unfrequented

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches...  Chapter 97 - Stolen wine, band-aids & giggling fits during s*x

Originally posted by walking-dead-icons

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…

MASTERLIST


Chapter 97 - Stolen wine, band-aids & giggling fits during sex

[Negan catches a drunken Blake and the wives in the act of stealing bottles of wine from the stores. But the dark-haired Saviour proves to be not exactly sober himself….]

WARNING: Dirty talk/ fun hints of smut / swearing…and a teeny appearance by everyone’s favourite tiny toddler.


Blake raced down the hallway on bare feet, as Frankie and the others ran ahead, all of them laughing wildly in their drunken state, as they clutched stolen bottles of wine to their chests.

“Oh my god, if anyone finds out about this!” Tanya, with an elated laugh, as she span around at the far end of the hallway, the six of them swiftly ducking down a darkened corridor unfrequented by many Saviours, and used mostly for carting inside scavenged items brought in from the back of the trucks.

Blake, feeling very tipsy and out of breath, due to a combination of the running, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and her constant uncontrollable giggles, ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Which was difficult, of course, on bare feet, hearing the sound of the wives’ ‘clack-clack-claking’ of high heels ahead of her as she went.

She was still in her black dress (the only one of the women to be wearing one now, in fact, after their change of clothes back in Blake’s room), her long caramel-hair flying behind her as she went.

“Hey!” she cried tipsily, trying hard to keep up with Frankie, giggling hard, as the others as they beckoned her to hurry. “Wait for me!”

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anonymous asked:

Mulder's plans for today: Flirt with his wife over a dead body then take her out to dinner.

Mulder’s Weekly Planner:

Monday: Go for run, take wife to investigate yeti sighting, buy groceries, maybe get lucky

Tuesday: Join wife for autopsy on unexplained murder case, make dinner, catch up on netflix shows, maybe get lucky

Wednesday:  Trick wife into going UFO hunting, eat dinner at unfrequented diner, probably won’t get lucky

Thursday: Drive to spooky town in middle of nowhere, bust an evil cult case wide open, order pizza, eat in motel with wife and maybe get lucky

Friday: Flirt with wife over dead body, take her out to dinner, probably get lucky

9

lonely

[lohn-lee]

adjective, lonelier, loneliest.

  1. affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome.
  2. destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support, etc.: a lonely exile.
  3. lone; solitary; without company; companionless.
  4. remote from places of human habitation; desolate; unfrequented; bleak: a lonely road.
  5. standing apart; isolated: a lonely tower.

THE SYMBOLIC APHORISMS OF PYTHAGORAS

Iamblichus gathered thirty-nine of the symbolic sayings of Pythagoras and interpreted them. These have been translated from the Greek by Thomas Taylor. Aphorismic statement was one of the favorite methods of instruction used in the Pythagorean university of Crotona. Ten of the most representative of these aphorisms are reproduced below with a brief elucidation of their concealed meanings.

I. Declining from the public ways, walk in unfrequented paths. By this it is to be understood that those who desire wisdom must seek it in solitude.

II. Govern your tongue before all other things, following the gods. This aphorism warns man that his words, instead of representing him, misrepresent him, and that when in doubt as to what he should say, he should always be silent.

III. The wind blowing, adore the sound. Pythagoras here reminds his disciples that the fiat of God is heard in the voice of the elements, and that all things in Nature manifest through harmony, rhythm, order, or procedure the attributes of the Deity.

IV. Assist a man in raising a burden; but do not assist him in laying it down. The student is instructed to aid the diligent but never to assist those who seek to evade their responsibilities, for it is a great sin to encourage indolence.

V. Speak not about Pythagoric concerns without light. The world is herein warned that it should not attempt to interpret the mysteries of God and the secrets of the sciences without spiritual and intellectual illumination.

VI. Having departed from your house, turn not back, for the furies will be your attendants. Pythagoras here warns his followers that any who begin the search for truth and, after having learned part of the mystery, become discouraged and attempt to return again to their former ways of vice and ignorance, will suffer exceedingly; for it is better to know nothing about Divinity than to learn a little and then stop without learning all.

VII. Nourish a cock, but sacrifice it not; for it is sacred to the sun and moon. Two great lessons are concealed in this aphorism. The first is a warning against the sacrifice of living things to the gods, because life is sacred and man should not destroy it even as an offering to the Deity. The second warns man that the human body here referred to as a cock is sacred to the sun (God) and the moon (Nature), and should be guarded and preserved as man’s most precious medium of expression. Pythagoras also warned his disciples against suicide.

VIII. Receive not a swallow into your house. This warns the seeker after truth not to allow drifting thoughts to come into his mind nor shiftless persons to enter into his life. He must ever surround himself with rationally inspired thinkers and with conscientious workers.

IX. Offer not your right hand easily to anyone. This warns the disciple to keep his own counsel and not offer wisdom and knowledge (his right hand) to such as are incapable of appreciating them. The hand here represents Truth, which raises those who have fallen because of ignorance; but as many of the unregenerate do not desire wisdom they will cut off the hand that is extended in kindness to them. Time alone can effect the redemption of the ignorant masses

X. When rising from the bedclothes, roll them together, and obliterate the impression of the body. Pythagoras directed his disciples who had awakened from the sleep of ignorance into the waking state of intelligence to eliminate from their recollection all memory of their former spiritual darkness; for a wise man in passing leaves no form behind him which others less intelligent, seeing, shall use as a mold for the casting of idols.

~ Manly P. Hall; The Secret Teachings Of All Ages

To solve the enigma of your lips
To be familiar with all of the unfrequented avenues of your body, every mole, every scar, every curve
To recognize every nuance in the magical aroma of your skin
To expertly taste every flavor that you have to offer
To know by heart, the meaning behind every sound, and sigh  that come from your lips
To be proficient in the science of your pleasure
To know exactly where, when and how to kiss, touch, and taste to drive you crazy and give you bliss
To be acquainted with your look of spent desire
The hidden knowledge of you only I possess
The intimate secrets of lovers are my favorite things
—  e.v.e.
10

Agora (2009) - You don’t question what you believe, or cannot. I must.

There was a woman at Alexandria named Hypatia, daughter of the philosopher Theon, who made such attainments in literature and science, as to far surpass all the philosophers of her own time. Having succeeded to the school of Plato and Plotinus, she explained the principles of philosophy to her auditors, many of whom came from a distance to receive her instructions. On account of the self-possession and ease of manner, which she had acquired in consequence of the cultivation of her mind, she not unfrequently appeared in public in presence of the magistrates. Neither did she feel abashed in going to an assembly of men. For all men on account of her extraordinary dignity and virtue admired her the more. Yet even she fell victim to the political jealousy which at that time prevailed. - Socrates Scholasticus

II.
The midday heat starts to scorch the skin but being in this place at this moment is more compelling. We halt from our hike of the undulating dirt path to admire the view of a landmark from this high spot which serves as passage to Kuya E’s scenic discovery, an off-the-radar location that only those who seek of such unfrequented spots, and happen to ask him can only witness (as of the time being).

Earlier that morning, my face could have probably lit up in excitement the instant he dropped the “If you want I could show you…” line. With confidence he even wagered his fee if I wouldn’t like it. I said deal. Let’s see what this is all about.

Batanes
January 2017

crazy for you / harry potter

[ in which harry has a crush on you and realize your own feelings through his ]

word count// 1,405


Escaping to the library with the Golden Trio was always great fun. You and Hermione practically lived among the shelves upon shelves of dusty books. The shared passion for burying your noses into a good story brought the two of you incredibly close when you had first met Hermione in first year. Her bush of hair had been all you could see peeking out from behind the pages and you couldn’t help but like her instantly.  Four years later, both of you having entered fifth year, it was hardly uncommon to see one without the other.

Ron and Harry being in the library was also an unfrequented occasion. They were loud and rather obnoxious to be around in such a tranquil environment, earning them—especially Ron—dirty looks and hushed pleads for them to lower their volume. Neither of the boys minded being unwanted in the library and commenced in cracking jokes, laughing rambunctiously. You found it incredibly amusing to see Hermione hitting them with parchment and wondered how Madam Pince had yet to kick the four of you out.

The Golden Quartet sat in one of the many aisles of bookshelves, papers and inky quills lying scattered around all of you. Ron had snuck chocolate frogs in under his robes and munched on them greedily, surely leaving brown fingerprints on his Potions essay he was neglecting to do. Hermione, Harry, and you were engaged in a conversation about Harry’s supposed crush but the two refused to inform you of the girl’s name. It puzzled you since the four of you told one another absolutely everything.

“Why can’t you just tell me the girl’s bloody name?” You asked exasperatingly and threw your hands in the air, hitting Ron in the face in the process.

“Ow!” Ron moaned. “What the hell was that for?”

Your eyes flickered to Hermione and Harry before bursting out in giggles. Your hand flew up to your mouth, stifling the laughter slightly until Ron shoved you. In a flash, you had retaliated with smacking the boy beside you on the back of his head until the two of you were in a literal war of hitting, laughing, and pinching.

“I swear, Ronald, if you get chocolate on my favorite sweater I will end you.”

Ron’s eyes glinted mischievously. He extended his fingers that were smeared with melted chocolate, tauntingly waving them around you whilst your two other friends clutched their stomachs from laughing. You squealed when one of his hands grew extremely close and scrambled to the opposite side of the aisle beside Harry. In your haste to get out of Ron’s reach, you had nearly sat in the black haired boy’s lap but didn’t bother moving since you were quite comfortable. To say the poor boy’s cheeks were blood red was an understatement; however you assumed it was from laughing so violently.

Turning your attention back on Harry and Hermione, you clasped your hands together in a praying gesture. “Please tell me who this girl is!” You begged.

“It’s embarrassing, Y/N,” Harry mumbled and avoided your eyes.

It was then that you felt a hand resting on your waist. The heat of his mere touch was alarmingly pleasant and even though the sweater you wore was a barrier between Harry’s hand and your flaming skin, it made your whole body tingle. Your heart was thudding relentlessly against your chest and when the Y/E/C of your eyes met his stunningly blue ones, the pounding only intensified. You could hear it beating in your ears and by the mesmerizing look he gave you, it was safe to say that he was feeling exactly what you were.

When you finally managed to look away from the dazzling boy whose lap you sat in, Hermione and Ron were exchanging a knowing glance. Both of them wore a shit-eating grin, looking as if they had won a prize of some sort. It was hard to focus on anything else when Harry had discreetly slipped his fingertips under the fabric of your sweater, his skin meeting yours and feeling as if they had ignited a fire. Figuring out who the lucky girl was that held Harry’s heart had vacated your mind and all you could think about was what you were feeling for your best friend.

One question stuck out in your mind.

When the hell had you started liking Harry Potter?

The pads of Harry’s fingertips traced the bottom of your spine and God, it felt so good to have him touch you but heat was beginning to grow in your cheeks and the mirrored expression of delight on Ron and Hermione’s faces made you scramble from the intoxicating boy’s lap. Once you had settled back in alongside the redheaded boy, your digits curled around the hem of your shirt and tried to catch your breath. It frustrated you because even though Harry sat across from you, nowhere near to touch you, it felt like his hands were still on your waist with hot fingertips grazing your skin.

Hermione cleared her throat. You sent her a death stare as she tried to suppress a wide grin. “Ron, are you hungry? I think it’s near time for dinner and I’m starved,” Hermione exclaimed and began to gather her things.

“When am I not hungry?” Ron shot off the ground in a flash, parchment and quills in hand to retreat to the Great Hall for dinner.

All the while you gazed at them in horror. You were terrified of being left alone with Harry, still aghast at the feelings you had discovered for the boy you’d been friends with since first year. Harry appeared just as on edge as you with his glasses askew, hair messy and ruffled, and rosiness tinting his face ever so slightly.

“Dinner isn’t until another hour from n—“

“Well, we’re off! You two don’t have too much fun!” Hermione interrupted and scurried out of the library, a chortling Ron Weasley right on her heels.      

“I am literally going to kill Hermione Granger,” You growled and scrambled off the floor, ready to go after them when someone shoved you against a bookshelf.

A familiar pair of striking blue eyes trailed over your face. He gripped both of your arms and held them gently, but firmly to keep your squirming body in place against his. He was touching you again and no coherent thought could form in your brain because he was so close, his nose brushing yours, and every inch of you was on fire. Never did Harry’s eyes flicker from you, not even as he released your arms and placed his palms on your back, pressing even closer to you until his lips brushed yours if he moved. Chests heaving, eyes lidded with desire and with a whimper of his five lettered name, Harry pushed his lips to slot perfectly to yours.

He tasted sweet like the chocolate Ron had given him. His hands trailed from your back up to cup both of your cheeks and you found your hands wrapping around his wrists, never wanting him to let you go. He kissed you with such passion, slowly, and softly and it made every fiber in your being ignite—like gasoline and vodka going up in flames, creating a roaring reaction.

The passionate embrace ended all too soon. Harry detached his mouth from yours, but you craved for more so you couldn’t help yourself when you pulled him down to your lips again for a quick but very lustful kiss. Staggered breathing filled the empty aisle in the nearly vacant library and an involuntary giggle filled the quiet air at Harry’s flushed complexion.

The black haired boy cracked a shy smile and leaned towards your ear. “I’m crazy about you, Y/N,” Harry rasped out.

You admired the boy in front of you. His hair was sticking up everywhere, glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and he looked oh-so-shy and beautiful in the dimly lit room. The boy in front of you came from a horrid family who had no ounce of love for him, got caught up in mischief that somehow managed to always find him, and held the weight of the world on his shoulders at only sixteen. God, you were absolutely mad for Harry Potter—the boy with the lightning bolt scar.

“Good.” You leaned your forehead against his and grinned. “Because I’m crazy about you, Harry.”

hey um, fuck both Malory and White, i didn’t need tears this fine afternoon: 

‘Listen to the letter.’

Lancelot carried it to the window and fell silent, examining the writing. There was something touching about it, the hand being so unlike its author. Gawaine had hardly been the sort of person you thought of as a writer. Indeed it would have seemed more natural if he had been illiterate, like most of the others. Yet here, instead of the spiky Gothic then in use, was the lovely old Gaelic minuscule, as neat and round and small as when he had learned it from some ancient saint in dim Dunlothian. He had written so unfrequently since, that the art had retained its beauty. It was an old—maid’s hand, or an old—fashioned boy’s, sitting with his feet hooked round the legs of a stool and his tongue out, writing carefully. He had carried this innocent precision, these dainty demoded cusps, through misery and passion to old age. It was as if a bright boy had stepped out of the black armour: a small boy with a drop on the end of his nose, his feet bare with blue toes, a root of tangle in the thin bundle of carrots which were his fingers.

anonymous asked:

mayor Peter as stepdad got me thinking (non mayor and has some time-issues but TW has them too ;) ): After the coma the Stilinskis (Stiles is still a child) take Peter under their wings. With time Sheriff & Peter falling in love, Peter adopts Stiles and Stiles calls im Papa. Laura isn't the best alpha, doesn't notice that (1/3)

(2/3) Peter got the money for the hospital bills and not the hospital anymore and her calls are so unfrequent that their is always a missunderstanding between hospital and Laura. She and Derek are coming to BH bc Stiles won a big competition and the article has a pic of Stiles&Peter&Sheriff. She is angry hat Peter didn’t come to her, his alpha. She confronts him in BH,

(3/3) but Peter closes his door in her face and she demands respect bc she is the alpha. The door opens again and the Sheriff is standing there saying as Peter’s alpha he will talk to her. Peter is standing smirking behind him and young teen Stiles asks who this people are.


I can get behind all this! 

Remember, it is Asexual Awareness Week.

This means that unlike usual, we are visible to the mortal/human eye and can be caught. As such we recommend traditional avoidance techniques used by our brethren cryptids. Commonly preferred techniques include:

-Remain constantly moving at high speeds to create blur in photographs

-Spending time in unfrequented areas such as the deep ocean or the black heart of an ancient forest

-disguise yourself: since it is close to Halloween you can easily go for a garden-variety disguise such as “sexy nurse” or “grim reaper” or build something yourself to confuse the common public

-Refuge in Audacity: my personally preferred tactic, the more obvious and hammy you are about your status, the less people will believe you, so be bold, be vocal, be you.

When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard Grace Poole’s laugh: the same peal, the same low, slow ha! ha! which, when first heard, had thrilled me: I heard, too, her eccentric murmurs; stranger than her laugh.  There were days when she was quite silent; but there were others when I could not account for the sound she made.
—  Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
Sweet Surprises

Lonely. Adjective. 1. affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome. 2. destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support. 3. lone; solitary; without company; companionless 4. remote from places of human habitation; desolate; unfrequented; bleak.

You. But also, seemingly, Niall.

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Today’s memory: Family reunion, you’re all stuffed in one house, you’ve tried to hide your cup behind picture frames in unfrequented corners of the house because you’re still using it, but it will inevitably end up moved to the sink by a relative possessed by the mysterious cleaning force anyway.

Untrodden Peaks and Unfrequented Valleys. Amelia B. Edwards. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1890.

In this book, Edwards and her friend and companion, L., travel from Southern Italy, having over-wintered there, to visit the Dolomite district. Her chatty style, dry sense of humor, accuracy of facts, and sympathy for humanity set her works apart. The slice of Victorian British life presented is quite captivating.

Raksasha Lauri-Lirieh, as “Rover”.

While Empress(still not a confirmed name) is Imp’s parallel counterpart, Sasha is another Triffid from parallel universe like Carmen.

With rather disrespectful and pessimistic nature, he used to be a space pirate but now he’s just traveling through unfrequented ruins with his landing craft, scavenging curios for sale.

Great adaptability aside, Sasha has no special powers. Instead he utilizes his keen intuition and high-tech gears he got from the former job.