give a horse what it needs

Partner and I have been rewatching The Two Towers for the first time in a long time.

anyway, one thing that has always been weird for me is Eomer giving Hasufel and Arod to random strangers, just like that.  Just giving them away, two horses, to a trio of foreign travelers he just met and had suspected of being spies.

like.  what?  This is Rohan.  Horses are the thing you value above all else, I don’t care if their riders are dead, even if their riders don’t have actual heirs somewhere to whom ownership would pass (or Rohirric inheritance law works differently and ownership has somehow defaulted to their éored’s commander, IDK), you’re still a calvary force planning to see a lot more battle in the near future, chances are high you’re going to end up with horseless riders who’ll need them.

this time I actually processed the fact, though, that Eomer believes they’ve inadvertantly killed two innocents, prisoners of the orcs, the beloved companions of these travelers.

The horses aren’t a gift.  They’re weregild.

Good Things™ in The Lightning Thief cast recording
  • “yEah, the gods are real [BEAT] and they have kids [BEAT] and those kids have isSUESSSSSSS”
  • “look….. I didn’t wanna be a halfblood” (!!!)
  • “but my life? HMM
  • when grover just straight up baas and then pretends that nothing happened
  • “she threw a peanut butter sandwich at you. I blocked it, with my head”
  • “………that’s dedicated for a substitute”
  • just all the blue food references in Strong
  • “oh look, a strange man in a Hawaiian shirt”
  • “you drool when you sleep” (!!!)
  • “for me, not for you, yOU’D BE DEAD”
  • “who am I to give relationship advice I’m literally the god of alcohol”
  • “another terrible daaaaaay” “MR BRUNNER” “at camp half blood-” “YOU’RE A HORSE” “where everythiiiing’s the worst” “WHAT IS HAPPENING”
  • “I need a drink”
  • “welcome to the dysfunctional family”
  • “it’s gonna be bloody murder she wrote
  • “you know what to do.” “yup. hide in a tree!”
  • grover crying in the background after he sings about pan
  • “my father is kronos…….. remember my lecture he ate he his children” …. “chiron wins”
  • everyone’s singing about how shitty their parents are and percy just starts singing about how much he loves his mum
  • actual chills as the oracle sings the prophecy
  • ALL of Good Kid
  • “I’ll be the first” “aND I’LL BE THE SECOND FIRST!!!”
  • every time Annabeth says seaweed brain
  • “demon triplet math teachers”
  • “all our food was in there all our clothes were in there aLL OUR FOOD WAS IN THERE”
  • “I don’t wanna die in the Garden State!”
  • Grover talking to the squirrel
  • “that seems kinda,, nuts” ……….. “you hurt his feelings”
  • “aww is that a chihuahua?” “IT’S A CHIMERA”
  • all of The Tree on The Hill holy shit
  • “maybe doesn’t let me go back and save her”
  • “it’s there reminding me of all I failed to be”
  • “do you have any josh groban?” “we will,, eventually”
  • “who has two turntables and three sick heads??? everybody give it up for DJ CERBERUS!”
  • “plus a half-goat with a great goatee!”
  • “you’re the two best friends this screw-up’s ever had”
  • every time Mr D gets Percy’s name wrong
  • the moment in Last Day of Summer that Percy realises Luke betrayed him
  • “don’t feel bad bc I’m usually about to die”
My best of winter 2017

Kuzu no honkai

Originally posted by sairenji

Personally I was quite thrilled for this one since I was folowing the manga. The wait was worth it

Reasons to see it

  1. Great story
  2. Beatiful visuals and art
  3. The ost is so onpoint like damn
  4. The damn feels
  5. I will give you a 5 cmx second vibe sometimes
  7. The human strugles about love are so real
  8. The really hot nsfw scenes lol

Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon

Originally posted by kyotouryuu

Ok I was literally expecting nothing from this anime , moe appart ofc . And It actually turned to be one ot the most batiful slice of life/ comedy I’ve seen in a while

Reasons to see it:

  1. Great charachters
  2. I will make you laugh out loudly ad give you some hapiness
  3. The osts and the gags
  4. Some good lessons about life and stuggles

And the most important reason

Originally posted by kyotouryuu

Whatch it for this godess. Literally lol

Little Witch Academia

Originally posted by jihen

My dark horse of the season. I just love this anime and the vibe it gives so much. Expecially ako and her expressions. Precious child.

  Reasons to whatch it:

  1. One of the best female leads
  2. The great sucy ( we all know she is best girl)
  3. The simple but yet great animation
  4. The comedy that alys hides some deep messagge behind it
  5. Whatch it you want to fall in love with magic and innocence

  Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu: Sukeroku Futatabi-hen

Originally posted by cutefujoshiyaoi

The first season hooked me up. the second one made meworship and love it. Seriously what a magnificent anime

Reason to whatch it:

  1. This is a little masterpiece, You don’t really need more than this lol
  2. Great and unprecditable drama
  3. Memorabe characters
  4. Amazing animation
  5. Best opening I’ve seen in a while. One of my all time favorite op
  6. The feels are real and will et you alive


3-gatsu no Lion

Originally posted by lilium

This anime once again proved me that underrated anime are the best. This anime strugges are so real that it just breaks your heart. Once again umino chika (Hachimitsu to clover) lived up to her name

Reason to whatch it:

  1. Rei. One of the best devolved protagonist I’ve seen
  2. His problems are so deep and real you can’t help to cheer for him
  3. Great side characters and  charachter devolpment
  4. Amazing art
  5. Great balance betwen comedy/seriousness/sad scenes
  6. Come for the charachters and stay for the feels


Originally posted by mirayama

Hands down to one of the most beatiful shonen’s ever made. You don’t need the sad past from the 1 episode to pity the charachters . Afer 400 episodes is more epic

As the precedent arc Gintama was the anime that made me laugh and cry more than everything. The  great balance between commedy and serious scenes is what makes gintama so special.

You don’t need reasons to go and whatch this. Just do it , you will thank me later. It’s probably better than any overated shonen anime like one piece ( yeah I said one piece) , Fairy tale, and even Naruto which I love with all my hear.

-My favorite part of the season was about zura’s bacstory and fight scene. I already loved him but the deepness sorachi added to him left me spechless.

Originally posted by yorozuya-kagura

So much weirdness is going on in this picture

Jaebum showing us how he got that back injury while snowboarding in Guatemala “and then I just slipped like this argh…. are you even listening guys?”

Bambam well… he’s just f*cking the floor. Someone give this kid a Valium. 

Youngjae mimicking Jaebum’s sloppy body rolls after 3 shots of tequila, while laughing like a horse. 

Mark about to give Yugyeom what he needs, but instinctively turning over on all fours as he sees Jackson approaching 

Yugyeom ready to jump on Mark but getting choked by Jinyoung in the process

Jinyoung grasping his chance to finally end Yugyeom and make it seem like an accident now that everyone is watching Bambam fucking a floor

and lastly-


Well there you go if that ain’t the weirdest shit you’ve seen today I’m fucking a floor.  

Just Depressed Equestrian Things

  • Wearing the same pair of breeches for weeks on end because the others are dirty and you haven’t done laundry
  • Did you give your horse its grain today or was that yesterday? What day even is it?
  • All of the poop falls of your pitch-fork. You’re giving up. You’re crying. This is the worst day of your life
  • Tacking up your horse seems like the most difficult thing to do, do you even need to ride today?
  • It’s ok if your horse has more time off right?
  • You’re going nowhere. Your horse deserves better. You won’t ever be succesful you should just sell them.
  • When was the last time you even cleaned your tack?

anonymous asked:

Going off the fighting with no pads+ live weapons+ sparring=death discussion, what would you suggest as an alternative? I'm working on a fantasy story where two of my characters are training in swordsmanship with the intention of becoming knights, but warfare is a lot different than using pads/dummies. What are ways I can have my characters realistically train for battle without mauling each other? Or should they just cross their fingers and hope they don't die on the battlefield in real combat?

Well, for starters, they use training weapons. These are are weapons that are essentially what they’d be using and are blunted. The character gets the effect of training with the weapon and practicing their techniques against another opponent without risk of fatal injury.

This is a long standing practice in all martial disciplines and it is much safer than letting beginners murder each other. You never get to touch a real sword until you’ve reached the end of your training. They’re expensive, dangerous, and most knights aren’t going to have the money to replace all the weapons they’ve destroyed during training.

You start with wood, then move up to metal, then move up to the real blades.

You also don’t have your knights learning to joust each other with real lances either. It’ll be blunted lances like the ones used at tournament, and will use those at all times except on the battlefield. They’ll only be allowed to joust other students when their performance is satisfactory, and they will practice with a dummy first. They’ll keep practicing with that dummy for the remainder of their existence, because it’s safer than practicing with another knight and they can fine hone their skills. Then, they move up to a hanging ring.

They don’t just put you on a horse, thrust a lance in your hands and hope for the best.

They’ll spar with padded armor. When they reach a point in their training where the time has come for them to wear armor, they’ll be using older suits rather than new ones. If they spar with live weapons at all, at any point, the rules of the duel will be to first blood and will be watched very closely by their training instructors.

Training happens in stages.

You practice the pieces of the technique, broken down. You learn the stance, then you learn what you’re doing with your hands. How to hold the weapon. Then, you learn how to move the weapon. Then, you practice the technique all together incorporating your whole body. Then, you practice that singular technique with another human (drilling), then, you learn other techniques, then you learn to connect all those techniques together, then you learn the defenses against those techniques, then you practice them with your partner, and then… then you spar.

In between these stages, you condition. You drill. You condition more. Drill more. Learn more techniques. Sparring becomes a reward. As you go up in rank, the targets you are allowed to hit in sparring expand. The more difficult techniques you learn. You may then advance to other weapons, or you’ll be doing most of them at the same time.

Round and round we go.

Practice with the sword before you hold the shield. Practice with the shield before you hold the sword. Learn to wield the sword with one hand. Then with two. Then with a shield. Learn horseback riding. Learn the staff. Learn the bow. Learn the knife.

Then, once you have a base and you are lucky, you will spar against different weapon types.

If he is confident in your abilities and you have the time, he may hold a melee or allow you, his trainee, to participate in one. Or you may do so while squiring to a knight, depending on your master. What is a melee? It is a practice battle, like a real one without the death (usually).

Or, you may not get any of this. Be thrown into battle up front and be forced to learn as we go.

There’s a target point for what you want to have, and then there’s what you get. A medieval knight or squire or even a page may very well be forced into battle long before they’re “ready”. A page’s training also depends heavily on who is fostering him/her and if they care.

Knights were not given the same training. The concept of training, armed warfare, and mass conflict as we understand it today didn’t exist. They were dependent on which local lord took them under his wing, funded them, and how invested he (and his arms master) was in their training. If they got a sadist for a teacher then they got a sadist for a teacher.

The problem with the romantic “live weapon” idea most people have is that “live weapons” will better prepare you for real combat. They don’t, because nothing compares for real combat. These characters may also see combat long before they become a knight, as they’ll be squired out first and their experiences depend on what their knightly master will be doing.

Knights are a training investment of fourteen years. You don’t waste that lightly. It also costs way too much to outfit them with real shit that they will then misuse and break. Especially not when you can just give them the sturdier, more reliable shit that many others have used before them.

The same is true for the horses. They get the training ponies with the hard mouths before they ever approach a warhorse. They need to prove themselves worthy of the substantial investment which comes with equipping them.

Yes, even the sadistic masters do this. The only difference is the mind games they play while it happens.

And, yes, with the first battle it will always be “hope for the best”. Anything else, they’re kidding themselves. Training is about getting you as prepared as you can be for the real thing, but it is not the real thing and no amount of live blades in a practice arena will change that.

Which is why you don’t do it.

Besides that, there’s the injury risk. Students who don’t know what they’re doing have a greater chance of injuring themselves and others. Injuries are costly. Training relies on consistency. If you’re stuck in your room with a twisted ankle, a bruised collarbone, nevermind a serious injury like a broken bone, then your training will lapse. A student needs to stay active in order to remain viable. If they’re not then its a waste of money, equipment, and other resources like food.

You’ve got to feed them, billet them, and everything in between. If you want shock troopers that’s what the peasants are for. A knight is an investment. You push your investment. You do not break them. They then repay you with their service.

A single soldier in the United States Military costs the taxpayers around a million dollars. Their training is also among the cheapest things the military can buy. In terms of resources in the Middle Ages, the feeding, training, and equipping of a knight costs far more than that.

Think about it. And maybe do some more research.

Otherwise, you’ve got a trainer going, “I want to blow through fourteen years and nine million dollars to soothe my students’ egos!”


“Anything Goes” is a Hollywood creation. You train all combatants on the assumption they’ll be killed, you want to give them the tools to survive but they’ll probably die. For this reason, you need every single one. You can’t waste them on each other. That’s a major reason why tournaments came to exist, so you could have the war and the skill without the death.


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Meant to Be (12)

Mean to Be Masterlist

Pairing: Prince!Bucky X Servant!Reader

Words: 1690

Warnings: Angst to fluff.

Summary: As the news of the King’s death spreads throughout the land, lords and ladies from the nearby countries swarm the castle to offer condolences to the queen and her son. As the prince mourns his father, he is met with the reality that he must now choose a wife and begin his reign.

A/N: Did you catch The Hobbit (2nd movie) reference? I’ll put up the tags later. Tag list is closed!!! There is one part left :)

Keep reading

my friend was upset tonight so naturally I decided to spam them with pictures of fish costumes and honestly I had a ball

so I’m gonna share them with you now. Get ready for a wild ride.

let’s start simple

real simple

“haha see I have fins! haha help me

lots of nemos going around

some of them more terrifying than others

it’s like he’s wearing horse blinders I’m

okay well this one has the colours I guess

are you serious

how many sexy fish costumes could there possibly - 

okay but surely - 


not sure how the fuck we’re supposed to feel about this one


someone save him

give em the ol razzle dazzle

this is why NASA won’t explore the ocean


alright let’s get back to some friendlier content

we agreed this one would be me

this guy’s just happy to be invited to the party

this one’s kinkshaming you

this one is very possibly my favourite

and these guys are the grand finale because I have so many questions?? But I don’t want a single one answered look at this. Fish on segways. Amazing.

Okay thank you for your time.

The Guilty Dragon

Originally posted by daenerystargaryendaily

Viserys x Reader

Part Two

Viserys watched you sleep in wonder. You were gentle and kind, caring for the people around you in a way he could never understand. His fingers trailed down your back as he watched your chest fall and rise, the way the thin fabric of your night dress pooled around you doing little more than tempt him to wake you and indulge in your affection for him.

He was forced to leave you sooner than he wanted to, someone had told him of a man who had an army and another whisper told him of where he could find ships. The meeting was boring and slow but his mood was lifted slightly when he spotted you and Daenerys wondering through the gardens, both seeming relived to reach the shade when you sat and laughed, your fingers trailing through the water as you listened to his sister.

Keep reading


Originally posted by molzies-fanfics

Prompt credit goes to: @imagineinhobbiton


The man in question freezes at the sound of his father’s voice, briefly shocked that he didn’t sense his presence in the stables. He dismounts his stallion carefully, avoiding his father’s eyes, but turning to him. 


“You were in Laketown again.”

Legolas leads his horse to its stall and begins to unsaddle him. “And you sent scouts after me.”

Thranduil steps forward, his long cloak brushing across the ground. His magnificent robes and crown look so out of place in the Mirkwood stables. “Of course I did. Cin are nin réd.”

Legolas turns around to face his father, growing angry internally. Over the years, he’s learned to keep his emotions hidden. Especially to his father. “But im am ú- a hén.” His father frowns at his unusually harsh tone, but at this point, Legolas doesn’t care. He’s been on his father’s leash for too many years. He turns back to his horse and pulls his saddle off. “What is it you need, my king?”

He misses the way his father’s expression drops at the formal words, but it’s gone as soon as it came. “What is the girl’s name?”

Legolas pauses in hanging up the bridle. “(y/n).” Thranduil turns around and begins to pace in the majestic way he always does when he’s thinking about something. “Why?”

“Is she elven?”

“She is human,” Legolas replies. He steps out of the stall and gives his horse one last pat before sliding the door shut. Thranduil begins to walk, and Legolas slides into step next to him.


“Yes, father.”

They walk in silence the rest of the way up to the beautiful caverns of Mirkwood. Moonlight lights their path, and there is no noise except for their soft footsteps on the falling leaves. Legolas wonders why his father is so curious about his goings all of a sudden. Normally he chooses to stay out of his son’s personal exploits, only speaking with him when he is needed.

As the guards open the large doors for their king and prince to enter, Thranduil speaks again. “Ceri- cin mel hen?” 

Legolas’s eyebrows shoot up slightly at the question. He knows better than to lie to his king, even though he already knows the consequences of the truth. “Yes.”

“Then you must know that your duties as crown prince overrule that love. You are to wed an elven woman and have elven heirs when you are king. A human has no place here.”

“I do not believe that.”

Thranduil stops and faces his son for the first time that night. “Legolas, someday she will die, and your children will die, and you will have no one else. No heirs, no wife, no family.”

Legolas frowns and grits his teeth, trying not to loose his temper. “But im will ú- n- cin despite tuin losses. Im will ú- n- echor, because mel will gar- made nin laug.”

Thranduil raises his eyebrows in shock, and Legolas steps back. “I will love who I wish to love, just as you did. If that means I have to become mortal to do so, so be it.” And with that, Legolas clicks his heels and walks away, leaving his father staring at the spot he was just standing in.

Sindarin words:

“Adar” - Father.
“Cin are nin réd” - You are my son.
“But im am ú- a hén” - But I am not a child.
“Firen” - Human.
“Ceri- cin mel hen?” - Do you love her?
“But im will ú- n- cin despite tuin losses. Im will ú- n- echor, because mel will gar- made nin laug.” -  But I will not be you despite those losses. I will not be cold, because love will have made me warm.

Giving an animal the level of care they need to thrive ≠ spoiling them, nor does it make it okay to exploit them. For example:

 - Giving chickens pasture and space, fresh water, and all the food they need as well as form of mental and physical stimulation is you doing the bare minimum for them to thrive. They do not owe you eggs for you allowing them to thrive.

- Giving your horse the space as well as giving them plenty of roughage, if not pasture, and appropriate exercise and stimulation is you doing the bare minimum for them to thrive. They do not owe you their bodies for you to work as you see fit because you are giving them what they need to thrive.

When is it ever okay to exploit and profit from someone else’s needs? Since when did giving an animal what they need to thrive become synonymous with spoiling them? No animal owes you anything for the care they need. If you bring an animal into your home and under your care and expect that animal to work for that care then you are not fit to be in charge of that animal. 

anonymous asked:


i included saebae in this too~


  • it varies between mundane things, such as reciting the recipe for pad-thai, to some real freaky stuff like
  • “It all goes white you know… white static and noise…”
  • “There are strangers in the corners”
  • “Nothing is here.”
  • and then he’ll go back to random shit
  • “He wants…broccoli…give him the vegetables.”
  • he also sings some tunes that you’re pretty sure he makes up on the spot
  • “I used to be…a manly man…as manly as can be…”
  • “Dumbledore…will wiggle…into your…sandwich…and you will…ahh…eat him…by mistake…”


  • Um so like this kid for some wild mysterious reason is gonna start using slang from the past ten decades but rolled into a single sentence
  • you’ll ask him what these things mean while he’s awake
  • but Zen has zero idea
  • “You scoundrel…you CUR…your mama is a…SLANDEROUS b’izz’nitch!”
  • “Damn skippy….he’s….he’s a dink!”
  • after tapping your shoulder, “Butt me!”
  • “That’s some…trunkicular bubs!”


  • She leaves you wondering what she’s even dreaming about
  • “Mr. Han, we….cannot to a reboot of SpyKids using…cats instead…of mmmh, humans.”
  • “Is this…a…bee? Uhhh….give me…half…”
  • “I’m fine…I had twenty coffees…ahh yes, a gift card…no I don’t need a horse thank you.”
  • Hello…I already found…Jesus…mmhmm he was in…my…kung-pao chicken…”


  • literally the sweetest summer child 
  • it’ll be like he’s talking to someone 
  • but he’s talking about you
  • and how much you mean to him
  • “MC…has got the prettiest eyes…and the best smile…”
  • “MC is the best thing…that’s ever happened to me.”
  • “MC…I hope you stay with me forever.”
  • ….
  • ……
  • “I bet MC would look great as a…giraffe.”


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  • sometimes he’ll whimper, “No…not again…” and “Hyung…where are you?” whenever he has nightmares about his past
  • but the rest of the stuff he says is too good
  • “Ice cream is….milk? I don’t like…bread face.”
  • “Oh…worm?…chunky worm…”
  • *light gasp* “Ermygerd…they were…roommates.”
  • you can also have conversations with him while he’s sleeping
  • “They call me the……”
  • “Yes, what do they call you?”
  • “The destroyer…”
  • “Oh? And why is that?”
  • “Cuz…nobody can handle…this massive DONG!” he yells, sitting bolt upright 
  • 5 seconds later he’s asleep again and you’re just giggling because “massive dong” who???
  • but your favorite is the time he stole all the covers
  • so you gently prod him, “Saeran, I need some blanket…”
  • he groans
  • *vine voice* “You can’t make me do aaaanything!” *rolls off the bed*

Masterlist ^0^

1. Equate your own skin to silk and believe it is just as
priceless to match. Your body is a temple you’ve never been
very good at praying toward; it’s time to finally appraise
the stardust inside of you.

2. You will command your hands to push paint to a canvas
and a pen to paper. You will create, create, create until you
feel as full of color as your artwork. 

3. ‘Tomorrow’ will not be a terrifying word anymore.
You will train myself to take time by its clock hands like 
a horse, rein in positivity and the courage to say that you
will not be a victim of your disorders. 
(This war was never theirs to win in the first place.
Their blades hold no advantage over your bite.)

4. I will only give advice when asked for it. I will only 
take peoples’ hearts in mine if I know what is within
them. I will not let myself breathe in their blood like
air, like I need it to survive. I will learn that I only 
need myself. Always.

5. Your bedroom is not a tomb. Your house is not a
home, but it’s not a prison either. Make the best out
of bad situations from now on. Self-pity isn’t pretty.

6. Quit drinking rum while you’re sad. Actually, quit
drinking while you’re sad in general. The higher your
blood/alcohol content does not equal how high your
spirits lift. Leave the bottle alone and write.

7. You do not need to evaluate every sentence someone
mutters in your direction. You are not the center of 
everything. You are not the sun, but when you are at peace
with yourself the light you give off could burn a hole 
through every tear you’ve ever cried. Remember that.

8. Be okay without him.

9. Be okay without him.

10. Be okay without him.

—  resolutions for my future self in 2016 (a letter) // Haley Hendrick

anonymous asked:

After Claire reveals the truth to Jamie about who she really is, he replays the day they met in his mind to see it from a new perspective.

Hail Mary

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate, and 2) not *had* to get married?

Part I  Part II  Part III Part IV Part V 

Part VI 

He couldn’t get enough air. 

No, he wasn’t just suffocating. He was being suffocated, being pressed downward, screaming, but with no one to hear, no mercy from those cruel hands pinning him down. He struggled against them, struggled against the evil and the darkness of —

And then he was free and Jamie roared upward, lunging for his attacker’s throat. 

He came awake in mid-air, the cold air hitting his bare legs, reality still swirling and shifting in the darkness as he flung the intruder flat on the bed, pinning THEM, choking them with— 

“Ja—MIE—” came a strangled female voice, throat muscles working desperately beneath his hands. “—s’—ME!”


He leapt backward off her and off the bed so violently that he staggered and would have toppled onto his backside if he hadn’t caught onto the tall dresser. He steadied himself and his mind, though both were reeling: 


His chamber 

Dead of night 

Claire Beauchamp 

on his bed

She had sat up, and in the dim, flickering light, Jamie could see that she was clad only in her shift, a flimsy shawl underneath her on the bed. 

His heart thundered—melted— to see her; to see how lovely she was; to feel how deeply she roused him; to be hit with the aching of how much he wished to touch her—take her in his arms and tell her how much—how deeply, painfully—he’d missed her these last three weeks—

But the ice around his heart solidified again almost instantly, the ice that had kept him sane for those three weeks; the ice that would continue to keep him alive as long as he was forced to see her around Castle Leoch, until he could get himself away to Lallybroch, away from her. 

And yet despite everything, that very ice shuddered to see the fear in her golden eyes, her hands clutched at her throatDespite everything she’d done and said, his heart contracted with panic. His voice came out urgent and strangled. “Have I hurt ye, Mistress?” 

She dropped her hands at once and shook her head quickly. “No, just startled. I’m not hurt, Jamie,” she said more firmly, seeing him unconvinced, searching her skin for marks. “I promise. I’m alright.” 

“Aye, well…I’m glad of it. I’m—I beg your pardon for—” he made a vague gesture toward the bed. “Ye took me unawares from my dream, and—I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she repeated, giving him a weak smile. “No harm done.” 

He nodded, but the ice was firmly back in pace. “Tis time for ye to take your leave, Mistress Beauchamp.”


He shouldn’t have been surprised, not in the slightest.

“Mistress, ‘tis the middle of the night.  D’ye have any idea what they’d say if ye were found in my—” He took a step toward her. “Your reputation would be ruined.”

Her expression was hard, yet still somehow flippant in that damnable way of hers as she shrugged, “Don’t have a very good reputation to uphold, anyhow.” 

“Dinna be joking about,” he snapped, holding out his hand. “Come. NOW.”  

 “I’m not leaving. And before you threaten to carry me out yourself—” she said loudly, JUST as he’d been opening his mouth to do just that, “—know that if you so much as try, I’LL scream at the top of my lungs and see who comes running. I don’t give a rat’s arse about my reputation, and I’M willing to let the chips fall as they may. Do you want me to do that?” 

Damn her. DAMN her. 


“Well then,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “look’s like I’m staying.” 

Defeated and all the more angry for it, he threw his hands up in the air. “What in God’s were ye doing creeping about touching me in the night, anyway?”

She glared at him. “To talk to you, of course.”

Talk?” He rubbed his hands backward through his hair to keep from throttling her in earnest. “Have ye no scruples, woman? Christ, there are proper times and places for—”

“Oh, there ARE, are there? DO be a dear and tell me when and where those might be, won’t you?” She made a sound of deep derision and crossed her arms sharply, apparently as angry and barely-restrained as he. “Jamie, you’ve spent THREE BLOODY WEEKS ignoring me—what else was I supposed to DO??”

*Avoiding* you, mo nighean donn; not ignoring you.

But avoid her, he had, and quite effectively, at that. Colum’s explicit instructions had been that she was not to leave the castle walls, nor had she, else she certainly would have come to find him at the stables, where he had spent every possible moment, save sleeping and mealtimes, though he’d contrived to eat at odd hours. She had tried half a dozen times to approach him, in the corridors, in the great hall, in the courtyards, but he’d said no more than a cool, “Mistress,” of acknowledgment as he took his leave.

Avoided, aye; never ignored. He had been as aware of her as of the daylight, her presence and absence fundamentally guiding his thoughts and activities. She was his light, whether he willed it or no. 

“What else was I supposed to DO, Jamie?” she was repeating, now standing just a few feet from him, moving with him as he stepped to and fro away from her, to MAKE him look at her.

He did look at her, hard. “Leave me be. That’s what.” Just go away. Go away from this Castle and rid me of the torment of having you near.

Jamie!” Frustration and desperation were battling for dominance in her wearied voice. “We HAVE to talk!”

“We dinna have to do any such thing. And, by all the saints,” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly at her body, desperate for anything to throw her off the scent, “even if we did, did ye have to come practically naked?? You’re in naught but your—” (thin-as-an-April-breeze) “—SHIFT and I’m—” 

He could feel the draft from the window sneaking up his legs, caressing every inch of bare flesh under his shirt, and his face burned

“—I’m not presentable.”

She didn’t budge an inch. “Put some damed clothes on, then.”  

When he didn’t immediately make a move, she rolled her eyes, turned, and walked to the bed, snatching up her shawl and jerking it around her shoulders and pulling it around her. 

Breasts now covered, she raised a defiant eyebrow.  He glared at her, but finally decided that even if he should risk her threats and carry her bodily into the hall and bolt the door behind, best to do so with breeks on. He threw open the trunk at the foot of the bed and rummaged until he found a pair, turning from her as he laced them.

“Can we talk now?” she said, as he turned back to face her.

In contrast to her evident amusement, his own voice was low and nasty. “Go ahead.”

She blinked and dropped her eyes to her crossed arms. 

A dhia, how he despised himself in that moment—he wasn’t the kind of man that spoke this way to women, not least of all to a woman that he—but Jamie simply couldn’t shake the anger and hurt that coursed through him at the sight of her. She didn’t want him for a husband—fine; but could she not just stay away? Go away. Just go away. 

When she spoke, she met his eye straight-on, quiet, but determined. “Thank you. For helping me talk my way out from under Colum and Dougal,” her eyes were shining with sincerity. “I truly couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else, Mistress?” He gestured toward the door.

She threw up her hands. “Jamie, for heaven’s sake will please just hold your goddamn horses and give me a chance, here? I’ve got things I need to ask you!”

He bowed his head. Stop being a child, Fraser.

“What is it ye wish to know, mistress?”

She heaved a breath and let it out, preparing herself, shivering. He strode to the fire and stoked it, to give them both a moment for it. The light danced on her face as he turned back to her, her face strained and urgent with her questions.  “Why did you help me with your uncles? After all I—You didn’t have to tell them anything. You had every reason to just leave me to my own fate. Why?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable, still fingering the poker. “Didna wish to see ye come to harm.”

“Harm?” That genuinely startled her. “You think they would have….ordered me tortured, you mean?”

“Perhaps not Colum….” He chose his words carefully. “But ye have—not the faintest idea of the—the depth of the hatred Dougal bears the English, even more than most Scots. If he truly believed ye to be passing on dangerous information…” 

He shrugged again. He had no doubt that she would have come to some form of harm, whether at the hands of the MacKenzies or the English, had he not interceded. No matter how deeply she had hurt him, he didn’t wish to see any ill befall her. Not ever.

“And do they truly believe you?”

“Aye, they do.”

She nodded slowly, then suddenly dropped her eyes and began fingering the hem of her shawl. “The ‘allegiances’ you spoke of…Was that…” Christ, she was squirming like a worm on a hook, “were you talking about Laoghaire?”

He snorted. “Certainly NOT.” The look on her face made him realize too late that infatuation with Miss MacKenzie would have been a perfect ruse to hide behind; but then again, Miss Beauchamp always had a knack with catching him off guard. Without waiting for her to press, he grudgingly added, “It was my allegiance to Colum of which I spoke. That’s why he took it to heart as he did”

“To Colum?” 

He couldn’t shake the glow that had lit the ice around his heart when her face had lightened instantly at his disavowal of Laoghaire MacKenzie. 

He cleared his throat, squeezing the poker. “Colum wishes that I should succeed him as clan chieftain, someday.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s—Jamie, that’s wonderful!” She looked genuinely delighted and impressed. “Such a great honor.”

“Perhaps, though it’s a honor I dream not of.” 


“I’ve no intention of leading the clan, at least not until after Dougal’s tried his hand at it. He’d skin me alive for taking ‘his’ position, and I’ve no desire to start a clan war. The easiest way is for me to remove myself. Colum doesna ken that, yet, though.” 

“But how does—? What does that have to do with…?” 

“My taking a Sassenach wife—” the word cut his throat like glass, “—would have negated my eligibility for clan leadership outright.”

She dropped her eyes. “I see.”

Aye, I would have done it in a heartbeat, mo ghraidh.

He cleared his throat again. “And so, while Colum and Dougal dinna yet trust that you’ve no other motive for being amongst us, same as before, they do believe my tale about why ye fled.”

Why she fled.

“I had a LIFE, and I’m far past due to return to it!”

“I don’t need your ‘protection,’ Mr. McTavish.”

And still, most cutting of all, the coldness in those golden eyes as she had said: “You were mistaken.”

“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” she was saying, still facing him boldly, though he could see her twisting the fabric of her shawl again, faster and harder. “I don’t even expect you to speak to me again after this. And I’ll go, tomorrow, if that’s what you want.” 

Christ, she meant it. she would leave. 

Aye, Sassenach, just go. 

“I’ll tell your uncles to hand me over to the English and be done with it. It doesn’t bloody matter anymore.” 

Dinna leave me. 

He thickened the ice around his heart. 

“But—” A deep breath, and then her voice was softer. I can’t go another day without saying...I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

The depth of feeling in her voice was powerful enough to catch the breath in his throat… but the ice was powerful too. He only managed a quiet, hard, “What for?”

“For acting the way I did, the night I left. I was…” She paused, shaking her head, “—vicious….and you didn’t deserve that. Not at all. You are—were… are my friend, and I had no cause to treat you in such a fashion.” She took another deep, ragged breath. “The thing is—”

“Let’s just leave it be, aye?”Jamie didn’t think he could bear this. He moved from the fireplace to the window on the far side of the bed, quickly, that she might not see his face. “I accept your apology. There’s no point discussing it further, Mistress.”

“No point?” she whispered from behind him.

His anger flared and he had to grit his teeth. “Ye told me in no uncertain terms, that night, what your feelings were, Claire. Whether or not ye should have been nicer about it is truly neither here nor—”

“But Jamie—” He could hear her moving closer to him, her voice now with an edge of eager desperation. “—I had good reason to leave, I swear it, but—the most important thing you have to hear is—” Her voice was tremulous with emotion. “— you weren’t mistaken—and I came back for you.” Her hand came to rest softly on his arm.

“Jesus, Claire, can ye no’ hear yourself?” He threw off her touch and twisted to face her, hating the rage and scorn coursing through him, but feeling utterly powerless to halt its path. “So, your grand plans of returning to your old life came to naught, and ye came crawling back to Leoch because ye imagined I would be better than nothing, aye?” 

“Jamie,” she whispered, horrified, “it isn’t like that.”

“Oh, no?”

“No, you bastard!” she hissed, on the brink of tears, following behind him as he stormed back to the hearth. “it BLOODY isn’t!”

“Tell me, then, Claire,” he demanded, keeping his voice low. He’d come to stand behind the big armchair—to put some goddamn space between them— and he gripped the back of it hard with both hands to ground himself, “where did ye go?”

Silence. Fear in her whisky eyes. He could see the lie forming, see her closing against him in that glass face. 

“Ye left with haste and wi’ a purpose,” he pressed. “Why?”

Her eyes were down. Her head was shaking hard, fast. “I—I can’t tell you why.”

“You could.” 

“I CAN’T!” 

He nodded, shaking all over. “Then why on EARTH should I trust your word?”

She looked up with glassy eyes.

WHY?” he repeated, more angrily, more pained with every choking syllable “When ye sleep in my arms, hold me wi’ your head on my chest of a morning and then shun me twice to my face before the next sunrise? When your face and your body told me one thing, and then your words another?” His hands were fists, quaking with fury and pain. “When ye STILL willna tell me where it is ye came from or where it is ye went? Why should I believe a word you say, Claire?” 



“You shouldn’t.” 

Her sudden quiet startled him and he searched her face. No longer angry and defensive, no longer controlled. He watched it fall, moment by moment, into a blank of despair.  She continued her descent, apparently helpless to stop it, and sank down onto the trunk at the foot of his bed. “You shouldn’t—you have no reason to believe me.” She released a gasping sob and buried her face in her hands. 

A long silence, punctuated only by the heart wrenching sounds of her sudden brokenness. 

Heart-wrenching. His heart was wrenching apart to see her in pain. 

He tried to be indifferent, to see in this another charade; but after a long moment, he couldn’t help but speak, to reach out to her. “Claire?”

She gave no answer, only wept harder and shook her head back and forth.

Another minute. 

“Why d’ye say I shouldna believe ye, Claire?”


Gently. “Why?” 

Why, mo nighean donn

“Because—” Heaving breaths. Crying. “If I told you the—truth, Jamie—the real, actual truth,” she sobbed still harder into her hands, her voice a strangled wheeze, “You’d never believe me…you’d think me completely—completely mad…”

Would he? Could he ever believe this marvel of an individual to be out of her mind? A lunatic? No. That simply couldn’t be. Whatever it was that she’d concealed, whatever it was she didn’t want to tell him, needed to tell him—it was truth. 

Slowly, he moved from behind the chair, slowly settled beside her on the trunk. 

She exhaled, moved and overcome. “Jamie….”

He couldn’t touch her, wasn’t sure what he would do if he touched her; but he was glad that she knew he was  near. She was right, after all: whatever else passed between them, she was his friend. “I’m here. Tell me….lass.”


It was the first time he had called her anything close to an endearment since she’d returned to Leoch—no, since the night she left—and the saying of it—Christ, it sent a bolt of blazing lightning into the ice around his heart. 

My lass

The crack was deep, deep enough so as not to be repaired, smoldering, spreading.  

My own lass. 

“The woman of Balnain.”

“The—what?”  She had blurted it with no preamble, and he yanked himself back from the melting of his heart to try to understand. “The—Welshman’s song? What of it?”

“I am the woman of Balnain.”

He gobbled for a moment, looking sidelong at her. “Well, the—the words actually translate more to ‘I am the wife of the laird of Bal—”

She shook her head, eyes squeezed tight. “No. No, that’s not what I mean.” 

“I…dinna understand.” 

“I. AM. her.” she whispered, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard.  “I, Claire Beauchamp, AM the woman of Balnain.”

The room seemed to crystallize and go silent. Even the fire was muted out, a faint humming in the distance. 

“The truth…Jamie….The truth is that I am not of this time.” She was still shaking with sobs but was nonetheless speaking with an intensity that he’d never heard from her, not ever before.  “I woke up one morning in the year nineteen hundred and forty-five…and I landed in seventeen forty-three.” She could barely get the words out. “I woke up in Inverness and went searching for a flower I’d seen on the hill of standing stones…” 

She recited the eerie song, her voice—God, her voice—

“I stood upon the hill, and wind did rise….
I placed my hands upon the tallest stone
and travelled to a far, distant land,

….but Jamie….it wasn’t a ‘distant land.’ It was a distant time. The eighteenth century.”

He was gaping at her. She gave another desperate sob, her eyes boring into him, despairing. “That’s the truth, Jamie; The truth of where I came from. I—traveled—back—traveled here—in time.” 

Nineteen hundred…and forty….


in time….? 

There were tales, of course—folk being stolen away by the fairies and being taken to times not their own—

—but as an educated man, he’d always—surely those were only—

But with a jolt akin to being kicked by a great beast, all of it flooded into his mind at once, bowling him over: 

The strange shift she had worn

Her lack of friends and relations

Her inability to account for her background, her intentions among us

The way she had asked for the town, that night we’d found her—a town that must have been visible, two hundred years hence

The way even the most common words and customs seemed foreign to her

The daft words she herself had used

The way this remarkable woman had fallen into his life….

The way this woman like no other he’d ever encountered in his lifetime…

“I was born in nineteenth hundred and eighteen,” she was saying intently, breaking apart, “I was born two hundred years from now.” She make a desperate sound at his silence—anger—fear—tragedy. “Jamie, do you hear me?”

But Jamie heard her words as though from under water; silently reciting the rest of the Welshman’s song

But one day, I saw the moon come out
and the wind rose once more,
so I touched the stones
and travelled back to my own land
and took up again with—

“You’ve been trying to get back to him,” he moaned, the horror and the grief of it washing over him in a landslide, “’the man ye left behind.’

She gasped, then gaped at him, utterly dumbstruck. She couldn’t speak for a long time. Nor could he; could only hear the wailing of his heart. 

When she did finally find her voice, it was strangled and tear-choked. “You—believe me??”

“Aye,” he said at once, his own voice far from strong, but confident in that, at least. “I do believe ye, Sassenach.”

Beyond the memories, all the evidence of her otherness running through his mind like a vision, he could see it in her eyes; he could see it in the slant of her shoulders, broken, but no longer on guard, no longer holding back; he could see it across her glass face, finally free of secrets and lies. Finally free. Aye, he believed her…

…and the truth broke his heart all over again, into more pieces—millions more—than they’d been before. She was married. She wasn’t free to give her heart—Nor had she been; not from the first moment he’d laid eyes upon her. Claire Beauchamp was another man’s wife. 

“Forgive me, lass,” he murmured, rising and going to the fire, trying to keep his voice from breaking, to keep from showing her his despair. He understood, now; understood why she had acted the way she had, but the pain was too great. He had only enough strength left to appear strong. “Stay here for the night—I’ll find another bed.” 

“Forgive?” came her voice behind him, truly bewildered. “Whatever for?”

He had tears in his eyes and he blinked them away fiercely, gritting his teeth. “I canna even bear to think of the—the fool I made of myself in your eyes back wi’ the rent party. Proposing marriage, professing love, when ye already had—”

“No!” she said, jumping to her feet and wiping her own tears away, hard. “Jamie, no, please—that’s what I’m trying to tell you—you weren’t a fool.” 

She came close to stand beside him, and after a long pause, she took his hand. “Jamie…… weren’t mistaken.”

He wasn’t—? He hadn’t been—?

He couldn’t shake off her touch. Couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t even move at all from the inrush of feeling and hope and—

“I felt—just the same as you, Jamie—” she said, carefully but firmly through her tears and emotion. “—from the—God, the first time you held me here at Leoch,—From then onwards, I felt what it was between us.”

A Dhia, just slay me now, lass. Kill me here and let my heart be gone, rather than this torture. He felt like a boy, so eager for her love, and so frightened to hope for it.

“That’s why I left that night—” She was squeezing his hand so hard it hurt, and was staring up at him, her eyes unblinking and spilling with tears. Jamie was staring into the fire, trying to keep control of himself, but she wouldn’t look away. “—because I cared for you too and I felt—” She gave a wracking sob, “—so ashamed because it was like he—my husband—like Frank never—even existed to me—” 

She cares for me. 

She cared for me all along. 

“—And so when you—when you said those things—poured out your heart to me, and I—wanted to pour mine out to you—and I had to get away—and I ran—”

He was squeezing her hand to keep from flying apart. 

She ran because she felt she must 

She cares for me. 

“—and I was praying the whole time I rode it would have been a dream—that I would touch the stones and wake up, but it wasn’t a dream—you were real—and what I felt for you was real—”


“—but I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d come back—”

She ran because of duty .

Her hand in his shook. His hand in hers shook. 

Claire cares for me, too.

“—then I got to the stones and I—couldn’t get through—” She was sobbing, harder than she had yet sobbed in his presence, panic and weariness overtaking her such that she swayed next to him. “—I couldn’t get back—was pounding on that stone for hours—hours—but I—I couldn’t get—couldn’t—”

“Oh, lass—” And before he could stop himself, he was clutching her tight against him, comforting her, holding her, trying to shield her from the sobs that wracked her body.  “I’m so sorry…Claire, I’m so sorry…”

God, and he was, too. The pain and turmoil she’d undergone, that had been tearing her apart with no one to help keep her sane; no one to keep her from being alone. He held her, forcing himself to think only of her. “It’s alright….shhhh, it’s alright… Christ, I’m so sorry.” 

She pressed her cheek hard into his chest. “Jamie, I was so ashamed.” 

“Ashamed? Lass, you’ve nothing to be—”

She pushed back from him and staggered away toward the fire,  just far enough to look him in the eye,. “Because I was relieved—Jamie— I was RELIEVED that I couldn’t go back to him—” She raised her hands aimlessly to the level of her eyes, watching them quake. “—RELIEVED—and I think part of me will be ashamed of that all my life—But I don’t care.”

Jamie didn’t say a word, just let his eyes cling to the sight of her face, open and breaking along with his. ‘Breaking,’—no, he was being utterly torn apart by the gathering of joy and hope, the banishing of the anger and pain. His heart was a gushing torrent, now—the skeleton of the ice wall still standing, but with the current clearly visible beneath, roaring to be free. 

“The fact is that I was relieved. Relieved that I could come back to you.” 

She cares for me 

She left from duty. 

She came back. 


“Jamie….?” she begged, repeating the word like a prayer of supplication. “Jamie…..?”

“Aye?” he croaked.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry—I hate what I did to you— the look on your face when I denied you and—shamed and—wounded you—it killed me—”

“Dinna spare a thought for it,” he started to say, but she quieted him, begging to be allowed to speak uninterrupted.

“—And I can’t bear how this will seem—Like it does seem,” she amended. “You said it yourself: my plans fell through and I’ve come crawling back to you. But that isn’t true.” She took a deep breath and her eyes spoke true to him as she said, strong and clearly even through the gasping and the tears: “I love you, Jamie.”

The ice wall shattered. 

She loves me. 

She loves me. 


“I love you—” she was saying, over and over crying, laughing as the joy of it rushed through her,”—and I care for you—and I respect you, and—” She reached a hand toward his face. “— and I want to marry you.” 

Before he could reach back to her, she was kneeling before him, taking his hand, bowing her forehead over it. “I haven’t anything—I’m no one, in your world— but all I have, and all I will ever have, they’re yours—if you’ll still have me.”

Later, he never would quite recall the exact moment when he moved; the thoughts that went through his head at seeing Claire before him, asking him to share her life. All he could recall was the feeling of her in his arms, the burning in his heart as he crushed her to him; the way he could barely speak the most important words of his life: 

“Yes, mo chridhe—All my life, yes.”

And then he was kissing her. He was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her and feeling her pressed against him. Feeling her kissing him back, the joy and relief in her tears. Sinking back into the armchair, letting her straddle him, holding her and kissing her and drinking her into him.

The rasp of her voice as she clutched his face and groaned into his mouth. “I want to stay with you. I need to be beside you tonight.”

The agony of forcing himself to slow, to still. “No, lass, ye must go now,” he whispered, though his traitorous body kissed her deeper and pulled her closer. “Else I’ll have ye here…now…..”

“Have me,” she moaned, bringing his hand up to her breast—Jesus Christ, the nipple was hard, shockingly firm even through her shift, and she groaned so exquisitely as he ran his thumb round and around it, as she moved her hips against him with shocking urgency. “—Have me—Jamie, please—”

He felt those words strike directly down into his cock and he thought he would die of wanting her, but he managed a soft laugh and pulled away. She gave a growl of urgent protest, of need, and he felt the same rip through his own body at remaining separated from her another moment…but he forced himself to take her face in his hands. “Ye must go. Because as much as I want to be inside ye right now—you’re so much more to me than that, mo chridhe.”

He kissed her, slowly and gently. Kissed the tears on her cheeks. Felt her kiss his as her fingers ran across his face, his hair, claiming him as she settled, quieted to a slow burning, her forehead against his. “What does it mean?” she whispered, her hair falling ‘round them. “Mo…cree?”

Mo chridhe. My heart.” He leaned his forehead against hers; the tip of his nose against hers. “It means, my heart.”

She took his face, then, her words strong and sure. “You’re more to me than that to me, too; than anything else, anyone else… mo chridhe, Jamie.

[to be continued]

Masterpost: Social Institutions

Whether brand new or based in reality, creating a society is complicated, time-consuming, and stressful. There are always things that you’re probably forgetting, and it’s those things that are going to come back to bite you later on in the series. This is the first in a series of in-depth looks into world-building basics that you’ll need before you get into the nitty-gritty bits.

I’ve [talked] [before] about social institutions, but mostly in a cursory way - now I’ll be digging deep into it, and hopefully this will help clear things up for any of you still in the beginning stages of world-building.

A social institution is a necessary structural component of a society that facilitates a specific, fundamental function within that society. They are also often called agents of socialization, as it is believed that each institution has a unique purpose in helping people learn how to be people in their society. (Keep in mind, this does not mean they learn how to be people in another’s society. Though the social institutions may be the same, they manifest in a variety of ways across societies.) To ease confusion, I will simply to call them social institutions here.

As far as modern Sociology is concerned, there are six social institutions: Family, religion, work, education, media, and government. None of these institutions are mutually exclusive, or work independently of the others - every single one is heavily influenced by the others, even though they each have unique components about them.

Family is the first institution we are introduced to when we’re born. The biological relation isn’t important, nor does it necessarily need to be a positive experience. It is simply the group of people who cares for us, teaching us everything we need to know - language, norms, mores, values, beliefs. These can be taught either explicitly or implicitly. An explicit lesson would be, say, a parent sitting down and telling a child not to lick people. An implicit lesson could be a child watching their parent always cleaning up right after dinner, teaching the importance of cleanliness in their society. Family is our first introduction to the world, and thus it is the most important agent of socialization, shaping how we view and understand everything that comes after.

Religion is an institution whose importance has changed a lot over time. For some, it’s the second-most important institution after Family. For others, it’s fallen down to the least important. It all depends on their family’s relationship with it - if you grow up inundated in a religion, then that will be one of the main ways you learn morals and values, right and wrong. What those morals and values are depends on the particular religion. However, due to the relative recent nature of the separation of church and state, religion will still play a big role in your character’s life if you’re setting your story in the modern age. This is because, most likely, the main religion of a society will heavily influence the policies, laws, and everyday practices of the people in that society.

Education can be the second introduction to society a person has, or it could be one of the last, depending on how the society is structured. In the US, we’re officially put into the education system anywhere between ages 3 and 6. Some places have education-based daycares for younger children, and some societies don’t have any formal education system in place at all. How your society comes at it depends on what that society needs. In our current, post-industrial society, we cannot succeed as adults without some sort of formal education. However, in other societies both now and in the past, they have little need for such a system. Some might instead have an informal education system - children learn how to work as adults by helping their family work, for example. In any case, there will be some form of education, and it will have dual purposes.

One, the education system will give children knowledge that their society has deemed appropriate and necessary. This could be running a farm, basic math, riding a horse, or it could be complex mathematics, multiple languages, and how to fly an aircraft. It all depends on what the society has deemed necessary for children to learn before they reach whatever age that society considers “adulthood”. The ages at which children learn each piece of knowledge is also highly dependent on that society’s beliefs and values - in the US, it’s considered taboo to talk to kids about sex, but in other place, it’s a completely normal topic of conversation.

Two, the education system will give children further knowledge of what is/isn’t acceptable in society. This is done through adults in charge, fellow children, and the material given to learn from. For example, how children learn about their country is through history lessons, which are often heavily skewed to paint their country in a positive light - thus promoting patriotism and ethnocentrism.

The socialization done at Work will depend heavily on the workplace and the job your character has. With every job, there is a process of socialization that teaches everyone their place (employee, boss, middle-management), how to interact with each other based on that place, and how to utilize the materials needed to succeed in the job. Now, in some societies, this work will be things like running a family farm. In others, like our current system, labor is specialized, so we need many people doing different jobs to keep things running.

The Media is a relatively new form of socialization. It is only in the last 100 years or so that it became broadly, easily accessible to everyone - before that, the only people with access to media items were the wealthy, who had both access to education and the free time to sit down and interact with pieces of media (mostly books, maybe newspapers, I’m not clear on the history of the news). Media covers a lot of aspects - books, news, television and movies, and now the Internet. Through the media, we learn what’s important to our society outside of our little bubble of family, religion, and education - we learn about our world in broader strokes, which either reinforces or ruins the lessons we’ve learned from those closest to us.

Government encompasses a lot of sections of society, and may or may not have its hands in every other type of agent of socialization. This agent includes a lot of bits and pieces: Public works, national parks, legal force, elected positions (both great and small), lords and ladies, kings and queens, dictators - so, so many working parts. All the laws and formal sanctions will come from the government, which will then teach children what society values, their morals, etc.

Here’s the kicker about all this: These things teach us how to be people in our society, yes, but the people deciding what to teach us were taught in the exact same way, thus creating the potential for a cyclical system. This is where you get the idea of a status quo - anytime your character thinks “oh that’s just the way it is,” is a direct result of your character’s parents/teachers/government officials also thinking “oh that’s just the way it is.” But, the second someone in your character’s life goes “uh, but it doesn’t have to be,” that will not only have the potential of changing your character’s beliefs, but the beliefs of your characters coworkers, children, partner, etc., which will then have the potential of changing the beliefs of their coworkers, children, partners, etc. This is how we get social change over generations.

Agents of socialization are incredibly important to the function and coherence of a society. No, they won’t all look or act the same way society to society, and you can totally create new ones if you want to, but you will need some sort of system in place to disseminate social beliefs. Remember, a society can’t be a society without a set of rules, morals, values, and norms commonly held by people in that society. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of strangers running around with no common ground to keep them together.

anonymous asked:

Hi. I am someone you like to call an 'anti'. I don't want trouble. Can you show me why I shouldn't believe that Louis is straight?

Let’s forget twitter. Let’s forget Larry. Let’s forget the “girlfriends”. Just focus on HIM and his actions, ok?

(no source for the vast majority of the gif’s, please let me know if you own one, ok?. Oh and LONG POST AHEAD.)

This is my attempt at explaining you or more like showing you with gifs how IN FACT TOTALLY NOT STRAIGHT Louis Tomlinson is.

Tell me this boy is straight…

Keep reading

Birthday Fail // Carlos

Requested- yup

Summary- carlos is trying to make his girlfriends birthday special but nothings turning out like he planned

Pairing- carlos x reader

“What do you mean the horses are sick!?” Carlos whisper yelled to Jane on the phone.

“I-I mean they’re sick, Carlos. I don’t know what else to say, but Y/N can’t have her carriage ride tonight-” She rushed to explain.

Carlos took a deep breath before speaking, “Can’t your mom use her magic or something? I need to do this for Y/N’s birthday, everything is going so wrong a-and I don’t know what else to do..”

Jane pursed her lips, “Let me check something and i’ll call you back, alright?”

The two hung up and Carlos flung himself back onto his bed just as his best friend and roommate Jay walked in, “What’s got you all pouty?”

The younger boy blinked back tears and sat up, “Today is Y/N’s birthday and everything I had planned is ruined. Apparently the restaurant I picked lost our reservation, the band suddenly can’t serenade us because it’s ‘unfair to the other students’ and Jane just called that the horses are sick so the carriage ride is off and-”

Jay cut him off, “Alright first of all, I need you to relax and second of all, you know Y/N doesn’t care about having a perfectly planned birthday. What did she just tell us at lunch yesterday?”

Carlos frowned as he thought of your words, “She said she wanted to relax and for us not to make a big deal about it.”

“Exactly and I know Mal and Evie are giving her some sort of spa day so maybe you can just take her to eat?” Jay suggested before clapping his hands, “I got it! Okay i’m gonna go find Jane, you stay here and get ready.”

Carlos looked at his friend questionly, “For what?”

“Y/N’s birthday date! Pick her up at 8 in Evie’s room then go to the banquet hall. I got you guys covered.” The long haired boy patted his friend on the shoulder before walking out.

Carlos was unbelievably nervous, but nonetheless got ready for your date.


A knock on Evie’s door made you get up from the bed in a hurry, you were both excited and nervous for what your friends had planned.

All the girls told you was to get dressed in something casual yet nice and be ready by 8; so here you were.

Opening the door, you were met by your boyfriend, “Woah, you look-”

You cut him off, “Overdressed?” You looked down at the dress Mal laid out for you.

Carlos hastily shook his head, “N-No! You look amazing, beautiful and just wow,” He breathed.

You could feel the blush covering your face as he held out his hand, “Ready to go, birthday girl?

You took his hand with a smile on your face, “Let’s go.”

Walking into the banquet hall, you both were in absolute awe. Your friends had really outdone themselves. There was a table in the middle of the large room covered with a white cloth, a single rose in the middle and two sets of plates with food. Beside the table, Dude was patiently sitting and waiting for the two of you.

“Did you set this up?” You turned to Carlos who had wide eyes.

He shook his head, “I-I had so much planned for tonight and it all got ruined somehow so I was freaking out and I almost blew up on poor Jane and Jay calmed me down and said he would fix something up and-”

Your giggling made him stop talking, “What’s so funny?”

Closing the gap between you two, you pecked his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck, “Nothing, nothing’s funny. I-I just can’t believe our friends did this for us.” You mumbled as he sighed and hugged you closer to him.

“You really don’t care that we didn’t go on a carriage ride or you weren’t serenaded?” He asked while pouting.

Shaking your head, you grabbed him by the hand and walked over to the table, “Nope. Let’s enjoy this dinner then go back to my room and binge watch something.”

Carlos laughed, “If that’s what the birthday girl wants, then yes.”

You two ate dinner with Dude then like planned, headed back to your dorm and stayed up the whole night watching movies. You didn’t need a carriage ride or anything extravagant like that, as long as you were with Carlos, it was the perfect birthday.

TAGS - @toomanybooksnotenoughsleep , @fireandice-sage , @bekahpaik , @lose-a-fight-to-an-alley-cat , @lahey-trash , @mysticsthinking

This life, part 1

Pairing: Reader x Eventually Loki

Word Count: 2732

Warning: Angst

A/N: This is set just at the start of the Avengers and will take some twists and turns. The story itself will be multiple parts.  I hope you enjoy.

The clash of metal sounded as the blades of your dual swords and Sif’s shield met with loud scrape. It forced her to take a step back giving you the advantage as you twisted around elbowing her in the face then kicking her right knee, sending her to the ground.

“I yield, I yield.  I am done, [Y/N].  I swear by the Allfather I am going to have to see the healers again.” You grinned holding your hand out to her to help her stand.  As she stood, she tested out the injured knee before wiping away the blood left on her lip.

“If we went easy on each other how would that be real training, dearest Sif.”  She gave her half smile as she limped forward.  Sheathing your swords at your hips, you encircled your arm in hers.  “Come now I will help you to the healers if you wish.  But I think ale would make you feel far better.”  

“You believe ale heals all things, [Y/N].”  She raised a brow at you, though she allowed you to help her towards the hall.  You laughed lowering your head.

“It does!  Tell me then, what do you wish?  The healers or the hall for ale?”  Stopping, you turned to stand in front of her, prepared to do whatever she wanted.  Sif looked over your face for a moment before sighing loudly.

“Take me to the damn hall. I do not wish to explain more injuries today.  You are lucky you are as a sister to me, [Y/N].”  Knowing her answer before she said it you grinned resuming your place at her side and walking towards the hall.

“Admit it; you would be lost without me, Sif.  I make your life tolerable.”  The woman merely rolled her eyes as you entered the main dining hall.  Your friends, the Warriors 3, already seated with many mugs of ale all around them.  Volstagg had one of the prettier drink maidens on his lap, telling a tale of your last adventure outside of Asgard.  They group all laughed, most likely at something that were completely untrue.  However, with Volstagg his embellishments made for quite the story.  He looked up to see you and Sif walking towards them.

“Ladies, come come. We have drink and an audience.  It is time to spread the word of our latest journeys.”  He held up two mugs to the both of you before Sif took a seat next to Hogun.  You sat cross-legged on the table, downing half the mug before stopping.

“Allfather that tastes wonderful.”  The group laughed as you got comfortable.  The man continued his tale.  Everyone gathered knew he added to the stories for his own benefit and lessened the role of anyone else who was there.  Several times you spoke up about saving his life a time or two, honestly it was four but who was counting.  There was also the time he had been sent face first into the mud by a well-placed punch to the face.  The celebrating went long into the night.  Sif was the first to head to her chambers to sleep, Fandral not long after. By the time it was just you and Volstagg, he was rather drunk, leaning against his hand.  All of his admirers had left him for the evening.  You were lying on the table staring up at the ceiling, watching the light and shadows from the torches dance.  

“Tell me Lady, why are you so quiet tonight?  You only interrupted half of my stories.  That is not like you.”  The drink was swirling in your head now, perhaps that was why all the old thoughts and feelings were coming back to eat away at you.  You huffed at his question.

“So many things my friend. Right now, it is not important. Have you seen Thor this eve?  He rarely misses the merriment.”  The table you laid upon nearly cracked with the force of Volstagg’s head crashing down on it.  The man had fallen asleep sitting up and so there he fell against the table. You sat up in a flash ensuring he was all right.  That hard skull of his had cracked the wooden table but he looked unharmed.  Somehow, he was still asleep as well.  He must have drank a whole barrel on his own, the idiot.  As you sat up, your head swam slightly.  It was going to make your ride back to your home a long one.  

Your horse knew the way back without any encouragement from you.  He was large enough that most would stand out of his way as he walked through the streets of the city.  It gave you the time to dwell on the thoughts that you should not be thinking.  Perhaps it was time you did something about it. What would it accomplish though? Would speaking your mind earn the respect you wanted or would you end up imprisoned?  Shaking your head of the morose feelings, you dismounted your horse and set him up for the night in his stall.  As you started to peel the leathers from your worn body, a soft knock sounded at your door.  Who could be here at this time of night?

As you opened the door, a mess of blond hair greeted you first.  The head lifted to a face that was lined with heavy thought.  “I wondered what happened to you this eve. Are you all right?”

“May I come in?  We need to speak.”  You nodded giving him enough room to enter.  His large body dwarfing everything else in the room. Eyeing him warily, you sat at the table, he joining you a moment later.

“Thor, what is it?  I hardly see you like this.”  Thor clasped his hands in front of him, unsure of how to begin.

“First I need to ask something of you.”  Canting your head to look at him, growing more concerned.

“You are my prince I have to do anything you ask.”  He frowned at you, shaking his head.

“[Y/N], I am serious. I am not asking as the prince of Asgard. I am asking as your friend, please.” You sat back in the chair, a feeling of dread overtaking you.

“I would do anything you asked, you know that.  You have supported me more than anyone else in my life ever has.  What do you need of me?”  Thor took a long breath, exhaling slowly.

“I have to leave to Midgard, tonight.  Tell no one I have left or where I have gone.  Not until my father asks you.  Promise me.” There was a look of desperation in his eyes.

“As much as I dislike speaking with your father, you know I will do it.  Nevertheless, why now?  Why do you have to go to Midgard?  Is it that woman you love?”  He covered his face in his hands a moment before rubbing his eyes.  As he sat up straight in the chair, he looked at you in a way you had never seen.

“I have to go because of Loki.  He is alive and on Midgard.  He has obtained the Tesseract and plans on taking over that realm.  I have to protect Midgard and all the realms from what he plans to do.”  You jumped up from the table with a cry.

“No!  He cannot be alive.  We saw him… we saw him fall, Thor.  He cannot be…  By the Gods how can he?”  Crumpling to the floor with a scream, the air felt like it had been pulled from your lungs. He got up from the table kneeling next to you, to wrap an arm around your shoulder in comfort.  Everyone had thought Loki had been lost years before.  You, along with, Thor and Frigga had mourned over his death.  Even with the cruel words he said to you before his descent into madness, you mourned the man you knew.  Being born to the Captain of the Defenders of Asgard and his wife, you grew with Thor and Loki in the palace.  They had been your closest of friends all of your days.  From the time you were born until… the incident, you had been promised in marriage to Thor.  You two were to rule and protect, Asgard when Odin passed down his crown.  Growing with them, learning, fighting, everything you did together.  

Just before he was thought dead, he had become cruel and consumed with the quest for power.  He turned from treating you as an ally and friend to treating you as though you were little more than the dirt that soiled his boots.  Even when it was thought that Thor would never return to Asgard.  It hurt more than you could say.  Though Thor knew, he saw the pain at losing your friend. “[Y/N], he is alive.  I have to go he is my brother.  Promise me you will not say a word to anyone.”  As the initial shock wore off, you looked up to him.

“I will not breathe a word. Promise me you will return.  I cannot bear to lose another friend.”  He smiled pushing your hair out of your face.

“If I have not returned in a week’s time come to Midgard to find me.  If I cannot prevent him from setting about his plan, you may be the only one with the powers to do so.”  You nodded as he helped you from the floor.

“At least there are things about me he knows nothing of.  A way to trick the Trickster.”  Thor laughed as you gave him a half-hearted smile.  “Be safe my friend.”  

“Remember seven days, [Y/N].”  He left without waiting for your response.  Not that you had one.  Your duty to your friend took precedence over everything else.  By the Gods, you prayed that he would return before you were called before Odin.  

The Gods did not heed your prayers.  You had been avoiding the palace as much as possible.  As much as you wished to train with Sif and the Warriors, you did not want to give anyone in the palace reason to bring Odin’s gaze upon you.  Three days after Thor’s departure, you had been out in the fields training alone.  You could feel someone coming towards you, even though your back was turned. It was inevitable that someone from the palace was going to find you.  There had just been the hope that it would have been longer.  Turning around to see, Emin, one of the palace defenders coming towards you.  “My Lady, please forgive the intrusion.  But the Allfather requests your presence.”  You laughed as you stabbed both blades into the ground.

“Requests?  Do you not mean demands, Emin?”  Wiping the sweat from your face, you smiled at the fear in the man’s eyes.

“My Lady… please..”  

“All right, I will see to his ‘request’.  You shall live another day in fear of the Allfather.”  The ride back to the palace was silent.  The man next to you feared not only the king but also you.  He knew that which you were capable.  The stable boy bowed in great respect as he took your horse to an awaiting stall.  Emin still followed behind as you walked through the great halls towards the throne room.  As you approached the doors leading towards the throne, Queen Frigga stood awaiting your arrival.  Worry covered her beautiful features, as she walked up to hug you tightly.

“My girl please tell me you are all right.  Tell me Thor is with you.  Odin is furious now.”  You shook your head as you returned the embrace.

“My Queen, I am well but Thor is not with me.  I… if you wish to hear where he is, come with, as I explain it all to the Allfather.”  She looked you over closely searching your eyes for something you were unaware.  Both of her hands cupping your face as she had when you were a child and needed comfort.

“I should be worried now, should I not, my dear?”

“My Queen…”  Frigga sighed releasing your face.  

“Let us face the king then. Come now, [Y/N].”  She turned, looking between the two guards posted at the doors of the throne room.  They opened the door with a bow towards the Queen, allowing you both passage.  Your heart beat out a rhythm in your chest that felt unnatural.  It was not out of fear but something bordering on anxiety.  Frigga ascended the stairs to the throne leaving you at the bottom looking up to the furious king.

“Tell me, Lady [Y/N] why have you just now come at my request?  I sent out word hours ago.”  Anger flared up inside you.  Your fist clenched at your side.  Over the past years and his blatant dislike for you, your temper got the better of your mouth.

“Since, you yourself stated that I am not longer worthy of residing in the palace, your man had to search me out in the city.  Since I am so far from the palace now it takes me a great deal more time to arrive, my King.”  You added a deep bow to the end of your statement for dramatic affect.  Frigga’s eyes flashed a warning down to you.  She wished to keep you safe, but she would be unable to if you said anything too harsh to the king.  Odin said nothing for the moment.  He merely glared at you as he sized up your intentions.

“[Y/N], do you know where my son is?  Where he has disappeared to, that no one can find him.  He left no word.  Is he with you, girl?”  There was a rotten taste in your mouth, hearing him say ‘girl’ as it were an insult. If he wished to know where his son was, so be it, you would tell him.

“Your son, my Lord, is not with me, a mere ‘girl’.  He is on Midgard saving the realm from Loki.  He did not leave word as he knew you would have forbidden it.”  Frigga’s eyes went wide and Odin slammed his scepter on the floor bellowing out.

“Loki is dead.  Do not lie to me, girl.  Where is my son?”  You lifted your chin in defiance.

“I have never lied to you, my King.  You forget I was the one that stood against my own family for you.  I lost everything in my life, because I stood by you, my king. Do you forget everything you took from me as a result?  Yet here I stand, training every day protecting Asgard and all the realms. You call me a liar?  You are no true king.  For a true king would recognize what his subject sacrifices for him.” There were gasps hear from all over the throne room.  No one had ever spoken to the king in such a manner and was not punished severely. Frigga stood there beside the throne crying as she covered her mouth.  News that her son was alive was overwhelming.  Odin sat there quietly once more.  True that no one has spoken to him in such a way in a long time, but the words resonated within him.

“Thor is truly on Midgard… fighting to save the realm from Loki?”  He asked quietly.  You feared what else would come out of your mouth, so you merely nodded.  “Tell me what he said, [Y/N].”  With a long held breath, you explained the conversation with Thor, down to the last word.  Thor would never hold against you, telling the Allfather what you spoke of.  When you were finished, Odin sat there in his own thoughts rubbing his chin.  The Queen walked down towards you, kissed your forehead before excusing herself. She needed time to collect her thoughts and emotions.  You stood in that spot as the king continued his silence.  Not daring to leave until you were dismissed.  Several more minutes passed before he finally looked up. “Thor is right, that if he fails, your powers may be the only ones that can stop Loki.  If he does not return as he stated… you will go.  Prepare as you must and be ready if the time comes.”  He waved you off as he went back into his own mind.  Worry clouding his features just as it had Frigga’s earlier.  

As you walked out of the throne room, your only thoughts were, ‘Thor, please return home safe.’

Part 2 

@feelmyroarrrr  @aquabrie  @bolontiku  @malindacath  @mysteriouslyme81

Rancher!McCree AU - Chapter 1 - Jesse McCree x Fem!Reader

A/N: I received this request a while ago and it took me some time to get up the courage to write and post it. This became sort of self-indulgent. The reader is a woman of color (mixed race) but I still want everyone to be able to enjoy it. This is my first time trying something like this…

This first chapter is just an introduction to the characters and their personalities. I’m expecting this fic to be quite long with lots of pining, stolen glances, etc… Its set in the late 1800s, some time after the Civil War.

No title yet but maybe I’ll think of something or one of you will be able to help me lol.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Words: 2,702
Warnings: racist terms, mention of prostitution

Before your mother died, you had promised her that you would never let anyone own you. You told her that you would never be someone’s slave. She wanted you to be strong, but you could never be as strong as her.

Opportunities for a woman around here were few and far between, especially for a woman of your color. The worst part was, you were hardly accepted by the people you most resembled. See, you are what the people here consider a mulatto, a mutt, or what some people called a house negro. You didn’t ask to be born this way, you just were. You blamed the white man that had his way with your mother for all your hardships. You swore you would never work for a white man and you wouldn’t let one take advantage of you.

Keep reading

thanks vld season 4 for my life

  • blade of marmora keith thanks for my fucking life and kolivan and keith and kolivan and keith 
  • keith choosing the blade of marmora over voltron because he felt like they needed him more and wow just wow
  • the sheith hug and shoulder touches of my dreams and keith getting the group hug he absolutely deserved
  • pidge thinking matt was dead and sobbing in the rain in that graveyard i literally got chills
  • that very fuckable blue alien. you know the one. don’t @ me.
  • pidge realizing matt was alive and finding him and they cried and i cried
  • matt @ allura followed by lance @ matt i gained six levels
  • bih bo bih 
  • bee bo bee zarkon bee bee bo haggar
  • “put him in a tight shirt” that moment when vld Saw my soul and called me out
  • allura playing keith. god. GOD.
  • matt and coran realizing keith was going sacrifice himself and trying to stop him
  • lotor fucking white horsing keith
  • “good work keith” “it wasn’t me.” THEY DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS GOING TO DIE WHAT KINDA WHUMP FIC

anyway, that was so well paced, so funny, so heart wrenching, so surprising, the animation and music were so so so good i’m. i’m. ty whoever sent dreamworks my wish list because this was all of it and more an d i need space h ospital