#Branch always found pleasure in beating Creek

[mmodiately]

Trolls in the subway.

I think they don't really like each other, HEHEHE

I love this everlasting rivalry>:)

[snelbz]

Reckoning and Retribution {5}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, House of Earth and Blood, & Throne of Glass Crossover, Western AU fanfiction.

Based on a prompt sent in for the 4k follower contest {winner}, from Anonymous: “Ok hear me out: WILD WEST AU CROSSOVER”

A/N: Another chapter written with my love, @tacmc​.

Reckoning and Retribution Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

There weren’t many days Feyre didn’t have to be at the saloon, but even when she did, she tried to spend as much time as she could with her sisters. Nesta had left to run a few errands  before she had to report in to Maeve and she was sitting out back with Elain as she clipped the excess branches off of her rose bushes.

“I’ve never understood how you were able to make such beautiful flowers out of nothing but dust,” she said, gently brushing her finger over a soft petal.

Elain looked thoughtfully at the rose bush she was tending to. “I like to think we were all born with certain gifts. Perhaps this was mine.”

“Agreed,” Feyre replied, gently. “You seem happy this morning.”

“Shouldn’t I be happy?” Elain followed.

Feyre huffed a laugh. “You should, but I suppose I was wondering why. You keep humming a little song as you work. You never hum.”

Elain was quiet for a moment. “What is it you know of the new sheriff?”

“The new sheriff?” Feyre repeated. “Sheriff Whitethorn?”

“Yes,” she said, carefully. “He’s a very kind man, don’t you think?”

Feyre was left staring at her sister’s back. “I guess so… I haven’t really had much time to get to know him, personally.”

Elain hummed contentedly and continued pruning the roses. Feyre waited for a moment and then crossed the garden to sit next to her sister. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Elain murmured, shrugging. She found a couple of roses that were just shy of blooming and clipped back the foliage around it.

Feyre watched her sister, narrowing her eyes. “You never were a good liar.” 

Elain’s cheeks turned pink. “I just...I find him rather handsome.”

Feyre blinked. “Handsome? Who?”

Elain cleared her throat before stating, quietly, “Sheriff Whitethorn.” 

“Sheriff Whitethorn?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?” Elain asked, with a shy giggle. 

“Yes, so I can make sense of the words coming from your mouth,” Feyre said, but her voice was light.

“He just…seems like a good man, and I might like to spend time with him,” Elain admitted.

Feyre raised an eyebrow, picking up the spare shears and beginning to prune the neighboring bush. “I wasn’t aware you two had spent enough time together to determine whether or not he was a good man.”

Pretending not to notice her sister’s obvious snooping, she admitted, “He came by while I was at Azriel’s yesterday.”

“What was he doing at Az’s?”

“Inquiring about the bodies, of course,” Elain said, wiping her dirty hands on the towel hanging from the apron she wore tied around her waist. She’d learned long ago that without both a towel and an apron, she was bound to stain all of her skirts with dust, dirt and other unsavory things as she worked.

Feyre nodded, and asked a moment later, “And what did Azriel think of your interaction?”

With a shrug, Elain said, “He doesn’t know. He wasn’t there when the sheriff arrived. I answered what questions I could for him, though.”

After a beat of silence, Elain looked over to her sister. She was staring at her, chewing on her full bottom lip. “I don’t care for that look,” Elain murmured. “What?”

“Well,” Feyre asked, gently. “What about Azriel?”

Elain sighed. “What about him?”

“We all thought the two of you would end up married one day,” Feyre replied.

If Elain admitted it to herself, she thought they would have, too, but it seemed after years, Azriel either didn’t have the feelings whe thought he’d had or he wasn’t going to act on them. 

But the sheriff, he’d had no issue making his intentions clear.

“Azriel and I have always been close, but he has no intention of marrying me, Feyre,” Elain said, quietly, shaking her head. “If he intended to marry me, he would have by now.”

It was true. They were all beyond the age that their mother had hoped to see her daughters married.

Feyre opened her mouth to protest, but Elain charged on. “I admire Azriel, greatly, but perhaps he is not meant to be my husband, but only a great friend.” 

“And Sheriff Whitethorn is?” Feyre pressed.

Elain sighed, exasperated. “I am only saying that I would not protest to get to know him more. He is handsome, he is kind, he can surely protect me. I cannot stay in this house forever, Feyre. I want to be a wife. I want to be a mother.” 

Feyre couldn’t fault her for those wishes, she, too, wanted that one day. She just wasn’t sure if it would be in Rose Creek. “Just…be careful, please. He may seem to be a good man, but we’ve really only just met him, Lainy. There may be skeletons in the closet we don’t know.”

Elain nodded, beginning to cut full roses from the bush. She pricked her finger on a thorn more than once, but she didn’t stop. The small hurt was a part of her everyday life now. “I understand that, and I will. Believe it or not, I can protect myself, you know?”

Feyre refrained from telling her that she’d never shot a gun, much less used it when she had to. Instead, she said, “He usually comes into the bar on Thursday nights. Just so you know.”

Elain’s eyes lit up, as she realized what day it is.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

It had been a long morning and Cassian was near his breaking point. He had no help, had delivered a stillborn calf in the middle of the night, and had one too many glasses from the saloon the night before, which resulted in a constant, pounding headache behind his eyes.

Now, he had spent his morning working his land beneath the warm sun.

He was tired, frustrated, and wanting another glass of ale to keep his hangover at bay. 

A neigh broke him out of his inward moping. As he looked over at his horse, he arched a brow. “Yes?”

The mare huffed, shaking its head.

“I don’t need a break, I’m just fine,” Cassian muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Besides, it’s your stall I’m improving.” 

The lock had broken days before, and although he was certain (insert horse’s name here) would never leave her master, he felt better when the gate was secure.

Horseshoes slowly clip-clopped in the dust before Cassian was nudged in the shoulder. With a sigh, he looked into the face of his old friend. “Fine. A short break, but only because you won’t take no for an answer.” 

The horse’s stall wasn’t far from Cassian’s house, so he left her there as he crossed the vast landscape to where his little home sat.

Only to find that he had guests. 

Guests that he wanted as far from his property as possible.

“Can I help y’all with something?” He asked, stopping by the small steps leading up to his front door.

The couple turned and Maeve Alastair and Erawan Black looked him over from the dusty hat atop his head to the old, muddy boots at his toes. They couldn’t have kept the sneers off of their faces if they’d really tried. Cairn, Maeve’s hired muscle, leaned against one of the pillars keeping his roof in place, whittling away at a chunk of wood in his hands.

“Mr. Nazari, I don’t know if we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction,” Maeve crooned stepping forward, holding her hand out. “I’m Maeve Alastair.”

Cassian knew her very well. No matter how much he disliked the woman standing in front of him, his manners won out. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, shaking her hand. He tipped his hat to her companion. He hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting either Erawan or Hybern Black, but Aelin’s words from the previous weeks rang in his head.

This is a lot of damage for a person to inflict. This is brutal.

Of course it is. Because it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to scare the shit out of you, Cash.

If Aelin was right, the Black brothers were trying to run him off of his land, land that his family had owned, worked, and poured their blood, sweat, and tears into for three generations.

Over his dead body, he thought.

“We’d like to discuss a business proposition with you,” Erawan said, stepping forward. “Do you have a moment to talk to us?”

No, he thought, I really don’t. But he sighed and said, “Sure, come on in.”

He stomped up the stairs and entered the home, one of the largest ones in the small town. They followed him, Cairn included. “Can I offer you anything to drink? I don’t have much, but…” He held up his hands, gesturing around to his barren kitchen. The house may have been large, but that didn’t mean it was filled.

“No, thank you,” Erawan replied, and when Maeve nor Cairn said nothing, Cassian assumed that Erawan was answering for all of them. “We won’t be taking up too much of your time.”

“Very well,” Cassian said, leaning up against the wall of his den. “How can I help you all?” 

“We’ve been admiring your land for a while now, Mr. Nazari,” Erawan continued, his voice laced with a compelling drawl. “You see, we’re trying to expand our businesses and feel your land would be of great value to us.” 

Cassian took a deep breath so that he wouldn’t seem too eager to shut them down. “And what business is it that you’re hoping to expand?”

Cassian was fully aware of Maeve’s business and wanted nothing to do with it. 

“Is it necessary for you to know such a thing?” Erawan asked. His voice was light, but his eyes were hard. “Surely you simply want our money and nothing more.”

“I do not want your money, Mr. Black,” Cassian replied, simply. “And, you cannot buy my land, it is not for sale.”

“You won’t even entertain our offer?” Maeve said, laughing softly. Cassian got the distinct impression their first tactic was kindness, their second akin to childish bullying, and the third…

Well, if Aelin was right, he knew what the third would be.

“There’s no price I can put on this land,” he said, simply. “This has been Nazari land as far back as I can remember, and it will remain Nazari land if I have anything to do with it.” Erawan opened his mouth to say something else, but Cassian cut him off. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if that is all your visit was in regards to, I’ve got a stillborn calf to bury.”

The sickly sweet smile on her face didn’t match Maeve’s reply at all. “That’s a shame.”

“We’ll be in touch, Cash,” Erawan said, with a tip of his black hat.

The fact that he was calling Cassian Cash had him thinking that Erawan had certainly done his research on the rancher before stepping onto his land. 

“We’ll be in touch,” Cassian agreed, and tipped his hat as Erawan and Maeve slowly turned toward the door and back out into the bright afternoon. 

As Maeve followed Erawan out the door, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Do consider our offer, Mr. Nazari. We will pay generously.” 

Cassian nodded but said no more as Erawan and Maeve trekked back toward their carriage. 

He waited for their companion to make his way toward the door, as well, but the large man remained where he stood, just inside of the entryway. 

“Your party is leaving,” Cassian said, meeting Cairn’s eyes. “I’m sure you’d rather ride with them back to town than walk.”

“And I’m sure you’d like a nice little wife to take care of this place,” he said, taking another chunk of the wood out with his knife. The blade was too sharp and too long to whittle, so he took the presence of the man and his blade as what they were: veiled attempts to threaten him. “Too bad she’s a whore.”

Cassian’s nostrils flared as he took a calming breath. It was the only reaction he allowed.

“Well, that and the fact that she has no idea you exist.” He moved toward the door, toward the still open carriage he could see through his kitchen window. “I’ve never had my fun with her, I just might have to. Unless, of course, you consider Ms. Alastair’s offer.”

Cassian let no indication of his utter rage show, although his blood was boiling within his veins. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lifted his chin as Cairn showed his unruly smile. “And you should know that I do not take well to threats, even if they’re pointless.”

“I can hold my own,” Cairn assured him. “I also keep my word, Mr. Nazari.” 

“I am going to politely ask you to leave my home,” Cassian said, trying to keep the growl from his voice. 

Cairn’s grin only widened, and it had Cassian sucking in a breath to keep himself calm.

“Very well,” Cairn said, at last. “Remember to consider Miss Alistair’s offer. I’ll come by in a few days to collect your final answer.”

“I’ve given you my answer, sir,” Cassian snapped.

The man tsk’ed a few times. “May want to reconsider that answer, then.”

Without another word, Cairn was out the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The town was as dusty and dry as Rhysand’s letter has made it out to be. Hypaxia was glad for the clouds that blocked out the sun as she stepped out of the carriage that had brought her from Lunathion.

It was a bustling town, at least at this hour, even though small. Much smaller than Hypaxia was used to.

It was a charming change of pace. 

“Pardon,” Hypoxia said, reaching out to the first person she saw. “Could you point me to the saloon?”

The woman turned around, eyeing Hypaxia curiously. “Who’s asking?” 

“I was walking there myself,” the woman said, smiling brightly.

Even though that smile sent a chill down Hypaxia’s spine. 

“Care to join me?” she asked. “Miss…” 

“Enador,” Hypaxia supplied. “Thank you...”

“Miss Alastair,” the woman supplied. “Follow me, Miss Enador.”

Hypaxia inclined her head, and after she asked her driver to bring her bags to the inn she was staying in, she was walking by Miss Alastair’s side down the dusty road. 

“What business do you have at the saloon, Miss Enador?” Miss Alastair asked. When Hypaxia didn’t answer, Maeve went on, “You see, Miss Enador, I know everyone in this town. And I know, for certain, that you have never visited this town before today. At least, not since I have lived here. So, I will ask, once more, what business do you have here, Miss Enador?”

Hypaxia lifted her chin. “I am a doctor.”

“A doctor,” she said, looking at her with a judgemental eye. “You’re far too pretty to be in the medical field.” Hypaxia blinked as they continued walking, not even sure what to say. She didn’t have time, as they approached the stairs of the saloon. Miss Alastair continued, “Even so, what business would the doctor have at the saloon, Miss Enador?”

“A friend of mine wrote to me and explained that he knows of a girl who’s in some trouble and thinks she might be pregnant,” she said, removing her hat, allowing her mess of dark curls to fall loose. “I have come to confirm that pregnancy and help the young woman in any way that I can.”

Maeve’s footsteps began to slow. “A pregnancy?” 

Hypaxia gave a curt nod.

“With one of the girls at the saloon?” Maeve pressed.

Hypaxia stopped in her tracks and turned to meet Maeve’s gaze. “Surely you understand that I should not be speaking with you about such matters, Miss. There is such a thing as doctor and patient confidentiality.” 

For a moment, Maeve said nothing. Her silence made Hypaxia nervous. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Miss Enador.”

Hypaxia laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “Excuse me?”

“I operate a business inside of these walls,” she said, walking past her, where she’d frozen by the doors. “In which case, I have the authority to bar entrance to whoever I wish from this establishment.”

With nothing to say, Hypaxia’s mouth fell open and she stared at the woman.

“Good day, Miss Enador. I hope you didn’t travel far just to waste your time.”

Entering the building, Maeve left her on the front porch and immediately found the eyes of the barmaid wiping glasses at one of the tables.

“Are you the little bitch who needs to mind her own business?” Maeve asked, pulling a cigarette from her purse and putting it between her lips.

Feyre lifted her chin. “Pardon?” 

Hypaxia stayed on the front porch, although she never entered the saloon. 

“Keep your eyes on the shit you’re cleaning,” Maeve snapped, lighting up her cigarette. 

Feyre’s eyes stayed in Maeve, her expression cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “I do a service to your sister by allowing her to stay in your house, stay with you and that other sister of yours, when you all pay nothing for it. Tamper in my business again, and you may not regret it, but pretty, little Nesta will.”

“Just as you have a right to stop interference in your business,” Hunt said, coming down the stairs in the corner, “I have a right to tell you not to threaten my barmaid.”

Maeve’s eyes burned as she watched him descend into the main hall of the saloon. “And may I ask what you were doing upstairs, Mr. Athalar? Dabbling on the side?”

“Bringing drinks to your girls,” Hunt corrected, coming to stand behind the bar, next to Feyre. “Figured they’d be thirsty after enduring hell all night.” When Maeve’s gaze turned darker, Hunt said, “Don’t worry. I left the beverages on the table in the hall. Didn’t want to…disrupt anything that may have gone on all night.”

The distaste in his voice was obvious. 

“You’ll watch yourself, too, Mr. Athalar,” Maeve spat. 

Hunt’s jaw locked, but he said no more.

It was Feyre who said, in a perfectly calm voice, “Can I get you something, Miss Alastair?” 

Maeve looked at them both for a long moment, taking a drag from her cigarette before slowly shaking her head. “Just stay out of my business, and we won’t have problems.” 

With that, Maeve was up the stairs, leaving the brutish bartender and his headstrong barmaid on the level below.

She had a problem she had to handle and she needed to handle it fast. Before that doctor returned and Athalar allowed her to see the girls. She knew they were to blame, had no reason to believe otherwise, and she needed to find out which of her girls was expecting an unfortunate surprise in about eight months.

Pulling out the monthly calendar she kept locked in her desk drawer, she ran through the list of her girls, seeing who had and hadn’t alerted her of their monthly cycle. The few days a month of their cycle, they were allowed to be off. Not only could there be sanitary issues, but it gave the girls a reason to inform her of its arrival. It gave them a reason to want to tell her.

Running her finger down the list, she narrowed it down to three possibilities. She wouldn’t confront them tonight. No, it was too close to the time they needed to get ready. She couldn’t deal with emotional distress. Tomorrow, though, they’d be making a trip to Morath and having this little problem...taken care of.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Rhysand was sitting in his office when Hypaxia stormed in, looking perplexed. 

He was instantly sitting up, surprised. “Miss Enador? I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”

“I arrived early,” she said, with a sigh. “And had an interesting greeting from, who I assume, is the owner of the brothel.”

Rhysand frowned as realization lit up his features. “Ah, Miss Alastair. Yes, she owns the brothel.”

Rhysand offered her the chair on the opposite side of her desk. She gladly accepted it. 

“We’ll talk business in a moment,” Rhysand promised, setting his cigar down on the tray on his desk. “First and foremost, how are you, old friend?”

“Old friend,” Hypaxia smiled, shaking her head. ‘That makes us sound old.” 

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “Not yet. Although, we’re getting there, I’m afraid.”

Hypaxia’s smile widened. “I’ve been good. Busy. And you?”

“Good, good,” he said, leaning back. “How is your mother? I last heard she was doing a bit better, after her fall.”

Her dark eyes fell slightly. “Unfortunately, she passed back in the spring. Nothing that I could do, with modern medicine, was helping. She eventually contacted a healer, from my grandfather’s tribe, but even her belief in the old spirits wasn’t enough to give her the strength to heal.”

Rhys leaned forward, his chair creaking under the weight. “I’m truly sorry, Pax. Your mother was a wonderful woman.”

“She was,” she said, returning his sad smile with a genuine one. “She was proud of what she’d accomplished in her life, bringing peace to these lands was something she was proud of to her last breath.”

Rhysand’s grandfather was the mayor of these lands when the Valbaran tribe attacked, claiming the land belonged to them, by right, passed down by late ancestors. The bloodshed lasted many years, and many lives were long on both sides, but Rhysand’s father, only months into his own tenure as mayor, before Hypaxia and Rhys were ever born, had signed a treaty with the leader of Valbarians, Hecuba Enador.

It was strenuous for a few years, small battles still breaking out here and there. Even some of their own friends and family had ended up in unexpected battles with Valbaran rebels during the war, taking advantage of their focus elsewhere. But finally, under Hecuba’s later rule, a true peace had fallen between them. Not a single attack had taken place in years. And thanks to Hypaxia’s graceful leadership once her mother passed, the calm seemed to be holding strong.

“I wish I could have seen her one last time,” he said, smiling fondly. “Said goodbye, pay my respects.”

Hypaxia only chuckled. “Don’t worry, Rhys. She knew you cared and spoke of you often.”

Rhysand nodded. He knew what it was like to have parents pass away. 

“So, when you sent me your letter, you said it was urgent,” Hypaxia began, the mood shifting.

Rhysand cleared his throat. “Yeah, one of Maeve’s girls believes she is with child. Maeve’s not exactly…forgiving when it comes to that.”

“Forgiving?” Hypaxia repeated. 

“She makes them terminate their pregnancies,” Rhysand said, looking down at his hands. “It’s only happened a handful of times, but it always ends up the same.”

“By the gods,” she breathed. “Does she give them a choice?”

Rhys said nothing, knowing that would be answer enough.

 “That’s just evil,” she whispered. Shaking her head, she asked, louder, “Who’s the girl? I didn’t give her a name, because I didn’t have one.”

“Thank the Cauldron for that,” he said. “That’s at least a blessing. She’ll have to figure it out for herself. Her name is Ansel. She’s one of Maeve’s busiest girls, in her early twenties. She has dark red hair, like wine.”

Nodding, Hypaxia pulled her notepad out and began writing the information down. “I intend to go back to the saloon tonight. If I see her, I’ll try to speak to her, discreetly. If I can’t, we’ll have to find a way to remove Maeve for about an hour tomorrow.”

Rhysand was nodding. “We can figure something out, if need be.”

Hypaxia drew in a deep breath. “So, this Maeve... Has she been in town long?”

“Too long,” Rhysand muttered. “Long enough to be successful and dangerous. She’s in cahoots with the Black brothers, both of whom have horrid reputations in this town and countless others. She’s bad news, Pax, so keep your wits about you when she’s around.” 

Hypaxia nodded, grimly. “I had a hunch she wasn’t exactly good news.”

“She has far too much power for someone in such a small town,” Rhys warned. “Dangerous connections and even more powerful allies.”

Again, Hypaxia nodded, understanding his worry. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Where is your doctor and apothecary? And the general store? I’ve got everything I’ll need, and a little extra, but more is always best.”

Rhysand cringed and his reply gave Hypaxia pause. “The general store is to the south, a couple streets over, the apothecary is next door.” He paused and cleared his throat. “We don’t have a doctor, or even a clinic in Rose Creek, I’m afraid.”

Hypaxia lifted a brow. “No doctor?” 

Rhysand shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Our last one left about five years ago. Been trying to get someone on and off to come here since I became mayor, just like my dad had to do when he was mayor. It’s like the position is cursed or something.” 

Hypaxia scoffed, good-humoredly. “Cursed? I don’t believe in curses.”

“You should,” Rhysand said, leaning back in his chair.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Rhys?” she asked, head tilted to the side. 

“I’m just telling you to keep your mind open,” he sang, and although his voice was light, he really meant it. 

Too much shit had gone on in the last few years for her not to be warned.

She kept her eyes on him for a minute longer than he felt comfortable with, as if she was stripping him bare, looking into his very soul, the good parts and the bad, and—

And then she nodded. “Very well, Rhysand, I’ll stay and open a practice here.”

He blinked, his violet eyes going wide. “You’ll what?’

“I’m going to stay and practice medicine for the people of Rose Creek.”

“Pax, we don’t have the money left in the budget for a salary—”

“I don’t want one, money is not an issue nor an incentive for me,” she interrupted. “I want to do this as a favor to a dear friend who reached out to me for help. I want to do this for Ansel, for her unborn child. I want to do this for the children that I’m sure you’ve lost to the illnesses that have ravaged our lands.” She saw a shadow pass over his eyes and knew she was correct. A tragedy for so many towns, so many families, who’d lost sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. It wasn’t always children, but they had been the one the virus clung to so desperately. She leaned forward and held out her hand. “I want to do this for the good people of Rose Creek. It’s the least they deserve, if what you’re implying is true, and there are dangers in these lands.”

“Trust me, old friend, when I tell you this,” Rhysand said, leaning forward and taking her outstretched hand. “I imply nothing and only speak of the truth.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The saloon was in full swing.

The girls were down on the floor, making their rounds, and Feyre was pouring the drinks.

Hunt was behind the bar, his eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for something to go wrong. 

Rowan had never found much comfort in the bar, but it was different when Elain Archeron walked through the bar. She was so poised, so wild-eyed and innocent, that Rowan couldn’t help but find her intriguing. 

No, she was not the typical woman that Rowan went for, but maybe that was the point. 

She was sitting with Azriel Draeven and Cash Nazari and a few of their friends, but she didn’t seem interested in their company in the slightest. Not when every time he’d glance her way, she was just doing the same. It became so frequent that he nearly blushed at one point. He’d almost  built up the nerve — and proper alcohol consumption — to go speak to her, when Lorcan dropped into the chair next to him.

“This place is ridiculous,” he muttered.

“What’s got you in bad spirits?” Rowan asked, taking a gulp from his class. 

“Who says I’m in bad spirits?” Lorcan mumbled. 

Rowan just snorted and shook his head. Since Lorcan’s arrival, he’d been helpful, but stubborn and grumpy as shit. As the years went on, that fact remained the same. 

Rowan looked back across the floor at Elain, who smiled and quickly looked away, cheeks tainted pink.

“Really?” Lorcan mumbled. “The tombstone gardener?” 

Rowan’s eyes snapped back to Lorcan. “Pardon?”

“She’s too…” Lorcan paused as he searched for the word. “Sweet,” he finally decided.

“She’s too sweet for me?” Rowan asked, trying to understand his friend, but also to not take offense at his words. He didn’t deserve sweet?

“You know what I mean,” Lorcan said, taking a swig from his glass, even though Rowan really didn’t. “Too proper, sophisticated.” Another drink and he added. “Polite. That’s not the type of woman we take to bed, Ro, and do you know why that is?”

Before Rowan could reply, Lorcan forged ahead. “It’s because she’s not looking for someone to warm her bed, Rowan. She’s looking for a husband, to settle down.”

For a moment, Rowan said nothing, pondered Lorcan’s words. Finally, he asked, “Who said that’s not what I’m looking for?”

Lorcan just stared at him for a long moment, his glass halfway to his mouth. “You want to settle down?”

“Is settling down so bad?” Rowan shot back.

“You want a wife?” He said the last word with a hefty amount of disdain. 

“There is nothing wrong with settling down, Lorcan,” Rowan sighed. “And, there is nothing wrong with marriage.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lorcan mumbled, downing the rest of his glass. 

Rowan wasn’t going to argue. Lorcan thrived on arguments. Instead, he nodded across the room. “What have you gathered about Arobynn Hammel?”

Lorcan’s gaze followed Rowan’s across the room. Arobynn Hammel sat at a table full of people, laughing and drinking and having a grand ole time. On his lap was a pretty one, one of Maeve’s girls.

Lysandra, Rowan knew.

He blew out a breath as he sat up, finally removing his hat and placing it on the table in front of them. “Not shit. The man’s secrets have secrets.” Rowan looked over at him. “I’ve sent a telegram to Fenrys, asking him to look through the criminal archives covering Adarlan, Prythian, Terrasen, and Lunathion back in Wendlyn. If we’re gonna find anything on him, it’ll be from there.”

Rowan leaned back in his chair and said, “I don’t need to know every detail, just the basics. Who he is, what does he do for a living, where’s he from?”

Lorcan was already shaking his head before Rowan had finished his sentence. “That’s what I’m saying, I haven’t been able to find out a damn thing, save for his name.”

Rowan slowly nodded, processing. “I don’t like how close to Maeve he is. I want to find out why he’s in Rose Creek.”

“Done,” Lorcan said, tipping his glass back and emptying his glass.

“You want another one?”

Lorcan turned, the pretty, little barmaid standing next to their table, a large stack of empty glasses in home hand, and empty plates in the other. He didn’t hide the way his eyes ran over her corset-less waist and loose hair. “Yes. One for him, as well.” He jerked his head towards Rowan.

“No,” Rowan said, shaking his head. “Just the one.”

Lorcan ignored him. “Two more and two shots of Busthead.”

She nodded and was off.

“Asshole,” Rowan muttered.

After dropping their drinks off, Feyre was back around the room, making her rounds. She, of course, checked on everybody, taking glasses and cleaning tables off, but she kept ending up at a certain table.

“Ruhn Danaan, I should have known,” Lorcan grumbled, looking over at the table where Feyre’s fingers were running down Ruhn’s forearm. 

“Have something against him?” Rowan muttered, fiddling with his new full glass, although he didn’t drink from it.

“He walks around this town with a piss-poor attitude,” Lorcan grumbled.

Rowan lifted a silver brow. “And that’s different from how you walk around...how?” 

A boot was reaching across beneath the table and hitting Rowan in the shin. 

Feyre was refilling Ruhn’s drink, yet again, even though he had hardly drunk out of it.

The spark in Danaan’s eyes was decidedly not one of purely friendship, so Feyre’s flirtatious touches were clearly welcome. An obnoxiously drunk man in the corner laughed, and Ruhn’s attention left the pretty barmaid and he turned. So did Lorcan.

Duke Perrington, one of the most foul men in Rose Creek, was among some of his friends, all four rip-roaring drunk, lost in the middle of a poker match. Ruhn’s younger sister sat on his lap, the empty look in her amber eyes one of practiced dedication. She’d been under Maeve’s control for years, Rowan and Lorcan had learned. She knew how to empty her mind and pretend she was anywhere but the present.

The men looked back to Danaan, at the barely concealed rage on his face. Rowan took a moment to look around the room.

Ruhn’s companions were with him, Aelin’s cousin as well, all still covered in the dirt of the mines from their day. Aelin was with Elide Lochan, not far from he and Lorcan, but the resident pain in his ass had not looked his way once.

No, she was focused solely on Arrobyn Hammel.

Arrobyn was still sitting with that stupid little grin on his lips, his arm slung around Lysandra’s waist. Lysandra laughed at every little thing that came from Arobynn’s mouth, although the light of her bright smile never reached her eyes. 

Rowan didn’t know the whole story, nor was he sure he wanted to. He had seen enough of Maeve’s business to know that he wanted to keep far away from it, for a handful of reasons, the fact that Maeve treated these girls like shit and kept them working under unforgivable debts at the top of the list. 

That, and the fact that Rowan believed that paying for sex, especially from someone who didn’t want it, was one of the worst things you could do as a man. 

He looked back to Aelin, at the hatred in her eyes. 

He looked back to Arobynn, and found the need to kick his ass.

“She’s looking at you again,” Lorcan muttered.

Rowan’s eyes shot across the room, to where Elain was watching him with the smallest of smiles.

Even though his own shy smirk was involuntary, Rowan wasn’t sure why his eyes fell back on Aelin Galathynius when Elain blushed and looked away.

Across the room, Feyre stopped at another table. Nesta was sitting on the lap of a young man, who barely looked old enough to be in the bar, much less to purchase time with one of Maeve’s girls. The older man, with him, sneered at Feyre as she paused in front of them. “Everyone okay over here?”

Neither of them noticed she wasn’t looking at them when she asked the questions. Nesta’s tight-lipped smile was her only reply.

“Another ale,” the man said, looking away and writing her off.

Walking away, Feyre said, “Of course,” and as she was heading back for the bar, an arm reached out and grabbed her.

A friend of Perrington’s, Cain, smirked up at her. He looked towards the bar, towards Hunt, and said, “Tell that dishonorable piece of shit behind the bar to get me a whiskey. On the house.”

From where Ansel stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders, her eyes went wide, but she trained her face back into the happy whore she was expected to be.

The man was drunk, she knew it, but she didn’t take kindly to people thinking less of Hunt for his past or the decisions he’d made. “Tell him yourself, if you’re so inclined,” she spat, ripping her arm from his hand.

He stood, grabbing her wrist again, and Feyre lifted her chin. “Aren’t you meant to be this bar’s little whore?”

Feyre’s body tensed, and those around them began to quiet, intrigued by the scene playing out. 

Ansel’s hand slid up Cain’s arm. “How about we go find a corner and I’ll ease your frustration.”

Feyre appreciated what she was trying to do, but she hated that Ansel had to do it. Hated men like the one before her, who paid for girls like Ansel who had zero control over their own lives. 

“Back off, whore, I’m taking care of an issue,” Cain said, shrugging Ansel off as he took a step closer to Feyre, whose wrist he still grasped. 

“If you wish to talk to the bartender, you may tell him yourself,” Feyre spat, repeating her words from before. “Now, let go of me.” 

“I will,” Cain said, his voice low. “Now, go tell your master to get me a whiskey. On. The. House.”

“You’re drunk,” Feyre hissed. “Careful or we’ll throw your ass out of here, and you won’t be welcomed back.”

Cain’s head tilted to the side. “Is that a threat?”

Feyre only smiled up at him. “It’s a promise.”

She tugged her arm back once more and began to walk away when blinding pain exploded all around her and Feyre cried out. Cain yanked her back by her hair, throwing her down on the floor  and stood over her. Heavy footsteps pounded on the wooden floor and Feyre looked up just in fine to see Ruhn’s fist connect with Cain’s jaw. The man must have been anticipating it, even though he did stumble backwards, because he was swinging back right after.

“Ruhn, stop!” Bryce cried, as Perrington was on his feet.

“Ruhn,” Feyre breathed, trying to scramble back up onto her feet.

A shot rang out, the bang! echoing in the room.

Everyone froze, the music died down., 

Feyre couldn’t breath, was terrified as she looked up at Ruhn. Ruhn, who was perfectly fine, who was looking down at Feyre with wide eyes, then back up again, across the saloon. 

Duke Perrington stood with his gun out.

The gun was pointed at Ruhn.

He must’ve been trying to break up the fight, Feyre thought, and as she looked back at Ruhn, she reexamined every inch of his body.

No. He was alright. He was safe.

A gasp broke Feyre out of her thoughts, and she looked over to Ansel.

Ansel, who brought her pale, porcelain hand to her ribs, where it was quickly coated in blood.

She fell to her knees, her breathing quick and shaking.

“Ansel, breathe,” Feyre said, hurrying to her side and catching her before she slumped to the floor. “Keep breathing.”

Someone screamed for a doctor and Rowan and Lorcan were already dragging Cain and Perrington away, Aelin hurrying over to drop in her knees beside Feyre.

Ansel’s breathing was becoming a wet rasp and her eyes were already fluttering shut.

“Ansel, honey, I need you to keep your eyes open,” Aelin said, softly smacking her cheek, trying to keep her awake. If she let her eyes fall shut, both women knew they wouldn’t open again.

With a hard swallow, Feyre knew the doctor someone was rushing to find would never make it in time. There was nothing to do to stop the death looming over them in that moment. Not only the death of an innocent girl who deserved better than this, but of the baby in her womb.

[puckinghell]

Wanting Is Enough | Leon Draisaitl

Summary: seven // august by Taylor Swift Words: 2k Note: I was just minding my own business, thinking I wasn’t gonna bother with the folklore project anymore, when someone asked if I would write for Leon. Does this answer your question? Not proofread, we die like men. 

--

Leon remembers you.

Sure, it’s a little fuzzy around the edges, the way memories will get when they’re stored away for so long. He was only seven when he knew you, and the storyline has become frazzled; he doesn’t always remember your face exactly, and he knows your name only because his mom told him.

He still remembers he loved you, though. Thinks he loves you still, now.

He remembers the swing over the creek. It had felt like a million feet in the sky, back then, but looking back it was only a tiny swing built with ropes and planks found at random sheds around the neighborhood. He doesn’t know how many of the neighbor’s kids had helped built it, but he remembers how you used to giggle as you swung across the creek.

You loved the creek, told him time and time again how it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Sometimes, you said it was the only beautiful thing in the world, and that’s where Leon would disagree.

After all, you were beautiful, too.

You never jumped into the water, always too scared, even though he used to tell you it’d be fine.

“I wouldn’t let anything hurt you,” he said, and your smile was always soft.

“I know. Still not jumping.”

There were other things you would trust him to protect you from, though.

“I think your house is haunted,” Leon said, wrapping his small arms around your tiny body. You were shivering a little, tears streaking down your face. “That’s why your dad is always mad.”

Your dad would scream all the time, so loudly Leon could hear it even from his house. You lived next to him but the houses weren’t that close together, and Leon didn’t think it was normal that he could hear.

His mom would tell him to ignore it, but how could he? If your dad was screaming, that meant you were crying, Leon had learned, and if you were crying he couldn’t just do nothing.

So he climbed through your window.

It wasn’t easy but Leon was strong for his age and there was a big oak tree next to your house that could be used as a ladder if only he managed to jump high enough the reach the first branch.

Somehow he managed to get into your room and you’d ran to him immediately, throwing yourself at him until he hugged you tight.

Even at that age, there was nothing Leon hated more than to see you cry.

“You should come live with me,” Leon mumbled into your ear. “We can be pirates, and then you won’t have to cry.”

“If I go live with you, would I learn how to skate?” you sniffed in response. You’d been bugging Leon about teaching you how to skate, because he was so good at it and you loved watching him fly across the ice.

He always looked so free, and you longed to feel that type of freedom in the form of the icy wind on your face.

Suddenly, before Leon could have answered, another thought occurred to you.

“Your parents wouldn’t want me to live with you.”

Leon shrugged. “You can hide in the closet whenever they come into my bedroom. Or you could pack your dolls and a sweater and we’ll move to India forever.”

Of course neither of these options were possible, but at age seven, it feels like everything in the world is a possibility if you just want it hard enough.

You had never wanted anything more.

“Why India?” you questioned.

Leon noticed your breathing had calmed down while talking to him, and you weren’t crying anymore. Even for that reason alone, he started talking more; about your neighbor across the street who came from India and gave you candy all the time, about his white family dog that had rolled through the freshly mowed grass and ended up colored key lime green, about pirates and princesses and a talking mouse.

He made up stories until you fell asleep, and then he wondered if one day, the story of you two would become a story that people told each other, too. He liked the thought of that: your love would last until nobody told your story anymore.

And Leon wanted your love to last forever.

--

But things don’t usually go the way you want them to.

--

The August heat is sweltering, sticky and heavy the way only August can be. It’s not like that in July, not in Germany, where July still holds a hint of spring, with crispy mornings and darkness setting early evening. In September, the leaves will change color and the air will hold the smell of rain, but in August, there’s just the heat.

“I can’t believe you canceled on me for him.” Your best friend’s voice doesn’t sound upset per se, but it sounds disbelieving. To be fair, it’s really not something you would normally do.

But.

Leon is lying face down in the grass, tiny droplets of sweat forming onto the tanned skin of his back where his spine dips. You can’t imagine it’s comfortable to have the grass pressing into his face, even though it was freshly mowed this morning; you can still smell the scent of it, if you really try.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her before you hang up. You’re not sure if you mean it.

When you canceled your plans to go swimming with her, this morning, you hadn’t even known if Leon was going to call at all. You canceled just in case he would, and you’d been glad for it when your phone rang early afternoon.

“Meet me behind the mall,” was his greeting. “Ice cream. My treat.”

The heat melted your ice cream fast enough that it was dripping down your fingers before you could even get halfway through, and Leon had laughed at you as he stuffed his entire ice cream cone in his mouth in two bites.

You only got him back three months ago.

You let your eyes fall back onto Leon. His eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, but you know he’s not sleeping.

Sometimes, when you look at him, you remember that you’re on a time limit, and you wish you could just write your name into his skin, so he’ll always just be yours. You don’t like the idea that he’ll go back to Canada and belong to the city of Edmonton, and forget about you.

You allow yourself the simply pleasure of tracing his spine with your index finger, featherlight; his muscles jump where your finger passes.

“Hmm,” Leon hums, not opening his eyes. It’s an acknowledgement that he’s awake, but it doesn’t seem like he feels the need to move or say anything.

To be fair, it’s way too hot for that.

“It’s kinda crazy that we ran into each other like that,” you whisper. Your hand reaches the part of his spine where his back meets his ass and you let your hand rest there, not daring to go any further.

Leon opens his eyes, now.

“I recognized you right away,” he says, with a smile. “We hadn’t talked in years.”

“Since we were seven,” you agree.

“But it felt like we never missed a beat.”

--

You ran into Leon at a coffee shop, back in May, and you’d just been pouring sugar into your latte when you’d heard your name, in a voice that was foreign and familiar all at the same time.

You didn’t have to search your brain for who it was.

“Leon!”

Leon had been all smiles and polite chatter, but he looked so tired and worn out, and you weren’t the slightest bit surprised when he ordered a triple espresso.

“You won’t sleep for the next week,” you’d joked, and Leon had replied: “Wasn’t going to, anyway.”

You still don’t know why he’d immediately decided to trust you, but he’d asked you to sit down for coffee and you hadn’t been busy so you’d agreed.

He told you about where he worked now, in Edmonton. Played hockey for a living, in the NHL. He’d come home for the summer because they’d not made the playoffs, again. You didn’t really know exactly what that meant but you could tell it pained Leon to talk about it, so you hadn’t asked.

He said he was tired, and that he wished he could skip summer entirely, but also wished summer would last forever. That he felt like he could sleep for months, but when the night fell, his brain never seemed to quiet down enough for him to actually fall asleep.

That he remembered you, from when you were seven. Leon’s parents had moved when you were seven, and there hadn’t really been any way for you to stay friends. But he remembered a lot.

You talked about the swing over the creek, that wasn’t there anymore. It broke when you were nine, sent a neighboring kid down into the creek with a splash. It was one of the kids that used to make mean jokes about your father, so you hadn’t felt bad for him.

Your father left when you were 11, and you hadn’t really felt bad about that, either.

When you were 8, you dressed up like a pirate for Halloween, but it didn’t feel quite the same, without Leon.

You still braided your hair. Leon still knew how to braid it for you.

At the end of it, Leon had said he would like to see you again and you’d exchanged numbers.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a call so much in your life.

--

There’s a small problem, with your current arrangement with Leon.

Namely, that he’s going to go back to Edmonton at the end of August, and you’re falling in love with him.

You should’ve known.

“Want another one?”

Leon holds up the half empty bottle of wine, raising a questioning eyebrow. You’d been staring into space, you realize, and he noticed it, because he somehow always notices everything about you.

“Sure,” you answer, holding out your glass and letting him pour the wine.

There’s a fire crackling in your backyard. The night isn’t cold, on the contrary, but fires are somewhat of a summer staple around the neighborhood and Leon has made it somewhat of a hobby to build the most perfect one.

“You’ve been thinking very loudly,” Leon says.

You turn to look at him. The orange glow of the fire illuminates the bright blue of his eyes, and there’s shadows cast onto his face. It makes him even more beautiful than he always is and there’s almost something magical about it.

You almost say it, then.

What happens when I lose you?

Almost, but not quite. 

“Thinking about you,” you answer instead, and it’s not a lie but it’s not the truth either. Leon takes it the way you knew he would, and he reaches out and extends his hand towards you. You stand up and go to him willingly, let yourself curl into his lap, your face hidden in the crook where his neck meets his shoulder, his strong arms wrapped around you like armor.

He’s everywhere, all around you, and it becomes less scary when you’re this close to him.

Leon’s voice is soft when he mutters you name.

“Yeah?”

“I know this is probably not the right thing to say this, but I need you to know that I want August to last forever.”

He doesn’t have to tell you what the words really mean, beneath the surface, where the truth always hides.

It can’t happen, but I want this. I want us.

You suppose sometimes, wanting is enough. At least for right now.

You kiss him, then, press your lips against his in the most careful way. He tastes like red wine and like the smoke of the fire, the freshly mowed grass, the heat of the day.

He feels like summer.

--

When Leon goes home, he kisses you so deeply you can feel it tingle in your toes, but he doesn’t promise you he’ll call.

You guess you can’t live for the hope of it all forever, and sometimes wanting isn’t enough after all. You hadn’t really thought that it would be.

You’d always known you’d lose him to hockey: and maybe in a way, he was never yours to lose.

So August slips away into a moment in time, sipped away with a bottle of red wine, tangled up in white sheets. And September comes with her golden leaves and the crispy mornings and the rain heavy in the air, and Leon doesn’t call and summer feels like forever ago.

But you remember Leon. And Leon remembers you.

[dead-inside-mcgee]

The doctor and the demon Part 2

Summary: Henrik discovers where Chase went. He finds himself trapped in a castle. 

If your looking for Part 1, just go to my blog and search beauty and the beast. 

________________________________________________________________

It was two weeks after Chase left that Henrik started getting suspicious. The first snow would most likely be today, and Chase still wasn’t back. Henrik slipped on his coat, planning on going out to search for his friend when a knock on the door interrupted him.

 Looking through the peephole, He sighed, putting his hands in his hands, once he saw Dark standing in front of the door. Henrik’s first thought, was to not answer and climb out the back window. Unfortunately, Dark had other ideas, and let himself leave.

 “Dark, can't say it’s a pleasure,” Henrik said with a deadpan look. He silently cursed himself for not getting a lock on that door. It was a small town, not much crime, but he didn’t think about nosy neighbors.

 “Oh, don’t be like that, Henry,” Dark waved his hands and said this, as though they were old friends.

 “I know you love to see me.” He put an arm around the smaller man and closed the door with his foot.

 Henrik slipped out of his grasp. He took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, and in the sweetest voice he could muster, he said, “Well you can’t stay long. I’m heading out soon.” He gestured towards his coat.   

 “Well, where ya heading.” Dark made a move to put his arm around him again, but he was quicker this time. “I’m sure I can be of some assistance.”

 “I’m going out, to find a friend of mine,” He answer truthfully seeing no reason to lie.

 “Well. Why can’t come along?”

 Henrik back away towards the door, Dark put his hand on either side of his head. He leaned in close.

 “I don’t need you to,” Henrik said. “Beside’s, you’ve overstayed your welcome.” Henrik opened the door and ducked under Dark’s arm, causing him to fall into the mud below.

 He slammed the door shut and rush to grab a chair and jam it under the door. He made a mental note to get a lock and snuck out the back window.

After some sneaking around, and ducking into corners, Henrik made his way into the forest. He could faintly see tracks in the soft dirt. It had just begun to snow as he entered the forest.

 Henrik would often go through these woods to find herbs and spices, for medicine (and dinner at times). He knew his way around and he knew the path to the other town fairly well. He has gone on personal trips there to help some injured person, in need of professional help.

 Following the track marks, left by the cart, he quickly realized Chase had taken a wrong turn on a crossroads, that was closer to their town. Henrik bit his thumb.

 There were about three crossroads on the way to town. If you missed even one, you could get extremely lost. That's why he was always so worried for Chase’s safety.

 Knowing that standing here and panicking would get him nowhere, Henrik trudged along the path. It was mid afternoon, when he found the first clue on where chase went, and he didn’t like it.

 He could barely see them, but in one area there was a pack of wolf prints surrounding the cart and the horse. It seemed like, once the wolves surrounded them, Chase fell of the horse and ran in a completely different direction.

 He laughed despite himself. He realized how much he was acting like a detective from one of his favorite novels. It was a funny thought to distract him from Chase’s possible fate.

Shortly after he found a trail of Chase’s footprints, it’s began snowing. He cursed and picked up his speed. He cursed himself for not searching for him sooner.

 The faint wolf prints following Chase’s, worried the doctor, but the remains of a burnt branch gave him hope. Soon the outline of a fence came into view, he ran faster knowing Chase could be safe.

 His hope was drained when he noticed the blood, splattered on the bars. Even if it was just a small cut, Chase could die of an infection within days. His stomach dropped into a pit.

 With his last bit of hope, he opened the gate. There was a cobblestone path, so Henrik couldn’t even tell if Chase made it this far or he meet his fate before he got in and something else dragged him away.

 No, no. Henrik shook his head. If he died back there, there would be more blood splattered about.

 Sucking in a deep breath he forced his way down the path. Glancing at each of the statues, his hope diminished. He could stand here all day and stare at them, but he need confirmation.

 Not thinking, Henrik opened the doors to the castle at the end of the path. The inside seemed to be colder than outside. Pulling his coat tighter he looked around and called out.

 “Hello?” He immediately felt stupid. Was some crazy sociopath going to come up and say “Oh, hay come in. We have tea?”

 He laughed at his own stupid thought.

 “Someone's here! Should we scare them away?” Henrik heard someone whisper.

 “No, they might be the one we’ve been looking for,” another voice said.

 “If anyone is there, can you tell me if you’ve seen a friend of mine?” Henrik asked, then added. “His name is Chase.”

 “Chase? Isn’t that the name of the guy, boss threw into the dungeon?” The first voice asked.

 “What dungeon?” He asked.

 “Dahm it, Marvin!” The second voice whisper yelled.

 “Down the stairs, to your right,” The voice, that was probably Marvin, said.

 Henrik followed those instructions, he found the dungeon was even colder than outside. He hated that Chase has most likely been here for weeks.

 The first cage, Henrik noticed a figure huddled in the corner.

 “Chase?!” He called out.

 The figure shifted and looked out. It was Chase.

 “Henry?” Chase mumbled.

 “Hold on, I’ll find away to get you out!” He turned to try and find a key, when he was stopped by a tall figure. He felt like he’s been in this situation before.

 Slowly looking up, he realized the figure before him was too tall to be human. He couldn’t see the creatures face, but he could feel it breathing heavily

 “And what-” the creature leaned in closer, “-are you being here.”

 Henrik’s heart was beating faster, in fear, but he held his ground.

 “I am here for my friend,” he stated as contentedly as he could.

 “Your friend stole from me. He deserves to be locked up,” the creature growled.

 “What did he steal?” he asked.

 “Something that was very important to me,” the creature stated. Henrik glared the best he could; not satisfied with with that answer. The creature noticed this and continued. “A red rose.”

 Henrik’s stance flattered. Guilt and anger welled up inside him.

 “Let him go,” he said firmly.

 The creature laughed, or at least it might have been a laugh (it sounded like a dying cat).

 It leaned in closer. “And why, would I do that?”

 “Because-” his voice cracked, “-I was the one who asked him to bring me a rose. Let him go and take me in exchange.

 “Henrik no!” Chase screamed.

 The creature laughed again. “It’s a deal!”

 Before he could really react, Chase was snatched out of the cage and he was thrown in. He could hear Chase yelling as the thing carried him off. He teared up a bit.

 By the time the creature returned, Henrik had given into his emotions and was crying.

 The creature tilled it’s head in a confused manner.

 “You didn’t even let me say goodbye,” he sobbed.

 The creature grunted and left the dungeon. He was going to head to his own room when he was stopped by a candle stick.

 “I would like to suggest something. If I may?” Marvin said.

 The creature gave a grunt and Marvin continued.

 “I was th-thinking, b-boss, since this man will be staying with us for a while, we could… we could,” Marvin trailed off, nervously.

 “Get on with it,” the creature said.

 “I was thinking.. Maybe we could move him to a nicer place. To make him more comfortable and maybe-” Marvin paused again, “-and maybe you two could get along.”

 The creature gave him an annoyed look and growled. Marvin flinched.

 “I suppose your right,” the creature grumbled and turned back around.

 Back in the dungeon Henrik had already sat down on the pile of hay and was crying silently. The cage door opened with a long creek.

 “Come on!” The creature beckoned.

 Henrik obeyed. “Where are you taking me?” He asked.

 “To your room.”

 “My room?”

 The creature turned and looked at him. “Do you want to stay in the dungeon?” He asked.

 “No,” Henrik said, shaking his head.

 “Then stop asking questions!”

 After a long pause Henrik asked another question.

 “Do you have a name?”

 The creature stopped walking and was silent for a long time. “Anti,” He finally said.

 After going up a flight of stairs and passing multiple statutes, they stopped at a door.

 “This will be your room,” Anti said. “Feel free to explore the manor, it is your home after all. You my go where ever you like, except the west wing. It is forbidden.”

 “What's in the west wing?”

 “It is forbidden!” Anti said louder.

 The inside of the room was warm. The walls were painted light blue, the bed had darker blue sheets and blanket. It was a nice room, but Henrik didn’t like to think of it as home. Without Chase, how could he call anything home?

 “You will join me for dinner.” Anti stated.

 “I’m not hungry,” Henrik said, sounding like a bratty child.

 Anti bore his teeth, trying to keep clam. “I’m sure you’ll be hungry later. You’ll regret not coming.”

 “I don’t want to come. Leave me alone.”

 “Um.. boss,” Marvin, who followed them up here, said, “I think we should give him some space. He just got here after all.”

 Anti ignored him.

 “Fine then! Starve!” He screamed and slammed the door hard enough the shake the ground.

 He turned to Marvin and the group of other appliances that followed them.

 “If he doesn’t eat with me he doesn’t eat at all,” he said then stormed off.

  Henrik buried his face into the sheets. Maybe if he fell asleep this will all turn out to be a bad dream.

A little while later, Henrik heard a knock on the door. “Go away!” he yelled into the pillow.

 Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, harder this time.

 He groaned. “There’s not even a lock on that door,” he yelled.

 “Well I’m sorry. I’ve been told it’s rude to open someones door without knocking,” a voice said, the door opened.

 Henrik didn’t see anyone enter, but he could hear something moving along the floor. He looked down to see an old clock, a candlestick, and a feather duster.

 “Heyo!” the candle said. “I’m Marvin!”

 The clock sighed. “My name is Jackie.”

 “You may refer to me as google,” the feather duster stated in a monotone voice.

 “Your.. talking to me,” Henrik said. He felt stupid after saying that.

 “Yeah you are! Isn’t that cool,” Marvin cheered. “Well cool for you, not really for us.”

 Jackie mumbled something, then spoke up. “We’re here to take you to dinner.”

 “I told him I didn’t want to eat.” His stomach growled, disproving his last statement.

 “You won’t be dining with him tonight. After you rejected him, he locked himself up. You’ll be dining with us,” Google said.

 “Won’t he hear us and get upset?” Henrik asked.

 “That's what I said,” Jackie complained.

 “We will be taking the risk tonight,” Google said.

 “It’s going to be awesome!” Marvin chimed.

[milenasanchezmk]

10 Ideas to Make Workouts More Fun (and a Contest)

Workouts are work. There’s no way around that. Whenever you move matter through space and time, whether you’re displacing your own body weight or a barbell or a kettle bell, you’re doing work. It’s just physics. But there’s another meaning of “work”: an unpleasant but necessary activity that helps you achieve a desired outcome. Far too many of our workouts end up embodying this second definition. They’re chores, strains. That’s why so many people—all of whom know they should be exercising on a regular basis—remain sedentary, unfit, weak individuals. Physical activity is no longer required to survive. We don’t “have” to do it anymore. If it feels like a miserable experience, why would we?

There are ways to escape this mindset, though. There are ways to make your workouts feel more likely play and less like work. Let’s look at a few today, and I hope you’ll share what works for you in the comment section. Btw, I’ve included a video of me doing one of my favorites below—and a contest to share the fun.

Find an Activity That’s Intrinsically Rewarding

When training, extrinsic rewards are always going to be present. You’re always trying to look better naked, lose weight, hit a PR, get better health markers. But if your training is also intrinsically rewarding—if you derive satisfaction, pleasure, and meaning from the act of training itself— you’ll have no problems sticking with it. Only the hardest of hard core will maintain a training regimen they hate. Everyone will keep a training regimen they love. Find something you enjoy doing, that you’d do even if it provided no health or aesthetic benefits, and make that at least part of your training regimen.

If You Hate Something, Try Something Else

This is the most fundamental mindset shift. Don’t do things that you hate.

A workout doesn’t have to be a walk in the park. Not everything is going to leave you bursting with joy. But if your training regimen is leaving you miserable, if you dread it and find every excuse to skip it, that’s worth heeding.

Maybe you hate back squats, but front squats are downright enjoyable. Maybe you hate spin class, but hill sprints are fun. Maybe you hate dedicated cardio or HIIT sessions, but pickup basketball twice a week does the trick. Find an alternative that accomplishes the same thing.

Try Competing Against Other Entities

I enjoy competing against myself. I like beating my own records, surpassing my own achievements, improving on my former self. I also like competition against other humans. That’s why I ran marathons and competed in triathlon for so long—I liked beating the other guys. It’s also why I love Ultimate Frisbee. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of competition to make you forget about how hard you’re working and how great of a workout you’re getting.

You can compete in CrossFit, in pickup games at the park, in adult rec leagues. Anything at all will work.

Get Better Goals

Me? My goal is to play better:

I want to be able to play Ultimate every weekend with guys 3o years younger (and keep up).

I want to go out for a paddling session whenever I want and not have it feel like work.

I want to hit the slopes all weekend and be able to drive home without my quads cramping up every time I hit the brake.

And I want to do all that while staying injury-free.

My training focus, then, is to maintain: my fitness, my muscle mass, the viability of my connective tissue, my bone mineral density. I’m not going for PRs anymore because it’s too risky at this stage while bringing me no closer to my goals. But that’s fine. I’ve found what works for me and my goals. And it makes the more “boring” training that much more enjoyable, because I’m working toward something that I love and frankly need to be healthy and happy.

Half my training is play. The other half is training that supports the other half, the play, and gets me closer to it. I know what and I’m doing and why. Do you?

Integrate Training Into Your Work Day

When you’re plugging away behind the computer, take ten minutes to go for a walk, run some sprints in the stairwell, do a few sets of pushups and squats, or swing the kettlebell you keep in your office when you feel like a break. You’re still working, but it’s different. You’ve switched from the mental to the physical, and that change is everything. Suddenly you want to train, because it’s not filling out a report or writing another email.

The added benefit is that taking fitness breaks will make you more eager to get back to work and, thanks to better blood flow to the brain, more productive when you do.

A ten-minute break to move or train every hour is the sweet spot, I find.

Take Up a Martial Art

Humans have a predilection for violence. Human history is in many respects a history of violence. We all need to acknowledge that and integrate it. That doesn’t mean we should be violent. It means there’s nothing wrong—and perhaps a lot right—with developing our capacity for physical conflict in a controlled, safe environment. Sparring, not street fighting. Staying calm in tense situations, not freaking out and escalating. Roughhousing, not brawling.

One of my big regrets is not learning a martial art. I have been learning a bit with an experienced friend, who’s shown me a few things and runs drills with me, and that’s only made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. Don’t make that mistake.

Set a Few Rules

Making rules that “force” you to exercise can be liberating.

One rule I’ve been following lately is “exercise when Shanti (our dog) exercises.” I’ll take the ball or frisbee out to the park, and every time I throw it I’ll exercise until she brings it back. I’ll do as many pushups or bodyweight squats as I can. I’ll hold a plank. Maybe I’ll even bring a kettlebell along and do swings or overhead presses or cleans or goblet squats. Depending on how far you throw the ball and how fast your dog is, you can end up doing short or long sets. This has ended up being one or two of my workouts each week.

Another example is people who hang pullup bars in a doorway and have the rule that they must do five (or however many) pullups each time they pass through. Without fail. If it’s a heavily trafficked part of the house, you might accumulate 30 or 40 pullups on an average day. Those add up.

Maybe you do squats while brushing your teeth. Or “sprint every hill you see.” Or “walk after every meal.” The point is to repeat these rules and stick to them until they’re part of you, and you find yourself training without making the decision to do it. What begins as an arbitrary rule (what rule doesn’t?) will eventually become sacrosanct.

Dance

If you have kids, this is a great way to spend some awesome family time. Have everyone hang out in the kitchen as you prep dinner. Throw on some music. Dance. Get silly. Try something new, don’t be afraid to really move. A Spotify (or similar service) account works well here, because you can create playlists and just throw them on when needed.

I’m partial to the “A to Z of African Dance” YouTube video. Great beat, great dancing, and it’ll give you some good ideas to try that provide a good workout.

Go Creek Walking

Don’t have a creek at hand? Apologies. If you do, however, I want you to visit it at least once a week for the next month—and spend at least an hour during each visit traveling up and down it, jumping from rock to rock, balancing on logs, wading through the water, squatting down to look for crawdads (or crayfish) and frogs and salamanders (but definitely not newts), sprinting up banks, crawling, lifting heavy rocks and logs. It’s a great opportunity to get a variety of movement patterns, expose yourself to nature, and get some barefoot time.

Make the World Your Playground

No matter where you live, the environment offers a wide variety of options for movement, play, and exercise.

Trees: Climb them, do pull-ups on the branches, do handstand pushups against the trunk.

Stairs: Run them, jump them, bear crawl up and down them.

Park Benches: Jump over them, crawl on the back, balance on the back.

Hills: Roll down them then sprint back up.

Traffic Lights: pull-ups, sprint across intersections (when green).

Curbs: Treat like balance beams, do calf raises (or stretches) off the edge, single leg hops up and down.

Target (Store): Hurdle and climb those big red balls they have at the entrance (beware of dirty looks from parents whose kids try to emulate you).

Everything is an opportunity for movement and exercise. You just have to be willing to stand out.

I’d say make the local playground your playground, but certain cities have strict laws against adults using playgrounds without children. Too bad.

Still, know you can always add workout “toys” to your own the backyard (or a willing friend’s if you don’t have one yourself). The slackline has been one such piece of play equipment for me. Check it out—and then see how you could WIN one yourself. 

Now For the Contest…

I want to hear your favorite ways to turn exercise into play—and your questions around enjoying more play in your (and your family’s) life. Simply leave a relevant comment here by the deadline, and you’ll be entered to win.

The Prize: 

Your very own Slackline + The full line of PRIMAL KITCHEN® Collagen products (Collagen Fuel, Collagen Peptides, and Collagen Bars)—the ultimate ways to support the health of your joints, tendons and muscles (not to mention skin, hair and nails).

The Deadline: Midnight PDT, June 21th, 2018

Thanks for stopping in, everyone. Good luck!

[cristinajourdanqp]

10 Ideas to Make Workouts More Fun (and a Contest)

Workouts are work. There’s no way around that. Whenever you move matter through space and time, whether you’re displacing your own body weight or a barbell or a kettle bell, you’re doing work. It’s just physics. But there’s another meaning of “work”: an unpleasant but necessary activity that helps you achieve a desired outcome. Far too many of our workouts end up embodying this second definition. They’re chores, strains. That’s why so many people—all of whom know they should be exercising on a regular basis—remain sedentary, unfit, weak individuals. Physical activity is no longer required to survive. We don’t “have” to do it anymore. If it feels like a miserable experience, why would we?

There are ways to escape this mindset, though. There are ways to make your workouts feel more likely play and less like work. Let’s look at a few today, and I hope you’ll share what works for you in the comment section. Btw, I’ve included a video of me doing one of my favorites below—and a contest to share the fun.

Find an Activity That’s Intrinsically Rewarding

When training, extrinsic rewards are always going to be present. You’re always trying to look better naked, lose weight, hit a PR, get better health markers. But if your training is also intrinsically rewarding—if you derive satisfaction, pleasure, and meaning from the act of training itself— you’ll have no problems sticking with it. Only the hardest of hard core will maintain a training regimen they hate. Everyone will keep a training regimen they love. Find something you enjoy doing, that you’d do even if it provided no health or aesthetic benefits, and make that at least part of your training regimen.

If You Hate Something, Try Something Else

This is the most fundamental mindset shift. Don’t do things that you hate.

A workout doesn’t have to be a walk in the park. Not everything is going to leave you bursting with joy. But if your training regimen is leaving you miserable, if you dread it and find every excuse to skip it, that’s worth heeding.

Maybe you hate back squats, but front squats are downright enjoyable. Maybe you hate spin class, but hill sprints are fun. Maybe you hate dedicated cardio or HIIT sessions, but pickup basketball twice a week does the trick. Find an alternative that accomplishes the same thing.

Try Competing Against Other Entities

I enjoy competing against myself. I like beating my own records, surpassing my own achievements, improving on my former self. I also like competition against other humans. That’s why I ran marathons and competed in triathlon for so long—I liked beating the other guys. It’s also why I love Ultimate Frisbee. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of competition to make you forget about how hard you’re working and how great of a workout you’re getting.

You can compete in CrossFit, in pickup games at the park, in adult rec leagues. Anything at all will work.

Get Better Goals

Me? My goal is to play better:

I want to be able to play Ultimate every weekend with guys 3o years younger (and keep up).

I want to go out for a paddling session whenever I want and not have it feel like work.

I want to hit the slopes all weekend and be able to drive home without my quads cramping up every time I hit the brake.

And I want to do all that while staying injury-free.

My training focus, then, is to maintain: my fitness, my muscle mass, the viability of my connective tissue, my bone mineral density. I’m not going for PRs anymore because it’s too risky at this stage while bringing me no closer to my goals. But that’s fine. I’ve found what works for me and my goals. And it makes the more “boring” training that much more enjoyable, because I’m working toward something that I love and frankly need to be healthy and happy.

Half my training is play. The other half is training that supports the other half, the play, and gets me closer to it. I know what and I’m doing and why. Do you?

Integrate Training Into Your Work Day

When you’re plugging away behind the computer, take ten minutes to go for a walk, run some sprints in the stairwell, do a few sets of pushups and squats, or swing the kettlebell you keep in your office when you feel like a break. You’re still working, but it’s different. You’ve switched from the mental to the physical, and that change is everything. Suddenly you want to train, because it’s not filling out a report or writing another email.

The added benefit is that taking fitness breaks will make you more eager to get back to work and, thanks to better blood flow to the brain, more productive when you do.

A ten-minute break to move or train every hour is the sweet spot, I find.

Take Up a Martial Art

Humans have a predilection for violence. Human history is in many respects a history of violence. We all need to acknowledge that and integrate it. That doesn’t mean we should be violent. It means there’s nothing wrong—and perhaps a lot right—with developing our capacity for physical conflict in a controlled, safe environment. Sparring, not street fighting. Staying calm in tense situations, not freaking out and escalating. Roughhousing, not brawling.

One of my big regrets is not learning a martial art. I have been learning a bit with an experienced friend, who’s shown me a few things and runs drills with me, and that’s only made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. Don’t make that mistake.

Set a Few Rules

Making rules that “force” you to exercise can be liberating.

One rule I’ve been following lately is “exercise when Shanti (our dog) exercises.” I’ll take the ball or frisbee out to the park, and every time I throw it I’ll exercise until she brings it back. I’ll do as many pushups or bodyweight squats as I can. I’ll hold a plank. Maybe I’ll even bring a kettlebell along and do swings or overhead presses or cleans or goblet squats. Depending on how far you throw the ball and how fast your dog is, you can end up doing short or long sets. This has ended up being one or two of my workouts each week.

Another example is people who hang pullup bars in a doorway and have the rule that they must do five (or however many) pullups each time they pass through. Without fail. If it’s a heavily trafficked part of the house, you might accumulate 30 or 40 pullups on an average day. Those add up.

Maybe you do squats while brushing your teeth. Or “sprint every hill you see.” Or “walk after every meal.” The point is to repeat these rules and stick to them until they’re part of you, and you find yourself training without making the decision to do it. What begins as an arbitrary rule (what rule doesn’t?) will eventually become sacrosanct.

Dance

If you have kids, this is a great way to spend some awesome family time. Have everyone hang out in the kitchen as you prep dinner. Throw on some music. Dance. Get silly. Try something new, don’t be afraid to really move. A Spotify (or similar service) account works well here, because you can create playlists and just throw them on when needed.

I’m partial to the “A to Z of African Dance” YouTube video. Great beat, great dancing, and it’ll give you some good ideas to try that provide a good workout.

Go Creek Walking

Don’t have a creek at hand? Apologies. If you do, however, I want you to visit it at least once a week for the next month—and spend at least an hour during each visit traveling up and down it, jumping from rock to rock, balancing on logs, wading through the water, squatting down to look for crawdads (or crayfish) and frogs and salamanders (but definitely not newts), sprinting up banks, crawling, lifting heavy rocks and logs. It’s a great opportunity to get a variety of movement patterns, expose yourself to nature, and get some barefoot time.

Make the World Your Playground

No matter where you live, the environment offers a wide variety of options for movement, play, and exercise.

Trees: Climb them, do pull-ups on the branches, do handstand pushups against the trunk.

Stairs: Run them, jump them, bear crawl up and down them.

Park Benches: Jump over them, crawl on the back, balance on the back.

Hills: Roll down them then sprint back up.

Traffic Lights: pull-ups, sprint across intersections (when green).

Curbs: Treat like balance beams, do calf raises (or stretches) off the edge, single leg hops up and down.

Target (Store): Hurdle and climb those big red balls they have at the entrance (beware of dirty looks from parents whose kids try to emulate you).

Everything is an opportunity for movement and exercise. You just have to be willing to stand out.

I’d say make the local playground your playground, but certain cities have strict laws against adults using playgrounds without children. Too bad.

Still, know you can always add workout “toys” to your own the backyard (or a willing friend’s if you don’t have one yourself). The slackline has been one such piece of play equipment for me. Check it out—and then see how you could WIN one yourself. 

Now For the Contest…

I want to hear your favorite ways to turn exercise into play—and your questions around enjoying more play in your (and your family’s) life. Simply leave a relevant comment here by the deadline, and you’ll be entered to win.

The Prize: 

Your very own Slackline + The full line of PRIMAL KITCHEN® Collagen products (Collagen Fuel, Collagen Peptides, and Collagen Bars)—the ultimate ways to support the health of your joints, tendons and muscles (not to mention skin, hair and nails).

The Deadline: Midnight PDT, June 21th, 2018

Thanks for stopping in, everyone. Good luck!

[watsonrodriquezie]

10 Ideas to Make Workouts More Fun (and a Contest)

Workouts are work. There’s no way around that. Whenever you move matter through space and time, whether you’re displacing your own body weight or a barbell or a kettle bell, you’re doing work. It’s just physics. But there’s another meaning of “work”: an unpleasant but necessary activity that helps you achieve a desired outcome. Far too many of our workouts end up embodying this second definition. They’re chores, strains. That’s why so many people—all of whom know they should be exercising on a regular basis—remain sedentary, unfit, weak individuals. Physical activity is no longer required to survive. We don’t “have” to do it anymore. If it feels like a miserable experience, why would we?

There are ways to escape this mindset, though. There are ways to make your workouts feel more likely play and less like work. Let’s look at a few today, and I hope you’ll share what works for you in the comment section. Btw, I’ve included a video of me doing one of my favorites below—and a contest to share the fun.

Find an Activity That’s Intrinsically Rewarding

When training, extrinsic rewards are always going to be present. You’re always trying to look better naked, lose weight, hit a PR, get better health markers. But if your training is also intrinsically rewarding—if you derive satisfaction, pleasure, and meaning from the act of training itself— you’ll have no problems sticking with it. Only the hardest of hard core will maintain a training regimen they hate. Everyone will keep a training regimen they love. Find something you enjoy doing, that you’d do even if it provided no health or aesthetic benefits, and make that at least part of your training regimen.

If You Hate Something, Try Something Else

This is the most fundamental mindset shift. Don’t do things that you hate.

A workout doesn’t have to be a walk in the park. Not everything is going to leave you bursting with joy. But if your training regimen is leaving you miserable, if you dread it and find every excuse to skip it, that’s worth heeding.

Maybe you hate back squats, but front squats are downright enjoyable. Maybe you hate spin class, but hill sprints are fun. Maybe you hate dedicated cardio or HIIT sessions, but pickup basketball twice a week does the trick. Find an alternative that accomplishes the same thing.

Try Competing Against Other Entities

I enjoy competing against myself. I like beating my own records, surpassing my own achievements, improving on my former self. I also like competition against other humans. That’s why I ran marathons and competed in triathlon for so long—I liked beating the other guys. It’s also why I love Ultimate Frisbee. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of competition to make you forget about how hard you’re working and how great of a workout you’re getting.

You can compete in CrossFit, in pickup games at the park, in adult rec leagues. Anything at all will work.

Get Better Goals

Me? My goal is to play better:

I want to be able to play Ultimate every weekend with guys 3o years younger (and keep up).

I want to go out for a paddling session whenever I want and not have it feel like work.

I want to hit the slopes all weekend and be able to drive home without my quads cramping up every time I hit the brake.

And I want to do all that while staying injury-free.

My training focus, then, is to maintain: my fitness, my muscle mass, the viability of my connective tissue, my bone mineral density. I’m not going for PRs anymore because it’s too risky at this stage while bringing me no closer to my goals. But that’s fine. I’ve found what works for me and my goals. And it makes the more “boring” training that much more enjoyable, because I’m working toward something that I love and frankly need to be healthy and happy.

Half my training is play. The other half is training that supports the other half, the play, and gets me closer to it. I know what and I’m doing and why. Do you?

Integrate Training Into Your Work Day

When you’re plugging away behind the computer, take ten minutes to go for a walk, run some sprints in the stairwell, do a few sets of pushups and squats, or swing the kettlebell you keep in your office when you feel like a break. You’re still working, but it’s different. You’ve switched from the mental to the physical, and that change is everything. Suddenly you want to train, because it’s not filling out a report or writing another email.

The added benefit is that taking fitness breaks will make you more eager to get back to work and, thanks to better blood flow to the brain, more productive when you do.

A ten-minute break to move or train every hour is the sweet spot, I find.

Take Up a Martial Art

Humans have a predilection for violence. Human history is in many respects a history of violence. We all need to acknowledge that and integrate it. That doesn’t mean we should be violent. It means there’s nothing wrong—and perhaps a lot right—with developing our capacity for physical conflict in a controlled, safe environment. Sparring, not street fighting. Staying calm in tense situations, not freaking out and escalating. Roughhousing, not brawling.

One of my big regrets is not learning a martial art. I have been learning a bit with an experienced friend, who’s shown me a few things and runs drills with me, and that’s only made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. Don’t make that mistake.

Set a Few Rules

Making rules that “force” you to exercise can be liberating.

One rule I’ve been following lately is “exercise when Shanti (our dog) exercises.” I’ll take the ball or frisbee out to the park, and every time I throw it I’ll exercise until she brings it back. I’ll do as many pushups or bodyweight squats as I can. I’ll hold a plank. Maybe I’ll even bring a kettlebell along and do swings or overhead presses or cleans or goblet squats. Depending on how far you throw the ball and how fast your dog is, you can end up doing short or long sets. This has ended up being one or two of my workouts each week.

Another example is people who hang pullup bars in a doorway and have the rule that they must do five (or however many) pullups each time they pass through. Without fail. If it’s a heavily trafficked part of the house, you might accumulate 30 or 40 pullups on an average day. Those add up.

Maybe you do squats while brushing your teeth. Or “sprint every hill you see.” Or “walk after every meal.” The point is to repeat these rules and stick to them until they’re part of you, and you find yourself training without making the decision to do it. What begins as an arbitrary rule (what rule doesn’t?) will eventually become sacrosanct.

Dance

If you have kids, this is a great way to spend some awesome family time. Have everyone hang out in the kitchen as you prep dinner. Throw on some music. Dance. Get silly. Try something new, don’t be afraid to really move. A Spotify (or similar service) account works well here, because you can create playlists and just throw them on when needed.

I’m partial to the “A to Z of African Dance” YouTube video. Great beat, great dancing, and it’ll give you some good ideas to try that provide a good workout.

Go Creek Walking

Don’t have a creek at hand? Apologies. If you do, however, I want you to visit it at least once a week for the next month—and spend at least an hour during each visit traveling up and down it, jumping from rock to rock, balancing on logs, wading through the water, squatting down to look for crawdads (or crayfish) and frogs and salamanders (but definitely not newts), sprinting up banks, crawling, lifting heavy rocks and logs. It’s a great opportunity to get a variety of movement patterns, expose yourself to nature, and get some barefoot time.

Make the World Your Playground

No matter where you live, the environment offers a wide variety of options for movement, play, and exercise.

Trees: Climb them, do pull-ups on the branches, do handstand pushups against the trunk.

Stairs: Run them, jump them, bear crawl up and down them.

Park Benches: Jump over them, crawl on the back, balance on the back.

Hills: Roll down them then sprint back up.

Traffic Lights: pull-ups, sprint across intersections (when green).

Curbs: Treat like balance beams, do calf raises (or stretches) off the edge, single leg hops up and down.

Target (Store): Hurdle and climb those big red balls they have at the entrance (beware of dirty looks from parents whose kids try to emulate you).

Everything is an opportunity for movement and exercise. You just have to be willing to stand out.

I’d say make the local playground your playground, but certain cities have strict laws against adults using playgrounds without children. Too bad.

Still, know you can always add workout “toys” to your own the backyard (or a willing friend’s if you don’t have one yourself). The slackline has been one such piece of play equipment for me. Check it out—and then see how you could WIN one yourself. 

Now For the Contest…

I want to hear your favorite ways to turn exercise into play—and your questions around enjoying more play in your (and your family’s) life. Simply leave a relevant comment here by the deadline, and you’ll be entered to win.

The Prize: 

Your very own Slackline + The full line of PRIMAL KITCHEN® Collagen products (Collagen Fuel, Collagen Peptides, and Collagen Bars)—the ultimate ways to support the health of your joints, tendons and muscles (not to mention skin, hair and nails).

The Deadline: Midnight PDT, June 21th, 2018

Thanks for stopping in, everyone. Good luck!

[cynthiamwashington]

10 Ideas to Make Workouts More Fun (and a Contest)

Workouts are work. There’s no way around that. Whenever you move matter through space and time, whether you’re displacing your own body weight or a barbell or a kettle bell, you’re doing work. It’s just physics. But there’s another meaning of “work”: an unpleasant but necessary activity that helps you achieve a desired outcome. Far too many of our workouts end up embodying this second definition. They’re chores, strains. That’s why so many people—all of whom know they should be exercising on a regular basis—remain sedentary, unfit, weak individuals. Physical activity is no longer required to survive. We don’t “have” to do it anymore. If it feels like a miserable experience, why would we?

There are ways to escape this mindset, though. There are ways to make your workouts feel more likely play and less like work. Let’s look at a few today, and I hope you’ll share what works for you in the comment section. Btw, I’ve included a video of me doing one of my favorites below—and a contest to share the fun.

Find an Activity That’s Intrinsically Rewarding

When training, extrinsic rewards are always going to be present. You’re always trying to look better naked, lose weight, hit a PR, get better health markers. But if your training is also intrinsically rewarding—if you derive satisfaction, pleasure, and meaning from the act of training itself— you’ll have no problems sticking with it. Only the hardest of hard core will maintain a training regimen they hate. Everyone will keep a training regimen they love. Find something you enjoy doing, that you’d do even if it provided no health or aesthetic benefits, and make that at least part of your training regimen.

If You Hate Something, Try Something Else

This is the most fundamental mindset shift. Don’t do things that you hate.

A workout doesn’t have to be a walk in the park. Not everything is going to leave you bursting with joy. But if your training regimen is leaving you miserable, if you dread it and find every excuse to skip it, that’s worth heeding.

Maybe you hate back squats, but front squats are downright enjoyable. Maybe you hate spin class, but hill sprints are fun. Maybe you hate dedicated cardio or HIIT sessions, but pickup basketball twice a week does the trick. Find an alternative that accomplishes the same thing.

Try Competing Against Other Entities

I enjoy competing against myself. I like beating my own records, surpassing my own achievements, improving on my former self. I also like competition against other humans. That’s why I ran marathons and competed in triathlon for so long—I liked beating the other guys. It’s also why I love Ultimate Frisbee. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of competition to make you forget about how hard you’re working and how great of a workout you’re getting.

You can compete in CrossFit, in pickup games at the park, in adult rec leagues. Anything at all will work.

Get Better Goals

Me? My goal is to play better:

I want to be able to play Ultimate every weekend with guys 3o years younger (and keep up).

I want to go out for a paddling session whenever I want and not have it feel like work.

I want to hit the slopes all weekend and be able to drive home without my quads cramping up every time I hit the brake.

And I want to do all that while staying injury-free.

My training focus, then, is to maintain: my fitness, my muscle mass, the viability of my connective tissue, my bone mineral density. I’m not going for PRs anymore because it’s too risky at this stage while bringing me no closer to my goals. But that’s fine. I’ve found what works for me and my goals. And it makes the more “boring” training that much more enjoyable, because I’m working toward something that I love and frankly need to be healthy and happy.

Half my training is play. The other half is training that supports the other half, the play, and gets me closer to it. I know what and I’m doing and why. Do you?

Integrate Training Into Your Work Day

When you’re plugging away behind the computer, take ten minutes to go for a walk, run some sprints in the stairwell, do a few sets of pushups and squats, or swing the kettlebell you keep in your office when you feel like a break. You’re still working, but it’s different. You’ve switched from the mental to the physical, and that change is everything. Suddenly you want to train, because it’s not filling out a report or writing another email.

The added benefit is that taking fitness breaks will make you more eager to get back to work and, thanks to better blood flow to the brain, more productive when you do.

A ten-minute break to move or train every hour is the sweet spot, I find.

Take Up a Martial Art

Humans have a predilection for violence. Human history is in many respects a history of violence. We all need to acknowledge that and integrate it. That doesn’t mean we should be violent. It means there’s nothing wrong—and perhaps a lot right—with developing our capacity for physical conflict in a controlled, safe environment. Sparring, not street fighting. Staying calm in tense situations, not freaking out and escalating. Roughhousing, not brawling.

One of my big regrets is not learning a martial art. I have been learning a bit with an experienced friend, who’s shown me a few things and runs drills with me, and that’s only made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. Don’t make that mistake.

Set a Few Rules

Making rules that “force” you to exercise can be liberating.

One rule I’ve been following lately is “exercise when Shanti (our dog) exercises.” I’ll take the ball or frisbee out to the park, and every time I throw it I’ll exercise until she brings it back. I’ll do as many pushups or bodyweight squats as I can. I’ll hold a plank. Maybe I’ll even bring a kettlebell along and do swings or overhead presses or cleans or goblet squats. Depending on how far you throw the ball and how fast your dog is, you can end up doing short or long sets. This has ended up being one or two of my workouts each week.

Another example is people who hang pullup bars in a doorway and have the rule that they must do five (or however many) pullups each time they pass through. Without fail. If it’s a heavily trafficked part of the house, you might accumulate 30 or 40 pullups on an average day. Those add up.

Maybe you do squats while brushing your teeth. Or “sprint every hill you see.” Or “walk after every meal.” The point is to repeat these rules and stick to them until they’re part of you, and you find yourself training without making the decision to do it. What begins as an arbitrary rule (what rule doesn’t?) will eventually become sacrosanct.

Dance

If you have kids, this is a great way to spend some awesome family time. Have everyone hang out in the kitchen as you prep dinner. Throw on some music. Dance. Get silly. Try something new, don’t be afraid to really move. A Spotify (or similar service) account works well here, because you can create playlists and just throw them on when needed.

I’m partial to the “A to Z of African Dance” YouTube video. Great beat, great dancing, and it’ll give you some good ideas to try that provide a good workout.

Go Creek Walking

Don’t have a creek at hand? Apologies. If you do, however, I want you to visit it at least once a week for the next month—and spend at least an hour during each visit traveling up and down it, jumping from rock to rock, balancing on logs, wading through the water, squatting down to look for crawdads (or crayfish) and frogs and salamanders (but definitely not newts), sprinting up banks, crawling, lifting heavy rocks and logs. It’s a great opportunity to get a variety of movement patterns, expose yourself to nature, and get some barefoot time.

Make the World Your Playground

No matter where you live, the environment offers a wide variety of options for movement, play, and exercise.

Trees: Climb them, do pull-ups on the branches, do handstand pushups against the trunk.

Stairs: Run them, jump them, bear crawl up and down them.

Park Benches: Jump over them, crawl on the back, balance on the back.

Hills: Roll down them then sprint back up.

Traffic Lights: pull-ups, sprint across intersections (when green).

Curbs: Treat like balance beams, do calf raises (or stretches) off the edge, single leg hops up and down.

Target (Store): Hurdle and climb those big red balls they have at the entrance (beware of dirty looks from parents whose kids try to emulate you).

Everything is an opportunity for movement and exercise. You just have to be willing to stand out.

I’d say make the local playground your playground, but certain cities have strict laws against adults using playgrounds without children. Too bad.

Still, know you can always add workout “toys” to your own the backyard (or a willing friend’s if you don’t have one yourself). The slackline has been one such piece of play equipment for me. Check it out—and then see how you could WIN one yourself. 

Now For the Contest…

I want to hear your favorite ways to turn exercise into play—and your questions around enjoying more play in your (and your family’s) life. Simply leave a relevant comment here by the deadline, and you’ll be entered to win.

The Prize: 

Your very own Slackline + The full line of PRIMAL KITCHEN® Collagen products (Collagen Fuel, Collagen Peptides, and Collagen Bars)—the ultimate ways to support the health of your joints, tendons and muscles (not to mention skin, hair and nails).

The Deadline: Midnight PDT, June 21th, 2018

Thanks for stopping in, everyone. Good luck!

(function($) { $("#dfsHWZ8").load("https://www.marksdailyapple.com/wp-admin/admin-ajax.php?action=dfads_ajax_load_ads&groups=674&limit=1&orderby=random&order=ASC&container_id=&container_html=none&container_class=&ad_html=div&ad_class=&callback_function=&return_javascript=0&_block_id=dfsHWZ8" ); })( jQuery );

The post 10 Ideas to Make Workouts More Fun (and a Contest) appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

Article source here:Marks’s Daily Apple

[lunarfae714]

guatemaya & mecksiko

12.29 Atop Yaxha Pyramid

when we can measure our journey

in love shared,

found, exchanged?

instead of in fear of disease

hijack eyes of mania

panic

feeding-off-conflict

the beauty is known no ego

only offerings

can the love always be

charged like the Sun,

infinite, and changing

in each hour-

when does it become a service,

the exchange?

when can it be fully free

undrained, exuberant?

for yourself & for all

for the earth

for the wind

for all that is—

changing form

a leminascate

can it all be

selfless 

words & actions,

are they enough?

like the rocks that love the water which kisses them,

the eternal dance 

of stability & moving union.

***

after noon

soft dreams

downstream

count backwards

from twenty

& forth

until the numbers dissolve

facts turn to feeling

& the border boxes break free

natural & unseen

patterns yet changing

each non-moment still

like pre-dawn’s cirrus

the dance like curtain

unfold away lights

strong-

the elements

burnt sun

ice water

really

feeling it all

full

heart

full

mind

full

of

nothing

as it should BE

always still

&  moving

seed to harvest

sow

in to morrow

with Love’s light

blasting

*

1.17.16

amethyst

charged

emerald & selentine

dreams directed

by the mind’s wind

candlewax drip

fixed on fingers

the torch lights

our nightcrawl

naked under the quarter moon

& the river runs high

poison toads

& branches that split,

graze under the soles

night becomes dawn

time told by Sky

the visions change in Ember’s logs

consume gadgets not necessary

almighty mother fire force

acts, destroys, creates

our womb ignite

as we place hot stones on our sacral chakras,

active the living unacknowledged children

the family of us

&

the natural

All living as one.

water pulleys from the creek,

the new flow.

the same water near passes

over our feet twice

our collective feeling,

on solid foundations.

***

when I’m alone

& write poems

of travelers notes

how real addictions can be

to communication

sugar from the parasite

all the world addicted to the white mans crystal

ancient ruins of conquest

how to get away

from conquerer mentality?

can we remove ourselves from history?

why do we capture another?

separate, control, dominate

trapped in the material system

material hunger

we are spiritual beings

meant to live like plants

will it disappear as the bombs go

the few who print the papers

the chemicals & vaccines

police and sex tourists

drag us where?

the north and south pole

on the same earth.

*

morning meditation on the river dock

silver smokerings oscillate

tubes of ashes fall

the air moves east

& the river rolls west—

wind & water

frankincense & appelblauwzeegroen

their dance

smooth & constant

like thoughts dancing along the rivers

(background noise is all)

no use to anticipate

the next moment

or dwell

the past moment

who you were

what you said

what you thought

what you felt

meaningless

when we live in the mind

in our fears, pain, or planning

we will miss the sweet kiss

of wind on our lips,

the first sip of coffee, bitter

the way the monkeypod shines crimson

gleams bark in the noon sun,

the glory in taking a inhale deep

in tune with the sway of the trees,

you may not see

the makeshift fishingrod

of sticks & shells

the bearded fishermans tailored pants

beside me on the dock

what are we trying to catch?

how simple to speak in silence

when we are at peace,

knowing we swim through these bodies

beyond our crown

beneath our feet

complete

in the profound simplicity

of stillness.

***

day mares

1.7.16

cold breeze & hard nips

a woman sings go ask alice 

and the naked children shushing me

under fallen ladders ex-lovers

with newfound company locked

out of the room of togetherness

outside, the observer watches

the time

a stolen wristwatch

a sun blistered lip,

salty like sea waves

& bad barganing

what golden melancholy brings

an even pace a meditation

a clearing of nebulous brain lobes

rotten with acid washed

down gopher holes

bruised & fallen tangerines

which do we shape shift into

focus our energy our hearts

we can be the potted plant

or are we already,

and who is the gardener?

****

san marcos sound wave

lights across the lake, starry

dogfights in the calle

endless & ghastly

cries of infants constant

like crickets

& fireworks

thrown reckless

like the piles of shit

scattered on cement

trumpets & flutes

balancing cop cars on fire

across the lake

peace in the balance

of turquoise caldera

the mother lake

has waves.

*

*

when i heard pretchel speak of

the navel—

bellybutton of the earth

blood sacrificed from the

hard hits

deep fingered

dirty regrets

just to sleep in a bed

away from the nightmares shadow/work

9-5 & 5-9

what a way to pass the time

we jump off the piers onto boats

trembling volcanos make our circles as we

kiss on the mouth

bless the food

break the blender

pull the Devil

karma

as orange the Sun understand

could twist that way

pure BLISS the goddess

we are all a part of

perfect nothingness

nonetheless

i am you

are me

what i do to you

i do to me

when i pour out my mind

like lemonade

the sun shines through

shitshow brigade

body ecstasy

outside the body

we were born as two

we were born without shoes

without the navel of the earth

that keeps

pulling us back.

***

friends with scorpions

the all-knowing scorpion

aliens

why do they return

to the same places

same beds like

second-time lovers

who think they can get by

hiding beneath your pillow

while you wonder in silence

what it will take to be strong

amid Surprise

**

5.18

sleep paralysis

& dead drunks on the sidewalk

brains hanging loose over

puddle of blood sangria

faerira any excuse

to drink to death

feel the pain in my kidneys

free the beating heart parasite

pulse in my body

pulse in my pulse

in my despair,

mary oliver’s wild geese sing,

tell me of yours

i will tell you mine

tell me why the shadow man

comes at the coldest part of night

sun rise before

we rise too

pretend these bodies

will keep us going

and the wind will carry us

in the way she pleases

living to die noble

or living humbly?

***

6.20

sweetwater

the little pleasures-

to graze my tongue along a frozen mango

perfectly ripe

deep orange, unique & so sensual,

craving union with the mouth

to remain nude all day in the jungle

to dance wildly to a drumbeat capable of visioning

to hear ruiz shout the problems of the mind

to think of life outside misery

to cook granola on the fire

to free the lice eggs from my head

to view problems as roadblocks

water-filled potholes choose

how to get through and admire the turtle.

reptilian overload

to see the birth of the day—

the fresh black baby chick

bounce under mamas wing

to roam freely & pick cactus spikes

to prepare dinner

all when the negativity has stepped out. 

***

jellyfish regenerate, they are the aliens of the sea. 

how to live naturally, harmoniously

here i am, meant to

reflect the fucked up system i am from,

to encourage others to return to the land.

wake up & work together

return to simplicity

not selfishness, pleasure & comfort

we meet the right people at the right time.

truth comes in action & awakening

not the the illusion of movement

or perception deception.

thank you iyke

***

*

not feeling

vs. feeling it all

meant to ascend

& experience nothing

do you love rollercoasters

or are we?

*

poems hidden in moleskins

in a sugar-addicted consumer country

malnutrition consciousness

school teachers in system to know the enemy

there’s a reason why the madmen cooped up in the jungle

away from us all

& there’s a reason why the city folk stay cooped up in concrete,

swarm like fish, absorbed in screens & button

virtual reality, where Gaia Mama

shows her pubes in remote rooftops

the belief in the debt coins & papers

manifest by three generations of puppeteers.

And yet-

who feels more alive?

i see the frustrated alien bacteria control the game

war mentality,

beheading kittens 

craves community-

yet blows them away with the word vomit violence.

hate the system, know the system

to use the system,let the system

control how much can we control?

how much will outside stimuli satisfy?

busy consume interweb-reliant

instantly gratified

forget what is really gratification, blessings

how many systems

no different species

we are infinite,

nonlinear time

no reptiles control

don’t get caught up in the spiderweb of the world

who weaves your dreams?

the spiders body, lemniscate

forever expanding

intend, manifest, unchain, let be.

you  hate poetry because it doesn’t move fast enough

& paints a portrait too pretty

unknowing that scenery

& the white spaces

speak and move in in ways

the human body could never.

spinning in the cycle of earthly life

creatures on the wheel, darwin

hired to tell us dog-eat-dog

& win not work together

lets separate for power & call it evolution.

but we eat too. we eat chemicals in candy

the white man’s crack, let memory be a hard drive

in the computers of our minds.

backpacker dilemma

live in love

live to get high

live in fear

live to die

live to live

***

morning coffee with crazed

one way to wake up.

irony of sitting & talking

the real parasite the defeat of pessimism

when truth speaks

don’t be insulted

swimming in sweat

in the mexican sun

caked dirt

being in isolation

makes one angrier?

lonelier?

working together

the real solution

instead of believing

in the money go-round

that separates us in our boxes

our safe.

*

in a meat-excessive society

to fight, kill, invade

poison the food

control the water

damage the sea

leak nuclear waste

when free energy

could fix it all?

ets walk, step by step,

mindful

in our place

in the evolution

of being, aware

of control, corruption

of our ripple, on ourselves

into the universe and under the stars.

remember what hicks said,

we are all expressions of the same ocean

6.16

each day i’m asked by a mexican man

why I’m traveling alone

they don’t understand

im not alone

last weeks companion

a parasite in my gut

and now i have a family of lice on my head.

eggs waiting to watch

you see

i attract the finest suitors to share myself with

you wouldn’t think they wouldn’t want to join me

as i walk for hours in vernal Mexican sun

eating only fruit

living away from traditional travelers

caught in the system

on vacation oil their money runs out

drinking their way along the hostel road

sightseeing the hits of their tourist books

you are your surroundings

you are your environment

express the unique wave

you image yourself to be

all your beliefs

shaped by stimuli, external

reflections

pregnant in the dreamscape.

*

fast-paced taqueria tales

i find it silly to spend much money on myself

pay the price of locals

& sit at the tamale stand

on the street corner

with teens and papas

& saucy mujer server

(always love that central american women are not afraid to laugh at you)

behind the counter like a dealer

in the casino of the calle.

bright lights

of the coke machine behind her

& bad television, sports that fuel the town

in the sugar-addicted novella.

division as entertainment.

hit me.

another tamale strikes the bar

with swift hands,

the 40 peso workday

soft camote sleeps in a bed of corn

under a blanket of hot sauce.

hit me.

*

a week of accidental fruitarianism.

can’t stand the heat

reptilian land

a far walk to the village

flesh-eating bacteria going around

the one who passes gives me a ride

with shotguns in the backseat

he eyes it & grins,

“are you scared?”

*

today a gang member

tattooed tears under his eye

in an iron blue shirt

large bodyguard

working the tourist turtle beach

like a chessboard

eyescans

hustling at the entrance

to watch all who come & go

like prey. he lent me

his nephew’s jacket

from his swanky rick roller

family car

and thought about

the slice of cheesecake in the dumpster

you can find sweet things hiding

in all corners of the earth.

*

pat watches as papayas

do the reverse-rainbow dance

satisfied, self-reliant

as the green parrots pass

& a new pair of eyes

hatch from the egg.

meanwhile, the masses dive

in binary systems

of separation, run the wheel of the money-go-round

chew on the potent chemicals,

live inside cement boxes,

domesticated mice working for money-driven madmen

but

since time isn’t linear

& the seeds have been planted

what you seek

is seeking you

in the karmic cycle

of non-attachment

non-aversion

true action.

with steady hands,

a quiet mind,

patience

you’ll watch the earth

return to tribe or die.

*

flora teaches us

to honor what’s growing

follow new life

all realities created

*

christmas eve in the mayan jungle

mules do the pleasure bankroll not he dirt

as the rainbow scale turkeys peek aimlessly from the forest

the jaguar stalks the deer behind us

& the howler monkeys do the tree-top tango.

their call like a lion

i practice the guitarita

watch makeshift football

& lazing hammock brothers sway

blistered soles from miles of dirt deep

treks through mosquito village

i miss my blood family

yet present with my tree family.

my ancestors in their mysteries

corn & snake gods

modern looters & night guards

body full like the moon,

blood sacrifices and love rituals on the jaguar pyramid,

solstice of the waves of this recycled life

of forgiveness.

*