ftloas:

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youmakemeneedyou:

From Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, 18th century Japan

I used to know someone who really understood this. She never worried about the rain.

(via herliege)

rolledtrousers:

Alley Cats

I want this to feel like backalley sex, where every moan is vying for airspace with the screech of a cat, and the relentless hubbub of city washing by in waves of pedestrians and traffic. I want you to hear the wail of the siren hit on the offbeat before my hand connects on the on. 

It’s the grime on my hands as they slip over your porcelain skin, marring the surface of it, smearing filth onto your thigh as I cut a swathe through your mind. Pay no attention to the soft light against the curtain; there’s nothing comforting about this room, not with me in it. I want you to feel like there’s graffiti on the duvet, rubbing paint off against your stomach. 

You shouldn’t feel clean. Cleanliness is not for the likes of you, it’s not on the list of priorities. You’re dirty on the inside, and I’m going to make you feel unwashed on the out. Sweat and sex covering you in a sheen, until you’re too exhausted to do anything but calcify, too tired to think of anything but a shower. Too ashamed for anything but a soak. 

This isn’t about tearing you down so you can build yourself back up. This is about peeling back the layers until there’s nothing left but you, shivering in a pile of yourself, all the scuffed shreds of your self construction a sprinkled halo on the ground. But you’re no angel, you dirty little thing. 

You’re mine. 

herliege:

This is what these ties are for. To provide a safe haven, a space to be, a place at his feet where she may be free to offer her surrender and accept his rule. To wrap her up in trust until she feels safe enough to let go completely and be her true self.

To make absolutely sure that net is strong enough.

M. / Her Liege

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be-pleasing-always:

Slowly he secured her trust, spun the strongest safety net, the warmest blanket. She lingered, the rope caressing and intoxicating, and rested safely in the ties that bind.

~ cat / be-pleasing-always

photograph: Frank Petter / Lazarus Walking | rope by Elmerald

rolledtrousers:

Villainy

You would make a villain of me. With your soft smiles, and quick eyes, mischief flitting from one iris to another, pupils dilating ever so slightly as you shiver with the anticipated thrill of it all. You ape innocence like a half remembered thought, the impression of an impression that you once saw performed by a friend who’d just come from a comedy club, the echo of the comedian resting poorly on their unfamiliar features. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re doing it to me. 

It’s only fair; I made you the victim, after all. At your behest, but still mine were the actions, the intent. I drove you to your knees, had you begging out with that tortured mixture of lust and desperation, both of them seeming so similar when you’re on the brink of whatever this is. You adopted this role because it’s a fantasy, and anything that could bring you closer to that latent desire was fair game. 

But what of me, what of the ways my personality is perverted, elevated with wickedness, as my hand, my words, rain down on you with practiced ease. I push myself up on your shoulders, driving you down into the ground, until the light is behind me and there’s just a terrible silhouette of a man, a man who could do these things and live with himself. I lose myself in that outline, because I’d rather not be found. 

You make me a villain, but that’s what I wanted to be. That’s where my fantasy lies, as morally apposite as that might be. We create our demons, just so that they can chase one another like dogs. 

rolledtrousers:

Dogs Chasing Cars

I’m not supposed to enjoy the chase this much. That’s the sign of a temperament, an inclination, a proclivity towards the act, the thrill, the adrenaline hit that I get when I’m in pursuit. That’s the sign of someone who won’t be satisfied when they catch the object of their desire, when I’ve finally got you. I’ll just go searching again. 

But it courses through my veins, when I’m after you. It’s an electric thrill that starts in my chest and rockets down my fingers, to every word that I type, up to my lips, making them fuzz, to every word that I whisper in your ear. The world is vivid, when I haven’t quite got you yet. It feels like I’m on edge, tracking every single detail of every single scene, for the one thing that will make you mine. 

The trick, then, isn’t to figure out a way to lock myself down, make me not want to chase any more, geld myself so that the urge to run doesn’t make my leg twitch when I’m asleep. 

No, the trick is to never let me stop running. I haven’t got you until you’re down and begging, every piece of yourself offered up on a platter. The girl that always has something left, not held back but just further in, is the one that will keep the electric running over my skin,every hair raised and on edge. A bottomless depth of a person, a midnight blue. 

jtotheizzoe:

This triple gear is a real thing, and thanks to some intricate math and the advent of 3-D printing, it exists. Before this, at least as far as I can tell, a triple-meshed gear required one of the gears to turn in the opposite direction as the other two. That is no longer the case.

I can’t for the life of me imagine what this would be used in, but hey … at least we have it now. Get to designing!

(via henryseg on Shapeways)