abuseit

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
  • silky silky smooth
NSFW Masterlist (Merthur)

Game, Set, Match (AO3) by Ingberry

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.

Boundaries (AO3) by Suchgreatheights

TW: mentions of past sexual abuse

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.

Lights Go Out, Here I Go Again (AO3) by Halffizzbin

Shortly after Arthur is resurrected in the 21st century, he finds Merlin’s vibrator.

That’s it. That’s the plot.

Favourite by Astolat

Merlin and Arthur can’t stop having sex.

Chello (livejournal) by Skellerbvvt

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.

My Very Own Pornstar (AO3) by Bloodsongs

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.

Freedom Hangs Like Heaven (livejournal) by Derryere

It’s happened five times and they don’t talk about it.

Flatmates (livejournal) by Rotrude

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.

The One Where Merlin Has a Shady Work History (AO3) by Flammablehat

Merlin may have let slip that he used to be a male stripper.

Delayed For A Little While (fanfiction) by MG12CSI16

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.

Destiny Itself (And Other Works) (fanfiction) by Val-creative

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.”

spacecat211  asked:

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.”