#Led sheepskin

[avonne-writes]

omg for the prompts i love "— “of course i remembered. it’s important to you, so now it’s important to me too.”" and and "— “can i hold your hand? is that weird to ask?”" and and omg "— “i can’t believe you didn’t know i liked you, i thought it couldn’t have been any more obvious.”" for the hs au pleaseeeeee

I posted the hand holding prompt a few days ago, so I'll exclude it here. The other two I'm going to combine with today's Daily Dose of Austin Butler prompt (this will only be at the end of the drabble).

The boys are 15 here, and this is right after they make up following their first serious fight. (Sorry for any typos, I'm very tired.)

TW for brief mention of child abuse

2. Selfie

"I can’t believe you didn’t know I liked you." Gale smiles softly at the small glow-in-the-dark stars that decorate the ceiling of Bucky's bedroom. They're the only source of light in the cozy night as he and Bucky lie there in Bucky's bed side by side. When Gale shifts, Bucky's hand tightens around his where they rest on Gale’s chest. "I thought it couldn’t have been any more obvious."

Bucky's chuckle is so close to Gale's ear that he feels a hot flush run down his neck. "I thought you were just shy."

"I'm not that shy!"

"If you say so, baby." Bucky laughs and hugs him, giddy and warm as usual.

Gale hugs him back and closes his eyes against the sudden pang of pain in his heart when he realizes how much he missed this. Being called baby. Being hugged.

Two months of dating and this is the first time that he’s staying the night. It feels like a dream, especially considering the past few days, when everything seemed to be falling apart because he lied about all the shit he has to put up with at home. Those stupid lies! Why couldn’t he just say, my father is an alcoholic and my mom doesn’t give a fuck?

Instead, he led Bucky to feel like Gale didn’t really like him after all. He confused him. Messed up the first relationship he has ever had. Bucky broke up with him, and Gale cried and cried and threw out all of his dad's booze just to get the slap he felt he deserved. It was... He doesn’t want to think about it. What matters is that his Bucky came back to him, they talked for, like, four hours non-stop, and everything is all right now. For the first time in a week, Gale feels the sweet draw of a peaceful sleep.

When Bucky kisses his cheek, he opens his eyes to look at the plastic stars again.

A few weeks ago, when Bucky had a cold and he came over to cuddle him for a few hours, Bucky told him that he had put those stars up with his dad not long before his parents divorced, but they didn’t finish the whole ceiling. His dad left and had almost no contact whatsoever with Bucky since. All that remains is the longing, an old sheepskin jacket and the stars on the ceiling. Although Gale wouldn’t mind if his own dad wasn’t around, he tries to sympathize. It’s not like he can ever understand, of course, but... well, he tries to do things for Bucky that he would like himself.

"Oh." He covers his face with a hand when he remembers what he has been carrying in his backpack since before their fight. "I forgot to give you your present!"

"Huh?" Bucky pushes himself up, confused, then laughs along with Gale as Gale fumbles to find the light switch. When the bedside lamp finally turns on, they squint at each other blearily in its glow.

A bit self-conscious in his checkered long-sleeved pjs, Gale climbs off the bed and pads over to his schoolbag, where he hopes his gift survived the past few days. He roots around a bit before he emerges triumphant with the small bag wrapped in a Marvel comic page because Bucky's obsessed with those.

Bucky beams in joy at the sight. "Why do I get a gift?" He asks after he takes it from Gale and starts picking at the wrapping.

Gale plops down next to him and tucks his growing hair behind his ear. "For our two-month anniversary." He says, grinning when Bucky gives him a smirk for using that term.

When his gaze drops back to the package, Bucky’s smile fades. "I, uh, got you some chocolate." He gives Gale an apologetic look. "But after - you know. I ate it."

For a moment, Gale stares into Bucky’s sad puppy eyes, then his lips wobble and he bursts into a laugh. "Oh my God."

"I'll buy you something tomorrow!"

Still giggling, Gale lets himself list to the side until his arm bumps into Bucky’s. "It’s okay. I'm not mad."

"Now I feel guilty though." Bucky pouts, but he throws an arm around Gale's shoulders as the contents of his gift finally spill over his lap.

Glow-in-the-dark stars and adhesive.

What Gale expects is a grin and a kiss, and Bucky rambling on about how he finally has enough stars to fill in the gaps on his ceiling, maybe an invitation to do it together, but there’s only silence at first. It’s unusual enough that he starts to worry. Was it a bad idea? Did he do something wrong? He chews at his bottom lip, but tries to find reassurance in the fact that Bucky hasn't pulled his arm back.

"You remembered." Bucky says quietly.

"Of course I remembered." Gale says, surprised that Bucky didn't think that was evident. "It’s important to you. So now it’s important to me too."

A part of Gale worries that he’s being too emotional, too sentimental. Maybe it's too much after only two months? He tried to research anniversary presents but there was no clear answer on the internet. It’s not like he can do much anyway, he barely gets any money from his mom.

The longer the silence stretches on, the more anxious Gale feels, but then, Bucky finally looks up at him, and the raw emotion in his eyes is enough to tell him that it wasn’t a mistake after all.

"Thank you." Bucky says quietly, then tangles his fingers in Gale's hair and gives him a lingering kiss that makes Gale's heartbeat race in joy. When he pulls back, he drops his face to Gale's neck, wraps his arms around him and starts giggling.

"What?" Gale smiles, stroking Bucky’s back.

After a few seconds, Bucky pulls back and kisses him again. "I was going to ask you if -" He bites his lip, uncharacteristically shaky with his words from some strange mix of joy and nerves that puzzles Gale. "- if you'd help me take them off."

Gale stops functioning for a moment. "You want to take them off?"

Bucky cracks a breathy laugh. "Yeah. I thought about it a few weeks ago. I thought we could - it could be a date, I mean - it's dumb but I feel like I don't need them anymore." He looks away, then back at Gale again. "Because I have you."

"Oh." Gale looks at his hands in his lap, trying to process it.

Bucky, who refused to let even his mom touch those stars, is now ready to take them off with Gale's help because of Gale. It doesn't even matter that this makes Gale's present pointless - the warmth of love fills Gale from head to toe. It kind of sounds like as if he was important to Bucky. More important than a memory from the father who left him. After two months. Gale doesn’t really know what this means, but... He likes it. Feeling like he matters is the most amazing thing he has ever experienced.

Slowly, a smile spreads over his face until he’s grinning at Bucky. He gives Bucky's shoulder a light shove. "You’re the least romantic boyfriend ever."

"Shut up, I can be romantic." Bucky laughs and tackles him back on the mattress. "I'm so romantic, you won’t even know what hit you."

"Your bony elbow?"

Bucky snorts, and they wrestle and banter until Gale’s out of breath from laughing and he’s sure his hair stands up in cowlicks. That’s when Bucky throws himself down next to him with his phone in his hand.

"Let’s take a selfie."

"Now?" Frowning, Gale holds up a hand to cover his face. He’s a mess in ugly pjs, and he's pretty sure he has a red spot on his chin too. Utterly unflattering. "No, come on."

"Gaaale." Bucky pleads, turning to his side to cling to Gale. "I'm bored of my wallpaper."

"Just download something."

"I'm bored of that too." Bucky whines. "Please, we don’t take enough selfies. I want to remember this day."

Gale peeks out between his fingers only to see his half-hidden face and tangled hair on the screen of the phone Bucky holds up above them. Grinning, Bucky snaps the photo, then chortles when Gale groans, closes his eyes and drops his hands in defeat.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

When Gale looks up again and sighs, Bucky turns his head, and they meet each other's eyes. Happiness passes between them like a wave of warmth. With an indulgent smile, Gale leans forward and presses his lips to Bucky's.

Snap.

That last selfie ends up being Bucky's wallpaper for months to come until he breaks his phone playing soccer with Curt.

[pillow-anime-talk]

I meant nsfw 41 and hades with fem plz

Sry about that

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; romance; smut; goddess!reader; a bit of ooc!hades; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex, vanilla sex, sex on deck, in clothes, praise kink, body worship, wet kisses, pet names

includes: female reader ft. hades {ror}

author’s note: hades, my beloved

41. “Of course. I am yours. Only yours.”

You were in the middle of reading the fifth volume of novels written by Erato – the Greek Muse who specialized in romantic poetry. Her books were some of the best you’ve ever read; they always had the same strong effect on your mind, soul and body, causing tons of blushes, smiles, and sometimes tears of various emotions. But after a few more minutes, you put the tome down on the table next to your huge chair covered with sheepskin, then stretched your muscles with a quiet grunt. You decided to leave the enormous bedroom smelling of roses and silk, and then walked a dozen more steps to finally find yourself in your husband’s office.

The room was dim, and the only light that fell on the wall was there thanks to several candles placed on special, high metal stands. The room smelled of clean paper, pen ink and perfume your partner had used for hundreds of years. With a smile and love in your eyes, you looked at the tall god sitting in the middle of the room by the desk and then said ‘Hello’ to him. Hades just nodded with a soft smirk, and after a short second he invited you closer. You took pride of place on his massive thighs.

“What’s wrong, my Queen? Are you feeling unwell or hungry?” He asked, bringing his face closer to you, then leaned against your shoulder, inhaling the pleasant scent of floral perfume. Your presence gave the Underworld many colors, sounds and smells.

“I just missed you.” You answered honestly, pushing your back tighter into the man’s warm chest. “Is it wrong or indecent? My Lord?” You asked, turning slightly to face him. Your cheeks were rosy and your voice sounded like birds singing in the morning. There was an amused glint in your eyes, and your hands were warm and smooth. The pen that had been in the dominant hand of the King of Death hit the oak wood, and its owner brought your body much closer to his; this time Hades’s hands didn’t touch the papers but your hips. “Oh?”

You were the Goddess of Lust, Fertility and Family Harmony. So it was obvious that your dear husband always warmly received your not so obvious gestures or requests. You were extremely beautiful and incredibly intelligent; your person could easily compete in beauty with Aphrodite, Apollo or Eros.

“You always show up when I miss you the most and want you the most...” He whispered again, gently kissing your earlobe. “Are you doing this on purpose, my dearest?” He asked lightly amused, and you merely twisted your body so that you could look at the face of the God of the Netherworld in his full glory.

“I just feel your thoughts, Hades.” You replied, allowing the two of you to kiss after a short while. The touch of his hands was gentle, peaceful. Yours, on the other hand, is a bit more greedy and self-confident, so you decided to undo the buttons on his maroon shirt. Visible abdominal muscles caused another pretty blush on your nose, and you only brought your hips closer to the massive crotch. “Can we do it here?” You asked, looking out of the corner of your eye at the dark desk.

Hades would never refuse his Queen. He quickly pushed aside the documents that are worth nothing to him at the moment, and then tenderly placed your body in the middle. He pushed your legs apart in one move, placing himself between your soft thighs. Another kiss – a little harder and longer – led to your underwear being pushed to the side. After a short second, between the next dozen of kisses, your husband lowered his pants and underwear, and his wet cock touched your pussy.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” He asked softly, touching his forehead to yours. You nodded confidently.

“Of course. I am yours. Only yours.” You replied, sighing a bit as you felt a pleasant warmth between your legs. “H-Hades.” A meek moan escaped your lips as his hips moved for the first time. Soft, yet strong and deep.

“You are perfect.” He said, catching your hips in a tight grasp one more time. “The most beautiful, the sweetest. I love your body and lips. My precious Queen.”

A lovely smile appeared on your face as Hades sped up and you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist. Light bites, firm grips on your body, deep breaths.

This moment could last forever for the two of you.

[jenroses]

Still more applied fork theory:

Problem: Sitting at a computer is Bad For Me for a variety of reasons, including back problems caused by arthritis/EDS/scoliosis, clotting risk caused by genetic clotting disorder, fatigue caused by ME/CFS. Also I have migraines and sensory issues and really need to control the light around me.

Solution: Instead of using a chair/desk setup, I use the following:

A twin XL adjustable bed (I got mine from Amazon but the quality has been so-so, I ended up needing to prop part of it up on jack stands because the legs were not Up To The Task. The motor is good? IDK, shop around.)

With a cheap extra firm memory foam mattress

a softer memory foam topper (very cheap: I ordered a queen and cut it into 2 pieces, one for my wheelchair and one for the bed)

Tencel bedsheets (sensory GOOD, Brielle are not terribly expensive)

1 overstuffed memory foam bits pillow that came with the mattress covered with a dark colored tencel pillowcase goes under the mouse hand

2 squishmallows, one under my knees and one that goes between me and the bedrail to support my elbow (the big ones from costco)

A squishy memory foam travel U-shaped pillow for my neck to keep it well aligned (cheap cheap cheap)

And a bedrail that straps around the bedframe to hold it in place.

My kids mounted a rail system to the ceiling and we hung blackout curtains from it, so I can shut out all external light if need be. This was surprisingly inexpensive.

In the winter, I use one of those big old fake sheepskin rugs from costco under my head and shoulders for cozy. And sometimes an electric blanket.

The room is air conditioned with a window air conditioner, and I have a remote

There is an air filter running 24/7 in this room because I spend so much time here and am allergic to my cats who I love very much.

This bed is next to the wall, daybed style. The computer setup is as follows:

A desktop computer on a shelf. I built the computer in a dark case with no RGB parts and did not plug in the LED front panel sensors.

A monitor on a monitor arm.

A metal shelf that mounts between the monitor and the monitor arm that I attached my speakers and webcam to.

Another shelf above it for miscellany.

A little basket over my shoulder for sundries

A gooseneck clamp for my phone mounted to the shelf (I have one of these upstairs mounted to my headboard, too. They're very easy to move the clamp, very secure, and sturdy as heck.)

A Logitech k360 wireless keyboard rests on my belly (and sometimes on a pillow on my belly if my wrists are being tetchy)

I use a vertical mouse (sometimes Jellycomb, currently this one) on the stiff pillow next to me. The wrist position is extremely neutral. I set my mouse sensitivity to high so I don't have to move my wrist very much.

I use Edifier noise canceling headphones when I need to block out extraneous sound

creative pebbles speakers and a Logitech c920 webcam, but that's not mission critical

To make it easier to turn my computer on and off, I got a magnetic button to stick to the side of the case so I can reach better from the bed.

This puts my whole body in a neutral, optimal circulation position where the monitor is well aligned to my head and neck and my hands and wrists are aligned and supported and I need to expend minimal energy when at the computer. Everything is close at hand and I can easily control my environment for light, temperature and sound. I raise the knees and head of the bed to a "zero g" position and use the squishmallows and pillows to further support things as needed. The wireless keyboard and mouse are very helpful.

For me, the logitech k360 is a combination of lightweight, relatively small while still being "full size", light touch, and "soft clicky" as well as widely available and cheap as fuck. It's also pretty resilient to being dropped or spilled on, and if it does break, it's cheap and fast to replace at a nearby store same-day. Preferences for keyboards are highly individual, this one just works very well for me. When my hands and shoulders were bad due to RA, I got two of them and (using both dongles plugged into separate USB ports) put one under each hand in the most neutral positions possible for a cheap-ass version of a split keyboard. Two of these are half the cost of most split keyboards.

This pic is from before we put up the blackout curtains. Yes, that's the fridge behind my head.

[illustratus]

A Guardian Angel Rescuing Emperor Maximilian from the Martinswand

by Alfred Rethel

The young emperor is in great danger as he gazes into the abyss. According to a popular Tyrolean legend, Maximilian I (1459-1519) supposedly got completely lost in the mountains while out hunting chamois near Innsbruck. On the third day, as if by a miracle, a mysterious man appeared and led the exhausted monarch back into the valley. Contrary to a previous idea of depicting the rescuer as an angel, Rethel shows him here as a shepherd in a sheepskin, albeit illuminated from behind by a supernatural light.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

At one combat range targets popped up and we shot at them as we advanced through the range. It was probably February or March of 1944, and by then most of the men I knew were totally unhappy with our company commander, Captain Sobel. We worried about having him lead us into battle. Sobel sometimes wore a big sheepskin jacket with a lot of wool around the collar. Just before target practice one day he walked out on the range ahead of us. A few guys started shooting really close to where he stood. Pretty soon we were all shooting close to his head as he moved forward. It was live ammunition. Nobody was trying to hit him. We just thought he’d get the message. We were putting shots about a foot from his head. I’d say a dozen shots were aimed as close to Sobel as possible. He just sort of waved, his back facing us as he led us through the combat range.

~ Ed Tipper

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Hot Blooded

Day 15. Gale x Tav. Song is Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys.

'Ah! Hello!' Doe was no sooner through the door of the bar than her hand was being taken by her handsome neighbour, a warm smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Gale. You're Doe, right? You just moved in next door.'

'Yeah,' she said, smiling back. 'This is such a nice community. Good to meet you properly, Gale.'

'My pleasure,' he said, drawing her forward by the hand. 'Have a drink with me?'

'Why not.'

He led her through the packed space, winding through rustic wooden tables towards the open fire in the corner. A huge grey wolfhound was sprawled on a sheepskin rug, warming itself.

'Oh, that's a beautiful animal,' she said.

'Morgaine's a sweet girl,' said Gale softly. 'What are you drinking, angel?'

'Oh, um...' Doe pressed her fingers to her lips in thought. 'Mermaid whiskey, please.'

'Classic,' he said in approval. 'Be right back.' He winked, and she felt warmth rise in her cheeks. His dark eyes were like pools of molten chocolate, sweet and inviting.

As he left, the big wolfhound got to her feet and loped over, laying her head on Doe's knee. 'Hello, sweet girl,' she said, petting her ears gently. 'Morgaine, was it?' The dog wagged her tail in response, leaning into her touch. 'You beautiful thing.'

'Beauty recognises beauty,' said a voice. It was smooth and deep. 'Forgive the interruption, if you would,' he said, taking Gale's seat.

'Oh,' said Doe, pausing to look up at the stranger. 'Is she yours?'

'She certainly is,' he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. 'And she has a knack for reading people.' He tilted his head. 'I hear you're new blood.'

Something about him is unsettling. He was handsome but unassuming, brown eyed with dark hair swept neatly back.

'Something like that,' she said. 'Ah, here comes Gale now.'

She watched his approach, two glasses of whiskey in his tanned hands. 'Raphael,' he said tightly, setting down a whiskey slightly too hard in front of Doe. 'Are you bothering my new neighbour? We've talked about this.'

'Easy,' drawled Raphael, glancing up at him. 'I won't bite.'

'Let the poor girl enjoy her drink.'

'I wouldn't dream of anything else.'

Gale's warm brown eyes hardened, lips pulling back in a snarl. 'We're going to talk later. Leave us.'

'Hmm. Well, my dear,' he said, turning back to Doe. 'Do enjoy your drink, even if the company leaves something to be desired.' He stood, bowed, and strode off, straight-backed and imperious, the huge wolfhound on his heels.

'You know each other huh?'

'Something like that. Sorry about him.'

Doe shrugged. 'It's fine. I don't mind.'

'You should,' Gale said sharply, exhaling through his nose. 'Sorry. He's just... he has a reputation.'

'I see.'

'You're safe with me, I promise. Cheers.' He held up his whiskey glass, clinked it with hers. 'To new beginnings. And new friendships.'

'New beginnings and friendships,' she echoed, taking a sip. She smirked slyly. 'Friends, eh?'

'Well, yes,' he said, matching her smile. 'You'll forgive me for wanting to get to know the pretty girl next door?'

'You'll have to point her out.'

He barked a laugh. 'Well. She's this dark eyed, dark haired siren of a girl, really gorgeous. Way out of my league.'

'Hardly,' she said.

'Oh?' He quirked a brow, mouth pulling into a grin. 'Well... would she like to go on a date?'

'Isn't this one?' she asked lightly.

His eyes darkened a little. 'Hmmm. I think so.' He reached over, drew a finger over her wrist. 'I'm renting a room upstairs. Come and find me. First, I need to deal with him...' he tossed his head at Raphael irritably, sending his brown hair cascading across his shoulders.

'But-' she tried. 'Our drinks...'

But he was gone. With a sigh, she sipped her drink and stared into the fire. Around her, the bar gradually emptied, the fire dying down to glowing embers.

'My dear.' That smooth purr again. A moment later, Raphael was across from her, leaning across the table. 'Doubtless Gale has told you I have a reputation.'

'He told me not to talk to you,' she said.

'Oh? And do you always do as you're told?' He smirked. 'Well, little Doe? You don't seem the type to take orders...'

'I'm not,' she snapped, feeling a flush rise up her neck. 'I really should be going. It's late.' She stood, turning towards the door, but his large hand caught her by the elbow.

'Stay,' he whispered. It was soft and beguiling; she felt herself relax in his grip, letting herself be guided, and then-

'RAPHAEL!' A roar shook the room, a boom of fury. Doe barely had time to register its source before she was pulled from Raphael's grip and pushed backward, stumbling. As she watched, wide-eyed, Gale leapt for the other man, shoving him against the wall with his hand at his throat. 'Enough,' he hissed, venom dripping from his voice. 'Leave her alone.'

'So that's how it's going to be, is it? How disappointing...'

'Shit,' said Doe, tripping over her own feet to get to the door.

'I don't think so, little morsel,' said Raphael, snapping his fingers. With a clunk, the doors locked. Then she turned, watching in horror as flames engulfed him; he grew at least a foot taller, enormous wings unfurling from his shoulders, great horns spiralling upward. He bared fangs, growling down at her neighbour.

'Gale!' she cried out in fear for him, surging forward to pull him back.

'Don't!' he commanded. Doe watched helplessly as the same flames consumed him, staring slack-jawed as he stood of a height with Raphael, tail lashing from side to side. He snarled, a deep rumble she felt in her own chest, clawed fingers closing on Raphael's throat.

Cambions.

Raphael laughed, yellow eyes boring into yellow eyes. 'Oh, here we are again, little brother. Are you really going to debase yourself fighting over a mortal girl? Give up. Her sweet soul is mine.'

'Like Hells,' snarled Gale. His horns were dagger sharp, shining in the dying firelight. 'Not this time. Touch her and I'll kill you.'

A thrill went through her. His voice had dropped to a dangerous pitch, and she felt her heart quicken.

Shit. He's hot.

'Come here, little Doe,' said Raphael, extending a hand even as he was pinned to the wall. A peculiar sensation washed over her, and she felt her feet move without her input. 'See how the sweet little thing obeys, brother? I think she's made her choice...'

'No.' She said. She rooted to the floor, resisting the pull of strange magic.

'You have a death wish,' breathed Gale. 'Go home, before I send you back.'

'Slink away in defeat? I think not.' He shoved Gale backward, sending him sprawling, and stalked forward, winding his tail possessively around Doe's waist.

'Let go of me,' she hissed, baring her teeth. He laughed throatily, indulgently.

'Oh, go on. Bite me if you wish, delightful creature.'

'She doesn't,' came a hiss at his ear, Gale's arm hooked around his neck. 'Fuck off.' With a flex of his arm and a sickening snap, he let Raphael fall lifeless to the bar floor, head lolling on his broken neck. Moments later, he was gone in a flare of hellsfire.

'What the hells,' whispered Doe hoarsely. Gale stepped forward and she was acutely aware that he was enormous; his wings stretched to obscure everything else, his tail sent the table behind him to splinters, and she barely came up to his chest.

'Sorry about him,' he said, reaching out to cradle her face in one huge clawed hand. 'But he's gone now. He won't hurt you.'

'You're really hot,' she blurted without thinking. 'Gods, fuck, sorry. I didn't- I don't-'

'Oh?' His demeanour changed. A mischievous glint lit his yellow eyes, his tail winding around her to pull her closer. 'Oh, you poor thing,' he purred. 'You're fucking desperate.' He looked her over, licking his lips. 'Hells. I can smell how turned on you are.'

She whimpered in response. 'I-'

'Use your words, angel.' He grinned, fangs on show. 'Let me help.'

'Okay,' she breathed. 'Yes.'

'Good girl,' he crooned. Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms. His skin radiated heat. As he strode towards the stairs, he bent his head to kiss her deeply. She sighed into his mouth as his hot tongue pushed past her lips; he nipped gently as he pulled away. 'So sweet...' With care, he settled her on his bed; he dwarfed her, covering her body and splaying his wings in a canopy above them. 'I can't promise I'll be gentle,' he whispered. With a snap of his fingers, their clothes burned away. 'Tell me if it hurts.'

Doe nodded. He was huge and already hard; clearly the confrontation had been a thrill for him, too. She closed her eyes, bracing for the pain.

'No, angel. Look at me.' She opened her eyes, felt him brace against the headboard as she held his gaze. Then, with delicious slowness, he eased inside her. The stretch should have been painful, but her thighs were sticky with arousal and he slid smoothly, groaning into her shoulder. 'Fuck,' he growled. 'Fuck, you're such a little thing. You're going to be good for me and stay quiet, sweet girl.'

She whined softly as she adjusted to the feel of him, gasping when he shifted, rolling his hips as his teeth latched on her throat. 'Yes-'

'That's not staying quiet,' he said, amused. With a dark little laugh, he slipped the tip of his tail between her teeth and over her tongue. 'Shhhhh.'

Her eyes widened, tears gathering as she gagged, but he didn't withdraw. In fact it seemed to spur him on and he snapped his hips forward, causing her to give a choked cry.

'Fuck, look at you. Choking on my tail and full of my cock... I'm not sure your little body can take everything, angel, but we'll find out...'

He dragged slowly out of her and thrust forward again; she could do nothing but take it, pinned as she was. The pleasure was almost too much; his mouth closed gently on a nipple and sucked and she bucked beneath him. He chuckled against her skin, gathered her into his arms like a doll as he fucked into her, growling at the cries her full mouth couldn't get out.

'Hells,' he hissed. 'You're so beautiful like this, such a good obedient girl for me...' He pulled her to him, going deeper as he withdrew his tail, watching as she gulped in air. 'Oh, Doe, look at you. I want you to come.' One last thrust and she did, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her by the hips, driving viciously into her in quick sharp thrusts, chasing his own high; with a snarl he poured into her in huge hot spurts, rolling onto his back as his high abated to not crush her beneath him. 'Do I feel good?' he asked huskily, gazing up at her. 'Does it feel good to be so full?'

'Yes,' she gasped. 'Fuck, yes.'

He cradled the back of her head, kissing her sweetly. 'You took me so well.' He smirked, a wicked gleam in his eye. 'I hope you're prepared to go again...'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

[sewer-swan]

my mission to be impervious to winter has led me to a big afghan coat, maybe my favourite clothing purchase of all time, spill of sheepskin like a medieval painting, leather so old it's as supple and soft as cotton. wool duvet, wool throw blanket. even learned to get the heating working. I never want to go another winter with my hands so cold and numb, miserable with the chill. That old house was not fit for human habitation.

[ihaveastorminme]

Two of the women neared, holding between them what looked to be a rectangular ceremonial robe, like the ones Val had seen on Mother Mole when she led prayer. But Mother Mole’s had been white, made of woven wool over sturdy sheepskin and with beautiful decorations along the hems: snowflakes flue as frost and all-watching eyes of weirdwood-red. Sansa Stark’s was of the deepest black. So dark was its color that the designs woven into it seemed brighter by contrast: vivid bursts of red flowers and green vines over the arms, ice-blue roses adorning the back. Her figure disappeared completely under it as the two girls put it around her shoulders, while a third held the Stark woman’s hair out of the way. The small one with dark curls crossed the ribbons beneath the cloak on the Stark’s chest and wrapped them around her waist, pinning the cloak in place on her shoulders, just as Val had done for Dalla so many times.

What would her sister have thought of this creature, trapped in this place, watched like some treasure, able to do nothing but wait for someone else to risk their life to save her? What if Jon had not been here, to send her the help she so easily mistook for treachery? Did she even appreciate what so many were here to do for her? The risk they had taken? 

Val looked away. Deservingly or not, resentful or not, Dalla would have been kinder to someone with so few choices; Val knew that much.

Two wolf pins linked by a chain were placed on both the Stark woman’s shoulders. The one that had tied the cloak took the circlet from the one named Elena. Sansa Stark bowed, so that the shorter woman could place it on her head. That ornament too was made of iron, with round coins of copper hanging from it, adorning the Stark’s forehead. Along the rest of its circumference hung lines of small metal rings linked together, reaching her waist in length, forming a curtain reminiscent of chainmail.

The only thing missing were the weirwood branches to crown her.

“I was told this place had no true godswoood.”

Stark looked at her. “It does not.”

“Then where is it that you go, dressed as a Speaker?” Val asked then.

how ruthless are the gentle -

[cloudylord147]

**Asgard, Vol. 1, : Thor,s gift 

Epilogue:

The treasure room was where my father, Odin, kept all the relics he had won in battle. With a commanding presence, Odin extended his hand, beckoning both Loki and Thor to follow him as he led them into the room.  

The Einherjar, the elite guards of Asgard, stood tall and rigid in front of the entrance, their postures as unyielding as trees rooted deep in the earth. Their faces were stoic, devoid of emotion, as all Asgardian warriors were trained to be. Their golden helmets shine with brightness and eagerness for battle.

Inside, the treasure room was filled with artifacts of immense power and history. Loki's eyes darted from one relic to another until his gaze landed on a peculiar blue rectangle. It glowed softly and exuded a cold aura that seemed to seep into the very air around it.  

"Father," Loki asked, his voice laced with curiosity, "what is this?"  

Before Odin could answer, Loki reached out to touch it. His father’s hand lashed out in an instant, slapping Loki's hand away with a force that made him recoil in shock. Also, Thor twitched with shock as his father yelled at Loki which wasn’t uncommon to happen. 

"You must never touch the relics here!" Odin thundered, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, both boys stood as still as possible. 

Odin spoke again in a wise voice and spoke to both the boys with caution in his tone and also hesitation about what he was going to say. The casket of ancient winters would have frozen you to death loki.

 Odin the. Told the story of how he fought the Frost Giants to save the nine realms from their plan to turn everything into an icy wasteland. Look nodded in understanding 

“Boys,” Odin  said calmly to bed 

Chapter 1: A Menacing Trick 

Loki looks at the room of his chambers with boredom as he rubs his sore cheeks. He had previously been slapped and kicked by Lady Sif multiple times for cutting a lock of her hair as a silly trick. 

Loki smirked to himself thinking about the prank. He rubbed his bruised thigh as he moved his finger through his hair. He thought hard about the recent event but concluded it was just hair and it would merely grow in a matter of no time. Loki licked his lips and tasted the metallic taste of blood. Green light emitted from his hands and touched his lips. It felt warm and comfortable as he repaired the wounds. 

 He headed to his bathing room with a fine Asgard wine and a book of the finest pomes there. He opened the wine and poured himself a glass the wine's aroma was sweet and with a slight smell of raspberries. Loki has a sudden moment of drought as he thinks of what Sif said: “You deserve to be alone and you will always be”.

His mind starts to race, about how alone he has been since Thor has been mostly with the Warriors Three and Sif. He felt empty with no emotion. Suddenly he sat with himself for a long while. as the feeling of darkness and pain slowly crept through the whole body. He took a breath and snuck himself deeper into the Bathtub. 

Then there was a boom coming through his chamber doors, loki quickly clicked his finger to dry himself and dress into his royal robes.” Loki” Thor spoke angrily. As Thor was saying this, Loki slowly led his head through the entrance to his bedroom. 

Thor stood across the room at the end of the bedroom and of course, he left his boots on and trended the carpet floor with a dirty footprint.  Thor spoke with the shaking voice of an angry lady sif is distorted with your distasteful actions 

oh it's such a pity, isn't it? Loki mumbled Sarcastically. Suddenly in a fit of anger, Thor slacked Loki on the cheek and said to his brother you really can be the worst, can't you? 

Loki whispered to himself it was meant to be a harmless jest, however, Thor had long left the chambers to hear Loki's response. And he doubted he would care. 

Loki flopped himself onto his bed and grabbed his thick sheepskin hide blanket. Waved his hand aggressively to blow out the candles. Pulled up his bedclothes hastily around him and fell asleep without hesitation. 

 Loki woke up groggy and with an immense headache from probably having too many glasses of wine last night. Loki Squints his eyes as light penetrates them. He wipes the heavy sweat from his brow as  He combs his hair back. With a sudden flicking of his waist to cast a simple spell to make his nails black. Loki suddenly remembers that Thor is having a great feast today. His stomach started to curl inside itself as dreaded thoughts of feast days came along like a Hurricane. As well as enviously listening to Odin speak of all of Thor's recent achievements on the battlefield. Always made him feel adequate to thor. 

Also didn’t help that on the last feast day Loki played a humorous trick on royal Asgard ladies by having a waiter serve an illusion of snakes that he had conjured. Causing a panic in the feast hall. Also ruining the event for the day for everyone. Odin threatened to put a muzzle on Loki if ever humiliated him again on the feast day. After the whole predicament, Odin yelled at Frigga, Loki's mother for teaching him magic. Ioki exceptionally hates it when my father gets mad at his mother. loki much rather have been yelled at for his actions

The feast hall was full of excited muffles and the occasional laugh thrown into the mix. The Einherjar stood proudly in two single-file lines ready for Thor to make his entrance. Suddenly when Odin spoke the crowd fell to silence. It was so quiet in fact that one would hear a pin drop. Loki stood awkwardly beside his mother, having a face of clear dread and frustration. Thor walked in and kneeled in front of Odin with great ambition. Odin spoke again “Thor Odinson my firstborn child, I have entrusted you with Mjolnir, forged in the heart of dying star and crafted by the dwarfs I hear now to pass down Mjolnir to you.

With Mjolnir, you will protect the nine realms from harm. Thor Odin wisely spoke of swearing to protect the nine realms and placing his own ambitions aside to do so. Thor spoke loudly and proudly, saying “I do,” as his father handed Thor Mjolnir. Loki looked melancholy at Thor as he looked down quickly to hide his pain. Loki thought to himself how he wished to be as worthy as Thor. 

[jackoshadows]

Listening to the AFfC and ADwD audiobooks and it just hit me in the face with my unconscious biases.

Asoiaf ramblings under the cut...

The Jaime AFfC chapters just reinforced my dislike of the character - I saw no redemption, just a Lannister helping the loathsome Freys and his own house/family strengthen their stranglehold on the Riverlands. From doing nothing about poor Jeyne Poole being send North to marry Ramsay Bolton to threatening Stark allies in the Riverlands, Jaime is only concerned about the Lannisters coming out on top.

Jaime keeps making excuses for his support of the Freys being in direct opposition to his oaths to Catelyn by using the literal meaning of not fighting with a sword. All the while threatening to trebuchet Edmure's baby, taking Catelyn's family as hostages and even adding more guards when they are being transported so that there is no chance of escape or anyone freeing them. It's especially galling because for me the Freys are such loathsome cockroaches while poor Edmure has all my sympathy.

Which is why I am 100% for Ladystoneheart wrecking havoc in the Riverlands. Everytime there is a mention of the wolves or a band of outlaws taking down Lannister allies in the Jaime POV chapters it makes me so excited for the Freys/Lannisters getting utter wrecked!

If LSH wants to hang Jaime Lannister for crimes committed, I am here for it! I can understand where Brienne is coming from considering he saved her from unimaginable horror and yet the man deserves to hang.

And then I was listening to ADwD, and there's Jon's chapter of letting the Wildlings through the Wall after negotiation with Tormund and it struck me that as far as the Freefolk are concerned, Jon Snow is really not a nice guy is he?

The hostages went first—one hundred boys between the ages of eight and sixteen. “Your blood price, Lord Crow,” Tormund declared. “I hope the wailing o’ their poor mothers don’t haunt your dreams at night.” Some of the boys were led to the gate by a mother or a father, others by older siblings. More came alone. Fourteen and fifteen-year-old boys were almost men, and did not want to be seen clinging to a woman’s skirts. Two stewards counted the boys as they went by, noting each name on long sheepskin scrolls. A third collected their valuables for the toll and wrote that down as well. The boys were going to a place that none had ever been before, to serve an order that had been the enemy of their kith and kin for thousands of years, yet Jon saw no tears, heard no wailing mothers. These are winter’s people, he reminded himself. Tears freeze upon your cheeks where they come from. Not a single hostage balked or tried to slink away when his turn came to enter that gloomy tunnel. Almost all the boys were thin, some past the point of gauntness, with spindly shanks and arms like twigs. - Jon, ADwD

And this is where GRRM's oft mentioned quote comes into the play -

The villain is the hero of the other side, as sometimes said. That doesn’t mean that it’s all morally relative. That doesn’t mean that all things are equally good and evil. I think there is good and there is evil in the world, but I regard the struggle between good and evil as being waged within the individual human heart. ------ I’ve been always very impressed by Homer and his Iliad, especially the scene of the fight between Achilles and Hector. Who is the hero and who is the villain? That’s the power of the story and I wanted something similar to my books. The hero of one side is the villain of the other side. - GRRM

I sympathize with the Tullys and the Starks because we get their POV chapters and have spend time with them and are strongly pro Stark, pro Tully etc. And yet we get no such POV for the Freefolk even though characters like Mance Rayder are righteous in their goals, are shut off from the rest of the realm with a Wall and are only trying to survive.

Davos is often celebrated as being a voice of the Smallfolk despite supporting someone like Stannis Baratheon and yet I feel like Mance Rayder is where that praise should ideally go to. His freefolk parents killed by the NW, raised by the NW, experiencing first hand their bigotry and truly trying to help his people by gathering them together and getting to safety on the other side of the Wall. Like literally this should have been Jon Snow when defending the Wall against the Freefolk getting through...

And this is also why I dislike the double standards when it comes to Jon and Dany, both of noble houses, both their arcs as leaders having parallels in it's complexity and nuance - they both make morally grey and ruthless decisions and yet it's only Daenerys who is often called out on hers. Jon Snow's arc would be as much of a 'white savior' arc as Dany's and the only reason it isn't deemed as such is because of GRRM's orientalization of Essos. And that's a flaw of the writer, not the character.

[fatehbaz]

The Caribbean entered modern history “as the pawn of European power politics, the cockpit of Europe, the arena of Europe’s wars hot and cold,” wrote Eric Williams almost a half century ago [...]. Indeed, Shalini Puri and Lara Putnam argue that military operations and the political culture of militarism make for the coherence of the region [...].

Certain zones -- including Guantánamo, the subject of the collection by Don E. Walicek and Jessica Adams -- have borne special, enduring burdens in this regard. [...] The Caribbean moved into the twentieth century on a major martial note. In 1898 the United States intervened into the armed Cuban anticolonial struggle against Spain, [...] and taking on the imaginary white man’s burden. For North Americans, the many consequences of this speedy and “splendid” war included the appropriation of Cuba’s Guantánamo Bay (1903) for use as the republic’s first overseas naval base. [...] Diana Coleman, for example, locates the symbolic significance of the base and prison in a deeper past, a history that goes back to the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago. [...] Walicek’s essay establishes that the very embeddedness of Guantánamo in an imperial past has been erased by official discourse. He notes that even before the post-9/11 war on terror, Haitians and Cubans seeking asylum found themselves detained in Gitmo. [...] Examining visual representations, Esther Whitfield emphasizes the struggle of local artists to show Gitmo, against the cliché as a “no man’s land,” to be a place inhabited by people. [...] The greatest physical expansion of Gitmo came during World War II, a period of profound militarization across the Caribbean  [...]. Also set in wartime Trinidad, Rita Pemberton’s essay plays up the paradox of food scarcity and insecurity in the midst of Yankee-sponsored prosperity. [...]

---

Meanwhile twenty-first-century Caribbeans have had to deal with a nominally novel form of warfare, the U.S.-led “War on Drugs.” This campaign, Deborah Thomas recounts, pushed Jamaican security forces to invade the Kingston community of Tivoli [...]. How residents have remembered this “Tivoli Incursion” and how their memories expose doubtful feelings about sovereignty in Jamaica is Thomas’s central concern. [...]

Grace Johnson focuses on the early twentieth-century U.S. occupation of Haiti, stressing [...] the way these women played a central role in the protests that eventually led to the end of the occupation. [...]

Vieques also serves as the setting for Daniel Arbino’s piece on the violent history of the U.S. military presence and the protests that led to the demilitarization of the little island in 2004.

Don Walicek brings awareness to the landing of British paratroopers and marines in Anguilla in 1969 after leaders on the island declared “independence” from St. Kitts and Nevis. Little known outside of Anguilla, this British Invasion (“Operation Sheepskin”) reminds us that in the age of decolonization tiny Caribbean societies too were caught up in militant struggles for self-government. Unlike the case of Anguilla, the U.S. invasion of Grenada in 1984 has been the subject of numerous studies [...]

---.

Two other essays concerned with Trinidad also center on music.

Jocelyne Guilbault insightfully links the anxiety about armed violence to the increasing use of militarized policing at the large soca “fetes” that define the island’s Carnival season.

And Louis Regis (recently passed) turns away from the insecurity of soca fetes and toward the texts of songs to examine the treatment of military issues in calypso and soca across the twentieth century. Dealing with a massive discography, Regis stresses a range of themes, showing how lyrics have moved from warning women about predatory policemen, to condemning the U.S. invasion of Grenada and pleading for peace. [...]

---

Text by: Harvey R. Neptune. “A Force in the Field: Recent Interventions into the Military History of the Caribbean.” New West Indian Guide. Online publication date 3 June 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[ravenkings]

Vladimir Putin’s generals vulnerable despite surviving revolt – FT

There was no sound on the brief video of Sergei Shoigu published on Monday morning or any indication of where Russia’s defence minister was as he pored over a battlefield map. 

 But the seemingly mundane footage was the first evidence that Shoigu was still in his job. Neither he nor Valery Gerasimov, commander of Russia’s invasion force, have been seen in public since Yevgeny Prigozhin launched an extraordinary coup attempt to oust them on Friday. 

Though Prigozhin and his Wagner paramilitaries ultimately halted their march on Moscow, with the warlord agreeing to leave Russia, he has left both men increasingly vulnerable in his wake. 

The failed revolt has given Russian president Vladimir Putin a stark choice — whether to fire the generals or let them remain in command of his faltering invasion of Ukraine, with both options carrying a significant risk of further blowback both for the war and his regime, analysts say. 

“Shoigu and Gerasimov are so bad in their jobs that it’s dangerous to Putin to leave them in place,” said Dara Massicot, a senior political scientist at the US-based Rand Corporation. “But loyalty and stability are number one for Putin. I just don’t see how he’s going to have these terms dictated to him like this.”

For months, Prigozhin has taken aim at Gerasimov and Shoigu, blaming them for Russia’s military shortcomings in Ukraine and portraying them as inept leaders who were sitting comfortably in Moscow as Russian soldiers died on the battlefield. 

By Sunday, some Russian military analysts were speculating that Shoigu and Gerasimov could be two additional casualties of the failed coup, after Prigozhin and his fighters travelled half the distance from the Ukrainian border to Moscow, captured a military base and took down several army helicopters — all within a matter of hours. 

“Shoigu and Gerasimov are now obvious lame ducks and they will be removed, I think,” said Ruslan Pukhov, director of the Centre for Analysis of Strategies and Technologies, a Moscow-based defence think-tank. He did not exclude the possibility that the two men’s departure could have been part of the brokered deal that led to Prigozhin standing his men down. The Kremlin has denied this. 

The damage to Russia’s prestige has been such that even pro-war commentators on state television and social media admit that the coup called the entire war into question. 

“This is a serious blow to the authority of the country and the authority of the president,” Karen Shakhnazarov, a Kremlin-linked film director, said on a popular online livestream show. “There was a feeling here that everything was unshakeable, and that turned out not to be the case.” 

Should Shoigu and Gerasimov ultimately be forced out, it would mark a dramatic fall for both men — one a player in the slippery Russian political hierarchy, the other a longstanding military official who became the commander of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. 

The first — Shoigu — is the longest-serving minister in Russia who took over the defence brief in 2012 after previously serving for decades as the emergency services minister. That job afforded him a public profile to rival Putin’s, with televised appearances arriving by land or by helicopter at every man-made or natural disaster in the country. 

Over the years, he accompanied Putin on holiday trips to Siberia, the two men posing together foraging for mushrooms; sporting sheepskin coats while dining outside in the snowy setting; and spearfishing shirtless in the summer. 

In more recent years, scrutiny had grown over the fame and business dealings of Shoigu’s family members, who had become targets of hardline ire for their privileged lifestyle and seeming insulation from the war’s consequences.

Gerasimov, meanwhile, feuded with commanders who disagreed with his brutal tactics in Ukraine, which generals and militia members alike thought sacrificed too many men for too few gains. 

Prigozhin’s criticism of Shoigu and Gerasimov — and the Russian military more broadly — has festered for months. In one video this spring Prigozhin railed against the backdrop of a Russian graveyard. “You sit in your expensive nightclubs and your kids enjoy life making YouTube videos . . . These guys are dying so you can get fat in your wood-panelled offices.” 

The reception Wagner’s men got in Rostov shows the popularity of Prigozhin’s tirades against the army leadership. On Saturday morning, when Prigozhin demanded a face-off with Shoigu and Gerasimov, Vladimir Alekseyev, deputy head of Russian military intelligence, laughed: “Take them!”

When Wagner left the southern city that was the launch pad for the coup, crowds waved, cheered and took selfies with Prigozhin — but booed the security forces who came to replace them. 

The main trigger for Prigozhin’s putsch appears to have been Putin’s backing of Shoigu’s move to make Wagner sign contracts with the defence ministry earlier this month. 

“The problem with Wagner was growing, it would reach a crisis point after the [declaration]. Putin was likely warned and did nothing,” Michael Kofman, director of Russia studies at CNA, a US defence think-tank, wrote on Twitter. 

Though Putin publicly backed Shoigu’s efforts, Prigozhin vehemently refused — conscious of the damage such an arrangement would do to his standing as a powerful warlord who answered only to Putin, according to a person who has known him since the 1990s. 

“He understands fully well that if he turns into a zero, then Shoigu would have dealt with him at some point. So he went all out and decided to show Putin that he’s the only real one out there and he needs to be left alone with his money,” the person said. “He got it a bit wrong, and everything went to shit, as it usually does [in Russia].” 

Putin’s biggest mistake, Rand’s Massicot said, was to give Shoigu his backing without finding an acceptable way for Prigozhin to save face. “When he threw his support behind the defence ministry, it basically put a target on Prigozhin’s back,” she said. “A competent statesman would have reached out to offer Prigozhin an incentive, or something to buy him off. Clearly, that wasn’t done.” 

With Prigozhin now in exile, Shoigu’s position could even be strengthened, according to the person who knows the warlord — as Putin will see no reason to fire a loyalist. 

“Shoigu’s the only winner,” the person said. “He’ll be the defence minister forever.”

[drprofwitchlady]

Long ago in the city of Krakow, there was a terrifying creature known as the Wawel Dragon. This dragon would live in a cave on Wawel Hill and terrorize the local villagers. Its fiery breath would destroy crops, its enormous wings would create strong winds, and its mighty roar would send fear into the hearts of all who heard it. The people of Krakow were desperate for a solution to rid themselves of the dragon's menace. They offered a reward to anyone who could defeat the creature and bring peace to their city. Many brave knights tried and failed, losing their lives in the process. One day, a clever young cobbler named Krakus came up with a plan to defeat the dragon. He filled a lamb's skin with sulfur and set it outside the dragon's cave. The dragon, enticed by the smell of the lamb, devoured it whole. The sulfur inside caused the dragon to become incredibly thirsty. As the dragon rushed down to the Vistula River to drink, Krakus was waiting for it. He had prepared a sheepskin filled with tar and sulfur and thrown it into the dragon's path. The dragon, unable to quench its thirst, drank from the river and its belly swelled, causing it to become even more sluggish. Seizing the opportunity, Krakus approached the dragon and thrust a spear into its belly, killing it instantly. The people of Krakow rejoiced, grateful to Krakus for his bravery and cunning. Krakus became a hero and was later named the first ruler of Krakow.

To this day, the story of the Wawel Dragon is celebrated in Krakow. A statue of the dragon stands near the entrance to its cave on Wawel Hill, and the dragon's breath is reenacted with fire periodically, delighting visitors and reminding them of the legend that has been passed down through generations.

The tale of the Wawel Dragon is a beloved part of Polish folklore, highlighting the triumph of courage and wit over adversity. It is a reminder that even the most fearsome of creatures can be overcome with determination and resourcefulness.

While the story of the Wawel Dragon is a popular folklore tale in Poland, it is important to note that folklore often draws inspiration from real-life events or elements of local history. However, it's challenging to pinpoint a specific real-life inspiration for the Wawel Dragon story.

In some interpretations, the Wawel Dragon has been associated with historical events such as volcanic activity or natural disasters that could have led to stories of a destructive creature. Others suggest that the dragon may have symbolized the pagan beliefs and customs that clashed with the spread of Christianity in Poland.

It is also worth mentioning that dragons are a common motif in folklore and mythology worldwide, often representing powerful and mythical creatures that personify various aspects of nature, including chaos, destruction, and rebirth.

While the exact origins and inspirations for the Wawel Dragon story may remain uncertain, it continues to be a cherished part of Polish culture and a reminder of the power of storytelling in shaping collective imagination and identity.

If there is anything you'd like to learn please let me know

[banditcoyote]

"Cats have no loyalty." he said easily and with conviction. "Brutus is okay, he sometimes hangs out with the wolves. Horace disappears if he has time off. I don't like that." The halls were now almost uncomfortably silent compared to all the noises they had just passed through, and as they reached the large double doors at the end of the corridor Raphael placed his hands upon the knobs and went to throw them dramatically open only to stop. "Locked." he frowned, but before he could even open his mouth again Coyote was gesturing for him to get out of the way. "I got it." he smiled taking a seed from behind his ear and pressing it to the key hole to start picking it. Raphael looked on appreciatively. "Such a gentleman, opening doors...." he said with a dreamy little look in his eyes and he smiled down at Sasuga. "You two really are my favorite charges...." he said and started to bend for a kiss just as Coyote managed to get the lock. "Good boy." he said wagging his tail which caused Coyote to flush as he tucked the seed back behind his ear. Raphael kissed him on the cheek and then threw open the doors. The room was massive, all purple and gold, the floor a polished white marble. The bed must have been a custom size as several large demons could certainly fit in it in any direction, and there were massive carved posts of ornate deep cherry wood and iron, creating a convenient looping decoration that no doubt could be used to tether someone or multiple someones to the bed. There were large dyed sheepskin rugs thrown about the floor, a velvet sofa and chaise, and a roaring fire that reflected in the glass that led out to a balcony that overlooked a lit hedge maze behind the house where several demons could be seen running into through the snow, in the lull of quiet their squeals of excitement and laughter could be heard. Raphael turned to Sasuga and smiled. "I think this is where you're supposed to tie me up?"

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[grazhir]

Moving

As usual, I don't recommend it, but needs must. Everything is over bar a couple of things waiting on delivery.

Funny, though, I absolutely cannot find that mattress protector I bought. Maybe once I've broken down all the current boxes and shoved them into a larger one (and can take them over to my brother's) and get the rest of this stuff unboxed, assembled...

Maybe it'll magically appear? Good thing I have two closets, because some boxes I do keep. Thank you shelf in the "living room" closet.

Let's see.

Done:

• two desks • bed frame • mattress-in-a-box on the frame and fully plumped • microwave cart (two shelves underneath) • standing LED lamp • desk chair

Left to go:

• cube storage (plus inserts) - I gotta put my clothes somewhere, the stuff that can't be hung. • pantry cabinet • smaller standing cabinet • kitchen island (tiny, but more storage, maybe pots/pans?) • L-shaped desk • miscellanea (humidifier, air filter, etc.)

Plenty of stuff to find homes for.

Pissed off that I bought garbage bags that fit my desk-side garbage can and not ones big enough for my kitchen garbage can. Who knew an allegedly 13-gallon can should be using 15+ gallon bags?

The point is, I'm in my apartment.

The thermostat was set to 50? I didn't even notice until I began to get a little chilly in just a thin tank+t-shirt. I bumped it to 60 for now, to see how warm it gets in here, and put on a cardigan.

The bed is made (sans mattress protector), and with more than just the duvet (two blankets more).

I have very little cabinet space (hence the pantry cabinet and another cabinet), so I figure the cubes can handle clothing and whatever else needs a home (like those shoes I bought and have literally never worn outside of the house).

I would kind of like a new set of L.L. Bean sheepskin slippers, but wool socks over normal ones will have to do for now.

Somehow I'm already on trash bag #3. Good thing the dumpster is out the front door and straight forward. I'll just have to deliver the cardboard next time I visit my brother's (to do laundry and spend time with my mother).