i might do this with another horse

anonymous asked:

kjdshjf i can't believe you think you draw girls w/diverse body types lmao

I clearly don’t…

You know, you can lmao at me as much as you like, but does it ever occure to you that I….don’t owe you anything? I don’t know you. And funny thing, you seem to not know me as well.

Maybe I am not that great at drawing super varied bodytypes, even though I actually try (you’re very welcome to lmao at me yet again). I TRY. Is it my fault that fandoms I’m in doesn’t seem to have enough diversity? Is it now a bad thing to follow the anime design? Oh. right.

Whenever I made my girls volleyball team ocs and had the chance to give them variety at bodytypes, because I had the freedom to do so, I did so. So what if I didn’t do it as well as you’d like me to? Why do you think I owe you the style or visualisation that YOU’d like to see? I draw for myself, if there are people who like it - it’s great! If there are those who don’t - also great! As long as you guys don’t bully me for not drawing the way you want me to. 

I’m tired of this moral highness you guys seem to carry through every call out and anon message. It seems to be rolling past you that words have consequences. YOU DON’T KNOW me, once again. Nor my mental state, nor my backstory, nor nothing. It also seems to go past you that I *might* be as well another human being with own feelings just like you, and hey, what a great thing it is nowadays to be able to anonymously upset someone! 

You ride your high horse of morality with all the “problematic” things I am doing or not doing, searching for them in everything and feeling so high moral, yet refuse for a second consider that you can talk privately with someone instead of writing vague passive agressive posts or messages. If you want to make a change - good arguments is your key.

Also, a food for thought. You never know when someone you write anon hate or make posts about can be depressed, and when something you said might be the last drop. Consider this.

As for me, no, I don’t have depression and I am pretty stable mentally, but for a future reference and more messages you might write to whoever, think first. 

All best, sorry for the rant, I am just very exhausted and had to let it out. 

Savage Aenir strikes again

(Context: there was me, who plays a bard (Aenir), the DM and the player who plays a paladin who’s also a dragon slayer (Rocley). We were talking about character deaths and how one of our player’s was the owner of all the dead characters. This was right after a session I couldn’t attend.)

Aenir: You gotta be kidding me, Phillipp is dead?!
Rocley: Well, the crazy magic we tried to use to restore his missing limbs didn’t work…
Aenir: You know DM, you didn’t have to make him lose two limbs. The monster rolled quite low (roll=3)
DM: Yet Phillipp rolled a 1. If he had rolled 2 I would have killed another horse.
Aenir: Oh man, that means that right now I’m the only bard in the group! There goes my plans to learn “Again” on my next level up… It seems like you guys always get screwed when either me or Alice aren’t in the group, right?
Rocley: Well, that might be true.
Aenir: You know what, even if DM ends up killing me, I already have my reserve character ready. Tell me, how crazy would it be to have a dragonborn ranger in the group?
Rocley: Wait. A dragonborn? You do know there are 4 dragon slayers in the group, right?
Aenir: Yup.
DM: What are you thinking, Aenir?
Aenir: I just want a character to wreck havoc in the group. And I’ve wanted to play with a dragonborn since I first read about this race.
Rocley: You know that the dragon slayers will go batshit crazy when they realize the ranger is a dragonborn right?
Aenir: Don’t worry Rocley. That’s the intention. By the way, my ranger doesn’t like dragon slayers ‘cuz she has some bad blood with them. It has to do with her past.
Rocley: Oh Fuck!
DM: There we go… savage Aenir strikes again…

Writing Multilingual Characters

Anonymous asked: “Hey Lizard! I have a multilingual character who is constantly switching between languages. Using the phrase “he/she said, switching back to English/Korean/etc” will become repetitive and unprofessional, do you have any advice for me?”

There are so many books that I love where the characters switch between languages all the time. A good number of the books that I love will often unflinchingly just switch into another language, the way the multilingual character might. 

Keep reading

the seal and the swan

Another fairy tale. This one is about selkies and swan-maidens

Just to be on the safe side I’m going to put a trigger warning on this for abusive relationships/domestic abuse.


The selkie and the swan-woman met each other in the market one early spring day.

One was buying food for the household; the other was selling fine woven cloth. Their eyes met in passing and they knew, without exchanging a single word, what the other one was, and they knew that they shared the same sorrow.

The selkie was short and round-bodied, and her skin was warm brown and mottled like a seal’s, and half-hidden under dark curling hair her eyes were like scrying pools, deep and dark and strange. The swan-woman was tall and broad-shouldered and pale, and had hair as fair as swan feathers and eyes that were gray-blue like the sky meeting the sea. The selkie paused, her hand outstretched over the cloth the swan-woman was selling, and they looked at each other.

“What’s the matter with you?” the selkie’s husband demanded in her ear. “You make me look foolish when you go dreaming like that in front of people.”

“Of course,” the selkie said, drawing her hand back. “Forgive me. I was only looking at the cloth.”

“We don’t need any,” the husband said to the swan-woman. To his wife he said, “This is too expensive for us.”

He ushered her away, but she looked back, and eyes of the sea met eyes of the sky, and both understood.

Keep reading

iamafuckingbeast  asked:

Do Steve and Bucky find out about all the things Obadiah told Tony about omegas?

Yes, they do! They find Sarah crying her eyes out and they’re horrified so they ask what happened because Sarah doesn’t cry unless it’s something really bad. They wonder why Tony had betas actively guarding his door during his heat (because when Sarah went into heat she just relaxed in her room, no guarding necessary), and she has always tried to avoid lying to her sons. So she has them sit down because if they stand they might fall. And then she halting tells them what Tony had told her, trying to keep the more personal bits to herself:

  1. Tony believes that the scent of his heat is an invitation and he should hide himself from everyone. If he is smelled and someone forces themselves on him, it is his fault for not being more careful.
    (Steve and Bucky are horrified. No wonder Tony looked so frightened after they decided they’d wait until he was more comfortable with them physically. If they’d said yes, at least he would have been with alphas that liked him. And to think he’d feel it was his fault if he was attacked? Sickening.)
  2. Sex is going to hurt. Always. Omegas were meant to handle pain; that’s why they give birth. It’s also meant to keep omegas submissive. If an alpha is being gentle to keep from hurting you, it means you’re not pleasuring them properly.
    (”What the fuck,” Bucky whispers, clutching his chest, because he’d fooled around with a few omegas before he and Steve married and he never wanted them to hurt. Steve puts his head between his knees and just breathes because he’s torn between rage and the want to cry.)
  3. Wanting sex outside of a heat makes you a slut. Omegas were meant to be bred for heirs. If an alpha wants sex out of heat, that’s his/her right. An omega wanting sex out of heat is disgusting and indicative that they’ll bend over for anyone.
    (”What the fuck,” Bucky whispers again. “Oh my God,” Steve wheezes, because this–this poor omega, he thinks he’s only there to be a fucking–fucking broodmare. And that’s certainly not the case, Tony is an interesting person; to think that someone would consider him less or for nothing more than popping out kids makes him angry.)
  4. Omegas don’t orgasm because they’re only for breeding.
    (”That’s not even true!” Bucky cries, and then covers his face and takes a deep breath. Steve reaches out to touch his shoulder but Bucky just jerks away, needing a moment to gather himself.)
  5. Omegas that masturbate are not good omegas. Their bodies belong to their alphas. Omegas are property.
    (”He’s not–fucking chattel,” Steve snarls, because Tony’s not, he’s a person, he gets a say in what he gets to do to his body. Bucky takes another deep breath.)
  6. Omegas are meant to bend over for the alphas at all times.
    (”No, no, no,” Bucky whispers, horrified. “Why,” Steve says, angry, then growls. “Who would. Why would they make him think. He’s a person.”)
  7. Omegas are trophies. Having hobbies and interests that aren’t reading or needlepoint is frowned upon.
    (“He… he does needlepoint?” Steve asks after a moment, and Sarah nods. “Not that there’s anything wrong with needlepoint,” Bucky adds hurriedly. “I suggested that you might teach him some fencing. And how to ride a horse without being in a side-saddle. He seemed quite enthused by the idea,” Sarah adds. They look at each other, then back to her and nod sharply. Tony can learn whatever hobby he wants. He could learn to weave baskets if that’s what he’d like to do and Steve and Bucky would support him.)
Modern Conveniences

So the idea for this came from one of @freifraufischer‘s herd of anons, and then @sometimesangryblackwoman gave some prodding to get it written. Anyway, post-ep in which Henry sends the other Regina a care package of things from the modern world, and makes the mistake of soliciting suggestions.

A couple weeks after sending the Evil Queen off to a fresh start and a chance at some happiness, Henry writes her a note. It’s mostly to tell her they’re all okay, that they’ve survived the latest peril which has so marked his adolescence. She’d want to know, he thinks. He tacks on a post-script about his grades, fully aware that she won’t be pleased about that, but hey, there was an epic battle going on and a few nights where he was out late saving the world instead of studying algebra. Surely she can forgive him that.

It’s a one-way form of communication, but it’s the least of what he owes her. Every once in a while, he pens another note, telling her about the situation with Violet and how the horses are doing and everything he thinks she might want to know. It’s not enough, but it’s what he can do.

He’s taken little Neal to the park to give Snow and David some time to themselves and is thinking of what to say to his other other mom when he hears what the mothers in the park are saying. Princess Aurora is laughing about one of the first times she used the internet for shopping. “I couldn’t believe it. You just tell it what you want and it arrives! Better than magic, if you ask me.”

“It still comes with a price!” Ashley says, and the women all laugh.

It gives Henry an idea.

The family is having Thanksgiving at the Mills house. It’s the one holiday they all really embraced after the curse was broken—Mom loves to cook, Snow loves to decorate, and Emma loves to eat, so it’s perfect for their quirky little family. The night before, Henry informed them all that he could use his abilities to send things, modern conveniences she might miss, to the other Regina, so if they had any suggestions he was certainly open to them.

The table was stunned for a minute, but soon they were coming up with all kinds of ideas. Before long it devolved into a conversation of the old days in the Enchanted Forest, and sometimes about the things they missed during the year when Henry and Emma were in New York. But on Thanksgiving itself, Emma calls him aside. “Hey, kid, you haven’t made up your magical care package yet, have you?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted to see if there were any more ideas.”

“Right. So this might be a little embarrassing, but trust me, it’s necessary.”

She hands him a slip of paper and walks away. On the note are two items.

Tampons. Chocolate.

For half a minute Henry wants the earth to swallow him.

He shoves the embarrassment as far back as he can and tries to be sensible. Emma’s right, probably—okay, definitely, since he has no idea what this is like and she does. But ugh, he wishes the pen would let other people write down their seriously personal suggestions instead of him having to do this.

Half an hour later, Snow calls him away from football with the guys to the dining room, where she’s putting the finishing touches on the table. “Wow, Grandma,” he says, “it looks great.”

“You think so?” Snow replies. “I keep thinking the flowers are too tall, but I guess not everyone’s as short as me. You’re not even as short as me anymore.”

He grins by way of apology. “So what do you need help with?”

“Oh, I was actually going to give you another idea for the other Regina. I don’t want to embarrass you, but…”

The words aren’t even out of her mouth yet and Emma’s note may literally be burning a hole in his pocket. Why isn’t there ever a sinkhole when he really needs one?

He stammers his thanks and hopes he isn’t blushing.

Dinner is great, even if he can’t quite look a couple of the women in the eye. He stuffs himself on mock-apple pie (Mom’s idea of a joke), and when Mom gets up to wash the dishes, he follows her to help. The others try to protest that she shouldn’t be cleaning up when she did most of the cooking, but she waves them off, knowing she likes things done a certain way.

Henry knows her system, though, so he can help. The others clear the table and let mother and son get to work. As she washes and he dries the china, she says, “There’s something very important you need to add to your list for… the other me.”

Ugh,” he says. “I know, Mom. Emma and Snow both talked to me about this, okay? I know. Chocolate and… the other thing.”

Mom looks at him with this expression, torn between laughter and incredulity. “The other thing? Come on, Henry, the word won’t hurt you.”

The ground beneath him betrays him yet again, refusing to open and put him out of his misery. “Chocolate and tampons,” he mumbles.

With a soapy hand, Mom pats his cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Seriously, he’s going to crawl into a cabinet and live the rest of his life in there as a hermit.

“Have you got a piece of paper?” she asks.


“Good. I want you to write this down.”

“Mom, Emma already gave me a note with this, so it’s not like I’m going to forget.”

“No, I want you to write down the actual brand. These things are not to be left to chance.”

Mortified, he obeys.


In that other place, Regina is between encounters with the angry young king—she’ll bring him around yet, she knows—when she gets a box from her son. It’s thoughtful and kind and makes her heart so full she thinks it must burst. But in the bottom there’s another box, wrapped in brown paper. Henry has scrawled a note on it. They said you needed this.

She laughs so hard when she opens it that she literally falls out of her chair.

My poor little prince, she thinks. You must have wished the earth would swallow you whole.

A Jamie and Claire Exchange

“You know just what I mean, because it’s just what you did! You might have been killed!”

“Aye,” he agreed ruefully. “I thought I was, when the dragoon came down on me. I screeched and scairt his horse, though,” he added more cheerfully. “It reared up and got me in the face with its knee.”

“Don’t change the subject!” I snapped.

“Is the subject not that I’m not killed?” he asked, trying to raise one brow and failing, with another wince.

“No! The subject is your stupidity, your bloody selfish stubbornness!”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that! You—you—oaf! How dare you do that to me? You think I haven’t got anything better to do with my life than trot round after you, sticking pieces back on?” I was frankly shrieking at him by this time.

To my increased fury, he grinned at me, his expression made the more rakish by the half-closed eye. “Ye’d have been a good fishwife, Sassenach,” he observed. “Ye’ve the tongue for it.”

“You shut up, you fucking bloody—”

“They’ll hear you,” he said mildly, with a wave toward the party of Continental soldiers making their way down the slope toward us.

“I don’t care who hears me! If you weren’t already hurt, I’d—I’d—”

“Be careful, Sassenach,” he said, still grinning. “Ye dinna want to knock off any more pieces; ye’ll only have to stick them back on, aye?”

“Don’t bloody tempt me,” I said through my teeth, with a glance at the sword I had dropped.


We’re all sad that Turn is over, but the fandom is not dead. So I decided to make a FAMILY PAGE with all active members of the Turn fandom. That way, it’s

  1. easier for new people in this fandom to have a good overview of all the active blogs
  2. a good way to make new friends, knowing whom to talk to/ fangirl about Turn

I really want to make this happen because I think you all are such amazing people and I never want this fandom to die!


  • reblog this post
  • message me your name/alias, what Turn character you’d like to be and your favorite quote (doesn’t have to be from Turn)
  • follow me! (optional)


okay now there seems to be confusion about this, so I’m going to clarify things:

  1. this is not an exclusive family, everyone who loves turn is welcome to join! <3
  2. the characters are not like, real rp characters. I just use them as icons, so that the page looks aesthetically pleasing. One does not have to play Ben if he’s one’s character. One might as well just use a flower, a hat or hewlett’s horse as icons.

I hope that clarifies things! If you have any question, just message me :)


since the turn cast is not that big, I’ve decided to do have doubles/triples/… that means, if a character is already taken you can still have that character as your icon too! I’ll just use a different picture!

The Good Side of Natural Horsemanship - Tom Dorrance Talks About Horses in “True Unity”


Growing up, I was taught the horse business by my mother, who has always strongly emphasised to me the importance of release, timing, softness, and consistency, as well as human and equine body language. I’ve often been complimented on my soft touch, something that would set me apart from people following more traditional training methods. Dutch tradition is already quite a lot softer than the stories one hears about the “breaking” of horses in the USA’s olden days, but apparently what my mom and I (and people educating themselves via the same channels) did was sufficiently different to warrant comment here and there: Natural Horsemanship (NH) is – still! – in many eyes seen as weird, alternative, ‘too soft’, and so on. Yet despite that, people did give me positive feedback.

Hence my surprise when I, a hapless young adult, joined horseblr, and saw tons of posts hotly debating that NH is wrong, abusive, outdated, etc. I was so confused! For quite a while I shot into a defensive mode, until I started reading up more about learning theory and the advantages of positive reinforcement. I was hooked! I started fairly uncritically denouncing everything NH-ish: “aversives are bad, mmkay?!” And whilst I still agree that dominance theory definitely is outdated and wrong, I’ve also recently started thinking about how I worked with my horses before I discovered clicker training, and I’m once again confused.

Because where on earth did this dominance thing come from in the first place? I’ve called myself an adherent of the NH-movement, but I’ve never personally used dominance as a training concept/foundation. Sure, I’ve called horses ‘dominant’ sometimes, but this was generally in relation to the horse’s behaviour towards other horses. If a horse was badly behaved towards humans, I knew that it wasn’t his fault, but his owner’s, and that it was a problem easily fixed by teaching him some manners. I also did not recognise the accusations (plus proof in the form of eyewitness accounts and video snippets) of abuse and harsh methods from my own experiences in clinics, lessons, and training – wasn’t that exactly what NH was trying to improve in the first place?

Basically, I think that NH has gotten an unfair bad rap in online communities. There are some trainers lumped into this category that I think do not belong there, because they are working against the foundational principles (kind methods, respect (from horse to human as well as from human to horse!), and partnership between man and animal) of the movement. (coughclintonandersoncough) With this in mind I started reading a book by Tom Dorrance, whom you might call one of the founders of the modern NH-movement, and found that the man had a very sophisticated understanding of concepts like flooding, threshold, and the effects of bodily discomfort upon a horse’s behaviour.

As cherry on top of the cake there is no mention of dominance theory to be found anywhere in this book, which leads me to conclude this is a concept inserted into NH at a much later date, and is (imho) not part of the movement’s definition. I’d like to follow up on this idea by reading a book by Tom’s brother Bill, and by seeing if I can get my hands on material from their student Ray Hunt, to see if there is more to be found on the subject.

I’ll be showing you some quotes from this book, along with a page number and context, wherever possible. This book is a bit hard to read: it’s almost like a stream of consciousness, and has a tendency to randomly hop from one subject to the next, only to come back to the first subject several paragraphs on. I would like to assert that the following is merely my own interpretation: Tom Dorrance was a person with a rather philosophical mindset, and that combined with the fact that he is trying to write about the fairly abstract concept he calls ‘feel’ makes multiple interpretations possible. My copy’s ISBN no. is 978-0-9850839-0-8. I will lump together quotes according to subject, not the book’s chronology.

Bold emphasis mine.


These excerpts tell me that Dorrance had a very good understanding of the concept of threshold. He appears to be looking for the signs of when he reached it, and backed off before the horse became completely overwhelmed. Imo this is one of the most important skills to have when training animals.

*about teaching a colt that humans are safe* (10) The colt was wanting to make that contact, but self-preservation wouldn’t quite allow it. He would get to about a certain point – stand there by his mother, kind of uneasy – then he had to go somewhere, you see. Then he would get out way from his mother a little farther, because we were beside her. We didn’t try to do anything; the colt would come back. […] We just waited there, and he came back. Well, each time, the colt felt more secure when he got back.”

(30)“As you are approaching, the horse could be a little bothered; you try to regulate that, you try to ease off a little to where the horse can accept it. It may be just on a teeter, until the horse finds out it’s OK.”

(53) *student* “The first time I met and worked with Tom he really helped me on getting green colts accustomed to having a rope swung on them. He made me realize the fine line one works on as you deal with this introduction to the horse. This fine line realization has helped me hundreds of times with many different situations. I had a colt that was really afraid of a rope. So Tom told me to raise my right hand with no rope in it two or three times. After the colt accepted that, I put one coil of my rope in my hand and did the same thing. The colt then got used to that so I took one swing and put another coil in my loop. The horse moved. Tom stopped me, told me to stop swinging if the colt moved, then start the same thing over again. This colt was really green and didn’t know to move out yet, so I was really accomplishing two things at once. Anyhow, this went on for a while. Finally the colt would stand for one swing, so I went on to two or three. Naturally the colt would move, and here is where the fine line thing comes in. Tom told me to swing my rope twice, then stop, and so on. Pretty quick I could feel the colt get ready to move and I would stop swinging so as to not push him over the line, then start over again. It wasn’t but a few minutes that I could swing my rope until my arm gave out. This made me realize this fine line tolerance and acceptance barrier that a horse and even a man has.”

(104-105) *about a horse that would walk away when mounting* “I asked Susie to just pretend she was going to get on. The horse was preparing to move forward, and Susie stopped everything. Then I asked her to get ahold (sic) of the saddle horn and put a little weight on it and act like she was going to get on; then to put a little more weight in the stirrup, to feel the horse. The horse looked as if he was going to stay there forever and then he got a little teeter – now that is the body language you look for. Before he even moved, the horse was liable to do what he did.//also about body language


Having good timing is also an essential skill - especially so if you work with aversive methods. There are a lot more examples to be found in the book than these two, but I had to make choices for brevity’s sake.

(20) *about the timing of release of pressure* “It is released when the horse is going to yield – that is the time when you ease the pressure, before it happens. If you see that it is going to happen, I’d say you withdraw your pressure before it happens, because if he is starting to do it, and the pressure is still there, it’s in the way of the horse.”

(105) *about horse that would walk away when mounting* “In Susie’s preparation to get on, there were times when it was right to get on; in the next instant that time had gone by and it wasn’t fitting.”

One Size Fits Nobody - Individuality of Horses and Riders

I think where a lot of training and behaviour issues have come from is the plethora of ‘methods’ and ‘plans’ to train animals. For some people and for some horses it will work, but there are just as many for whom it is not right, and often the choice is made based on the owner’s preference, not the horse’s. I like that Dorrance does not stake a brand like so many modern trainers do, and that he emphasises that what may work for one might not work for another.

(12) “There’s such a variation of situations that you can’t say, ‘Do this and you get that.’”

(13) “Sometimes the horse doesn’t seem to understand, but it doesn’t seem to bother him too much. Other horses, if they don’t understand – they get bothered all over. So, there again, it’s the individual variation.” 

(13) “This is what I’m trying to get riders to do, to operate from where the horse is instead of trying to operate from where the rider is.”

(25) “Just because someone seems to be getting something worked out pretty well, another person could try to do the same thing, and it wouldn’t work at all, because he wouldn’t be prepared for it.”

(57) “Each horse is different and it’s all going to take different time and different pressure with each horse, because you are literally dealing with the horses’ minds and they are all just so different. Everyone else is different too. Sometimes some riders just don’t get along with that horse’s mind, with that horse.”

(59) *student* “Then all of us have different feels – and all of us have different ways of thinking. It was kind of tricky for me to pick up my own feel – my own way of thinking – because I would love to be like Tom and I know I never will be, but if I could be a little bit like him my own life would be much softer.”

“(103) You try to analyse the horse and what he needs and work from there, instead of just going out there and trying to do the same thing with each individual horse. They are all different. You are trying to adjust to what the horse needs.”

(112) “I don’t think of it as trying to do it [a method by a trainer, UFS] exact or the same, because there is that difference in individuals. Just think of you as doing it and don’t try to think ‘This is what Tom would do’.”

The Fault Is Not With the Horse

Dorrance emphasises that the fault never lies with the horse. I also like that he mentions that a person ‘might be thinking of it as a takeover’, but the horse thinks he’s doing what he’s supposed to. It would be easy here to fall into the dominance trap, but he doesn’t. He acknowledges that horses and humans are different and that they do not naturally share a common language. Therefore it is not the horse’s fault if he misunderstands what we want him to do: it is the human’s responsibility to make himself understood.

“(9) When I observe people and horses, it often seems to me that when the horse is trying to avoid doing something, or maybe is not doing what the rider asks of him, it is because the horse’s sense of self-preservation is immediately taking effect. This may seem as though the horse does not want to cooperate. But the rider needs to recognize the whole horse: the horse has a basic need for self-preservation.”

(15)”I have helped riders who thought they had a horse problem, but I tell them the horse is having a ‘people problem.’ These riders don’t seem to realize that the horse thinks he is supposed to do just what he is doing; even though the horse doesn’t know why or what it is for. He is sure he is supposed to do it and does all he possibly can to do it. When this is happening, often the rider feels just as sure that the horse is doing what he is doing because he doesn’t want to do what the rider is asking. The rider may completely miss that the horse is doing just what he has been trained to do.”

(16)”The rider can miss the fact that he has trained the horse to do what he is doing. The rider can be thinking of it as a takeover, while the horse can be thinking he is doing OK.”

(74) “Any time I find that I have to use an undue amount of force or pressure my horse gets too upset. I know that I am missing somewhere, not that the horse is misbehaving.”

(74) “The horse may not be doing the thing that is the right thing for what the rider is asking him, but as far as the horse is concerned, he is doing the right thing.”

Less Is More

These quotes are about release and subtle aids. I think they show quite clearly that Dorrance came from the buckaroo/vaquero tradition, where minimal aids are practically elevated to an art form.

(17) *talking about when a horse needs support and when a horse will figure out an exercise on his own* “If the horse is going to make it anyway, these riders don’t get in the way, and that is so important.”

(18) “*about the horse doing an exercise but not entirely correct yet* There is a spot where they [horse, UFS]  don’t really have it all together. This is the spot we are trying to get close to, so the rider can feel when it isn’t there, and be able to feel where the horse needs a little help, a little directing and support and when it is time to just let it happen.”

(20) “When it comes to where the horse is going to do it, then you leave as much up to him as you possibly can, so that he will do it. You are still supporting and directing, but you don’t have to do much once he gets to operating.

(22) *about teaching a horse to back up, but the horse tends to move forward before going back. The rider will then basically let the horse walk into the bit, if I understand correctly.* “As the horse goes up into his pressure that he’s putting on himself, the rider will just wait and the horse will move his feet away from his own pressure. Don’t be in a hurry. You let the horse move his feet. You wait for his feet to move; don’t try to move them. The horse will do that.”

(118) “When the horse felt like he was going to make it, the rider was to ease off. Let the horse do as much as he possibly can without getting lost.

(118) “For a while Joe was trying to do more than was needed on that horse. […] I told Joe the horse almost didn’t need him – but I emphasized that I’d said almost.”

Balance and Straightness

Again, more stuff to be found on this in the books. I like that he talks about this. I think this is a subject lacking in a lot of modern NH-methods, but Dorrance seems to understand quite well how many (behavioural) problems can be caused by a lack of balance and straightness.

(17) “I used to say all there is to it is feel, timing and balance.”

(22) “Straightness in a horse is one of the most important things to keep in mind, right from the time you start riding him. The horse doesn’t have to be straight, especially the first ride. The rider needs to be aware of the importance of where the horse is going to need the help, in order to learn to develop straightness, instead of just going along until something gets established and it gets in the way.”

No Imprinting

I doubted for a while to include this, but since imprinting has become a bit of a fad in some circles, I decided this might be a good thing to point out. Again, more material in the book. It basically comes down to the fact that he wants foals to learn that people are safe, but not in a way that is overwhelming. He wants the initiative to be with the foal.

(31) *about working with foals* “My approach is not so sudden, and there is a time and a waiting for the foal to present itself to me more than me presenting myself to it.”

No Flooding

As well as understanding the concept of threshold, Dorrance seems to understand the damage flooding can cause. Flooding is a big issue in a couple of modern NH-methods, but Dorrance warns against it. There is more about this to be found in the book, but Dorrance talks in rather abstract terms (never knowing about the science behind this concept) and I would have to include too much surrounding text for it to make sense.

(32) “When I’m working with a foal, I try to keep things interesting enough for it, but anytime the foal gets a little unsure and wants to withdraw I back up and take a fresh start; maybe then, or some other day.”

(32) “On these young ones, if they get confidence in the person and themselves, then all a person has to do is watch that he doesn’t destroy it. You will expose them to experiences, and the horse will be able to separate and experience from the exposure and from you. You will be careful that you don’t upset the self-preservation; they measure and they evaluate. The horse can do so many things then by being aware how far he can carry himself on into situations and still be safe.”

Find the Cause, Don’t Treat the Symptoms / Small Steps

This category kind of falls together with the next one [setting up for success]. I think these quotes mostly speak for themselves.

(52) *student* “He [Tom, UFS] told me not to worry about the big problem, just to break it up into small problems – then to work on each small problem. When I solved each little problem I found I no longer had a big problem. “

(62) *student*  “I watched Tom diagnose and cure a tail wringing mare at that clinic. Her rider was instructed where to sit in his saddle – he had been too far back and it annoyed the mare. When the rider’s position was corrected, the mare’s rigid back relaxed and she quit wringing her tail, which had nothing to do with spurs or leg aids.”

(110) “The fellow asked me if I had ever done anything about a horse’s switchy tail. ‘No!’ I said. Seems like if you can find out what is causing the irritation that is causing the tail to move, you can help overcome that problem and the tail will take care of itself. Just forget about the tail and try to figure out what is causing the problem, then work from there. […] People will recognize the symptom but not the real cause of the problem.”

Setting Up For Success

I like the emphasis of trying to anticipate situations so that you can stop a problem before it has even occurred. Again, this is an important skill, especially if you have to rely on aversive methods, however mild,  to correct a problem whilst it is happening. These quotes can also be partially put under ‘timing’.

(106) *about a horse that would buck and take off* “I would have Martha back her, then change directions before the filly could take over. Then go forward before the horse could get set in there – then changed directions. If the filly started to kick up, I would have Martha raise up on a rein that would cause the horse’s body weight to be off balance so the filly couldn’t get in position to get her hind feet off the ground. […] If you can keep the horse moving, keep him from getting his head down and his feet up, and keep him from bracing on you, he has to go. This filly couldn’t do anything but move forward.”//also about timing

(115) “It seems like it is a little hard for riders to even think about trying to do something when everything seems to be going along all right. They don’t realize that is the time to get the horse to feeling with them a little so that by the time they get to this other spot the horse is already occupied, or they have it so they can carry on through.”

(116) “If this young rider had realized the importance of having things arranged before he came to this problem spot, he probably wouldn’t be having a problem.”


This concept, along with ‘feel’ (as I read it, a thorough understanding of body language and threshold as well as soft aids) is the core of the book. Dorrance wants people to realize that horses are living, feeling beings, and not just a tool used for work - remember, in his clinics he more often taught ranch hands than pleasure/hobby riders. This sympathy and empathy directed at the horse will make people think about what they are doing, and thus cause them to be softer in their approach to horses. In 2017, with the vast majority of horses in western society being used for pleasure riding it seems like a no-brainer, but I think that historic context is vital in understanding this book and the impact of the early NH-trainers.

(54) *student* “The reality often is that the rider wants the horse to do something that isn’t his wish, and he sees no real benefit in doing it. Also a reality is the fact that the horse is much stronger than the rider. So there is a need for domination which can’t be domination, but must become a tenuous partnership with mutual respect.

–> I doubted for a while to include this, since the word ‘domination’ will doubtlessly be misinterpreted. Keep in mind this is a student talking about their experiences with him, and considering Tom himself never used that word in this book. The final part of the sentence is vital: the respect must be mutual, not one-sided from horse to human.

(75) “If the horse or I am uncomfortable, I am missing somewhere.”

(108) “It is the person’s responsibility to see that horse, to see where the person can help the horse on different things. […] You have to arrange it so the horse is first – his naturalness, his self-preservation.”

(76) *student* “Tom suggested that the colt and I would be more comfortable if I found something to stand on while mounting. As I look back, I realize that these suggestions represent one of the keys to what Tom does with a horse. Every attention is given to making the animal comfortable, from adjusting the stirrups to finding a way to mount without pulling the animal off balance. When the animal is comfortable, he is better able to do what the rider wants in a way that is also comfortable for the rider.”

(116) “This was a horse that was real scared inside. It was terrible that the horse got in that situation. Finally he began to realize what we were offering him was real, that it could be. There is a big responsibility to not destroy that. I told the group that horse needed lots and lots of petting. He has found out for the first time in his life he doesn’t have to be scared. Usually when a horse begins to understand this, he takes the better way. But that’s a real delicate situation. If the person doesn’t understand it, when the horse is starting to find it, he can destroy what he’s been trying to help the horse do. So many times people do that!”

(117) “You accompany the horse first, then you get him to accompany you; then you accompany each other. That is the unity. You are one. Wherever you go, you are one.”

(126) “Riders need to realize sometimes that horses need soothing, cuddling and comforting. Sometimes that isn’t too bad for people either. They can use that a little bit, too.”

(126) “Sometimes a horse would like to do the training; he gets to calling the shots.”

–> I was uncertain as to whether he meant this as a bad or a good thing: it was included in a chapter with ‘important insights’ which were just one or two sentences without context. However, because of his emphasis on teaching the horse to think and not be a mindless zombie, and because I think he would have included an additional statement if he thought this was a bad thing, I am choosing to read this at face value. This is a massive contrast to the idea of ‘respect’ (aka mindless obedience) of later NH-trainers.


Quotes without clear category that I personally found interesting and/or thought-provoking.

(111) “The horse got so the curve of his body was fitting the curve the person was traveling.”

(103) “The horse seems to come together and the four corners are complimenting each other, instead of each corner operating as an individual.”

–> I love this. After thinking some about this I applied it to my riding a couple days ago. Whilst it did not magically improve anything, it made it easier to feel where the problem was and I could then go and support the horse with aids to get the out-of-frame limbs back into the whole, so to speak. Especially useful in lateral movements.

(112) “It almost looked like the rider had the horse’s feet in his hands.”

–> Dorrance talks a lot about moving the feet, and teaching the horse to position the feet for optimum calibration so that they can immediately take off into the right canter lead, for example. In a clinic by a guy who grew up in the vaquero tradition, I was told that he felt it was a useless exercise; in his work he’d have no time to keep check of the horse’s feet. Whilst I understand the mindset, I think Dorrance wants to teach the horse this so that he can be more efficient at his job. If you dry practice this without cattle, it’ll basically become muscle memory to both rider and horse, requiring no thought at all in the middle of the action.

(122) “A horse has to learn, just like a person.”

(128) “The thing you are trying to help the horse do is to use his own mind.”

(130) “A lot of people get along pretty well with their horses until they go to training those horses.”


The purpose of this post is not to wax lyrical about Natural Horsemanship. What I do hope is that it will nuance the debate some. Dominance theory is not an inherent part of the movement. Neither is it a fundamental concept to use methods based on the behaviour of wild horses. These ideas are later additions, whose non-scientific nature should not be used to condemn everything under the NH-umbrella. What Tom Dorrance has presented in this book is a responsible and respectful way of working with horses through negative reinforcement, in a manner that is not physically or psychologically damaging to the animal.

Perhaps it is time to have a wider debate about the definition of Natural Horsemanship. Some trainers, which are currently grouped under this umbrella term, do not really fit in this category. I think there is an evolution (and/or degeneration) going on with these methods, and we need to come up with a new vocabulary to be able to debate the subject in a more nuanced manner. If there is interest, I am willing to make a more comprehensive post on this train of thought, but for now I will end here.

through blue. i

good afternoon everyone! as promised here is (finally) the first installment in the latest series i will be posting here on tss, through blue! blue will be a series of one shots (or, for larger scenes, small ‘parts’) all from jamie’s pov. i am currently accepting suggestions for scenes both here on tss and on my main blog, @cagedbirdsong, so feel free to send them in! i am accepting both scenes from the book series and television show. 

i am also accepting prompts for scenes we didn’t get to see! feel free to send in requests for any scenes you wish we had gotten as well. :)

without further ado, the first part of through blue: the scene where jamie falls off his horse. as requested (and inspired) by my other lovely kilt kult ladies! this chapter, in particular, is for my tumblr mom @kaitrionabalfe (aka @mibasiamille). i love you lots 

Roadside Revelations 

In hindsight, perhaps the whiskey had not been the best idea. His shoulder was hurt bad enough, and a full night and day of riding had done him no good. His shoulder had nearly come out of place again twice, by his count, and the gunshot wound he had suffered was troubling him something horrid.

Come to think of it, between the exhaustion, pain, and adrenaline coursing through him - not to mention copious amounts of whiskey - Jamie Fraser was starting to feel well and truly wretched. He gave a small grunt as his vision swam and blinked hard, trying to clear his head.

It didn’t help.

Keep reading

For the love of Jai, a very, very serious crack-fic (seriously, it´ serious)

A little treat for Halloween! Inspired by a post you can find here and here,  inspired, emotionally supported and edited by my one and only muse @beautifulramblingbrains , whose name is just coincidently sounds almost like our protagonist here. (A coincidence, nothing more. You hear me?) Have a spooky Halloween and fun with this 25 page-long monster. (Yeah, I´m that insane.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own, depraved brain that came up with this shit. And Janie. Janie´s mine. 

I´m tagging all of you guy´s who I think might be interested, if not, ignore it :D

@pathybo, @iammarylastar, @b-j-d, @vitaevandal, @murmelinchen, @spiteandalice@equalstrashflavoredtrash, @captstefanbrandt, @tigpooh67

Now I´m off to do another Nanowrimo… yay.. :D 

Our protagonist, Janie, wished for a man. He should be strong enough to chop the firewood and brave enough to kill all the spiders, precise enough to hit his target even though it was over five meters away which would make him the king at playing darts in the local bar. He should also be fun, someone you can steal horses with, who wasn’t afraid of the law but sensible nonetheless. After all, she wanted someone she could spend a nice evening on the sofa when the snow was falling outside, the crackling fire warming the room while they drank wine from sophisticated glasses.

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Photographs - Part 7 - The Singapore Skybar

Fic Masterlist! 

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 756

“I’m hungry,” Dan whined as they walked through the airport. 

“So am I,” Phil panted. “We’ll go to lunch once we drop our stuff off at the hotel.” 

They pushed the door open to the taxi circuit, giving Dan another reason to complain. “It’s so hot outside!” Dan could practically feel his hair poofing.

“Technically, I believe you’re reacting to the humidity.” 

“Shush. Let me be hot.” 

Phil rolled his eyes as the two somehow managed to catch a cab. In such a busy city as Singapore, you’d think it would take ages, but they must have just gotten lucky. The traffic, however, was not as simple. Their hotel was only a few blocks away, as the city was very small, but it took them half an hour to get there. When they finally got out of the taxi, Dan couldn’t help but gaze up at the building. “This place is huge.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

“There’s three buildings here. Which one do we even go in?” 

“Let’s just try this one.” And so they took their luggage and walked in. Their room, of course, ended up being in the last building they tried. At least they made it eventually. They dropped their suitcases in the room and Dan almost immediately dashed back out, rocking back and forth on his feet and waiting for Phil. 

“Come on! I told you I’m hungry.” 

“Hold your horses; I’m coming.” 

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” 

“Let’s go. Maybe you can find a place here where you can eat horses. They terrify me anyway.” 

Dan gave Phil a look. “I don’t think that’s how Singaporean culture works.” Phil simply shushed them and they took off down the block. 

“Do we know where we’re going?” 

“Of course,” Phil said confidently. He pulled up a map on his phone, gazing up at the skyline for the buliding with the skybar they were headed to. “I think we might need a cab.” 

After another half hour stuck in traffic, they were finally dropped off at the huge building. “Why do we always have to go to skybars?” Dan asked. 

“It’s tradition!” Sighing, he followed Phil into the building. They caught an elevator up to the top floor and exited into a bustling restaurant. The scent of steak and potatoes filled Dan’s nostrils, making his stomach growl. 

“Thank goodness we’re finally where the food is.” They sat down an outdoor table and ordered, and it wasn’t until he glanced around the skybar that Dan realized how long it would be until their food was ready. “Guess it’s time to wait another hour.” 

“Sorry. Let’s just take in the sights.” Phil stared off into the distance, admiring both the city and the ocean surrounding it. Across the channel, they could see their towering hotel, a ferris wheel, and a modern bridge structure. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” All Dan could do was nod. “Picture?” 

And so the two of them posed against the railing so that their hotel was in the shot and Dan held up his phone. “Not gonna lie, I’m mildly terrified of dropping this.” 

Phil wrapped his arm around Dan’s back as he prepared to snap the picture. “Don’t worry; I’ll hold you steady.” Although he was already hot and sweaty, Phil’s touch sent a different type of warmth through him. Instinctively, he bit down on his upper lip, snapping the picture. 

“Oh… That’s not a good one…” But Phil was already back at the table. 

“Look, Dan! The waiter brought bread!” Rolling his eyes, Dan pocketed his phone and sat down. 

The two had a pleasant lunch as they watched the sun climb the horizons and position itself directly over them. “We’ve got a whole town to see, my dear. Are you ready to go?” Phil extended a hand to Dan, who graciously took it. 

“I sure am.” They made their way to the elevator and walked in for the long ride back down. 

“Hey, Dan; do you want to post that picture we took at the skybar?” 

Dan pondered this for a moment, remembering his lip bite. “It’s not the best picture, but I could.” 

“Go for it. We want to give them something from day one.” Dan composed an Instagram post, allowing it to post to both Twitter and Tumblr. He put his phone away as the elevator door opened, stepping back out into the humid, Singapore air. Phil was right. There was a huge city out there to see, and he was ready to enjoy his damn vacation. 

  • Jesper: I have been banned for my lifetime from Lake Ontario. Don't ask.
  • Wylan: Okay, what else do you have?
  • Jesper: My fear of pears. And pear shaped people.
  • Wylan: Okay. That's interesting. I'm not convinced I know how to read, I've just memorized a lot of words.
  • Jesper: The doctors say I might grow another 18 inches.
  • Wylan: That's a different image of you, but I'm gonna get past that, and I am past it.
  • Jesper: Okay this is good, let's keep going.
  • Wylan: I believe that horses are from outer space.
  • Jesper: I believe that, too!

Barely Enough

OKAY. YOU ASKED FOR IT, I WANNA READ IT, SO LETS REQUEST SOME WHISKEY SMUT! I don’t even know what to request, but Agent Whiskey is clearly a very self assured, cocky dude. So maybe Whiskey x female reader who he meets at a bar, they bond over rope and whip innuendo and he takes her back to his place for ropes and whips galore!

A/N: Being from Kentucky, I had such pride watching this movie. Just saying. Also, I am so sorry this thing is so long! I got carried away. Enjoy!

The bar wasn’t as lively as it normally was on a Friday night. You had just gotten back from a horse show, your lasso sitting beside you in another bar stool. After a tough loss, a strong alcoholic drink would hit the spot.

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like you-”

“Doing in a place like this? C'mon, honey, find a better line. This ain’t mommas first rodeo.”

“Obviously not. I can tell by the lasso sitting beside you. It’s a little worn down, kinda like you. Can I buy you a drink to make up for my terrible, yet fantastic, pickup line.”

“It might makeup for something.”

“What’ll you get, darlin’?” He asked.

You thought, then smirked. “Gimme a Whiskey.”

An hour later and several shots of whiskey later, you learned a lot about him. His girlfriend and unborn son had died during a robbery between two meth heads and a convenient store, caught in the crossfire. His name was Jack Daniels (How fitting), an agent for the Statesmen. He went by the code name Agent Whiskey.

“So, Whiskey,” you said. “You play with a lasso and a whip?”

“Well, sweetheart, it’s one of my many talents. You’re a rodeo gal, you rope horses. Mm. I don’t know what it is about ladies and ropes, but I like it.”

“What made you get started in the Statesman?”

“Obviously, the whip, darlin’. It’s my pride and joy.”

“What all can you do with that whip, Whiskey?” You challenged, bringing your glass to your lips.

Whiskey moved closer, a smirk crossing his lips. “Id have to get you alone for that, sweetheart. Holler at me anytime, I can give you a show. Don’t make me have to come get you now.”

You leaned toward him, the alcohol buzzing through you making you brave. You nibbled his ear. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey.”

He chucked lowly. “I won’t have to threaten you, darling, cause you’ll be begging before the night is over.”

You smirked at him, using your lasso to bring him closer. “You’re pretty arrogant, Whiskey. Why don’t you put that smart mouth to good use and make me beg.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. C'mon, sweetness. Let me show you a good time.”

Moments later, you were in his vehicle, leaning over the console nibbling and kiss his neck. You just wanted to drive him crazy a little. His hands gripped the steering while as you moaned intentionally into his neck.

“You’re gonna be in some major trouble, little lady. You better cut the games,” he said, his voice strained. You rubbed his hand across his chest, trailing down his stomach.

“Mm, I’d like you to punish me, Whiskey.”

That’s when Whiskey pulled the vehicle onto the side of the road. Putting it in park, he leaned across the the console, taking your mouth in a heated kiss. He placed one of your legs over the console, the other spreading where it was positioned in the floor. He rubbed your clothes clit furiously, causing you to moan and whimper. He kissed down your neck, reaching your chest, rubbing harder. You felt pure pleasure and then nothing as Whiskey pulled away. He put the vehicle in drive, pulling back onto the road.

“I hate you,” you said, panting.

“Thats what you get. I told you to cut the games, darlin’ and you didn’t. You don’t wanna test me.”

You sat in silence, feeling torture between your legs. You looked over at Whiskey, he looked fairly calm but the erection that strained against his jeans told you otherwise.

“I think I’d like to test you, Whiskey.”

He threw you a glance, taking a deep breath. You continued.“I would like to see how you could torture my body. I’d like to see you sweat, see you go down on me. Would you like that, Jack?”

He hummed, trying not to pay any attention to you. You leaned back up to his ear. “Would you like use that whip of yours against me?” You whispered. “Would you like to tie me up with your lasso?”

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna be into a world of trouble if you don’t stop running that pretty mouth of yours,” he leaned his head over, keeping his eyes on the road, taking your mouth again. Pulling away, he slid you back over to other side.

Once you had made it to Whiskey’s house, he parked the vehicle and opened the door for you. He escorted you to the front door without so much as laying a finger on you.

You looked around at the inside, your breath taken as you noticed how posh and tidy everything seemed to be. You instantly walked toward the balcony that was lined with white lights. Whiskey took of his jacket, eyeing you as you opened the glass doors and stepping out.

You completely forgot about what you had came back to Whiskey’s house for. You stared out into the fields that lay in front of you, seeing a very small portion of the Statesman headquarters.

Whiskey pressed his chest against your back. His hands trapping you as he placed them against the bannister. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Very. It’s incredible, Jack.” You turned to face him, still trapped by his arms. “You know, I’ve never met anyone like you, Whiskey.”

“Me neither,” he said, his face inches from yours. “I’m quite the catch, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes. “What did your girlfriend think of that behavior?”

With that, Whiskey took your mouth in his, passion radiating through his body. He cupped your face with one hand, using the other to grip your hip and bring you closer to him. You wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him hard.

You moaned, panting when you pulled away just enough to feel his breath on your face.

“You know how you said that I was going to be in a world of trouble?”

He nodded, still panting slightly.

“Does that offer still stand?”

Whiskey smirked, trying to figure out what kind of woman he was working with. He placed you up on his hips, taking you into his house. He peppered your neck with open mouthed kisses as he walked up the stairs. Your gasped as he bit down onto you.

He sat you down once inside his bedroom. Whiskey let his hands trace down your curves, wanting to feel the fire beneath his fingers. You brought your fingers to his button up, desperately wanting to see him without it.

You attacked his chest, wanting to taste every inch of him. You slowly began moving down to his navel. Whiskey tossed his head back, letting out a soft sigh, his hands gripped your hips harder.

Whiskey pushed you back, making you fall onto the bed. He ripped your shirt from the middle, making you thrust your chest up to him. He kissed the top of your breasts, taking off your bra. You raked your fingers through his hair.

You whimpered as he took your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue, using his hand to grip the other. Pushing himself away from you, he grabbed his lasso from the floor, wrapping it around the bedpost to where you were bound to it.

“Whiskey,” your whimpered.

“Shhh, darlin’,” he ran the butt of the handle of the whip down your stomach. “I told you you’re in a world of trouble.”

He hooked his fingers around your jeans and pulled them down, ripping your panties like he had with your shirt. You groaned at the sounds. Whiskey held down your hips, shoving himself between your legs before shoving his tongue inside. You squirmed at the sensation.

Whiskey never would have told you but he was insane for you too. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman since he girlfriend died. He sucked against your folds just to hear those soft moans coming from your mouth. He could feel you grinding your hips, your body trembling against his. He pulled back, giving a bite to your inner thigh.

He crawled back up to you, laying on his side beside you, taking his index finger and running it down the valley of your chest, down your naval, between your legs and back up. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I know I can give it to you. All you gotta do is tell old Whiskey what you want him to do,”

He latched his lips to your neck, sucking and blowing on the spots he began. He gripped your breast again. Whiskey placed his mouth to your face, you were able to feel his breath against you, his member against your leg.

“Just tell me what you want.”

What Whiskey didn’t know was that the knots in the lasso were loose and you had been able to wiggle your wrists out of it. You lunged at him, taking him to the floor. You both rolled on the ground, wanting dominance against the other. You pinned him, only because he let you.

Your lips roamed his chest, his neck, grinding your hips as you did. You grabbed both sides of his face, licking s kissing every inch of it. Nothing felt more satisfying than hearing him moan beneath you. You noticed he had relaxed, so you moved down his legs to the jeans he still had on. You slowly unbuckled them, feeling his hips jerk against your hands. You slid them down and off, his underwear to follow.

You smirked at his expression, his hooded eyes, shallow breathing. You licked a stripe up his member, kissing the tip. You gently messaged the base, taking the rest into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, upping your speed as you heard him moan your name like a broken record. He placed his hand onto your back, rubbing circles, giving your bottom a sharp slap. When you felt him twitch against you, you pulled away. He moved your hair from your face.

He roughly grabbed your arm. “You think you’re funny, don’t ya, darlin’?”

You smirked at him. “Wipe that grin off your face. I’d say your in more trouble than what you started with. Lay on your back, don’t make me tell you twice.”

You felt nothing but a pure burning passion flaring up in your core. You did as he said, laying on the floor. You couldn’t tell what he was doing since your body was laying in the different direction, but you knew exactly what was going to happen when you felt that whip slither down your back and over your legs.

“I think you deserve a little whippin’, don’t you? You’ve been awful rude to me, sweetheart, and I just wanted to see what you wanted me to do. Maybe if I run this whip across this beautiful behind if yours, you might shapen up a little bit.”

Needless to say, you weren’t prepared for the sharp sting that flooded your backside. You yelped, your hips going up. Whiskey gave three whips, each snap and sting harder than the rest. Your whole bottom throbbed, tears slid down your face. As much as you were aroused, you were also fairly sore.

Whiskey sensed this. He wrapped his arms around you, placing you into his arms. He held your trembling body as he kissed down it again. He picked you up, laying you on the bed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, darlin,” he whispered. “I’m going to lay you down now, no ropes, no whips, just me making the most passionate love to you.”

He spread your legs, kissing your inner thigh, messaging the calves. He kissed your hips, licking your navel. You wanted to do nothing but moan his name. This man was driving you insane. He placed both legs around his hips as he slowly began thrusting into you.

You arched your hips, hissing at the contact. “Whiskey, please. Please.”

There it was. The begging Whiskey had predicted. He smirked at you, driving his pelvis into yours. You felt like heaven to him, beneath him, moaning for him, your body entangled with his. When you finally asked him to go faster, he leveled himself over you, his hands resting just above your head so his head could bury into your neck.

His hips felt as though they could break, his let out a strangled moan as he felt you clench around him. You wrapped your limbs around his body, your nails digging into his shoulders. Your core was flooded with pleasure, pure fire as you trusted your hips to meet his as you finally spilled over.

Whiskey continued his sloppy thrusts as he held you tight to him. He moaned your name several times, sweat coating his forehead as he finally felt release.

He leaned over you, kissing your face, your neck, your chest again before finally pulling out and laying beside you. He ran his hands up and down the curve of your body.

You saw him smirk; you knew why. “I told you I could get you to beg, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Whiskey, you did. What’s your prize?”

He chucked. “I already got her, but I am gonna have to take care of those whip marks I left. We need to get cleaned up. You can give me my prize in the shower.”

You got up and followed him. But just before shutting the door, you gave him a quick slap to his backside. Hey, two could play at that game.

Animorphs Wicked


Part 2 of my mad ramblings about Animorphs, Wicked, and Cassie/Rachel. (Part 1 here.)

March of the Witch Hunters
All things considered, Cassie’s not that surprised to open her door one day eighteen months after the war ends to find Marco standing on her front doorstep.  “You heard?” he asks hoarsely.  

He’s drunk, Cassie registers with an unpleasant jolt.  Or in shock.  Or… something.  He’s definitely swaying on his feet, a little cross-eyed.  “It’s not your fault,” she says.

He wipes the back of one hand across his face in a harsh motion, even though there are no tears on his face.  “You opening a conversation that way doesn’t exactly make a guy feel better, you know.”

The news—if it can even be called that—was all over the TV this morning.  ANIMORPH LOVE TRIANGLE? the Daily News screamed, recycling other sources’ work as usual.  Some enterprising young carrion-feeder at CNN was the one who pulled together over a dozen clips of Marco talking about Rachel, edited in such a way that they imply a very specific picture: one in which he’s in love with Rachel and ragingly jealous of Tobias.  The implication that Rachel was sleeping with them both screams from between the lines of harsh black print.

When Cassie faces the press conference that afternoon, her hands are still shaking with anger but her chin is high and her voice is level.  “How dare you?” she demands.  “How dare you pick the one person who’s not still around to defend herself and decide that she’s your latest piece of scandal?  Is that supposed to make you feel better about yourselves?”  Rachel might not be around to defend herself, but Cassie will defend her far beyond death.  She doesn’t care how long it takes, she will personally take every single reporter who repeated this news to court, and she will sue the pants off them all.  

No Good Deed
Cassie was sitting on one of the low ridges of the canyon wall above the hork-bajir valley, doing her utter best not to cry, when she saw Jake and Rachel approaching her at top speed.  She took a breath to brace herself for whatever was coming.  Ax had already called her a traitor to her face today.  Marco had demanded to know what she was thinking, letting the yeerks take the morphing cube, and had responded to her answer with an ice-cold “That’s not good enough.”  Jake wasn’t talking to her at all.

As Cassie scrambled to her feet, she registered that Rachel was dragging Jake by the arm.  They both jerked to a stop a few feet away from Cassie, and Rachel released Jake to cross her arms over her chest.  “To paraphrase the stupidest cousin I have in one of his rare moments of insight,” she said, “I don’t care what your problems are.  We have zero time for your self-pity.  So you two deal with this.  Right now.”

Jake mumbled something, staring at the ground.

“That’s not necessary,” Cassie whispered.  “What I did—”

“Is not the shittiest thing any of us has ever done, or even anywhere close to the shittiest,” Rachel said.  “You made a bad call, yeah.  We’re paying for it.  But the thing to do now is to stop beating yourself up and start trying to fix it.  Jake’s sorry he’s been a total jerk to you, by the way, and he’ll never do it again.”

Jake jerked his head up to stare at Rachel, mouth halfway open.

“Look,” Rachel said.  “It sucks that we lost the morphing cube.  It sucks that the yeerks know who we are now.  It sucks that we lost your parents, that…”  For the first time her voice wavered, just a little.  “That my dad’s a controller by now too.”  She jabbed Jake in the chest.  “None of that is an excuse for pretending Cassie doesn’t exist.  So I’m not asking you two to, I don’t know, get back together or anything.  I’m asking you to suck it up and deal with what we’ve got in front of us like freaking adults.  Okay?”

They looked at Rachel, and then, more slowly, at each other.  At the same time, they nodded.

Cassie grumbled pretty much the entire five hours that she and Rachel spent at the mall picking out dresses for Marco’s dad’s wedding, but to tell the truth it was more reflex than genuine annoyance by then.  Once upon a time she’d have pulled her own hair out rather than willingly walk out of dressing room after dressing room to twirl around in silly skirts and sillier tops while Rachel eyed her critically, and yet…

And yet their friendship had grown to something deeper, more complicated, hard and battered as steel, over the course of the war.  To the point where Rachel’s mere presence was a comfort to Cassie’s ever-racing mind, no matter what they happened to be doing at the time.

And yet Cassie knew why Rachel was spending so much time on this.  It was the same reason Jake had actually taught himself how to tie a half-Windsor, the same reason Tobias had been drilling Ax in how to make small talk like a real boy all week long.  They all desperately wanted to be the best versions of themselves for Marco, knowing the special hell the wedding day would be for him.  This—weird accessories and all—was Rachel being kind and considerate for a friend.

And yet every time Rachel smiled as Cassie pushed through the curtains, or murmured “beautiful, beautiful” as she twirled in yet another ridiculous dress, Cassie felt her heartbeat speed up.  Every time Rachel’s clever fingers adjusted a strap or reached up to tuck an ornament into Cassie’s hair, Cassie felt the tingle of pleasure over every inch of her skin.  

Defying Gravity
Cassie shuts her eyes and rubs at them, doing nothing to assuage their grittiness.  The Capitol Building is crowded as always with aides and tourists, but even this flow of strangers is preferable company to the man whose meeting she just left.  Cassie’s here to sign a deal with Beelzebub to keep them out of the hands of Satan, and she knows it.  The American voting public wants the hork-bajir put on a spaceship and sent “back where they came from.” Her would-be sponsor, on the other hand, has money, and power, and he wants a halfway measure: the hork-bajir would live on reservations (internment camps, a small nasty part of Cassie suspects) but they would be allowed to stay on Earth and given as many trees as they could possibly farm.  He might dress his proposals up in pretty language, but Cassie knows what he thinks: that the hork-bajir are animals, and animals should be seen and not heard.

If you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu.  He’s used that phrase more than once, every time she objects to his business contracts, his under-the-table dealings, his blatant flaunting of American tax codes to make a profit for himself.   How will she ever tell Toby?  She’s not giving up, not really, but if they fight to stay free and lose… If they keep insisting on an ideal solution instead of a compromise… It could be so much worse.  This man could protect them, assuming he keeps his word.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” says a slow Texas drawl.

Cassie opens her eyes.  The man standing across from her is clearly a tourist, wearing a t-shirt with a familiar bald eagle across the chest, emblazoned with the words What Would Rachel Do?  Cassie feels a chill go down her spine.  She knows the answer to that question.

“Yes,” she says.  “Where did you get your t-shirt?”

He looks confused, but starts describing a shop a few blocks down from the Mall.  She’s desperately afraid, but she can feel herself smiling all the same—she’ll have to get one for herself.  It’ll be a good totem to have in the fight ahead, because she’s about to tell the most important corporate developer in the country to shove his internment proposal where the sun doesn’t shine.

Dancing Through Life
They were sitting around in her barn as they had thousands of times before, but this meeting was anything but typical.  It was just her and Jake and Ax—the others were all out playing keep-away with David.  Maybe losing.  Maybe dying.  After all, they’d nearly lost Jake and Tobias both last night.

Let my heart harden, Cassie thought.  Let everything that is soft and delicate and easily damaged about me drain away, and let only anger and resolve replace it.  Give me the strength to do to David that which must be done, because god help me HE HURT RACHEL.  She wasn’t sure if she was praying, and if so to whom.  

All she knew was the sudden longing in herself to be Marco: ruthless, careless, carefree, callous.  To barrel her way through the coming days with an inappropriate joke on her lips and a world-loathing smile in her eyes.  She didn’t have it in her, but this cold-burning rage (he wanted to own Rachel, that disgusting little toad, she would make him pay, she would make sure he never got to see another day) suggested that she might be able to learn.

“I know how to handle this,” she said at last.  “All we’ll need is a Coke bottle and a couple blue Legos.”  

As Long as You’re Mine
“What are we doing?” Rachel demanded, burying both her hands in her hair like she was trying to yank it out by the roots.  “Aliens landed in the middle of town last night, apparently more aliens are already here—Cassie, you just turned into a horse.  A HORSE!”

“Yeah.”  Cassie smiled, remembering what it had been like to sprint all-out across an infinite pasture, but then she sobered.  Rachel was right.  The andalite from last night had already died.  More people would die too, if the yeerks had their way.  This wasn’t a game, nowhere close.

“I just… I’m so angry at the yeerks.”  Rachel balled up both her hands.  “I want to kill them all for what they did.  But at the same time…  Cassie, are we nuts for even trying to fight back?”

“I think this is too big for us,” Cassie said slowly.  “I think we’re just kids, and…”  She took a deep breath.  “Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?  Even if we choose not to act, we’re still making a choice.  We can’t go back, no matter what we do, now that we know.”

“If I choose to fight, you’ll be there with me, right?”  Rachel’s voice sounded uncertain for the first time.

“Whatever we decide, we do it together.  If you’re out, I’m out.  If you’re in… Then I guess I’m in.”

Rachel threw her arms around Cassie in a quick, impulsive hug.  “If we’re in this together, nothing really bad can happen to us.  You and me, girl.  There’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”  

Ten years pass with a speed she could never have imagined.  Ten years since they lost contact with the Rachel somewhere in Kelbrid space, and it felt like losing her all over again.  Nine years since a well-meaning sculptor erected a statue of the five dead Animorphs in downtown L.A., including (Cassie couldn’t help but notice with morbid amusement) room on the plinth for a sixth figure.  Eight years since, at age twenty-one, she became the youngest governor California had ever elected.  Seven years since she married Ronnie; four since she divorced him.  Thirteen years since she lost Rachel.

She’s leaning on one of the supports of the Golden Gate bridge, 700 feet in the air where only people who can turn into birds in their search for privacy can ever go, watching the fireworks over the harbor with bittersweet fondness.  It’s a long way down to the harbor, and from this height hitting the water would be like hitting concrete.  Good thing she’d have enough time to morph, if she felt like it.  And then she looks over, and Rachel is standing there to her left like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Cassie doesn’t believe in miracles, of course she doesn’t.  She’s halfway into a morph faster than thought—but Rachel is talking.  Telling her about a thousand things (ragged rainbow bracelets, stolen homework and whispered promises, blood between their nails) only Rachel would know.  Even as Cassie watches Rachel morphs and then demorphs, just to prove who she is.

“How?” Cassie says at last, once she’s finally sure.  There are tears running down her cheeks.  She doesn’t really care.

Rachel shrugs, hair rippling in the wind.  “Toomin says I still have work to do.  Trust me, I don’t totally get it either.”

“Who’s Toomin?” Cassie asks.

“Oh man.”  Rachel laughs.  “Do you have five hours?”

Cassie realizes that she’s holding Rachel’s hand in her own.  That even though they’re standing too close to each other, so close that Rachel’s hair is blowing against her cheek, Rachel is leaning in even closer.  “Yeah,” Cassie breathes.  “I have all the time in the world.”

I figured out why Better Man is so heartwrenching. Like, aside from all the obvious implications that it made about the relationship and what it did to her, Better Man is heartwrenching for the same reason that Sad Beautiful Tragic and The Moment I Knew is.

Because most sad Taylor songs at least have that line, that one moment where she points out the silver lining. For Dear John it was the bridge. White Horse had ‘I’ll find someone someday who might actually treat me well’. Most of her sad songs has that moment.

But Sad Beautiful Tragic didn’t. SBT is just ‘it ended and there’s nothing i can do about it’. The Moment I Knew was ‘i had so much hope but i was miserable on what should’ve been a happy day’

Better Man is another step forward. Because yeah, she ran and she knew it was the right thing to do and the listeners knew it was the right thing to do, but even that ‘silver lining’ had the tone of ‘it shouldn’t have gotten to this I tried so hard all you had to do was meet me halfway and i loved you so much that i still miss you but now im so brokenhearted and it shouldn’t have come to this it shouldn’t have come to this it shouldn’t have come to this

SBT and TMIK is heartwrenching because there’s no silver-lining. Better Man is heartwrenching because there was barely a silver-lining, but it was still more painful than it was comforting.

mizjoely  asked:

22. I don’t know why I married you. 23. Have you ever lied to me? 24. If I trip over one more of your shoes, I’m throwing them all away. 25. Aren’t you supposed to be the adult? Any of them or a combo - my additional challenge is to use the same prompt(s) for Warstan and Sherlolly?

((Cracks knuckles)) Challenge accepted.  Though you’ll have to wait on the Sherlolly because this one ended up going lengthy.

“I’m starting to think our marriage counselor may be a quack, John.”

He laughed, because he kind of agreed with her (and because they’d had a bit of wine while doing this week’s homework assignment.)  The concept was solid… “get to know the person you married,” but the execution was flawed.

John drew another card from the box.

“Oh, my God.  It’s ‘Have you ever lied to me?’”

“No, never,” Mary said innocently, taking another drink.

“Assassin living under assumed name.”

“Accidentally seduced by secret third Holmes sibling in her clever disguise of pretty girl on bus.”

Keep reading

Eldigan/Eliwood C-S Support

Written by  the-nerdy-alpaca


Eldigan: You are leaving yourself wide open for an attack, you need to practice on your defense, Sir Eliwood.  

Eliwood: Oh! My, you started me Sir Eldigan! How long have you…never mind. Yes, I’ve been told of this problem several times…

Eldigan: And yet you have done nothing to correct this. You must remember that the Summoner prefers to send you and I into the battlefield often, I cannot be at your side at all times to correct you or protect you.  

Eliwood: I never asked for protection, Sir Eldigan. I follow the Summoner’s orders to the best of my abilities, whatever happens to me is the result of my actions. I am fully prepared to take the consequences of my actions, even if it results in the loss of my life.  

Eldigan: I can clearly see your loyalty to our Summoner as us knights should be Sir Eliwood. However, even if you are prepared to die, how is it that you could be so loyal and yet take the risk of not protecting yourself? You do realize if you do not correct your defense your loss could result in the loss of our Summoner’s plans. Work on correcting your mistakes. I will not tolerate any hinderance to our Summoner’s plans.

Eliwood: Your loyalty is astounding Sir Eldigan, so it seems the rumors of your devotion to your masters are true. But I cannot imagine you would hold that threat against me. For a dead man is worthless to the Summoner’s strategy as you have said.

Eldigan: You misunderstand Sir Eliwood. I would not kill you as you already explained to why I would not and cannot do that. I am merely stating I will not tolerate any hinderance to our Summoner’s, my master’s, plans. Therefore, I intend to train you. We work so often together I already know how you fight, so be here tomorrow at dawn.  

Eliwood: …Alright, I agree to your terms. I will see you tomorrow Sir Eldigan and may you give it your all.  

 EldigaIn: I intend to.

[Eldigan and Eliwood have reached support rank C.] 


Eldigan: Again! You are being distracted too much Sir Eliwood! Had this been a true duel you would have been dead.

Eliwood: *Heavy breathing* Oh trust me Sir Eldigan, I am highly aware. My thoughts keep assaulting me and so has my joy.

Eldigan: Joy? If I may ask, over what?

Eliwood: The Summoner has summoned my beloved son, Roy. He is a talented young man, far better than me in all my qualities, and I know he will be tremendous for the army. His talent will not be wasted, but I yearn to be with him. He was quite startled to see how young I looked, all I want to do is spend time with my precious boy.

Eldigan: I had not heard of your son being summoned, congratulations, Sir Eliwood. Come and sit with me, you need a break before we start again. I wouldn’t mind giving you time to spend with your son only if you answer a question of mine, Sir Eliwood.  

Eliwood: What question would that be, Sir Eldigan? Also you may refer to me as only Eliwood, we have been paired as partners after all and I do consider you somewhat as a friend.  

Eldigan: Eliwood  then…why is that you avoid answering my question on why it is that you do not protect yourself properly?

Eliwood: It was never something I was gifted in, I had adopted the mentality of a close friend of mine, Hector, in focusing on attacking. We often spar and with my enemies I do the same. After all I’ve been told I am not the hardiest of heroes and this is the reason why.

Eldigan: I see. Thank you Eliwood. You may refer to me as Eldigan for my hope is that we do become true friends and not just partners that the Summoner has placed us as.  
Eliwood: Thank you and I do hope we can find the day we do not speak so formally to one another, Eldigan. But may ask something? Do you have children? Do you too hope to see them?

Eldigan: It might be best for you to go see your son, Eliwood.

Eliwood: …I understand. I apologize for prying and thank you.

[Eldigan and Eliwood have reached support rank B.]


Eliwood: *Door bursts wide open* Eldigan! Are you alright?!

Eldigan: And here I was hoping for some peace and quiet. *Sitting up*

Eliwood: Enough with the sarcasm! Lay down and rest! Those mages did tremendous damage against you. I thought you had died when you and your horse had fell…

Eldigan: I would not die that easily…but it was thanks to you that I am alive. *Lies down* Your ability to shrug off magical attacks is astounding, many in our armies do not have such a gift.

Eliwood: I never thought about that, yet again it was useful in defeating the man that murdered my father. But enough about me, Eldigan are you truly alright?

Eldigan: Yes my friend, I am fine. Just sore and a bit dazed.

Eliwood: May I bring, Ares? He has been tremendously worried for you, I calmed him down, but he wants to see you, Eldigan.

Eldigan: …I am not worthy for the compassion of my son. I…failed him.  

Eliwood: I try not to pry into your life, Eldigan, for I learned my lesson last time, but please I am sure you are worthy.

Eldigan: I am not. In my world, I was so loyal to my country and master that I continued to fight for him despite the cruelty that he was unleashing. I was stuck between following my order to kill my close friend or disregard it. Never have I behaved like this and my sister reasoned with me to speak with my master. For that I was to be executed and I failed my country and my family in that moment. Ares told me my wife was killed so I realized I left my son with nothing but ruin, I deserve no compassion from him.

Eliwood: …Eldigan you’re a fool. I understand your reasoning but can’t you see the love that your son has been trying to give to you? He loves you dearly, you’re his hero and you always will be. You cannot let your past stop your future, I believe in you Eldigan, so please, take the steps to be free of your past by speaking to your son.

Eldigan: …Alright. Bring him in…and I have noticed he is very fond of you lately.

Eliwood: Ha! As my son with you! I believe it is because we are close friends.

Eldigan: Maybe…*mumbles*

Eliwood: What was that?

Eldigan: Oh nothing, wondering if my son and yours can train you.

Eliwood: Ha! They would destroy me! But please rest, I will get Ares.

[Eldigan and Eliwood have reached support rank A.]


Eldigan: You know when I was summoned, I felt the blade tearing through my neck when I was being executed.

Eliwood: I’m so sorry you went through that Eldigan, but why are you telling me this now?

Eldigan: Because I realized I never explained why I am so glad and yet so sad that I am alive. I feel like a living testament to my failures, but I wanted to tell you I wish to move forward from that thought.

Eliwood: I can’t imagine what you have gone through…Eldigan you have become one of my closet friends and I’m glad you are taking these steps for yourself.

Eldigan: For that I wanted to tell you…your opinions are important to me.

Eliwood: Eldigan what is it you want to ask me? You’re rigid, I know that’s how you get when you need to say something.

Eldigan: I never noticed that, how did you, forget that…if you don’t want to answer then that’s fine but we have talked so much about our pasts these pasts months, but I wanted to know if you ever thought of marrying again?

Eliwood: Did someone catch your eye? I’m sure you will win their heart by being yourself but being handsome too is a plus.

Eldigan: …Perhaps. I just don’t know how they feel for me.

Eliwood: Ah. How long have this gone on?

Eldigan: Only recently. But enough with interrogating me, what’s your answer?

Eliwood: I never gave it a thought. The death of my wife made it hard for me to think about it. Over the years I had coped with it, but it still hurts and yet I know she would have wanted me to be happy. So it depends on who it is.

Eldigan: Then how would you feel if it was me?

Eliwood: Excuse me?! I-I wa-wait! Are you infatuated with me?

Eldigan: Deeply. You are an amazing man Eliwood. Your care for others, your bravery, your loyalty, but most of all your belief in others. Yet, it was also for your faults I too have come to admire and love. I fell for how you truly are, Eliwood, and for that I wanted to know if I could court you. I want to give you time and be comfortable with this, but I hope you would find me worthy in doing this.

Eliwood: …I…I am stunned to be honest. Ha! I can’t help but smile and my cheeks are beginning to hurt. I admired you so deeply Eldigan for everything you do and stand for, but I am so glad to meet you and see that you are just as human as I am. I am honored and yes you can court me. But I believe you are certainly worthy.

Eldigan: Thank you, my heart.

[Eldigan and Eliwood have reached support rank S.]

anonymous asked:

If Taylors 1989 album is about Dianna then who are her previous albums and songs about like back to december and the jack song about the scarf and every other song she’s written about her ex’s

It is impossible to identify a subject for every one of Taylor’s songs, particularly during the so-called ‘missing years’ between Fearless and Red (from which the majority are, likely, also about Dianna.) A good number from her back catalogue are probably about Emily Poe (her former violinist), thus: Love Story, Breathe, Sparks Fly, Speak Now, Back to December et cetera. Others may be about John Mayer (in part or whole) or (possibly) Claire Callaway or simply about queer identity: several of Taylor’s songs can be read literally (i.e. as referring to a specific individual and/or past experience) and metaphorically – for example, White Horse, The Way I Loved You, Haunted, Begin Again, This Love.

But, if you are genuinely curious, I suggest that you do some reading; you might like to start here (my index page) or perhaps here (for a greater variety of opinions).

anonymous asked:

Do you think the Cullens will ever separate? They have been together for a really short amount of time for vampires. What about in 300 or 3000 years?

This is the beginning of A Theme I wish SM had explored. 

According to her own canon, the Volturi were a perfectly functional family for a century and a half. The Romanians lived in a coven of twelve, seemingly without problems, for a thousand years. The specifics of the Egyptian coven are unclear, but they too were harmonious and numerous for a long while. 

….in other words, the Cullens aren’t special. They’ve lived together for, like, 60-ish years (less than that if you restart the clock for Bella and Nessie), and Garrett can’t stop talking about their ~extraordinary love. Hold your horses, my friend. The Cullens are babies by vampire standards, and their family is nascent at best. 

Personally, I suspect the Cullens will dramatically fall apart in 50 years. To my mind, Nessie is inevitably going to do Something Bad, launching Edward’s second wave of angst-murders. ( “Something Bad” is a relative term. She might eat a person on vacation with Auntie Zafrina. She might become full-time carnivorous. She might do all that while dating Nahuel’s sister. Still, when you believe that your salvation hinges on another person, any transgression is devastating.) Anyway, Edward’s theatrics will attract human scrutiny, forcing the coven to split up. Meanwhile, the Volturi are presumably still lurking in the shadows, acquiring their own hybrids, recruiting shield-breakers and gift-neutralizers, and training their guards to destroy the Quileutes. I honestly have no idea how the Cullens are going to make it until 2050, barring Deus-ex-Stephenie-Meyer.