aka Pure Spanish Horse/PRE).

June found her malnourished and sick on a ranch in Castellio, Sombras mother rejected her and refused to let Sombra nurse from her. The ranch owner tried bottle feeding Sombra with goat milk but Sombra still got sick so the rancher was just going to put her down. June intervened and properly took care of Sombra for months, eventually curing her and letting her grow into a beautiful mare.

Sombra is very attached to June and happily follows her on her trips, pulling the cart with minimal complaint. June prioritizes feeding sombra very good horse feed, and looking for good spots to stable her overnights. It's why she paid the Castellio man so well for taking such good care of sombra.

Thanks for your ask!

[aqua2fana]

Homestuck race/ethnicity nationality headcanons

Since the beta/alpha kids are like pure white in the comics my brain immediately envisioned them as white and unfortunately it’s still the first place my mind goes but I do like to think most of them aren’t totally white

The trolls are based mostly on canon references, vibes, their lands in sburb, and their dancestors

John and Jane: white | polish/dutch | american (washington)

They’re white and nerdy sorry

Rose and Roxy: white/middle eastern | french/egyptian | american (new york)

I’m all for french lalondes but I also remembered Roxy’s planet had pyramids and decided they were Egyptian too

Dave and Dirk: white/east asian | spanish/japanese | american (texas)

The striders live in Texas so they’re most likely Spanish descent but they also reference Japanese culture so often that I just had to include it

Jade and Jake: white/pacific islander | english/tongan | american (phoenix islands)

The Britishness is from Jake and the polynesian part is from jade, they’re tan af

Aradia: latina/east asian | mexican/japanese | japanese

I know that canonically she’s supposed to be Japanese so she is part japanese but the dark curly hair, desert climate, obsession with death (day of the dead) made me assume she was Latina the first time I read the comic 🤷‍♀️

Tavros: latino/southeast asian | mexican/filipino | mexican

Man’s obviously latino and I made him Filipino because the actor rufioh is based off is filipino

Sollux: white/east asian | french/korean | canadian (quebec)

French because I immediately decided he was Canadian so french is statistically likely but he also has some Asian vibes so I chose the one country that’s split in two, obviously

Karkat: white | romanian/jewish | american (maine)

Karkat is super pale in such a way that his eye bags are extremely noticeable. He’s Romanian as a reference to vlad the impaler and all the castle ruins in Romania which remind me of his land. He’s Jewish for vibe reasons. Maine for lobsters and and crabs 🦀

Nepeta: white | english/german | american (tennessee)

Because I picture her with blonde hair (like a lions mane). She lives near the Smokey mountains where there are a small population of mountain lions and she’s a crazy wilderness explorer. Think of how cute she’d be with a Tennessee accent

Kanaya: south asian/middle eastern | indian/iranian | american (pennsylvania)

Vibes, imagine her in a sari or any other traditional Indian clothes, she’d be stunning

Terezi: white | greek/irish | greek

The scales, democracy, hello? Also she’s absolutely a red head

Vriska: white | greek/turkish | cypriot

Vriska is definitely white and she’s a pirate so instead of Caribbean (which is mostly black) she’s Mediterranean.

Equius: black | sudanese | american (kentucky)

He’s definitely black and he has locs like you wouldn’t believe. Kentucky because of mammoth cave as a reference to his land and also because of the horse derby

Gamzee: black/white | beninese/portuguese | brazilian

Hes definitely black coded in some ways but the icp are white sooo he’s both. I made him Brazilian for carnival

Eridan: white | scottish/english | american (california)

It’s giving imperialism and Silicon Valley simultaneously

Feferi: white/black | italian/trinidadian | italian

The only reason she’s half white is because I picture her with this light red strawberry blonde hair and it’s also a reference to the Roman Empire. She’s Trinidadian because I headcanon meenah as having a voice like nicki minaj

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓐𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐎 .ᐟ

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ┆ 𝐮𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐨

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ charro!miguel 𝓍 fem!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  you and miguel stroll around the village, spending more time together. the connection between you two grows more intimate. after a lovely day, you come home to devastating news.

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  fluff, intimacy, flirting, swearing, pet names, spanish terms, angst ending

꒰ previous chapter ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ next chapter ꒱

anticipation and nervousness flows through your veins. today you are hanging out with miguel, taking a stroll in the village. it’s not a date, well—it’s not considered as one but seems like it. either way, you are a nervous wreck. of course you want to look nice, so you decide to wear a yellow dress which is one of your favorites. you also wear the gold crescent moon necklace miguel bought you as a cherry on top.

after getting ready and finishing up last touches to your outfit, you head downstairs with anticipation. you pass by your mom, who’s in the kitchen washing dishes. she is aware of your ‘little date’ with miguel, which she’s excited and happy for you.

after finishing the dishes and drying her hands, your mom walks over to you. “are you excited, mija?”

you nod. “sí, i hope it goes okay.”

“i know you’re nervous. especially since he’s so handsome. just relax and have a great time.” she caresses your arms with a smile.

you smile back at her. “gracias, mamá.”

she returns the smile. “now, go. he’s waiting for you.”

you nod with smile before walking towards the front door. as you take each step, the nervous feeling increases. the butterflies in your stomach don’t stop. you inhale deep breaths as you approach the door. slowly unlocking and opening the door, you see miguel standing in front of you.

his eyes widen and mouth hangs slightly in pure astonishment. those brown hues of his scan your outfit. you look ravishing, ethereally beautiful in that yellow dress. a little angel dressed in yellow. miguel noticed the necklace he bought you, he smiles at it.

“buenas dias, señorita.” miguel tips his sombrero, a smirk plastered on his lips. “¿estas lista, mi flor?”

“sí.” you nod with a smile as you step out of the house and closed the door behind you.

the charro smiles in return as he offers his arm for you take, which you did. arms linked together, the two of you head to the village and begin your ‘date’.

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you and miguel wander around the village. the sun shines so vividly, the sky is clear from clouds. another warm day, luckily not humid like previous days. the marketplace is more packed today, business must be booming. fellow residents walk amongst the streets, charros riding their horses, children running around.

to start off your little journey, miguel takes you to a small pastry shop. it contains all the classic pastries. flan, conchas, orejas, empanadas, and rosca. they all look so delicious, such a mouthwatering sight. it’s quite difficult which one to choose first.

miguel already knows which pastry he’s choosing first. a classic empanada, his favorite.

you favored a pink concha as your first.

after enjoying your delicious pastries, you order chocolate flan. you have been dying to try one ever since you first laid your eyes on it one time.

while sitting at one of the small outdoor tables, you take a first bite of the delicious flan. the moment it hits your tongue, your eyes dilate in pure delight. oh you now have a new favorite dessert.

“oh my god—qué rico eso!” you muffled in enthusiasm, covering your mouth with a hand.

miguel chuckles as he nods, agreeing with your statement. “sí, the best one i’ve ever tried.”

the both of you continue devouring the delicious pastry, discussing how amazing it tastes. you will most definitely visit this shop more often. that chocolate flan forever changed your life.

afterwards, you two continue roaming the streets while your stomachs digest the delicious food. you pass all types of shops, restaurants and bars. in the main center area of the village, a live mariachi plays in the gazebo. a small group of people are dancing, creating a tiny dance floor. without hesitation, miguel lures you despite your cute protests. it’s clear you are shy, especially in public but he reassures you by to simply focus on him and ignore everyone else.

basically similar as last night, you and miguel danced together in harmony. the classic dips and twirls, making you laugh and miguel smile. some of the others are fascinated and intrigued by your routine, the chemistry between you two.

after a charming dance session, you two revisit the marketplace. the original intention was to simply glance around without purchasing anything. but the minute you come across the jewelry stand, all of that was thrown out the window.

“miguel, por favor, you don’t have to.” you whine, lips pouting and brows furrowed in a concerning manner.

“ay, mi flor. i already told you, i’ll buy anything for you, anything you want.” a grin on his face, internally suffering from that adorable pout of yours. god you kill him every time with that look.

miguel wants to buy two gold bracelets with red gemstones. he noticed your eyes widening in delight when you first saw them. he had to get them.

you gently tug on the sleeve of his jacket. “miguel…”

god if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. honestly, he would die a happy man if seeing your face was the last thing he would see. despite your adorable protests, miguel buys them anyways.

“lo siento, hermosita. despite how adorable you are, i’m buying these bracelets for you.” he said, grinning.

you whine in disapproval but can’t resist his charms, allowing him to win once again. although, you wouldn’t mind accepting more gifts from him. only a just a few, but that would be a lie knowing how he is.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

after your little visit to the village, miguel takes you to his ranch. he wishes to show you where he and gabriel practice charrería. while glancing around the small arena, he lures you to where his horse stays in.

“this is philliphe.” miguel introduces his horse.

you stare in adoration at the house, gently petting his head. “hola, philliphe. he’s beautiful.”

a low chuckle escapes his lips. “he’s my best friend. the best horse in town.” miguel pets his head as well before moving to the second horse next to his. “this is antonio, gabriel’s.” he gestures at it.

you walk over to greet the second horse by tenderly petting its head as well, a smile gracing your lips. “where is gabriel, by the way?” you asked.

“he’s out con sus amigos, esos pendejos.” miguel internally scowls at the thought.

you softly giggle. “i take it you don’t like them.”

he shrugs. “they just get into too much pendejadas and i always have to go rescue his ass.”

you continue giggling while petting antonio.

miguel watches you being affectionate with the horse. how adorable, he thought. suddenly, an idea pops in his mind. “do you want to go for a ride?”

you glance up at him in complete surprise. not gonna lie, you are a little hesitant because you have never attempted horseback riding before. “um… i don’t know… i’ve never…” you start feeling embarrassed, making yourself avert from his gaze.

he senses your hesitancy which he makes take a step closer. “aw mi flor, no té procupes. you’ll be okay. i’ll make sure your safe.” he tenderly takes your hand, giving it a loving squeeze as reassurance.

your heart flutters at his words. now you are blushing once again. his pleading warms to your heart. “okay.” you answer shyly with a smile.

a smile forms on his lips, visibly pleased with your approval. once he steadied philliphe, miguel gently placed his hands on your waist as a signal, you nod in return. very carefully, he lifts you up so effortlessly, which earned him a tiny squeal from you, and carefully sits you down on the saddle.

“you okay?” he asked, concern laced in his tone with slightly furrowed brows. that last thing he wants for you to feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

you nod while settling yourself on the saddle.

miguel hops on the horse as well, you behind him. you wrap your arms around his waist, holding onto him. surprisingly, your little arms managed to wrap around his broad body. you feel the warmth radiating from him. it feels so soothing; comforting.

“hold on tight, hermosa.” miguel said with tenderness in his voice.

without wasting a second, you two begin moving. a very faint gasp escapes your lips at the sudden movement, tightening your grip on miguel’s waist. your reaction earns a low chuckle from him.

the two of you wander around the village, riding the adorable philliphe. several residents wave and greet you both, many of them knew miguel obviously. you just enjoy spending time with him, resting your head against his back while you continue your journey.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

you return home safe and sound. after helping you getting off from the horse, which always startled you but luckily miguel’s large hands held you securely, he carefully plants you on your feet. also not forgetting to mention the butterflies going wild in your stomach when you felt his hands on your waist.

he gently takes your hand and plants a kiss on the back of it as a sign of goodbye. you shyly smile at him in return while feeling like a bashful mess, hints of pink staining your cheeks every time.

after your goodbyes, you head inside. miguel stayed outside until the door closed after you, making sure you entered safely. once you did, he and philliphe head back to their home for the night.

with your back against the door, you recap todays events. definitely one of the best days ever. it was a magical experience, spending more time with miguel. everything was perfect, the little pastry shop, the dancing, and horseback riding. philliphe is such an adorable horse, antonio too. you enjoyed, savored every moment. you can’t wait for what he has in store for you tomorrow. the corners of your lips curl up into a smile at the thought, visibly excited.

after a moment of reflection, you head over to find your parents. assuming they’re in the living room or kitchen, you head in that direction.

“mamá, papá, estoy aquí!” you shout, notifying them of your arrival as you enter the house.

you walk to the kitchen to find your parents sitting at the table. they both turn to look at you, your dad appears serious while your mom so remorseful. that confuses you, making you stop in your tracks.

“mamá, papá. ¿qué paso?” you voice your concern, looking at them both with a worried look.

did something happen? did you do something wrong? many possibilities ran through your mind, majority of them are negative.

your dad rises up from his chair. “you’re getting engaged to gabriel.”

that phrase makes your heart stop.

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  ˖ ࣪ ༘  @deputy-videogamer @freehentai

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