Arm balances are a great way to find balance and build arm muscles. They are also great for practicing for inversions :) Here is my how to guide on how to do crow pose.
I would like to mention, that I’m not a yoga teacher and these steps are based off of my experience.
Step One: Start off Standing
Root your feet to the ground. It’s always good to start off with a strong foundation.
Step Two: Buddha Squat
From standing, drop down into a buddha squat. Root your feet down, make sure your back is straight and your chest is lifted. In this pose you can also use your elbows to push against your thighs to create a hip opener stretch.
Step Three: Place hands on the ground, and lean forward.
While in buddha squat set your hands on the floor and then lean forward pressing your knees gently on your upper arm. Make sure your eyes are looking forward- do not collapse your head.
Step Four: Bend arms slightly. Lean forward a little and press your knees into your arms.
Bend your arms slightly and lean forward, pressing your knees into your arms. For beginners maybe try to stay in this pose for awhile, engaging your core and finding your balance.
I should probably mention that for some people, your arms might hurt if your knees are pressing into your skin. Wear longer pants!
Step Five: Raise one leg up. Look forward, keeps eyes looking ahead, and bend your arms some more.
This step is a good step to practice before you get into the full arm balance. Raise one leg up and engage your core. Alternate your legs back and forth. Make sure you can do this step before continuing on :)
Make sure your head is not collapsed; head up and eyes looking ahead.
Step Six: Raise both legs up. Engage that core!
Taking a deep breath, raise your other leg up! Make sure your core is engaged. KEEP YOUR HEAD RAISED AND YOUR EYES FIXED FORWARD.
Yay, you are now doing crow pose :)
Wear longer pants if your knees hurt the skin on your arms.
Put a pillow in front of you if you are afraid of falling flat on your face (something I have done many times!).
Try each step out slowly. Crow pose is not an easy pose.
Arm and ab exercises can help you improve this pose better.
Have fun, and be safe when practicing this pose! Take a picture of your progress and tag me in it! I’d love to see all of your guy’s crow.
In which Derek is the grumpy neighborhood firefighter, and Stiles is a bit of a lovestruck idiot.
Stiles winces as he turns the corner, unbearably nervous like he always is whenever he drives Lydia’s car, and pulls into the fire station. He offered this morning to help her with any errands she needed, and she asked him to take her car to the fire station and have them install the car seat. Stiles had no idea this was even a thing—seriously, how hard is it to put in a car seat?—but unsurprisingly, Lydia is as fastidious about her unborn child’s safety as she is about everything else.
He parks just outside the front door, careful not to block the big bays with the two fire trucks, and wanders inside. “Hello?” he calls out. There’s a noise coming from the other side of the fire truck, so Stiles keeps walking in that direction, then nearly trips over his own two feet.
There’s a guy, crouched down as he washes the wheel well of the fire truck, and Stiles is 101 percent sure that he’s the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He’s frowning, as if he’s pissed at the task in front of him, but it only serves to show off the sharp cut of his jaw under a very nicely-shaped short beard. He’s wearing a tight short-sleeved SFFD t-shirt, which is wet in patches and very clearly showing off the muscled physique underneath.
The guy’s head jerks up at that, his eyes wide, and his gaze locks with Stiles’ for a long second before slowly drifting down the rest of his body. Stiles damn near forgets how to breathe because yep, this impossibly hot dude is most definitely checking him out.
Stiles has never believed in love at first sight, and he still doesn’t, but as of this moment he most certainly does believe in…familiarity at first sight? Cosmic connection? Just plain lust? He has no fucking clue.
But he yelps a little in surprise, then actually manages to trip over nothing, only catching himself by clutching the pillar next to him, which oh fuck, is actually the fire pole. He finally rights himself, grimacing with both arms spread for balance, and then slaps a hand over his eyes with a plaintive groan.
“Oh my god. Hi, hello, my name is Stiles. Uh, any chance we can start over and pretend that this excruciatingly embarrassing encounter didn’t happen?”
Request from @tayzamalfoy: Hey could you do an imagine where the reader is Gryffindor and Draco’s girlfriend but she’s ill and is feeling horrible so Draco looks after her and lays in bed with her until she falls asleep?? Thankyou, I love your imagines :—)
Thank youuuu! I love this request! :)
You’d woken up with the worst headache, you couldn’t see straight or stand up properly for several seconds without nearly passing out. It was a sunny Saturday and you had made plans with Draco to go to go to the Black Lake and have a picnic several weeks ago for today. You finally found the courage to scramble out of bed and throw on some clothes to go down to breakfast.
Naughty stuff: Top!Tae, Oral, clit teasing, stripping, lots of kisses, very vocal Tae, from behind, lowkey animalistic and some titty-love, a lot of grabbing and touching and some spanking. (ft. attempts to make this some-what more of a “realistic” smut + lube is your best friend.)
This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and
to a certain degree unrealistic. Please
have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.
Rating: Mature, sexual content
wasn’t often that he came home early, but today was one of those days. Much to
your delight since you’ve had the day off and been investing your time on doing
nothing for once.
any words were exchanged after he stepped inside before your lips and hands
were clinging to the other with no mercy.
people might think it’s weird but for you and Taehyung it kept the spark alive.
were always reserved for “love” time. Well, most days were along with some
spontaneity but Thursdays was an agreement. It was also a good excuse to try
new things or to simply dress a little extra for the occasion.
Title: Cliché. Pairing: Prince Adam x Reader. Words: 1,672. Rating: T (Blood, gore, guns, death). Summary: What if you took the bullet from Gaston that was meant to kill a ‘Beast’?
There were a few things that you were aware of in the moment that you found yourself in.
Firstly, Prince Adam was not a Beast, and even after years of being seen as one by himself and by those around him, he had finally realized that the only Beast was the one he was convinced he was. He was twisted into one and manipulated into that life because his father was determined to raise him without a drop of love in his heart after his mother died. You had changed that. You radiated pureness in the form that made Prince Adam stop in his tracks in wonderment. Have you really taught him that he wasn’t what he was cursed with? Have you truly taught him that there were slivers of love and adoration, those left deep inside after his mother passed? The inventible answer seemed to be an alarming yes.
He made his feelings clearly known as Adam snarled at Gaston a few moments prior to now, “I am not a Beast.” The sentence ended with Adam looking at you, as if reassuring that he wasn’t and that he wasn’t going to let himself fall back into the abyss.
Crow, aka Bakasana, is the root of all yoga arm balances and inversions. It can definitely seem scary when you first attempt to balance the weight of your body, on your hands, your face hovering just a few inches from the ground. But with practice, and the knowledge of which muscles to engage (think core), you start to lift and fly and decide that perhaps there are more arm balances in your future. Watching students stick this pose for the first time is always fun as their excitement becomes contagious. Expect to become contagiously excited, and leave feeling strong and open in and after all of my classes this weekend listed below.
Sat 11am - @sanghayogashala
Sat 4:30pm - @lucentyoga
Sun 5pm - @sanghayogashala
Micro fill? A la Routine Maintenance, Shiro's arm is troubling him again - but this time it's entirely the mice to the rescue.
Shiro scowls at his prosthetic, thoroughly fed up with it.
It’s been bothering him all morning, ever since his morning solo session against the Gladiator. He’d blocked a strike from the robot using his arm, and with some extremely bad luck, the robot’s staff had managed to catch him just beneath the connection point and right on one of the prosthethic’s panels.
At the time it hadn’t felt like much. He’d been wearing his armor, and while getting hit so close to the point where metal met flesh always stung, he’s gotten used to that brand of pain by now. He’d finished his training session, showered, and moved on with his day without thinking twice about it.
But he’d started to notice an odd rattling sound inside the prosthetic, and around the same time it had become less responsive. And as the hours pass, the sensation gets worse. He can’t flex his metal fingers very well at all, now, and the whole thing feels like it’s starting to get heavier. The remains of his right arm are starting to throb, and the whole experience is just downright uncomfortable.
He thinks something had probably been shaken loose, or gotten stuck on the inside of the prosthetic, around the point where the Gladiator had hit him. And normally this wouldn’t be too much of an issue, when safely on the ship, and not in the middle of a mission. The easiest solution would simply be to go to Hunk for maintenance, just like any time it needs serious work beyond routine cleaning and care that Shiro can’t handle himself.
Unfortunately for Shiro, Hunk is planet-side for the day, doing some major supplies shopping with Coran as he stocks their kitchen. And Pidge, the logical second choice for arm troubles, had also gone planet-side to get a few technological upgrades for her computer. Keith is still in the Castle, not particularly interested in the market crowds, but he’s no engineer. Shiro has no intention of making him help with this, even if Keith probably would in a heartbeat.
So Shiro does what he can to deal with it himself. Hunk’s shown him some of the more useful tools he can use for his prosthetic, and given him his own set to store in his room for emergencies. Using them and Hunk’s lessons, he manages to pry open the panel on the upper bicep of the prosthetic, and his probing fingers can definitely find a few loose wires, and something that feels like it’s jammed into a gear. That probably explains the lack of mobility, or maybe it interferes with the function that lets him move such a heavy piece of equipment easier. The weight of it is starting to get painful.
Unfortunately, although he’s identified the problem, fixing it is something else entirely. He struggles to plug the wires back in properly, or to remove the lose bit of metal jammed into the gear. But it’s an awkward angle, trying to reach into the back of his arm at all, much less trying to fix or replace things by feel alone. He curses, but he can’t quite manage it no matter how hard he tries.
A loud squeak at his foot makes him start, and he winces when he pinches one of his fingers in the metal panelling of the prosthetic. The blue mouse at his foot lets out an apologetic-sounding chittering noise.
“Uh. Hi,” Shiro says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you…did you need something?”
The blue mouse—Chulatt—squeaks and shakes its head ‘no.’ The yellow one, Platt, skitters up next to it and points at its mouth, then gestures to Shiro.
“I…eating?” It shakes its head. “Oh, wait, I didn’t eat.” He glances at the clock—it’s past lunch time. “Yeah, I’ve uh…I’ve been a little distracted.”
The red and green mice have managed to crawl up on his bed to sit next to him, and stare at the arm balanced carefully in his lap. The red one, Chuchule, points at the arm and then gestures at his shoulder, before demonstrating with few massaging motions on Plachu next to him.
“No, I don’t need that right now—well. Maybe later, but now it’d be sort of pointless.” Shiro shrugs one shoulder awkwardly. “I’ll just have to wait until Hunk and the others get back, I guess. This thing’s a pain to lug around when it’s not working.”
The mice exchange glances, and then as one swarm up his torso, darting across his lap or shoulders to the prosthetic.
“Wait, no!” Shiro hisses in alarm. Letting them help with massage therapy is one thing—he doesn’t want to explain to Allura why one of her precious mice has gotten fried or cut up or who only knows what else because it was trying to fix something only a trained engineer should be working on.
He tries to cover the gaping open hole in the prosthetic with his free hand, but the mice are nimble and quick. The blue one has already slipped inside, tail whipping through Shiro’s fingers, before he can stop him. Shiro curses. “Get out here right now!”
The mouse doesn’t listen. Which just figures, really.
Platt crawls up on his shoulder and pats his neck in what Shiro assumes is supposed to be a reassuring way, as Chuchule and Plachu shove his fingers aside and also crawl into the prosthetic’s interior. Shiro scowls, but there’s really nothing he can do to get them out at this point. If he sticks his fingers in there to try and drag any of them out, he’s afraid he could shove them into other components that could get them hurt or killed. He’s still not sure how he’s supposed to explain this to Allura, or anybody else, for that matter.
There’s a sudden loud buzzing noise and a snap, not unlike a little crackle of electricity, and the whole prosthetic seems to jerk for a moment. Then it settles, and to Shiro’s surprise, he finds he has a little more mobility in his fingers. A second buzz-snap and another sharp twitching motion, and his whole wrist flexes much better than before. He stares incredulously.
Chulatt and Platt both crawl out of the interior of the arm, and Plachu sticks its head out and waves its tiny paws to Platt. The largest mouse bounds down to the opening in the arm, and its back half sticks out of the paneling as it shoves its head and front paws inside. There are several loud squeaks, and Platt’s tail wiggles back and forth as it seem to tug at something. Then there’s a sudden grinding noise, and the mouse snaps backward, falling out of the prosthetic’s open panelling with a squeak. Shiro barely manages to catch it in his left hand, and blinks when he spots the metal shard in the mouse’s teeth. The arm, to his surprise, feels lighter again, and he realizes the mice had pulled something out of the gears to let it function again.
Plachu crawls out of the prosthetic’s interior and up Shiro’s shoulder as well, looking smugly satisfied. Shiro sets Platt down on his lap, and probes carefully inside the arm with his fingers. The loose wires that had been there earlier aren’t loose anymore, and must have been plugged back into their original ports. He’s careful not to venture too close to the whirring gears, but everything seems alright inside, as far as he can tell.
“Uh…good job,” Shiro says, impressed, as he glances at the mice arrayed around him. He carefully closes the panel, and flexes his arm experimentally again. Good as new. “Thanks.”
The mice squeak, clearly pleased with themselves. Platt has a more immediate interest, and gestures at its mouth again.
Shiro laughs. “Okay, okay! I’m guessing nobody’s fed you, if everyone but Keith is planet side. Fine, let’s go get a late lunch. But I’m warning you, it’s just going to be food goo. I can’t do anything fancy, okay?”
The mice don’t seem to mind. They crawl up onto his shoulders for a ride, and Shiro heads for the kitchen, flexing his fingers again now that he can once more. He’ll have Hunk look it over again later just to be safe, but in the meantime, this isn’t so bad at all.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the lobby, but he knew it must have been awhile. Counting the soft ticks from the clock on the other side of the room was his only way of telling how much time had actually passed.
Despite Melissa practically forcing him to eat something when Scott had bought him to the hospital earlier that morning, he hadn’t eaten all day. His stomach grumbled but he ignored it as his eyes wandered around the room.
Lydia sat across from him, whispering things to Kira every now and then. Scott sat next to him, bouncing his knee and staring at his thumbs.
He couldn’t help but feel like this was his fault. He lead the nogistune right to her and because of him, she had been in a coma for the past 10 hours completely unconscious.
your writing is amazing!! could you write Baltimore/post baltimore andreil in the daemon au pretty pls with extra chocolate on top?
There’s faith, and there’s knowing that Andrew won’t leave without
seeing Nathaniel first.
The real question will be whether Andrew pauses long enough for
Nathaniel to apologise before taking his head off. It might end up being for
the best – Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say to him anyway.
Browning’s SUV pulls up in front of a Fed-infested motel and they
bundle Nathaniel out. Jacinth is curled over his shoulders, partially obscured
with an oversized jacket and the folds at the back of his hood. The wounds on
her haunches are healing faster than any of his, but she’s not moving any more
athletically than he is right now.
“Twenty minutes,” Browning reminds them as he and his badger daemon
lead them up the stairs to the second floor. When he knocks on one of the
doors, it opens a crack to show a suited guard with a scowl on his face and a
big Alsatian daemon. He looks at Nathaniel before turning to Browning.
“I don’t like it,” he says.
“Noted. Watch him for a moment,” Browning replies, and steps by him
with a brisk clap. “Listen up, people. You’ve got twenty minutes. Let’s keep
this orderly and have only one person up at a time.”
The guard on the door lets Nathaniel straight through – into a wave
of protests from the Foxes all objecting as one to Browning’s proposal.
“Twenty minutes? You’re kidding me,” Dan snaps, before she sees
Nathaniel in the doorway, hood pulled up around his face. The shift in her
expression isn’t anger – it’s relief, pure and laced with fear. “Neil, oh my
god. Are you alright?”
Nathaniel hasn’t got the words to reply. It’s the sight of them that
does him in, bruised and exhausted but still here when he thought he would
never see them again. And as much as seeing them is a relief like every soft
thing in the world, he knows that this is a goodbye. He can’t see himself leaving out
that door without breaking into pieces.
Warning: smut (obviously), public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, insecurity
A/N: I’m sure this is a new level of sin. Like, never did I imagine I’d be writing smut about a Disney character…
Being a relationship with Gaston had its ups and downs. Ups: he showered you with gifts, compliments, and love. Downs: other women would always talk down on you for not being good enough for him.
“She’s too plain and simple.”
“She probably doesn’t even satisfy him in bed.”
“I don’t understand how he can be with someone like her. It’s probably out of pity.”
It really came down on you enough to change how you were around Gaston. He noticed immediately your endless excuses to not see him. He noticed your kisses were no longer passionate. He’d always see you turn and walk away from him once you spotted him. He wanted to know what was going on.
“Y/N, love, may I please come in?” He heard nothing coming from the other side. He knocked on your door again, “Y/N, I know you’re home. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
On the other side, you couldn’t help the tears that freely flowed from your eyes. You opened your door a little and peeked out the door, “What do you want, Gaston?” Your voice cracked and Gaston’s heart broke.
He pushed the door open and strode in, you stumbled back. He stepped closer to you and heald your face in his hands, “What’s wrong, my love? Who hurt you?”
“I think we should break this off.” You mumbled avoiding his eyes.
Gaston looked at you confused, “Why? Do you not love me?”
“I do, bu-”
“Did someone say something to you?”
You gulped and nodded, “Not someone. Some people. Not directly, but they say things loud enough for me to hear.”
Gaston pulled you to your kitchen table and pulled out a chair. You sat down and he sat in front of you, holding your hands, “What have people said? Who? Tell me their names and I’ll deal with them.”
“Please, Gaston. I don’t want to start any trouble.”
“Y/N, trouble started immediately when people began to speak ill of you. So tell me, what did those people say?”
You sighed, “They say I’m not good enough for you. That I’m not beautiful enough. That I’m plain. That I don’t satisfy your needs.”
“Lies. All lies!” Gaston and stood up and began to pace arund your kitchen, “They dare speak of you as if they know you? As if they know us?”
“They don’t know what they’re talking about. The villagers, they talk because they’re jealous. They are all well aware of your beauty, your worth. They’re all jealous because they can’t have me or you.” Gaston sat back down looking into your eyes, “Y/N, I love you wholeheartedly. Your beauty sweeps me off my feet. Your laugh sends butterflies in my stomach. And when we lay together, I feel like I’m in Heaven. You exceed my satisfactions.” Gaston immediately stood up and pulled you to your feet, “Come.” He pulled you out your door and shut it.
“Where are we going?” You asked briskly walking to keep up with Gaston’s stride.
“The tavern. I’m going to show everyone that you’re enough and more for me.”
You two made it to the tavern. The door slammed loud and hard and everyone stopped their drinking and laughing. There wasn’t much people as usual. Probably 20-25 people. That amount would do.
Gaston walked with you to his side, “Carry on.” He said and everyone did. Gaston strode to his claimed chair and sat down. He pulled you down so you were straddling him. He brought your lips to his. He roughly kissed you. His hands travelled from your neck to your hips to your behind. He gave your ass a squeeze and you moaned into his lips. He pulled away, “I believe you once told me that you liked the idea of people watching as we made love.”
Your eyes widened, “Gaston, I-”
“Do you trust me?” You nodded, “Just focus on me. Okay, love?”
“O-Okay.” You keaned forward and continued to kiss him. You began to geind and rock over Gaston’s clothed erection. Gaston pulled away and began to kiss and nibble your neck. His eyes open as he looked around to see people watching you two. He smirked. He lifted your dress skirt revealing your clothed ass. He kneaded the flesh then gave a rough slap causing you to moan.
Gaston then stood and carried you by your thighs. He set you on the table, “Lay back, love.” You did so and Gaston sunk to his knees. He hitched your dress skirt up again. Your legs dangled off the edge of the table. He pulled down your underwear and spread your legs. Gaston looked to see that everyone was watching him. He dove forward capturing your pussy lips with his.
Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick you up and down, “Oh, Gaston.”
Gaston smirked to himself, “That’s it, ket everyone hear who loves you. Who adores you.”
Gaston slowly inserted two fingers into your wet core. You shut your eyes and your nails dug into the wooden table, “Mmmm yes, Gaston!”
Gaston pumped his fingers into your quick as his other hand made quick circles around your hardened nub. Gaston looked to his right to see the Bimbettes staring in horror. Serves them right. They probably contributed to you getting hurt.
Gaston could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. He immediately pulled out and you whined. He smirked, “Don’t want you cumming without me in you, love.” He quickly unbuckled his pants and slid them down. He ran his hardened length along your slit collecting your juices.
“My love, please.” You pleaded.
Gaston nodded and slowly entered you. His head fell back and your back arched, “You always feel so good, Y/N.” He began to thrust into you desperately. He began to unlace your corset to reveal your breasts. He bent over and began to suck at your breast.
“Yes, right there, Gaston!”
Gaston let go of you nipple with a ‘pop’, “You like me taking you in front of all these people, Y/N? Do you love everyone knowing who you belong to?”
“Yes! I belong to you, Gaston!”
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. My love. I love you. I’m yours and yours only.” He began to thrust into you harder. You fekt his balls hitting against your ass. The wood table creaking underneath you, “No one else can have you. You’re mine!”
You gripped onto Gaston’s arms as he balanced himself onto the table, “Yes! I’m yours! All yours!”
Gaston grunted as he began to slow his thrusts thus signalling that he was ready to cum. He began to thumb over you clit fast and hard. You pulled him by the shirt and captured his lips moaning as your walls tightened against him, cumming hard. Gaston groaned and his hips stilled. He pulled up and came all over your dress skirt.
He pulled your skirt down and pulled his pants up. He wiped the sweat off his head and face, “I hope you all took this as a message: Y/N has my heart and body. And I have hers. You speak ill of her or our relationship, I will not hesitate to make your life here Hell. Is that understood?” The men and women in the tavern all nodded.
Gaston scooped your tired form into his arms, “Time to go home, love.” He kissed your head and you smiled. Being with Gaston definitely had its perks.
(A/n): Lmao if I had something intelligent to say I’d put it here
Hey hey! Firstly, your writing is amazing! I love your fics so much and I’m jealous of your talent. Secondly, can i ask for a story involving jacksepticeye x reader? Where they have a lazy day after a hard week and not being able to see each other?
Warnings: I believe there is swearing???
Saying you didn’t love your job would be a complete lie. You do; you do love your job. Like, more than life. But at times, it was both physically and emotionally demanding.
Being a (genre) youtuber was ninety percent hilarity smudged with experience and ten percent taxing. Though, you would never complain. If you didn’t have your youtube career, you also wouldn’t have half your cronies, humour, or your beloved boyfriend.
At times like this, you felt yourself submerged in that ten percent.
It’s been exactly nine days, fourteen hours and thirty six minutes. You hated yourself for consciously keeping track of the technical numbers. It was a disruptive habit of yours; a habit that would bleed through every time you were nervous, compressed, or antsy.
“I wrote the lyrics in Chicago. I was with my dad, and we were listening to the old music where they’d always say ‘sugar’ and ‘honey’ - stuff like that. I was like, ‘Why doesn’t anyone do that anymore?’ - Pete Wentz
“Smells delightful, sugar.”
The soulful scent of fresh herbs wafts through your kitchen, slices of potatoes marinating in a sizzling pan. Warm pieces of bread are sandwiched in their slots on the counter, the slow timer ticking its soft metronome. The early morning earthly smell of coffee follow its course through a dilapidated kitchen window , its weary hinges rusty with age. You smile when you realise its none of these scents he’s referring to, his nose buried deep in the skin of your exposed neck.
“Luke…” You warn, feeling his mouth leave wet kisses in a string to your collarbone, the soft press of his hands lifting up his knee-length shirt you’d grown so accustomed to wearing in bed.
Luke merely hums in response, licking his way back up to your waiting mouth, your head tilted at an odd angle to meet his eager lips.
“Luke…” You warn again as his tongue pushes past and bumps sloppily with your own, his sporadic moans as sweet and filling as spoonfuls of honey. His hands inch higher this time, nimble fingers prancing excitedly along the lace of your underwear, your thighs pricked with bumps from the cold feel of his palms. “Isabelle is bound to walk in.”
“Nonsense.” He purrs, slipping a finger inside and running it teasingly over the length of your folds. His voice is nothing but rushes of air, silent whispers of lust against your skin. “No offence sweetheart, but based from what I’m feeling, I don’t think you seem to care.”