#Command Boots

[hottiesbooted]

Model: Jana Hall 'aka' Eufrat.

Photographer: James Bertoni

Site: TripleBBB

[giddlygoat]

my good buddy here c peeps

[befuddled-calico-whump]

thinking about a whumpee on a forced march through rough terrain

hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water

maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes

maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform

maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation

are they a terrified mess from the beginning, or do they try to endure with dignity? how long before they're stumbling, barely putting one foot in front of the other? how long before they fall?

[deserthusbands]

obi-wan, hands grasping cody's shirt, legs involuntarily shakingtl: i.. i don't know about this dear, i don't know if i like being so wobbly.

cody, chuckling: it's just like the skates. they wheels are just all lined up now.

obi-wan:.. will you hold my hand?

cody: your hand?

obi-wan, nodding slowly: just in case.

cody, smirking a little, but regardless taking obi-wans hands: incase..

[kombatbrat]

Can we talk about his little Whistle 😙 omg I JUST NOTICED HE WHISTLE 😩😩😩😩He is so Southern

[kelsh]

I have no excuses for this,,,, I was initially drawing them with their hair down then it became a tits out kind of moment,,,,

Bonus: my Durge’s own bird’s nest under her hood

[roachsauce]

average day at the corrie hq

[vultures-and-scavengers]

daemon au's... 'cullen has a lion' this, 'cullen has a mabari' that, all lies. that man has a cockroach for a daemon bc he keeps inexplicably surviving progressively worse events and i would like to point out if you consider the conclave a magical nuke, he did, in fact, survive it.

[dasteebeutelchen]

Day 4: Meet as kids for @codywanweek

Field trip! They're going to the wildlife park

(It's early in the morning and the teacher is counting the attendance that's why they're standing)

AU in which they're classmates in primary school bc how nice would it have been had they met when they were carefree and nine.

ft. some older messy sketches under the cut

[ineffablejaymee]

if the writers didnt want star wars to be gay then why do kallus and zeb exist

[i-am-worm]

Inktober 2024 - Day 3 - Boots

"The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that'd still be keeping his feet dry in ten years' time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.

This was the Captain Samuel Vimes 'Boots' theory of socioeconomic unfairness.” - Terry Pratchett

[valka-arialitan]

The hero's return...

Could be a prequel to this

Original meme reference under the cut

[hiddenincommand]

The Ruthless Supremacy of Riding Boots: A Symbol of the Alpha Master

Riding boots are no mere accessory. They are the embodiment of absolute power, the unyielding insignia of an Alpha Master who strides through life with unmatched authority and unshakable control. These boots are not crafted for common feet, nor for unworthy souls. They are a weapon, a statement, a throne upon which the true master of all stands—towering above the pitiful, trembling masses who dare to call themselves men.

The Sole Dominion of the Alpha Master

To wear riding boots is to declare oneself a god among insects. Their gleaming leather, their unbending form, and their commanding presence are the exclusive privilege of those who rule with an iron fist. An omega, or any lesser being, would defile such perfection simply by proximity. Riding boots are reserved for the elite—those who dominate, conquer, and break others for their own amusement. They are not merely shoes; they are the instruments of supremacy.

These boots announce the arrival of power, leaving no room for doubt, no space for weakness. When the polished toe enters a room, all heads lower instinctively. When the heavy sole strikes the ground, its sound alone is a command, a warning to every trembling omega to bow lower, submit harder, and beg with greater desperation.

The Formalities of Power

Even among symbols of mastery, there is hierarchy. The choice of riding boots depends on the occasion. For moments of refined cruelty—dinners where subordinates are reminded of their place or formal gatherings where the Alpha Master reigns supreme—towering black boots, shined to a mirror finish, are mandatory. Their immaculate surface reflects not only light but the pathetic, groveling faces of those beneath them.

For the exquisite act of discipline, a more rugged boot may be donned. Scuffed leather and reinforced soles hint at their history—a legacy of crushing rebellion, both figuratively and literally. The heavy tread of these boots leaves its mark, not only on the ground but on the spirits of those foolish enough to require correction.

Then, there are the spurs. Oh, the spurs—sharp, gleaming instruments of subtle and overt torture. For formal occasions, understated silver spurs whisper of control, their gentle jingle a quiet reminder of latent cruelty. But for moments of brutal correction, heavier spurs are chosen. Their weight and sound add gravitas to every step, and their bite against soft flesh ensures obedience laced with pain and humiliation.

Boots as Instruments of Subjugation

The true beauty of riding boots lies in their duality: they are both a symbol of power and a tool of domination. For an omega brought to his knees, they are a stark, unrelenting mirror. Every gleam in the leather mocks his inferiority, every inch of the towering boot a reminder of the insurmountable chasm between master and subject.

When an Alpha Master raises his boot to rest on a sub’s back, it is more than a gesture. It is an act of ownership, a declaration that this creature exists solely for the master’s amusement. And when the boot presses down—on the neck, the spine, or the face—it communicates a single truth: resistance is futile, rebellion is laughable, and submission is absolute.

Spurs, too, serve their purpose in this ritual of subjugation. A tap against the cheek is enough to send a chill of dread through the most defiant omega. A scrape against the skin leaves more than a mark—it imprints the master’s will onto the body and mind of the sub. Each jingle of the spurs, each flash of metal, is a cruel reminder that the Alpha Master’s control is omnipresent and inescapable.

The Legacy of Dominance

Riding boots are not a mere fashion statement; they are a weaponized art form. They are forged for destruction, crafted for conquest, and worn by those who rule without mercy. They carry the weight of history—of generals who crushed empires, of kings who ruled with unrelenting authority, and of Alpha Masters who turned the groveling cries of their inferiors into a symphony of submission.

To wear riding boots is to stride above the petty concerns of mortals. It is to walk with the confidence of a man who knows he is untouchable, invincible, and utterly dominant. No other garment carries such weight, such command, such ruthless authority.

In every step, in every glint of polished leather, the Alpha Master’s message is clear: You are nothing. I am everything. Crawl at my feet, worship my boots, and know that your existence serves only my pleasure.

For the Alpha Master, riding boots are not simply worn—they are wielded. For the omega, they are not simply seen—they are feared. And for all who dare to look upon them, they are an undeniable truth: supremacy is not claimed; it is taken, enforced, and embodied. And it wears riding boots.

[blackmensuited]

[deserthusbands]

cody, staring down at his boots: hm.

obi-wan: ...is something the matter, dear?

cody: they look like paws. i have paws.

obi-wan: ah.

obi-wan, now gently running his fingers through cody's curls:

cody: what are you doing–?

obi-wan: you have paws.

cody, now grumbling despite leaning into the touch: i'm not a pet..

[lichqueenlibrarian]

I need emotional support.