rough hill



My first 5K, the Cincinnati Cyclone’s 5K.

I had two goals: don’t walk and finish by 38 minutes.

I came in around 28 minutes!!!! Overall the course was less hilly than my course in my neighborhood, but there was one rough hill at the last half mile and then a hill to the finish line, which I think was pretty cruel.

When I was turning for that last hill and I knew I had less than .2 left, I almost wanted to cry. I knew I went fast at the beginning but I couldn’t believe I kept it up. I’m so proud and so excited!

I feel like a runner.

internallydeceased  asked:

First of all, I love you all so much you're amazing at what you do and inspire me so much. Thank you for this blog I have not lived before this. I'm not sure if this has been done before or not, but what if Claire found out she was pregnant before she fully realized her feelings for Jamie?

Leaning back against the nearest tree, Claire huffed out a large breath, her mind finally calming as the rage of being *abandoned* here with young Willie dissipated.

“Mistress…?” The young lad yelled, scratching the side of his head, displacing his cap as he hopped from foot to foot, nerves getting the better of him.

“Out with it, Willie,” Claire sighed, exasperated with the whole ordeal.

“I’m just going further into the woods, aye? To piss…” he trailed off, not needing to explain further as he awaited Claire’s approval.

“Go on then,” she replied, a terse tone to her voice, one that she couldn’t seem to eradicate no matter how hard she tried, “just make sure you go downwind!”

Nodding, the lad scarpered, the leaves around his feet flying to the sides in his haste to leave.

Flopping back against the tree, Claire swayed to and fro, her toes buried in the detritus at her feet as she gazed around her, her mind trying not to conjure up fresh images of the raiders in the glade.

Pushing herself up, she wandered the same stretch of forest over and over, her movements making a wee path in the mulch, her footprints embedding into the forest floor. Shaking the renewed anguish from her head, Claire’s eyes darted just passed the tree line.

There, just out of sight and hidden ever so slightly by the thick bark of the oak trees, lay a familiar outcrop.

“Craigh na Dunn….” she whispered, her heart beginning to race as she stepped forward slightly. The swishing of the leaves around her kept her grounded as she laid her hands against the bark of the last evergreen, digging her fingers into the thin trunk as the wind blew through her hair.

Having little time to think, Claire hiked up her skirts and made for the hill, the rough terrain hampering her footsteps only slightly as she darted through the open ground paying no mind to anything or anyone who might be passing by.

Images of Frank swirled before her eyes as her ankles buckled, the small dips in the grass causing her to lose balance more than once.

She had to make it up there.

The wind blew, rising around her as she forged her way onwards, not giving a thought to the highlanders she’s ceremoniously dumped, or whether they would be perturbed by her mysterious disappearance.

Beckoning her forwards, the stones seem to call to her, the brisk breeze making hollow screeching sounds the closer she came to the circle.

The sun dipped low on the horizon as she finally reached the brow of the small incline, the hum and whisper of the stones echoing loudly in her ears now.

Reaching her hands forwards, Claire slowed her pace, her heart thumping madly in her chest –partially from her sprint, but partially a build up of nervous energy.

Could she really do this?

Could she simply abandon Jamie without a second thought, without leaving him some simple sign that she hadn’t been abducted, hurt or even killed outright.

The attack in the glen hit her square in the chest, the memory of the rogue redcoats grasping hands causing her to shiver as she slipped closer and closer towards the unconscious pull of the fairy hill.

Inside, deep in her belly, a warmth started to emanate. Beginning in her womb, the *glow* seemed to fill her frigid veins with new life, her eyes tearing up as the image of Frank wobbled and faded.

Suddenly her rash decision didn’t seem so clear anymore, and her flight away from Willie and the protection of the forest seemed foolish and selfish.

*No*, she reasoned, anger flaring as she took a measured step forwards, numbing herself to the strange sensation currently bubbling up just beneath her pale skin. She needed to go home, to the twentieth century where she belonged –where she had been desperate to return to this entire time.

Clenching her fists, Claire steadied her shoulders and fought back against the emotions coursing through her.

In the distance, a subtle cry pulled her from her internal conflagration, her ears pricking at the sound.

*Willie*…she could hear him calling out to her, his anxious fretting reverberating through the low ground as he searched for her.

Dipping down, Claire hid herself, her mouth going dry at the mere thought of him out there, frantically scraping every inch of the nearby surroundings in the hope of coming across her.

Her stomach dropped, the sensation rocking her as she gripped her belly, doubling over as she gasped for breath.

*NO*, she cried, albeit silently, the improbable explanation for her unease causing bile to rise in her throat.

*No. No, no…no!*

It couldn’t be.

She wasn’t sure, but it was certainly too soon to tell.

Her body, however, immediately dismissed the notion, the muscles in her womb tightening as if to protect the tiny visitor growing inside.

Slamming her back against a tree that grew on the edge of the hillock, Claire clenched her eyes shut, moisture spilling down her cheeks as she rubbed the same spot over and over, the rough material of her bodice irritating the sweat-drenched skin of her palms.

Before she had time to debate any further strong hands grabbed her, hauling her from the damp grass where she’d collapsed in anguish only moments before.

“Up with you, mistress!” The redcoats spat, distaste lacing their tone as they pulled Claire aside, taking advantage of her delirious state.

Finally, her faculties returning to her, Claire awoke, fury shooting through her from head to toe as she began to fight, her arms aching where the men had tight hold of her.

“No!” She yelled, her cheeks burning, impassioned rage seeping from her pores as she tried hard to flee.

“I don’t think so, my girl,” the older of the pair sneered, his blackened teeth grinding together as he bound her wrists and thrust he up into their small cart. “I’d save all your strength,” the younger returned, a fowl glint in his eyes as he secured her to the wagon, her wrists burning and her blood running cold as she guessed the next words out of his mouth, “you’ll need it soon enough. Just you wait until Captain Randall sees you, eh…”

With that, her heart plummeted.

As the horses began to pull away, Claire slid her knees upwards, cocooning herself against the thin material of the wagon wall, protecting the only thing that mattered now. The one thing she had wanted most of all.

Burying her head in her hands, she wept quietly, bitter tears rolling in thick rivulets down her flushed cheeks.

Why now? She cursed, her internal monologue going unheeded as dusk settled over the highlands.

Why now with a man she barely knew in a land where she was all but a stranger?

“I’m so…sorry,” she whispered.

To Frank.

To Jamie…

…and to their unborn baby.


Galloping Abs - Rough and Ready Fan Fiction
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Alright, let’s just get this out, right away. This is a US Today Best Selling Author. She is not self published, and she is not a 13 year old girl. She wouldn’t write…most of this. This is a fake excerpt, written because Sandra Hill did indeed write “dick attack”. And that is why I said most.

However, I thought it would be fun to review this anyways. Since it does fall under my jurisdiction…of bad fan fiction. So, without further adieu, the infamous “excerpt” from Rough and Ready by Sandra Hill the clever son of a bitch who wrote this beauty.

Keep reading

‘Under the Dome’

Low tide at (Rough Island) Island Hill, Strangford Lough, Northern Ireland.
With about an hour to go before sunset, and the forecast for patchy cloud and rain, convinced myself to take the 25 minute drive to Island Hill. Glad I did!
The causeway to the island is exposed for several hours at low tide, and light rain added to the lush colour of the scene.
‘Between the tides, a range of habitats appear from differing grades of mud and sand to boulders and salt marsh. The area is rich in worms, shellfish and other small animals that are a vast food source attracting migratory birds and waders, with some species found in internationally important numbers during the winter. Eelgrass is abundant and is the principle food source of Brent geese, many thousands of which migrate to the Lough during September and October.’


Request: I’m having serious Peter feels so #24 and #34 where the reader goes into heat and goes to Peter for help. Please <3

Author’s Note: I need some Peter smut on my blog and just in my life in general, so I came up with this. Hope you like it! :)

Warnings: Smut. Not really any plot, just pure smut!

24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this”

34. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to bed”


My body was going nuts. My hormones and emotions were all over the place and all I wanted to do all the time was have sex. Rough, raw, animalistic sex. Needless to say, I was in heat.

It had only just started and already I was going insane. Not knowing what else to do, grabbed my keys and sped across town to the only person that I knew would be able to help me with my…predicament. When I pulled up, I practically ran up the stairs to his door, pounding on the wood so hard that I was sure my fist was going to smash through any second. It flew open, revealing a confused and frustrated Peter.

“You’re going to wake up all my neighbors,” he said, pulling me inside and closing the door quietly.

“I need your help,” I told him quickly, not wasting any time. He gave me a smirk as he looked my body up and down. Oh, he knew what I meant. “Peter, you’re the only one I trust to do this.” 

“ I could smell you from the bottom floor,” he growled, striding over to me and pressing his lips to mine in a heated kiss. Immediately I was kissing back with equal fervor, my tongue seeking out his. Peter pressed me into the wall, his hands on either side of my head as he pulled back slightly. “How do you want it this time, baby?” he asked, his voice low and husky already. I reached forward and caught his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging on it lightly.

“Rough and wild,” I told him, my eyes dark with lust as I licked my lips. He cocked his head to the side slightly, a small grin on his face.

“I love when you tell me that.” Before I could process what was happening, Peter had my shirt ripped to shreds and his mouth was on my neck. I groaned as his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips, knowing they were already leaving bruises. I gripped his shoulders, my claws poking out a tad and cutting his skin, emitting a hiss from his lips. Peter worked quickly, sucking and biting his way to the top of my cleavage and creating dark love bites there. 

“Peter!” I said angrily as my ruined underwear fell to the ground. “I liked that bra.” He chuckled deeply, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth and making me forget all about the bra while his other large hand squeezed my free breast roughly. I couldn’t help but moan and toss my head back into the wall. My fingers tugged at the top of hist shirt until he quickly threw it off, returning to my body. I kissed him fiercely, pulling his hips to mine and trying to get some much needed friction. Peter caught my drift, but he had other plans. Plans to drive me crazy. 

He pulled away from the kiss and began gliding down my body, his eyes locked with mine the whole time and his tongue dragging along my heated flesh. He finally reached my jeans, kneeling in front of me, and made quick work of removing them. Peter held my hips tightly to keep me from squirming as he pressed his face to my panty-covered core.

“Such a pretty color,” he noted playfully, his breath ghosting over me and making me whimper. My fingers tangled in his locks to pull him to me, but he resisted. 

“Peter,” I groaned in annoyance. He tsked at me, making me glare down at him.

“Such a bad girl, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know what bad girls get?” I shook my head, biting my lip as I did so. He smirked and stood up, and the next thing I knew, I was turned around and pressed to the wall, my ass sticking out slightly. “They get spanked.” Peter’s hand collided with my ass with bruising force. I yelped, but I let a smile form on my lips as I closed my eyes. 

“Oh, fuck,” I cried as he did it again, my whole body tingling with sensation. I felt his hand slide around to my front, slipping over my core. “Peter..” My head fell back against his shoulder, his mouth by my ear. His other hand was kneading my breast, holding me against him as his fingers circled around my clit slowly.

“Do you know what else bad girls get, Y/N?” he asked in my ear. I shook my head, unable to speak. “They don’t get to cum until I say so.” I groaned at his words, knowing I was in for a long night. Peter slid his fingers down, shoving two inside me and keeping an agonizingly slow pace as they curled to hit that perfect spot inside me. I could already feel that knot building, but I knew it wouldn’t break for awhile.

“Peter, please,” I begged wanting him to get this over with and move on to fucking me into the mattress. He hummed in response, but didn’t speed up. Instead, he removed his hand completely, leaving me empty. He turned me around and then was on his knees in front of me again. His eyes met mine with that mischievous look as he threw my leg over his shoulder.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said before digging in. I moaned loudly as his tongue expertly moved over me, circling my clit and then pressing on it, then moving to my entrance and back up again. My hands were in his hair, spurring him on more. I was a moaning mess, bucking my hips against his face as he dug his fingers into my thighs.

“Peter, don’t stop!” I yelled, throwing my head back, mouth open. I felt that knot snap with a shaking force, sending me into bliss. Peter didn’t stop, lapping at my clit to make it last as long as possible. Finally, he removed my leg and stood up slowly. I was breathing heavily when my eyes cracked open to meet his beautiful blue ones. he was smirking like an idiot and I fixed my gaze on him, already wanting more.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to bed,” he chuckled. I let out a growl and then pounced on him. Peter fell back onto his table and I took the opportunity to rip off his jeans while he was still stunned. I climbed over his body and straddled his hips, running my hands up his bare chest.

“I don’t care about a bed,” I stated, leaning down and planting a firm kiss to hip lips as my hands tugged his boxers off. Peter’s hands were all over me, turning me on even more. I grabbed his large erection and teased him for a moment before sliding myself down on him. We both let out groans of satisfaction, and I started bouncing up and down at a quick pace. Peter grabbed my hips and started moving me faster, bucking up into me as well. I was bracing my hands against his hard torso, eyes closed in bliss. Then we were flipped over, somehow still on the table, and Peter had my legs wrapped around his waist, pounding into me furiously.

“You know I hate being on bottom,” he growled into my neck, nipping it roughly. My nails clawed up and down his back as noises fell from my lips uncontrollably. One of his hands was on my chest, the other digging into my thigh/hip area to hold me in place.

“Peter, harder,” I begged. “Fuck me harder!” We were both sweaty and hot at this point, and both so close to release. With a snarl, he somehow increased his thrusts, his hips slamming into mine every time and sending jolts throughout my entire body. I was screaming his name and curses and incoherent words, on the brink of my climax. I leaned up and bit Peter’s shoulder roughly, making him let out a small roar and sending us both over the edge. We were breathing hard, unable to move for a few seconds after coming back to reality. And then Peter was slowly standing up and stretching, looking over me with a smirk.

“Feel better?” he asked. I bit my lip and nodded at him, still on the table. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can walk,” I told him, raising my eyebrows and laughing a bit. He chuckled proudly and walked over, scooping me up and carrying me back to his bed. He laid me down and then crawled in next to me, propping his head on his elbow to look at my body. 

“You’re covered in bruises,” he noted softly, tracing a few of them with his fingers. I shrugged, pulling the covers around myself.

“They’ll be healed by morning,” I said with a small smile that he returned. I let out a sigh. “You know, it’s only the beginning.” I turned to meet his eyes in the darkness. I saw that look come over him again.

“Well, then I suppose you’ll just have to stay here until your heat is over then,” he told me slyly. I laughed at his words. “I wouldn’t want you having any more..difficulties.”

أني هارب طريد
في غابة
في وطن بعيد
تتبعني الذئاب
عبر البراري السود والهضاب
والفراق يا حبيبتي عذاب
أني بلا وطن
أموت في مدينة مجهولة
يا حبيبتي
وحدي بلا وطن

I dreamt I was a fugitive 
Hiding in a forest.
The wolves in a distant country
Hounded me through black deserts and over rough hills.
My dear, our separation was torture. 
I dreamt I was without a home, 
Dying in an unknown city,
Dying alone, my love, without a home.
—  Abdul Wahab al-Bayati (Translated by Abdullah Udhari)

EDNA, GROUSE HUNTRESS” - an accomplished young grouse huntress posing with a bird in one hand and her rifle in the other. She’s wearing a soiled gingham sack dress with bullets in the pocket, worn hiking boots and her her father’s hat and bandanna. A practical girl with a serious expression and no-nonsense attitude, she looks at home on the rough hills of her hunting ground. The photo was printed by photographer H. R. Hay of Salida, Colorado.

“This is a picture of Edna, - Taken two years ago when we were in Orient”, reads the caption written on the back.


Papaya isn’t like a normal Harpy, migrating from the rough hills in the  Reedcleft Ascent, she doesn’t like the ideas of war, and staying in the same place her whole life. Getting her name from her first meal being a large Papaya, discovering that it was the best fruit ever. At a young age, this Beastclan member wanted to travel all around Sorneith, not confined to the flock taking care of the Males and going to war. She liked other things like art, flying, and butterflies. The other Harpies noticed pretty early that she didn’t like either of those things, and was too small to even fight. The flock basically singled her out, and wouldn’t accept her. She left at a young age, travelling around Sorneith, and documenting her adventures from time to time. 

Papaya was also interested in many other things as time went on. Basketmaking, cooking, tree-climbing, sewing, and other fun things. She just wanted to be free, have fun, and just enjoy life. She stopped her travels in the Starfall Isles, a place where she really felt at home. Dragons in a small clan accepted her as their own, and welcomed her happily. 

The Rough Riders by Mort Kunstler

“Teddy” Roosevelt leads the 1st United States Volunteer Cavalry - “Rough Riders” - up Kettle Hill during the Spanish-American War. Limited logistical capacity meant that the Regiment left their horses behind, with only Col. Roosevelt mounted as the men charged the Spanish positions on July 1, 1898.

(National Guard)