while i’m at it here are some unpopular opinions let’s just get it all out there
dressage bridles with patent leather nosebands and big drapey sparkly browbands are UGLY
anybody who incorporates turquoise into their tack should be SHOT
saddleseat is a pointless crappy discipline
no horse should be ridden at all until they’re 3 and they shouldn’t be Actually Ridden/have mature expectations of them until they’re like 5 or 6, later depending on the horse (bigger horses mature slower) and discipline. showing 3 yr olds is fucking ludicrous
horses should be on 24/7 turnout with forage excepting those with legitimate problems preventing this/stalling for long periods of time is abuse
it’s ludicrous that hoof boots aren’t allowed in certain competitions because they could ‘mask unsoundness’ but shoes are??
dominance is not a thing in training contexts and never will be sorry literally every big name horse trainer
pinterest is a lot of fun
the majority of horses can be barefoot and the only thing preventing it is general ignorance of hoof shape and function and an unwillingness to allow horses proper time to transition and the fact that most people don’t understand what it takes to maintain a healthy barefoot hoof (movement, varied terrain, gradual adjustment to diff surfaces)
fairy bread is fucking weird
i dont care what it suggests about my sexuality or gender identity imma keep shaving my legs
All of Britain watches as Arthur Pendragon (golden boy of tennis) gets injured at Wimbledon with the London Olympics looming only a few weeks away. Not many people watch as Merlin Emrys (newbie on the medical team) works to get Arthur back into shape, but maybe that’s just as well because Merlin gets a bit more entangled than he planned.
It had been four months with Arthur now. Four months of Merlin slowly easing into things again, figuring out how to let someone back into his heart, but carefully avoiding eye contact as he tiptoed around the physical with quick, flighty steps. Four months of kissing, cuddling, and occasionally wandering hands—but nothing more.
Arthur is the teacher and Merlin is the student, and Merlin comes on to Arthur with increasing pushiness until finally Arthur fucks him over the desk, then licks him clean, and later they go back to Arthur’s place where Merlin begs Arthur to bend him over his knee and spank him, so slightly shell-shocked but super horny Arthur does while Merlin writhes and moans in his lap until they both come everywhere.
Arthur Knight tops in the porn films he stars in for a living, directed by the shy and eccentric Merlin Emrys. No one knows exactly what Merlin’s thinking when he’s in his director’s chair, but if they did, they’d get some choice firsthand insights as to how much Merlin enjoys watching Arthur fuck other men — before claiming Arthur (and his arse) for his own at night behind closed doors.
Arthur/Merlin (not established) Arthur helps Merlin with tie in one of his most important day in his life. Merlin can’t deal with all the pressure and kisses him square on the lips to seek reassurance, as a friendly gesture. Arthur doesn’t see it that way and believes that Merlin has finally decided that after that day he’ll hint to move on with their relationship… but apparently Merlin won’t even remember about it later that evening. Merlin’s an oblivious screenplay writer who understands his life through the lenses of his art; Arthur is his flatmate, who’s a bit smitten but doesn’t always understand Merlin’s antics. And then it’s Merlin’s big day.
Merlin Emrys, the IT guy that works in the basement, absolutely hates Arthur Pendragon, the hot shot boss on the thirtieth floor. So naturally, it would be that particular blond prat that he gets stuck in the elevator with on what was possibly the worst (and consequently the best) day of his life. Modern AU, mostly PWP.
Thirty Merthur smut fics ranging from Canon Era, Modern AU, Canon AU, Fairytale AU, Apocalypse AU, Hogwarts AU, and so on. Day 31: “Canon AU. Uther and Balinor’s kingdoms have been at odds with each other for well over twenty years. Their sons have never met. Arthur doesn’t even know what he looks like.”
Oh oh oh! High school au where T'Challa is a foreign exchange student from Wakanda?
AN: So, I didn’t really get the feel of what exactly you wanted, so I decided to make two drabbles, one angst and one fluff, High School AU, as requested.
TW: mention of child abuse
It’s half past one at night.
The dorm of one Tony Stark and young prince T’Challa is only illuminated by the
lights filtering through the windows’ thin curtain.
“I swear it’s not that bad.”
Tony’s hushed voice doesn’t appease
the tension T’Challa feels at the sight of his boyfriend. The skin around Tony’s
clavicle is swollen, one large hand-shaped bruise forming where the boy’s
father grabbed him. Tony insist that it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt that bad, but
the prince can see, how Tony tenses under the feather-like touches, slightly
flinching not from cold, but pain, when T’Challa carefully puts the pack of deep-frozen
peas on his skin.
“I shouldn’t have left you
alone with him.” He pays attention to keep his voice soft and level. Tony’s
still shaken, and T’Challa would never forgive himself, if he caused more discomfort
to the boy than he is already in.
“Couldn’t have stopped what
happened.” Tony turns his gaze away from T’Challa’s in resignation. He’s biting
the inside of his cheek, an unconscious habit Tony only does, when he’s trying
to hold himself together, put the iron back in his spine. T’Challa hates to see
him like this, face going smooth and blank in the process of shielding himself
from the outer world, he hates it so much, because it means he’s retreating to
a place, where T’Challa can’t reach him. He can’t have this.
The prince gently takes hold
of Tony’s chin, turning his head so that they are eye to eye, dark chocolate
boring into honeyed brown. He needs him to see that his words are genuine, so
when he speaks, he doesn’t break eye contact.
“You’re probably right. I can’t
do anything about the past, but I can make it better in the present.”
The kiss is slow, almost
chaste, and T’Challa tries to ignore how Tony’s fingers dig into his back, like
if it was a lifeline.
“I swear it’s not that bad.”
The sight would be comical if
it wasn’t so tragic, T’Challa thinks, then immediately tries to stifle a
snicker, poker face be damned.
Tony’s coated in flour, head
to toe, hear ruffled and dusted, which is a feat, considering that the coaly
remains laying sadly on the plate in his outstretched hand must have been an omelette
in its prime. He’s grinning sheepishly up at him from behind his messy curls, mischief
glinting in his eyes, shrugging a little, as if saying ‘What can you do?’.
Bruce and Tony decided after a
particularly long study that they needed nutrition – fast. Apparently their
sleep-deprived minds came to the conclusion, that cooking without any prior
experience was a great idea, which resulted in them cracking up eggs and
dumping them in a frying pan, using tremendous amount of flour and leaving out
the oil and salt.
T’Challa eyes Tony with fond exasperation,
and then easily plucks the scorched food out of his boyfriends grasp with a
sigh. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”
Tony snorts, then instantly
starts coughing, when he accidentally inhales the flour. “Couldn’t have…” He then
raises an index finger to motion for patience, before he collects himself to continue.
“…stopped what happened.”
T’Challa arches one eyebrow at
him, and then moves towards the fridge. He ruffles Tony’s hair, flour flying
like snow at Christmas, to gather the ingredients for an omelette.
“You’re probably right. I can’t
do anything about the past,” He turns back to wink at his boyfriend, swinging
the carton of eggs at him. “But I can make it better in the present.”