You walked into the
great hall, usual attitude, chin up, proud as always. You had your right to be
proud, certainly after the things you accomplished. You weren’t one of his to
begin with, you were a shieldmaiden ranked under the previous king of this
lands, against your will. Harald captured you in the attack and in all of that
you saved them. Despite all of that it wasn’t Harald laying his eyes on you, it
was his brother, Halfdan the Black. You stood still before that one throne and
bowed shortly, changing a short look with Halfdan who was eying you from his
stop against a pillar. ‘You wounded?’ King Harald asked. You looked down, to
the blood on your clothes and shrugged. ‘Not mine.’ You lied. Harald smiled
widely. ‘So it worked?’ ‘It worked.’ You answered, looking over your shoulder
to a few men walking in. Harald dismissed you with his finger and you came to
stand aside Halfdan, walking as straight up as you could although the pain flared
in your stomach a little. ‘You are hurt.’ Halfdan stated. You looked aside to
him, shrugging like it didn’t mean anything. ‘What you gonna do about it
Halfdan?’ You challenged him, smiling before walking out, leaving him all alone
with that desire of him.
It was late, ale
filling your head a little, music pounding your ears. Your hand flattened
against your stomach, arching your back to feeling the pain a little out. It
was then that his hand covered yours, sliding down over that wound to the edge
of your tunic. ‘You have no idea what you do to me.’ He whispered over your
shoulder. The tips of his fingers touched your bare skin and you slowly turned
your head looking to him. ‘What is it that I do to you?’ You asked him calmly,
playing along. He leaded your hand towards his body, that hard bumb in his
trousers. You squeezed it, giving him that small grin. ‘I see.’ You stroke the
fabrics over it and he pulled you closer, your back contacting with his chest. ‘Praying
on a wounded animal now?’ You asked, giving in on the brutality of his
movements. He hummed in your ear before placing a kiss underneath it, dragging
his teeth over your neck. He pulled you away from your place and you let him, following
him outside as he took you to a shed, sheep making noise while he so freely
started to make your armor loose. His mouth tasted like ale, a consuming taste
that took your deeper into your own blurriness. He freed the upper part of your
body and looked down to you. ‘Such beauty.’ He curved his fingers around your
breasts before his attention felt on the wound you had. He stroke it with his
thumb and you hissed, looking up at him heated. He chuckled, dark and slide his
fingers over the edges of your trousers. You unbuckled his belt, throwing it
down before loosening his pants, seeing what it released. You licked on the
thoughts of the feeling that could cause while he loosened your pants and
pressed you with your back against the wall. He stroke his member between your
legs and you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed you again.
‘I want you,’ he groaned, lifting you up stroking you in every possible way he
could. ‘Every night I image myself doing this,’ he pinched you against the wall
of the shed, feeling your wetness. Your breath hitched as you looked up to the
ceiling of that shed, moaning his name. He lined himself up with you and you
gladly took it, not even being able to breath when he sunk deeper into you. ‘So
good.’ He breathed with that typical possessive tone. He started moving, the
mix of your pain and his movements inside of your made you come much faster than
you anticipated. Maybe you needed a man after all. He was right … so good.
Find the other prompts under the tag: Avanti’s prompt celebration
Title: Ride With Me - part eleven Series prompt: Alternate Universe (AU) in which the reader is a horse rider who goes to a ranch in Arizona to gain work experience. During her time on the ranch she develops a strong connection with a wrangler and horse trainer named Dean. A story about a cowboy who falls for the girl, a story about the importance of family. Prompt part 11: The wranglers set up camp and settle down for the night. El Corona, Dean’s voice and Benny’s harmonica are all the ingredients needed for a fun time. But as the night progresses, you and Dean have a hard time fighting the attraction to each other. Words: 6127 words (bare with me, it will be worth your while) Characters: Dean, Benny, Reader, Jonathan (OFC), Macy (OFC), Brad (OFC), Ellen (mentioned), Jo (mentioned), Bobby (mentioned) Pairings: Dean x reader… Yes, this is THE part!! Warnings: language, mild drinking, all the fluff. Music:‘The Weight’ by The Band & ‘Desire’ by Ryan Adams Author’s note: Well, that didn’t take too long, did it? I am so excited about sharing this. My lovely beta readers @growningupgeek, @notnaturalanahi & @kathaswings already lost their sh*t over this part, hope you will do the same! Feedback is more than welcome. Tags: Below the story. Want to get tagged? Send me a message!
It took the six riders another seven hours to reach Willow Spring. The rough terrain forced them to move cautiously, especially since some members of the fellowship had little experience with these kind of circumstances. Another reason for the slow time could very well be that you halted several times, simply gaping at the amazing panorama that stretched from either side of your vision. The views were absolutely breathtaking, you have never seen anything like it. Drops that give the fear of heights a new definition, wide open spaces that make you feel so small in this incredible world. Old volcanic remnants emerged from the depths of the earth more than a hundred thousand years ago and still stand tall today. African daisies and brittlebush decorate the grounds for miles, blossoming after last month’s rain. Red mountains surround them for as far as the eye can see, separated from each other by deep valleys. The epic proportions of the Superstition Mountains are difficult to grasp.
As you stood there on the ridge, it came to you that you and Joplin are crossing these lands together. It’s quite liberating, to move through an area so remote and left untouched by men. And to accomplish this together with your four-legged friend gave you a new definition of freedom. You felt like an explorer, a conqueror. No car could take you here, not even a tank or a helicopter would be able to get you over these boulders and through the narrow canyons. Only a horse can. You rest your wrist on the horn of the saddle, the reins loosely in between the fingers of you right hand. Joplin still speedwalks under you and you stopped attempting to slow her down hours ago. Apparently the dark mare does not wish to adapt her speed, even though you asked nicely a couple of times. Of course you could have made your point, but the argument, that would probably carry on for days, is not worth it. Where the little horse gets the energy to keep this up, you have no idea, but you are glad she’s a forward-thinker. Dragging a horse up this God forsaken mountain wouldn’t actually be a pleasure either.
I had a dream last night where sheep could talk but they could only say ‘hello!’ like the seagulls in finding nemo & they could only speak if you said it first (bc they’re.. sheep haha) and I spent ages kneeling outside a sheep shed just saying hello to them and hearing it back and I really think that’s the closest any human has ever gotten to peace
1/11 Pouring today. Everyone is sulking under cover.
The sheep were soggy sponges cowering in their shed, along with some bats taking shelter from the rain. Also a large dish of sheep mineral supplement, which is mostly iron oxide, also called “red ochre,” used by cavemen and Renaissance painters to make things Very Red. I mention the large dish of blood red dye that happened to be in the sheep shed for no reason whatsoever.
The Small Grey Lump That Goes Meow decided he fancied a bite of bat, so he ran from under the barn, through the pouring rain, into the sheep shed to try and catch one. He spent a while crouching and waving his paws in the air before realizing the bats were two meters off the ground.
I don’t know if the Small Grey Lump was trying to climb Gracie the Sheep, or if he just leaped and crashed into her, but she was very startled. Gracie (who seems to have been grown in a laboratory operated by the Council for the Promotion of Stereotypes About Sheep Intelligence) reacted by running headfirst into the nearest wall. The soaking-wet Small Grey Lump That Goes Meow fell into the dish of sheep mineral.
And that’s why it looks like a band of deranged cultists has been drawing The Enigmatic And Occult Sign Of The Cat Butt in blood all over everything today.
(The RSPCA is now fundraising to support this and other projects.)
Which led me to ask - how did it come to this? Why don’t these sheep just naturally lose their wool?
Turns out the ancestors of domesticated sheep had long coarse fur and a downy undercoat. Humans bred them so they’d grow lots of that downy undercoat - wool. And we selected for sheep that wouldn’t shed so we could collect their wool for ourselves (though wild sheep and sheep raised for meat still can shed). But sheep don’t particularly like getting haircuts, so if they manage to avoid the shears … this is what happens.
I know of love and thunder
Of sweet things and anger
I know of warmth and cold beds
Of promises and bad ends.
I know of you like I know of me
And I know that not everything is rose pink
And I wish I knew that you’d be gone by morning
To spare my fool heart the torment
Of knowing your lips on my lips
And your skin against my skin
And your heart beating the same symphony as mine.
And be damned you
vile creature wearing the skin of sheep
For giving me the knowledge
Of what it is to love somebody
Just to leave
As soon as the storm comes
And damn you
Because no one will ever love you like I did
And know, creature,
That I loved you most in every cold night and dark day
When you’d shed your sheep skin
And create thunder
And swear to the gods
That you didn’t love me
For I knew you
As I knew me.
Why is using wool bad? Like I thought I knew a reason before but my nan told me today that sheep need to be shaved or they will be to warm and I thought that made sense? Am I wrong in thinking that?
Vegans avoiding wool products isn’t understood by many people. Since sheep need to be shorn to remove their excess wool, people don’t really see anything wrong with the wool industry.
One simple reason vegans avoid wool is because it involves the exploitation of sheep. What most people don’t realize however, is that the wool industry also involves a lot of cruelty.
People have selectively bred our modern sheep with the thick heavy coats. About 30% of all wool used worldwide comes from Australia. The most commonly raised sheep there is the Merino. Merinos have been specifically bred to have wrinkly skin to produce more wool. Their coats are so thick that some die of heat exhaustion during hot months. Unlike wild sheep, Merinos cannot shed their fleece.
Since domesticated sheep can not shed their fleece themselves, their wool will grow longer and longer while flies lay eggs in the moist folds of their skin. The hatched maggots can eat the sheep alive.
To prevent this from happening, ranchers will perform an operation called mulesing. Without anesthesia large strips of flesh are cut of the backs of lambs and around their tails.
Other procedures performed without anesthesia include punching a hole in the ears of lambs several weeks after birth, docking their tails and castrating the males. The castrations are done when the male lambs are between 2 and 8 weeks old, with the use of a rubber ring to cut off their blood supply.
When the wool production of sheep declines, they are sold for slaughter. Millions of lambs and sheep are exported for slaughter each year. In Australia they have to travel long distances before reaching very crowded feedlots, where they are held before being loaded onto ships. Many sheep die in the holding pens.
If you would like more information, you can visit the following links:
This is what you, Former Freelancer, Agent Carolina, know:
1. In the Staff of Charon, Hargrove escape by the skin of his teeth.
2. In the Staff of Charon, your men, your friends, your family escaped with their lives by a fraction a of second.
3. In the Staff of Charon, one A.I (your brother) gave himself up to save them all because you were too late to keep that sacrifice from being necessary.
This is what you know.
You are not taking it well.
Neither is Tucker.
You find him in the training room, which is a shocker, because usually he’s only there when Wash forces him to be. The hologram system is running well, firing on all gears by the hum you can hear through the walls. He has a training holo sword in hand, good since you’ve been asking him to practice with it, and when you look up at the hologram he has programed in the system, you’re not surprised it’s the program Felix liked to train with before he shed his sheep shin to let his wolf teeth show.
Felix’s program stabs forward, the holograph sword catching Tucker in the ribs. Tucker swears, snaps his fingers and the program starts up again, fresh. Felix’s program dives forward. Tucker takes a step back. Felix lunges. Tucker barely blocks. Felix spins on his heel to run his sword through Tucker’s head. Tucker does not move in time to prevent the holograph sword from passing through his skull.
Tucker swears and snaps his fingers. The program starts up again.
“You need to take a break,” you say, because losing Epsilon has made you protective of those you have left. It’s deviation from your norm of shutting everyone out, and part of you wonders if it’s growth or the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. “You’ve been in here for hours.”
Tucker does not look at you. You wonder when you switched places, when he became the driven one and you became the one to step back and breath.
A small part of you, the part that is too observational for her own good, says that you have not switched places. Tucker has just become more jaded, cynical, pressing forward a drive he saved for more just causes.You, on the other hand, are just tired.
“Not until I hit him,” Tucker says. He swipes forward and the Felix projection jumps back. They exchange blows for a bit, Tucker’s footwork is improving, and when Felix goes for the head shot again, this time Tucker ducks. You can see the moment of victory on his face right before the projection gets him right in the stomach.
“Fuck!” He drops his training sword and the light goes out. You can hear him panting in the quiet of the room.
Tucker reaches down and picks up the training sword. He holds it tighter in his grip. It’s not a good grip for sword fighting, but you doubt he will listen to your correction.
i just saw a picture of a sheep and it reminded me of when we used to have sheep at my countryside and one of the lambs was born on valentine’s day so we named her valentina, but unfortunately her mother stepped on her leg right after she was born so she only had three fully functioning legs for the rest of her life. she did not live too long for a sheep, but she did have the time to grow up, and she was the friendliest and loveliest sheep i have ever met. i remember the day i found out she had died, i went to the sheep shed and cried for a little and the other sheep didn’t dare to touch me that day. afterwards i went to the garden and ate sweet peas