brutaliful

Care generazioni future

Penso di parlare per tutti quando dico mi dispiace, mi dispiace se vi abbiamo lasciato il nostro incasinato pianeta.

Mi dispiace se eravamo troppo presi nei nostri impegni, per fare qualcosa.

Mi dispiace se abbiamo ascoltato chi si scusava per fare nulla. Spero che ci perdonerete.

Non abbiamo capito quanto la nostra Terra fosse speciale, come quando un matrimonio va male, non sapevamo ciò che avevamo finché non lo abbiamo perso.

Per esempio, provo ad indovinare, probabilmente sapere cos’è il Deserto Dell’Amazzonia, giusto?

Che ci crediate o no una volta era chiamato Foresto Pluviale Dell’Amazzonia, e lì c’erano miliardi di alberi, ed ognuno di loro era meraviglioso e..

Oh, non sapete molto di alberi, vero?

Lasciate che vi dica che gli alberi sono straordinari, intendo, noi respiriamo l’aria che loro producono, purificano il nostro inquinamento, il nostro carbonio, immagazzinano e purificano l’acqua, ci danno le medicine che curano le nostre malattie, il cibo che ci nutre.

Ecco perché mi dispiace tanto dirvi che li abbiamo bruciati tutti, li abbiamo tagliati con le brutali macchine al ritmo di quaranta campi da calcio al minuto e che il 50% di tutti gli alberi al mondo è ormai andato negli ultimi cento anni.

Perché? Per i soldi.

E la cosa che mi rende ancora più triste è che su molte banconote ci sono tante immagini di foglie.

Quando ero ancora bambino, sapete, ho letto che i nativi americani avevano così tanta considerazione per questo pianeta da sentirsi responsabili per come avrebbero lasciato la loro terra alle prossime 7 generazioni e per questo mi addolora molto perché la maggior parte di noi, oggi non riesce a preoccuparsi nemmeno di ciò che accadrà domani.

Mi dispiace, mi dispiace che conti più il profitto delle persone, che conti più l’avidità che i bisogni, guadagnare bene piuttosto che fare le cose per bene, mi dispiace che abbiamo usato la natura come una carta di credito senza alcun limite di spesa, mi dispiace di aver portato gli animali all’estinzione rubandovi l’occasione di poter vedere quando fossero unici e di diventare amici con loro.

Mi dispiace di aver inquinato l’oceano, così tanto da non poterci più nuotare.

Ma più di ogni altra cosa, mi dispiace per il nostro modo di pensare, perché abbiamo avuto il coraggio di chiamare questa distruzione “progresso”.

Hei, voi media, se non credete che il cambiamento climatico sia una minaccia, vi sfido a intervistare migliaia di senza tetto in Bangladesh e guardate come le loro case sono state letteralmente spazzate via, sotto i loro piedi mentre eravate nel vostro attico firmato Nessel.

E Sara Palin, hai detto che ti piace l’odore di combustibili fossili, bene, ti esorto a parlare con i ragazzi di Pechino che sono costretti a indossare le maschere antiinquinamento solo per andare a scuola. Sai, tu puoi ignorare tutto questo, ma la verità la puoi solo negare, ma non la puoi evitare.

E mi dispiace generazioni future, mi dispiace che le nostre impronte siamo voragini e non giardini, mi dispiace che prestiamo tanta attenzione all’ISIS e così poca cosa al ghiaccio che si sta sciogliendo velocemente nell’Artico. Mi dispiace che vi abbiamo condannato e che non abbiamo trovato un altro pianeta in tempo dove trasferirci…

Mi dispia… Sai una cosa? Basta.

Non mi dispiace, perché questo futuro non lo accetto, perché uno sbaglio non diventa un errore finché non ti rifiuti di correggerlo, tutto questo possiamo capovolgerlo a nostro favore. Come? Mi permetto di suggerire che, come un agricoltore vede un albero che è sano, non dai suoi rami ma dalle sue radici. Noi, come contadini, dobbiamo guardare alle radici, non ai rami del governo, non ai politici che lavorano per le corporation, siamo noi le radici, noi le fondamenta, questa generazione, spetta a noi prenderci cura di questo pianeta, è la nostra unica casa, dobbiamo riscaldare globalmente i nostri cuori e cambiare il clima delle nostre anime, capire che non siamo qualcosa di distinto dalla natura, siamo una parte di essa e tradire la natura, è come tradire noi stessi, salvare la natura è salvare noi stessi, perché qualunque cosa per cui tu stia combattendo, razzismo o povertà, femminismo o diritti degli omosessuali, per qualsiasi tipo equità, non è davvero importante, in fin dei conti, perché se non lavoriamo tutti insieme per salvare l’ambiente, alla fine saremo tutti estinti…

Quindi mi dispiace…

Ho sempre voluto ribellarmi fin da piccola. Da quando giocavo a calcio con i bambini. Ero l'unica bambina tra di loro.
Da piccoli riusciamo ad accettare chiunque come nostro amico, come nostro compagno di gioco. Non ti importa se c'è un bambino di colore a giocare a calcio con te, non ti importa se c'è un bambino che non vede bene in porta e non ti importa niente se avevi come calciatore una bambina cazzuta che andava a segno ogni volta che poteva.
Crescendo cosa cambia in noi? Cosa ci rende così brutali tanto da non accettare chi vogliamo bene?
Io ancora non lo so, forse devo crescere ancora un po’ per capire questo mondo di persone che mi rende strana ai loro occhi.
—  ognidestinosipuocambiare
12 agosto 1944

SANT'ANNA DI STAZZEMA

“…Io ci penso sempre. Anche stanotte scappavo. Da che cosa? Dai tedeschi”. Adele Pardini ha 75 anni, ma quando scende il buio, torna ad averne quattro. Torna a Sant'Anna di Stazzema, il 12 agosto 1944. “Ci presero. Avevano una retina nera sul viso, tutti e tre. Ci misero al muro con altri. Nel cadere sotto i colpi delle mitragliatrici, la mamma aprì una porta. Mi ci infilai dentro e mi salvai. Per fuggire, dopo, dovetti camminare sul suo corpo. Si salvò anche mio cugino, Ilio Pardini, che da quel giorno divenne cieco per lo spavento. A mio zio Emilio Battistini i tedeschi fecero portare le munizioni. Ma quando sentì la sparatoria venire da dove aveva moglie e figli, si fece uccidere. Il mio babbo non ne ha più parlato, ma per tutta la vita ogni tanto si metteva a piangere e diceva: “Che avranno fatto di male?”.

Per non dimenticare, gli orrori di una guerra, di tutte le guerre.
A Sant’Anna di Stazzema, la mattina del 12 agosto 1944, si consumò uno dei più atroci crimini commessi ai danni delle popolazioni civili nel secondo dopoguerra in Italia.
La furia omicida dei nazi-fascisti si abbattè, improvvisa e implacabile, su tutto e su tutti. Nel giro di poche ore, nei borghi del piccolo paese, alla Vaccareccia, alle Case, al Moco, al Pero, ai Coletti, centinaia e centinaia di corpi rimasero a terra, senza vita, trucidati, bruciati, straziati.
Quel mattino di agosto a Sant’Anna uccisero i nonni, le madri, uccisero i figli e i nipoti. Uccisero i paesani ed uccisero gli sfollati, i tanti saliti, quassù, in cerca di un rifugio dalla guerra. Uccisero Anna, l’ultima nata nel paese di appena 20 giorni, uccisero Evelina, che quel mattino aveva le doglie del parto, uccisero Genny, la giovane madre che, prima di morire, per difendere il suo piccolo Mario, scagliò il suo zoccolo in faccia al nazista che stava per spararle, uccisero il prete Innocenzo, che implorava i soldati nazisti perché risparmiassero la sua gente, uccisero gli otto fratellini Tucci, con la loro mamma. 560 ne uccisero, senza pietà in preda ad una cieca furia omicida. Indifesi, senza responsabilità, senza colpe. E poi il fuoco, a distruggere i corpi, le case, le stalle, gli animali, le masserizie. A Sant’Anna, quel giorno, uccisero l’umanità intera.
La strage di Sant’Anna di Stazzema desta ancora oggi un senso di sgomento e di profonda desolazione civile e morale, poiché rappresenta una delle pagine più brutali della barbarie nazifascista, il cancro che aveva colpito l’Europa e che devastò i valori della democrazia e della tolleranza. Rappresentò un odioso oltraggio compiuto ai danni della dignità umana. Quel giorno l’uomo decise di negare se stesso, di rinunciare alla difesa ed al rispetto della persona e dei diritti in essa radicati.

Le mie notti da suicidio sono più brutali di un omicidio
per capirmi non servono seghe mentali
basta semplicemente aprire la mente
e guardarmi dentro ma tanto parlo inutilmente perché la gente
non capisce niente
—  jokerinmyhead
Imagine Ivar being the one who wants to take over your kingdom (part 3)

Part Ihttp://lordavanti.tumblr.com/post/157144945223/imagine-ivar-being-the-one-who-wants-to-take-over
Part IIhttp://lordavanti.tumblr.com/post/157202649578/imagine-ivar-being-the-one-who-wants-to-take-over

Summary: Ivar get supriced by an attack from your father in the middle of the night. He thinks, in all his anger, that you were behind it and punish you for it. Afterwards he feels so bad about it he brings you back home.
Notes: Violence
Words: 1948


You sat against your pole again, to stubborn to give in with Ivar his suggestion to lay in the bed … again. But just like last night this night wasn’t any better. You still felt the cold lingering on your skin and you wished you didn’t be so stubborn all the time. You were staring until some weird noice maked you a little more alert. Ivar was still sleeping and even outside was it almost completly silence. You walked to the exit of the tent and looked outside. You heard a yell and saw a horse ran by … a horse from your fahter his cavalry. They where here to rescue you? Your gaze fell on Ivar before you looked back outside, saw some tent catching fire. This was your moment, you could run like hell, get yourself back in safety. But there was Ivar and you didn’t want him to die on you fathers sword. “I’m gonna regret this.” You wispered to yourself while running towards Ivar. “Ivar!” You brutaly shook his shoulder and before you even knew it he had a knife against your throat. He startled and pulled it away quickly. “Your are under attack by my father.” You explained. It took him five seconds to process this information. In those five seconds you saw his anger flame up in his deep bleu eyes.
“Stay here.” He commanded you.
“Can’t I come?”
“They want you, I’m not gonna put you in danger, stay here.” And just as he said that there came a soldier of your fahter in the tent. It took Ivar hardly two seconds to grab his axe and trow it in the soldier his chest. You yelled and putted your hand before your mouth. “I mean it y/n, stay here.” And he crawled out. You stared at the dead body and just waited there while the noice of a fight outside grew stronger.

It went on for minutes, almost hours until there was a little more peace again. You didn’t move, you just sat on the egde of the bed and looked to the exit. What if someone came in to grab you? You hadn’t anything with you to defense yourself … why would you defense yourself in the first place? If it were the soldiers of your father you could go home again, if it were Ivar his men than they wouldn’t hurt you. So, there was no defense needed. You said to him to stay put but after all that horrible waiting you walked outside only to see his men running, making themselves ready for battle. “Where is Ivar?” You asked to no one in peticular. One of his men stood still, looking at you as if he was planning to use his axe any moment.
“Don’t think you wanna see him now.” He barked. But he pointed you in the right direction. While you walked through his men you saw that some of them were covered in blood. And when you saw Ivar his chariot you walked a little faster only to see a handfull soldiers from your father dead on the ground. Ivar looked at them, his face covered in blood but he didn’t noticed you.
“Get her.” He commanded coldly. Your body reacted with goosebumps on your arms and a shivering down your spine. The viking on the left of his chariot turned around to see you standing. He walked over at you, with that grinn on his face that promissed nothing good. He grabbed you with your hair and just pulled you towards Ivar. A little yell in pain left your lips before he forced you in the mud just behind the chariot of Ivar. You were afraid to look up, but you did, slowly and met those bleu eyes of Ivar. “What did you tell them Y/n?” He asked  quietly, to quietly for your taste.
“Nothing.” You just stared back at him, tried not to be scared by the way he held his axe in his hand.
“They knew everything what there was to know about this camp,” he felt silent, came from the seat on the chariot and sat on the egde of it right in front of you. “WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM!” He yelled. You startled and looked down to the mud.
“Nothing.” You repeated yourself. And that was just what he couldn’t understand. He grabbed you with your upperarm, squeezed so hard that it hurts and brought the tears on your cheeks.
“Rope.” He gestured to his men. They gave him rope and he makes a loop of it and pulled it over your head so it was around your neck. “I don’t believe a word you say Y/n.”
“Please Ivar, I beg you, I will do everything you ask.” You cried. He turned you around, so you could face him again.
“What? Didn’t expect that I was that cruel?” He asked you before getting up to his seat again. He wrapped the rope around his seat and looked over his shoulder towards you.
“Don’t.” You wispered. This wasn’t the Ivar from yesterday, it was like a monster took over everything inside him. He clicked his tong and the horse moved forward. Hardly seconds later you felt the rope tighten and pulling you down to the ground before it dragged you behind his chariot. This wasn’t the way to die, right?

You couldn’t stop crying, more sobbing really. The tears dried out after he pulled you halfway through the forest. Your thoath burned, your face covered with scratches and your body stiff and cold, wet from all the mud and dirt that got through your dress. Since he was stopped, in the middle of nowhere you didn’t moved. You laid there, curled up, your cross in your hand while you tried to pray for your life. But after a couple of minutes you tried to take notice of your surrounding. Your head shook in fear when you looked up to where the chariot stood. Ivar sat on the egde of it, his head barried between his hands … was he crying to? He must felt it that you were looking because he looked up, your reaction was to look away as soon as his blue eyes met yours. You wanted this man gone, you wanted to run as fast as you could but you were to afraid for the results of that. After a while he moved, he came from the chariot, crawling towards you. “Please, no.” You backed away but the rope prevented you from getting away from him. The friction from the rope burned your throat and you hardly dare to move again.
“Y/n, please.” He wispered. You looked at him, terrified. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. How could he say this? After what he had done? He cutted the rope and your hands immidiatly went to your throat. He looked at it, his eyes big with fear. “What have I done.” He said for himself. You saw a tear running down his cheek and you couldn’t resist the feeling to just stay there. You must look awful, a punishment for something you never did. He laid his hand over yours, pulled away your hands from before your throat and stroke his fingers over the red burning marks the rope caused.You didn’t do anything, you just sat there, looking at his face that showed pain and regret. You didn’t knew Ivar long but you knew he was a passionate person. He could let his emotions get the best of him without him even realizing what he does. He felt sorry for stabbing you in the hand, he didn’t say it in words but you could read it in his eyes. He had fallen for you but he wouldn’t admit to it. And now he did this, dragging you through the forest because of his anger. Now you knew that the story of his brother was the truth, he almost did it to you to. He pulled you closer, almost in a embrace and you just let your head rest on his shoulder. One minute … two, three before you started crying again and you tightend you gripp around his body. “I will bring you home first thing tomorrow.” He wispered and you believed him. He couldn’t bare the idea of keeping you captive any longer. You couldn’t think clearly so you let your emotions go. Let him take you back to the camp where you got his bed as he went to sit against the pole. You were so exhausted that there was nothing needed to get you to sleep.

When you opened your eyes he was still sitting against that pole, looking at you. You turned your eyes away and looked somewhere else instead. Your throat felt swallowed, your hand hurted and your head was still covered in blood and mud. “I send a rider out to your father with the message he will recive his daughter back within two hours after sunrise.” Ivar began. You turned your eyes back to him, he looked so steady, peacefull. Nothing left from  that anger, only a broken glance everytime he looked at you. You nodded but didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath and crawled towards the bed, pulled himself half up to look at you. “I can’t speak my actions right, I only hope that by letting you go you understand how much I’m sorry for what I did.” He wispered. His fingers stroke your forehead and you closed your eyes, letting a tear roll back over your face. “I would do anything for you my princess, even letting you go.” He followed before crawling out and leaving you with the heartbreak of this situation.

Their was a woman in the camp who gave you a new dress and cleaned you up in the ways she could. The cloak covered the damage of your throat but your face and hand were still visable for everone to see. You ride in Ivar his chariot, with five more men to the pre-arranged place. It was pouring rain and maked the situation more dreadful than it already was. Ivar let his horse stop and watched to the ten men full in armor who came towards all of you. You recognized your brother among them, your father wasn’t even there and it maked you angry. Ivar looked at you for a moment, searching your face for a reaction. “Give my sister back.” Your brother yelled. Ivar nodded and looked at you again. You only looked at your brother and  the ten men he had with him.
“He will attack you Ivar, as soon as I am home again.” You wispered with a soar voice.
“We will be prepared.” He nodded slowly.
“You’re outnumbered.” You said while getting of the chariot.
“If he is willing to fight for his daughter so be it, I’m willing to fight to make my wrongs right.” He answered. You bited your lip and looked at him, you pulled the little cross over you head and gave it to him.
“Remember what happened, don’t let it come so far again, for your own sanity.”
“I’ll remember you princess.” He smiled a little but it wasn’t a real smile. You give him a last look before you walked over to your brother who got from his horse to embrace you. But when he saw your face his eyes rolled right back at Ivar.
“I will punish him for this sister.” He wispered in anger.
“Just bring me home.” You replied. He pulled you behind him on his horse. You looked a last time at Ivar and felt his eyes all the way in your back until you dissapeared on the horizon …

Dramatic end or a part 4?

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The Felmancer’s Apprentice: Letter to Aestus Battlevalour

From here

A folded letter sent with several sketches of a familiar pug to @shampoocommercialelves 



Aestus,

Brutalis misses you. When someone came to the door today he got super excited and did that weird thing where he’s trying to backflip and go in circles at the same time. Every other time he mostly sleeps even when the alarms are going off.

He likes to pee everywhere. It’s like half of him just holds pee in so he can pee where all the other animals pee. We spent a half hour walking and that’s how much he peed.

I tried to sketch him for you but his face always looks so funny. Not much is happening here. Alex seems sad. Pop’s bedroom looks empty without Pop in it and sometimes he just looks distant.

One of the shopkeepers mentioned trouble at the borders. I hope you’re ok. It’s the same here. Mostly boring though.

Come back soon. Brutalis misses you. 

Samiel

Imagine Ubbe protecting you from your father (part 3)

Summary: Aslaug let her men wake you in the middle of the night. Except for Sigurd there is nobody present when she punish you for getting involved with Ubbe. Dead would be kinder … but sending you away broke you entirely.
Words: 1680


It went all so fast, the one moment you were sleeping, the next someone brutaly got you out of your sleep. ‘Y/N, Aslaug wants to see you.’ A viking warrior said, not giving you the change to get proparly dressed, not even the change to get fully awake in the first place. But you knew what this meant, it meant that somebody told Aslaug what your father did to Ubbe and just like you suspected you got torn up in it. But why by all the gods in the middle of the night? The viking pulled you out of the house, you didn’t wore shoes, on naked feet you followed him throught the mud. Your father left you the night earlier, to drink again so the fact that he wasn’t with you know suggested that he was still doing that. When you came in front of the great hall you saw Sigurd standing against the door, he gave you a sharp look, somewhere a grinn of mockery dragging behind that look. You looked inside, to your father sitting on his knees between two other men. They dragged you in, the mud left prints on the wooden floor while you walked in. Your hair was a mess, the cold wind slipped  through your nightdress, making you shiver before they pushed you down aside your father. You looked to him, angry before you looked up to Aslaug who sat in her trone. Ubbe was nowhere to be found, Hvitserk neither, even Ivar wasn’t present. Only she and Sigurd. What meant he had told her … what meant that this visit here meant no good if it was in the middle of the night. Ubbe wouldn’t know, Hvitserk wouldn’t know and you grew scared for the things that could happen in the next few minutes.

Aslaug held the tension in the air. You looked aside to your father who looked rather unintrested, he was still drunk, you bet he didn’t even know why he was here. ‘Do you know why you are here?’ It was like she readed your mind. You looked up to Aslaug and nodded. But she wasn’t looking to you, her sharp eyes rested on you father and he only grunted like a pig. ‘My son could have died.’ Aslaug began. You wouldn’t leave Ubbe if he was deadly injured, but the fact that none of his brothers panicked in the moment reassured you that he would just be alright. ‘I told you to stay away from him.’ She pointed her attention to you. You looked up and nodded slowly.
‘I know.’
‘Why do you disobay your queen?’ She asked you. You saw Sigurd walk in the corner of your eyes, observing you intensly while he went to stood aside his mother.
‘Because I love him.’ It was already looking bad, you honesty wouldn’t make it worser. Aslaug started laughing, looking aside to Sigurd who had a little grinn over his lips. Even your father started laughing with them, leaving you with the most uncomfortable feeling ever.
‘Do you now how much woman Ubbe pleased before you?’ She asked, her fingers rested on her lips to supress another smile. ‘Why do you think he loves you?’ He wanted to marry you, that had to count for something, right? But you didn’t say that, you looked to the ground and focust on a spot in the wooden floor, not letting her words get impact on your personality. ‘You mean nothing to him. You’re just another girl crossing his path.’ She said with some of a satisficing breath out. Her words touthed your incertainty. You still looked to that spot on the floor, trying not to let her in but failed. You felt something break in your heart. She was right, he had already so much woman, why would you be any different. You swallowed the knot in your throat and looked slowly back up to her, eyes blurry with tears.
‘What do you want me to say?’ You asked her softly. She pressed her lips together in a ferm line, looking to your father for a moment.
‘I banish you out of Kattegat. If you set foot here again I will kill you. If you come in contact with my sons again, I will kill you. You have until daylight, if you are both still here by then I will kill you.’ Aslaug laid the rules out. She wouldn’t kill you … yet. That was mercy in your eyes and you had to take it. If you would protest she would kill you. So you nodded and she smiled, a conquering smile, a satisfying one. You didn’t say another word, tears ran from your face when you walked out with your father again. Her men stayed to make sure you would leave and you did. With hardly anything with you and a drunk father. The only true memory you had was the mark Ubbe left on your throat, and even  that would fade in days. You touthed it, crying, while you walked in front of your father, looking for a new place to stay.

Weeks passed since than. Not living in a town again maked your father crazy. He was sometimes days away from the farm you stayed on. It wasn’t that you mind, you were rather rid of him than to tolerate him around you. The farm was far uphigh north, it was colder, leaving you often alone shivering. But the most unbearable thing was the fact you had nothing. No people to talk to, no farm around. Expect for a goat and some chickens you had nothing. You were alone and you became distant. The sadness never leaved you. You thought if days would pass, weeks, that you would feel better but it never did. When you gazed over the mountains you tried to think about Kattegat, about Ubbe but nothing maked it any better. The only thing you did was keeping yourself and your father alive. It was hardly something. You went to the town on a days ride once a week to trade but even with the small things you could trade it wasn’t enough to survive. You father wanted you to trade to man for silver or an extra goat, but everytime he got further with the idea you served him ale, enough to make him drunk enough to forget it. Maybe you should leave him, go somewhere else on your own. You were punished by his mistake, and it left a black hole behind.

It was somewhere more than two month now, you were glad with the little sun there was while you tried to dry the clothes you washed earlier. You clipped them on a line you maked between the farm and the nearest tree when you heared hoovesteps. ‘I don’t have,’ You turned around and frooze in your movements.
‘Y/n.’
‘What are you doing here Ubbe?’ You panicked, knowing the warning Aslaug send when you contacted one of her sons. He jumped from his horse, looking at your messy hair, slim build from the shortage of food, you were a mess and it was pretty obvious.
‘I looked weeks for you.’ He began, coming closer after he tied his horse to a fense.
‘You can’t be here, please go back.’ You stepped back, hitting the wall of the house in fear, holding on to the dress you were just planning to hang and dry. You didn’t wanted to die, you weren’t that good a viking to embrace it. But he stayed put, standing there and watching you. You missed his face, you missed every bit of him since the day you left.
‘My mother died, there is nothing stopping me from bringing you back home.’ He announched. Aslaug died? Some kind of pain messed with his beautifull eyes in those words. But you didn’t walked over to him, still to scared that his words maybe weren’t true. In all that time you tried to contain your sadness, the loss, the heartbreak, your love for him. You couldn’t get him bring you back to that so easily. ‘Lagertha killed her, she is queen now. Hvitserk and Ivar are away and I hate Sigurd for what he did. You can come home again,’ he tried to explain.
‘She said you didn’t love me, that I was just some of your other girls.’ You began, thinking back of those poisonous words. Ubbe looked away from a moment, almost stunned that you said that after all the both of you went througt.
‘She doesn’t know how I feel. You can’t let that consume you. I need you.’ And those words. The dress slipped out of your hand while you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck while the tears of happiness started running down. He wrapped his arms around you and it was the most warmest feeling you ever felt in last days.
‘I missed you so hard.’ You confessed against his neck. He pulled you back, cupping your face so you had a clear shot on his eyes, his lips, the lips you wanted to kiss again.

‘I told myself every night that I would find you, that I would bring you home. Did I miss your beautyfull face.’ He whispered before placing his lips on yours. You embraced his head and felt the salt taste of your tears in the taste of his lips. The warmth he spread to your body consumed all your other thoughts. ‘Will you come back with me?’ He asked, his forehead resting against yours. You stroke his face and nodded with a watery smile on your face. ‘Will you marry me?’ He asked.
‘Yes Ubbe, I will marry you.’ You answered, kissing him again wit hall the love you had before you embraced him tied again. ‘There is nothing I would love more.’ You whispered for yourself. He totaly got to you, he entirely embraced you with his carring passion, his loving voice, the heroric determination in his heart. He was yours, he would always be …

The End

Schiavo di una schiava

Spesso si pensa che una donna che volontariamente si “sottomette” a un'uomo, sia per un solo rapporto sessuale o un periodo prolungato di tempo, abbia dei problemi. Non sò…personali o psicologici.
Io penso che la spiegazione sia, la maggior parte delle volte molto semplice.
Da padrone se c'è una cosa che ho imparato è che l'intimità di una donna è molto diversa dalla nostra.
Spesso in un rapporto di sottomissione (anche vissuto come semplice gioco erotico occasionale) si vivono sensazioni e emozioni che non si provano in un normale rapporto. La fiducia della donna nel maschio deve essere massima. La paura iniziale si trasforma in brivido prima e eccitazione poi. E l'uomo vive la cosa con la consapevolezza di avere il corpo del partner e la sua sessualità a sua disposizione e sotto il suo controllo. Ne può fare ciò che vuole ma il rispetto per la femminilità della partner è vitale.
Spesso si vedono immagini frenetiche e brutali ma la sottomissione è molto più dolce di quel che si pensi.
Perché una donna si sottometta si deve sentire trasportata in questo percorso sensuale e sessuale.
In un rapporto di sottomissione completo la donna è “schiava” del padrone (non mi piace usare questo termine) ma il l'uomo è schiavo della sua schiava.
Nessuno può fare a meno dell'altro.

Siamo adolescenti. Alcuni di noi vogliono cambiare il mondo, si sentono forti e credono di essere in grado di combattere per una società migliore. Altri vedono ogni giorno il mondo cadergli addosso, con quella piccola realtà quotidiana che pian piano li manda sempre più giù, a terra,e credono di non farcela, sperando di sparire. E poi, diciamolo, abbiamo molti sbalzi d'umore. Ci sentiamo leoni pieni di vita pronti a conquistare il mondo e poco dopo piccole e insignificanti pecorelle braccate da un mondo che sentiamo non ci appartenga. Vogliamo essere capiti, ma quando cercano di irrompere nei nostri spazi ci sentiamo violati di qualcosa di nostro, che non può essere condiviso con qualcun altro. Guardiamo il mondo girarci intorno non riuscendo mai ad entrarci e vivere davvero. Insomma, siamo adolescenti e prima o poi al posto dei nostri sogni ci saranno delle vere realtà, brutali o migliori che siano, forse riusciremo a far parte davvero di qualcosa, ma per il momento siamo così, pieni di insicurezze, problemi e cazzate.
—  inoverdosediillusioni

anonymous asked:

I discovered Boyfriend to Death fanfiction, and holy crap it seems like 80% is Strade related. PLEASE explain to me how he's the most popular? I don't understand! Rire and Cain are kinda awesome Demonic babies yeeees, and Sano and Lawrence, SO WHY. Okay yes, I admit Strade is awfully adorable but this popular?! Oh man. XD It's the fact he's human and just totally F-ed up right? lol

Could be the human thing. Could be the friendly attitude. Personally I really dig the whole ‘I’m gonna murder you brutaly but that doesn’t mean we can’t be casual and friendly with each other‘ setup. Maybe it’s just the confidence. The friendly smile? I dunno ^^

Okay can someone please take the kink meme away from me because there are too many good prompts and I want to write them all (like this little gem)

To prevent becoming distracted or too attached to each other after their first sexual escapade, Kylo and Hux agree to only fuck on “special occasions”. What consitutes “special” is loosely defined, and becomes even more nebulous over time.  Kylo cut through a whole underground cell of Resistance? Special occasion. Budget in the black this quarter? Special occasion. Meatball day in the mess? Special fucking occasion.

Just these two trying to justify their driving need to bone each other, and the excuses becoming more transparent over time

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