nature and nothing else

Fkffkgdb Jim sexting is just too much because you know he’s such a romantic. at first he’d be straight up Song of Solomon'ing it all vivid comparative imagery and nature metaphors. And spock is like “that’s beautiful jim,” but nothing else and jim would be like tae fuck i worked hard on those Kahlil gibran references?? U KNOW WHAT and just sends straight up the raunchiest fuckendkdmdhh porno sext and five mins later Spock is busting in the room like I LEFT SOME PERSON AT THE CON I DO NOT KNOW WHO PLEASE PROCEED WITH THE ACTIONS OUTLINED IN YOUR TEXT

Power, Pt. 2

PART 1

Zeus!S.Coups | 13 DAYS OF SEVENWEEN

Word Count: 1,446

Genre: Smut


It wasn’t your typical Saturday night. But with Seungcheol, how could anything be typical?

“Do you like what you see, Princess?”

You nodded in awe, choosing to ignore his sexually-implied words, and marveled at the view in front of you. You had told him you liked the beach, but this was no ordinary beach. He had taken you to a spacious and pristine bungalow, just a few kilometers off the shore of Rosalie Bay. The sunset was beautiful, and there was nothing else in the horizon interrupting nature’s beauty. It was magnificent.

“Seungcheol… this is amazing…”

He chuckled deeply, snaking his arms around your hips and clasping his hands together, on top of your stomach. His face snuggled into the nape of your neck as he began to leave soft pecks that would lead up to your ear. 

“I’m glad you like it. I thought you would.”

Being a god and all, he had an aura that surrounded him which invited you in, causing you to let your guard down. Seungcheol hugged you closer, his eyes were close as he took in your sweet scent. Your soft skin drove him insane, he couldn’t help but to let his hands wander under your shirt. 

You didn’t even have to be afraid of getting cold as the ocean’s breeze blew against your skin, Seungcheol’s presence kept you warm.

You let out a sigh, and along with the breath that left your lips so did every worry that you have ever had. Being next to Seungcheol, all you could feel was bliss. 

He spun you around, your hands were now placed on his chest. Seungcheol guided your fingers to the buttons on his dress shirt. Your hands were slightly shaking as you loosened the buttons one by one, you spread the fabric once you were done to reveal his toned chest. Seungcheol shook the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall onto the soft sand. 

Layer by layer your own articles of clothing fell around you yet Seungcheol was standing in only his boxers. With you being completely unclothed, he took a step back. 

“You’re the most beautiful mortal I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” Lust filled his eyes, to him you were a piece of artwork that deserved to be admired. Normally, you would’ve been insecure beyond belief but there was just something about his gaze that made you feel brave.

With the snap of Seungcheol’s fingers, a large red velvet quilt was laid out with wine beside it. He took your hand in his, kissing it gently as he kept his eyes on you.

He laid you down onto the blanket, you felt the velvet hit your back. Your hair sprawled out, you looked like a perfect mess for him to unravel. One of his hands was placed beside your head to keep himself balanced, the other was tracing down your bare stomach.

You were helpless under his touch as he drew goosebumps to raise on your arms. Your senses were alerted when his hand gripped your thigh violently which was accompanied by a smirk on his angelic face. 

You were growing wet at the anticipation he was building up. Sensing this, Seungcheol whispered, “Tell me what you want, baby”. 

The lump in your throat was like a chunk of wet cement you couldn’t swallow, yet you managed to tell him, “touch me”. 

And touch you he did. His fingers wasted no time to slip inside your folds, he bit his lip as he felt your ridges and wetness. Seungcheol focused on going slow, making sure he was taking his time and to draw out your moans.

You felt every inch of his fingers, as he slipped in and out. Your eyes were shut close as pleasure washed over and caused your vision to be slightly hazy. 

Seungcheol abruptly altered his pace from slow to fast, he felt himself growing harder and harder as he watched your face contort in indulgence. 

“You like that, baby?” He growled into your ear, his fingers taking a break. He pulled them out of you and proceeded to lick them. 

Seungcheol made a sound of satisfaction, loving the way that you tasted. He kissed you afterwards. “You taste so good, don’t you think so?” He asked in a husky, low voice. 

Although you were breathing heavily, you were still utterly so breathless. As you thought he was going to go easy on you, his lips connected to your neck as he bit, and sucked until your neck was covered in purple marks. 

You couldn’t help the uncontrollable moans that were leaving your lips, to Seungcheol your moans were better than anything Mount Olympus could offer. 
The more you moaned, the harsher he was, the more teeth he used and the longer he sucked. 

Once he was done with your neck, he moved onto your thighs. His hands gripped your thighs, relishing in their beauty before he kissed the inner side of them.

Your eyes shot opened in surprise when you felt his lips hovering above your heat, his tongue licked a long stripe up the area.

His lips finally settled onto your clit, he lightly sucked as his fingers reentered you slowly.  He kept up this motion until you felt lightheaded from the painfully slow building of the pleasure. 

All you could hear was the ocean waves crashing against the shore, and the breeze added to your sensations.

You were so immersed in the moment you didn’t realize he had stopped. His eyes were dark, and full of lust. Seungcheol didn’t say anything except he just stared at you, admiring how beautiful you were under him. 

With a snap of his fingers you were transported back to what you presumed was his bedroom. You felt soft silk sheets underneath you, and the sound of the ocean was gone. Plus, the room wasn’t that well lit considering candles were the only source of light.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna be in for a treat.” Seungcheol smiled sweetly down at you. You were laying under him while he was straddling your sides. 

You had taken into account that you were both naked, and you were oh so ready for what you assumed was going to happen.

Without another word, his length had thrust into you. All power, and passion. While his dick was sliding in and out of you, he didn’t hesitate to tell you how beautiful you looked moaning his name. 

After he had you laying on your back, he quickly flipped you over so you were on all fours. Seungcheol smacked your ass, as he saw his hand print leave its mark he had only gotten harder. When he heard you yelp in shock, a smirk graced his face. 

“What do you want, baby?” He whispered seductively, as he caressed your thighs with his slightly calloused hands, and admired your backside. 

You had trouble forming your words as your mind was too preoccupied with the thought of him positioned behind you.

You felt another smack followed by him massaging the area. You whimpered out loud to which he asked you again. “What does my baby want me to do, huh?”

“Do you want another smack from daddy?” He said in a low voice that dripped with allure.

“I want you inside me.” You finally answered, your voice barely a whisper.

Without another word, you felt his thick dick slide into you from behind. His large hands were gripping the sides of your waist, pulling you into him every time he thrust forward.

You couldn’t help the moans that were escaping from your lips. But Seungcheol seemed to have gotten off from that, given that every loud sound that came out of your mouth he’d only thrust harder.

The sound of skin slapping rang through the large, marble room. You were gripping the sheets underneath you as Seungcheol continued to ram into you consistently and endlessly.

“I’m so close, baby.” Seungcheol moaned as his fingers dug even deeper into your hips.

You felt the heat building up in your stomach, even though you couldn’t form coherent words, the most beautiful sounds came out of your mouth.

He collapsed next to you after his release. You didn’t even realize that he had put on a condom, considering he was a god and all you didn’t know if he needed one or not.

Once he had taken care of the condom, he rolled over to face you. A sheepish smile was bared on his face, “Just because I’m a god doesn’t mean I don’t need to use protection too.”

You scoffed, and chuckled lightly. “Oh yeah, after that, you’ve definitely proven that you’re a god.”

Written by Admin V.K and Chorizo

10

Jaime x Brienne: Poems

I Hid My Love                                                                                              

      by John Clare

I hid my love when young till I
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where’er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye.

I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee’s song
She lay there all the summer long.

I hid my love in field and town
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o’er,
The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.

anonymous asked:

Hey can you tell me how to stop feeling like a pile of caca

Have you considered Not Caring.

Alternately, remember that you are a unique and individual pile of atoms that never has ever been arranged in this configuration thus far in the entire iteration of the whole universe. Your meaning, if nothing else, is that you are, by nature, living and unique, no matter what you do with your life.

Animal print for day 13 of the 31dc2015.

Pretty simple metallic leopard print but I’m loving it!

the base is Serendipity by Essence and the print is made with Nothing else metals by Essie.

thresh, despite himself, would say with confidence that he’s pretty content with his life, death, unlife, and the way that events have panned out. hes satisfied with the current state of affairs and is hopeful for the future.

what future? a future filled with him collecting souls to expand his power and his prison? the concept of watching mankind go on in its destructive ways around him, waging wars for him to observe and clean up? entertainment in any form at all whatsoever? he isn’t sure, but he’s certain that everything will be all right.

for him.

even while he lived, he was a jolly man entirely by nature and nothing else. he was never maniacally happy and it wasn’t influenced at all by his sadism, masochism, intense cruelty or mental condition. bad days, in all honesty, were rare for the warden.

he always smiled and laughed just because he was an optimistic and cheerful person. none of this means he was kind. none of it means he was good. he still got a kick out of the next guy’s agony and ate up drama like he’d starve without it. there are many negative things he can show and inflict on other people without needing to be miserable or full of spite himself.

I think all of my professors would agree with that post, but somehow the school ends up enforcing that ideal. I think it’s something to do with the demands of the modern job market + the university system. Many careers expect you to undeservedly devote everything to them - that’s what we value as a society. But to reject choosing a traditional career and justify instead picking music, we have to present it as unbidden, as it being our very nature to play music, that we are capable of nothing else. Anything less is seen as selfish or foolish.

Plus the way the university system ranks people, just by the nature of being graded. It’s unavoidable. Grades are nonsense in the arts, except for how they indicate you’re growing.

Of course, everyone has their foil somewhere in the world, and for Gambol, it’s his only coworker, Carlson.

Where Gambol has perfected the mindset of casual intimidation to make up for his genuinely unintimidating appearance and lifestyle, Carlson has the gaunt face and naturally piercing stare of a professional security guard, and nothing else.  Gambol keeps his mouth shut unless absolutely necessary.  Carlson can not stop talking, and all he ever talks about is Dungeons and Dragons.

Obscure campaigns.  Munchkin theorycrafting.  Dissertations on why 3.5 outshines every other released edition of the game and how Pathfinder is an unholy abomination that fails to capture the true spirit of the game.  Unlike Gambol, Carlson does own a gun–a 3D printed replica of the one “invented” by his gnome technomancer.  He carries it in his holster instead of the one he’s legally provided as part of his job.  He thinks it’s cooler, and that by its very nature it will be a better deterrent than some lame mundane weapon.  It’s a +3, for goodness’ sake.

Gambol tunes him out around the word “kobold”, but no fewer than three of the poems in his upcoming collection are about obsessed coworkers and their steampunk fetishes.

It's really hard for me to be optimistic at the end of Rogue One with The Force Awakens in mind

*SPOILERS*

Okay picture this:
Rey and Poe exploring the remains of Scariff, to look for any surviving Imperial plans that the First Order may or may not be using or something like that.

And they or bb-8 come across this old, dusty, and partially deconstructed K2 unit.

Rey, naturally, tries to bring it back online, thinking if nothing else it can at least tell them more about the data stored here. And it works, the K2 unit comes online, sees the faces of the two humans kneeling over him and says, with his rusted and broken vocalizer, “JjjnNnn..CsSzz…” before blacking out again.

Now fast forward a bit.
K2S0 gets some more extensive repairs done (probably some new limbs along with a vocalized).
He learns how much time has passed.
He learns that all his human friends are long dead.
He’s returned to the Resistance base. He reunited with C-3P0 & R2-D2 (rare familiar faces). He starts getting to know bb-8 and Poe and Rey. He meets Finn and becomes his unofficial non-human wingman.

He learns of the First Order. Of this new war. Of how it started.

During a battle he gets separated from the others and happens upon Kylo Ren.

And introcduces himself by bitch slapping the shit out of him because /his friends did not die for this./

Alright, so I can kinda understand where The Sillies fame comes from.

Littlebark Grove has the technology our everyday society has (iphones, electric amps, etc) but it’s still a fairly secluded area. There’s really nothing there. That’s probably pretty normal, in the realm this world exists in, but it can lead to feelings of isolation and perhaps a bit of monotony.  Fee and Foo are decent distractions, sure, but eventually it’s just the same pranks, different days.

Then The Sillies come in. They have decent music, a decent song, and they cater to the children, who normally have to make their own entertainment. With nothing else around, it’s only natural they gain a sort of popularity even though Jeremy’s singing voice still needs work.

How long it will last is the million dollar question.

anonymous asked:

hi i have a female character who is short, but i want her to be a knight, could she fight like them and use a sword, or it's better to look for other ways she can fight? like maybe she uses her agility

There’s a real obsession with natural advantages in our inbox. I want to blame the media but I know that conversations about natural advantages and power of having a slightly longer reach filter in through a lot of different martial arts communities, often to the point where the less experienced students attribute another student’s hard work to their natural advantages because they were taller. When you know nothing else about combat, natural advantages look like insurmountable obstacles.

They’re not.

Every body comes with their own natural advantages and what you don’t have can be supplemented by hard work, extra study, and dedication. “Naturally good” is the quick and easy path taken by a lot of writers to justify that they don’t really know shit. The strongest, biggest guy is not automatically the best. The most naturally talented character who blows off their training sessions, does the bare minumum, and just hangs out because they don’t have to work hard to be successful in a controlled environment isn’t going to be the best when the time finally comes for a real test.

Your short female isn’t going to stay lithe, delicate, and small unless she is only fighting with a sword. If she’s training to wear the armor then she’ll end up stocky, lose a large portion of her chest to her pectoral muscles, have bigger shoulders, a more ropey neck, and thicker legs due to supporting the extra weight so she’s able to move for longer in battle. Those muscles are a necessary part of building endurance if she’s wearing plate. This is similar to modern militaries where the body type comes from training for endurance, the ability to march for miles while carrying heavy gear and still be ready to fight at the end of it.

Smaller bodies are more compact, which lends them better balance. Women build musculature better in their lower bodies rather than their upper which leads to stronger legs and a better base. Lighter in weight means they can move faster. They generate less force from their momentum, but lighter and more compact frames mean more fine control over their striking patterns. This can be more helpful when training in sword combat because the focus on accuracy makes them less likely to fall into the bad habit of relying on brute strength to get the job done.

It’s also worth pointing out, again, that no knight was trained in any single weapon nor carried one weapon into battle. The sword, particularly the longsword, is most commonly associated with them, but they also used: longarms/polearms including lances, maces, hammers, and that family of weapons, archery for both hunting and war, hunting both as a cultural exercise and part of their training, horsemanship, etc. Hunting was where the young noble/page/squire/knight learned important skills like tracking, utilizing tools such as animals, patience, command, etc.

Can she not do it because she’s a girl? No, it will be more difficult because the training is designed for boys and there may be cultural pressure against her, but it isn’t impossible. What will sabatoge her is her belief that girls can’t do it. The mind is a powerful tool, one which can often be the deciding factor between success and failure. If you believe you can’t do something, then you’ve already lost. You either decide to do it or you don’t. This is why you can’t forcibly train anyone to be a successful fighter. You can train them, use them as cannon fodder, but outside forces cannot make anyone the best of the best. They do it on their own with outside aid, but the thrust of the decision comes from within.

The same goes for you as her author. If you believe your female character cannot compete with boys through her own merits and by virtue of her own hard work then you’re more likely to institute what we’ll call “special exceptions” which inevitably lead to the female character being “uniquely qualified”. You sabotage yourself and your story by making the path easier, and end up talking more about how different she is from other girls rather than focusing on what she’s doing to achieve her dreams.

Try to keep in mind that there are plenty female practitioners of both fencing styles and HEMA which is Historical European Martial Arts. It’s not that women can’t, it’s that they need to work hard.

Much as media, roleplaying games, might wish to tell us, neither your body nor your sex decide how you choose to fight. It doesn’t lock you into a fighting style or type of combat. It doesn’t limit you to any sort of fighting, it doesn’t deny you from combat.

Culture does. Our own beliefs and prejudices do. How we see ourselves and what we believe ourselves to be capable of will.

Our bodies are just bodies.

There’s a popular opinion that hard work will always be outdone by genius, but the truth is: only be a genius who works hard.

Your character can keep up with the boys if she works hard, if she’s willing to address her weaknesses, and focuses to turn them into her strengths. If she’s willing to put in the effort required and doesn’t fall back on “unfair”.

Hard work and solid research ultimately win the day.

Research:

Tamora Pierce: Protector of the Small, The Song of the Lioness Quartet

These two book series by Tamora Pierce feature useful information about knighthood/training (the Protector of the Small series specifically) and a short woman learning to be a knight (Alanna the Lioness). If you haven’t read them, both will be helpful to you as jumping off points.

Sharon Kay Penman, When Christ and His Saints Slept

Sharon Kay Penman’s novels, particularly her Plantagenets series, are helpful for getting some groundwork for the historical medieval lifestyle, history, culture, and most importantly: politics. Her novels feature some incredibly interesting women such as Eleanor of Aquitaine, which can be helpful when trying to develop well-rounded female characters who break with tradition in a much more culturally “acceptable” way. This series also focuses on one of my favorite historical periods and English dynasties. All in all, if you want to write about knights then I recommend reading. 

Scholagladitoria

Matt Easton is a HEMA practitioner and instructor, and his videos are incredibly useful for anyone looking to write about sword combat. He’s informative, well researched, and if you can’t take classes then this is the next best thing. You’ll also occasionally turn up the YouTube back and forth internet debates where he and different HEMA tubers debate the different merits of their arguments.

Skallagrim

Skallagrim focuses mostly on swords, different kinds of swords, whether the fantasy swords created for movies would work in the real world, etc. He’s entertaining and a useful resource.

Samantha Swords

Another useful resource, Samantha is a female HEMA practitioner and stunt woman who participates in the sport.  If you want a discussion from a decidedly feminine perspective or just want confirmation (again) that women really can fight like knights then check out her page.

Wikitenaur

This is a free library of historical european martial arts books and manuscripts. It’s still in progress but you can find some translations and pages of historical treatises by masters there if you’re willing to slog through ye olde language. If you’re used to reading and learning terminology used in different time periods then this will be a helpful resource. If not, or you’re new to scholarly study then I recommend starting with the above resources and working your way down. A good litmus test is: do I have trouble understanding Shakespeare, Chaucer, and/or the writings of Madison without the help of a translator? If no, then feel free. If yes, ground yourself in the above. If you decide to check it out anyway (no reason why not) and get frustrated then go back to A.

Remember, language changes over time. Often it’s easier to think of writings/articles/books from the 16th and 17th centuries as a different language all together regardless of whether or not they’ve been translated. The problem in understanding isn’t intelligence but rather acclimation. As it stands most writers from older time periods wrote for the audiences of their day, meaning different expectations in culture and educational background that modern readers lack.

There’s no fault in needing the footnotes in Shakespeare in order to get the jokes, even less in not understanding the play until you see it performed on stage as it was meant to be. It really is okay if 10 Things I Hate About You is your necessary prerequisite to understanding Taming of the Shrew. You aren’t dumb, you just don’t understand Elizabethan culture, social structure, or the political climate on which the humor or references are built.

If you need to start smaller with other references then that really is okay.

-Michi

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Fictober: In Flagrante Parento

A little something I thought of at three a.m. … afternoon delight at the unremarkable house, a few years ago.  

“No, it wasn’t gross and disgusting! It was … um, it was beautiful,” she hears him say as she pads back to the living room, now in her slippers with a thick robe on over … nothing else.

“And natural,” she adds, tightening her sash and going to take a seat on the wing chair opposite the couch where they sit.

“Oh, god, you guys,” William moans, head in his hands, ears — the only part of his face visible from that posture — so red they might be in danger of actually catching fire. “Please, please stop talking.”

Keep reading

‘He wanted to know what I saw in you. I told him…’ he paused again, and then continued almost shyly, 'that you poured out honor like a fountain, all around you.’
'That’s weird. I don’t feel full of honor, or anything else, except maybe confusion.’
'Naturally not. Fountains keep nothing for themselves.’
—  Shards of Honor, Lois McMaster Bujold
Mornings

I place my head at the crook of his neck. I always loved mornings like this. Maybe it was his raspy voice saying my name, talking in general or maybe it was the fact that he was pouty in the mornings and begged for me to stay with him. Though today he didn’t need to. We both had the day off and so far it was great. He hummed at me kissing his neck. I stopped and looked into his green eyes.
“I love you” he said and even though it wasn’t the first time he had said it my heart swelled like every time he does.
“And I love you”
“Do you want to do anything today?” He asked. Did I? I mean it was my day off and I shouldn’t stay at home but being in his arms felt so good, just natural, just us and it felt like nothing else mattered, like nothing could hurt us, just us. Our bodies fitted together like we were made for each other, just curled up either on the couch watching a sappy movie, Harry saying that he wants to see an action film while secretly crying at the end of ‘The notebook’, or at bed, just enjoying each others presence and everything that comes with it.
“I kind of want to stay here, with you. Do you want to do something else?”
“No, not at all. I just thought you were getting bored”
“I am not getting bored when I am with you, you never fail to surprise me actually”
“Well what can I say, I am a man of mystery. But today I have no surprises, so aren’t you getting bored of staying in bed? I mean I am not but-”
I cut him off kissing him. He took a few seconds to catch up and start moving his lips with mine.
“Will you stop blubbering?”
“Sorry”
“I love being with you, that is something. I don’t need to go sonewhere to have fun. Being in your arms is enough. I could stay here all day”
“How did I get this lucky?”
“I don’t know how did you?” I teased him.
“Come closer”
I layed on his chest, tracing his butterfly tattoo while he played with my hair. His actions were so gentle and meaningful. I loved all of the little things about him. Even the fact he gets grumpy when we are out of bananas or that when I am out he will call a thousand times just to say hi and let me know that the boys miss me too. He was perfect in every way.
“Never leave me please” he said puckering his lips, so childlike, kissing the top of my head.
“I never will”
“Good”
“Yeah… guess I will be stuck with you forever”
“Works for me” he smiled and a few minutes later we both slowly drifted off to sleep, in each other’s arms.