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Simon Curtis will be giving an overview presentation on his latest book release ‘The Hoof of the Horse’ & will be signing copies @ Stromsholm Newmarket on 12th Dec between 4.30-6.30pm. ✒️📙🎤 Buy Now:




Next in our roundup of 10 favorite stories from 2018 is all about our course, which earlier this year saw its first all-female cohort. The course was developed in 1913 to produce farriers who help the public and is part of our land-grant mission.










How’s this for Conformation!!😬🏇 Unfortunately at this stage and age we can only shoe for comfort! On the bright side... he’s still a Group Winner! 🤔🐎🐴🔨



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latest Ford Ranger to be fitted out for a very happy Farrier.






















fully kitted out Farriers Workstation in a Ford Custom Van. Lots of organised storage and slide out utensils. Keeping tools to hand.




A great turn out in , for last night’s lecture with Jim Ferrie FWCF. A very informative lecture on the importance of level foot fall and how to achieve it. Thank you to everyone who attended this event.












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Farrier’s toolbox, 1900.

aka-bambiii  asked:

For the prompt thing, could you do “Just breathe, okay?” and/or “Why are you naked?” for Collins/Farrier? (with farrier saying them both) :P

Hey! I went with the second one, bc I already write angst by default lmao, so I wanted to try my hand at something else. Thank you for requesting it, and I hope it’s not too bad!

It was quite unglamorous, the first time they met. Collins was a young Scot among a bunch of Englishmen, and just as immature as schoolboys, they had to kill time in the spare hours in between training. It was only natural that he found himself quite often being the target of their boredom. But there was a limit to everything, Collins thought.

“Come on lads!” he groans, clenching his hand around the locker handle. An empty locker, this time. And no towels around to be seen. “Alright, yes, very funny. Can I ‘ave ‘em back now?” He looks around in the empty and steamy shower-room and sees no-one.

He sits alone for a good five minutes, awkward and cloth-less, waiting for them to be done with their impractical pranks. But no-one comes back and he starts getting cold as the steam begins to fade away.

“For fuck’s sake” he curses under his breath as he stands up and makes his way to the corridor. He peeks out the empty hallway. If he makes a run for it, he’s sure he can make it to his room in a couple of minutes. Not without the possibility of slipping and breaking his neck, though. He is, after all, dripping water.

He could always just sit and wait, someone ought to need a shower soon, and a towel and clothes as well. Waiting would mean turning up late for his theoretical lesson, however, and that is something that he cannot afford to miss, this being the Royal fucking Air Force and all.

“I’ll have yer heads” he mutters, before looking left and right again and stepping out on the chill.

It’s a long corridor and three sets of stairs until his shared dormitory, and he’s lucky enough not to run into anyone for the majority of his hurried trip. He runs past a couple of opened doors and bears with mocking laughter but is starting to think that he’s out on the clear just when he reaches the last set of stairs and spots someone coming up. The triumphant smile fades away immediately, and he regrets feeling so cheery on the spot.

Never count your eggs before they hatch, his grand-father used to tell him.

He retrieves back into the corridor with a nervous gasp. Those uniform colours mean a rank high up above any of the men he’s had the opportunity to even strike a conversation with, so far. He looks back to the hall with longing, knowing there’s no way in the world he can make it out of sight before the man reaches the top of the stairs.

Fainting. He shakes his head. Ridiculous. That’s not something he can simply get away with, and even so, in the very unlikely scenario of it working, it still wouldn’t explain why he was roaming the corridors with no clothes on.

He’ll know it’s a prank, Collins decides. Hell, we’re all men here, and men are fucking stupid. Maybe he won’t see my face if I hurry down.

He shakes the thought away.

Oh, he’ll see your face alright, when he’s picking up your sorry ass after you’ve slipped and cracked your skull open on that banister.

He leans on the wall, letting out a helpless sigh and covering himself up with both hands. And that’s exactly the image that greets the other man, when he steps into the corridor. Collins almost thinks he hasn’t seen him, eyes down to his opened book, but the men does halt. And looks at him as he lowers his book with tortuous calmness.

They lock eyes, and his handsome superior raises both eyebrows as if offended by the sight. He slowly crosses his arms on his chest, and Collins can feel himself go red from head to toe. A human tomato. It doesn’t help at all that he’s pale as a corpse.

The silence goes on for too long until Collins can’t take it anymore, it feels like a painful dagger to his stomach.

“Uh…” he blurts out nervously, under the scrutinizing gaze of the man, then he looks down to himself as if searching for an explanation. He looks back up and opens his mouth to say something, anything, excuse himself in any way. His mind goes blank.

“Name and rank” a deep voice demands, and Collins can feel his soul leaving his body.

He’s opening his mouth to answer when the man lifts up a hand to stop him.

“Actually, just your name will do” he adds, with the same stoic expression and matter-of-factly manner.

Fair enough, Jack thinks, and he’s determined to look unflinching now, so he straightens up and clears his throat.

“Collins, sir, Jack.” he nods to himself, already preparing to accept whatever punishment is deemed appropriate.

“Care to explain why you are naked, Mr. Collins?”

“Aye sir, I lost my clothes sir.” Collins answers promptly, and takes a quick glance to the man’s sleeves. Three light-blue bands.

Wing Commander.

Shite.

When he looks back up, he sees the blue-eyed man giving him a once-over, and he can’t help but swallow down sheepishly. He wants to move, but fights down the impulse. He’ll stay right here, like an obedient puppy, lest he add more reasons for the commander to have him sent home for good.

Insubordination. Kicked out before even finishing training. They would cross his name out of the family tree, no doubt.

“Lost your clothes” the man repeats, with a voice that denotes lack of satisfaction. It must feel like he’s mocking him, Collins realizes with alarm, and starts to panic. He can’t exactly spill the beans on his mates however, god knows what the consequences of that would be.

“Aye sir” The Wing Commander steps closer, hands still crossed on his chest as he smiles at Collins, who can’t decide if the smirk is utterly terrifying or utterly arousing, and if that’s not the most inconvenient thing that could happen right now…

“And, pray enlighten me, where exactly did you last see these clothes?”

Collins can’t take the stare, so he has to glance away.

He hesitates to answer.

“In my… locker sir”

“What’s that?” He makes a face and leans closer, and Collins realizes he’s been slowly hunching down.

“In my locker, sir” he speaks up, as he straightens up and looks forward, hands in between his legs still.

His superior nods in understanding, and takes a look at the long corridor behind him as if in deep thought. Collins is cursing him internally, because he can hear a group of men about to turn the corner and come right in front, and the staircase behind is the only viable way of avoiding them.

When the man looks back to him, Jack doesn’t give a damn anymore, he shows him the most pitiful and desperate look he can muster and hopes that he his merciful. He doesn’t make a move to leave, though, and the Wing Commander stares at him with a hint of amusement for too long.

Just ten more seconds and he’ll never live this down… Everyone gets a nickname in here.

“Better keep a closer eye on those clothes from now on, Mr. Collins.” He says, before looking him up and down again, and showing him his back. Jack watches as he opens the book again and starts walking away.

“You’re dismissed.”

Jack blinks, stays still for a couple of seconds and scatters away, jittery and hot all over.

Yik Yak: Dunkirk Edition

Shivering Soldier


Mr. Dawson


Peter


George


Collins


Farrier


Alex


Tommy


Gibson


Commander Bolton


Colonel Winnant

Stuff they carry around always (somehow oddly specific)

Collins: Chapstick, mints, gum, some cash, pack of cigarettes, earphones and phone, something to fix his hair with.

Farrier: lots of change, a pen without a cap, paperclip bent out of shape, a very old phone, a broken orange rubber band (???) Cash&card.

Mr. Dawson: common sense, load of cash, chocolate bar, some sweets to give to kids, wisdom, witty remarks, a pen that works (thankfully)

Tommy: mint flavoured gum, lots and lots of wrappers mixed with a pound or two, a leaky pen, a broken pencil sharpener (????)

Alex: 5 packs of gum. A stress ball, a random pebble or two, receipts, paper bits with people’s phone numbers he keeps forgetting to save in his phone.

Gibson: a journal w a pen (no one knows how he manages to take that thing every fucking where) iPod, earphones, mints, an aura of mystery, sufficient amount of cash.

Peter: PHONE, earphones, a picture of all of them in front of a restaurant (most probably a Waffle House), little bit of cash, a tiny ball, a safety pin.

George: his phone (the wallpaper is a picture of him and Peter with their cat) stick notes, small spiral bound notepad, some cash, sweets. Lots of em.

Shivering Soldier: a small alcohol flask (you know those real small ones), his wallet which has pictures of his wife and kids, he also carries lots of paperclips around for some reason, patience.

  • Colonel Winnant: Whose turn is it to give the pep talk today?
  • Farrier: It’s Collins’s turn.
  • Collins: Fuck shit up out there but don’t die.
  • Commander Bolton: *wiping a tear away* Inspirational.
  • Shivering Soldie: Mate, don’t pretend you’re not the kind of guy who keeps a list of all the people he slept with.
  • Collins: I have one. It’s called my marriage licence!
  • Collins and Farrier: *high five*

Sunday Morning

omg there’s isn’t enough fanfiction out there for farrier so can you maybe do prompts #57 and #68 with farrier? 💕

“Is that my shirt?” + “You’re making me blush!”

Warnings: little bit of touchy feely but it’s not all that bad!!

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Sunday morning was always your favorite morning. It was the only time that Farrier ever stayed in bed past 7 am. The wrinkled sheet was drawn up and around your body, covering your bare skin from no one in particular.. no one apart from the slumbering man at your side. He shared the same cover that you did, but the silky fabric resided around his waist, shielding only half of his figure. Despite this, your eyes ran along his toned chest and down to the shielded area, attempting to see something through the thin material. With a gentle sigh of defeat, you rolled on to your back. The bed shook lightly with your movements and then creaked quietly as your weight was shuffled around and then removed completely when you stood. In one swift movement, you leaned over and grabbed ahold of the closest piece of clothing and pulled it over your body. The shirt fell immediately to the middle of your thigh. It was a crisp white, a button down that never seemed to be unbuttoned in all the times you’d seen the man on the bed wear it. He had a tendency of just pulling it off over his head. Farrier has never been a patient man.

You’d known him for six years. There were no labels on this relationship. Friends had been what you’d considered yourself for four years.. and then friends who kissed and then friends who did a little more than kiss and now.. you looked to the bed, observing him while he was lost in a state of oblivion.

Farrier had one arm bent beneath the pillow he was laid on. One leg was bent at the knee and the other was extended out straight. His chest rose and fell slowly with his deep breaths and you found it almost impossible to tear your gaze away. Even though he was sleeping, you were sure he could feel your piercing gaze. You pulled your stare away from his form for only a second before your curious eyes moved back to him. Along the front of his chest, a few deep scars stained his skin. The upper part of his chest and arms were decorated with tattoos. It was a rarity for you to see him so vulnerable. He was normally up before the sun, lugging on a turtleneck in the corner of the room as you were beginning to wake. It was normal for the pair of you. While you were still resting on the mattress, he would move to the corner. He’d drag on a pair of navy army pants, baggy and big with deep pockets, and then a turtleneck would follow, shielding his entire body from the cold that had a tendency to attack him. He work big coats over the sweater, sometimes two, and other times three. He wore gloves on his hands, black leather gloves that made it easy for him to keep control of the aircraft when he was flying. You usually woke when he was sat at the edge of the bed, pushing his feet into the boots that rested on the floor.

During the last few months, things between the two of you had changed. You spent nights together, curled up beneath a blanket as your bodies remained wound around one another long after the love-making had stopped. Farrier used to just leave. No matter if he stayed for hours of passion, or if it was the wee hours of the morning, the man would go. He didn’t have time to get attached and he didn’t want to put you through the heartbreak of having to grieve over losing him if something were to happen. He thought that if he were to let himself love you the way that he desperately wanted to.. it was too much of a risk. He was basically a dead man walking. He could vanish at any second and you wouldn’t have a way to know for sure what had happened. At least this way, if anything ever did happen, you’d be able to convince yourself that he’d just tired of the occasional sex and didn’t want to come around anymore. Yes, this way was much easier.

After pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you moved around the bed and over to the window. His shirt bounced against the backs of your thighs as you walked, avoiding the small bed that resided in the center of the room. It was a little bit bigger than a twin bed, so the two of you did have to sleep particularly close to one another. You didn’t mind. And you knew, as he buried his face into your neck when he was falling asleep, that he didn’t care either.

Your small fingers wrapped in the earl-grey colored curtains so you could drag them open just a little. Letting some of the sunlight pour into the room to liven up the dark space just a little, you stretched quietly. Letting in some natural lighting was better than turning on the actual light because you didn’t want to wake Farrier. Though, that didn’t seem like an issue because the man was beginning to roll around and that was what he normally did in the morning when he was beginning to wake.

The man let out a low groan before moving his arm to the vacant space beside him. His large fingers slid along the sheet, blindly and tiredly searching for his source of warmth. “Y/N?” He mumbled hoarsely before sleepily opening his eyes. He had a deep look of confusion and concentration etched into his handsome face. His forehead was creased with lines and his plump lips were parted in another silent question. You didn’t have time to speak up or return to the bed before the exhausted man rolled on to his back so he could observe the entirety of the room. He found you within seconds. His expression visibly relaxed and then his tense muscles slowly slackened as his body dropped back down on the pillows beneath him. “Morning.” He mumbled tiredly. His voice was ragged and heavy with sleep. You were sure that if you weren’t use to his accent that you wouldn’t even understand him.

The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you moved back to the bed. Lifting your knee, the mattress sunk beneath the applied pressure and as you began to lower yourself down, Farrier’s voice halted you once more. “Is that my shirt?” You stiffened beside him before you lowered yourself down a different type of kneeling position.

“Maybe.” You told him softly as your fingers lifted to fiddle with the fastened buttons. A small smile made its way across your face before you laid your hand flat on the mattress and leaned toward him. Of all the times the two of you had spent together, you’d never given him a kiss good morning and he’d never done it either. Most times, it was just him, showing up unannounced for sex or a cuddle. You didn’t mind it. Conversations followed or conversations began the entire thing, he had always been a very good friend to you so it wasn’t like it was awkward or hard to communicate. It was only hard when you wanted to kiss him long after the physical side of things had stopped. Or you wanted to burrow yourself against his side and lock your body around his own after the pair of you had woken up. It was times like this, when your feelings made themselves known, that you warned yourself to keep your distance. Things were going really good between the two of you. You had the communication and the sex like a couple did.. you just didn’t have the arguments or the affection that others did and that was okay. Wasn’t it?

Farrier sat up on the bed. His hand lifted to the back of his neck so he could knead the soft skin. He had a deep ache in the base of his skull that ran down to the top of his spine. “My shirt suits you.” He muttered lowly. He still hadn’t looked away from the fact that you were now wearing a piece of his clothing. He never noticed before when you did it because it was always too dark to see and when he returned, later that same night usually, you’d had the material folded and placed on your dresser, ready for him to take back home. Farrier briefly reached behind him to adjust the pillows and make a comfier spot to lay his head before his eyes ran along your body, studying the shirt buttons. If you were going to wear the damn things, he’d make sure to at least undo a few.. he imagined this was how you felt. Frustrated because he always had the clothing done up completely. He laid back down. Not anymore he wouldn’t.

Your tongue slid over your lips as you watched him move around on the mattress. It had never been like this before. Usually if he woke, and on Sundays when he stayed around a little later than normal, it consisted of soft conversations and the smallest of touches, but the two of you were wide awake, sleepily conversing and the topic just had to be about the fact that you’d blindly pulled on his shirt. “Do you want it back?” The offer was soft and innocent, a genuine question, but the second that you spoke, Farrier’s eyes snapped to your own and you flushed because you’d just offered to basically strip for him. “That’s.. I didn’t..” A small furrow formed between your brows as you began to maneuver yourself around, trying to find a better position to sit in despite the fact that you were comfy. You just hoped all your moving around would distract him from what you’d just said.

Farrier reached forward and gently grabbed ahold of your wrist, ceasing your movements. “Unfortunately for you,” The man couldn’t help but smirk. His full lips twitched before the corner jerked up on the corner. Your heart lurched forward before skipping a beat at the expression, waiting for him to continue. “I only have three white shirts, that one included, and I need it for work.” His eyes moved along your features, searching for any sort of twitch on your face that signaled you were shying away from the situation. He picked up on things like that. A flicker in the eyes or a shuffle of your body, sometimes you’d scratch beneath your jaw in attempt to mask the warmth in your cheeks that you knew he couldn’t see. Your ears were hot and your skin was crawling with nerves. “You can give it back to me later if you’d like.” He added after a few moments.

You watched as he closed his eyes and dragged the sheet up to the middle of his body. His tongue left his mouth in order to moisten his lips before he grunted beneath his breath and relaxed. He wasn’t going to go back to sleep, you both knew that, but he would take advantage of the chance to just rest. Settled beside him the way that you wore, a little bubble of confidence built up inside you. It was now or never really, to make it known that you didn’t mind continuing with the physical side of things just because the darkness wasn’t enveloping you both anymore. Just because the sun was here, that didn’t mean you didn’t want to be with farrier anymore. You pinched the button at the top of his shirt and in one very easy movement undid it. The top of your chest was revealed just like that. Another button, the middle of your chest was on show, curve of your breasts becoming painfully obvious. He wasn’t looking. He wasn’t even aware of what you were doing. Another button followed, and then another, and then another. Your stomach was visible now, sinking visibly as you took in a deep, shy breath. You undid the last two buttons before pulling off the shirt and draping it over his face. You could feel him freeze on the mattress before sleepily lifting his hand to inspect what you’d placed on him.

Farrier opened his droopy eyes. The shirt smelled like you already, coated in that sweet vanilla scent that you left everywhere you went. Pinching the corner of the material, he dragged it up so the shirt was draped over his head, but not his eyes. Peering out and at your form, he swallowed audibly at the sight before him. You were naked once more, kneeling at his side in nothing other than a necklace that circled your neck. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His eyes did all of the talking that the man was incapable of. He swallowed again, this time louder, and you couldn’t help but move your hand toward the space beside his shoulder. Lifting yourself so you could crawl toward him, the heat in your cheeks and ears grew hotter, causing you to nibble on your bottom lip. “Stop staring.” You whispered breathily. “You’re making me blush!” Your words were more of a harsh, pleading whimpered set of words, something you hadn’t intended on, but it made Farrier smirk wider than before. He loved seeing you squirm.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He reminded you. His hand lifted to your lower back when you were close enough and before you had a chance to respond, he pulled you down and against his body, cradling your bare form against his own. He lifted his head off of the pillows to meet you in the middle for a soft kiss, a proper good morning, one that you’d been waiting for for years.. that sounded pathetic so you told yourself it had only been months. Your hand lifted to cradle his cheek, nails lazily caressing his stubbly skin.

His kisses were long and they left you breathless. You’d definitely never tire of them. His mouth moved against your own, dare you think it, perfectly. They slanted so nicely against your own and he knew exactly what to do to make you squirm. The both of you began to wiggle around, trying to guide you on top of him and with difficulty because you were both so lost in the kiss, he’d managed to guide you on top of him. You loved straddling the man because you loved the guttural groans he let loose when you applied too much pressure to a certain area. This morning though, this didn’t feel sexual. It didn’t feel like he was kissing you as a means of foreplay. This felt real and it felt needed.

When the kiss came to its natural end, you straightened on top of him with a lazy grin before lowering yourself down so you could wrap him in your embrace. Your mouth moved to his ear, head rested comfortably against his shoulder. “Farrier?”

The man let out a quiet grunt before turning his head so he could see you. Your lips were centimeters from his own and your hand was gentle as it moved along his jaw. “Don’t say it.” His voice cut into your own.

Your eyes lifted to his. You could see the emotion that danced in those earthy pools. How did he know what you were even going to say? “Farrier, but I..”

“Please.” He whispered.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” You tried to reason with him. He, of course, did know. He’d always been able to read you like a book.

“This is going to harden things.” He mumbled beneath his breath before shutting his eyes and preparing himself for what was to come.

“Things are already hard.” You couldn’t help but lean in and kiss his chin. Your hand moved along his chest, over his stomach and down to the bulge that was tucked away beneath the sheet. You didn’t want to touch him though. Not right now. Not when you were about to confess to him how you felt. Your joke had made him grin either way though and when your hand moved south to lazily caress his shaft through the thin material of the blanket, he sighed breathily in enjoyment. “Farrier, I love you.” Your whispered confession was enough to make the bulge beneath your fingertips harden further.

He knew that responding to you was only going to ruin this easy-going relationship and complicate things when he needed to leave for war, but he wasn’t going to hide the way he felt from you, not when you’d been brave enough to be honest with him. “I love you too.” He finally responded.

Your heavy heart seemed to lighten considerably the second that he confirmed what you’d been wondering after all this time. Your mouth pressed firmly into his own again to continue with what you’d been doing a few seconds ago. Maybe this wasn’t ideal and maybe it was what the two of you had been avoiding for as long as possible, but you didn’t want to ignore the way you felt any longer and you didn’t want to wave lazily when he left to fight. You wanted to kiss him goodbye and embrace him for as long as you could so that he was left with the feel of your lips and your body pressed against his own when he needed a sense of comfort. You weren’t sure what your future held or how much of it farrier would be present for. But right now, right now you were happy and this was more than you could’ve ever asked for.

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@thatsamegirl @peakyhoegh @centerhabit @favouritereadings @goodiesintheclosetlove @buckypetal15 @kitcatimpala67 @crldrr @jamierdr @lyraeluna @jakechillenhaal @vanillafarts @multireality @emiliesnowflake @ellar21 @kirah34 @ihclipse @qarhmn @amamkogr @callisen @hardygal69 @amontoya0110 @captstefanbrandt @meer0rauschen @emerald-bijou @jessichomper @2loveeverything2

A/N: WOW IVE WRITTEN. IVE FINALLY WRITTEN. ITS BEEN 8 WEEKS SINCE MY LAST UPDATE AND IT FEELS SO GOOD TO FINALLY BE POSTING. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY 🧡 AND REMEMBER IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAG LIST, MESSAGE ME THROUGH PRIVATE MESSAGES OR MY INBOX!

I’ve never seen a gif of this shot so I made one myself. Even the smallest hand movements, when done by Tom Hardy convey so much. Even the hesitation in  resting his thumb too close to the ‘fire’ button says so much about Farrier as a person. He’s not doing this for the thrills, or the glory. He’s doing it because he has to, his country depends on it. 

He’s mentally removing himself from the fight, even if it’s only by moving his thumb away from the fire button, offering some sort of comfort that at least he’s not touching it now.

(A lot of pilots were trigger-happy and even experienced pilots would hold their finger on the button to be absolutely ready to fire, in showing such restraint we also see why Farrier landed on the beach. He doesn’t want to kill people, he wants to save people.)

Drunk donk! While we are slowly chipping away at taming Java, she still is not a big fan of the farrier and needs a little dorm gel to get her through the appointment. Those club feet are starting to look a whole lot less sideways though, and she has to be feeling better every time!