Tag: love

I’m not a sub so my question is coming from that direction. So all that I’ve seen, it looks like there’s a lot of daily repetition in the relationship. Say good morning a certain way, check in a certain way, report meals, all of that. So I guess what I’m wondering is, doesn’t the sub find that constant sameness boring? Not judging just curious.

nihilismpastry:

submissive-seeking:

beinghisgoodgirl:

instructor144:

This is actually a great question. I’m glad you pointed out you are not a submissive, as it makes answering easier. What you would see as “boring,” a submissive’s brain sees as “comforting,” “reliable,” “steady,” “predictable,” and “stable.” The submissive brain craves those things in their daily lives. When a submissive says “Good morning, Daddy/Sir/Master” and receives the same response back from their Dom every day; when they send “Arrived safe at X” and receive the same response at every check-in; when they say “Good night, Sir/Master/Daddy” and they get the same response (everything from tucks to “Sleep well”) …. these are the things that give the submissive’s life the same kind of predictability they get from knowing that the sun is going to rise every morning. They are comforted by the fact that, no matter what kind of random shit the day throws at them, those things are going to be there, they’re going to be predictable, and they’re going to be a part of their life every single day.

Submissive Followers, chime in here with your thoughts!

I agree. There’s a structure that is comfortable. And I enjoy knowing what the expectations are.

Fire isn’t boring.
Panic and chaos aren’t boring either.
A racing mind trying to figure out what the fuck will please Him, trying to guess what He wants me to do isn’t boring.

Reminds me of the ancient Chinese curse:
May you live in interesting times ….

Sure, it may get boring, maybe even inane. But so does brushing and flossing your teeth, or eating right, or going to work, etc…

But all are things you NEED.

If not boring is the standard of success, then Charlie Sheen is definitely “WINNING!!!“

So ya @instructor144, I’ll take boring please.

What you call sameness I call security. I HATE surprises and I love structure. I don’t like a wrench thrown in my structure, because I then panic and get really pissy. I like knowing that someone has everything thought out, and can catch variables of ‘what if x happens, what will she be told to do for this.’

But, different strokes for different folks I guess. 

My husband and I switch roles almost seamlessly at this point. He enjoys calling me Mommy and the fact that I handle all finances and organization as seamlessly as one can in these times. I enjoy calling him Daddy for the emotional support and stability that comes with knowing he’ll always be there for me.

Dom/sub, marriage, partnership… it all requires a balance. Spontaneous date nights become more special because of routine. Presents become more special because of daily expected services.

I call it serene stability with bursts of unfiltered joy that happen in random little improvisations of the routine.

Nothing ever gets boring as long as you’re always thinking about it and present within those moments.

nihilismpastry:

tiffanygladiator:

semicolonthefifth:

thecavenest:

sakyubaso:

Do any of you know about that one painting with Aphrodite being born out of lava with a black swan by her side or did i completely hallucinate that? Been searching for a while but i can’t find it for shit.

I tried googling that description but no luck either, anyone might know what painting this might be (or if it does exist? cause it sounds sick lol)

It took a bit of googling magic, but I think I’ve found it.

This is “Kindled” by Laura K. Cannon, which is part of her portfolio that can be found here: http://navate.com/2wk6im1sartc92iwza7il07bxq2mk5

Is this what you were looking for? @sakyubaso

I’m in love.

@darkcrystaldemon

Thanks for sharing the love, @nihilismpastry.

Hey. I wanted to ask your advice/thoughts on this, if you don’t mind. You always have really interesting and thoughtful insights to share. I’ve been on various dating websites for about six months now, but never met anyone I was really attracted to and liked as a person. But for about a week, I’ve been talking to a guy on OKC who is super cute, very sweet, and into the same kinks as I am… the catch is that I’m 20, and he’s 40. I really like him, but I’m afraid that he’s taking advantage (1/2)

“(2/2) of me because of my age, or if he’s not, what my family and friends would think of the relationship. Do you have any advice or thoughts about this? Thanks so much”

Ok… I see this from a lot of different sides… and also recognize that I am still blind. Every individual relationship is different. So my short answer is “You won’t know until you try. Just be safe.”

My long answer is under the cut.

Age difference is a tricky thing sometimes. You see the world differently on so many levels. Different upbringing, different culture… I mean, you’re 20 so your legit memories are practically post 9-11. Whereas growing up in the 80s was such a different time for parenting and education. – I say this also as someone who grew up in the 90s and still misses half the references my husband makes who grew up in the 80s. (He’s 8 years older than me)

If any of my peers tell me they’re dating anyone under the age of 25, my response is, “You’re going to be a great memory for them. Have fun!” Because, yeah, statistically it’s probably not going to work out, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make great memories together. Not every relationship has to end in marriage, kids, and a home to be considered “successful.” So great relationships just happen and end. Two ships crossing paths and sailing together for a time, sharing adventures.

There is a scientific reason it usually doesn’t usually work out. It’s that biologically you don’t get complete control of your impulses until 23-25. So under 25 is more likely to change their minds, become dramatic over little things, cheat, or spontaneously decide to move across the country or even world for a job or adventure.

This isn’t a criticism on you, personally, anon. You, of course, could be very developed in your impulse control.

However, this impulsive trait is usually incredibly attractive to older people. Because let me tell you, the fact that you’re even asking about all this when it’s only been a week… ok. Let me stop for a second and let me try to explain this: A week means nothing to a 40 year old. By 40, a week goes by like that first sip of water you have at the beginning of a meal. The appeal of your youth is that your energy and immediacy will open their eyes to the fact that while they were taking one long sip, they could have been having 7 amazing meals.

The key, though, is that you do this naturally. It comes with being 20. You have endless potential and life ahead of you. At 40, a person really has to work for it. Their body is… tired (but experienced!!! And some would say “more efficient!”) and their perspective of time has grown to see larger, more patient pictures (hopefully).

Of course, I can see the allure of a stable 40 year old – less impulsive which makes them pretty dependable, honest, and they know who and what they are. There’s no guessing. You don’t date 40 and think “I can change…” No. stop. They will not change. Whatever they are doing. Whoever they are. That’s pretty much them. Love them as they are or walk away.

Now if we’re talking unstable 40… I’d hesitate with that one. There’s a reason they’re single, unemployed/tentatively employed, or still figuring out their life. Look for warning signs: are they quick to anger? Do they have really bad habits like an addiction or uncleanliness? (Because, seriously, if you can’t take care of yourself at 40, you can’t take care of anyone else). Are they divorced? Widowed? Or have they had a series of bad relationships that just never work out? Watch out if they talk about those relationships and don’t give any self-reflection on their role in it not working out. If they can’t find any fault in themselves, walk away. It’ll save you from being the next “bitch” on their list of exes. Also look out for abusive behavior whether it be emotional, physical or mental… they won’t start showing those things until they officially start seeing you as “theirs.”

Now let’s say they’re a stable 40 and you start dating, who cares what your family/friends think? Just be happy. And if you can’t, and others opinions can sway your relationship, you aren’t emotionally ready for that relationship. And that’s ok. There’s nothing wrong with admitting your limits.

The last thing I’ll say is to take your time. Enjoy dating… talking… spending time together. And be sure not to speed up your time table for theirs. You should never do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And, on the other side of the spectrum, if the 40 year old isn’t pressuring anything and is just a free spirit, keep that in mind too. Because if your future plan is to one day settle down and have kids or something… don’t expect them to change into that. They will probably never change. Accept them for who they are or walk away if it doesn’t fit your goals.

But in the end, just be happy. Even at the same age, you never know if a relationship is going to work until you give it a whirl.

Take care. And in the end, fuck the odds and seize life. You never know what your story will be until after you write it.

Motherhood

Being a mom is full of so many big feelings that you cry as they burst out of you all at once.

In truth, I never thought much about being a baby and what my parents had to go through to keep me alive and healthy. I truly had no idea, and I find that having a child has brought me closer to my parents. We now share an understanding of this absolute love that you endeavor to take on as a parent – knowing your child may never understand the scope of it.

Tonight I’ve watched my daughter vascillate between having her first real giggle to crying for growing pains she cannot explain. We drop everything to listen to her cries. We cuddle her and kiss her forehead. We give her gas drops for her tummy. We sing. We try to distract her from the aches we can’t change. We rejoice in great victorious cheers if we get her to smile. Warm baths. Warm bottle. Warm body to drink from the breast of she feels like it. The rest of our life – phones, media, none of it exists when our daughter needs comfort. She’s so vulnerable. All she has is us. You feel the weight of that fact every moment.

Being a parent means staying up some nights with your hand on your daughter’s chest as she squirms in her sleep from gas or growing stretches. You don’t know why you put your hand there. Instinct tells you it’s right. And then she calms down, places her little hand on yours, and you melt in happiness that this time you were right and it worked.

Being a parent means you spend your day changing from one 15 minute activity to the next until your child is exhausted and finally takes a nap. Then you battle with taking a nap with them or cleaning the house or doing something for yourself – like writing. And much of the time you just lay there and put your hand on their stomach every five minutes to make sure they haven’t suddenly stopped breathing.

Being a parent means you’re always wondering if you’re doing it right. It means I’ve google searched symptoms, mental leaps, diets, exercise, education, and understanding of what she’s actually going through. I had a thermometer by the bed to check her ever changing temperature. Socks? No socks? How much spit up is okay? How long can a baby go without pooping? Are hiccups normal? Can she see color?

Parenthood means I get excited when I realize she can now see two feet in front of her instead of just one. It’s special moments like after the first month of feeding, pooping, and sleeping… she really looked at my face and recognized that I was the face to that voice she’s been hearing, the body she’s been smelling, the food she’s been getting. She recognized me for who I was to her and the love she showed me… that smile on her face…

I’m tearing up knowing I must have shown that same face to my mom. I must have. But how long did it take for me to forget that love and appreciation? How long before I yelled “No!” or told her I hated her? Because we know children will do that. Even the best parents are going to hear it. One day my daughter is going to tell me she hates me – but somewhere very deep in her subconscious she’ll know I will never hate her and she will always have a home with me. And though her anger will be valid and real, it won’t change the bond we have. It won’t change this love because it is built into the fabric of who we both are.

And that’s what I mean when I say I’ve reconnected with my parents. I’ve found that old fabric… it has tatters and stains, but it’s still there. I regained that memory of love while looking in my daughter’s eyes. And I know my mother she sat here 31 years ago and looked down at me looking at her for the first time and smiling in thanks.

And we loved each other so completely.

And it is unconditional.

Petty arguments between friends – don’t matter. Sleepless nights – don’t matter. Being late – no longer matters.

She matters.

She is my child.

She is mine… and she is also so fully herself. She is not a pet. Not an object to keep on the shelf. She is not a static being.

I have no idea what kind of person she will grow up to be. I have no idea how far she’ll run from me as she figures out herself and her life.

I have no idea how long her life will be… the dangers of this world have become so frightening.

But I know I’ll always be here for her. No matter where she goes or what she does… I’m here.

Because I’m her mother and she’s my child.

By the Stars, this love is so overwhelming.

When I was young(er), I used to fall in love quite easily. Well, I say love, but it wasn’t. My head was filled with tales and stories of true love, and I felt that I had to find The One. Even as early as preschool XD I was a foolish child, and many of the memories of my pursuits of boys now cause me to groan. I had my first kiss in kindergarten, and the memory now causes me shame, because I did it to a boy I liked on a dare, against his will. ~ Part 1

“I wish I hadn’t done so, since it made something that might have been special into something awful. I feel bad for how I harassed that boy so. I remember his name still though. And I hope I never run into him. Many boys that I pursued in the ‘name of love’ I had harassed, unable to see past my infatuation to the pain and embarrassment I was causing them. At least I know better now. ~ Part 2/2”

The hardest lesson of Love is how to do it. It took me until my now husband for me to really feel like I understand Love in a complete sense.

I don’t want to diminish the feeling of love that is found in youthful ignorance. I know my daughter will go through the whole messy array of loves, and I don’t want to belittle what she will feel so strongly even if it’s mostly possessive or without a sense of responsibility or lust over logic inspired… incomplete love. That’s what I think of my past relationships. Love that’s rooted in a person or people who still aren’t complete within themselves. It’s nearly impossible to love someone fully when you’re still lost… or your partner still is.

But I think all those incomplete loves are necessary for growth into becoming that whole person. You don’t master any skill without practice, failure, and learning from both.

– And not that my opinion matters, but I think you must be a very strong person to look back and recognize mistakes. Try not to be too harsh on a younger person who learned their actions from media and people who may not have been as conscious about teaching consent and what consent looks like. I look back at anime and manga I used to love and… I’ve gotten rid of them, especially many of the old school yaoi that has a ridiculous amount of “no means yes” lessons when it comes to closeted homosexuals. It pales my own face when I think of how they influenced my own actions and thoughts on love. But we have so many teachers in this world … and we grow … and we learn. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you met that boy now and were able to apologize and let the past rest. Maybe? But what do I know? It’s your life and you know it better than anyone. And judging by your ask, you’re already able to do some solid self-reflection which only means you’ll continue to grow in awesomeness as you move forward and learn from each encounter ^_^

Anyway, I hope you and anyone reading this is having a wonderful night. Free for love, lust, or whatever you fancy. 💜

Heart Beat

When you’re pregnant, you hear your heart a lot. No, not a metaphor – literally. Your heart pumps for two and you feel it. Laying down, your heart beats like you’re running a marathon – only, you’re not sweating or out of breath. You’re just… building a person.

I always heard a lot about the baby’s heart beat when it came to pregnancy. I never thought about the mother’s.

This heart beat – a pounding in your chest – without any other stimulus, your mind wonders to all the assorted times it’s felt this way.

In these moments I’m falling in love… having the biggest fight of my life… skydiving… orgasming… getting in a car crash… at the top of a roller coaster… speaking at a funeral… getting married… dancing with my first love… conceiving this child…

In the dark, underneath this beat, I’m my entire life. Everything that has lead me to this moment. My heart beats. Is it telling these tales to my child right now? Is that why a drum beat can elicit so many emotions at once? Did our mothers teach us about life through their veins long before we were even speaking. And is my heart beat now telling more than my own story to this child?

The beat of life – that’s a mother’s heart beat – or maybe, it’s always been my heart beat. It just took me until now to realize the history held within it.

The history of life… intense emotions, unforgettable moments… an artist’s inspiration. I write in heart beats. Others play… draw… sing… maybe there’s something to the phrase “I’ve found my rhythm” when everything falls into place.

But right now, I just wanted to write this down and hope to remind myself of moments like these when my heart beats fiercely to create this person.

It’s the most primal prayer, a deep chant in my body that says, “Live. And live intensely.”

Skeleton Lover

*insert favorite skeleton* x reader, just a little day dream full of fluff and exploration

Rough bone under your finger tips. He shivers with your touch. You watch his mouth open just slightly in a quiet moan as you caress the curves of his sternum, fused in sensitive lumps at the tips of his ribs.

His eye sockets close and his fingers squeeze your sides, pulling you closer, as you continue to explore his rib cage and enjoy the feeling of his bones. Circling them between your fingers and thumb, you wrap you hand around a thick rib.

His eyes shoot open. His hip bones jutting against your waist. He stretches his neck, trying to reach his lips to yours, but you dodge his advance and shake your head.

“Nah-huh, I control the speed this time,” you smirk under his pained gaze.

He’s enthralling naked. Bare bones that still mystify you with their ability to move… your ability to see past them to the sheets below. And yet magic gave them strength enough to pick you up and throw you on the bed earlier. You trace the curve of the bones in his arms like deep grooves of muscles, thick, hard, and strong.

He could pin you down right now. Have his way with you like he’s done before, but his restraint is admirable. You can feel him holding back, but failing to entirely control himself. Each minute your bodies turn, your back getting pushed against the mattress… his body hovering over yours, still clothed.

You stop his wandering fingers, trying to sneak up your shirt. You interlace his bones with yours. Before tonight, his fingers were the bones you were most familiar with. You knew every bump and callous; the way they felt against your skin. He loved your skin, your softness, your curves. He marveled at the way your body framed the bones he couldn’t reach.

Now it is your turn to explore. You run your bare foot up the calf bones of his leg. He tries to release his hands from yours, but you hold him tight as you stroke your leg against his. Your skirt falling to your waist, allowing your bare skin to caress each bone. Your toes play in the space between his calf bones and he hisses, bringing his weight over your legs to pin them to the bed.

He’s losing his composure, grinding against the folds of your shirt, the glow of his magic beginning to form at his pelvis and hardening into a penis already dripping from your ministrations.

He pins your hands down on either side of your head and pushes his forehead against yours. He bends his head down further to kiss you, but you turn your head at the last minute, his skull lips and teeth bumping against your cheek.

You kiss his hand instead and then take more of his bone in your mouth, sucking on his thumb and enjoying the taste of him. You tongue teases inside his joints as your now free hand traces the ridges of his spine.

It takes both your hands to cover just one of his thick spinal disks. You rub the bone between your palms and lose control of his hands as he cradles your face and finally kisses you. All of his pent up emotion falls through his mouth into yours.

You loop your fingers in the handles of his pelvic bone as he hooks his fingers around the hem of your shirt. Within moments your top is gone, your bra undone and being flown across the room as he claims your breasts in reverent joy and a deep sigh of relief.

He grinds himself against you harder, but you let him whimper against your skirt. His hands not wanting to leave your breasts, you take the time to feel within the deep grooves of his pelvis. Your caresses match his rhythm. The warmth of his magic vibrates as you slide down to his front, but avoid touching anything that isn’t bone.

He moans into your mouth, squeezing your nipples and pushing you further into the mattress. You lose yourself in the sensation of his bone pushing into the meat of your body, his penis rubbing against your clit through your skirt.

He smiles against your lips as you pull him against you into a familiar rhythm, your thighs rising around him. Your eyes lock with his as he slides his hands to your waist and rips away the fabric of your skirt away. You’d mourn the loss of clothing later, your mind consumed by the warmth of his magic, hard against your skin and slick with his desire. It’s an intoxicating feeling under an equally intense hunger in his gaze as your hips rise obediently in his hands.

He slides himself inside you, the familiar shape of his unforgiving pelvic bone bruising the inside of your thighs as he sheaths himself within you.

You both pause in that moment, breath catching on each other’s lips, your chest pressed against his ribs, his magic burning inside you, claiming you as you hug him within you, your arms and legs wrapped around him, your monster, your lover, your friend.

Neither of you say a word, but you can hear it: I love you.

He kisses you like the first time, long, savoring your mouth as he pulls himself out and then inside you again. Your mind reels in orgasm from the fullness… his magic intensifying the pleasure within you as he fills every part of you.

He cums in a burst that spills from inside you, but he doesn’t leave his place within you. You feel every bone of his on top of you.

He nozzles your neck and whispers, “I just want to stay inside you.”

You hum in agreement, still finding your breath. You feel him grow within you and gasp at the sensation. “Again?”

“Again.”