#danish rope

[pull-up-a-chair]

Mario Martinez - 33 Chair

[fanaticsnail]

A bit of both

Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,900+

Synopsis: You and Rosinante take your trust to a new level, engaging in two levels of weaving you had yet to use in sequence with one another.

Warnings: Rosinante x gn!reader, vibrator play (reader receiving), bondage (reader receiving), gagged (reader receiving), overstimulation, cock warming, dominant Rosinante x submissive reader, service Dom Rosinante, pet names (cara mia, mi amor, little thing), size difference, love confession, established relationship, praising (Rosinante giving), no gendered titles used, insertion sex (reader receiving), 18+, MDNI, smut.

Notes: This was not the fic I was working on, but the service-dom wanted to get out before the mean, jealous one. Ever since I wrote the "T" section for the NSFW Alphabet fic, I needed to see it explored a little more. I hope you enjoy.

Trailing behind you, gift bags lazily slinging from his shoulder with their cord drawstrings caught in his fingers and palm, Rosinante rolled his eyes as you debated with yourself which item you truly wanted from the bakery. Drawing his arm down, he let the bags hang from his wrist as he shoved his hand into his pocket.

“I mean, on the one hand, I do want an almond croissant. The filling is almost like fresh marzipan, and it's so sweet,” you tapped your chin with your fingertips before looking to the other glass display, “But on the other hand, I kind of want something savory like a cheese danish. I don't know about the salt content versus the sugar. If you were to choose one-?”

“-We’ll take an almond croissant and a cheese danish please,” Rosinante held up his hands to the baker, gently shaking his head at you before glancing at the corner of his eye at you. With an arched brow, he placed his Berry on the counter and waited for his change.

“What are you playing at, Rosinante?” you question him linking your arm through his bad leaning on his shoulder, “That's too much, look at the size of them!”

“Take a bite of both of them, and then choose the one you like more,” he gazed down his nose at you with his hazelnut colored eyes, scolding you with his expression. “I'll eat the other one.”

“Smart,” you nod with your pout down-turning. He shot you a sly wink, taking the change and watching the attendant fold the brown bag down at the opening. Pastries already staining the covering with the fat from overly saturated butter, you reached up and made to gather the bags; halting immediately as Rosinante shot you a warning look.

Placing his Berry in your back pocket, he reached up and took the two paper bags in his hands while you laced your hand in the crook of his elbow once more. Sheepishly looking at the ground, you felt him stoop down and press his lips to your temple.

“You know I won't let you lift a finger, mi amor,” the low growl in his deep baritone caused your eyes to flutter closed and spine ignited with pricks of fine needles. Opening your eyes to fall half-lidded, you smile bashfully at him. He pressed his lips atop the apple of your cheek, his soft smile felt in his sweet kiss.

Pastry bags left crumpled in the refrigerator, gift bags lying messily by the door, clothes were scattered and discarded in the hamper in the corner of the room. Shoes placed together in the hallway, the dim light of the room illuminated the skin of your tall lover.

Gazing possessively down at you, his lip paint lay smudged on his cheeks and chin, as your own skin was littered with intentional kisses ranging from your littlest toe to the crown of your head. You pleaded with your eyes, your lips swollen and bruised from being mounted and dominated with his own lips moments prior.

He molded your flesh beneath his hands to worship you, before drawing out a lengthy piece of rope with the intent to accentuate and immobilize your features.

“You've been so good today, mi amor,” he whispered, coiling and knotting the rope over your breasts, “Such a good little thing for me.” You whimpered for him as he parted your thighs and drew one knee up to your wrist, circling it with the fabric.

You open your mouth to speak, his eyes shooting you a look of warning for you to hold your tongue. Elevating your other knee to your wrist, he insured you were snug enough in your ties that you were not uncomfortable. Crawling between your exposed thighs and lowering his chest and stomach over your torso, he smiled down at you with a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Before we start, do you want a sip of water or to finish your danish?” he offered, giving you a sweet and genuine smile, “I can get it out of the fridge for you.” You smiled back in response before shaking your head at him.

“No thank you, sir,” you chirped back at him. He learnt forward, brushing your nose with his own before drawing a woven gag up to your lips. You parted your lips, causing Rosinante to coo down at you in glee.

“So well mannered,” he praised you, “So good.” He pressed his lips over yours, the material preventing him from truly feeling your lips on his. “Now, remember what we talked about? Give me a demonstration of what you need to do if it gets too much?”

You bobbed your head up and down to nod in understanding before humming three notes up through your nose at him in a melody familiar to you both. Bondage was not a new concept to you, but with the addition of the gag it felt like you had no communication for if it got too intense. When you were tied, you would use your safe word when it got too much, just like your rapid taps against the mattress in code would halt motions when gagged.

“Perfect, cara mia,” he pursed his lips against your temple, “I'm gonna sit behind you now.” You nod eagerly, darting your eyes between his as he moves from your torso and kneel before you. His cock was achingly hard, his red top shining in the light from how desperate he was yearning for you.

The shibari had you feeling completely exposed and vulnerable, just the way Rosinante enjoyed you. Each time he tied you felt like you were a little gift wrapped up just for his delight, his complete control and your complete submission to him alighting a flame of trust between both of you.

Rising to his feet, he gingerly walks over to his knight stand and finds a leaf-shaped object and it's remote ignition. Eyes widening he moves his way behind you and presses his torso flush to your back before moving his forearms beneath your legs. Lifting you with ease, his tip lined up with your entrance which waited eagerly with prior lubrication.

Placing the tip over your quivering body, he eased you to softly impale yourself on his cock. Inch by inch, you took Rosinante's impressive length into you with your eyes wide and lips falling wide.

“You okay, mi amor? Not too much too quick, is it?” he hastily checked in, knowing the size difference may cause you some discomfort while you adjusted. You whined and shook your head, wriggling in his arms in a bid to take more of him within you. He chuckled, giving into your request and slinking you down on his steely cock. Hissing at the feeling, Rosinante let out a shuddering deep moan as he felt your body move to accommodate him.

“Oh, so good,” his deep voice praised you, his lips finding your shoulder blade and caressing your skin. “Okay, stay still. One more tie, and we'll be all done.” You knit your brows in focus, tensing your abdomen as his hands move around the both of you.

The small leaf was pressed against your sensitive nerves at the front of you, prompting you to unintentionally gasp at the sensation. The small bud encumbered your nerves endings completely, the anticipation eating at you as he chuckled lightly. Adjusting the ropes, he insured the object was flush with your skin before wrapping the ropes around both of your waists. Each touch his hands gave you left tingles on your skin, your body fluttering around him as you kept yourself as statuesque as you could.

“Now all you have to do is keep my cock warm for me while we watch a play on the carrier snail,” he whispered against your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your lobe, “All I want you to do is cum for me. So, so much, mi amor.” Your eyes widened as you felt his hands reach for the switch for the projector snail, and for the remote attached to the soft leaf.

“Just sit pretty like you're doing,” he clicked on the projector, the lights flickering over the wall and starting the dancing lights and music to follow, “And cum on my cock.” The leaf buzzed and shook to life, your back arching into his torso at the intensity of the motion. Rosinante chuckled against you, feeling your body contract around him almost immediately.

The rhythmic thump of your entrance adjusting and the coil tightening in your abdomen was enough to strike lightning in your vision. Immediately writhing on his lap, you bucked and ground yourself back into him as best you could against the bonds. Your body chased your high, leaving a mess on both yours and Rosinante’s body as you came hard against the leaf.

“Oh, good job,” he whispered against your cheek, adjusting the switch as he felt you fall back from your high to not overstimulate you with too much intensity too quickly. Giving your thigh a gentle tap as you panted behind the gag, Rosinante soothed your skin before reigniting the switch.

Keening and choking through your gasp, he continued to dart his attention between focussing on you and the moving picture in front of you. Each time he felt your body almost reach its high, he would gaze down at you lovingly while he watched your face contorting in pleasure. Letting go of all thoughts as euphoria washed over you, he would always end your climax with praise and a soft kiss.

“So good for me,” he purred at you, the deep rumble in his chest cutting over the whines and mewls you'd release in ecstasy. “That one was a big one, huh? Keep it up, mi amor.” His hands began to dutifully worship your thighs and devote all of his attention to you. Constantly engaging with your feet and wrists to ensure adequate blood flow, he had you unravel on his lap another eight times for the duration of the moving picture.

Each time he felt you cum, he did his best to keep himself edged and not spill over too soon. Your body wrapped around and exposed for him and him alone had him fighting with himself for a sense of control: just how he needed it. He needed you to be a channel for his lust, his greatest escape and refuge from the hardships of his mission. Something he could control, to focus on, and to have an immediate response to his intentional actions. He needed you to have the release and freedom that he couldn't, waves of empathetic bliss being felt as he felt your body become void of anything other than him.

He needed that complete control.

Eyes glazed with dewy water, cheeks stained with hot tears, body and nerves shot with oversensitivity, gag damp with your own saliva, you felt completely void of all thoughts other than to engage in Rosinante's commands as best as you could.

Keep his cock in your body while the play projects, and cum as much as you could.

As soon as the screenplay ended, Rosinante let out a soft moan as he tested his cock by rocking you on his lap. Your body felt limp and pliable, nodding in acknowledgement as you felt him begin to move. Each follicle of your body was engaged, mind numb and pleasure coursing through your veins. Thrusting up, you heard him whimper a soft whine of your name as he rocked you harder and faster on his lap.

Head lulled on his chest, you felt him flick the leaf back to life and reach a hand around in front of you to add more pressure to the stimulation. His fingers and palm gave you that final push you needed to begin to chase a fresh wave of desire as he huffed and panted behind you. Jolting your body up and down his girthy cock had his blunt tip reach depths within you that had you cry out for him. Sobbing and whining, you felt the coil begin to tighten and compact into a ball as he continued to pummel up into you.

“O-Oh, fuck. You've got one more for me, don't you? Just one more,” he kissed and bit at your neck, tongue and teeth dragging at your skin, “Be good a little bit longer and give me one more. I want it. Give it to me.” His gruff bark had you immediately whine at yourself to focus on chasing your release, your oversensitive body almost giving out while bound in the safety of your harness.

A scream found its way through the muffled gag as you came hard around him, body shaking and trembling as he moaned deeply for you.

“Oh, fuck. Good job, such a good listener. Fuck-... Nghh-... I'm c-cumming,” he shuddered, burying his forehead in the crook of your neck as he shot ropes of his release into you, “Yes, yes. Take it. Take. It.” He continued to usher you into a lengthier release as his balls sucked into his abdomen and shot a viscous expulsion of desire up into you.

Huffing and panting, he kept rocking you as he fucked his release back up into you. Your body was limp like a doll, a marionette dancing bound in strings for him as your master. His movements staggered, his soft calls of your name singing to you his sweet song of praise.

Finally feeling himself still, the aftershocks of his twitches spurting the final shudders of release into you, he finally switched off the leaf and tugged your body to lie flush with him. Showering your skin in soft kisses, he panted against you while his cock lingered within you.

Straining against the bands, you attempt to unravel yourself from the ropes by rotating your wrists in a bid for relief. Rosinante is immediately refocused, gently coaxing his cock from you and manuevering you over to the pillows beside him. His digits flew like lightning, hastily untying you and insuring your body had regained circulation by massaging and pressing his lips against your skin.

“Rosinante, I'm okay,” you reassure him, smiling through your glassy eyes up at him. He smiled down at you while continuing to focus his attention on the knots and weaves. Releasing the last length of rope from your body, he pressed his lips over each point of strain on your wrists, thighs, backs of your knees and sensitive abdomen.

Each time he releases a small part of the bonds, you feel his devotion in his delicate touch. Each kiss, each caress, each gentleness in his intimate touch: he was a devotee to your altar. His prayers were to see you thrive and come undone by his motions. His dedication each of new session to explore the trust in one another was unmatched, and you truly adored him.

And he loved you completely.

As you moved to stand, your body was overcome immediately by the intensity of pleasure your body endured. Your skin was hyper sensitive to touch, and your bones congealed under the pressure. Rosinante rapidly clicked his tongue at you, pouting his lips before smiling up at you.

“Oh, come now. We've been through this,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose with yours. You smiled through tight lips up at him, your vision hazy as you matched his doting twinkle in your dual vibrant afterglow.

“You know I won't let you raise a finger.”

Lips finally colliding, passion through overexertion lingered in the atmosphere. Parting lips, you gingerly hooked your arms over his shoulders and tugged him closer. He hummed against you, grinding his tongue against yours and stealing your breath from you. Lacing your fingers through his hair, he rotated his chin slowly to take on more of you through each languid motion.

Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes with his orbs pooling with emotion. Caressing your skin, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath huffing softly against your skin, “So, so much." To re-emphasize his intent, he repeated his phrase, "So much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper softly against his skin, moving your hands from his hair to his cheeks. “My heart. My sweet Corazon.” He smiled at you, taking a moment to linger in the world you forged together before humming softly at you.

“Yes, I'm all yours cara mia. Let me get you cleaned up.” The creases in the corners of his eyes were the most beautiful sight you'd seen, "You want bubbles or salts?" His gorgeous glimmer in his grin found purchase and roots in your heart with each beat.

“You think I can choose?” you giggle up at him. He hooked his arms behind your knees, your back supported by his other as he cradled you into him.

“It's alright, mi amor,” he chuckled at you, stumbling a little as he readjusted you in his arms. “You can have a bit of both and share it with me.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[venusscriptures]

I just moved into my apt. but i must lay out the inner thoughts I HAVE ABOUT THIS MANNNN

sorry. ik i’m a sub man poster but..i swear something possessed me to write this. (tiktok edits and my completely horribly hot and sexy dreams i’ve been having since mappa blessed this society with the fine colorings and postings of this fine one fourth danish and japanese man names kento nanam)

He held you from behind, squeezing your chest as he ran his fingertip over your nipple. A crackle of pleasure ran through you like electricity, heightening the pleasure you felt as he thrusted deep inside you, his dick hitting your g-spot like a bull charging towards a red flag.

Out of breath and sweaty, you grasped onto his big, veiny hands and whimpered as he pulled it out, slapping the tip against your clit, chuckling softly.

“Oh, what is it? You want more, hmm? Such a greedy girl, I thought you only wanted the tip..”

He snickered as he smeared his hard, engorged, red tip against your sopping wet slit, happy at the erotic sounds your bodies made.

You graded down against him trying to get him to slip it in but he quickly pulled away, tutting.

“Pu-please I..I want you so bad please..k..kento..”

You gasped as he turned your head quickly, locking you into a deep kiss, your mind already swirling and lost deep into his skin.

Mid-kiss, he brought his hips forward and sunk his dick deep into you, nearly kissing your cervix.

Your legs immediately weakened and almost gave out, but he broke the kiss and pushed you back down onto the mattress, his hand on the back of your neck as he bullied your sore pussy til you couldn’t think anymore.

Almost blind sighting you, your orgasm suddenly hit you, squeezing you down onto him, eliciting a soft cry out of him, which was drawn out as he slowly pumped ropes after ropes inside you, shivering and curling into himself as he gripped your hips til there were crescent-shaped marks on your skin.

You whimpered and sighed til you were both basking in your post orgasm glow, when you felt his back press against yours and his arm wrap around and pressing on your tummy.

“Feel like getting pregnant?”

[ltwilliammowett]

Diorama models made by Sailors

In addition to the well-known boneship models, ships in bottles, votive models and ornate ship models, seafarers also made dioramas with ships from the early 19th century onwards. Such models could vary in shape and quality depending on the material the sialor had access to. The hull could be made of solid mahogany or spruce. The rigging could be made of ribbons, rope or hair, and blocks of glass beads. The sails were usually made of wood or sheet metal.

Diorama of an American frigate from the time of the War of 1812. It is possible that this is the USS Chesapeake which lost her battle on 1 June 1813 against the HMS Shannon, 19th century (x)

Since not everyone had enough knowledge of shipbuilding, the models could not look real in their proportions, mast and number of sails (something we already know from the boneships). As soon as the model was finished, it was mounted in a box with a background and waterline and the box was surrounded with a picture frame so that it could be hung on the wall. 

Mahagony Diorama, mid - late 19th century (x)

Danish half-model ship, diorama of a three-masted full-rigged ship, 19th century (x)

Due to the often not so high quality materials and the weather conditions at sea, many of the early models are no longer available today and even those from the mid and late 19th century are often very badly damaged. And yet they are a testament to the great craftsmanship of the sailors of the time. They were often used as souvenirs, but could also be made to order and then sold. 

[mcgnagallsarmy]

Spuffy style Reading Challenge - #27: Monthly Key Word Reading Challenge #3

1st month - Secret, Heaven, True, House, Come, Only, Know, Winter:

A Wonderful Awful Idea by The Danish Bird [NC-17]

With nothing apocalyptic looming on the horizon and hoping to avoid a certain thick-headed commando, it seems like the perfect opportunity when Giles mentions a monster terrorising the good people of Lake Tahoe. What could be more merry than a Christmas trip to the mountains to investigate? The gang is all coming along, defanged vampire in tow. Buffy should totally be able to deal with the demon, ignore Spike and their recent “engagement,” enjoy some resort-town shopping, and be back with Mom on Christmas Eve. Right? What could possibly go wrong? Set in season 4 at the beginning of Doomed.

2nd month - Heir, Night, Bride, Down, Women, Hand, Teach, Guest:

Drive by Holly [NC-17]

Freshly turned and very grumpy about it, Buffy finds herself in a weird place. One where her friends smell like food, her former mortal enemy smells like heaven, and the so-called love of her life has made it clear that killing her is on his to-do list. Throw in some overly zealous army guys and this is not Buffy's idea of a party. So she and Spike decide to hit the road at least long enough to figure out why neither of them can hit anything else. And since they're both single and free, well, Buffy wouldn't say no to a distraction from the never-ending laugh riot that is her life. And Spike can be very, very distracting. Good thing soulless vampires can't fall in love or she might be in trouble.

3rd month - Story, Hunt, Plot, City, You, Cry, Another, Paint:

I Can Get Money by scratchmeout [NC-17]

Spike puts his past to good use to get money for Buffy. However, things become complicated when her ex shows up and targets Spike.

4th month - Darling, Funny, Familiar, Somewhere, List, Meet, Never, Word:

First Alternate by Soulburnt [NC-17]

After ‘Not Fade Away,’ Angel gets the Shanshu. A thrilled Buffy gets her curse-free soulmate. And Spike? He gets his heart shattered again. Gutted and seeing no point in staying in a world without his Slayer, Spike doesn’t hesitate when pursuing a deadly demon through a portal. He finds himself stuck in an alternate reality where he truly died closing the Hellmouth. He also finds another Buffy, one who is devastated that her Spike didn’t believe she loved him. They console each other over their losses… but are they only consolation prizes? Or can two heartbroken people get a second chance for love?

5th month - Library, Dark, Drown, Ex, Iron, Done, Love, Stranger:

If I'm Butter Than He's a Hot Knife by scratchmeout [NC-17]

Buffy meets a man at a bar on Valentine's Day.

6th month - Ink, Fragile, Road, Summer, Breath, Every, Push, Sorry:

Favor by EllieRose101 [NC-17]

Spike asks an impossible thing of Buffy––and is stunned when she says yes. Could he really have gone up in her estimation?

7th month - Mine, Again, Honey, Paradise, Still, Club, Train, Legend:

Eucharist by Holly [NC-17]

He had it all. The prophecy and the girl, merrily ever after and all that rot. But life doesn't stop.

8th month - School, Cut, Sky, Fate, Wing, Belong, Justice, Way:

The Time We Had by Dusty [NC-17]

She was there and then gone. All his life long.

9th month - Twice, World, Man, Quiet, Sweet, Hold, Shallow, Invisible:

Pardon My French by Girlytek [R]

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to let Buffy perform a spell in French. Begins at No Place Like Home.

10th month - Vampire, Here, Mist, Death, One, Missing, Bite, Witch:

Sweet William by cawthraven [PG]

After the fall of Sunnydale, Buffy’s living in Boston and working as a waitress, grateful that here, not everyone knows her name. She’s free for once to be herself—and to grieve.

11th month - Spice, Life, Hello, Keep, Truly, Couple, Joy, Young:

Candy Corn Mischief by honeygirl51885 [NC-17]

Spike gets roped into taking Dawn trick-or-treating.

12th month - Snow, Season, Ice, Merry, White, Under, Mistletoe, Inn:

A Christmas Wish by all choseny [PG-13]

On one lonely Christmas Eve, Buffy makes a wish to a stranger and is given a glimpse of what might have been with Spike.

[thequeenofthewinter]

The Windhelm Heist

A little gift fic for the lovely and talented @rainpebble3 for her birthday. <3 May you have the greatest day and eat many snowberry and cheese danishes.

As he walked through the grim landscapes of Windhelm, the shades of grey continued to get dimmer and dimmer with every step. Monotonous blank nothing in every which direction. This was the reason Brynjolf always hated the place. Or was it the overwhelming sense of depression? The cutthroat air of self-serving politics? Perhaps the stale scent of rotting fish on the Docks?

Either way, he was sent with a job to do in Jarl Ulfric’s domain, and he has never been one to turn down a challenge. Even if it is bleeding money from stones.

While he made is way down to the Grey Quarter, he tried to not slip down the icy flagstones of half-crumbling stairways and sidestep past the falling debris from even more derelict buildings desperately in need of repairs. Everything everywhere was a death trap waiting to happen, and Bryn just happened to be the sad sod roped into going here. No matter. He’ll ask Delvin for double his usual fee for this job.

Who was he even supposed to see again? Brynjolf looked down at the paper where Delvin’s hastily-scribbled chicken scratch scrolled with the name of his target: Rolff Stone-Fist. Infamous ne’er-do-well the city’s biggest layabout other than his equally worthless partner in crime Angrenor Once-Honored.

His boots continued to slosh through the slop, loud steps causing him to inwardly cringe. How was anyone supposed to sneak anywhere with all this muck about? And after he rounded a few corners, came to even more dead ends, and looped around the same damned plaza three times, Brynjolf finally found his target—his grubby, meaty hands pushed against a Dunmer in some type of pathetic shakedown. Any seasoned thief would be able to see that the poor soul didn’t have more than three septims to rub together based on the threadbare clothing he was wearing and to add insult to injury, Rolff seemed to think it was funny to hurl slurs and rocks at him. 

It all came flooding back to him. This is why he has always hated Windhelm. The racist shit littering the streets.

Brynjolf grinned, the corners of his ginger moustache lifting gently as he chuckled under his breath. Like taking a sweet roll from a baby and much more enjoyable to boot.

“Are you Rolff Stone-Fist by any chance?” 

“What’s it to you outsider?” Rolff turned to Brynjolf, looking up and down as he swayed from where he stood. “I don’t have any business with you, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave well enough alone. My brother is Jarl Ulfric’s right hand man.”

Brynjolf resisted the urge to roll his eyes into high Aetherius as he lifted a brow and crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. “I think I’ll be the judge of that, lad, and I am not afraid of Jarl Ulfric.”

“I’ll give you one last warning. I’m busy here, so piss off.”

“Busy with what exactly?” Brynjolf inclined his head, indicating the Dunmer Rolff had in his grasp. “Taking money from those that have none? Giving the Thieves’ Guild a bad name? Last I checked, your name wasn’t on the list. And none of our own would be so foolish to recruit a pissant like you.”

With a graceless and unbalanced shove, Rolff pushed the Dunmer aside and into the muddy slush, finally giving Brynjolf his full attention.

About time. There was nothing more than Brynjolf hated than to have his time wasted when he could be taking coin from unsuspecting targets. He narrowed his eyes and reached down to unsheathe the elven dagger at his side. “Come on then, lad. If you want a taste, I’m here.” 

Brynjolf motioned him forward, goading him on with one of his calloused palms as the smile on his face slid into a full grin. There was nothing he loved more than then idiotic targets made the wrong decision, especially when that decision made his job infinitely easier.

“I bet you’re working with them greyskins.” Rolff pushed off from the wall with unsteady hands with uncertain feet. “When I get my hands on your, I’ll have you thrown into the Bloodworks, you dirty thief.”

“Who’re you calling a dirty thief, eh? Sounds an awful like lot the pot calling the kettle black,” Brynjolf shifted slightly to the side, putting himself into position, “and you’re the worst of the two of us. Not even a proper thief.”

“I’ll make my money as I please. It’s not as if you lot have any honor anyway. Not like the Stormcloaks—"

“I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two about honor. Here, why don’t I help you?”

It was simple. As Rolff continued to approach him, unbalanced meaty fists and all, Brynjolf only stuck out one of his feet and allowed gravity to do the rest. The man fell, rolled, and went wooshing forward, momentum and stupidity doing more for him than anything else, until he landed soundly face-down into the slop of a nearby pigsty. 

As Rolff tried to get to him and free himself, mud and slush stuck to his body, weighing him down as he sloshed around in the filth on the ground.

“Now that’s more like it. A uniform you can be truly proud of.” Brynjolf reached down and plucked a bag of coin and a Guild badge from his possession. “Mess with us again, and we’ll do worse than this.” He whispered into his ear and pushed him down again solidly into the mud before turning away to leave Rolff in the muck where he belonged.

It wasn’t often that Brynjolf liked to go to get his hands dirty; however, this could be considered an exception.

[hapalopus]

Translation of "Lindormen" from "Æventyrets Dyreverden," Ingvor Bondesen (1887). I have added paragraph breaks for easier online readability, and have added translations/comments in brackets, but have otherwise tried to keep the formatting.

The book is available on Archive.

No animal has been subject of as much fear as the serpent, not even the wolf. From the oldest myths to the youngest folklore, the serpent takes the leading role, and imagination is consistently in motion to provide the serpent with all abilities to evoke fear.

The names change, with time and place: Midgard-serpent, sea serpent, hugormekonge [viper king], and, under all names, venom is its terrible weapon. The horrible giant serpent of the Middle Ages is the lindorm. It lives at the outskirts - in Jylland there is, as such, one in Store Vildmose [a largely impenetrable bog/forest] - and it is of monstrous size. In the folk song, "Didrik af Bern,"[1] it takes the horse under its tongue and snakes into the mountain, where its eleven young lie; it throws the horse to them and bids them taste "den liden Brad" [the little prey].

Mads Povlsen from Fastrup has seen a lindorm-baby as long as a ladder, that is to say 12 cubit [7.5 m/24' 8.5"]. Like the Midgard-serpent was a symbol of the sea's destructive might, the lindorm is similarly a symbol of earth's consuming power, of decay and the awfulness of the grave. When the serpent thus leaves its hill [lindorme are commonly said to live in hills in Danish folklore], its heath [the Danish heath is very inhospitable to humans], its Vildmose, it is with the purpose of finding a churchyard, where it will often encircle the church, gnaw the wooden crosses and foliage, and prevent people from visiting the Lord's House, until it has grown so big that it can topple the church.

In other places, it tunnels beneath the church and eats the corpses, just like the serpent Níðhöggr in Hvergelmir chewed on corpses. And like Níðhöggr laid under Yggdrasil and leeched off its root, so is the lindorm hatched within the root of the linden tree when [the tree] grows old[2]; because Yggdrasil was, in ancient times, a symbol of all Earth's bountifulness and fertile beauty, just like the linden tree later became in the Middle Ages. In the old linden tree in Farum town, there is such a serpent. Every time a century has passed, it roars loudly and, in the end, it will topple the tree, break out, and cause destruction.

Andre Steder borer den sig ned under Kirkerne og æder Ligene, som og Ormen Nidhug i Hvergelmer sugede Lig. Og som Nidhug laa under Ygdrasil og tærede paa dens Rod, saaledes udklækkes der ogsaa en Lindorm i Lindetræets Rod, naar dette bliver meget gammelt t. k.* ; thi Ygdrasil var i Oldtiden Symbolet paa al Jordens Grøde og frugtbare Fagerhed, ligesom Linden senere bliver det i Middelalderen. I det gamle Lindetræ i Farum By er der en saadan Orm. Hver Gang hundrede Aar ere forløbne, brøler den højt, og tilsidst vil den vælte Træet, bryde frem og gjøre Ulykker[3].

The following tale is told in Skåne:

A man lived in a remote forest and earned a living by, among other things, making bark ropes. One day he ordered his half-grown son to crawl up an old tree and loosen the bark. During the work, the boy called down to his father: "Dad, down in the tree there is a sow with her piglets!" The father immediately yelled back for the boy to hurry back down, but it was too late; the lindorm had already grabbed a hold of him and dragged him down through the hollow trunk. The boy screamed and called for help, but the father didn't dare come to his aid; he knew that whoever is taken by the lindorm cannot be saved. "I can't say if this story should be believed or not, but I have later met a man, who must have been born to farmers, but who spent most of his time in cities and among gentlemen, and he spoke of the same, or a similar, story, which had been told in the area between Engelholm and Laholm. His parents, who were wealthy farmers, had, when he was a child, at a market in Engelholm, bought bark rope from a poor man, who told them not to barter, as the ropes had been expensive enough already, as they had cost him the life of his son, which was taken by a lindorm."[4]

The Swedes called it Hvitaormen [the white serpent]; it only shows itself every hundred years, and only in great wilderness areas (see also Hugormekongen). Witches seek it greedily to boil it into soup, and gain insight into all nature's secrets, because, as the serpent in the depths of the earth wraps itself around the roots of mountains and rocks, it is thought to have sucked up the urgrund's secretive powers. Simply just licking the serpent's skin will give you knowledge of all the plants and rocks, and of healing wounds and diseases.[5]

The only effective way to get rid of this wretched beast is to rear a bull on whole milk and wheat bread, which was once done in Tjørnelunde on Zealand, where the lindorm had settled at the outskirts of town and ate the cattle, and whatever else it could catch. When the bull was two years old, they were pitted against each other, but the lindorm was strongest, and the bull was chased off. The year after, the bull had grown as big and strong that it may as well have been a fairytale creature itself, and it was once again pitted against the serpent. The battle was awful, but finally the bull won. After the fight, the bull was so furious that no person could go near it; it tore up the earth with its horns so deep that a great lake area was formed, which can still be found East of the town and is called Hovparken. In the end, the bull was shot; but in a field near Tjørnelunde there is a rock with a deep fissure, which is said to have been made when the lindorm whipped its tail around during the battle.[3]

In Kløv Hill, North of the city of Thisted, lies an enormous lindorm. When doomsday draws near, Denmark will be at war, and the enemy will draw in from the South and lay everything to waste. The last remnant of the Danish Army shall gather at Tids Meadow, where a mighty tree stands. Then the Danish king will arrive on his white horse, bind his horse to the tree, and the battle will start. In the midst of battle, the lindorm will break out and bring an end to both allies and enemies, after which doomsday will begin.[6] In this legend, we have a clear echo of the Ragnarok legend; Tids Meadow is the Vígríðr Field, the tree is Yggdrasil, the king on his white horse is Odin on Sleipnir, the lindorm is the Midgard-serpent, which gets loose, and the enemy from South are not the Germans, but rather the Sons of Muspell.

In the image of the lindorm, as an expression of earth's terrible nature spirit, old features are mixed in to express a passion for earthly things, the brooding serpent of greed. We find this in the legend of the serpent on Gnita Heath, just like the tale of Ragnarr Loðbrók and Þóra borgarhjǫrtr. The earl Herrauðr in Gotland sends his daughter, Þóra a little beautiful serpent as a gift. She keeps it in a box and lays gold around it. It grows with the gold, finally encircling her bower and threatening everyone who draws near, with death and doom. This motif is repeated in later legends.

Near Kingstorp in Skåne lived a man who pretended to be so poor that, when he died, his widow went to the priest to get aid for his burial. But the priest was of the opinion that the man wasn't nearly as poor as the widow thought, as he had been terribly misery. The priest wondered if he had hidden his money somewhere. The widow now remembered that the man enjoyed sitting under a tree near their house; a search was conducted at the place, and they found a rock under which laid a kettle, guarded by a large brooding serpent. The priest ordered the widow to remove the serpent, as she was able to do so. She was scared, but obeyed, and the kettle was lifted. Now the priest told the widow to take a few schilling, put them back in the hold, and lay the serpent on top, as the serpent was the dead man's soul. When this was done, the rock was laid on top once more, and the hole was covered up.[4]

Svend Grundtvig: Danmarks Folkeviser.

Evald Tang Kristensen : Jyske Folkeminder, 4.

J. Kamp: Danske Folkeminder.

Eva Wigstrøm : Folkdiktning m. m. från Skåne, 1.

Afzelius: Svenska folkets sago-håfder, 2.

Svend Grundtvig: Gamle danske Minder, 2.

[triskhellion]

Awoo for You

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Rated T | ~1k | Teen Wolf | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | Eurodance

@hargrove-taylorsversion and @dear-massacre are to blame for this. Inspired by this post and various groups from the 90s and early aughts.

Derek was walking down Galvanic Ave when an all too familiar beat tugged at the edge of his awareness. His fingers tapped against the side of his thigh before he realized what he was doing, the sound of synthesizers growing steadily louder. Clearer.

Wait, is that...?

A white car turned the corner several blocks away and was now coming towards him. He groaned. 

Derek tried to tune it out, but the closer it got the more impossible it became to ignore his cousin’s voice coming out of its crackling speakers.

My heart is rabbit for your fang My feelings sparkle boomerang I chase you in my head at night Your voice a music dynamite

He cringed waiting for what came next, his own gravely voice snarling through the open windows. 

Boom! Want run with me? Woods! So wild and free

Howl! I jump for you Awoo! Big fool at zoo

Kiss! No need to flee Gingivitis? Not with me!

Growl! Free me my dove Cuz grr Ulv equals luv!

Luv luv luv luv Dance dance dance dance Run run run run RAAAWWRRR!

Ten years later and that damn song still followed him everywhere. Online. In stores. His teasing packmates. It haunted his very dreams. Nowhere was safe it seemed.

The chorus trailed after the ancient Yugo as it finally passed by, Malia’s howling interspersed with more of what was once described as his “horny wolf pseudo-rapping.”

Awoooo! I do for you Awoooo! Special and true

Awoooo! Want to make sex? Awoooo! I bite you next

(Necks necks necks necks) Everybody full shift!

———

It was 1997 and the Hales were in Burgdorf, Idaho for that year’s gathering of the packs west of the Rocky Mountains. While the adults were hammering out alliances, mediating conflicts, and commenting on the weather or swapping venison recipes or whatever, he and half a dozen other teen wolves (and one 10 year old little sister) were goofing around with some audio equipment they found in one of the unoccupied cabins. 

First came make-shift karaoke and then they started coming up with their own songs. Derek had beta-shifted and was growling nonsense into the microphone over some instrumental Eurodance single out of a huge cd case. Cora was literally rolling on the floor and laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face as the rest of the group busted exaggerated dance moves. Then all of a sudden the others grew quiet and stilled, standing up straight.

When he looked behind him his uncle Peter was leaning in the doorway with a calculating expression on his face.

A few months later Derek’s hair was styled into thick blue spikes and he had a Danish persona: Anders GRR. Malia, or Meta Clawz, had the misfortune of being able to sing and got roped into it too, sporting natural brown pigtails in back, but bright red and platinum blonde bangs in front. Together they were Beast of Beats. 

They never actually toured and only released the one self-titled album with 9 tracks — Best Beta, Another Moon, Blue Eyed Joe, Be My Mate, ‘Mega Girl, Better Off a Lone, Super-Louper-Man, Rhythm Is an Alpha, and the inescapable Awoo for You — but the music video of the latter was a hit on MTV. Then came the flash animation that some fan made a few years after, which became one of the first viral clips. There were T-shirts and covers by award-winning musicians. Memes and references in popular tv shows over the years and…It. Just. Never. Went. Away. 

Thankfully, both he and Malia had their faces obscured by masks, swirls of paint, or “special effects” in the video so they weren’t recognizable by the general public. There was that much at least.

———

Derek trudged into the apartment and grabbed some water from the fridge, snorting at a note asking him to circle which movie he wanted to see that weekend: Hot Rod, Sunshine or The Bourne Ultimatum. He circled #2, but had a feeling he’d end up watching number #1 anyway.

He sank down onto the ugly orange couch with a sigh. Footsteps soon approached from the bedroom.

“Hey babe, how was—hey, what’s wrong?”

Derek shook his head, not sure how to start or if he even wanted to. He'd never mentioned the whole Beast of Beats thing to his boyfriend and as much as he wanted to vent he also liked having one person in his life that didn’t know, for however long that could last. It was only a matter of time before Stiles was fully introduced to his pack and then someone would let it slip.

The human walked over and flopped down sideways beside him, stretching his legs over Derek’s thighs and taking his right hand, caressing the back with his thumb. Warm, dark caramel eyes watched him closely.

“Hmm…you’re wearing your grumpy Anders face.”

Derek froze and then turned slowly to stare at him. 

“You know?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Dude, I’d recognize that growl anywhere.”

He blushed and looked away, mortified.

“Derek, it’s okay. You know how much I like it. I like the song too, but I noticed that it bothered you about the same time I figured out who you were so I left it alone. I want you to be able to talk to me about stuff, though.”

He smiled at and squeezed Stiles’ hand. “Thanks.”

“But now that the wolf’s out of the bag…”

Derek narrowed his eyes as the grinning young man leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Want to make sex?” 

He groaned and knocked his head against the back of the couch. Kisses peppered his face between peals of laughter.

“Sorry, I'm sorry babe. I’ve been holding that in for so long, you have no idea.”

Shaking his head, he pulled Stiles into his lap and kissed him back, nipping at his bottom lip. Grasping under a thigh and putting an arm around his back he then stood up, the human flailing briefly before wrapping legs around his waist and holding onto his shoulders. 

Nuzzling into that lovely dotted throat, Derek inhaled the increasing earthy-sweetness of arousal. 

“I bite you next,” he muttered against soft, flushed skin. 

“Necks necks necks necks!” chanted Stiles.

“Everybody full shift!” he growled, setting his beautiful, happy and amused boyfriend down on the bed and climbing on top of him.

Well, maybe the song wasn’t completely terrible after all. 

[umbravirtus]

The Southern Isles - Plants

The agricultural landscape would have featured a variety of trees and plants, both for food and practical uses. Here are some of the key crops and trees that were likely grown:

1. Fruit Trees and Berry Bushes:

Pear Trees: Along with apples, pears were commonly grown. They thrived in similar conditions and were popular in Danish orchards.

Cherry Trees: TSI has a long tradition of growing cherries, particularly sour cherries used for preserves, desserts, and cherry wine (kirsebærvin).

Plum Trees: Plums were also a popular fruit crop, with varieties like the "Victoria" plum.

Currants and Gooseberries: Currant bushes (black, red, and white) and gooseberries were widely grown for making jams, jellies, and wines.

2. Nut Trees:

Hazelnut Trees: Hazelnuts were a traditional crop. though not as extensively cultivated as fruit trees. They could be found growing in the wild as well as in orchards.

3. Vegetables and Root Crops:

Potatoes: Potatoes were a staple crop in the 1850s, providing a reliable source of food for both human consumption and animal feed. They were widely cultivated throughout.

Carrots, Turnips, and Parsnips: These root vegetables thrived in the temperate climate and were grown for their hardiness and ability to store well through the winter.

Cabbage: Cabbage, particularly white cabbage, was grown extensively and used in traditional dishes like sauerkraut or cooked cabbage.

Onions and Leeks: These were common in the cuisine and grew well in this climate.

4. Grains and Cereals:

Rye: Rye was a key grain in TSI, used for making rye bread (rugbrød), which is still a staple of their diet.

Barley: Barley was grown both for human consumption and for brewing beer. TSI had a strong tradition of brewing, and barley was essential to that.

Oats: Oats were grown for both human consumption and as feed for livestock.

Wheat: Though less common than rye, wheat was also cultivated and used in baking and other food products.

5. Trees for Timber and Practical Uses:

Beech Trees: TSI's national tree, the beech, was abundant, Beech forests provided timber for building, firewood, and tools. The dense wood was highly valued.

Oak Trees: Oaks were grown for their strong wood, which was used in shipbuilding, furniture, and construction. Oak trees also produced acorns, which were used as feed for livestock, especially pigs.

Ash Trees: Ash was grown for its flexible wood, which was useful for tool handles, carts, and agricultural implements.

Elm Trees: Elm was another common tree, used in woodworking and building due to its durability and resistance to splitting.

6. Fodder Crops:

Clover and Grass: Clover was grown as a fodder crop for livestock, providing valuable feed for cows and sheep. Fields of grass were harvested for hay to feed animals during the winter months.

Lucerne (Alfalfa): A high-protein fodder crop used to feed livestock, especially cows and horses.

7. Flax and Hemp:

Flax: Flax was cultivated for its fibers, which were used to make linen, a common material for clothing and household items.

Hemp: Hemp was also grown for its fibers, used in making ropes, textiles, and other practical items, particularly in maritime communities.

8. Herbs and Medicinal Plants:

Caraway: This herb was used widely in traditional cooking, particularly for flavoring bread, cheese, and spirits like schnapps.

Chamomile: Grown for medicinal purposes and as a soothing tea.

Thyme and Sage: Common herbs in kitchen gardens, used for cooking and medicinal purposes.

Dandelions and Nettles: These were often foraged from the wild and used in teas, salads, and traditional remedies.

9. Ornamental Plants:

Roses: Often planted in gardens for beauty and as a source of rose hips, which were used in making syrups and jams rich in vitamin C.

Hollyhocks: A popular flowering plant grown in gardens to add beauty and color to homes and farmsteads.

10. Vineyards (in Small Quantities):

Grapevines: While not as prominent as in warmer climates, there were attempts to grow grapes, for local wine production.

This agricultural variety provided the basis for both subsistence and local trade.

[pull-up-a-chair]

Poul Kjærholm PK25 (1951)

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

AOT characters coffee/cafe orders and general headcanons from a local coffee shop barista thats trying to romanticize her hellish schedule this week (my opinion doesn’t matter though) (specifically inspired by the menu at my job)

eren-whatever dark roast drip coffee is available but also asks for “six sugars and four creams” as if the cafe has cream in those little creamer cups. eventually put onto white mochas (hot then eventually iced) by barista recommendation. more of a redbull guy anyway

mikasa-quad shot hot amaretto latte. warm nutty flavor with enough caffeine for the shit she needs to get done. impressed by pretty latte art too

armin- typically, house brew black, because what’s a coffee place if their house brew sucks? if he really likes a place he’ll try out their different pour overs. once he falls in love with a specific brew, armin isn’t afraid to pay upwards of $20 for a box of coffee beans (and has his own grinder at home)

levi-obviously a tea guy-prefers the earl grey he has at home but seriously appreciates a good quality jasmine or currant tea with just a bit of sugar and steamed milk

hange-hot mocha lattes, though when they want some real caffeine they’ll get a lavender cold brew with a double shot of espresso (go big or go home i guess)

erwin-small hot americano, with a little honey. a known but mysterious regular, never volunteering much info about himself but tips decently. baristas usually see him by the door and have his cup ready by the time he makes it to the register.

sasha-iced decaf breve with whipped cream and six pumps of french vanilla. she loves the taste of coffee but tries to keep from bouncing off the walls. always gets at least one pastry from the bakery, loves danishes. alternatively (since this is based on my jobs menu) she gets a 125% sweet brown sugar milk tea with half lychee jelly half tapioca and super thick cinnamon milk cap/cold foam.

connie-iced caramel macchiato with a CBD drop. doesn’t know or really care about what a macchiato is, just ordered it one day because of its popularity and loved it.

jean-usually likes vanilla cold brew with a splash of half and half. will definitely get a cortado to seem cool and mysterious on a date if he’s nervous.

marco-shameless frappe guy. hazelnut and mocha with whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso.

reiner-a hot chai latte with cinnamon powder on top. never returns to a cafe that has shitty tasteless chai, usually gets a croissant too

bertholdt- straight double shot of espresso. the tiny cups are comical in his hands and that’s honestly half the fun.

annie- super into matcha. just ceremonial grade high quality matcha and tries to avoid the “quality matcha color” debate to avoid sounding pretentious-though it shouldn’t be a debate in the first place. prefers her iced matcha half sweet and her hot matcha lattes with lavender.

historia-iced rose vanilla latte with oat milk. will get a mixed berry smoothie with strawberry boba if she’s avoiding caffeine.

ymir-prefers energy drinks by far and just comes with historia when she’s at the cafe. eventually gets roped into trying an iced white mocha and likes it well enough.

hitch-iced dirty chai (chai with a shot of espresso) with whipped cream. still a little miffed that the banana latte was a temporary seasonal flavor.

zeke- flat white with two splendas. also a regular and the only reason why the cafe still has splendas to begin with. always gets a muffin to go with his coffee.

[idkyetxoxo]

Twenty one | Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

Sometimes, unexpected journeys through time lead to timeless love stories.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

Ascending the stairs, we encountered Hild and Uhtred, our hearts heavy with anticipation. Uhtred's voice cut through the tension, "Where's Haestan?" Hild's response carried a weight of sorrow as she disclosed his demise. Guilt knotted within me, doubts I had harboured about him now seemed trivial, relegated to the periphery of my mind.

Returning to the present conversation, my attention refocused as Sihtric passed Hild his sword. The weariness etched across her face did not escape me, prompting me to offer solace. "One last time," I murmured, clasping her hand gently. She met my gaze, a silent affirmation passing between us.

With Aelfwynn and Hild dispatched towards their destination, we found ourselves atop the ramparts, observing the unfolding events below.

"Edward surely can't be this stupid," remarked Finan, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding. "He's the dictionary definition of stupid" I muttered, eliciting a wry smile from him. "Apologies, no dictionaries at hand," I added, acknowledging the moment with a touch of levity.

"My wife and her strange manner of speech," Finan quipped, drawing laughter from Sihtric "My husband is going to risk getting a thrashing if he doesn't focus on not trying to get us killed" I retorted, punctuating the exchange with a feigned smile.

Uhtred's interjection halted our banter as he pointed out the approaching Scots, a grim reminder of the impending danger. Grumbling curses, we resigned ourselves to the grim reality. "Those stupid bastards" Finan grumbled as I stepped back in defeat. 

"Who's that by the forest?" queried Sihtric, directing our attention to a distant figure. Straining our eyes, we sought to discern the mysterious presence amidst the trees, our senses attuned to the unfolding drama.

"Horses," Uhtred declared, his resolve galvanized as he sprinted towards the stables. We followed suit, hastening towards the shelter of the trees. After securing our mounts, we proceeded on foot, determined to intercept the enigmatic figure glimpsed from above.

Among the familiar faces stood Aelswith, Stiorra, and her retinue, resigned yet resolute. Despite their initial inclination to withdraw, Uhtred's impassioned plea resonated deeply. He painted a vision of Northumbria as a new Danish homeland, a sanctuary where Saxon and Dane could coexist harmoniously.

"Stiorra, this is not merely for them but for us," I urged, clasping her hands in solidarity. Her gaze shifted between Uhtred and me, a silent accord forged in the crucible of shared purpose.

Edward and his army teetered on the precipice, pushed closer to the brink with each passing moment. In a decisive manoeuvre, Uhtred and Stiorra spearheaded the Danish reinforcements, striking the Scots from their vulnerable rear flank. The Saxons, emboldened by this surge of support, rallied their forces, and together we repelled Constantin from the field, reclaiming the tenuous advantage.

"Secure the commander," Uhtred's voice cut through the chaos, his eyes ablaze with determination. He outlined the necessity of apprehending their foe, who had resorted to hostage tactics. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I steadied myself, hands on knees, struggling to catch my breath amidst the fervour of battle.

"Come on, Pyrlig, I reckon we've got this," I rallied, though my appearance must have elicited amusement from him. With shared resolve, we surged forward, Pyrlig seizing the commander while I swiftly bound him with rope, his struggles proving futile against our determined efforts.

"Quit your squirming," I urged, exerting pressure as I cinched the knot securely, my leg pinning his flailing arms. As Pyrlig hoisted him upright, the ebb of battle signalled our triumph, the tide turning in our favour.

A gasp escaped me involuntarily as I beheld the fortress consumed by flames, Uhtred's proximity only intensifying the despair of the moment, the tide of fortune shifting against us.

A cool sensation on my arm drew my attention skyward, a smile curving my lips as rain cascaded down, a cleansing deluge amidst the turmoil. Laughter bubbled forth as I revelled in the absurdity of it all, the commander's disdainful glare met with my mirthful defiance.

With the exchange of hostages concluded, jubilation swept through the ranks, ale flowing freely amidst the revelry. What had once been a landscape of defeat and apprehension now resonated with the joyous sounds of victory.

In the distance, Aelfwynn and Cynalef were wrapped in a heartfelt embrace, their reunion a sight that warmed my heart. Seeing them together, I couldn't help but smile warmly, reassured by the knowledge that Cynalef was a good boy who would cherish and care for her. There was no doubt in my mind about his character or his intentions towards her.

Edward, compelled by protocol or perhaps his own sense of grandeur, with solemn gratitude, praised Uhtred's valour and unwavering service, announcing a forthcoming feast in honour of the victorious campaign. The murmurs of anticipation hung in the air as Edward declared Uhtred the newly anointed Lord of Northumbria. 

Yet, Uhtred, ever the reluctant hero, shattered the facade of euphoria with a revelation tinged with diplomatic nuance. He'd struck a deal with Constantin, to swap hostages, and in return, Constantin would drop his claim to Northumbria. 

Edward is outraged, seeing it as betrayal, but Uthred reassures him that it is the only way to prevent constant Scottish attacks. Northumbria will remain an ally of Wessex, and will eventually become part of England, but not until the time is right. 

Edward has caused too much turmoil, but eventually, a king who can unite all the kingdoms will take the throne. Edward, although still furious, accepts.

── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ──

"You know, I never thought this day would arrive," I remarked, feeling Finan's arm enveloping my shoulders in a reassuring embrace. "If anyone deserves this, it's us," he replied, offering me his cup of ale.

I took a sip, nodding in agreement. "That's true," I conceded, leaning in as he planted a tender kiss on my lips. "The debt he owes me for all I've done for him could last a lifetime," I murmured, casting a glance at Uhtred revelling with Stiorra and young Uhtred.

Finan's brow furrowed in curiosity. "The things you've had to do?" he queried. "What about the things I've had to do?" he retorted, a hint of playful defiance in his tone. I shook my head, a rueful smile playing on my lips. "You don't know half of what I endured with that crazy man before you came along," I confessed.

"I once found myself sneaking into an enemy camp on his orders, gathering intel with every step, expecting to be caught and gutted at any moment. I don't know how Sihtric manages it," I recounted, the tension of those moments still vivid in my memory "And then there was the time he had me act as his wife to secure an alliance. I had to invent a whole family history on the spot," I added with a wry chuckle.

"Ah, and let's not forget the absurdity of negotiating a trade agreement with a group of obstinate merchants," I continued, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "That endeavour involved more dancing, teasing, and wine than I care to admit."

"Uhtred needs a firm talking to," Finan interjected, breaking the nostalgic reverie. I chuckled, finding solace in our shared journey. "Despite it all, I'm grateful we have a place to call home," I said, setting the cup of ale aside and enfolding Finan in an embrace, his hands finding their place on my waist.

"Did you forget about me?" a voice chimed from behind, and I turned to find Osferth standing there, a beacon of unexpected relief. "Baby monk!" I exclaimed, pulling him into a tight embrace, tears brimming in my eyes. "You're ok," I breathed, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. He nodded gratefully. "Thanks to you, I owe you my life," he uttered, his voice laden with heartfelt gratitude.

Concern etched across my features, I scrutinized his appearance, searching for any lingering traces of ill health. "How did you make your way down here?" I inquired, my worry palpable. 

Osferth offered a weak smile, his resilience shining through. "It was a slow but fulfilling journey," he replied, his eyes reflecting the depth of his experiences. I enveloped him in another embrace, grateful for his return.

"Let's join Uhtred and Sihtric," I suggested, taking his hand and guiding him toward the others. The five of us congregated, perched upon weathered stone steps, a testament to the path we had traversed together.

"I'm glad you somehow got thrown into the past" Finan whispered beside me, his warmth enveloping me as I nestled back into his chest sitting between his legs. "God was watching over me," he added, his words laced with conviction. 

"Indeed, he was," I affirmed, savouring the tender connection that bound us, our lips meeting in a fervent kiss.

"Come on let's take this elsewhere" I murmured, seizing his hand, eager to steal away from prying eyes. Uhtred's smirk earned him a playful glare from me, a silent warning against any jests as we retreated into the fortress.

"Just you wait till we're out of here" Finan reiterated, his voice tinged with promise as we slipped into an empty chamber, closing the door behind us. "Get ready for an unforgettable experience," he whispered lowly, his words igniting a spark of anticipation as he threw me onto the bed and latched himself to me as a squeal escaped my lips. 

Sometimes, unexpected journeys through time lead to timeless love stories.

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

LAST CHAPTER SO EMOSH that last line ATE though I almost called this "Timeless Love" because of it lol dw there's still an epilogue left though AND A SIHTRIC STORY TO BE REVEALED🤭🤭

Tag list - @jasontoddorjasongrace

[therulerofallpotatos]

Galavant! Wednesday Memes Pt7

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Tyler and Laurel s1

Lucas, Xavier, and Wednesday when Tyler leaves them alone together while they’re on the run

Xavier after his dad disowns him for getting caught up in a scandal like aiding a nationally wanted fugitive who is charged with outcast hatecrimes

Enid sick of everyone’s shit

Alternatively, Tyler freshly free from Laurel in s2

Tyler and Lucas reuniting pt 2

Tyler when Ajax hands him a news article to read

Tyler and Enid about Wednesday

Xavier and Tyler are fighting and one had the bright idea to make fun of the other’s dead mom

Ajax is just happy to be a part of the “keep Tyler away from the cops” mission with everyone else

Xavier is at the end of his rope while on the road and one danish holds all the joy left in him

[harrison-abbott]

[Copenhagen - Travels.]

Flying across the North Sea yon come across these knife-like islands

Ragged against the water; blustery and cold looking: and they make you

Think of those men violent men who bustled in boats a thousand years

Back, seeking new land on new coasts and determined for spoils.

Much of the language you speak is down to them, and now you’re coming

Here a thousand years later, all numbed-eared from aerodynamics, all

Spoiled with the sights of clouds from such a height as the Vikings could

Never see … And so, let’s explore this new country and see what happens.

It’s an early flight and so the airport is super quiet upon arrival. Doesn’t

Seem like an airport, only an airy space with folks wandering around.

But, when you get to the Border gates, and meet a woman with black hair

Through the strong window glass, she goes, “Why are you in Denmark?”

In quite a blunt manner. But you play the civilian: “I’m just a tourist.

Back on Wednesday.” She asks you if you’re with somebody and you say

No it’s only me.

You get the metro into the city. There is always something profound

About entering another nation when you walk up from the concrete

Metro steps and into the light, width and wind of a novel town.

You come out onto a square 500 yards in breadth and pockmarked with

Pigeons and layered with cobblestones and centred with a fountain brimming

In blue and white. You sit on one of the benches for a while. The winds really

Are quite nippy and they flap your hood.

There are five hours until your hotel opens for reception and so you fancy

A wander to kill some time. Off you go walking to see what’s what.

Starlings explode from the rooftops in shotgun fodder ballet, soundlessly,

And then disappear again overhead. There are lots of gulls, too, keen on

The fish fodder from the restaurants; that acidic biting smell of fried fish

From the restaurant tables outside – with the tent plastic flapping overhead.

You go into a shop and buy some things and it’s super expensive from what

You were expensive and a young woman serves you and she giggles a little

At your locational ignorance over how to make the payment, how to handle

These bizarre coins.

You head south. Towards the canal district.

The sun expands the green water and it alights the housing from the eighteenth

Century along the straights of the esplanade in pink blue yellow green & gold.

Like walking alongside postcard vanity in real time. The boats, too, hang above

The half fairy / half murky water. They don’t quite have a purpose aside from to

Float there in touch maritime vibe: with the wrist-thick brown ropes tied to the

Steel rings by the sidewalk. And their names in RAINBOW CAPITAL LETTERS,

Gleaned across their fronts and sides. You don’t see anybody in their hulls and

The seagulls perch above their masts and twitch and observe the humans fluttering by.

You head out of the tourist district and into the south of the city, going along these

Skinny spans of sea, and you wonder what it would be like to fall in the water.

There are no fences or walls above the drop, and you ponder how many folks have

Fallen in the past – how many stories there are about that …

You look across the watery spans and in the distance you see the industrial area of

Copenhagen, with these tall tunnels erect against the sky, churning hard smoke.

And, before those, a quarter mile away, are the navy boats. These Goliath military

Ships, proper war material. Except, ironically, when you see them for the first time

They look like they’re coloured in those Airfix paints that you used to colour in

Plastic soldiers when you were a boy: they have that same toyish tinge of grey,

That seems to distract from their size and power …

Stopping by another bench nearby, you sit there for a bit.

Some man in his fifties or so comes up to a bike which is stationed close to the bench.

He says something in Danish that you don’t understand, but you

Figure if he’s asking if this is your bike? So you respond, no, politely.

Bikes.

You’d heard Copenhagen was a ‘Bicycle City’. But, Jeepers.

The bikes clog up the roads in a clunky manner and yet they glitter effortlessly

In the sun in their metallic paint; and they suffocate each street you meet

And yet they keep breathing at the same time: and the cyclists aren’t fast or

Manic or aggressive like they are in other places: they’re just always flowing.

Young women on bikes; boys wearing headphones, biking; older women without

Helmets gliding along: older men with cigarettes from their lips, pedalling.

[Makes you want to hire a bike as well to enjoy the experience and get with the

Programme, but, you have a few bad memories with cycling and kinda retired

Half a decade ago.]

Your hotel should be opening soon.

So you head back north towards the location.

As you go you pass lots of jogging folks as well. Most of them are female.

And you watch the shapes of their bodies, of their faces, in ripe milliseconds.

… When you do get to the hotel, the reception lady is Spanish. Brown hair, eyes,

Skin: she was speaking in that elastic language with somebody else when you

Entered. She gives you the keys to your door. At this point you’ve been awake for

Way over a day. An absence of sleep distorts your thinking. When you get into your

Room, a great tiredness goes over you. And you eat a little bread and humous

Before heading onward. And down the corridor of the hotel room you can hear the

Voices of the other residents, too. There are further Spanish girls. And some of them

Are Polish. Some Danish and some from England. A whole mix of nationalities.

Shall get some sleep in for now. And explore further tomorrow.

[gena-rowlands]

jean's films of 2023!

(r) = rewatch

Coming Home In The Dark (2021) ★ 06.01

1408 (2007) ★★½ 11.01

Baby Driver (2017) ★★★★½ 11.01

Along Came A Spider (2001) ★★½ 12.01

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) ★★★★ 12.01

(r) The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 2 (2012) ★★ 13.01

The Guard (2011) ★★★½ 13.01

The Menu (2022) ★★★ 14.01

Don’t Look Up (2021) ★½ 15.01

(r) Barbara (2012) ★★★★★ 16.01

The Danish Girl (2015) no rating 17.01

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 17.01

(r) Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022) ★★★★ 18.01

(r) Mamma Mia! (2008) ★★★★½ 19.01

My Policeman (2022) ★★½ 20.01

M3GAN (2022) ★★½ 22.01

The Girl on The Train (2016) ★½ 26.01

Empire of Light (2022) ★★★★ 27.01

Phoenix (2014) ★★★★★ 28.01

Videodrome (1983) ★★★★ 28.01

(r) The Favourite (2018) ★★★★★ 29.01

Red Eye (2005) ★★ 29.01

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019) ★★★★½ 30.01

Badlands (1973) ★★★ 30.01

The Craft (1996) ★★★ 31.01

The Father (2020) ★★★★½ 02.02

TÁR (2022) ★★★★½ 03.02

(r) Open Season (2006) 03.02

Vivre Sa Vie (1962) ★★★★ 04.02

Rope (1948) ★★★★★ 05.02

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 08.02

(r) Ocean’s Eight (2018) ★★★★ 11.02

Do Revenge (2022) ★★ 12.02

The Wonder (2022) ★★½ 12.02

The Dig (2021) ★★★★★ 12.02

Nightcrawler (2014) ★★★½ 13.02

Valentine (2001) ★★½ 14.02

The Fabelmans (2022) ★★★★½ 17.02

But I'm a Cheerleader (1999) ★★★★½ 22.02

The X Files: Fight The Future (1998) ★★★½ 24.02

Dial M for Murder (1954) ★★★★ 25.02

(r) Paddington 2 (2017) ★★★★★ 25.02

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 26.02

Wild Strawberries (1957) ★★★★★ 01.03

Torso (1973) ★★ 02.03

The Lobster (2015) ★★★½ 03.03

Nimic (2019) ★★★★ 03.03

Disobedience (2017) ★★★★½ 04.03

Mad God (2021) ★★ 04.03

Road To Perdition (2002) ★★★★★ 05.03

The Lovers (2017) ★★½ 05.03

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 06.03

(r) Mamma Mia! (2008) ★★★★½ 07.03

Scream VI (2023) ★★ 12.03

Audition (1999) ★★★★ 19.03

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 19.03

Barbarian (2022) ★★★½ 21.03

Autumn Sonata (1978) ★★★★★ 22.03

Good Luck to You, Leo Grande (2022) ★★★★ 23.03

Tokyo Story (1953) ★★★★ 23.03

A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night (2014) ★★½ 24.03

Winter Light (1963) ★★★★ 24.03

Persona (1966) ★★★★½ 25.03

Best In Show (2000) ★★★★★ 26.03

(r) The Hunger Games (2012) ★★★★ 27.03

(r) The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) ★★★★ 29.03

(r) The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 1 ★★½ 31.03

(r) The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2 ★★★★ 31.03

The Blood of a Poet (1932) no rating 01.04

The Green Mile (1999) ★★★★ 01.04

(r) The Princess Diaries (2001) ★★★★ 03.04

The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement (2004) ★★★ 04.04

(r) Brokeback Mountain (2005) ★★★★½ 04.04

Faces (1968) ★★★★ 05.04

(r) Blue Jasmine (2013) ★★★★ 07.04

The Town That Dreaded Sundown (1976) ★★★½ 08.04

Rebecca (1940) ★★★★½ 09.04

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 09.04

Dead Poets Society (1989) ★★★★ 10.04

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) ★★★★½ 13.04

Moonrise Kingdom (2012) ★★★½ 14.04

(r) The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) ★★★★★ 15.04

All About Eve (1950) ★★★★★ 20.04

Bringing Up Baby (1938) ★★½ 21.04

Meshes of the Afternoon (1943) no rating 21.04

Shall We Dance (1937) ★★★½ 22.04

His Girl Friday (1940) ★★★ 28.04

Hour of the Wolf (1968) ★★★★½ 02.05

A Single Man (2009) ★★★★★ 04.05

(r) Carol (2015) ★★★★★ 04.05

Pearl (2022)★★★★ 05.05

X (2022) ★★ 06.05

(r) We Bought A Zoo (2011) ★★★★ 06.05

The Snowman (2017) ½ 06.05

(r) Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991) ★★★★½ 07.05

Enys Men (2022) ★★★ 07.05

After the Rehearsal (1984) ★★★½ 09.05

Rosemary's Baby (1968) ★★★★½ 10.05

(r) But I'm a Cheerleader (1999) ★★★★½ 11.05

When Harry Met Sally... (1989) ★★★★½ 11.05

The Great Gatsby (2013) ★★★ 14.05

(r) All About Eve (1950) ★★★★★ 15.05

Heavenly Creatures (1994) ★★★★ 16.05

The Silence of the Lambs (1991) ★★★★½ 21.05

Legally Blonde (2001) ★★★★ 25.05

Waiting for Guffman (1996) ★★★★ 28.05

Funny Games (1997) ★★★★★ 29.05

[hapalopus]

Sometimes, the greatest conundrums in historical research are things that were commonplace in the past. Mysteries like Roman concrete, and the location of the kingdom of Punt, things that were so commonplace that no one thought to write them down. Items that are labeled as "ritual use," when in reality they were used for spinning thread or carting wool.

Last year I spent a good week or two unraveling what in the world a "læssetræ" was, since the dictionary was only mildly helpful, and no images appeared on google. Eventually I found the answer in old illustrations of everyday farm life.

My most recent challenge is this:

"In my grandfather, Jens Skrædder's, time, they could never keep their beasts tied by that hill. One time, they pinned them and fastened them real good; but by the morning they were foaming with sweat. To pin the beasts is to insert sticks [pins] on the inner side of the "klaptræer," so they poke the horse's cheeks when it tosses its head."

What in the world are "klaptræer"? I can tell that it's a composite word, made up of "klap" (can mean anything from clapping to clattering to beating) and "træ" (wood/wooden). The former Danish dictionary, Ordbog over det danske sprog, which was discontinued in 1950, but is thankfully fully archived, gives the following definitions:

2) Each of the two pierced (vertical-hanging) pieces of wood, which are connected by a brace or rope over the snout of the animal (cattle, sheep, horses), which are tied in the field; also used to refer to the entire headstall (klapgrime ["grime" meaning headstall or halter) 2.1) (in the countryside or casual conversation) He sat in his living room, making teeth for his rake and klaptræer, he must've been expecting spring. (on Zealand and Funen) figuratively: We are young people and have both shaken the klaptræer off our heads [/freed ourselves from our klaptræer].

At least I could now picture what a klaptræ might look like and how uncomfortable it would be for the animal. But I still had no idea what it's English name is, and I couldn't find a single picture of one. Eventually I gave up.

Until yesterday.

I've gotten a job at a nursing home, and our residents are allowed to decorate their rooms however they please. One of them has a romantic painting of farm life, which I cannot find a copy of online, but I noticed that the headstalls the oxen were wearing matched the description of klaptræer.

Googling romantic oil paintings of livestock, I eventually found these:

That's what people used to tie their animals with!!!

I still have no idea what it's called in English though.