#haaf

[ismbaya]

#HAAF #CATAI #TheScoopStorytellingInitiative #Bowdi #FOURCi and #NECSOB Have organized a program to celebrate our impact on the United Activism Campaign Project during the 16 Days of Activism were they engage young people to contribute to the elimination of violence against women and girls using their skills and talents. I was one of the participants who reached out to over 123 people (Adolescent Girls, Women, Boys, and Men). To recognize our social impact made during the 16 Days of Activism under the United Activism Campaign Project, a Certificate of Participation was issued to all the Participants. Special thanks to @haaf_se @cataicenter @thescoopinitiative_ #Bowdi @fourci_ng and #NECSOB for recognizing our little efforts towards making sure that we eliminate violence against women and girls. I believe youths can equally support the elimination of gender-related issues. @unwomen @unfpanigeria @actionaidnigeria #16DaysOfActivism2022 #UnitedActivismCampaign (at Maiduguri) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmP4mLiI-AY/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[noxhel]

Wild ┆2018 🎥Jan Verdijk

[paperbackbtch]

jason haaf, harsh cravings

[scots-gallivanter]

FOUR

The moon shone broad and bright upon the placid face of the Solway Firth, and showed a slight ripple upon the stakes, the tops of which were just visible above the waves.

SIR WALTER SCOTT, Redgauntlet (1824)

THE CLOCKS WENT forward today but there’d hardly be enough blue in the world to darn a sailor’s hanky. My ears, exposed after an out-of-season haircut, are red as hen’s heads as Nikki and I take in the windswept mudflats which Robert Burns called ‘this wild place of the world’. A heron pecks patina into flotsam; tuxedoed oystercatchers hurtle along the mud with their lame men’s gaits and then moan into a monochrome sky. To hoodwink their prey, plovers tap-dance on the beach pretending to be raindrops.

Three boys in shell suits stand around an observation viewer. ‘Quality’, offers the tallest of the trio, after discovering it isn’t coin-operated. He squints through it to England. ‘What the Butler saw’, I joke, ‘That’s where Edward the First cursed us before breathing his last.’ The three boys dander off, perplexed about butlers; an oyster-catcher pipes past, and a flock of timid redshanks retreats past the Altar Stane, more often than not under water, which has bounded the burgh of Annan since 1539.

Before they moved to Lochmaben Robert the Bruce’s ancestors had a castle at Annan, and a running track and park now sit beneath its tree-colonised motte. A stone from the castle, with an inscription related to the Bruces, was somehow acquired by an Annan antiquarian, who took it with him when he moved to Devon. It was returned in 1927 and is now incorporated within the town hall. There is a story that Archbishop, later Saint, Malachy put a curse on Annan. When he had dined with Bruce at the castle, Bruce had promised to spare the life of a condemned man. However, he reneged on the deal – with the result that a vampire allegedly ran loose in the town in which Thomas Carlyle later went to school.

Chop all the wood from boats that sailed in the Solway Firth, and Bonfire Night could be celebrated the length and breadth of Scotland until they launch the first zebra into space. Horn-helmeted raiders, Roman warriors, English incursors, pirates, kings, folk heroes, brigands, smugglers, and lovers. They all came and went with swords, fire, trade, romance or murder. Hadrian put his ‘Roman wall’ up at Bowness-on-Solway on the shoulder of England, a mile from where we stand – across a wath that was used by interlopers for centuries. That wath or ford can be walked when the tide is out, but you’d better know the currents intimately or you’ll be struggling in quicksand before your brain can contemplate the meaning of M’ Aidez.

From Cumberland’s tussocks – an official Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty since 1964 –trains used to smoke their way across the sea on the longest bridge in Europe. We gaze at England from a lichened mound of concrete and mudstone with mini-ferns curling out of Scotland like croziers. Behind us the trains passed through a cutting that has doubled for decades as a way for dog walkers undeterred by the pipeline running bang down the middle, through which Chapelcross Nuclear Power Station discharged its shit into the sea.

It’s March 2023. The first sod for the Solway Viaduct from Bowness-on-Solway to Annan was cut here 158 years ago today in a ceremony that featured ‘four navvies in smock frocks, red neckcloths, and white nightcaps ...... a mahogany barrow with the silver spade on their shoulders’. A cannon was fired, prayers were said, and big wigs sat in a decorated pavilion for their déjeuner à la forchette, and much speechifying and backslapping.

The idea for a viaduct had originated in 1830 in an anonymous pamphlet but The Cumberland Pacquet and Ware’s Advertiser called it ‘sublime, utopian, stupendous and bordering on certain of the Munchausen achievements’.

It took three years to build, but in 1881 ice floes wrecked it. It was repaired but it never quite recovered and was shut down in 1921. Notices went up to keep people off the bridge; however, thirsty Scots made their way across on Sundays to take advantage of more liberal English licensing laws, and there were cross-border romances for which the viaduct wasn’t a bridge too far. It was dismantled in 1935, and the scrap was recycled for armaments in Japan for its war with China. A signal box allegedly ended up being used as a garden shed.

What remains of a rusty tanker sits deck-deep in silt now behind an old warehouse that once rung with the sound of shipbuilders’ mallets. A local group pulled it out of view in 2020 with cash collected from flogging scrap bikes and shopping trolleys. Thousands of people once thronged the pier at Annan, an important shipbuilding port, whence steamers took folk to new worlds. A wooden lighthouse stood at Barnkirk point but it burned to the shore in 1975. Today a scarfed pensioner wheezes along the quay with smoky breath; and a subdued mongrel, oblivious of history, looks just as disconsolate.

Shawhill railway station, built on the verge of Annan for the viaduct traffic, is now a scrapyard. Back on the foreshore cinder path a decapitated man stands on a plinth – a bone of contention between his maker (who welds together bits of scrap and exhibits them) and others in the community, whom he regularly lambasts on his social media page. Metal Man began life in 2009 on a roundabout at the Tesco store in town, but he was beheaded in 2019. Since then, he has had a traffic cone for a head, then a football, a parrot’s head and a pig’s head. A month ago, a prankster sawed the statue’s haaf-net and fish off. Goodness knows how he ended up on the shore here where for generations real haaf-netters have battled the currents and tides.

Old Annanites speak of haaf-netting in reverential tones: it has been pursued since Viking times and is enshrined in royal charters. A haaf-net resembles a portable football goalmouth with a rectangular frame and three legs. The top beam of the frame is 18 feet long, the length of the oar of a longboat; when a fish swims into the net the frame’s legs float to the surface and the fish is netted and clobbered on the head with a nep, a priest or a killer. Well, that is what used to happen, but legislation introduced in 2016 bans the killing of salmon, and fewer and fewer men feel like paying the near £40 annual licence fee when they cannot take a single fish home. The tradition is certain to die out.

Leistering was another unusual form of fishing practised by the men of the Solway. A leister was a four-pronged, twenty-foot-long javelin, which killed fish in huge quantities. Richard Franck, a Cromwellian trooper, was the first person to report on Scotland’s salmon-fishing. The Cambridge-educated sea captain travelled through Carlisle, Dumfries, Glasgow, Stirling, Perth, Forfar, Loch Ness; Sutherland, Caithness, Cromarty, Aberdeen, Dundee, St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and Berwick.

Franck saw the mounted men of the firth galloping along the shallows spearing salmon (Northern Memoirs, 1694). Sir Walter Scott also gave leistering a mention. In Redgauntlet, Darsie Latimer wrote to Alan Fairford, of the day he was rescued from straying into the Solway quicksands: ‘...they chased the fish at full gallop, and struck them with their barbed spears, as you see hunters spearing boars in the old tapestry. The salmon, to be sure, take the thing more quietly than the boars; but they are so swift in their own element, that to pursue and strike them is the task of a good horseman, with a quick eye, a determined hand, and full command both of his horse and weapon.’ Latimer lingered on the sands and looked to the English shore that was ‘still gilded by the sun’s last rays, and, as it seemed, scarce distant a mile from me’.

For nearly half a century Chapelcross nuclear power station was a familiar landmark outside Annan. I was one of thousands of people who watched its four chimneys being demolished in 2007. Some souls were sentimental to the point of weeping. It was, indeed, the end of an era for a business that had employed three generations and had brought prosperity to a town which, in 1727, Daniel Defoe had found to be in ‘irrevocable decay’. It was hooray for me when the towers fell, though. Goodbye, plutonium. Goodbye, tritium. There have been proposals for a wood-burning power station there, using sustainable coppiced willows, and an adjacent solar farm has been approved. It remains mothballed.

In the 1960s there had been plans for an atomic metropolis that would have spanned the firth. There would have been a circuit-linear Solway City for 50,000 people, and a new airport. Forty years later there is another proposal – to route an ‘electric bridge’ from Annan to Bowness-on-Solway using energy from the world’s third greatest tidal bore. It would create a pedestrian and cycle route between England and Scotland with the usual razzmatazz for tourists and have enough in its locker to power 60,000 homes. The decommissioning of Chapelcross won’t be complete for some 80 years. Meanwhile, Annan’s dreams of a transformed harbour, a tourist hub, were thwarted in 2023 when an application for £8 million from Michael Gove, who had the Tory government’s portfolio for the Orwellian concept of ‘levelling up’, failed.

[herpsandbirds]

(Southern) Green Anaconda (Eunectus murinus), family Boidae, Perú

photograph by Jeroen Ten Haaf

[frodothefair]

I don’t know if anyone has caught the irony yet, but Hafrith’s name has the Old English element “haaf,” which means “sea” and the element “rith” which means small river or stream. Basically, it invokes the idea of a stream that swells and becomes a sea.

Lothíriel has a handmaiden named “sea-river” even though they are in Rohan and Hafrith is as Rohanese as they come. It may also be prophetic for the fact that she ends up with Amrothos.

[scotianostra]

16th July 1832 was a very sad day on Shetland when tragedy struck .

On tis day 31 Shetland "sixerns", the traditional fishing craft of Shetland and a total of 105 crewmen were lost in a storm.

There were between 300 and 500 sixareens or sixerns in Shetland. The Haaf fishing proved to be a hard life for these boats and they only tended to last 5 or 6 years. When they finished their lives as a fishing vessel some ended up being used as a flit boat for moving livestock, peats and other goods between islands or from ship to shore. The sixareens may eventually have ended up as the roof of shed or outbuilding. Nothing was ever wasted in Shetland, especially if it was wooden!

The men would travel up between 20 and 40 miles offshore. As the men were dealing with a prevailing wind, they could usually only sail in one direction. They were always happier if they could row out with a relatively light boat and sail back with a heavy load of fish!

When they reached the fishing grounds, the fishermen would barely be in sight of the highest hills in Shetland. They would have sea all around them.

Haaf fishing was very dangerous due to the unpredictable nature of the weather far out at sea. However, when you look at the numbers of men that fished and the length of time that they fished for, the actual disasters are relatively few.

On 16 July 1832 31 Shetland "sixareens" and a total of 105 crewmen were lost in a storm. The event is still remembered as "The Bad Day". A London Distress Fund was set up and raised the sum of £3000. The money was raised for the dependants of the crofter-fishermen lost. The crew of one boat in 1832, did manage a lucky escape from the storm as they were picked up by a passing American sloop. However, the Captain of the American vessel refused to alter his course to Philadelphia and so, despite passing close to Orkney, the survivors had to cross the Atlantic and endure a further six months away from home before returning.

During another storm on 20th July 1881, hurricane force winds caught the fishermen by surprise. The boats that tried to come home were mostly capsized or swamped, but those that stayed at their lines for the most part survived. In all ten boats foundered and 58 Haaf fishermen lost their lives. They left behind 34 widows and 85 orphans. Six of these boats and 36 of the men were from the fishing station at Gloup in North Yell. It was a tragic loss for a small community.

On the morning of 21st December 1900, boats from Firth, Mossbank and Toft set off for the winter haddock fishing. They were some 32 kilometres (20 miles) away, between the Horse of Burravpoe and Da Snap, when they were caught in a sudden and severe gale from the north-west.Many were lost during the storm which came on in the space of five minutes. The fleet were scattered. One made it to Whalsay, Skerries and Lunning but the rest were lost.

22 men were drowned, leaving 15 widows (5 of whom were pregnant), and 51 children. Firth was hit the hardest. Many of the men were great fishermen and the disaster devastated the Delting fishing industry, which never recovered. The women continued to work the crofts. Children grew up and moved away, leading to a rapid decline in population.

The plight of the families left destitute led to a lot of publicity in local and national press. The Delting Disaster Fund was set up to help those affected and it was one of Queen Victoria’s last public acts to appeal for support

These major fishing disasters signalled the beginning of the end for Haaf fishing. The herring fishery in the 1880s and the Crofter’s Act of 1886, which put an end to the truck system, were two more nails in its coffin.

Larger safer boats were introduced and undecked sixareens were replaced by fully decked smacks. Fishermen could finally install a few home comforts. However, when the steam trawler was introduced, longlining in large sailing boats couldn’t compete economically. Haaf fishing stopped quite quickly at this point.

There are few sixareens left in Shetland, a couple of replicas and bits and pieces lying around here and there. At the Shetland Museum and Archives there’s a replica sixareen called the Vaila Mae. She sails regularly in Lerwick Harbour and you can even get a trip on her during Shetland Boat Week!

One of the only surviving sixareens from the past can be seen in the Shetland Museum. She was built as the Foula mail boat, which fished for a little while and then ended up as a flit boat for shifting peats. She didn’t spend much of her life as a fishing sixareen.

You can find memorials all over Shetland to those lost at sea not just for the tragedies I have mentioned today but all in general, the Shetland way of life having strong heritage links with the sea that surrounds it.

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 18, 2024

Neural circuit mechanisms for transforming learned olfactory valences into wind-oriented movement. Aso, Y., Yamada, D., Bushey, D., Hibbard, K. L., Sammons, M., Otsuna, H., … Hige, T. (2023). eLife, 12, e85756.

Stimulus-Specific Prediction Error Neurons in Mouse Auditory Cortex. Audette, N. J., & Schneider, D. M. (2023). Journal of Neuroscience, 43(43), 7119–7129.

Guinea baboons are strategic cooperators. Formaux, A., Sperber, D., Fagot, J., & Claidière, N. (2023). Science Advances, 9(43).

Perceptual learning across saccades: Feature but not location specific. Grzeczkowski, L., Shi, Z., Rolfs, M., & Deubel, H. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(43), e2303763120.

Continuous multiplexed population representations of task context in the mouse primary visual cortex. Hajnal, M. A., Tran, D., Einstein, M., Martelo, M. V., Safaryan, K., Polack, P.-O., … Orbán, G. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6687.

Mood fluctuations shift cost–benefit tradeoffs in economic decisions. Heerema, R., Carrillo, P., Daunizeau, J., Vinckier, F., & Pessiglione, M. (2023). Scientific Reports, 13, 18173.

Reliable retrieval is intrinsically rewarding: Recency, item difficulty, study session memory, and subjective confidence predict satisfaction in word-pair recall. Holm, L., & Wells, M. (2023). PLOS ONE, 18(10), e0292866.

Curiosity evolves as information unfolds. Hsiung, A., Poh, J.-H., Huettel, S. A., & Adcock, R. A. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(43), e2301974120.

Human perception of spatial frequency varies with stimulus orientation and location in the visual field. Kirsch, W., & Kunde, W. (2023). Scientific Reports, 13, 17656.

Dynamic neural representations of memory and space during human ambulatory navigation. Maoz, S. L. L., Stangl, M., Topalovic, U., Batista, D., Hiller, S., Aghajan, Z. M., … Suthana, N. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6643.

Visual event boundaries restrict anchoring effects in decision-making. Ongchoco, J. D. K., Walter-Terrill, R., & Scholl, B. J. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(44), e2303883120.

A thalamic-hippocampal CA1 signal for contextual fear memory suppression, extinction, and discrimination. Ratigan, H. C., Krishnan, S., Smith, S., & Sheffield, M. E. J. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6758.

A quantitative model of ensemble perception as summed activation in feature space. Robinson, M. M., & Brady, T. F. (2023). Nature Human Behaviour, 7(10), 1638–1651.

Quantifying decision-making in dynamic, continuously evolving environments. Ruesseler, M., Weber, L. A., Marshall, T. R., O’Reilly, J., & Hunt, L. T. (2023). eLife, 12, e82823.

Predictions and rewards affect decision-making but not subjective experience. Sánchez-Fuenzalida, N., van Gaal, S., Fleming, S. M., Haaf, J. M., & Fahrenfort, J. J. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(44), e2220749120.

Lateral orbitofrontal cortex integrates predictive information across multiple cues to guide behavior. Tegelbeckers, J., Porter, D. B., Voss, J. L., Schoenbaum, G., & Kahnt, T. (2023). Current Biology, 33(20), 4496-4504.e5.

Cross-modal representation of identity in the primate hippocampus. Tyree, T. J., Metke, M., & Miller, C. T. (2023). Science, 382(6669), 417–423.

Optogenetic activation of visual thalamus generates artificial visual percepts. Wang, J., Azimi, H., Zhao, Y., Kaeser, M., Vaca Sánchez, P., Vazquez-Guardado, A., … Rainer, G. (2023). eLife, 12, e90431.

Parietal-driven visual working memory representation in occipito-temporal cortex. Xu, Y. (2023). Current Biology, 33(20), 4516-4523.e5.

Neuronal Population Activity in Macaque Visual Cortices Dynamically Changes through Repeated Fixations in Active Free Viewing. Yamane, Y., Ito, J., Joana, C., Fujita, I., Tamura, H., Maldonado, P. E., … Grün, S. (2023). ENeuro, 10(10).

[bonemarrowrites]

Hench’d Hunch

Contains: M/M (multiple), Dubcon, Trapped, DP, Group, Cum Inflation, like, so much cum and then some more. Shaming. Monster sex.

Explicit short story. Bandit leader’s rowdy group takes advantage of him, when he gets stuck between two pillars.

The men were getting desperate. Our small stone fort was falling apart, and we hadn’t found any good loot in weeks. Most of the crew were drunk or just getting there. I hadn’t fought my way all the way to the top for this.

Sure, I had made some bad decisions in the past, but otherwise, I had kept the whole 50-man strong gang well-fed and rich. Now there were whispers of mutiny in the air and I didn’t like it. No one dared to defy me directly. I had shown my worth as a strong leader during multiple brawls and had the muscles and the scars to prove it.

The last night’s rain had moistened the wooden pillars of my fort from deep within and it made my muscles ache. I watched as my crew was getting rowdy down in the courtyard. Some gambled with their last earnings and others tried to get into fist fights. The tensions kept rising with each tankard they downed and all the pride I had regarding hiring them washed away with each gulp.

The deep forest we lived in kept us safe from the authorities, the forest was known to be a dangerous place, but the roads it held were quicker than the ones guarded by the local lady’s sentinels. That all changed when about a month ago a great flood washed it all away. Now we only got some light foot traffic, which did not match with our spending habits.

Things are truly getting dire, I thought to myself as I massaged my shoulder with my right hand.

Maybe I should get the new recruit and make him massage my back. I could make him help me with my aching loins. The thought of his full lips around my cock started to arouse me. While I was lost in the image of getting sucked, some of the men had drawn a crude picture of me and threw darts at it, laughing while hitting my face. My lungs filled with the fresh forest air and I roared from the top of my keep.

“WHOEVER THROWS THE NEXT DART WILL GET A BEATING! TAKE IT DOWN NOW!”

A long silence fell into the courtyard as every member of my gang heard my yell. Grudgingly, they took it down and started to spread out. “Stupid brutes,” I thought by myself, feeling the anger taking over me, I booted the creaking pillar next to me. A large shard of wood broke and flew down as I made contact with the pillar. The wood was so soft, I didn’t even feel anything through my leather boot.

Frustrated, I turned around to face the stairs which would take me to the courtyard. I had to find the new recruit to make my day better. As I took my first step the wooden pillar groaned as its weaker lower part caved in. With a loud crash, the pillar fell towards the pillar next to it taking it down with it. I spun around just as both pillars fell towards me. I managed to dodge the first pillar, but the second one dropped on my back and pinned me below my shoulder blades between the two pillars.

I let out an angry cry. The pillar had hurt my back and without proper wrench space, I couldn’t push the pillar. Blunting pain eased quickly as I started to think about my next step. The angle of the fallen pillar had also pinned my leg down below the ankle, leaving me unable to even kick myself free. I could scream for help, but what good that would do to me? If my men came to my help, they would see this as a sign of weakness and slit my throat. I had to get out by myself and I had to do it fast, because of the loud noise the collapsing had made.

Luckily, the ceiling hadn’t collapsed. The two pillars I had accidentally broken weren’t load-bearing. I tried to wiggle myself free, but soon realized it wasn’t an option either.

I heard someone walking up the stairs, making me wiggle even more, hoping to find an escape.

“Are you okay, boss?” I heard Haaf, my right-hand man, call. I couldn’t let him see me like this.

“EVERYTHINGS ALRIGHT!” I yelled, trying to put anger back into my voice, “THE KEEP IS FALLING APART AND I’M ANGRY!” When I was angry, my crew usually avoided me. They knew that I acted volatile and might feel my fist.

I heard him pause his pace. “You sure, boss?” he asked, the bastard actually sounded like he was worried about me, but I knew he would stab me if given the chance.

“YES! MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!” I yelled back, but whenever the sound of my voice wasn’t convincing enough or he just wanted to take a peek at the crash, I heard him continuing his hike up. In a frenzy, I tried to escape my predicament to no avail.

The look on the half-orcs face must have been one for the wanted poster when he saw me wiggling around, hopelessly stuck in a slouching position.

“Boss?” Was the only word Haaf managed to mutter as he saw me. The entrance to the stairway was right behind me, making me unable to see his wide grin. His silence let me know that it was all over, he would take my life and my place. I surrendered myself to my impending doom.

Haaf circled around the pillars to face me and crouched so I could feel his smoky breath on my face.

“Oh, boss. You’ve got yourself quite the pickle!” he laughed mockingly “You do know no one would even bat an eye if I were to kill you right here and now” I glared at him and his grin grew even wider on his green face.

“…But you’ve been good to me… Sometimes.” He said with a short pause, “… And you could still be good to me.”

As he finished his sentence, he stood up and unbuttoned his pants, letting his modest cock hang free right in front of my face. My eyes widened with bewilderment.

“Give me a good suck and I will help you free,” Haaf growled.

His offering surprised me, “You’re not going to kill me?”

“Of course not and if you’re a good boy, no one needs to know about this,” Haaf answered back, “And remember… No teeth,” he added.

The deal sounded better than what I’d expected, so I nodded silently and reached for his sheath. My left arm managed to reach his firmly hanging balls as I closed my lips around the uncut cap. Touching another man's junk was something I had never done before. I was the one who was supposed to be the taker, but here I was, helplessly trapped and slowly taking in my right-hand man’s soft tool.

“You need to move your head and use your tongue, idiot,” The man said in a joyous tone. Haaf put his hand on my head and started to push it back and forward. His member became firmer and slimier with my spit with each push and the movement of my lips popped his tip out. Haaf’s eyes twinkled with delight as I took him deeper in. I moved my tongue beneath his rod, feeling the pulsing veins. With his balls in my hand I could feel him getting closer, so I decided to squeeze them a little bit. which made Haaf moan.

Our deal was interrupted when I heard more confused voices behind me.

“Is boss okay?” Someone said, with three others asking the same question. Part of my group had come to check what had happened. Haaf pulled his member even deeper when I started to struggle.

“Come in boys, boss is giving us a treat today!” He howled at them as their confusion turned into malice.

Now there were five of them. Haaf, a hill troll, two half-giants, and an ogre. I had never bothered to learn their names, which I now regretted.

Haaf kept himself deep in my mouth as I felt someone grouping me behind. I attempted to break free from his touch, but someone else joined in and pulled my pants down with one swift motion. Their fatty fingers began to harass my hole mercilessly. Someone grabbed my balls and laughed.

“And this is the one you boasted about?” The troll said while he gave my cock a rough stroke.

“Maybe he is a grower?” One of the giants snickered, “Well, see…” The troll answered as he played with my hardening cock.

Haaf moaned loudly and thrusted his member forward as he came, shooting cum into my throat. After covering my mouth in white, he pulled out his softening member.

With a pleased smile on his face, Haaf said “Boss is still a beginner, someone should give him more to learn from.” Emboldened by Haaf’s words, the other half-giant took his place while stroking his chubby cock, “I can show him something different,” the giant laughed and took a bunch of my red hair into his grip and pulled his hard member into my mouth without any warning. His reach was longer than Haaf’s and filled my mouth completely. The troll behind me milked my cock as the giant next to him dipped his huge thumb inside my undefiled hole, with the other half-giant’s member in my mouth, I was unable to scream from the sharp pain making them all laugh at my reaction. Haaf stood next to the giant and started to caress my nipple piercings with one hand.

Giant violating my mouth was much rougher than Haaf. His thrusts were faster and deeper. His thick girth felt rough even with the lubrication of my wet mouth. He stretched my jaw wide, making me spill some of my saliva to the ground with a wet gurgling sound.

The man behind me slid another finger in, rolling them around my puckered ring. The amount of stimulation all around my body made my mind go into a lustful haze. Had I known my previous partners might have felt the same way made me even harder. My excitement made me want to be used by them. Without even thinking about it, I spread my legs as wide as I could. I craved for more and it made my balls twitch.

“Look boys, it looks like the boss is a bitch after all,” one of them said, making the others laugh again. The troll began to stroke me even harder and I felt pre-cum leaking from my tip. The giant behind me pulled his cock out and leaned in, his hot breath hitting my wanting hips. My hole stretched from his forceful push, popping his tip violently in, splitting me in half. Haaf’s strong arms fondling of my fat tits made my nipples hard, he had started to use both of his hands, while the giant penetrated my mouth, his tip now reaching the end of my throat, trying to pry me even more open.

I came with a yelp, which was muffled by the cock. Shooting cum into the stone floor. Through the huffs, I could hear laughter. My cock refused to soften, keeping some of its firmness as the attack on me continued. My eyes rolled back as the other giant reached deeper and deeper into me from behind. With each thrust he invaded me over and over again, never slowing down.

I finally saw the ogre, he was behind the giant who kept pushing himself inside my throat. His cock was even bigger than the ones abusing me right now and it grew bigger with each stroke he made.

All of a sudden, I felt two deep thrusts against my muscular butt, which was then filled with warm and thick seed. His kinsman wasn’t far behind and shot his semen far down my throat. They both pulled out at the same time giving me a small breather. Haaf crouched and lift my head up.

“How is that, boss? have you had your fill?” he asked.

With panting whispers, I begged for more as the giant’s cum dripped down from my lips.

“As you wish, boss” Haaf said and I felt another cock entering me from behind. It must have been the troll, since it wasn’t as thick as the giant’s, but had more length. Expecting the ogre to step forward I was surprised to see someone else. Without my knowledge, more of my crew had joined in. The hogman in front of me, was slightly smaller than the fat ogre, but his porcine phallus was long and slithery. Eagerly, I took it in, relieved to have something narrower in my mouth. Both cocks slid into my gaping holes with ease and started to pump into me. Haaf continued to play with my nipples and I could feel someone taking my used balls between his wet lips. I groaned as I felt my cock getting hard again.

The Troll’s tip was wide and hitting me hard, making my belly bulge in the process. Someone else was also trying to slide into the same hole. The stubby tip spread me even wider and took turns with the other cock, yet having a shorter reach. The unseen man under me was soaked with my second orgasm. As the hog finished deep into me my belly began to swell from the amount of the cum I had in me. As everyone took turns, it grew larger and larger. In my fervor, I lost my count of how many times I had been used as a cum bucket. Between their turns, I was only given short pauses.

The ogre still hadn’t taken its turn, like it was waiting for something. I was sure everyone else in my crew had taken their chance, men finished earlier rested and came to ravage me again. Some of them shot their loads on me, making my tanned skin glisten beautifully in the evening sun. Their occasional rests let them abuse me for hours, giving me a chance to heal my worn holes with healing potions when needed.

I had my lost place as the group's leader but had become something even better. I was their bitch and I knew somewhere deep in me that this was something I had always wanted.

Inspired by the troll and his friend, more of my crew began to penetrate my holes together. I felt like I could take in even more and started to plead for me to fill me entirely.

Somehow, three of my men stepped behind me and put pressure on my backside, forcing it to open for them. With a stable rhythm they pistoned into me as I was filled to my capacity. my moans drowned in cum the man before me shot into my maw.

Battering behind me made my guts shift from the tension. My legs trembled as fourth one joined in. I was sure some of them had someone else pushing into them. One by one they came and made my belly bulge from the weight of their seed. Haaf kissed my neck and purred into my ear “What a good whore you are, boss.” Once again he was hard and ready to take his third turn with me. with a smug look on his face. Hearing those words excited me. I had been given a great amount of knowledge about how to be a good slut. My protruding belly was the mark of pride.

I must have climaxed multiple times myself, throbbing cocks inside of me made me harden again and again. Feeling all kinds of sizes and shapes kept things fresh, I never knew what to expect next even though most had taken multiple turns.

As Haaf finished inside of me the Ogre finally walked to me and looked into my pleading eyes. He grabbed the pillar holding me down and easily lifted it off, letting me finally be free. Just as I was about to collapse, he grabbed me by the waist, making some of the cum inside me to gush out. He was longer than two men combined and wider than a table. The Ogre pulled me against his scaly skin and forced his forked large tongue inside of my mouth, reaching depths no other man had. His swollen tip was the size of my beefy thigh and it wanted to get in.

Slowly it began to split me open, making me even more chock-full than the four dicks before it. My worn body was nothing but a cocksleeve for the ogre as he pushed himself inside. My passionate moans echoed in the air. While spreading me open with his wet cock, the ogre spun me around for everybody to see my ever-bulging belly. The length of his member kept me from reaching the ground with my feet. With every two fingerbreadths he pulled me down he lifted me one up. I imagined his cock reaching my chest in my thirst, knowing it was impossible. As my cheeks finally reached his sack, he held me with both of his hands and began to soothe his aching rod with my body. The cum inside of me worked as lubrication as my walls squeezed him tightly.

The large veins pulsed inside me both of our bodies begging to be released. The Ogre hastened its movements splashing cum from my mouth, painting my skin whiteish. He let out a strangled roar as he pulled himself into me balls deep. Sizzling jets of seed exploded from his tip into me. The ogre grunted and inseminated me again, swelling my bloated belly more and more. My whole body shuddered as some of it forced its way to my throat and made me puke some out. The thick green-tinted goo forced out the loads of the other members of our group and replenished my body full again. Every pulse shot another load and had I been sane, I’d been afraid of drowning.

After seeing he couldn’t fit anymore into me, the ogre pulled me off and let me collapse onto the ground. Hot cum still pouring from his cock, it was meant to fill completely different mate, but I had been a satisfiable partner.

The men were tried, some had already left the terrace. My body kept expelling the excessive cum, yet my belly was too heavy to carry. I gasped air against the sticky floor, finally finding my fill. Tomorrow I would announce my stepping down, letting Haaf take my place and he would lead the group into a new golden era. I would stay of course. Let the men take their frustrations on me, show all the tricks they had in their minds, and be the bitch I was always meant to be.

[jiubilant]

dockside solitude has been taking shape in my mind for awhile as the portion of the city in which fabulous wealth brushes elbows with poverty. there are fishers and whalers fishing and whaling (imagine) in the bay but haafing harbor is known mostly as an advantageous port of call for merchant vessels bound back and forth from the bretic fiefs and northern morrowind. dockside boasts lots of warehouses where imported and exported goods are stored on their way inland or overseas. lots of factories (as in trading stations where factors do business rather than the modern definition). customs-houses. drydocks where ships are refitted and cross-planked for journeys through the northern pack ice. local merchants like erikur often manage to shoulder in and make lots of money but, despite its grand and slow decline, the king of all this industry is still the east empire company

but in addition to being a commercial hub dockside is also the home of all the working people (not the merchants and investors, who mostly live in more fashionable tenements "on the rock," i.e. within the city walls) who grease the wheels of the company's trade empire. its clerks and customs-folk and fishers and whalers and dockers and sailors are fed in public-houses and fishmarkets and housed in tenements of the more cramped and rickety kind. conditions are particularly miserable for the dockers (longshoremen) whose work is back-breaking and dangerous and whose efforts to establish their own guild and advocate for higher wages have been blocked for years. clerks do comparatively "comfortable" work in the factories—and are afforded more opportunities for advancement than the hard laborers—but are equally downtrodden and underpaid. the frustrations simmering in dockside threaten to come to a boil in 201 with the new dangers posed to maritime trade—and consequently the livelihoods of everyone in the community—by war and piracy and dragons trying to devour the world etc. interesting times

[luhvleewovenwrds]

//baad thingz//ded thingz//

//saad thingz haaf too haa.pen suhm.tymz//

Common murre. Photographed 7-7-2022.

[snowberry-crostata]

WIP Wednesday

Wow, a post before 10 PM! A sick day spent on the couch seems like a good day for WIPs, and it just so happens to be Wednesday. @thequeenofthewinter and @sylvienerevarine tagged me like a month ago (so sorry!) so I get to tag them back this time!

I realized looking back at the last Palace of Kings WIP that it was actually pretty light on details, which was a surprise to me considering how long it took just to get to that point. There’s a lot of counting involved in isometric perspective, and this particular map has a lot of details that end up getting obscured behind other details - it was all a bit of a nightmare to get things lined up and you can see in the video where I eventually gave up and just started labeling parts and dimensions. I’m finally satisfied with the bones of it, so now I can start filling in some details.

The alternate Jarls are also still in progress. Two of my favorite alt Jarls got some attention this morning, Brina Merillis and Torygg. I really like Brina as Jarl, and her design is probably the closest to her in-game model out of any of the Jarls. I wanted Torygg to look a lot younger than he does for his in-game model. I always got the impression that he was quite young when he became High King, just a boy who hadn’t yet grown into his father’s clothes. His design is more reflective of traditional Haafing dress (pelt and all) than what Elisif wears.

[2023suedsee]

Sodeli...........etz bini also in Auckland.........Dr Flug isch lang und aasträngend xi.........und denn bin gescht zobe am 11i im Hotel iigrollt......In dr Hoffnig dr JetLag z entschärfe hani e Schloofdablette gschlugg und bi hütt em Morge am 8i brav uss em Bettli ghüpft............denn hani zmoergelet und denn hani Auckland uffgrollt per Bus....... s isch luschtig xi.....ha e richtig unverfälschte Iibligg bikoo.........so bitz dur alli Quartier........denn hani uss Noschdalgie im Haafe Auschtere gässe, welli das amigs mitm Alois dött au gmacht ha........ jo und denn ummediigeret und denn widr heim......... etz isch do halb achti, i ha brav öbbis scharfs indischcs gmampft.....und gang dängg etz denn langsam go schlööfele........morn bini denn ruehig, well widr on the road.....noch Papeete und denn sötts mol chli weniger reiseintensiv si und chli meh luege und gniesse........ aso biss denne.............

[nokzeit]

Regionale Bio-Lebensmittel erleben und schmecken

Regionale Bio-Lebensmittel erleben und schmecken (Grafik: pm) Buchen/Muckental. (pm) „Das Motto der fünften Öko-Aktionswochen in Baden-Württemberg ist auch beim Abschluss Programm. Die erst im vergangenen Jahr gegründete Tofumanufaktur der Familie Haaf aus Elztal-Muckental setzt das Motto ,Baden-Württemberg is(s)t bio‘ auf eine ganz besondere Weise um. Die Soja-Produkte werden dort konsequent mit regionalen Rohstoffen hergestellt und mit dem Lebensmittelhandwerk zusammengebracht. Lokal kaufen und daraus spannende und vielfältige Gerichte zuzubereiten – das funktioniert. „Ich konnte mich heute zum Abschluss der Ökoaktionswochen gemeinsam mit den Schülerinnen und Schülern der Helene-Weber-Schule davon überzeugen. Kurze Wege vom Acker über die Verarbeitung bis auf den Teller schonen das Klima und stärken die regionale Landwirtschaft. Wer regionales Bio kauft, unterstützt die Bio-Bäuerinnen und Bio-Bauern vor Ort und leistet einen Beitrag zum Schutz unserer Lebensgrundlagen“, sagte der Minister für Ernährung, Ländlichen Raum und Verbraucherschutz, Peter Hauk MdL, am Montag beim Kochen und Verkosten mit Schülerinnen und Schülern der Helene-Weber-Schule in Buchen anlässlich der aktuell laufenden Öko-Aktionswochen 2024. Unternehmen bei der Umsetzung ihrer Ideen zu unterstützen, ist eine der Aufgaben der vierzehn Bio-Musterregionen in Baden-Württemberg. Die Bio-Musterregion Neckar-Odenwald fördert die Vermarktung regionaler Bio-Lebensmittel unter anderem durch Bio-Markttage oder die Odenwälder Bio-GenussTaschen, die sich perfekt als Geschenk eignen. Bei Kochkursen im Rahmen der Öko-Aktionswochen kommen die Teilnehmerinnen und Teilnehmer ganz praktisch auf den Geschmack von regionalem Bio. „Nichts wirkt sich nachhaltiger auf das eigene Handeln aus, als das eigene Erleben und der direkte Kontakt mit den Menschen, die unsere heimischen Bio-Lebensmittel herstellen. Deswegen veranstalten wir nun schon im fünften Jahr die landesweiten Öko-Aktionswochen als eine der Maßnahmen für mehr Bio aus Baden-Württemberg. So können wir vielen Menschen zeigen, dass regionale Lebensmittel vielfältiger sind, als viele denken“, erläuterte Minister Hauk. In der Helene-Weber-Schule Buchen stehen eine nachhaltige und gesundheitsfördernde Ernährung nicht nur bei der heutigen Veranstaltung auf dem Stundenplan, sondern sind zentraler Inhalt der vielfältigen Bildungsangebote aus den Bereichen Hauswirtschaft, Erziehung und Gesundheit. „Unsere Gesellschaft braucht Sie als Fachkräfte für Hauswirtschaft und Ernährungsbildung dringend“, wandte sich Minister Hauk an die Schülerinnen und Schüler. Hintergrundinformationen: Bei den Öko-Aktionswochen wird das Engagement der ökologischen Agrar- und Ernährungswirtschaft für Jung und Alt mit allen Sinnen sichtbar, erlebbar und begreifbar gemacht. Veranstalter sind das Ministerium für Ernährung, Ländlichen Raum und Verbraucherschutz Baden-Württemberg und die MBW-Marketinggesellschaft. Die Verbände des ökologischen Landbaus unterstützen und begleiten die Öko-Aktionswochen als Kooperationspartner. Sechs Wochen lang werden im Rahmen der diesjährigen Öko-Aktionswochen vom 16.09. - 31.10.2024 unter dem Motto ,Baden-Württemberg is(s)t Bio‘ Bio-Erlebnisse wie Besichtigungen, Wanderungen, Kochkurse oder Radtouren in ganz Baden-Württemberg für interessierte Verbraucherinnen und Verbraucher angeboten. Lesen Sie den ganzen Artikel

[scotianostra]

On 20/21 July 1881, the Gloup Fishing Disaster occurred, in which 58 fishermen were killed by an unexpected summer storm.

The Gloup Disaster Memorial is a statue of a woman looking out to sea with a child held in her arms. On the 20th July 1881 this depicted the scene all along the coast at Gloup, and other coastal communities in Shetland. Women waited, and hoped that their husbands and children would return. But sadly many did not. The Gloup Disaster was perhaps the beginning of the end for the Haaf Fishing. This could have been the point where it was realised that going so far to sea in relatively small boats, was just too big a risk, and cost in terms of lives lost.

The word ‘haaf’ is derived from the Norse word ‘hav’, meaning open sea. This was certainly the case with the Shetland ‘Far Haaf’ fishing. The haaf fishing was carried out from the mid 18th century, until the end of the 19th century, and the crew of a Sixareen could be as much as 50 miles from home when they set their fishing lines. The Sixareen was an open 6 oared boat with a square sail. For stability the boats set out on fishing trips with a large amount of stone ballast on board, which was dumped as fish was caught to replace it.

The sixareen crews, forced by the fear and burden of debt, were under constant pressure from the Lairds to fish, and often this pressure meant that a crew would take a chance and stay at sea beyond the point where the weather conditions dictated that it was unsafe. The Haaf season traditionally started on the 12th May, although the crews would have spent some time beforehand tarring the boats, preparing their equipment, and ensuring that the lodges they would spend their time ashore in, were fit for habitation. Weather permitting a crew made 2 trips each week, Monday to Wednesday, and Thursday to Saturday, in which time the crew, baited and set up to 100 lines for Ling, Tusk, and Cod.

20th July 1881, started as what is referred to as a “day atween wadders”, there had been strong winds for days and the boats had been kept ashore, but the morning of the 20th dawned clear with light winds, and although there was still a heavy sea running, the men were keen to get to sea. Their departure was delayed for the funeral of Jeemie Henry, skipper of the sixareen “Elizabeth”, who had died of “Bool Cramp”, the name given then to acute appendicitis.

Going over 40 miles to the fishing grounds, using simple landmarks for navigation, the boats had no idea of what was to happen. The crews were happy that the bad weather was over. If only they could have had the benefit of modern forecasts. A fast moving depression which had formed to the west near Iceland rushed in with Hurricane force winds. The crews were taken by surprise, and made every effort to reach shore, but for some crews that was impossible.

Some of the boats which made shore were to report seeing boats overturned, and with no sign of life, there was nothing they could do, they had to consider the survival of their own crew. The heroism of the skippers who managed to reach shore in that storm should never be forgotten.

tthe bodies of only seven men were found, 36 of the men were from Gloup. The 58 drowned haaf fishermen left behind 34 widows and 85 orphans.

[seewetter]

Mythic Creatures by Region & Culture

Part 10: Other

Modern

Acarus Crossii; Caveman; Chupacabra first in Puerto Rico; Cryptid; Cryptid whale; Cyborg; Doppelgänger; Fort Manoel Ghost; Globster; Gremlin; Hammaspeikko; Holly King and Oak King; Lariosauro; Living Puppet ; Doll; Loys Ape; Ningen; Owlman is predates by Owlman from DC Comics; Phantom Cats; Red Lady; Sewer alligator; Snow Queen; Sooterkin; Springheeled Jack; The Devil Whale broad category, includes Sindbad and medieval accounts; Tree Octopus; UFO

George Luis Borges

Á Bao A Qu; Peryton

Theosophy (included for completion's sake & because sometimes artists want to make art about fucked up 19th century cults that would make Lovecraft either proud or quake with fear or both)

Root race (theosophy)

Universal (not always universal to all cultures, but these wiki entries covered too many cultures to not basically put them in a category of their own)

Death; Deity; Dema deity; Demigod; Demon ; Demons and Demon (list); Eagles in Myth; Elf ; Elfs, Elves; Fairy ; Fairies; Fairy Queen; Ghost; Giant; Green Man; Hellhound; Lake Monster; Lynx; Mermaid and Merwomen; Merman; Mummy ; Mummies; Night Hag; Nightmare; Ogre; Poltergeist; Sack Man; Sea Monster; Sea Serpent; Shadow Person; Skeleton; Snake_Worship; Spirit spouse; Spirit ; Spirits; St. Elmo's Fire; Trickster ; Tricksters; Vampire; Vampire folklore worldwide; Werecat; White Lady ; White Ladies (ghost); Will-o'-wisp; Winged cat; Winged lion; Witch

Entries not on Wikipedia

Frau Holunder; Frohn; Frost Giant; Fuddittu; Fuglietti; Fujettu; Fuochi Fatui; Füttermännchen;

Ga-gorib; Ghostly Rider; Glucksmännchen; Goblin-Groom; Gommes; Good Folk; Good Neighbors from the Sunset Land; Gotwergi; Grandinili; Grey Alien; Grey Man; Grigs; Groac'h Vor; Guerrionets; Guriuz; Guter Johann; Gwarchells; Gwaryn-a-Throt; Gwazig-Gan;

Haaf-Fish; Hadas; Hags; Häkelmänner; Hakenmann; Ham; Härdmandlene; Haugbui; Hausbock; Havfrue; Havmand; Hayyot; He-Mann; He-Männer; Heerwische; Heidenmanndli; Heidenweibchen; Heinzelmann; Heinzlin; Heinzlin; Hejkadlo; Hemann; Herdweibchen; Herne the Hunter; Hidden Folk; Hille Bingels; Hillmen; Hitte-Hatte; Hob-and-his-Lanthorn; Hob-Gob; Hob-Thrush Hob; Hoihoimann; Homme de Bouc; Hommes Cornus; Hongatar; Hooters; Hopfenhütel; Houggä-Ma; Houpoux; Hsigo missspelling of Xiao; Hüamann; Huckepoten; Hulde Folk; Huldre Folk; Hulte; Husbuk; Hütchen; Hutzelmann; Hyldeqvind; Hyter Sprites;

Ice Mannikins; Ice Queen; Ignis Fatuus; Intulo; Irrbloss; Irrlichter; Iskrzycki; Jack o'Lanthorn; Iaculi;

Jashtesmé; Jean de la Bolieta; Jeannot; Jezinky; Jinnalaluo; Joan-in-the-Wad; Jolabukkar; Jüdel; Judys; Juggernaut; Julbuk;

Kållråden; Karlá; Katajatar; Kaukas; Kepetz; Kerions; Kielkropf; Killcrops; Kit-with-the-Canstick; Klaubauf; Klopferle; Knockerlings; Knocky Boh; Korandon; Korn-Kater; Kornikaned; Kourils; Koutsodaimonas; Krosnyata; Kyrkogrimm;

L'Homme Velu; Lachesis; Le Criard; Le Patre; Le Rudge-Pula; Lebraude; Leipreachán; Lešni Mužove; Lešni Pany; Löfviska; Lohjungfern; Lord Nann; Lord of the Forest; Lord of the Mountains; Lorggen; Lörggen; Loumerottes; Luchtenmannekens; Lundjungfrur; Lupeux; Lurican; Lurigadaun; Lurikeen; Lygte Men; Lyktgubbe; Lysgubbar;

Maćić see Massarioli; Maciew; Macinghe; Maemaeler; Maere; Mahjas Kungs; Maighdean Mara; Malienitza; Mamalić see Massarioli; Mamucca; Mantellioni; Mara Daoine; Mara-Warra; Marantule; Maratega; Mara-Warra; Margot-la-Fée; Markopolen; Martes; Marui; Master Hammerlings; Master Johannes; Mazapegolo; Mazzamarelle; Mazzamerieddu; Meerminnen; Meerweiber; Melch Dick; Merry Dancers; Meryons; Metten; Miodrag; Miri; Moine Trompeur; Monachetto; Monachicchio; Monoloke; Mora; Morgans; Moswyfjes; Mother's Blessing; Mountain Monks; Muse; Mützchen;

Nachtmännle; Nachtmart; Näcken; Näkku; Napfhans; Natrou-Monsieur; Necker; Neckers; Necks; Niägruisar; Nick-Nocker; Nickel; Night Folk; Nikkisen; Nikkur; Nimble Men; Nion Nelou; Nip the Napper; Nisken; Nissen god Dreng; Nörglein; Nörke; Nörkele;

Oaraunle; One with the White Hand; Onnerbänkissen; Orchi; Orculi; Orculli; Otterbahnkin; Owd Lad; Oxions;

Painajainen; Pandafeche; Panes; Pantegane; Pantegani; Para; Parcae (Moerae); Parzae (Moerae); Pechmanderln; Penette; Persévay; Petit Jeannot; Petty Fairie; Phooka; Pilwiz; Pingel; Piskies; Pitzln; Poludnitsy; Poppele; Poulpikans; Povoduji; Powries; Preinscheuhen; Pulter Klaes; Pumphut; Pundacciú; Purzinigele; Puschkait; Putzen; Puu-Halijad; Pysslinger-Folk;

Quaeldrytterinde; Queen of Elfland; Queen of Sirens; Querxe;

Redcombs; Rhagana; Rhiwallon; River Men; Roane; Robin Goodfellow; Robin Round Cap; Robot; Rododesa; Roggenmuhme; Rojenice; Rôpenkerl; Roughby; Rukh; Salbanelli;

Samovila ; Samovily; Sarván; Sauvageons; Scazzamurieddu; Schacht-Zwerge; Schlorchel; Schneefräulein; Schrätteli; Schrecksele; Seefräulein (Gwagged Annwn); Servant (Serván); Shishimora; Shopiltee; Sibille; Sileni; Silvane; Silvani; Skogsjungfru; Skogsnufvar; Skogsråt; Skougman; Skovmann; Skulld; Söedouen; Söetrolde; Soeurettes; Soltrait; Sotret; Souffle; Spunkies; Stendel; Stoicheioi; Strashila; Straszyldlo; Stroke Lad; Strömkarl; Sumascazzo; Swetylko;

Tan Noz; Tangye; Teuz; The Lovers; Thomas Boudic; Thumblings; Thusser; Tiddy Ones; Toggeli; Tom-Tit; Tomtevätte; Tomtrå; Tontuu; Trois Marks (Moerae); Tsmok; Tuometar; Unners-Boes-Thi;

Unterengadin; Untüeg; Urisk;

Vairies; Vardivil; Vardögl; Vardöiel; Vardygr; Vattar; Vihans; Vilenaci; Vileniki; Vili Čestitice; Vivani; Vivene; Vodni Moz; Vouivre; Vrukodlak; Vyatka;

Waalrüter; Wag at the Wa'; Waldweibchen; Waldzwerge; Watermöme; Wechselbalg; Wicht; Willy Rua; Witte Wijven (Moerae); Wives of Rica; Wolterken; Wood Folk; Wood Maidens; Wood Men; Wood Trolls; Wood Women;

Yarthkins; Yarupari;

Zinselmännchen; Ztrazhnik; Zuibotschnik