#I don’t want “try weight watchers” and telling me my lack of focus is just cause I’m depressed

[nightofthelivingmeme]

Just out here, ready to scream because all my blood work came back normal so despite feeling like something is definitely wrong with me I am now labeled “just fat” despite the fact that I’ve been working out consistently for 3 months and all my clothes have more room.

Oh also he doesn’t think I have ADHD and I don’t have the time to explain to him that my guilt complex meant I hid any and all strugglin so my parents didn’t have to worry about it.

[miss-choco-chips]

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed. 

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.” 

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is. 

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing. 

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him. 

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of  orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters. 

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second.  If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive,  but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms. 

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion. 

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind. 

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him?  It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof. 

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets. 

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death. 

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now. 

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard. 

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

[faraway-in-headspace]

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states:  Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states:  A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states:  That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states:  Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

[ifeveristoday]

spoilers for #26 of Boom! verse Buffy

IN MEDIA RES!!! While I have done this in my own writing before and like using it, having #26 basically talking about the multiverse reveal in #25 while not showing any more of it is...incredibly annoying. I suspect Jeremy is holding it back for later issues, but ugh, I hate being Zeppoe-d like this, even though I ultimately enjoyed the issue.

things I liked without reservation:

Kendra and Faith becoming work friends and bonding over what a Slayer is supposed to do - ie, slay vampires, not get warm fuzzy feelings about them even though one of them is your former best friend. So the fallout of Faith staking Xander is still there, which is good.

Faith is trying not to let Buffy and Willow's weirdness about it get to her, but that's a stone that's just dying to be kicked over.

Kendra, Rose, and the little demon guy they've named Growly, watching TV (a ritual! with Giles!) at Giles's and Kendra's place. I love simple domestic quiet things, and the way the artist draws them - so literally soft. Patterned socks! Slayer and Normal (as far as we know) girlfriends. It can be done!

Giles being Giles and telling them he'll catch up on their show later.

And the quiet adult breakdown outside.

MOM AND DAD TIME - aka Anya messing/flirting with Giles, and him going no no no do not want, don't you understand I am VERY FRAGILE OVER THE END OF MY LAST RELATIONSHIP in a very restrained Giles manner and Anya just trolling him. Bliss. And aw, Anya saved him/them again.

Do I trust Anya? Hell no. I still think she is being the very omission of truth about what she's telling Morgan and the others.

Faith and Robin being propositioned for taking over for Giles and Buffy by the Mayor (I was expecting this but it's still a nice twist. Feels emotionally earned, you know?)

CORDELIA. WORKING FOR THE MAYOR AS A CLERK/ASSISTANT. FINALLY, a way to get her back into the narrative *and* she knows the potential trap Faith and Robin are walking into.

Ugh, Wesley really has learned nothing. This coup is not going to go his way.

things I'm kind of indifferent about:

Morgan being sequestered in one of Anya's pocket warehouses/universes biding her time. I like her as an original character a lot, but again - when you have too many characters, some are just going to be left out. Now we know her back story and why she killed those Watchers, it feels like Jeremy's phasing her out.

Only to bring in a new Vague Big No, We Promise, An EVEN BIGGER BADDEST BAD named Silas.

Like having the Mayor and Watcher Council team-up wasn't impressive enough?

Anyway, I don't care about Silas or his summoning of lurking demon dogs.

things I don't like:

Buffy and Willow breaking up, making up, and discovering they need each other. Again. I'm a bit frustrated - their relationship is a very important one from the OG Canon, but as later seasons proved, not one without enormous flaws due to characters growing up and lack of communication and biased writing - and I feel like Jeremy just doesn't know what to do with them besides having them fall out every other issue and then making up tearfully promising to be BFF.

Because the comics have established that Willow's platonic soulmate is Xander and that she's the love of his life, their relationship is going to be weighted differently than hers to Buffy. They've had a terrible loss, but because Xander is so formative to Willow's life (childhood besties!), his loss is going to hit her harder than it will with Buffy, understandably. So there's going to be a lot of trauma (you can't get away from it in any iteration of the Buffyverse) and I get the character beats Jordie and Jeremy laid down for Willow re: that. I loved the Willow miniseries as just some time to hang out with Willow without the Sunnydale drama.

But as the issues go on - there's a crack that started with his death that has created a schism with Buffy and Willow. I hesitate to call them best friends really, they're just close work colleagues to me - because all the high school stuff has faded into the background now.

But it feels like whenever they argue (both of them lashing out about the choices the other one made/didn't make) the reconciliation feels hollow afterward. Willow's blamed Buffy either indirectly/directly about Xander's death and bringing all this drama to her life more than once now, and Buffy just takes it.

And the story from Buffy's side is that she's suffering from PTSD from Hellmouth, seeing her other self die, and a will they won't they (firmly won't now) escapist relationship with Robin (the writers decided all the seesawing drama of Buffy's romantic relationships would be transplanted into her relationship with Willow I see), but she doesn't address what Willow (both regular and Darque flavor) says to her. She's just focused on slaying and trying to keep ahead of the council but I think I would have loved to see what she saw in Multiverse just so she could witness a better friendship with Willow.

I've been waiting for an issue where they really focus on Buffy and her problems not just solely tied into Slaying - a couple of panels in the last few issues were good, but for her eponymous line, Buffy is oddly missing from her own narrative. I like that the comics are giving underwritten/overshadowed characters their time in the sun and going more ensemble-like, but I miss Buffy. She's my emotional support character! She's my girl. I just think they could do more with her.

thing I'm cautiously embracing:

Embodied Ethan (from the OG timeline) getting stranded in the World WIthout Shrimp timeline and being possessed by his ghost. What even - how - it's going to be wild.

[ampleappleamble]

—

It was worth it.

The arduous trudge up the mountainside, the stares and whispers from strangers and crewmates alike, Ydwin's snarky little jabs, stripping to his skivvies and getting poked and prodded and scrubbed down with everyone watching– Hel, even going as far back as sailing to the Dead Floe in the first place, or following the Watcher through the White Void– it was totally, completely, absolutely worth going through all of it just to be here, now, in this perfumed paradise of a bath. Now all Vatnir had to do was find a way to never have to leave.

A gentle slosh of water at his shoulder told him he had a visitor, but he was in such bliss that he found he couldn't be bothered to open his eyes to see who it was. Luckily, Aloth's voice identified him readily enough. "Enjoying the baths, are we?" He could hear the amused smirk on the wizard's face, but the Godlike couldn't have cared less.

"It's incredible," Vatnir moaned, submerged up to his chin in the shimmering water. And it was. It was quite literally the best he could ever remember feeling. He'd never felt so relaxed, bobbing lazily in liquid warmth, his joints throbbing with relief as the burden of his body's weight was lifted from them. The short walk from the washing nook to the baths themselves had been a delicate and harrowing affair, and the temperature of the water had frightened him when he'd first stepped in. But by the time he'd waded in up to his chest, he'd begun to wonder if this was what being in love felt like.

A warm chuckle flowed into Vatnir's ears, tingled as it trickled down his spine. "Ordinarily I'd be loathe to say I told you so, but in this case I might just have to break that personal policy," Aloth teased gently. "Although now that I'm over here, I notice the water's gone a bit cool on this side. Perhaps I should say something to the stewards..."

"Don't bother. It's probably just me." Vatnir had always been told that as the progeny of the Beast of Winter, Rymrgand had gifted him some innate power over entropy, making him able to encourage decay on a whim. And he could, but only on non-living things that were already on the decline: he'd amused himself many times in his grim, lonely adolescence by willing Valbrendhür's rapidly cooling ekkevít down to room temperature, or commanding the old man's smoldering pipe to snuff out. He hadn't consciously chosen to cool the bathwater around him– he couldn't remember having done so, anyway– but then, he didn't consciously choose to give those who spent too much time around him head colds or nausea either. It just happened, and he had learned long ago not to question it, but to simply resign himself to the consequences of his nature.

Of course, he explained none of this to Aloth, who merely smiled awkwardly and changed the subject. "Axa really did only want to help you, you know. She's a kind and generous woman, but her enthusiasm can, at times, blind her to the smaller details. Like the fact that you were utterly miserable back there, under all that scrutiny." The look of pity on the other man's face would have bothered him ordinarily, but Vatnir found he couldn't really blame Aloth for feeling how he did. He had probably been quite a sight at first: skinny and shivering, swaddled in filthy bandages, eyes darting to and fro like a caged animal.

"I understand, I suppose," the priest sighed, watching his crewmates frolic and splash on the opposite side of the pool. "And I do appreciate your... uh, intervention. Tekēhu was correct in pointing out that we who are chosen by the gods are rarely allowed to choose for ourselves. I'm used to simply enduring misfortune and discomfort, not speaking my mind when it regards... well, myself, my wants."

Aloth hummed thoughtfully, and Vatnir tried– and failed– not to let his gaze wander over the other man, his beautiful body, his elegant face. "A position I'm not entirely unfamiliar with myself, I'm afraid, despite my lack of divine heritage– although the nobility of Aedyr certainly seem to fancy themselves on the same level as the gods more often than not." He chuckled at his own joke, saw that Vatnir was not laughing, cleared his throat, continued. "Axa is a very strong-willed woman, more than decisive enough for all of us, and at times her intensity can make her a bit... intimidating. But she is more sensitive and open-hearted than one might think, and one can always count on her to listen, to try to understand, and to make things right to the best of her ability." The elf smiled fondly, turned to regard the little woman lounging in the water some distance away, smoking and chatting happily with Pallegina. "She did for me, after all."

Vatnir was still debating whether it was appropriate to press for details– and realizing he might actually find Aloth more attractive than the Watcher– when he felt the bizarre sensation of the waters suddenly twisting and roiling around him; warm, invisible tendrils wound around his limbs and slithered across his chest and belly, lifting and caressing and tickling him. He started to cry out in surprise, but somewhere along the way it transformed into an odd little giggle, the sound made all the stranger by it coming from himself, of all kith.

Aloth crossed his arms over his chest and sighed impatiently. "Really, Tekēhu, we were trying to have a conversation–"

"Is that so? Ekera, he doesn't seem to mind the interruption." The Watershaper grinned mischievously, and with a flick of his wrist, the current carried Vatnir to his side. "Besides, I figured the waters could use some churning. It's gotten a bit cold on this side, wouldn't you say?" He winked down at the priest, flashing that gorgeous grin of his, and Vatnir felt as though his brains had been transmuted into porridge.

The wizard opened his mouth to say something, but upon looking at Vatnir– at the bruise-colored blush spreading over his sternum and clavicle, the furtive glance cast in Tekēhu's direction– he thought better of it and said something else instead. "Well. I've finished saying my piece, anyway, so... I'll leave you gentlemen to it, shall I?" He flashed a strange, knowing smile at the pair of Godlikes and turned away, wading across the bath and back into Axa's inviting company.

Leaving the two of them, Tekēhu and Vatnir, alone. Together. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods–

"May I?" The Marine Godlike gestured, and the water around them surged and swelled and pushed the two men to the side of the bathing pool, depositing Tekēhu with his back up against the tiled wall and Vatnir directly in front of him. Huge hands settled on his rickety shoulders, and Tekēhu squeezed gently, eliciting a soft, surprised gasp from the priest.

He felt the low rumble of Tekēhu's laughter vibrating in his chest, making little ripples in the water that rose goosebumps on Vatnir's skin. "Konstanten has been instructing me in the arts of relieving tension by way of massage," he murmured, "and if you don't mind my saying so, you look very tense indeed. Especially in the neck and shoulders. Just how much do your horns weigh, my friend?"

Vatnir felt as though his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he managed to stammer that he didn't really know. "It's not– I've never... uh, weighed them, or anything. Can't exactly remove them and put them on the scale. If only I could, I'd never put them back on again." What endearing banter, Vatnir. Go ahead and just kill the mood entirely, why don't you?

If Tekēhu was put off at all, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, his strong, steady hands worked the smaller man's shoulders, kneading the knots in his muscles and taking care to avoid the sores. "An understandable complaint, I say. They don't make it easy for us, do they, our heavenly patrons?" His thumb slid slowly over the nape of the priest's neck, and he couldn't help but grin triumphantly at the subsequent groan of pleasure. "Although, some of us do seem to have it a bit easier than others."

"You're telling me," Vatnir chuckled, starting to get his bearings back. "Some of us get tentacles and bioluminescence, some get feathers and hawk's eyes– and I get this." He gesticulated disparagingly at his withered, broken form, fingers trembling and numb.

"Come now,  it's not as bad as all that, is it?" The aumaua leaned down close to murmur in Vatnir's ear, his breath warming the elf's sallow cheek. "Word has it your Father... endowed you quite generously, moreso than most ordinary men, even. And I am not speaking of your horns, this time." He chuckled, his wet hands sliding slowly, salaciously, down Vatnir's arms. "Well... not the ones on your head, anyway."

He felt, for a moment, like he might actually die. This was it, the ultimate taboo broken at last, the unspeakable finally spoken. He was not at all prepared.

"Wh-what– I, y-you–" Vatnir sputtered and gibbered, pulling away from the huge man with a jerk before launching into a coughing fit, his heart hammering against his ribs, stomach tumbling, full of ice and acid. Usually his prolonged bouts of coughing at least gave him time to think up a lie or an excuse, but this time he could just barely focus enough to keep himself from vomiting or passing out, let alone think of something to say to... to that. Eventually when he caught his breath, he blurted the first full sentence he could piece together in his mangled mind: "H-how– who in the Hel told you that??"

"Serafen." The Watershaper's smile broadened, casual as ever as he leaned one elbow over the edge of the bath, propped his chin on his fist. "He entered the wrong changing booth, apparently, and got an eyeful of you with your robes up over your head. 'Biggest cock I've seen on kith or wilder,' I believe he said."

"That's– I can't believe–" The elf whined and clutched at himself, wrapping his arms around his torso and sinking into the water as though to hide from the accusation. He glared in Serafen's direction, his chattering teeth churning the water to foam in front of him, and the little blue bastard actually had the audacity to wink at him.

"A gift from the gods is nothing to be ashamed of, my friend," Tekēhu laughed, pulling him close again with a masterfully crafted undertow. "Unless, of course, one doesn't use the gifts bestowed upon him, for the... benefit of others."

Vatnir glanced up quickly into the aumaua's face, made eye contact for a split second before looking away– but that split second glance, the look on the little man's face, told Tekēhu everything he needed to know.

"You jest," he gasped, shocked. "You must! You mean to say– not even once have you–?"

The horned man flapped his bony hands at the Watershaper, breath hissing between his teeth. "For frost's sake, don't belt it out to the whole bathhouse! It's... it's no one's business but my own!"

He'd never seen Tekēhu look so serious before, so determined. "Apologies, truly," he said, quieter now but no less emphatic, "but this is a matter of great importance. How old are– no. No, I do not wish to know. I must offer it up to Mother Ngati, a lost thing, forgotten." He bowed his head in silent prayer, and Vatnir blinked at him, baffled and vaguely insulted.

"I'm– I'm a hundred-and-nine," he growled, wincing as Tekēhu grimaced in spiritual pain at this new knowledge, "and this is not a matter of importance, not in the slightest. It's simply– it's how things are, how they have been, all my life. Think about it– a priest of Rymrgand, raised from infancy in a clan that venerates him as an avatar of the ending of all things... this weak, sickly, twisted body... Who was I to pursue, eh? Who would willingly couple with me, break every taboo in the Land, risk execution, or worse, a slow, lingering death in the snow after being expelled from the clan and forced to wander the wastes alone? Who would deliberately ruin their life for... for this?" He gestured again at himself, less energetically this time, and hung his horned head low, sullen and defeated.

An uncomfortable silence hung between the two men for a moment, Vatnir cringing and wishing he'd said nothing, Tekēhu deep in contemplation, working through the priest's words in his head. At last, he reached out, slowly, carefully, and pulled the trembling elf close in a warm, intimate embrace. And in spite of it all, in spite of what the others might think or say about the two of them, Vatnir submitted completely, melting in the aumaua's arms while he tried in vain to stop shaking.

"After we have left this place, when we are back on the ship– there is a quiet, hidden place I should like to show you," Tekēhu whispered, sweet and sincere. "Ekera, there are many things I'd like to show you, if you'll allow me to. If you want it." His lips brushed the other man's temple, kissing him just below one of his horns, and Vatnir shuddered obscenely, longing for more. A thick finger slipped beneath his chin and tilted his head upwards, and he looked into the Watershaper's wet, black eyes.

"You'll find me? Below decks, later tonight?" The soft murmur reverberated in Tekēhu's chest as he spoke, and Vatnir felt it in his bones, in his loins. He let out a shaky sigh, lightly touched the scaly blue hand gripping his shoulder.

"Tonight, ja," he breathed, face hot beneath his mask. "Yes, I'll... I'll find you."

—

[we-live-in-a--society]

El Nacimiento del un Hombre Nuevo

The Downfall of Humanity – obtusely poetic phrase, prolixity, without a direct meaning, without a place, without a purpose, only a forage for youth, blatant lies; in other words – not fitting his taste. Each time someone pours it onto his lithe frame, a flame is ignited, a flash of disgust running down his body, since he believes that being an idealist gets you nowhere, at least nowhere significant, only to the Place of Eternal Disappointment.

Where you suffer.

Making sure you shatter.

And then begin your slaughter.

As the years go by, the circle completes itself, from the Dawn of Humanity and the Killing Monkeys to the Absolute Disorder and the Rise of Rats, filthy, sinewy rats that pop out of their hideouts just to rip you apart, piece by piece. Rip or be ripped – a motto of the New Order – and those who are unable to comprehend it are meant to extinct – natural selection in its most advanced form, leaving only the strongest specimens.

The Survivors.

The ones that are left to roam the earth in search for hell knows what, with endurance being their main principle, their drive towards inevitable, towards the place of unknown. Years ago it would terrify him, but today he doubts whether this world has anything grisly for him to offer, anything that would shatter him once more.

He was born in the first year of Clinton’s presidency, death of Audrey Hepburn, soaked in his mother’s tears, and that Buddha album, full title lost within the depths of his mind. It seems so far away now, not because of the twelvemonths but the variety of events following his graduation – a new, foolishly hopeful, beginning, and oh, what a fierce one in his case, carrying an incomprehensible disaster that has shaped the post-apocalyptic world. All it took was a ridiculously minuscule creature, cause of the outbreak – a single word, carrying such a powerful meaning – albeit leading to more than half of the population biting dust within the first few years.

Unbelievable, huh?

However, as the time went by, so did the slaughters, with people taking matters into their own hands, and now, depraved from any actual data, he can only assume the number of deceased, not that it bothers him much anymore, since according to one famous dictator’s words: “A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.”

When has he become this bitter?

Or more importantly, what is the point of asking a question if you already know the answer?

* * *

She feels numb, aching, detached from her body, yet present within, floating on a passage where she is capable of sustaining every single sensation, though unable to move, caught in a trap, too stunned and terrified to attempt any escape. At the very beginning she has made the following promise: I will not fall on my knees and beg, but the reliability of said assumption is not so zero-one anymore as she eyes her oppressors, standing tall and broad, with all the inglorious possibilities flashing through their minds, staring at her with full-blown pupils. The intensity of their gazes has her wanting to curl into a ball, hide somewhere deep within her soul, hoping it would ensure her safeness, take her back to a place where she would be floating free, deprived of all the unpleasant notions: trepidation, cruelty, and misery.

There were times when she did nothing else but wonder what it feels like to lose control over one’s body, forget how to fight, instead give in and accept one’s fate. She used to consider it as absurd, absolutely and utterly nonsensical

(“what if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense”),

wafting on a whimsical cloud called Faith, like a thoroughbred hypocrite would, pretending that choosing to believe in certain absolutes is not, by any means, a form of enslavement, a prison with silk-upholstered walls.

And so, she has become the thrall of her own convictions – another hopeless idealist within this cruel world, idealists that are meant to extinct.

“Will you cry for me, sweet girl?” One of them asks all of sudden – the person she used to call Clay back in the better days – with a mocking laughter that sends a jarring shiver down her spine. Instead of bothering to form a verbal reply, she keeps staring at the dusty concrete, the tiny patches of grass now ridiculously absorbing; everything to not look him in the eye.

“Answer him, bitch!” Jarring voice that has her flinching in disgust, or fear maybe, frame shaking like a leaf in the dusty fall breeze. The ability to form words has abandoned her long ago, presumably at the time when they tugged her away in the alley, hence the lack of ideas what she is supposed to say under such circumstances.

He, however, is pretty far from deciding that it would be a way more sensible to let it go, and so grasps her by the neck, pushing her up against the brick wall. She chokes on her breath, head bumping into the hard surface with a loud thud that sends a reverberating ache through her body, dark spots marking her vision. With an innate reflex, she grips his wrist, trying to yank him away, but he appears to be stronger as he slams her head back, this time on purpose, to stun the girl and so put a halt to her pitiful escape attempts.

“Just don’t fucking kill her, dude,” Clay warns, his voice breaking at the end, as if his consciousness managed to spoke through the thick barrier of borne animalism. Her eyes prick with tears threatening to run down her cheeks, awoken by the icy cold tone of his voice, cumulating with the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

“Relax,” he chides, although lets her go, so she is able to stand back at her feet instead of the tippy-toes, “I’ve got it all under control. Won’t be any use of her if she is dead.”

“You’re right, it won’t,” he nods, as if attempting to convince himself, which is at least how she wants to perceive the whole situation, to think that Clay has been forced to participate in it, that all he is doing consists of blatant, sharp-edged lies, that he already regrets even considering it in the first place.

(I sincerely doubt he does).

“Fucking told you so,” he huffs – a mannerism of yet another expert in the infamous field of manhandling people – however still quick to dart attention back to her – tensed, albeit passive. His gaze remains focused solely on the girl in front of him as if he possessed an ability to drill into her soul, and so uncover all the layers of horror and hatred, break her down and scatter the pieces on the dusty concrete for the benefit of all the watchers.

To be honest, she would rather die than let it happen.

(You are wasting time, Fabienne.)

And so, accordingly to guidance of her inner consciousness, she aims for the only spot she could think of in such a state – crotch, obviously – not very ingenious, either way efficiently enough. As if on some comical command, he lets her go, groaning in pain as he curls into a ball

(oh how the tables have turned),

and she is left with nothing else than make a run for desired freedom, her rip from the pavement surprisingly graceful, deprived of any unfavorable tripping. However, Clay is quick to steady that matter with a harsh tug of her leg that knocks the girl over onto the ground, forcing a scream out of her throat, a never-ending cry of Banshee, in hopes that it will alert someone who cares enough to help her.

(… and other lies people keep telling themselves)

She attempts to wriggle away from his grip, crawling on the dirty ground akin to some grotesque snake, with a tunnel vision that allows it to strive only for the ally’s intel, gravel pricking the exposed parts of its skin. For a brief moment, she does nothing else but wail, like some wounded animal, as if she went completely mad, kicking anything within her reach, but actually aiming for Clay, or rather for sweeping him off his feet. Although it all appears as success-oriented pursuit, her attempts are soon to be rectified with a sharp jerk and crushing weight brought upon her shoulders, stealing another breath from the terrified lass who is now forced to face the predators as one of them flips her onto the back as if she was nothing more than a dainty ragdoll.

(Just close your eyes and you will be alright.)

(… and other lies people keep telling themselves)

* * *

Through his life, he has gotten a chance to discover that certain things never change, which might as well be yet another lie that has been made up to protect the weakest among from the crushing weight of truth. Either way, he has noticed that forming habits somehow helps us in the darkest times, when we are unable to focus on anything but the negatives: grief, longing, and abandonment; allowing us to complete essential activities, even if caught in some sinister trance where we are barely able to acknowledge what is happening around us. He has always considered it as some unconventional form of a blessing, a route to headway, an acquiescence for pursuit, and much, much more but unfortunately he has never been good with words, and accordingly so – incapable of verbal expression.

Aside from habits, he has discovered the existence of routines, something that helps him to lead a day to day life in spite of unfavorable environment, and so keep himself attached to reality – a factor that becomes rather important during survival struggles. One of them appears to be a peaceful meal consumption, picked up from home and still relevant today despite all eventual threats, something that brings back memories of the better past and faces that somehow manage to hunt him even these days.

Nonetheless, as the years pass by, he finds it harder and harder to look at himself in the mirror, knowing that he is getting older, that death is creeping closer and closer until it captures him with its icy claws, draining any remains of life out of him. If he believed in any holy spirits, it would feel relieving to think of it as a reunion with everyone that had been left behind, but he sincerely doubts it, expecting nothing but the End, la Grande Finale as his mother would say, the Downfall of His Existence – a peace-bringing denouement.

But what is it worth?

Certainly more than an interrupted meal, whereas the harshness of such severance still leaves a caustic taste upon his tongue, the one that will not last long, albeit enough to be acknowledged, and so remembered.

His ears prick up at the tearing noise: a scream, a wail, a whine of a wounded animal; loud enough to awoke a will to come up to the source and silence the person himself, but instead he wonders whether such altruistic jeopardy is indeed necessary in this case. These are not even coherent words, just a croaky, unrelenting shriek that cumulates with the pile of growing irritation, but also wakes up some contradictory inkling that he should come down and help.

Therefore, he is quick to raise from the seat, soon stepping through the doorway and down the staircase, cautious steps echoing through the empty space. Having casted an eye on the street, he walks out of the building, heading towards the now dulling sound in face of all inhuman amount of screeching, eyes following every of a few turns, immediate to reach his destination.

Peeping from around the corner, he witnesses an odd scene playing in front of him, as if meant to be regarded – two chaps, even if of relatively average build, failing to subdue no one else than a dainty girl. While waiting for her to quiet down, he wonders what would be the most beneficial way to handle the oppressors, since of course shooting them would do the trick, but the real question is whether they are worth wasting any bullets.

Ergo, he picks up a brick, testing its weight in his hand with a few careless tosses, before he hides inside the nearest building, and throws it somewhere aside, hoping that the sound itself would be enough to alert them, nevertheless remaining in doubt about its efficiency. However, and much to his surprise, their movements halt while taking a moment to inspect the surroundings, as if trying to determine whether they simply misheard something, or whether the noise was real, eyes meeting in the end.

“The fuck was that?” The taller one curses angrily, not quite managing to hide the hint of trepidation within his voice.

“Infected?” His friend dwells with a tensed frown marking his forehead, a word that never fails to settle an ominous notion in the pit of his stomach, even despite all those years.

“Fuck infected!” He exclaims in exasperation, backing up a couple of steps. “And fuck this, man! You convinced me to do all of it, and if I get to die because of you I swear I’ll-”

“Hush,” he silences the unstable lad, the one that appears as more confident and trenchant, maybe also the one that will get to live longer, who knows, “I’m trying to fucking listen, okay?”

“Fuck you, man!” He bawls, keeping up with the irresponsible person attire, much to the watcher’s interest, “I’m outta here and outta this. If you wanna take her, be my fucking guest but I don’t fancy getting eaten by any of those fucking beasts.”

His friend just shakes his head with ironic disbelief, hissing a bunch of incoherent words to the girl below him, before he lets her go and calls out to the already retreating one. “Wait!” He whisper-shouts, quite an odd speech manner if he was being honest, and springs up from the ground, quick to follow the taller one’s traces, and so disappear around the final corner.

Having waited for their voices to mold into silence, he jumps through the empty window frame, landing on the concrete with a loud thud that alerts the confused lass. In an attempt to get up and most likely run away, she somehow manages to drag her body up, but regardless of the effort trips once more and falls down on her knees, an act that is accompanied by a pained moan. He watches her with an odd concoction of pity and amusement playing upon his face until she looks up to him, scared and perplexed, eyeing him with a mistrustful gaze.

The initial notion that hits her in time with the first glance is simple – he looks older, probably on the cusp between thirties and forties, exactly like a rugged survivor would, with toned forearms and prickly beard. But what eventually captures her attentions is a jarring straight-shaped scar across his eyebrow and cheek, which gives her the impression that the past assaulter must have failed to slash his eye for less than an inch or so. Under any other circumstances it would whip up certain uneasiness within her, however this time she is swept away with a relief towards this stranger, fighting the innate urge to express her gratitude in a more intimate way, a hug maybe, since that would be rather irresponsible and quite childish if she was being honest.

“Thank you,” she croaks instead, barely managing to get the words out of her constricted windpipe, either way accepts the offering hand that he holds for her to help the young woman rise from dusty ground. An involuntary shiver runs down her spine due to the close contact, his pleasantly warm in contrast with the frigid coldness of her flesh, callous texture scraping over her skin – a notion that she finds oddly distracting.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice all gravel and sandpaper, letting go of her hand as soon as she stands up on her feet again, watching her wipe the dust from her clothes.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” she chuckles nervously, refusing to look him in the eye now, her gaze sweeping over the surrounding in an annoyingly swift manner, before she finally meets his browns, much to his relief.

“Then don’t say anything,” he shrugs, not a relatively nice phrase, but either way he has got a point and she feels obligated to bear with it. Being honest here, he appears to be one of those harsh, unpleasant people to spend time with, but she, in turn, seems to be deprived of any decent alternative, certain that she has to convince the stranger into taking her in, at least for a couple of weeks until they reach another city where new opportunities will drop, allowing her to depart eventually.

“Um, okay,” she hums in agreement, still visibly tensed around him, which does not manage to slip past his attention. “Can we at least go somewhere less exposed?”

“We?” His eyebrow perks up – a display of partial incredulity. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m going back alone.”

“What? Why?” She utters, anxious as ever, since he must be overreacting at least for a tiny bit. “I won’t bother you, I promise. It’s just- I’ll probably be dead by tomorrow if you leave me here, and it all would be for nothing.”

“No,” he refuses with blatant simplicity, another ugly, harsh word that almost causes her to burst into tears due to all the pent-up emotions.

“Even if I promised I would leave you alone in the morning?” She tries once again, barely managing to swallow the thick lump down her throat – a telling sign of an approaching cry.

(She won’t.)

“No,” he repeats, already annoyed and anticipating their separation.

“But-” she begins – a fact that remains seemingly unnoticed by the harsh man as he walks past her, aiming for the ally’s intel. “Oh, great.”

He leaves her no other choice than follow him, despite his surly attitude and moderate approach, in face of the inevitable death that awaits her somewhere in the creeping night’s shadows. She is well-aware of the fact that he was the one who threw the brick, and the action itself wakes up something within her – an emotion so intoxicating that it feels crushing upon her chest – unable to be named

(calm down),

but worryingly influencing.

Throughout all these years, spent in strangling solitude, she has felt some foreign urge to mate with someone, and thus create at least a makeshift substitute for so-called family, unable to resist another opportunity – genesis of her personal damnation, nail in the coffin, but oh so terribly desired. In certain moments she finds herself unable to resist the sudden temptations, driven by a distinct, innate urge to carry on, in search for the necessary fulfilment, safety, and peace, while other times she is swept away with a lancing wave of anxiousness, an inkling that it would be foolish to pursuit, harmful even, that she would regret it later on, albeit not today.

Today she wishes to make it all happen.

Therefore, she follows him, jogging by his side to match the strides, seemingly exaggerated in length but either way bearable, despite his unpleasant tendencies to ignore her, as if pretending he has gone for a pondering, lonesome walk. Being honest here, the assumption fits him perfectly – a forlorn wolf amongst many, the one that rarely bothers to utter a decent sentence, not to mention his disability to see her as a human being, a sensitive creature, instead of a harmful nemesis.

According to her observations, people these days seem numb, depraved of any actual feelings, focused and alert for any dangers awaiting in the dark, or just around the corner, hid in the depths of their weeping souls, begging for redemption, for mercy. Many times before, she has heard that world is a cruel, empty place, lacking in the aforementioned qualities, and so offering damnation only – a burden that comes with blood stains on their hands, with sleepless nights, delirious wandering, no purpose, no place.

And what for?

Lost in her own thoughts, she barely notices that he has halted in front of one of abandoned buildings, slightly lower than the rest, entrance unblocked, as if inviting the passerby with a promise of a satisfactory loot

(am I one of them?),

or right the opposite – yet another threat lurking in the shadows, waiting for its prey. A dreadful shiver runs down her spine at the sinister thought, an inkling existing only to be confirmed or denied, whereas the ingenuous parts of her are putting emphasis on the former – a trait that is determined to abandon her somewhere in the future.

“We depart now, kid,” he announces bluntly, pointing in the opposite direction. “If you head west, you’ll leave the city and reach the nearby woods. Analogically, if you go opposite, it’ll lead you to the center area, but I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“And why is that?” She inquires, frowning in confusion.

“The area is already occupied,” he explains, quick to add a brief, “not negotiable,” as if to clarify her visible doubts.

“Who lives there?” Another question leaves her lips, as if to prolong their hopefully brief encounter.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he spats involuntary, another bitter manner to catch her off guard, not attentive enough to care about possible misunderstandings.

“I still don’t get it,” she shrugs, staring at him with silent anticipation, as if she indeed expected an answer, like it would astonish him.

“It’s from the Old World,” he attempts to cuts the matter short, but she is not yet to disappoint him even this time, another query following his lack of explanation.

“What does it mean then?”

“It means that in certain situations inquisitiveness might lead to a scrape,” he sighs in defeat, but bestows her with the simplest gloss either way.

“If you say so,” she huffs, clearly annoyed with his lacking answers, but is immediate to pursuit with the plot that has been left hanging for a brief moment. “Can’t spend a night here, though? Not negotiable too? Just keep in mind that by forcing me to leave you’re practically digging up my grave.”

Manipulating is a filthy practice, according to what his mother used to tell him on multiple occasions, that he is supposed to be a decent man, living a candid life of a meticulous and conscientious person, amongst other lies, with moral behavior on the very peak of her own Pyramid of Absurd. The rules might have applied to the Old World, but the New Order most certainly does not allow any nostalgia to blossom, a penchant for recreation, for rebirth, nipping it all in the bud, drowning their wicked souls in the tears of those who were perished.

Ironic.

“You think I’m some fucking charity, don’t you?” He chuckles bitterly, a nasty manner that sends a shiver down her spine in time with the newfound realization – of course he would want her to pay, what was she even thinking?

“What kind of payment are you interested in?” She gulps, instinctively backing a few step away from him, ready to run in case it will be necessary. “Sex?”

“Your dignity must have abandoned you long ago if that’s the first offer you pop out with,” he comments harshly, a hint of a mocking smirk playing upon his lips, which might as well be only a matter of her perception.

“Does it mean I can stay then?” She ascertains, not quite managing to hide the tremor within her voice, resolves running thin in face of his judgmental attitude.

“I guess so,” he nods, as if finally willing to admit that she is rather improbable to ditch said matter, “but conditions first,” he shushes her with a dismissive gesture. “I’m rather meticulous when it comes to my stuff, which means no touching, no snooping. What’s mine is mine, don’t forget that. If I catch you breaking the rules, you’re out. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” she confirms, opting for the simplest possible answer, since it appears as the most sensible too, a technique that would most likely talk some reason into him.

“We’ll see about that,” he remarks at last, and without waiting for her answer, he disappears inside the building, steps echoing in the empty space, which leaves her with no other choice than to follow him. She matches his pace, although remains a few stairs behind him, running her hand past the railing, as she climbs up to face the inevitable, with bits of dust covering her fingertips.

Moments later, they march through the door, only to be greeted by the sight of something that must have been an office installation back in the days, with a row of desks and a coach by the window, a furniture that is already occupied as if to line up with her expectations that concern the matter of being forced to spend the following night on the floor. In the meantime, he manages to barricade the door with a book shelf, now lacking in the better parts of its prior contents– void and deplorable – a flawless fit for the New World, waking up that peculiar longing for something she has never got a chance to experience but either way misses it – another exemplary paradox. She perches on the sofa, her spine awkwardly straightened as her eyes remain glued to him, a notion that he does not fail to notice, but ignores it either way, satisfied with the result of put effort.

They stick to the silence for quite a while, a time needed for her to relax on the seat, and him to eat in the corner, back supported by the wall – an action that does not slip past her attention, smell of food redirecting her focus to own discomfort. Nevertheless, she feels like it would be off top to come up and ask for a share, considering that he is more likely to refuse, not that she finds it hard to believe, but on the other hand at some point filling up her stomach would become an obligation rather than just an option.

“Hungry?” He asks, creeping in between her thoughts, much to her relief actually, in face of undisputable lack of ideas when it comes to figuring out the most efficient approach.

“Starving,” she affirms with a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips – a sign of nonverbal alleviation.

“C’mere,” he motions her towards with a universal wrist flick, and despite the innate uneasiness, she obeys, stomach acting as the eventual decision maker. She plops down on the empty space in front of him, good few feet away in case he might want to touch her for no actual reason, leaving him with no other choice than throw whatever he is having at her, partly impressed that she manages to catch it.

“Enjoy your meal,” he adds, a promise of something darker that is yet to come, “it might be the last.”

* * *

Over the course of time, he has managed to notice something distinctive about her personality, something that he is incapable of addressing, frustrating but ever present in the least convenient form possible, itching akin to an insect bite that calls for a scratch ever so often. In addition, the aspect itself is considered as something he was not fully aware of in the following years, but the Change has brought yet another conspicuous realization upon him.

He might be not as talented at reading people as he perceived himself to be.

At first, it appeared as a rather galling factor, a bookish example of noting more than a splendid mistake, but then it transferred into something else, something of entirely different nature – an awakening, utterly clarifying in its simple form. Swept with augmenting realizations, as sensible as any other person would be in a middle of a mental turmoil, he felt obligated to switch his lifestyle for obvious reasons.

Having someone else around is unerring to shift someone’s perspective, forcing him to adjust – a primeval tactic that comes with evolution, or natural selection, call it however you want. Nonetheless, in his case the whole process has formed some bizarre juxtaposition of two almost opposite factors – company and serenity, depraving each from the other, clawing until the bone peaks through the paper-thin epithelium. In one hand he can barely stand her presence, the fact that she is lurking behind him like a shadow, capable of remaining dead silent throughout the day, while in other hand she keeps asking questions, sometimes completely out of context, but he suspects each of them might lead to a greater goal.

Tonight has also been chosen for the former purpose, and while they are hidden safely

(more or less)

under the roof, the storm is raging around the motel, heavy droplets beating out a rhythm on the tiles – a melody of primordiality. It brings him certain solitude, a pensive longing for what he left behind – demons of the past that hunt him no matter where he is harboring, no matter where he is hiking, no matter where he is heading; always beset, caught in a trap. There are times when he craves for nothing else than hush their excruciating wails, strangle and watch them suffer for a change, switch the strict roles – a prelude for another thought to occur – if so, it would all be for nothing, all he has gone through, all he has done just to stand here today, bathed in the metaphorical sun.

All as simple as that.

“You’re quiet today,” he notes out of thin air, nevertheless drawing her attention, eyes flicking up to glance at him. She does not bother to answer, instead her gaze adverts to the side, focusing on the peeling wallpaper that for some reasons seems more bearable than the sight of him. “Are you even listening?” He repeats, a hint of annoyance lacing his voice, shaped by the blatant lack of reaction. “Fabienne!”

“I’m sorry,” she mutters under her breath, eyes meeting his for a brief moment, “I was just… you know, thinking.”

“About anything particular?” He asks as if only to carry on with the conversation – a meaningless pursuit, a silly trace picked up from society. For a brief moment, she dares to consider that he might, indeed, be interested in her pointless babbling, pursuit to reveal the answers, reasons why she is still here.

“Am I supposed to think about anything particular?” She retorts, voice distant and dreamy, detached from reality – a trait that is certain to get her killed one day. “I found some notes here while you were out, scavenging the store, and I… I can’t believe it. It all seems so absurd, like some tale that parents would tell their children, naïve and artless, unable to find a different meaning.”

“You can always just tell me what was in the notes,” he sighs, somehow fed up with her far-fetched responses as the one who rather stands for retrieving less complicated solutions, or simply forming an essential statement.

“Just a poem, but it’s so beautifully expressive,” she sighs, smiling to herself – probably without realizing it – an otherworldly, evanescent visage, “and some diary writing. Maybe it’s silly, but browsing through the Old World stuff always makes me better, like I’m capable of somehow sharing my life with them, transferring to their reality, and so become the person that I’ve always wanted to.”

“And why is that? Why become another person?” He queries bluntly, and even though she had a decent amount of time to get used to his mannerisms, he is still capable of throwing her off guard in certain moments.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it,” she admits, accompanied by a nervous chuckle. “To be honest, each time it makes me feel so empty, as if my whole life was lacking in something essential.”

Without a clue what to say, he only hums in response, a notion that he is all too familiar with, unable to depart, leave it somewhere behind, and gain that fluent speech manners that prompt suitable words when needed. He is partly aware that it is, indeed, the cause why she perceives him as a rude person, the one who does not give a fig about what she is willing to communicate, which might as well mean that her judgment is not as flawless as it appears to be in her eyes.

Why does it have to amuse him so much?

While they were talking, the heavy drumming of rain – a signature of the fall season – seemed to subside a bit, and now he can only imagine the fresh scent of concrete – one of few life’s aspects that he has always found quite pleasing. However, his attention is quick to switch back to her, now facing the opposite wall, back turned to him, curled into a ball, as it helps her to fall asleep – probably some sort of innate wont, or maybe trust issues that deter her from taking more comfortable position.

(You would want that, wouldn’t you?)

Maybe laying down next to her will be inappropriate, but in all honesty he has grown fed up with sleeping on the floor or armchairs anytime they doss in a place with only one bed, and since his doubts considering whether she will oppose are rather strong, he settles next to her, mattress dipping due to extra weight. She flinches as soon as she senses the shift, subconsciously dragging her body away from his arm range, but does not bother to object, right according to his suspicions. While his head is resting on the pillow, eyes close on their own, enjoying the serenity of late evening, along with the subtle moonlight peeking through the thin gap between the heavy curtains, oddly unprepared for what is about to come.

“How did you get these scars?” She asks out of nowhere, a question that hangs in the air for a longer while, as if waiting to be consumed, thick akin to a morning mist.

“Fell down the stairs once,” he evades, flashing her a brief glance, attracted by the sideways movement, which allows her to face him.

“You didn’t,” she chuckles, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“I did,” he counters somehow impishly, such an unusual occurrence when it comes to him, considering he has never struck her as a particularly easygoing man.

“I’m sorry if that was too interfering,” she elucidates, apologetic smile lacing her lips. “I didn’t mean to sound rude or anything. I was just curious, that’s it, and I perfectly understand if you don’t want to tell me the whole story, it’s just-”

“I think I was around sixteen when I got it,” he interrupts, rectifying her rushed explanation that, for some reasons, was considered as adequate in such case. “The thing is, at that time I used to ride a bike quite a lot, and by saying ‘a lot’ I mean every day on the route to high school and back. It was all peachy keen, until I got drunk one day.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve always wondered what it means to get drunk in the first place,” she admits, a shy smile, finely subtle, blossoming upon her face. “Actually I think it’s a perfect example of one of those things that you hear someone mentioning from time to time, but at the same time have no idea how it’s supposed to feel like.”

“Dizzy but in a fine way, and as you might know, people’s responses tend to differ,” he explains, a clarification that she surely does not find neither detailed nor specific enough. “I don’t think I have the capacity to expound it well, since-”

“Yeah, I know,” she shrugs it off, seemingly tired with his habit of developing quite a decent amount of exaggerated explications, “it’s one of those things you have to experience to know for sure.”

“Something like that,” he agrees, nevertheless immediate to get back on the formerly abandoned track. “Anyway, while I was trying to somehow make it back home, I… let’s say… crashed into a bus stop, the glass part to be specific, and as you might already surmise, some of the fragments cut my face, while others pricked other parts of my skin, forearms for instance.”

“What happened with you afterwards?” She asks, voice laced with some odd kind of compassion, the one that she is not supposed to feel towards him, as her gaze remains glued to his profile, while he, in turn, opts for the celling.

“Well, they patched me up, that’s all,” he shrugs, casting Fabienne a brief glance that has her own elude to the side, cheeks flushed with embarrassment each time he catches her stare by accident. He would be lying if he said it never amused him to see her in such a state – caught hand in a cookie jar – while the real question is how deep she has managed to dive, whether it is still enough to retreat or not really.

He will never truly know.

“I’m sorry,” she indicates, a worried frown making an appearance upon her face.

“For what? That I was a stupid kid who did nothing else than bring it down on himself?” He huffs, sometimes caught in doubt whether it is only a matter of compassion, or whether she seeks some gain within it. “I don’t think there is anything to feel sorry for.”

“Why do you always have to such a jerk?” She accuses, a little too blatant for his own taste, nevertheless immediate to catch his attention, especially when she shoots up straight, maybe in order to get the height predominance.

“Calling me names won’t be beneficial,” he states, so matter-of-factly and much to her upset, “considering I could walk away any time.”

“You’re-”

“Yeah, do go on,” he encourages, voice completely flat, deprived of anything that might be labelled as an emotional layer, something that never failed to amaze, or rather unsettle her. She sometimes doubts he is a human after all. “I ain’t stopping you.”

“What are you so afraid of?” She practically cries out, a turmoil of contradict emotions raging inside her, only to be fueled by his lack of answer – nothing more than a constraint to make her blunder more, dig up her own grave. “That you’d let someone too close and lose him afterwards? So it all would be for nothing?” Not a word. “Everything happens for a reason, why can’t you see it? Why do you have to be so blind?”

“Less effort means more effort,” he adds, a sentence that she has heard him utter on multiple occasions in the past, something that never fails to agitate her, and so desert of the possibility to comprehend its virtual meaning.

“So that’s all you have to say?” She spats, bitter venom lingering on the tip of her tongue, nevertheless not meant to surpass his.

Silence speaks a thousand words.

She feels like it might as well be his motto, words of wisdom that he keeps telling himself instead of forming a decent, verbal reply that would please the interlocutor – yet another futile pursuit in the eyes of this odd man lying next to her. She often dwells upon what life factors he actually perceives as important, meaningful, more or less significant, the ones that are probable to make a real difference, not a mere shift like removing a stain from a fabric. Therefore, at some point of their relationship she has managed to realize that the odd savior complex, combined with his reconditeness entices her more than she cares to admit.

Shame.

Since his eyelids remain shut, she gains a chance to watch him, at least briefly, caught in such a vulnerable state – not a day-to-day occurrence by any means – a single forearm draped over his face, blocking every mere gleam of moonlight – the guide of those who got lost within the dusky depths of night. His chest is raising and falling in time with each steady inhale, making her wonder whether it is nothing more than a false façade, a serenity that is meant to hide the turmoil inside, raging storm just below the surface.

Probably not.

She sighs heavily, a sound that is loud enough to draw his attention, one hazel eye falling open to meet her gaze once more that night. He keeps them locked for a brief moment, until she involuntarily adverts, escaping the privilege to maintain the contact for a little longer, and he only snorts in response – nasal substitute for a proper laugh. He is partly aware of the thoughts hidden underneath, but has never taken a chance to absorb them in any way, rather than pretend that they are non-existent, whereas this time seems different.

This time he decides to acknowledge that the girl is, indeed, ‘in love’ with him.

(Well, that’s too bad.)

Ironically, even a person like him – unable to comprehend the diversity of emotions, considering they do not classify as anything interesting

(we see what we wat to see) –

has managed to notice the variety of her acts, including the subtle ones, from the occasional, bashful glances to the unusual concoctions of words that carry one and one association only. Somehow, he pities her, although there is nothing to be done here, despite so many aspects that are scattered around until fixed, rather than wait for it to subside, or leave her hanging one day – an action that would lead to bilateral loneliness, something that he is not quite certain he is willing to restore. Maybe traveling with someone else is nothing more than yet another developing habit, paired with an urge to spend time with certain person, seemingly unable to switch back to the Life Before.

(People get used to everything.)

“I’m going to sleep,” the exclamation that slices through the mist of silence, thick, and laced with something that he cannot quite place, a hint of expectance maybe, so he remains speechless, allowing her to continue.

But it never comes, so instead he opts for the simplest, old-fashioned, “sleep tight,” immediate to turn around on the side, curling into a ball, more or less, since it helps to maintain body heat – something that he had a questionable pleasure of testing on the course of multiple freezing nights – eyes closing on their own.

(You know what they say, Craig...)

Silence speaks a thousand words.

* * *

A mere brush upon his shoulder, a faint shuffling sound, dim moonlight shining through the thin gap, or rather the concoction of three factors is what appears to be the cause of his abrupt awakening. He springs up in alarm – another habit developed throughout all these years – eyes scanning the room with meticulous precision, at least as much as the circumstances allow him to, in search for a factor that appears to exist apart of usual room components.

Unable to perceive anything significant, his gaze eventually lands on a silhouette beside him - a girl lying on her side, hand tossed carelessly on the spot previously occupied by him. He sighs in relief as soon as the newfound realization sweeps upon him, the one that brings final denouement – her accidental slap had to be the cause of said awakening.

With cleared out mind, he focuses more distinctly on Fabienne, lying on the side, face turned towards him - an unmissable opportunity to study her visage, since such behavior would not be tolerated on daily bases. At the current blink, she appears as otherworldly, lost within the depths of her own mind, somewhere far, far away, not that he finds it hard to believe, since it forms quite a common association – dreaming equals traveling.

Ironic.

At first, he considers, quite strongly, waking her up, but then another thought occurs, an inkling, driven by intuition, or rather opportunistic nature, that he might, in fact, abandon her now if he really wanted. She will not even notice his departure, remaining asleep, safe in her on dreamscape, left to uncover the truth in the morning as light paints her face, taking away all false beliefs.

Why does it have to be so tough then?

Stepping out if the door is almost effortless in physical matter, walking down the stairs also, heading down the streets joins the gathering, now of three. It is almost absurd, how incapable of admitting certain actualities he is, a grown-up man and still afraid of words – lines of letters on the newsprint. He is a blind man, a liar, lost within his own illusion, simplifications, an expert in covering up the verity, but what for?

Suffering?

No.

A feeling that is foreign, without a proper word to address it, impossible to be described, but ever present in his life, marking him like the glass once did.

(I don't want to die without any scars.)

(Sardonic, cynical, caustic…)

Ironic.

As if with a mind of its own, his hand hovers over her body, muscles twitching with anticipative tension, clueless about what he is willing to do, without a plan for a change. After a few haywire moments, filled with offbeat anticipation, his fingers twirl through her hair, carefully brushing out a few stray tangles. She flinches in response to the touch, and for one fatal moment he is certain she is just about to wake up, frozen on the spot, hand still in between her strands, nevertheless she is quick to relax, which prompts him to resume.

Truth to be told, he has always found her enticing – petite girl with delicate nose and nimble fingers – so innocent and even prettier, oddly fitting in his tastes. Over the course of time, he has learned to admire her as a woman, or rather not silence the encouraging whispers, whereas the desire to perceive himself in terms of a decent man, full of unspoken virtues, righteous and worthy, never made it less challenging. ‘Twisted morality’ is what some people like to call it – remaining pure yet flawed, endless attempts, frustrating pursuits, sleepless nights – and while it might be considered interesting, he has never been able to comprehend why. It carries the truth about him – he has failed and he has failed spectacularly, squandering many years of self-improvement and abnegations just to look twice at the wrong person that has never supposed to attract his attention in the first place.

Who would have told she would be the one to drag him down?

“First time?” A voice that slices through silence, exclamation in a quiet room, in the gloomy night, uttered for him and him only, and as any sane man in his place would, he almost jumps out of his skin, caught hand in a cookie jar. Without a clue about what he is supposed to say, he only stares at her as if he could not believe she was real, awake, and speaking – a passerby from a parallel reality.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” ah yes, back on track and as believable as always.

“Whatever, Craig,” she tosses him a careless glance, “you might as well keep lying to yourself, as you presumably have done your whole life, or admit what’s been on your mind all this time so we could have the ‘adult’s talk’.”

“Is that what you want?” He huffs, voice laced with a blossoming hint of impatience. “Are you even aware of what does it mean?”

“What means what?” She raises to his level, eyes locked, not the one to look away for a change.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighs heavily, all of sudden reminding her of an old man, tired with temporal life, too yellow to end it albeit too exhausted to keep it up.

“No,” she shakes her head in disbelief, an ugly furrow marking her forehead; for some reasons he has never liked when girls frown, “it does, believe me.”

“That’s not a determinant,” he retorts drily, voice flat akin to his judgments, “since apparently everything matters to you. But if you-”

Before he gets a chance to finish his sentence, her lips are on his, kissing him with some unplaceable, fierce passion, all while he is too stunned to react, caught in delirious unawareness. Time seems to halt for a moment – parallel lines that collide – where impossible becomes possible, where everything melts together just to come into being as a formless… pulp.

Sounds lovely.

However, in reality it takes nothing more than a few brief seconds for her to pull away, leaving him in bewilderment , mouth agape as if he forgot shutting it lies within his abilities. He stares at her in disbelief, and she cannot help but look away, flushed in embarrassment

(what have I done?)

hands folded on her lap, akin to a child waiting for a reprimand. Whatever that display was, it is already gone, the confidence, the exasperation, the vehemence, and she is back to her old self – the rapid downfall following every climax.

“Why did you kiss me?” He manages to utter after a few longer moments of silence, no accusation, no vexation, just plain, old formlessness.

She gulps.

“No reason?” He reiterates, this time with a hint of annoyance lacing his voice, unusually expecting more than yet another evasive answer.

(We desire what we cannot provide.)

“What is it?” He repeats, bitter, impatient, awaiting. “Cat’s got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry,” she mutters under her breath, glancing at him as if to ascertain that he is still eyeing her with the same displeased expression, “I shouldn’t have. It was kinda inappropriate to say the least, and I’m just… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he holds her gaze for a brief moment, a hint of what might as well be a smile lacing his lips, “you probably won’t like it, but we can always pretend like it never happened.”

“You’re right,” she agrees, “I won’t like it.”

“So what do you expect me to do about it instead?” He inquires – a question with determined answer – locking eyes with her, and this time she does not attempt an escape. There is something offbeat hidden within her gaze, something that he has never seen on her, feminine but fatale in consequences, and part of him lives for it, soaks it up like a sponge. Thirst and longing is what speaks through him, takes control over his mind – the steering wheel – in order to crash the car if given half a chance – regret-bringing attempts, vain abnegations.

“I want you to…” she halts, as if pondering her next words, picky and never meant to be satisfied, “to, um… consummate our relationship.”

Euphemisms are useless.

“Foolish girl,” he jeers, but she opts for ignoring it, aiming for the long-awaited denouement rather than yet another argument, “you have no idea what you’re asking for, do you.”

Not a question by any means.

“Let’s just give it a try and see where it’ll take us, ‘kay?” She proposes, scooting a little closer to him, knees touching – the simplest of contacts that sends a subtle shiver down his spine. “Say something, please.”

“Okay,” he agrees carefully, slowly uttering the given word, “but I ain’t gonna fuck you, and you won’t ask for that.” Being honest here, she is not sure whether she likes the authoritarian order. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal,” she nods, throat parched and mind foggy all of sudden – unable to come up with a more descriptive answer.

“Come here then,” he bids, patting his thigh – a non-verbal encouragement that might be required sooner than later – as he leans back to rest comfortably against the wall. She follows his command, inching closer and closer towards him until he is able to direct her the rest of the way, settling her on his lap with a bit of help from the girl.

He troubles with recalling the last time he had someone in such position, months maybe, her body heat prominent despite two layers of clothing, fueling him up more than he cares to admit. He should not have even considered it in the first place, agreeing to her proposition, laying down on the bed, letting her join his voyage – mistakes and misjudgments, piling up until he is incapable of seeing the very top one.

(You won’t see anything afterwards, we’ll take care of it.)

“How far are you willing to go?”

(Ha! How diplomatic.)

“I don’t know, really,” she chuckles quietly, or rather nervously, her gaze adverting to the side, “and honestly, I have no idea what ‘far’ means.”

“Fine then,” he brushes off, voice distant, as if the information was yet to reach his comprehension, while his fingers seem preoccupied with her hair again, combing it gently to the side. “Let’s try it differently. Will taking off your clothes be an issue for you?”

“Partly yes,” she admits, nevertheless immediate to rectify her words, just as he suspected, “but not entirely. You know what I mean, right?”

“Perfectly,” he ascertains, with a barely noticeable smirk playing upon his lips – a factor that changes everything about his visage, almost everything to be exact, the glint in his eye that she is unable to place, seemingly mere nuance, yet perspective-shifting. At this point Fabienne is positive she will never forget said countenance – a hunter within a dream, prayer of the night, craver of oblivion, wayfarer without a guide, guide of a wayfarer – one and one man only.

Craig.

The man that currently takes away her privilege to respond, kissing her once again, tasting her lips with cautious precision, as if he had every intention to memorize all those unfamiliar

(not for long)

parts of her, yet to be discovered. As the caress is deepening, his hands slide lower until they settle on her waist, squeezing the soft flesh with enough pressure to receive a breathless, feminine gasp that awakes something within him, a part that has been meticulously buried down, not meant to be dug out, at least not by her.

Despite being barely able to perceive what is happening around him, he still manages to sense how her hands glide smoothly through his longish hair, tugging at the strands for the slightest bit, most likely fueled by carnal frustrations, eliciting a muffled groan from him. The gesture, even if innate and quite hackneyed, is the cause of his abrupt lounge backwards, leaving her in bewilderment, caught off guard, as she keeps their gazes locked, ignoring the fiery blush marking her cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” he rasps, voice huskier than usual, a mundane change that appears to be enough for an almost foreign sensation to blossom in the pit of her stomach, something that rarely invades her body. At this peculiar moment he looks akin to a lunatic – delirious and mind-swept – with restless eyes, heavy breaths, mussed hair – a personification of lust-ridden instabilities that billow in the confinement of his soul, retreating his ability to think straight, to perceive the reality in the way he once used to.

He is a broken man.

(Was, is, and will be.)

She only nods her head, considering the ability of forming words to have abandoned her lately, to which he responds, or rather his body does, as if having a mind on its own, with one of his hands slipping underneath the beige sweater, eliciting a wave of goosebumps, as the pads of his fingers tease the bare flesh. He traces the protruding lines of her ribs, entranced with how they expand in time with each shallow pant, following the path up until he meets with one if her breasts, dragging the very pad of his fingers over the pert nub. She flinches at the contact, attempting to scoot away from him in the first reflex, but he holds her steady with a firm grip of her hip, drawing a breathy gasp from the lass that is immediate to transmute into a quiet, feminine moan.

“Do that again,” she begs softly, her voice small in the empty room, echoing through the long-lived walls akin to a promise of something fresh to perceive, something from the Old Days. ”Please.”

Mere word, breathless promise, bashful request – minuscule nuances that transfigure the whole concept, a potency of mysterious and misunderstood, never meant to be explained – something that remarks certain aspects of his life. She seems to agree with him on this one, idealism be damned, and in face of his lacking responses, she opts for taking the matter in her own hands, covering his own and squeezing afterwards, her eyes falling shut for a moment. Much to her relief, he decides to go along with her, showering her with variety of contradictory sensations, from gentle brushes to harsh tugs that have her squirming in his lap, as her hands ball into fists, clutching on his t-shirt.

She appears as desperate, beyond such to be exact, doe eyes staring at him, now filled with carnal admixtures, foreign in its salacious nature, irking him to pursuit, to break the promise, to take her as soon as possible, before she turns to dust; to relish the moment, and so finally be able to achieve the long-craved gratification. It takes a shorter amount of time than ever implied or expected for all inhibitions to leave his mind, to slip away through the thin gap that separates the door from dusty floor, float into the night.

(She is the devil.)

Gradually, he lifts up her sweater, exposing the sliver of flat stomach, pale skin contrasting with dim moonlight, while the other hands still teases the plush flesh of her breasts. She arches towards his touch, as if in an attempt to minimalize the distance, insatiable and aching for more – mercy that he is willing to deliver.

In accordance with the prior assumptions, he tugs the garment up, coaxing her to remove it the rest of the way, to which she complies, unusually so, tossing it aside on the mattress briefly afterwards. In a reflex that outruns anything else within the dazed man’s mind, his had traces the creamy skin, painting it with invisible strokes that only increase the burning in her core. Truth to be told, she is still a bit too skinny, nevertheless appearing healthier than at the very beginning of their

(damnation)

journey, with more flesh than bones to hold onto. She remains silent throughout the process, with mouth slightly agape and eyes half-closed, until his lips attach to the tender skin below her ear and suck, not enough to leave marks

(yet)

but to redirect her attention, to the point where she utters a soft gasp, tangling her fingers within his hair as if urging him to do pursue.

“I’ve always dreamed of something like this,” she admits, her voice distant, lost between the traces of past, somewhere far away yet ever present. Maybe she is expecting an actual answer this time, however he feels like it would be crude to break the silence, to wash away the calmness, to disrupt the night’s creatures, so he only hums in response, acknowledging that he is, indeed, paying attention. “Craig?”

(He’s not much attentive, isn’t he?)

“Any particular requests you have in mind?” He purrs against her skin, gruff, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Yes,” she nods, retreating a dash from him to meet his eyes, foreheads bumping as she leans into him, free and unrestrained, nipples brushing against his t-shirt distinctly enough to fuel the restless throbbing between his legs.

“Such as…?” He almost groans, all of sudden finding it harder to focus, caught off guard by a mere scrape – details that shift the whole perception.

“Fuck me,” she purrs against his lips, tongue darting out to taste the plush flesh – an act that he would consider ostentatiously vulgar under any other circumstances, however this time he catches himself wishing to experience it once again.

“No,” he counters despite the aforementioned impulse, left to watch how the alluring expression drain from her face, making a place for newfound frustrations and disappointments to blossom.

“Why?” She snorts, not bothering to hide the blunt disappointment as she departs from him, albeit remains settled on his lap for obvious reasons. “Because all of sudden you have some moral values?” No answer. “You think I’m some tart without a taste and self-respect that would jump into any opportunity to fuck someone?”

“That’s not the case and I think we both know that,” he evades, as smoothly as always, his hand brushing her hip in a manner that might be almost considered as gentle, or even sweet, distracting her for a brief moment.

“Then what’s the case?” She inquires, a hint of desperation lacing her voice, carrying all of her inhibitions, all resentments – the evidence of her frailness.

“I think it’s too soon for you,” he explains, all while his thumb is rubbing tiny circles on her skin, leaving a tingling trait behind that somehow manages to break the train of thoughts once more. “I’m not trying to say we can’t fool around from time to time, only that you should wait for someone else, someone more… meaningful to you.”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” she huffs in annoyance, swatting his hands away as she speaks. “Do you even believe in any of it? Honestly.”

“My beliefs aren’t important,” he sighs, suddenly giving her the same impression as before – tired and old, rugged and seasoned, already on his way to reach the inevitable.

“Then why you-”

Depraving her of any chances to finish the sentence, he joins their lips for what was supposed to be nothing more than a chaste kiss, but she manages to break his resolve once again that night, tongue darting out to get a proper taste. It is electrifying, rich, dazing, combined with the manner that she flicks her tongue over his, branding his mind more efficiently than any incandescent rod, a memory never to be wiped. He almost groans in relief when she throws herself into his arms once more, molding her body into his, breasts pressed against his chest in a way that must be painful for such a petite, tender girl, with only the thin cotton of his tee separating their heated skins.

Neither of them exchange a word

(they can only do harm)

after they break apart, and instead, his arms fly up to remove the troublesome barrier that is his t-shirt, exposing his flesh to the judgmental moonlight that only emphasizes the firm physique. Surely not the sublime built man, albeit slim, with nicely shaped muscles, enough to appear as fit and masculine in her eyes, creating an image of something that is certain to hunt her in the few following nights.

She wants to lick him all over.

But yet, she opts for running her hand down the freshly exposed flesh, enjoying the simplicity of said gesture, the smoothness of his skin, sparse hair slipping through her fingers as she rakes them down, scratching his skin as she goes. What bothers her more is the linear pattern of various scars, paining him like an inferior artist would, their texture coarse beneath her fingertips. She cannot help but wonder what kind of story they hold, laced with obnoxious dramatism, or maybe unobtrusive suffering – an answer that he is unable to provide.

(“Better keep our histories to ourselves.”)

Preoccupied with exploring what he has to offer, she fails to notice how his hands shift from the innocent place around her waist to the crease between her thighs, undoing the zipper of her trousers with a graceful flick of his wrist. Without giving her a chance to realize what is happening, as if caught in some lustful trance, he pushes past the fabric barrier, and she jerks at the contact, even if not direct, nevertheless not protesting.

Instead her arms fly up to grip his shoulders for more stable position, her hips raising up – a wordless command for him to push her jeans down the rest of the way. He complies without a word of protest, quick to toss the garment on the mattress, eyes glued to the smooth skin, the contrast it creates in comparison with the dark material of his pants.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” she interrupts herself with a flurried chuckle, “but I’ve never been this nervous.”

“Not much surprising, isn’t it?” He mutters into her hair, holding the trembling body in his arms, fingers grazing her sides in a leisure manner, until she departs from him on her own, doe eyes staring right into his own as if in an attempt to gaze into his soul, to uncover all the impure thoughts he had about her. “But we don’t have to do it if you’re not ready.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing,” she giggles – a reminiscence of all those silly, unstable girls he had a dubious pleasure to interact with multiple times in the past, “and I also think you know what my answer will be.”

“Should I take it as ‘yes’ then?” Nod. “Say it.”

“Yes,” she gulps, invaded with a notion that her declarations appears overly terminal for her own tastes, arising a wave of sudden uneasiness that never fails to sweep Fabienne of her feet.

“Then roll over,” he prompts with a subtle bow – an implication for her to move in a right direction, an inkling that she will feel more comfortable without looking directly into his eyes.

“What?” She shakes her head for the slightest, probably to meet with reality once again, to wipe out the hazy smile currently lacing her lips, unusually confused.

“Just face the wall,” he reiterates, to which she complies, following the path he has set from her, finally laying back to rest against his chest. His arms raise to encircle her waist, one hand settling on her hip, tips of his fingers dipping just below the waistband to tease the sensitive skin there, while she ignores the urge to jerk away from his grip.

She has never been this aware of her body, in a fragmental sense of course, perceiving each part individually, as if her skeleton was not a construction of two hundred and six bones, but instead each one of them was a separate organism. Probably the last aspect that sex is referred to on daily basis, but she has grown to embrace the occasional weirdness that is carried within her thoughts, pushing the unpleasantness in the back of her mind, burring it among other displeasures.

(Reality is a prison.)

While she is maneuvering between the cogitations, his fingers skim past the fabric until they reach the soft crease between her thighs, warm wetness that covers the very tips. She gasps at the alien sensation, fighting the foreign urge to jerk her hips, and instead opts for gripping his forearm, unnecessary tight, but the notion is yet to reach any of their minds, occupied with the Things of Greater Matter.

He is the one to come to senses first, woken up by an irritant stab of pain, caused by her nails, beginning with the simplest of touches, a mere brush over her clit that sends a jolt of electricity up her spine, a tingling sensation that spreads all the way to her toes. A quiet moan slips past her lips in addition, hips raising on their own, already asking for more, more that he is willing to deliver, evident in a way his strokes become firmer, albeit not much yet, since overwhelming her from the very first shot is not his intension by any means.

It feels odd to say the least, considering her lack of experience in said department, excluding those few incidents when she was lying late at night, devoting into aspects she barely had an insight into, out of plain curiosity, not to mention that they were nothing more than a child’s play comparing to this in so, so many aspects.

Begging with the reference towards his fingertips, or rather how much rougher, much more calloused they are than hers, providing a pleasant friction that surprisingly manages to surpass the disturbing embarrassment that blossoms somewhere within her mind. Then her focus shifts to the leisure pace that he has chosen for some reasons, a factor that is rather quick to appear as frustrating, meant to be rewritten – an idea he seems opposed to as soon as her hips begin to grind experimentally against his hand, smearing the wetness over the palm, something that he is supposed to find disgusting, at least according to common decency.

But not this time.

She, in turn, finds herself in a desperate need to speak, to verbalize her cravings, and so speed up the process, yet for some reasons troubles with doing so, throat too tight to let out any words. While he can undoubtedly sense the need, he decides against giving her the relief that comes with acknowledging it, much to her despair, lust-filled frustrations that lace her being into some grotesque knot, impossible to unravel. Not even once before she has felt something in such an intense way, resonating all the way to her toes, abounded in carnalities – the incontestable cause of said concentration issues.

While neither of them is willing to exchange a word, he allows himself to focus more on the girl atop him: her breathy sighs, quiet mewls, and urgent moans – attention that she does not seem to mind at the moment – a factor not as surprising as it may seem. Over the course of various sexual encounters, he has come to one, rather distinctive, conclusion: every woman driven past the very specific point is meant to forget all those make-believe assumptions, along with all of the shame, all of the worry that is carried within.

All in due course, of course.

(Patience is a virtue.)

“Craig,” she gaps in such a wanton manner, his name rolling out of her tongue, as if she was barely capable of uttering a different word, with a tunnel vision that shifts her entire perspective, “I need more.”

“Addictive, isn’t it?” He rasps into her ear, warm breath tickling the tender skin, as his fingers simultaneously pick up the pace, along with the pressure, hips pushing up on their own to meet his movements. “Christ, you’re so wet.”

For what has to be nothing more than just a split second, his exclamation reverberates underneath her skull, resonating all the way to her soul,

(bold to assume you have one)

painting it with wicked, sinful things that block the way back, never again meant to remain unchanged, pure, without flaws – yet another part of the ever-decaying matter. It may sound depressing if put this way, and yet appears as such a perfect match for this world – empty, morose, and dusty.

What has she become?

Apart from the sidetrack of thoughts, she can tell something is just about to happen, teetering on the edge, while bracing for a jump that is yet to come, presumably sooner than expected, insides coiling in anticipation. Vaguely aware of what is awaiting for her at the end of the rainbow, she arches into his touch, willing to speed up the process – innate trait that is carried within every carnal creature, rooted deep within the simplest of structures.

And then it comes, rapid rainfall, tidal wave that hits the shore, arching her back to the point where it becomes truly painful, and yet she is unable to care at the moment, her attention shifted solely to the burning between her legs. Nevertheless, the foreign feeling, impressive in its intensity, is quick to subside, so quick that for a split second she is invaded by an inkling that it was not even real, another creation of a person’s questionable mind, whereas the leftover tingling proves it wrong.

Lost in the delirious aftermath, she shifts in his embrace, locking his hand between her legs, as if to keep him connected, reassuring that he will not be able to leave her hanging there, caught in one of the most vulnerable states possible. Her mouth falls agape a couple of times, before she actually manages to utter a word, still high in the clouds, while the downfall is rather gradual for a change.

“That was,” she murmurs under her breath, barely distinctly enough for him to catch, “quite something.”

(No, it wasn’t. You just fingered a seventeen year old girl until she came. There’s nothing impressive about it.)

(Such a pathetic excuse for a male pride.)

“Wanna do it again?” He purrs, the hoarseness of his voice sending a rapid shiver down her spine, depraving her of any leftover sagacity, but she seems too delirious to care, or even realize.

Either way, she nods her head, spreading her legs again to give him a decent motion range, and as if on a command, he picks up where he left, fingers back to gliding over the swollen folds. This time, however, he reaches past the familiar area, the very tips getting introduced with the clenched entrance. She spasms promptly with the teasing touch, legs shifting in evident impatience, eyes glued to the peeling wallpaper, as if she was afraid to look at what he seems so preoccupied with.

Men are so predictable.

Truth to be told, as her height is gradually subsiding, she experiences some odd composition of contradict emotions that cascades down her, parallel lines that break the law, life-defining paradox. Deprived of any sensible analysis, she faces yet another profound challenge that requires creating at least a reconnection, something that will decrease the sharp juxtaposition, that will smooth out the edges, knock down the wall that separates all disturbing shame from the carnal craving.

Impossible?

Well, maybe.

“Wait,” she interrupts, hand flying to grip his wrist as a simplest move prevention, a tingle of urgency lacing her voice.

“What is it?” He asks, fingers stroking her inner thigh in a tender manner that is so unlike him, as if in an attempt to soothe her ragging nerves.

“I don’t know. I just… I feel so dirty, but at the same want more,” she sighs, her gaze dropping to the hand on her leg, observing how it glides smoothly over her skin. “Honestly, I had no idea it’d be this complicated.”

“Told you so,” he signifies, a dash insensitively, but it would be a lie to deny that over the course of time she has managed to grow accustom with more-than-occasional harsh manners. “But more importantly, do you want me to stop?”

“That’s not the case,” she counters, quick to roll over – a movement that catches him off guard for a split second, jade green meeting hazel. In order to gain some necessary stability, her hands settle atop his shoulders once again, while his, in turn take a steady grasp on her hips. As their eyes remain locked, a realization sweeps upon her, blunt implication that she has been aware of seemingly since ever, hidden in the depths of her soul.

“I like when you touch me,” she admits, her gaze dropping to his chest for a mere second, preoccupied with its rhythmical raises and falls.

“Do you now,” he replies teasingly, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips – such an unusual sight to behold. “And what are you willing to do with it?”

“Bold to assume I have the slightest idea,” she murmurs against his lips, foreheads bumping into one another as she leans in, brushing his chest almost unnoticeably, and yet the skin-to-skin contact sets his core on fire. Depraved of an ability to speak, as her nipples graze his flesh – dance of death, sinful, macabre image, branded within his mind – a promise of something yet to come – he is only left to watch as she departs from him, longing burning deep within his soul, unusually quick to shred the remaining layer of clothing, tossing it aside carelessly.

Thud.

Although the noise is relatively silent, it snaps something within him – a frail reed – something that forces him to rearrange the grip around her hips to a more convenient one, reversing their positions, her back now pressed to the mattress. She squeals in response to the unexpected shift, then giggles – a girlish sound that he hates so badly, but somehow manages to tolerate under these circumstances.

(You are such a pathetic liar.)

“What are you doing?” She asks, amusement dancing behind her gaze, as she presses a whisper of a kiss at the corner of his lips, knowing well enough what it does to him, and most likely enjoying seeing him in such a state – hair tousled, breathing heavy, so hard it physically hurts. “Thought you said that you ain’t gonna fuck me.”

“Mmm… fuck,” he groans, dropping his head to her shoulder in some display of teenage-related helplessness, a heavy sigh billowing upon her flushed skin.

“Please,” she whines, wriggling below him in an attempt to grind against him. A heavy sigh slips past her lips as her clit catches the rough denim of his jeans, uneven nails digging into his shoulder blades in response to the intense stimulation. “Don’t you feel how wet I am?”

(I do, perfectly.)

“I’m sorry, honey, but the answer is no,” he demurs, with intents to sound apologetic rather than hypocritical, nevertheless managing to fail on every front possible. In face of a clear ability to sense his inner turmoil, her hands slips into his hair, dragging him down until their lips collide, hips grinding in slow, sensual circles, moaning into his mouth, as he responds to the kiss, tongue flicking against hers. Blushing at the thought that concerns what she is about to do, her hand reaches between her legs, tapping his hip on a way to redirect his attention, until her fingers glide over the swollen folds, eliciting a breathless sigh as an innate response to the gentle stroke.

Distracted enough, he breaks away, gaze adverting down, only to be greeted by the sight of her subtle caresses, something that sends a violent shiver down his spine, nevertheless subsided as soon as another thought occurs.

Cheap eroticism is what she indicates.

And he loathes cheap eroticism.

(Such a pathetic liar…)

She whimpers softly as his eyes skim over her form in a scrutinizing manner that she finds oddly arousing, ticking her nerves akin to grass while strolling through a lush lea, evoking an ephemeral shiver – dubious in its existence. What eventually forms an unsolvable conundrum is the expression marking his face – a countenance of contradictories – whereas his eyes burn with something that is supposed to be called ‘lust’ – a word that lays quite far from how she perceives it, hopeless idealist within her decaying habitat.

“Fuck,” he groans, a disclamation of fatigue that is gradually untying the strings of his being, “stop it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” She teases, vibrating with unusual confidence, most likely fueled by youthful greed that has every fiber of her body screaming for completion – a crack within his resolve.

“Won’t drop it, will you?” he huffs, lacing it with a hint of exasperation – an obvious attempt to sound steady and terminal, nonetheless entirely futile, considering the betrayal of his own voice: rough like a sandpaper, breathy at the end. “Fine then. I’ll give you what you’ve been bargaining for oh so desperately, but under one condition,” no answer, “You won’t pull that shit on me ever again. I’m genuinely fed up with your manipulative tendencies.”

“Anything, Craig,”

(Who is lying now, huh?)

she sighs, hands dropping on her stomach akin to some limp ragdoll, eyes piercing through his in a manner that almost causes him to snap back, considering all the entertaining features of the wall above.

Not wasting any more time, his hands reach the belt, fumbling with the tricky buckle for a few longer moments, until it falls apart with a soft click, soon to be abandoned on the floor. He has always considered such an act in terms of something terminal , how the clothes fall on said surface with a dull thud – transition between two phases.

Then come the jeans, all while he is standing up, especially for aforementioned act, watching her like a predator would observe his prey, gaze dark and heavy, burning into her flesh. She squirms slightly, in need to release some of the tension that he has brought upon her, as her legs close on their own, all of sudden bashful in face of inevitable. Lured by the shift, he glances at her figure, now propped on the elbows, quick to remove the remaining barrier, baring his body for her eyes to peek.

In the past he would considered exposure as a line-up for vulnerability, two equal functions, overlapping on the coordinate system, joined for eternity. However, due to the un-going process of so called growing up, or aging as some people might call it, he discovered that as every truth, it holds a subliminal lie.

(Exception proves the rule.)

Undoubtedly, some situations require a different way of thinking, specific approach, at times working out for one and one instance only – a factor that becomes a flawless example, not leaving any space for hesitancies that blossom within the insecure minds, invading them akin to excess weed on the rye field.

Whereas he is too old to hesitate.

“Spread your legs, Fabienne,” he prompts, hands resting on bended knees, the trembling of her frame now palpable on his fingertips. He gives her flesh a brief squeeze – an attempt of reassurance to which she complies, limbs tilting to the sides, inviting him in – a proposition that he gladly accepts, settling between the outstretched limbs. Her calves wrap around his waist, since she feels like keeping herself spread in such way is both awkward and rather inconvenient, the subtle flex of his muscles palpable upon her skin from now on, as he leans in more, nudging her folds in process. She is oddly afraid to look down, considering it is safe to assume that the sight alone is more than probable to scare her away – an opponent for the need to change something in her life, something significant, special even

(every snowflake consists of its unique pattern),

which might as well be yet another example of what the word ‘exaggerate’ really means.

“Don’t look so scared,” he adds, a ghost of a soothing smile passing his countenance, or maybe the result of yet another make-believed creation of her mind. “I don’t intend to hurt you.”

“But it is going to hurt anyway, right?” She ascertains, her lips sewed in a thin line, cheeks flushed, nails digging into his sides in anticipation.

“It varies how much,” an explanation that clouds her brain with even more unsolved matters, rather than satisfy her, but she takes it anyway, deprived of a better alternative.

One last glance is thrown over her, one eyebrow perked up in query – all it takes for her to give a brief nod of reaffirmation, followed by an even softer “yes,” slipped past her trembling lips. To say she felt nervous would be a mere euphemism, her stomach doing somersaults, anticipating the inevitable – yet another paradox, to be afraid of what one wants.

Absurd.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his hips snap up, forcing a choked cry out of her throat, nails clutching at his sides, hips withdrawing from his in a reflexive reaction to the sudden intrusion, nevertheless the sting appears as not quite willing to subside, at least as willing as she would like it to be.

“’M sorry,” he groans, gravel and sandpaper, rough and guttural. “Too fast?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, troubling to catch her breath, lungs seemingly unable to fit all the required air inside, so she gladly accepts the merciful halt – an opportunity to enjoy the moment, or rather examine all the merest sensations that come along: a scrape over her inner walls, fluttering pain that follows, and the pulsing fulfillment, so foreign in its nature.

To say she wants more would be a mere euphemism.

“Craig,” she gasps, engraving his name in a manner that sends yet another electrifying shiver down his spine, caught in a breathless anticipation, “do something, please.”

And who is he to deny her anything?

His hips rock forward, experimentally still, intending to check her reaction, to ascertain she is, indeed, ready to pursuit, to which she responds with a movement so innate, flawless in its borne simplicity – a push towards his body. The whole act seems so surreal to him – a throwback to the teenage years – as if he could not believe it was real, as if it was yet another dream, supposed to end up in no time – sharp, blinding finale – while he is wishing for right the opposite. Nevertheless, the conclusion is evident, maybe off-top but still obvious: the damned lass has a vice tight grip, so unfitting to the fragile exterior – a threat to blow it all up embarrassingly quickly, something that he is determined not to let happen.

“You gotta relax, darling,” he hisses through the gritted teeth, failing to contain the trembling of his own muscles – an evidence of his efforts.

(Easier said than done.)

She only manages to utter a soft hum in response, eyes shutting tight, as if it was supposed to help her focus, ribcage rhythmically expanding with each cautious exhale. Briefly afterwards, she regains the partial control over her own body, dubious in its effectiveness, however lacking in a better alternative. Still and all, her muscles relax around him, as if coaxing him to move, and he complies without further objections, hips snapping forward with a relieved groan, forcing a feminine squeal from the woman below.

The sensation is odd to say the least, revoking contradict reactions; in one hand her body welcomes it, relieved and thankful for the long-craved stimulation, while in the other she cannot help but wonder how close is the correlation between this and being ripped in half – the neighboring house or just the room? In spite of that she somehow grows accustomed with the unusual stretch, still in genuine hope that what now is just a dubiously comfortable fullness will transform into the so-called pleasure sooner than later, or more straightforward – that her suppositions are meant to be confirmed.

One thing for certain – Craig seems to enjoy it more than she does, in fact his countenance speaks for itself: eyes half-closed, not quite meeting hers, mouth slightly agape, labored breaths audible in the empty room. Nevertheless, he utters almost no sound as he rocks into her, not that she finds his manner surprising, rather predictable, that he will not outstand the day-to-day lack of words, if not for the occasional grunts she would suspect the deafness. The previously so-called ‘soft baritone’ has managed to transform into something gravelly, guttural – a change that is gradual, yet evident with every following groan, scratching her ears in one of the most pleasant way.

However, as the time passes and her focus shift more towards the commencements of something that might as well be the pristine bliss, so fussed-about, her insides coiling in a telling way, relish flicking over her nerves. She arches toward him now, determined for an increase, whether in pace, or depth – a gesture that he takes for granted, relieved to hear her subconscious purr.

“Mmm… give me more, I want more, please,” she chants, voice betraying her akin to a pack of cigarettes hidden insides teenager’s wardrobe, tremulous and desperate. Urging him to react, her nails dig into his sides, drawing a pained hiss from the man above, who is quick to grasp her by the calf and drape one of her legs over his shoulder, forcing a surprised cry from the brunette below.

As if on some grotesque command, all of the purpose air leaves her lungs, refusing to get back inside, insides clenching around him uncontrollably, to the point where he suspects he might have overestimated her for quite a bit – a matter that she is quick to rectify with the simplest of acknowledgments – a kiss, a slow, sensual kiss. Another mellow, feminine mewl slips past her lips, as if meant for him to swallow, something that still lies beyond her self-control field, and being honest here, she has been wishing to make it happen for quite a while – allow herself to be vulnerable.

The last liberty that this world tolerates.

While with him it all seems possible, at hand, licit when accompanied by him – foolish, silly lies, a factor that remains unnoticed for her own good. By any means, it is not sub rosa that she often find herself stuck within a constant dream, dream that considers aspect beyond her reach, aspects that do not fit the New Order by any means, but lead an ever-present life rooted deep within her consciousness.

Someone to love.

(Long live the idealists!)

Back in the temporal world, his lips detach from hers softly, drawing her back from the alien reverie, as they linger for a bit longer, brushing the plush bottom lip with such tenderness that it catches her off-guard for a brief moment. However, he is immediate to strive for the contrast, picking up the pace seemingly out of nowhere, eliciting a reedy whine from her that, in turn, makes him twitch in anticipation for more – a craving not willing to subside just yet.

While she writhes below him, attempting to match his pace, he takes his time to eye her once more that night, gaze fixated on the subtle swings of her breasts, desire-awoken flush covering her neck, all the way up to the glassy eyes, staring right at him. He maintains the contact, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips – a gesture that she subliminally repeats – as his grip around her thigh perceptibly tightens, fingers digging into the flesh, muscles flexing with effort.

She is able to sense the change lingering in the air – a prove that something is lurking in the shadows, just around the corner, waiting to be discovered, prearranged for her and her only – a notion that has never supposed to be awoken in the first place. Another shiver runs down her spine, as his pupils dilate even further – two pools of pitch black, surrounded by the thin rim of hazel – mesmerizing, yet malevolent – crossed by the protruding scar that has never appeared as more ominous before.

His vicious tendencies has always been quite obvious to her – nothing more than survivor’s traits that are incrementally developing as they descend further into madness, or as some prefer to address it – pursue with life. Nevertheless, the raging ardor, shadowing his gaze, evokes a wave of goosebumps upon her skin, to the point when she barely manages to fight the urge to look away, and it creeps her more than she cares to admit. The thought itself sends an excessive shiver down her spine, and while she is expecting the shift sooner than later, she sincerely doubts he is meaning to hurt her in a severe way, although is well aware that whatever is slinking within the deeps his soul lies beyond her comprehension.

However, the aspect itself might as well be labeled as two-faced, consisting of twain seemingly contradict components: trepidation that has never supposed to be a turn-on. It is ironic, indeed, but at the same time factual, more than she cares to admit, partly wishing it have never occurred in the first place.

(Some things are better left unsaid.)

(Craig?)

She would have to be blind to miss it – the glimmer hidden behind his gaze, sinister, ominous, maybe also be the closest to his true form she will ever get, the intimidating, dark, and mysterious alter-ego that might be just another prove of her dramatic tendencies.

She almost screams when he pushes her leg away and his hands settle on the junction where her neck meets the shoulder, more than certain that he is just about to crash her windpipe, and yet nothing like this happens. Instead, his mouth falls open, incoherent words rolling down his tongue, some barely audible, outshadowed with delirious passion, one of a kind and only for her to catch, to irk her ears in the most sinful way – a promise of what is just about to come.

He wishes he would be able to determine for how long he has been wanting to make it happen – another immoral craving within this rotten world – and truth to be told, he is barely capable of containing his rapacity, not only in the physical sense but also spiritual, excitement evident within his movements. Aside from that, he can sense how close she is, clenching around him rhythmically, hips raising on their own to meet his thrusts, and when their mouths collide, she utters a relieved moan, her insides spasming for the second time that night, seemingly more violently than before, which might as well be yet another exaggeration. Sadly, this is not the right moment to get lost in the sensation, since impregnating

(such a loathsome word)

her is the last thing he aims for, and accordingly so, he pulls out, painting her chest with a splash of whitish liquid.

Still lost in the delirious, post-orgasmic bliss, she barely acknowledges the change, lying boneless and spent on the old mattress, mind numb for the first time in quite a while, which might be the real reason why people are so attracted to anything sex-related – a moment of obliviousness – willing to pay even the most ridiculous, sky-high price for the shortest of intervals.

“Pretty auspicious bargain, isn’t it honey?”

* * *

A letter is all she left, a promise of a better world, carried within a fragile sheet of paper, last promise she wanted to verbalize – harsh words for such a tender lass. Ironically, she seemed secure for the first time in her life, blunt edges of defined characters burning into his skull, whispers of life that she had left behind.

They held no pain.

No, they were soaked in it, ‘hold’ is a mere euphemism.

For years he thought he could felt nothing, not a mere scrape of sorrow, fear, desperation, but also some distant felicity, distant calmness – something that she has brought upon him, priceless gift for all their years together. Still in the Old World, she used to claim ice-cream truck music was her favorite sound, always the one to stand first in the queue, while he never had that particular fondness towards the cooling treat, nevertheless accompanied her every single time in case she would hurt herself.

She was always so clumsy.

Not a fit for this world.

So similar – an explanation point,

Reason why he is fond of Fabienne.

Melodic voice, jade green eyes.

“What are you thinking about, Craig?”

The Downfall of Humanity.

Created: 07/26/20

Completed: 11/01/20

Edited: 11/03/20

[crysj88]

Phylax Avengers x oc Prologue

Phylax: Ancient Greek. Watcher, protector, sentinel, guardian.

Bennett Lancaster grew up in her small hometown with her head full of stories of heroes, from the latest action flick to the oldest of Greek myths. Going into private security and moving away from her small hometown, she knew would bring her adventures. She never imagined that it would put her in the middle of the next generation of heroes. (Rating Teen.)

Tony x oc (platonic), Natasha x oc (slowburn)

Word count: 4212

Chapter warnings: cheating, child death, blood, injury

Mrs. Bethany Lancaster watched her four older children as they ran out of the house. Nora would watch the three little ones and it would give her some peace and quiet as long as the baby stayed asleep. Thirty solid minutes with no disasters was a small miracle. It gave her time to catch up on housework, which she had lacked since baby number five, Zach, arrived. She checked on the three month old before turning back to the chores at hand.  

She had the most recent pile of laundry folded and stacked the only thing left was matching the socks. That was when she heard the scream. 

“Momma!”  Beth looked up to see her 6 year old daughter, Bennett racing towards the house. Her face red and there were obvious tear tracks. Panic. That was what was in her daughter’s face. She ran to the yard meeting her half way. The girl was crying so hard that understanding her words was near impossible. “Fitzy, Fitzy. Momma...Fitzy.” Beth scooped the crying girl in her arms and headed farther into the open fields. “Nora, Leo,” she called for her two oldest children.

Bennett buried her head in her mother’s shoulder. “Fitzy.” 

Bethany’s heart raced as she ran towards the distant call returned by her 15-year-old daughter. “Momma. Help it’s Fitz.” 

The sight that met Bethany Lancaster’s eyes was one that every mother fears. A small body lay in the creek, blood soaked through his short blonde hair. His face pale and lips blue. Bethany handed the crying Bennett to Nora and knelt by the boy. “What happened?” She felt for a pulse and then listened for a breath but found neither. 

“I don’t know. We were playing in the field. Fitz wanted a turn with the kite but Leo had it. The next thing I remember we were here and Fitz was like this.” The older girl took deep breaths trying to calm herself to take care of her sister. 

Bethany began the process of CPR knowing it was no use. She sent Leo to the house to call 911. Blood slid down the creek bed as she tried to pump life back into her young son. 

“Fitzy!” Bennett cried, kicking Nora sharply in the leg so the older girl would drop her. As soon as she hit the ground the girl scrambled to her twin brother. “Fitzy, wake up,” her tears dripped to his cheeks, “Fitzy!” 

When the ambulance arrived it was too late. Bennett cried in her mother’s arms pleading for her brother to get up. Nora had returned to the house shortly after Leo and was caring for Zachary.

Bennett’s mother clung tightly to the girl. Small bloody handprints appeared on the fabric of her shirt as the girl fought to reach her brother as the coroner zipped the body bag. Fitz’s face disappearing from their view. The small girl went weak in her mother’s arms. Sobs wracked her body as she cried. Her brother’s name came out as only a whimper. Bethany Lancaster allowed her first tear then holding her daughter as her son was taken away. 

Frost coated the ground of the small park closest to Stark tower. Normally Bennett would take her bike out of town to a small nature trail nearby, today there wasn’t time. The steady pounding of her sneakers hitting the pavement was Bennett's sole focus. After a nightmare an early morning run was soothing. The cold morning air brushed against her face, turning her cheeks and nose rosy. Her breath froze in the air in front of her. 18 years had passed since that day and she still felt the loss. If she managed to outrun her memories during the light of day, they always caught back up to her in her sleep.

Back at Stark Tower again Bennett made her way to the gym. She pushed her short hair back out of her face, and made her way to the heavy bag. The bag buckled under the weight of her first few punches. The rough leather grated against her knuckles as she tried to bleed out the last of her nightmare.

For a year and a half Bennett had held a job in security at Stark Industries, as Tony Stark’s personal bodyguard. She had been with Pepper through every second of the incident in Afghanistan. She had helped Tony weather the introduction of Ironman and subsequent fall out. 

Tony was the first big job Bennett had in her field of choice. She had applied for numerous other positions at companies around the city but was passed over because she was too young or inexperienced. Today marked her 24th birthday. 

She was qualified for the job. Top of her class at the academy, marksmanship was in the top 5%, hand to hand combat top 3%, surveillance and observation top 7%. The problem came in because she didn’t look 24. She didn’t even look 20 most days. On a really good day the blonde could pass for 21 but most days about 16 or 17. Resembling a teenager was not exactly intimidating. The clothes Pepper bought, and Tony paid for, helped.  Pepper insisted though, that this was an asset. It made it easier for her to fade into the background. Unassuming and nonthreatening. So when she selected Bennett’s work attire, it was professional but always carried a young, carefree air to it. Usually in the form of colored Converse, lightly distressed jeans, or a graphic tee under her button down or jacket.  

Tabloids had been fun the first couple months after she was noticed. According to those reporters Bennett was Tony Stark's love child from his wild youth. The papers had new stories released every week. "Birth mothers" were lining up to back their stories. There were a few similarities between Bennett and Tony. Skin tone, brown eyes, although his were a darker brown than hers, and a few other overlapping "roguish features", to quote Tony. But past that nothing. The women claiming to be her mother, ranged from hispanic to Irish, from waitresses to swimsuit models. Each story was more ridiculous than the last. Simple math would disprove every one of the women, they were all too young. As would Bennett’s nearly platinum blonde hair. Seriously not one paper thought to find a blonde.

 Quick punch combos rocked the bag on it's chains. The bag caved around her heel as she sunk a kick in. The bag was inviting. Granting a release. The anger and fear. The nightmares, the memories. A release for all of it. Bennett poured them all into the bag where they would stay buried in the sand contained in the canvas. She worked the bag over and over, punch after punch, blow after blow. The combinations becoming more deadly as she worked. 

Tony entered the room watching the girl work and the bag rocked on it’s chains. He watched not wanting to interrupt her. Her fist slammed hard into the bag and he winced. She seemed to deflate holding on to the bag. Letting out an exhausted breath she whispered, "Happy birthday, Fitz"

He gave her another moment heart breaking slightly at the sight. Opening the door and shutting it again Tony approached her as if he had just gotten there. "As my bodyguard, are you not supposed to be aware of your surroundings? I mean if I can sneak in on you anyone can." He crossed the room towards her. "You gonna talk about it this time?"

"I am supposed to be aware of threats, I would hardly classify you as a threat," she walked over taking the bottle from his hand for a drink. The liquid had barely touched her tongue when she spit it out, gagging. "What on earth are you drinking?" She opened the bottle giving the substance a tentative sniff, it was thick and green.

"It's, uh, protein shake from one of those MMA magazines you get."

"Why is it green?" The blonde sniffed it again, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

“Kelp?” Tony took a moment to answer.

“Your answer to that shouldn’t be a question,” she quipped, handing the bottle back and turned to get water from the small fridge.

Tony nodded towards her hand, “you’re bleeding.”

She looked down examining the knuckles. Sure enough the skin was broken on the first two knuckles of each hand and the rest were smeared with blood. “It’s probably just a little scratch.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “You never even let me look at the bag without wrapping my hands.”

“It’s fine, Boss. It looks worse than it is,” she shrugged it off. “Go grab your mouthpiece and meet me on the mats.” Bennett headed into the locker room to grab her mouthpiece and take care of her hands. She knew better, but the rough material of the bag had felt good. Pain always brought relief. Physical pain was manageable. 

Turning the water on she waited the few seconds it would take for it to heat. She ran her hands under the water scrubbing them clean. The water diluted the blood. Bennett squeezed her eyes shut as her nightmare rushed back. The onslaught of images making her slightly nauseous. Wiping her hands dry the skin looked new. It had knit itself back perfectly. That’s why it had escaped her notice, something small like that was less bothersome than a mosquito bite. There is no telling how many times the skin had broken for them to bleed that much. In the most extreme case so far her healing factor was effective enough to heal 12 gunshot wounds simultaneously. So a busted knuckle from the heavy bag was something she wasn’t worried about.  

 Wrapping her knuckles she returned to the gym, mouthpiece in hand. Many things are socially acceptable now.  Many things the government has legalized. They tolerated Ironman. There were rumors of Captain America being found. Talk of other survivors of genetic experiments. Negotiations for the rights of Inhumans. One thing that had not been changed, that had not been legalized, had not been repealed. The Mutant Registration Act. 

Mutation was still seen as an abomination, an affront to nature. Mutants were closely monitored if they managed not to be thrown in jail. To date only three mutants from the registration had not been incarcerated for any length of time, and only because their mutations were purely cosmetic. Horns and tails posed no real threat to humanity's safety. It would be safe to say Tony didn't know about her abilities. No one knew, not even her parents. She intended to keep it that way. She pulled on her fingerless gloves and headed back into the gym.

Ground fighting was the order of the day. After reviewing some of the pins and chokes they had worked on they began to grapple.

 Round 1: 2 minutes, submission, guillotine, Bennett. 

Round 2: 45 seconds, submission, arm bar, Bennett 

Round 3: 3 minutes, submission, Darce choke, Bennett. 

It continued for seven rounds. Some of the rounds could have been shorter but Bennett liked to play a bit. The third round for instance had taken so much time because Bennett wanted to win with the Darce choke. Other times she just drug the fight out to make Tony work harder. Tony got close a few times. After each round the blonde showed him how to lock in the choke to prevent escape. 

Training with Tony was a good warm up for the day and Bennett truly loved teaching him. He didn't really need it. He had the suit. Hand to hand combat was kinda obsolete against that. 

"Okay," he coughed, tapping the mat to signal Bennett to let go. "I'm done. Besides we have a full day." He stretched to work out the kinks in his spine from the fights. 

Bennett pulled up the schedule on her phone, the Stark tech projecting the application off the screen for her. "We have 30 minutes to clean up, eat, and get to the board meeting."

He nodded drinking from the bottle of green goo. "Thanks, kid. Next time I am going to win one." She chuckled, pulling her gloves off before heading back upstairs to change.

 The meeting seemed to drag on and on. No matter how many of these things she sat through Bennett never could find it in herself to follow along. The phone buzzed in her pocket. A new text. 

Tony: kid, watch this.

A few seconds passed and one of the board members grew noticeably irritated before he swatted the air. Upon closer inspection Bennett could see a small black object darting around the man’s head. Bennett would have simply assumed it to be a fly except for the small red light blinking from it. Almost indiscernible. 

Tony flicked his fingers across his phone and the small object darted at the man again. It was a drone. The man grew more distracted by the second. Bennett and Tony bit back their laughter. 

“Tony,” Pepper snapped, “do you have anything to contribute?”

“Uh,...no I think you covered it rather eloquently,” he tapped his screen once more before shoving the phone back in his pocket. Bennett watched the drone zip away probably to some charging dock across the building. 

“If no one has any new business I think we can adjourn,” Pepper dismissed the board members with a smile. As the last man stepped out she turned a glare toward the two. Focusing on Tony she spoke “do you think this is a game, I am trying to run a company here, your company. You could at least pretend to care.” 

 Pepper dragged Bennett and Tony upstairs. If Tony kept this up he would run the company into the ground. He needed to take his responsibilities seriously. Happy met them in the kitchen  where lunch was being served. JARVIS with the help of a bot or two had prepared a salad with grilled chicken. 

Bennett inwardly groaned kelp shakes and now salad. Tony was on a health kick, which meant it was time to stock up on junk food. 

Pepper excused herself when she received a call from one of the overseas investors during lunch leaving Tony, Bennett, and Happy alone for a moment. "Tonight's the night, right? Are you sure you wanna do this kid?" Tony leaned back in his seat trying to make his voice sound casual.

Bennett’s face lit in a smile. "I think so. Emily and I have been together for two years. Our lives fit together seamlessly. We have talked out our plans for the future together. Almost never fight." She chuckled lightly. "Everyone says that proposing is nerve wracking. But I thought it all through and planned it out. Honestly I'm not nervous at all. We fit too well together. She's gonna say yes." Bennett took the small box from her pocket examining the ring. 

Tony held out his hand and she passed the box over. Tony nodded his approval before handing the ring to Happy.

 "Not a bad choice, kid. You want me to drive you tonight. I could get the limo."

Bennett tucked the ring back in her pocket. "No I got it. Gonna take one of Tony’s cars and pick her up, take her to her favorite restaurant. That I can pass off as birthday privileges. Limo would be a bit over the top. Might tip her off." 

"Public proposal? At the restaurant? Pretty gutsy." Tony quipped. 

"No, she wouldn't want that kind of attention" Bennett shook her head, "a walk in the park after, to a spot I know she loves. I'll ask her there." Bennett could see it all in her mind from the bench by the lake to the smile on Emily’s face. Tonight was going to change everything. Tonight would be the start of a new life, a better life.

Happy's phone buzzed. "Sorry, Pepper needs me to pick up someone at the airport. If I don't make it back in time, good luck, kid." He smiled before running out the door. 

"Benn are you really sure about this? Not a doubt in your mind that Emily is the one?" Tony wore a serious expression. "You're young. Not many people find their soulmate at 24."

“I didn’t,” Bennett smirked, ”we met when I was 22."

Tony's expression grew more serious if possible."Benn. This is a big decision. I don't want to see you heartbroken if things don't work down the road. Just make sure you have thought this through. Does Emily really make you happy?"

The blonde gave his words careful consideration before replying. "I think so. I mean we've had rocky places sure. Everyone does, but I think she makes me happy."

Tony locked his gaze with hers "marriage is a lifetime thing." 

"Who are you and what have you done with Tony?" He didn't even smirk at the attempted joke. Bennett let out a deep sigh "I know it's a lifetime thing. I am prepared to sacrifice a lifetime if she needs me to.” She let the silence hang for a few seconds before allowing a smirk to slide in place, “Pepper is gone for the day and Happy is out so...Smash bros showdown." Tony didn't move immediately but the corner of his lips turned up. " Come on, Boss. It will get my mind off things."

He gave a sigh before a genuine smile spread across his features. "Alright, best of 75. If I win I get your bike for a week if you win you can use my suit."

"No safety mode?" Bennett cocked one brow in question.

"Weapons hot." He held out his hand which she in turn took shaking it. 

"Deal."

Several hours later Pepper walked into the common area to Tony's shouts of victory and Bennett’s groans of defeat. "The bike is mine for the week." He crowed. 

"Yeah, yeah," She scowled at the tv screen “you can use the Harley or the Honda this week.”

“No I get the Ducati,” he insisted.

“The original deal said you get my bike for a week not which one. You should be more specific next time, I have seven.” She smirked.  

"Well, well." They both jumped at the new voice spinning to see Pepper standing in the doorway. "I see you two got a lot done today."

"It was bonding time, really." Tony explained. 

Bennett shot a cheeky grin towards the older woman shrugging, "while the cat's away…"

"Obviously." A soft smile played on her lips even as she tried to hide it. "Bennett, don't you have to be somewhere in an hour?"

She tapped the screen on her phone, her Ducati lit up in the background as she checked the time. "Crap. Yeah thanks Pep." Jumping up from the couch the girl pressed a kiss to Pepper’s cheek before heading to the doorway. 

"Are you both coming back tonight? I have a few things saved for the occasion. Wanted to celebrate a little with you, both of you.” Tony explained.

“More than likely. But Tony: no party! If you guys want to say “hi” and stuff fine, but no extras. No party.” Bennett set the rules for Tony’s “celebration”.

"Alright. Be safe and have fun tonight" Tony wrapped her in a tight hug. "Good luck, kid."

“Thanks, boss." Pepper pulled the girl in for one more hug as she rushed to her room. 

Bennett pulled up to Emily’s apartment at 6:30 sharp. Knocking at the door she rocked back on her heels as she waited for Emily to answer, a bouquet of roses in hand. 

“Bennett!” Emily opened the door with a broad smile. She leaned forward pulling the blonde into a kiss. “Those for me?” She asked, pulling away for a second. 

“Who else would they be for?” Bennett pecked her lips again. 

She took the roses, “I’ll just put these in water right quick,” she slipped inside pushing the door closed before Benn could follow. Seconds later she came back out, “ready to go?” Her smile was bright as she took Bennett’s hand, heading to the car. 

Bennett opened her door for her, before climbing in the driver's seat. They drove and talked, laughing occasionally. The blonde couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

The night started at an art gallery. Emily led Bennett through the gallery pointing out her favorite pieces. They talked over the exhibits as they went. Emily gushed over a large metal sculpture in the middle of the museum. She rattled on talking about lines and angles to convey the artist’s meaning. Benn nodded along and agreed when she was asked what she thought. Her only real thought about the piece though was the welds were crap. 

Bennett lagged a bit behind as they came across an exhibit of statues from Greece. Athena, Artemis, and Apollo were displayed alongside sculptures of gorgons, minotaurs, and chimaeras. Emily tugged her along to finish up the last few exhibits. 

When they pulled up to the restaurant Bennett quickly hopped out of the car, rushing around the front of the car to open Emily’s door. Bennett held out a hand and Emily took it. Her hand resting in the blonde’s made Benn feel as if Emily trusted her with her whole world. It was a responsibility the young bodyguard was happy to take on. 

“This really isn’t necessary, Bennie,” she tucked her hand around Bennett’s arm, “but thank you.” 

Dinner was slightly more expensive than she had originally planned but for tonight it would be worth it. Next stop was the nature park. They walked through the park under the stars hand in hand. The little box bounced in her pocket as they neared the spot.

Bennett took in the night sky. North star was straight ahead. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. A story of jealousy. Zeus’ wife Hera was jealous of Callisto after Zeus fell in love with her. So Hera changed her into a bear. Callisto was hunted for years. Zeus and Callisto had a son named Arcas. When he grew Arcas became a great hunter, he was moments away from unknowingly killing his mother but Zeus interfered. Sending them into the sky creating the two constellations. 

“Bennie,” Emily pulled her from her thoughts. “Bennie babe, what is it about them that you find so fascinating?” She gestured towards the heavens.

“Everything. The stories, history, science…” 

Smiling Emily pulled her girlfriend around to face her. She beamed at the blonde, “you always have your head in the clouds, aren’t there more interesting things down here on the ground.” She pulled Bennett in close for a kiss, wrapping her arms around her neck deepening the kiss. 

Bennett pulled away after a moment, leading Emily further into the park. 

Bennett steeled herself.  “Em, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Of course. I wanted to talk to you about something too,” she followed happily. 

“You go ahead,” Bennett said, “what did you want to talk about?”

“No, no, go ahead, it can wait,” she threaded her fingers through Bennett’s. 

“Well,” they came to the spot by the edge of the lake. Taking a deep breath Bennett began her speech “Emily, we have been together for two years now. You helped me adapt to New York, out of the security of my college campus. New York is quite a bit bigger than I am used to,” a grin spread across Bennett’s face, one side slightly higher than the other. Lopsided. 

Emily placed her hand on Bennett’s cheek leveling out her smile “Yeah, your little “no where” Texas is a bit tiny. Population of what, 23?”

“That wasn’t the population, that was the size of my graduating class,” Bennett gave her an indignant look. “Give me some credit.” Emily laughed. “I couldn’t have made it this far without you, and I don’t want to spend any of my future without you by my side. So Emily, will you marry me?” Bennett pulled the ring from her pocket and waited for her answer. 

Bennett parked the car in the garage, killing the engine. She walked in the living area to see Tony, Pepper, and Happy all waiting. Champagne on ice. She let out a long sigh, there was no way to avoid them. 

Tony was grinning from ear to ear when she entered, “hey kid, how did it go?” He looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Emily?” 

The girl plastered a smile on her face. “I...not as planned.” she ran her hand through her hair, brushing her bangs behind her ear only for them to fall back in her face, too short to stay tucked. 

“What do you mean?” Pepper was concerned. 

“Turns out we...don’t want exactly the same things. Her future and mine... there’s this other girl, Madison. Emily has been with her for most of our relationship.” They were all dumb struck. She pulled the box from her pocket, setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Guess I will have to figure out the return policy for that in the morning.” She gave the others a half hearted smile. “I think I am going to bed. Good night.” Apparently Tony was right, no one finds their soulmate at 24.

AN: won’t leave many of these. First I don’t own Marvel or their characters just Benn and her story. 

Second give me any feedback or ideas you have on this story. Any critic is welcome. It is a slowburn as far as the romance aspect goes but it will get there and there is plenty of other stuff in the meantime. 

Hope you enjoyed this introduction to Bennett and my story. Ch1 should be up in a week. 

[journeytothenewme-blog]

So... I had a blog then decided since I wasn't able to update it enough that I was just going to shut it down. Only had 4 posts do whatever. However, I couldn't let them disappeared so I copy and pasted them here

Week One Down

6/17/20

I had my weigh in the other day, yeah, I know, I am a few days late in posting this. That is OK though, I am here now. I did an amazing job my first week back at it. I am down to 276.4 which is a loss of 6.6 pounds for the week. That is freaking amazing, in my opinion. I am aware that a lot of that is probably water weight, but I will take it. Even if it is mostly water it is still a nice feeling to see those numbers go down. It really helps boost the self esteem and lets me know that I am on the right track. 

I am part of a lot of WW groups on Facebook to help give me motivation and ideas for my journey. My problem is that I keep seeing a lot of members complaining about not loosing weight or only losing a pound or less on their first week. It makes me wonder why. I have used WW multiple times and have always had success with it. I am wondering if they are going over their points or eating too much fruit (or other zero point foods)? I wonder if they are consuming too much sodium and are retaining too much water? I have no idea but it kind of irritates me that they aren't doing it right, seems odd, I know. Another possibility is that they are working out too much and losing fat but gaining muscle? There are just too many variables and it is driving me nuts. I feel like if I knew what they were doing wrong then I wouldn't make the same mistake. At the same time, I feel like I should just focus on my own journey and forget about everyone else. 

My yo-yo weight loss is getting out of hand but at least now I am on a downward trend and moving towards healthy. The hope is that I will be able to continue going down. 

Last Day of Week 1

6/14/2020

It is Sunday afternoon. It is the last day of my first week back on Weight Watchers (WW). I am on the Green plan and I feel like it is going great so far. I always do pretty well the first week or two though and then fizzle out. The key is keeping up the momentum and pushing through. I will find out tomorrow though how well I did or did not do this week. Monday mornings are weigh in days and they will show me if my work is paying off or not. 

I haven't done much this week in the way of working out. The gyms are just now starting to open back up thanks to COVID-19. I haven't been back yet though. I don't know what is going on with my membership, if it is still active or if I have to renew it. I will take care of all that later, I am content not going for now. 

I did by some at home workout things to mess around with. I have some light dumbbell weights as well as a kettle bell. I am going to purchase some more items, like resistance bands and whatnot. It is nice to have access to a ton of workout videos thanks to YouTube so I can do any kind of workout I want from the comfort of my own home. It is nice that the husband works evenings so I can workout in peace on days that he isn't around. 

I have been going for walks at night when the weather is cool, giving myself a little exercise. It is better than nothing I suppose. 

Tomorrow morning will come soon enough as we will see how well this week went for me. 

A couple of days in...

6/12/2020

So I have been at it for a few days now. I started about five days ago. I feel like things are going OK. I have been eating some pretty tasty meals that are healthy too. I haven't gone over my points at all thus far *knock on wood*

I have had the opportunity to hit up the grocery store and load up on some staples like chicken, rice, and eggs. I also loaded up on some fresh produce. That is where I have to try to be careful. I tend to get too much at a time and end up throwing so much away. I am trying to prevent that from happening in the future but I am sure that there will be a learning curve. I prefer getting my produce from Aldi because, well, it's far cheaper. The only issue is that it goes bad rather quickly. Since I work right by our local Aldi I can make frequent trips so that isn't a problem. I will just have to buy a little at a time. 

Something that I have found that works for me, that I will be doing, is keeping snacks on hand. I buy fruit and veggies and cut them up, storing them in a bowl in the fridge. This is nice for when I want to just grab something to much on. I can just pop the lid off the bowl, grab a couple bites, and throw it back in. Easy as pie. 

Additionally, I found that keeping Greek yogurt is a must have. The flavored stuff is low on points and is great for dipping the fruit in. Also, it's pretty tasty as a stand alone snack. On the other hand, making a rand dip/dressing out of non-fat plain Greek yogurt is a must have when it comes to this have. It's perfect for dipping veggies or pretzels, and makes an excellent salad dressing. 

All and all things have been going great so far so I have high hopes. An acquaintance of mine joined WW a couple of days after me so I am able to share ideas with her. That is, of course, assuming she sticks with it. I am also aiming to get a buddy of mine in the program as well. He says he's game but has to wait two weeks until his next payday. If he joins then we can both get  a free month so that is a bonus. I want to start a weight loss competition for more motivation. I need people to keep me accountable!! 

Weigh in is on Monday, so I have a few days before I step on the scale. We will see what happens then. 

Day One... Again...

6/8/2020

I decided to start up again today, for many reasons. Of course, I want to loose weight. I am sick of being and feeling fat. I know that I am, and I probably always will be. However, when the people who are close to me start to tell me I need to change my habits then I should probably start to listen. I need to lose some pounds so I can feel better in my daily life. I am tired of not being able to walk down the stairs. I am sick of my knees and feet bothering me. I am over the stomach aches and fowl smelling gas. I hate that I cannot shop at most stores due to a lack of sizing. I am just ready to to be thinner and feel better. 

This go around I am doing Weight Watchers... again. I have had loads of success with the program in the past. The first time around, which was about 9 years ago, I lost almost 50 pounds in just three months. I was able to get down into the 220s which is the lowest I have been since before my son was born (he is 15 now). Unfortunately, that weight didn't stay off. I met my husband and just got comfortable. Over years I gained so much weight. A little over a year ago I hit my highest weight ever. I was weighing in at 303 pounds. I saw that on the scale and I knew that something had to be done. Two summers ago I started Weight Watchers, again, and succeeded. I was down to the 250s and feeling great. Then, again, life happened and I got comfortable and stopped dieting. I have since gained a lot of that back. I have dabbled with other weight loss strategies since then. I have used MyFitnessPal and tracked CICO with some success. However, none of that ever lasted more than a couple of weeks. 

So, here I am again today, starting over on WW. I was put on the green plan, which from what I understand has less 0 point foods but you get more points to work with throughout the day. At first I was a little worried, mostly since I cannot have chicken and eggs for no points anymore, like I could before. However, the more I have talked to people and thought about it, this might be for the best. I may have to track chicken and eggs, but I can eat way more points than I could before. Additionally, I can use those points for other foods, giving myself more of a variety. 

​I am excited to see where this journey takes me this time. 

Jess Jess

Follow me on my path to the new, healthier me. Watch my ups and downs, my successes and failures, and everything in between. I have started this journey many times before, but I am determined to make this the last time I start. I will accomplish what I am here to do, and that is to get healthy!

[nellie-elizabeth]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: The Tattler (6x03)

Please try to tell me after this episode that Jake Peralta is straight. I dare you. Dude is totally bi.

Cons:

This was only an okay episode, not a great one. It felt kind of pointless, and while a lot of the jokes were funny, it was lacking a message or underpinning that could lend the episode some weight. So, Charles and Rosa talk about Rosa's love life, and there's lots of comedy there, but the resolution doesn't feel like it added anything to the characters. Terry, Holt, Hitchcock and Scully try and win a radio contest, and Holt learns how to have fun while wasting time, but we don't see any continuing development of Holt's main goals, or see how taking a break is an important part of accomplishing his ideal life. It's just funny, as opposed to funny and poignant. That's fine, but it's not mind-blowing or anything.

Is the girl that Rosa was dating but has since broken up with supposed to be Gina Rodriguez's character? If so, what a waste! I wanted to watch that romance unfold!

Pros:

I did like the beginning of the subplot with Rosa and Charles though, where she walks up to him and just info-dumps her relationship history. Charles replies and says the last thing he knew about her was that she was bi - he has no context for any of this, but he decides to roll with it. I also liked seeing Rosa hanging from the ceiling like a bat. That was super funny. I hope we actually get to watch Rosa in a relationship with someone. The last one was so funny to watch, that I want to see Rosa get another chance at love.

I didn't think there was much to enjoy with Holt's plot line with the radio show, but I did want to bring up one way that it was funny specifically for me: there was this morning radio show on in my area, and they had a crinkle noise that nobody could guess for weeks and weeks. Every day they'd add like $100 to the pot or something like that, and it kept getting bigger and bigger. Eventually someone guessed it, and it was the sound of a plastic water bottle being opened!

The main story is where most of the good humor is, and it's also the only part of the episode that ended up having some heart as well. Jake, Amy, and Gina go to Jake and Gina's high school reunion, where Jake is forced to relive memories of his awful senior year, where he was branded "the Tattler" for getting his cool friend in trouble for breaking a rule. Jake is haunted by it, and he and Amy decide to investigate the truth. We then learn that Gina was the real Tattler, and Gina tells Jake that she was trying to help him from getting mixed up with a bad crowd. Meanwhile, Gina tries to con a tech investor guy with a fake app, only to find out in the end that the other guy was lying just as much as she was. Jake tells Gina that maybe her talents are being wasted at the Nine-Nine, and she should find something else to do. Gina agrees.

Lots of good stuff in here. Amy was totally over the top with how much she was enjoying being back in a high school setting. She was turned on by Jake's attendance record, and stayed behind in the library to write a book report on Jane Eyre. All of this is way over the top and too much, but it works because Amy is just there as comic relief, and there are other characters who are (rightfully) getting the focus.

I love any episode that focuses on Jake and Gina's friendship. Often the show forgets that these two have been friends their whole lives, so it's fun to see a bit of that here. I love that Gina is totally out for herself, and she lets Jake continue to take the fall for being the "Tattler." But, we know that if Jake had asked her, Gina would have told the truth. She really was just looking out for her friend. We've been winding up for a departure from Gina for a while, and while I'll definitely miss her, I think it makes so much sense for her character. She has this brilliant creative mind, and she shouldn't be stifled by working in administration if she doesn't want that.

I'm mostly joking about Jake being bi, but I'm also totally not. Dude had a crush on that cool friend of his from high school. He even confirms to Rosa that "he was hot." I love it. I love the idea of a young Jake Peralta, trying to cultivate a cool image and fit in, but being happy in the end that his life went down a better path. I want to learn even more about Jake's past!

That's all I've got for the time being. Like I said, this was an okay episode, but not one of the ones I'd use to try and recommend this show to new watchers. I have every faith that I'll be more blown away in future!

7.5/10

[dragonologist-phd]

The Weight Of All Our Memories

This weeks fic fill for @pillarspromptsweekly “Roll For It”, featuring 3 themes- Thaos, Aloth, and betrayal. This week’s fic features my Watcher Desta, and a conversation with Aloth concerning certain revelations and confessions. Also on AO3.

Defiance Bay was burning.

The smoke was a dark stain in the sky, visible even miles away from the city. By now the buildings and walls blurred into nothing but a dot on the horizon, and yet the smoke billowed and curled, dark and sinister and showing no signs of fading. Aloth could only imagine what must be happening back there- looting, destruction, a mad scramble from the authorities to restore order to the chaos.

The Leaden Key had created that chaos, and the guilt of that fact pressed harder on Aloth every time he caught sight of the smoke cloud in the distance.

I tol’ ye not to trust ‘em, ye ninnywit.

Aloth winced and pushed Iselmyr’s voice away. She had been simmering just underneath the surface for days now, fueled by Aloth’s own frustration at himself. For once he couldn’t say she was wrong in her criticisms; unlike him, Iselmyr had never wanted anything to do with the Leaden Key. Aloth had always disregarded her protests, so sure that she was only trying to keep him from finding a way to reverse his Awakening. He’d refused to let her dissuade him from his path. At the time, he thought he knew what he was getting into.

Now here he was, watching Defiance Bay burn and wishing he had listened a little closer to the voice in his head.

“Look out!”

Aloth started at the voice and quickly ducked, narrowly avoiding the pinecone that flew past his ear. He blinked in surprise, trying to pull himself out of his thoughts enough to figure out what had just happened. “...Why did you just throw a pinecone at me?”

Desta grinned sheepishly as she approached. Despite her silver metallic armor, it was difficult in the evening light to make out her figure among the trees. Her dark green skin blended in with the scenery, and her golden godlike eyes caught the light in strange ways. Seeing her emerge from the forest was strangely otherworldly, even as she plopped herself noisily down next to Aloth and gave him shrug. “I wanted an excuse to shout something at you. You seem distracted, and not in your usual ‘leave-me-alone-so-I-can-read’ kind of way.”

Aloth let out a small breath and closed the grimoire in his lap. He’d hoped nobody would notice his momentary absence- as Desta pointed out, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to distance himself from the campfire that the others were gathered around. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m just trying to focus on this new spell.”

Without meaning to, he glanced again towards the smoke rising from Defiance Bay. Desta noticed. “No, you’re torturing yourself by obsessing over the riots. It’s what you’ve been doing ever since we left the city. That doesn’t do anybody any good, you know.”

“I-” Aloth started to protest, then stopped himself. “I know. I know it’s too late now to fix things. That doesn’t stop me from wondering what I could have done differently.”

Aloth could feel Desta watching him, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. It had only been a couple of dats since his guilt-ridden confession about his connection to the Leaden Key. Telling her about his past with the organization had been terrifying; that was why he had avoided it for so long. He’d seen her righteous anger firsthand, and had no desire to have that anger turned upon himself.

But when he told her the truth in the shadows of the burning city, there had been no anger. Desta had only given him that same soft, unreadable look she was giving him now, and he had been instantly forgiven.

It made no sense. At the time, he’d lacked the bravery to question it, but now he had to know. “Why aren’t you furious?”

Desta’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Aloth shook his head at the outrageousness of the situation. “I lied to you! I betrayed you! I was a member of the Leaden Key, I worked for Thaos! How am I still here?”

A good-natured smile played on Desta’s lips. “You didn’t betray me, Aloth. Yes, it would have been nice if you’d shared certain information sooner…” Her voice took on a disapproving tone,, but even now there was no true malice behind it. “But you can’t actually expect me to blame you for all of this.”

“But-”

“Aloth.” Desta firmly cut off his protest. “Did you know Thaos was planning an assassination?”

Aloth’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Well, no. But-”

“Did you know the Leaden Key was doing all that crazy shit with the machines and the animancers?”

“No.”

“Did you know that Thaos was messing with souls and killing people and trying to throw a city into anarchy?”

Aloth held up a pleading hand. “You’ve made your point. I didn’t know this would happen. But I still played a part. I thought what Thaos was doing was good, and I never questioned it. Not once. Even when I knew something was wrong, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. And you…” Aloth trailed off, trying desperately to arrange his thoughts correctly. “The entire time I’ve known you, all you’ve done is go out of your way to help people. The Leaden Key does the opposite of that. They’ve tried to kill you, many times. You should hate everything about it.”

The silence hung tensely in the air around the two companions. Aloth waited for a response, an explanation. Perhaps Desta had a reason for keeping him around she hadn’t yet divulged. Perhaps she was about to come to her senses at last, recognize the weight of what he had participated in, and send him away for good.

Finally, Desta heaved a deep sigh. She reached down and plucked the pinecone she’d thrown off the ground, turning it over in her hands as she spoke. “I don’t hate you, Aloth. I get it. I understand why you stayed loyal for so long. When you found the Leaden Key, you were aimless and alone. You didn’t have a family or home you could turn to, and then all of a sudden you had a purpose. You had something to believe in, to give your life some direction.”

Desta’s words came with the rushed tone of vulnerable honesty, and they hit at the memories within Aloth.  He stared at her, trying to discern if she was using her Watcher abilities, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Her gaze was fixed on the pinecone she held, and she spoke faster and faster as she turned it in her hands. “Maybe for the first time in your life you didn’t feel lost or rejected or isolated. And maybe you would do anything to hold on to this new life because that feeling of belonging can be the most intoxicating thing in the world and you really, really don’t want to let go of that.”

She stopped to take a breath, and seemed to notice Aloth’s stare for the first time. He politely dropped his gaze, and she laughed self-consciously.  “Come on, Aloth. I’m a walking tree. I know what a big deal it can be just to be accepted.” She motioned to the armor she wore, emblazoned with the sigil of the Kind Wayfarers. “You think I don’t know a little about dedicating yourself to an order?”

“But you’re a Kind Wayfarer,” Aloth pointed out. “Your order stands for peace and protection. You literally have Kind in the name. Can you really compare that to the Leaden Key?”

“Maybe not exactly,” Desta conceded. “But although I hate to admit it…when I joined I wasn’t some perfect hero looking to uphold peace and protection. I was young and lonely and starry-eyed. The Wayfarers are wonderful, and I’m glad I met them, but… if I had met a Leaden Key agent instead of a paladin that day… I don’t know. I might be in your place right now.”

Aloth mulled over her words. Despite what she said, it was nearly impossible to imagine Desta as a solemn Leaden Key agent, steeped in secrecy and pledging her services to a man with a hidden agenda. “I don’t know. I still think you might be a little wiser than me in that regard. You would have stood up to Thaos and his followers before it got this far.”

Desta chuckled, leaning over to nudge Aloth in a friendly way that caught him completely off guard. “Not wiser. Come on, have you met me? Wiser. Ha.” She smirked at him and shook her head. “No. Just luckier.”

Now it was Desta who was staring in the direction of Defiance Bay. Her eyes seemed to suddenly grow tired. “Luckier this time, at least. You have a lot of faith in me, but I’m not sure it’s deserved. That feeling I talked about… I know it. Not just from me, but my past life. And not about the Wayfarers. These strange memories keep coming back, and a lot of them don’t make sense, it’s all just bits and pieces. But believe me, I recognize that feeling. That sense of purpose. I think past me felt that around Thaos.”

Desta’s voice grew quiet, and she gnawed at her lip in distressed concentration. “I think past me did a lot of things for the sake of that purpose. For the sake of Thaos. I don’t know what I did, but it feels…bad.”

Aloth took a moment to let this new information sink in. He still found it hard to imagine Desta as she described herself, but there were no rules on how souls could change through their cycles. After all, something in Aloth had once been Iselmyr. “Perhaps we do have some things in common.”

A triumphant smile crossed Desta’s face. “See? I know what I’m talking about. So trust me when I say that reliving the past and wondering what could have gone differently will drive you mad. Whatever you did or whoever you followed...it happened, and it’s over. Nothing can change that, not even a Watcher. You can only decide what happens next.” She paused and studied Aloth for a moment. “I want you to stick around, but you shouldn’t do it just because of that. I don’t want you to follow me.”

“You… don’t?”

“No!” Desta leapt to her feet, her golden eyes shining with passion. “Don’t you get it? I want you with me, not behind me! You have to make a choice about what you’re doing next, and it has to be your choice. I’m not going after Thaos out of obligation or to carry out orders. He doesn’t have that kind of power over me anymore. I’m going to hunt Thaos down and do what I can to fix the harm he’s done because I think it’s the right thing to do. And I hope whatever you decide, that’s your reason, too.” She held out a hand to Aloth, waiting for his response.

It took him a moment to sort out the disorganized thoughts running around his head. To be honest, Aloth still wasn’t sure if he could trust himself; he’d once thought the Leaden Key was doing good work, after all. The memory of his old mistakes drew his gaze once more back to the silhouette of Defiance Bay, but as night approached it had rendered the distant smoke invisible.

In the end, Aloth finally decided, he really only had two choices. He could either continue to choke on his mistakes, or do what he could to move on and rise above them. He gripped Desta’s hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet.

[shahrukhdigitalmarketing]

The Big Picture of Permanent Weight Loss

Most people who read my articles and e-books know me as a science guy who likes to quote studies and apply research to everyday problems such as weight loss, bodybuilding, and other health/fitness related topics. However, sometimes you have to step back from the science and look at the big picture to help bring people back into focus, so they can see the forest for the trees, so to speak.

For most people reading this article, finding an effective diet that works most of the time must seem as complicated as nuclear physics. It's not, but there are a bewildering number of choices for diets out there. High fat or no fat? High carbohydrate or no carbohydrate? Low protein or high protein? To make matters worse, there are a million variations and combinations to the above diet scenarios to add to the confusion. It seems endless and causes many people to throw up their hands in frustration and give up. In this article I will attempt to change all that.

There are some general guidelines, rules of thumb, and ways of viewing a diet program that will allow you to decide, once and for all, if it's the right diet for you. You may not always like what I have to say, and you should be under no illusions this is another quick fix, "lose 100 lbs. in 20 days," guide of some sort. However, if you are sick and tired of being confused, tired of taking the weight off only to put it back on, and tired of wondering how to take the first steps to deciding the right diet for you that will result in permanent weight loss, then this is the article that could change your life...

Does your diet pass "The Test"? What is the number one reason diets fail long term; above all else? The number one reason is...drum roll...a lack of long term compliance. The numbers don't lie; the vast majority of people who lose weight will regain it - and often exceed what they lost. You knew that already didn't you?

Yet, what are you doing to avoid it? Here's another reality check: virtually any diet you pick which follows the basic concept of "burning" more calories then you consume - the well accepted "calories in calories out" mantra - will cause you to lose weight. To some degree, they all work: Atkins-style, no carb diets, low fat high carb diets, all manner of fad diets - it simply does not matter in the short term.

If your goal is to lose some weight quickly, then pick one and follow it. I guarantee you will lose some weight. Studies generally find any of the commercial weight loss diets will get approximately the same amount of weight off after 6 months to a year. For example, a recent study found the Atkins' Diet, Slim-Fast plan, Weight Watchers Pure Points program, and Rosemary Conley's Eat Yourself Slim diet, were all equally effective. (1)

Other studies comparing other popular diets have come to essentially the same conclusions. For example, a study that compared the Atkins diet, the Ornish diet, Weight Watchers, and The Zone Diet, found them to be essentially the same in their ability to take weight off after one year. (2)

Recall what I said about the number one reason diets fail, which is a lack of compliance. The lead researcher of this recent study stated:

"Our trial found that adherence level rather than diet type was the primary predictor of weight loss"(3)

Translated, it's not which diet they chose per se, but their ability to actually stick to a diet that predicted their weight loss success. I can just see the hands going up now, "but Will, some diets must be better than others, right?" Are some diets better then others? Absolutely. Some diets are healthier then others, some diets are better at preserving lean body mass, some diets are better at suppressing appetite - there are many differences between diets. However, while most of the popular diets will work for taking weight off, what is abundantly clear is that adhering to the diet is the most important aspect for keeping the weight off long term.

What is a diet? A diet is a short term strategy to lose weight. Long term weight loss is the result of an alteration in lifestyle. We are concerned with life long weight management, not quick fix weight loss here. I don't like the term diet, as it represents a short term attempt to lose weight vs. a change in lifestyle. Want to lose a bunch of weight quickly? Heck, I will give you the information on how to do that here and now for no charge.

For the next 90 to 120 days eat 12 scrambled egg whites, one whole grapefruit, and a gallon of water twice a a day. You will lose plenty of weight. Will it be healthy? Nope. Will the weight stay off once you are done with this diet and are then forced to go back to your "normal" way of eating? Not a chance. Will the weight you lose come from fat or will it be muscle, water, bone, and (hopefully!) some fat? The point being, there are many diets out there that are perfectly capable of getting weight off you, but when considering any eating plan designed to lose weight, you must ask yourself:

"Is this a way of eating I can follow long term?" Which brings me to my test: I call it the "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life?" Test. I know, it does not exactly roll off your tongue, but it gets the point across.

The lesson here is: any nutritional plan you pick to lose weight must be part of a lifestyle change you will be able to follow - in one form or another - forever. That is, if it's not a way of eating you can comply with indefinitely, even after you get to your target weight, then it's worthless.

Thus, many fad diets you see out there are immediately eliminated, and you don't have to worry about them. The question is not whether the diet is effective in the short term, but if the diet can be followed indefinitely as a lifelong way of eating. Going from "their" way of eating back to "your" way of eating after you reach your target weight is a recipe for disaster and the cause of the well established yo-yo dieting syndrome. Bottom line: there are no short cuts, there is no free lunch, and only a commitment to a lifestyle change is going to keep the fat off long term. I realize that's not what most people want to hear, but it's the truth, like it or not.

The statistics don't lie: getting the weight off is not the hardest part, keeping the weight off is! If you take a close look at the many well known fad/commercial diets out there, and you are honest with yourself, and apply my test above, you will find most of them no longer appeal to you as they once did. It also brings me to an example that adds additional clarity: If you have diet A that will cause the most weight loss in the shortest amount of time but is unbalanced and essentially impossible to follow long term vs. diet B, which will take the weight off at a slower pace, but is easier to follow, balanced, healthy, and something you can comply with year after year, which is superior? If diet A gets 30 lbs off you in 30 days, but by next year you have gained back all 30 lbs, but diet B gets 20 lbs off you in the next 3 months with another 20 lbs 3 months after that and the weight stays off by the end of that year, which is the better diet?

If you don't know the answer to those questions, you have totally missed the point of this article and the lesson it's trying to teach you, and are set up for failure. Go back and read this section again...By default, diet B is superior.

Teach a man to Fish... A well known Chinese Proverb is - Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

This expression fits perfectly with the next essential step in how to decide what eating plan you should follow to lose weight permanently. Will the diet plan you are considering teach you how to eat long term, or does it spoon-feed you information? Will the diet rely on special bars, shakes, supplements or pre-made foods they supply?

Let's do another diet A vs. diet B comparison. Diet A is going to supply you with their foods, as well as their special drink or bars to eat, and tell you exactly when to eat them. You will lose - say - 30 lbs in two months. Diet B is going to attempt to help you learn which foods you should eat, how many calories you need to eat, why you need to eat them, and generally attempt to help teach you how to eat as part of a total lifestyle change that will allow you to make informed decisions about your nutrition. Diet B causes a slow steady weight loss of 8 -10 lbs per month for the next 6 months and the weight stays off because you now know how to eat properly.

Recall the Chinese proverb. Both diets will assist you to lose weight. Only one diet, however, will teach you how to be self-reliant after your experience is over. Diet A is easier, to be sure, and causes faster weight loss than diet B, and diet B takes longer and requires some thinking and learning on your part. However, when diet A is over, you are right back where you started and have been given no skills to fish. Diet companies don't make their profits by teaching you to fish, they make their money by handing you a fish so you must rely on them indefinitely or come back to them after you gain all the weight back.

Thus, diet B is superior for allowing you to succeed where other diets failed, with knowledge gained that you can apply long term. Diet programs that attempt to spoon feed you a diet without any attempt to teach you how to eat without their help and/or rely on their shakes, bars, cookies, or pre-made foods, is another diet you can eliminate from your list of choices.

Diet plans that offer weight loss by drinking their product for several meals followed by a "sensible dinner;" diets that allow you to eat their special cookies for most meals along with their pre-planned menu; or diets that attempt to have you eating their bars, drink, or pre-made meals, are of the diet A variety covered above. They're easy to follow but destined for failure, long term. They all fail the "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life?" test, unless you really think you can eat cookies and shakes for the rest of your life...Bottom line here is, if the nutritional approach you use to lose weight, be it from a book, a class, a clinic, or an e-book, does not teach you how to eat, it's a loser for long term weight loss and it should be avoided.

The missing link for long term weight loss We now make our way to another test to help you choose a nutrition program for long term weight loss, and it does not actually involve nutrition. The missing link for long term weight loss is exercise. Exercise is the essential component of long term weight loss. Many diet programs do not contain an exercise component, which means they are losers for long term weight loss from the very start. Any program that has its focus on weight loss but does not include a comprehensive exercise plan is like buying a car without tires, or a plane without wings. People who have successfully kept the weight off overwhelmingly have incorporated exercise into their lives, and the studies that look at people who have successfully lost weight and kept it off invariably find these people were consistent with their diet and exercise plans. (4)

I am not going to list all the benefits of regular exercise here, but regular exercise has positive effects on your metabolism, allows you to eat more calories yet still be in a calorie deficit, and can help preserve lean body mass (LBM) which is essential to your health and metabolism. The many health benefits of regular exercise are well known, so I won't bother adding them here. The bottom line here is, (a) if you have any intentions of getting the most from your goal of losing weight and (b) plan to keep it off long term, regular exercise must be an integral part of the weight loss strategy. So, you can eliminate any program, be it book, e-book, clinic, etc. that does not offer you direction and help with this essential part of long term weight loss.

Side Bar: A quick note on exercise: Any exercise is better than no exercise. However, like diet plans, not all exercise is created equal, and many people often choose the wrong form of exercise to maximize their efforts to lose weight. For example, they will do aerobics exclusively and ignore resistance training. Resistance training is an essential component of fat loss, as it builds muscle essential to your metabolism, increases 24 hour energy expenditure, and has health benefits beyond aerobics.

The reader will also note I said fat loss above not weight loss. Though I use the term 'weight loss' throughout this article, I do so only because it is a familiar term most people understand. However, the true focus and goal of a properly set up nutrition and exercise plan should be on fat loss, not weight loss. A focus on losing weight, which may include a loss essential muscle, water, and even bone, as well as fat, is the wrong approach. Losing the fat and keeping the all important lean body mass (LBM), is the goal, and the method for achieving that can be found in my ebook(s) on the topic, and is beyond the scope of this article. Bottom line: the type of exercise, intensity of that exercise, length of time doing that exercise, etc., are essential variables here when attempting to lose FAT while retaining (LBM).

Psychology 101 of long term weight loss Many diet programs out there don't address the psychological aspect of why people fail to be successful with long term weight loss. However, quite a few studies exist that have looked at just that. In many respects, the psychological aspect is the most important for long term weight loss, and probably the most underappreciated component.

Studies that compare the psychological characteristics of people who have successfully kept the weight off to people who have regained the weight, see clear differences between these two groups. For example, one study that looked at 28 obese women who had lost weight but regained the weight that they had lost, compared to 28 formerly obese women who had lost weight and maintained their weight for at least one year and 20 women with a stable weight in the healthy range, found the women who regained the weight:

o Had a tendency to evaluate self-worth in terms of weight and shape o Had a lack of vigilance with regard to weight control o had a dichotomous (black-and-white) thinking style o Had the tendency to use eating to regulate mood.

The researchers concluded:

"The results suggest that psychological factors may provide some explanation as to why many people with obesity regain weight following successful weight loss."

This particular study was done on women, so it reflects some of the specific psychological issues women have - but make no mistake here - men also have their own psychological issues that can sabotage their long term weight loss efforts. (6)

Additional studies on men and women find psychological characteristics such as "having unrealistic weight goals, poor coping or problem-solving skills and low self-efficacy" often predict failure with long term weight loss. (7) On the other hand, psychological traits common to people who experienced successful long term weight loss include "...an internal motivation to lose weight, social support, better coping strategies and ability to handle life stress, self-efficacy, autonomy, assuming responsibility in life, and overall more psychological strength and stability." (8)

The main point of this section is to illustrate that psychology plays a major role in determining if people are successful with long term weight loss. If it's not addressed as part of the overall plan, it can be the factor that makes or breaks your success. This, however, is not an area most nutrition programs can adequately tackle and should not be expected to. However, the better programs do generally attempt to help with motivation, goal setting, and support. If you see yourself in the above lists from the groups that failed to maintain their weight long term, then know you will need to address those issues via counseling, support groups, etc. Don't expect any weight loss program to cover this topic adequately but do look for programs that attempt to offer support, goal setting, and resources that will keep you on track.

"There's a sucker born every minute" So why don't you see this type of honest information about the realities of long term weight loss more often? Let's be honest here, telling the truth is not the best way to sell bars, shakes, books, supplements, and programs. Hell, if by some miracle everyone who read this article actually followed it, and sent it on to millions of other people who actually followed it, makers of said products could be in financial trouble quickly. However, they also know - as the man said - "there's a sucker born every minute," so I doubt they will be kept up at night worrying about the effects that I, or this article, will have on their business.

So let's recap what has been learned here: the big picture realities of permanent weight loss and how you can look at a weight loss program and decide for yourself if it's for you based on what has been covered above:

o Permanent weight loss is not about finding a quick fix diet, but making a commitment to life style changes that include nutrition and exercise

o Any weight loss program you choose must pass the "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life?" test,

o The weight loss program you choose should ultimately teach you how to eat and be self reliant so you can make informed long term choices about your nutrition.

o The weight loss program you choose should not leave you reliant on commercial bars, shakes, supplements, or pre-made foods, for your long term success.

o The weight loss program you choose must have an effective exercise component.

o The weight loss program you choose should attempt to help with motivation, goal setting, and support, but can't be a replacement for psychological counseling if needed.

Conclusion I want to take this final section to add some additional points and clarity. For starters, the above advice is not for everyone. It's not intended for those who really have their nutrition dialed in, such as competitive bodybuilders and other athletes who benefit from fairly dramatic changes in their nutrition, such as 'off season' and 'pre-contest' and so on.

The article is also not intended for those with medical issues who may be on a specific diet to treat or manage a specific medical condition. The article is intended for the average person who wants to get off the Yo-Yo diet merry-go-round once and for all. As that's probably 99% of the population, it will cover millions of people.

People should also not be scared off by my "you have to eat this way forever" advice. This does not mean you will be dieting for the rest of your life and have nothing but starvation to look forward to. What it does mean, however, is you will have to learn to eat properly even after you reach your target weight and that way of eating should not be a huge departure from how you ate to lose the weight in the first place. Once you get to your target weight - and or your target bodyfat levels - you will go onto a maintenance phase which generally has more calories and choices of food, even the occasional treat, like a slice of pizza or whatever.

Maintenance diets are a logical extension of the diet you used to lose the weight, but they are not based on the diet you followed that put the weight on in the first place!

Regardless of which program you choose, use the above 'big picture' approach which will keep you on track for long term weight loss. See you in the gym!

References

(1) Truby H, et al. Randomised controlled trial of four commercial weight loss programmes in the UK: initial findings from the BBC "diet trials" BMJ 2006;332:1309-1314 (3 June),

(2) Michael D., et al, Comparison of the Atkins, Ornish, Weight Watchers, and Zone Diets for Weight Loss and Heart Disease Risk Reduction. A Randomized Trial. JAMA. 2005;293:43-53.

(3) Comparison of Diets for Weight Loss and Heart Disease Risk Reduction-Reply. Michael Dansinger. JAMA. 2005;293:1590-1591.

(4) Kruger J. et al. Dietary and physical activity behaviors among adults successful at weight loss maintenance. International Journal of Behavioral Nutrition and Physical Activity 2006, 3:17 doi:10.1186/1479-5868-3-17

(5) Byrne S, et al. Weight maintenance and relapse in obesity: a qualitative study. Int J Obes Relat Metab Disord. 2003 Aug;27(8):955-62.

(6) Borg P, et al. Food selection and eating behaviour during weight maintenance intervention and 2-y follow-up in obese men.Int J Obes Relat Metab Disord. 2004 Dec;28(12):1548-54.

(7) Byrne SM. Psychological aspects of weight maintenance and relapse in obesity. J Psychosom Res. 2002 Nov;53(5):1029-36.

(8) Elfhag K, et al. Who succeeds in maintaining weight loss? A conceptual review of factors associated with weight loss maintenance and weight regain. Obes Rev. 2005 Feb;6(1):67-85

Author Bio

Will Brink is an author, columnist and expert in the supplement, fitness, bodybuilding, and weight loss industry and has been extensively published. Will graduated from Harvard University with a concentration in the natural sciences.

His often ground breaking articles can be found in publications such as Lets Live, Muscle Media , MuscleMag International, The Life Extension Magazine, Muscle n Fitness, Exercise For Men Only, and numerous others.

He has been co author of several studies relating to sports nutrition and health found in peer reviewed academic journals, as well as having commentary published in JAMA. Will formerly trained high level Olympic athletes, bodybuilders and fitness and now runs seminars for (SWAT).

He is the author of Bodybuilding Revealed which teaches you how to gain solid muscle mass drug free and Fat Loss Revealed which reveals exactly how to get lean, ripped and healthy completely naturally.

Find out more at http://www.bodybuildingrevealed.com

[myclickbankwhole]

The Big Picture of Permanent Weight Loss

“The only pills that target the root cause of stubborn fat”

Most people who read my articles and e-books know me as a science guy who likes to quote studies and apply research to everyday problems such as weight loss, bodybuilding, and other health/fitness related topics. However, sometimes you have to step back from the science and look at the big picture to help bring people back into focus, so they can see the forest for the trees, so to speak.

For most people reading this article, finding an effective diet that works most of the time must seem as complicated as nuclear physics. It's not, but there are a bewildering number of choices for diets out there. High fat or no fat? High carbohydrate or no carbohydrate? Low protein or high protein? To make matters worse, there are a million variations and combinations to the above diet scenarios to add to the confusion. It seems endless and causes many people to throw up their hands in frustration and give up. In this article I will attempt to change all that.

LINK--https://bit.ly/2DdpgQP

There are some general guidelines, rules of thumb, and ways of viewing a diet program that will allow you to decide, once and for all, if it's the right diet for you. You may not always like what I have to say, and you should be under no illusions this is another quick fix, "lose 100 lbs. in 20 days," guide of some sort. However, if you are sick and tired of being confused, tired of taking the weight off only to put it back on, and tired of wondering how to take the first steps to deciding the right diet for you that will result in permanent weight loss, then this is the article that could change your life...

Does your diet pass "The Test"? What is the number one reason diets fail long term; above all else? The number one reason is...drum roll...a lack of long term compliance. The numbers don't lie; the vast majority of people who lose weight will regain it - and often exceed what they lost. You knew that already didn't you?

Yet, what are you doing to avoid it? Here's another reality check: virtually any diet you pick which follows the basic concept of "burning" more calories then you consume - the well accepted "calories in calories out" mantra - will cause you to lose weight. To some degree, they all work: Atkins-style, no carb diets, low fat high carb diets, all manner of fad diets - it simply does not matter in the short term.

LINK--https://bit.ly/2DdpgQP

If your goal is to lose some weight quickly, then pick one and follow it. I guarantee you will lose some weight. Studies generally find any of the commercial weight loss diets will get approximately the same amount of weight off after 6 months to a year. For example, a recent study found the Atkins' Diet, Slim-Fast plan, Weight Watchers Pure Points program, and Rosemary Conley's Eat Yourself Slim diet, were all equally effective. (1)

Other studies comparing other popular diets have come to essentially the same conclusions. For example, a study that compared the Atkins diet, the Ornish diet, Weight Watchers, and The Zone Diet, found them to be essentially the same in their ability to take weight off after one year. (2)

Recall what I said about the number one reason diets fail, which is a lack of compliance. The lead researcher of this recent study stated:

"Our trial found that adherence level rather than diet type was the primary predictor of weight loss"(3)

Translated, it's not which diet they chose per se, but their ability to actually stick to a diet that predicted their weight loss success. I can just see the hands going up now, "but Will, some diets must be better than others, right?" Are some diets better then others? Absolutely. Some diets are healthier then others, some diets are better at preserving lean body mass, some diets are better at suppressing appetite - there are many differences between diets. However, while most of the popular diets will work for taking weight off, what is abundantly clear is that adhering to the diet is the most important aspect for keeping the weight off long term.

LINK--https://bit.ly/2DdpgQP

What is a diet? A diet is a short term strategy to lose weight. Long term weight loss is the result of an alteration in lifestyle. We are concerned with life long weight management, not quick fix weight loss here. I don't like the term diet, as it represents a short term attempt to lose weight vs. a change in lifestyle. Want to lose a bunch of weight quickly? Heck, I will give you the information on how to do that here and now for no charge.

For the next 90 to 120 days eat 12 scrambled egg whites, one whole grapefruit, and a gallon of water twice a a day. You will lose plenty of weight. Will it be healthy? Nope. Will the weight stay off once you are done with this diet and are then forced to go back to your "normal" way of eating? Not a chance. Will the weight you lose come from fat or will it be muscle, water, bone, and (hopefully!) some fat? The point being, there are many diets out there that are perfectly capable of getting weight off you, but when considering any eating plan designed to lose weight, you must ask yourself:

"Is this a way of eating I can follow long term?" Which brings me to my test: I call it the "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life?" Test. I know, it does not exactly roll off your tongue, but it gets the point across.

The lesson here is: any nutritional plan you pick to lose weight must be part of a lifestyle change you will be able to follow - in one form or another - forever. That is, if it's not a way of eating you can comply with indefinitely, even after you get to your target weight, then it's worthless.

Thus, many fad diets you see out there are immediately eliminated, and you don't have to worry about them. The question is not whether the diet is effective in the short term, but if the diet can be followed indefinitely as a lifelong way of eating. Going from "their" way of eating back to "your" way of eating after you reach your target weight is a recipe for disaster and the cause of the well established yo-yo dieting syndrome. Bottom line: there are no short cuts, there is no free lunch, and only a commitment to a lifestyle change is going to keep the fat off long term. I realize that's not what most people want to hear, but it's the truth, like it or not.

The statistics don't lie: getting the weight off is not the hardest part, keeping the weight off is! If you take a close look at the many well known fad/commercial diets out there, and you are honest with yourself, and apply my test above, you will find most of them no longer appeal to you as they once did. It also brings me to an example that adds additional clarity: If you have diet A that will cause the most weight loss in the shortest amount of time but is unbalanced and essentially impossible to follow long term vs. diet B, which will take the weight off at a slower pace, but is easier to follow, balanced, healthy, and something you can comply with year after year, which is superior? If diet A gets 30 lbs off you in 30 days, but by next year you have gained back all 30 lbs, but diet B gets 20 lbs off you in the next 3 months with another 20 lbs 3 months after that and the weight stays off by the end of that year, which is the better diet?

LINK--https://bit.ly/2DdpgQP

If you don't know the answer to those questions, you have totally missed the point of this article and the lesson it's trying to teach you, and are set up for failure. Go back and read this section again...By default, diet B is superior.

Teach a man to Fish... A well known Chinese Proverb is - Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

This expression fits perfectly with the next essential step in how to decide what eating plan you should follow to lose weight permanently. Will the diet plan you are considering teach you how to eat long term, or does it spoon-feed you information? Will the diet rely on special bars, shakes, supplements or pre-made foods they supply?

Let's do another diet A vs. diet B comparison. Diet A is going to supply you with their foods, as well as their special drink or bars to eat, and tell you exactly when to eat them. You will lose - say - 30 lbs in two months. Diet B is going to attempt to help you learn which foods you should eat, how many calories you need to eat, why you need to eat them, and generally attempt to help teach you how to eat as part of a total lifestyle change that will allow you to make informed decisions about your nutrition. Diet B causes a slow steady weight loss of 8 -10 lbs per month for the next 6 months and the weight stays off because you now know how to eat properly.

Recall the Chinese proverb. Both diets will assist you to lose weight. Only one diet, however, will teach you how to be self-reliant after your experience is over. Diet A is easier, to be sure, and causes faster weight loss than diet B, and diet B takes longer and requires some thinking and learning on your part. However, when diet A is over, you are right back where you started and have been given no skills to fish. Diet companies don't make their profits by teaching you to fish, they make their money by handing you a fish so you must rely on them indefinitely or come back to them after you gain all the weight back.

Thus, diet B is superior for allowing you to succeed where other diets failed, with knowledge gained that you can apply long term. Diet programs that attempt to spoon feed you a diet without any attempt to teach you how to eat without their help and/or rely on their shakes, bars, cookies, or pre-made foods, is another diet you can eliminate from your list of choices.

Diet plans that offer weight loss by drinking their product for several meals followed by a "sensible dinner;" diets that allow you to eat their special cookies for most meals along with their pre-planned menu; or diets that attempt to have you eating their bars, drink, or pre-made meals, are of the diet A variety covered above. They're easy to follow but destined for failure, long term. They all fail the "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life?" test, unless you really think you can eat cookies and shakes for the rest of your life...Bottom line here is, if the nutritional approach you use to lose weight, be it from a book, a class, a clinic, or an e-book, does not teach you how to eat, it's a loser for long term weight loss and it should be avoided.

The missing link for long term weight loss We now make our way to another test to help you choose a nutrition program for long term weight loss, and it does not actually involve nutrition. The missing link for long term weight loss is exercise. Exercise is the essential component of long term weight loss. Many diet programs do not contain an exercise component, which means they are losers for long term weight loss from the very start. Any program that has its focus on weight loss but does not include a comprehensive exercise plan is like buying a car without tires, or a plane without wings. People who have successfully kept the weight off overwhelmingly have incorporated exercise into their lives, and the studies that look at people who have successfully lost weight and kept it off invariably find these people were consistent with their diet and exercise plans. (4)

LINK--https://bit.ly/2DdpgQP

I am not going to list all the benefits of regular exercise here, but regular exercise has positive effects on your metabolism, allows you to eat more calories yet still be in a calorie deficit, and can help preserve lean body mass (LBM) which is essential to your health and metabolism. The many health benefits of regular exercise are well known, so I won't bother adding them here. The bottom line here is, (a) if you have any intentions of getting the most from your goal of losing weight and (b) plan to keep it off long term, regular exercise must be an integral part of the weight loss strategy. So, you can eliminate any program, be it book, e-book, clinic, etc. that does not offer you direction and help with this essential part of long term weight loss.

Side Bar: A quick note on exercise: Any exercise is better than no exercise. However, like diet plans, not all exercise is created equal, and many people often choose the wrong form of exercise to maximize their efforts to lose weight. For example, they will do aerobics exclusively and ignore resistance training. Resistance training is an essential component of fat loss, as it builds muscle essential to your metabolism, increases 24 hour energy expenditure, and has health benefits beyond aerobics.

The reader will also note I said fat loss above not weight loss. Though I use the term 'weight loss' throughout this article, I do so only because it is a familiar term most people understand. However, the true focus and goal of a properly set up nutrition and exercise plan should be on fat loss, not weight loss. A focus on losing weight, which may include a loss essential muscle, water, and even bone, as well as fat, is the wrong approach. Losing the fat and keeping the all important lean body mass (LBM), is the goal, and the method for achieving that can be found in my ebook(s) on the topic, and is beyond the scope of this article. Bottom line: the type of exercise, intensity of that exercise, length of time doing that exercise, etc., are essential variables here when attempting to lose FAT while retaining (LBM).

Psychology 101 of long term weight loss Many diet programs out there don't address the psychological aspect of why people fail to be successful with long term weight loss. However, quite a few studies exist that have looked at just that. In many respects, the psychological aspect is the most important for long term weight loss, and probably the most underappreciated component.

Studies that compare the psychological characteristics of people who have successfully kept the weight off to people who have regained the weight, see clear differences between these two groups. For example, one study that looked at 28 obese women who had lost weight but regained the weight that they had lost, compared to 28 formerly obese women who had lost weight and maintained their weight for at least one year and 20 women with a stable weight in the healthy range, found the women who regained the weight:

o Had a tendency to evaluate self-worth in terms of weight and shape o Had a lack of vigilance with regard to weight control o had a dichotomous (black-and-white) thinking style o Had the tendency to use eating to regulate mood.

The researchers concluded:

"The results suggest that psychological factors may provide some explanation as to why many people with obesity regain weight following successful weight loss."

This particular study was done on women, so it reflects some of the specific psychological issues women have - but make no mistake here - men also have their own psychological issues that can sabotage their long term weight loss efforts. (6)

Additional studies on men and women find psychological characteristics such as "having unrealistic weight goals, poor coping or problem-solving skills and low self-efficacy" often predict failure with long term weight loss. (7) On the other hand, psychological traits common to people who experienced successful long term weight loss include "...an internal motivation to lose weight, social support, better coping strategies and ability to handle life stress, self-efficacy, autonomy, assuming responsibility in life, and overall more psychological strength and stability." (8)

The main point of this section is to illustrate that psychology plays a major role in determining if people are successful with long term weight loss. If it's not addressed as part of the overall plan, it can be the factor that makes or breaks your success. This, however, is not an area most nutrition programs can adequately tackle and should not be expected to. However, the better programs do generally attempt to help with motivation, goal setting, and support. If you see yourself in the above lists from the groups that failed to maintain their weight long term, then know you will need to address those issues via counseling, support groups, etc. Don't expect any weight loss program to cover this topic adequately but do look for programs that attempt to offer support, goal setting, and resources that will keep you on track.

"There's a sucker born every minute" So why don't you see this type of honest information about the realities of long term weight loss more often? Let's be honest here, telling the truth is not the best way to sell bars, shakes, books, supplements, and programs. Hell, if by some miracle everyone who read this article actually followed it, and sent it on to millions of other people who actually followed it, makers of said products could be in financial trouble quickly. However, they also know - as the man said - "there's a sucker born every minute," so I doubt they will be kept up at night worrying about the effects that I, or this article, will have on their business.

So let's recap what has been learned here: the big picture realities of permanent weight loss and how you can look at a weight loss program and decide for yourself if it's for you based on what has been covered above:

o Permanent weight loss is not about finding a quick fix diet, but making a commitment to life style changes that include nutrition and exercise

o Any weight loss program you choose must pass the "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life?" test,

o The weight loss program you choose should ultimately teach you how to eat and be self reliant so you can make informed long term choices about your nutrition.

o The weight loss program you choose should not leave you reliant on commercial bars, shakes, supplements, or pre-made foods, for your long term success.

o The weight loss program you choose must have an effective exercise component.

o The weight loss program you choose should attempt to help with motivation, goal setting, and support, but can't be a replacement for psychological counseling if needed.

Conclusion I want to take this final section to add some additional points and clarity. For starters, the above advice is not for everyone. It's not intended for those who really have their nutrition dialed in, such as competitive bodybuilders and other athletes who benefit from fairly dramatic changes in their nutrition, such as 'off season' and 'pre-contest' and so on.

The article is also not intended for those with medical issues who may be on a specific diet to treat or manage a specific medical condition. The article is intended for the average person who wants to get off the Yo-Yo diet merry-go-round once and for all. As that's probably 99% of the population, it will cover millions of people.

People should also not be scared off by my "you have to eat this way forever" advice. This does not mean you will be dieting for the rest of your life and have nothing but starvation to look forward to. What it does mean, however, is you will have to learn to eat properly even after you reach your target weight and that way of eating should not be a huge departure from how you ate to lose the weight in the first place. Once you get to your target weight - and or your target bodyfat levels - you will go onto a maintenance phase which generally has more calories and choices of food, even the occasional treat, like a slice of pizza or whatever.

Maintenance diets are a logical extension of the diet you used to lose the weight, but they are not based on the diet you followed that put the weight on in the first place!

Regardless of which program you choose, use the above 'big picture' approach which will keep you on track for long term weight loss. See you in the gym!

LINK--https://bit.ly/2DdpgQP

[loseweighthacks101-blog]

The Big Picture of Permanent Weight Loss

A lot of people who read my articles and e-books know me as a science guy who likes to quote reviews and apply research to everyday problems such as weight loss, bodybuilding, and other health/fitness related topics. However , from time to time you have to step back from the science and look at the big picture to help bring people back into focus, to enable them to see the forest for the trees, so to speak. For most people reading this article, finding an effective diet that works most of the time ought to seem as complicated as nuclear physics. It's not, but there are a bewildering number of choices for diets out there. Excessive fat or no fat? High carbohydrate or no carbohydrate? Low protein or high protein? To produce matters worse, there are a million variations and combinations to the above diet scenarios to add to the confusion. Seems like endless and causes many people to throw up their hands in frustration and give up. In this article I will make an effort to change all that. There are some general guidelines, rules of thumb, and ways of viewing a diet program that will allow you to decide, for good, if it's the right diet for you. You may not always like what I have to say, and you should be under no illusions this is another quick fix, "lose 100 lbs. in 20 days, " guide of some sort. However , if you're sick and tired of being confused, tired of taking the weight off only to put it back on, and tired of curious how to take the first steps to deciding the right diet for you that will result in permanent weight loss, then this can be the article that could change your life... Does your diet pass "The Test"? What is the number one reason diets fail long-lasting; above all else? The number one reason is... drum roll... a lack of long term compliance. The numbers don't lie; the vast majority of men and women that lose weight will regain it - and often exceed what they lost. You knew that already don't you? Yet, what are you doing to avoid it? Here's another reality check: virtually any diet you pick which often follows the basic concept of "burning" more calories then you consume - the well accepted "calories in high fat calories out" mantra - will cause you to lose weight. To some degree, they all work: Atkins-style, no carb diets, low fat excessive carb diets, all manner of fad diets - it simply does not matter in the short term. Get More Information about leptitox reviews If your goal may be to lose some weight quickly, then pick one and follow it. I guarantee you will lose some weight. Studies typically find any of the commercial weight loss diets will get approximately the same amount of weight off after 6 months to a season. For example , a recent study found the Atkins' Diet, Slim-Fast plan, Weight Watchers Pure Points program, and also Rosemary Conley's Eat Yourself Slim diet, were all equally effective. (1) Other studies comparing many other popular diets have come to essentially the same conclusions. For example , a study that compared the Atkins diet, a Ornish diet, Weight Watchers, and The Zone Diet, found them to be essentially the same in their ability to get weight off after one year. (2) Recall what I said about the number one reason diets fail, the industry lack of compliance. The lead researcher of this recent study stated: "Our trial found that adherence stage rather than diet type was the primary predictor of weight loss"(3) Translated, it's not which diet they decided on per se, but their ability to actually stick to a diet that predicted their weight loss success. I can just read the hands going up now, "but Will, some diets must be better than others, right? " Are some quality diets better then others? Absolutely. Some diets are healthier then others, some diets are better with preserving lean body mass, some diets are better at suppressing appetite - there are many differences between diets. Nevertheless while most of the popular diets will work for taking weight off, what is abundantly clear is that adhering to the diet plan is the most important aspect for keeping the weight off long term. What is a diet? A diet is a short term technique to lose weight. Long term weight loss is the result of an alteration in lifestyle. We are concerned with life long weight management, not quick fix fat reduction here. I don't like the term diet, as it represents a short term attempt to lose weight vs . a change in existence. Want to lose a bunch of weight quickly? Heck, I will give you the information on how to do that here and now for no charge. For any next 90 to 120 days eat 12 scrambled egg whites, one whole grapefruit, and a gallon of water twice a a day. You will lose plenty of weight. Will it be healthy? Nope. Will the body weight stay off once you are done with this diet and are then forced to go back to your "normal" way of eating? Not a probability. Will the weight you lose come from fat or will it be muscle, water, bone, and (hopefully! ) some fat? The point being, there are many diets out there that are perfectly capable of getting weight off you, nevertheless when considering any eating plan designed to lose weight, you must ask yourself: "Is this a way of eating I can follow long-term? " Which brings me to my test: I call it the "Can I eat this way for the rest of my life? " Test. I know, it does not exactly roll off your tongue, but it contains the point across. The lesson here is: any nutritional plan you pick to lose weight must be part of a way of life change you will be able to follow - in one form or another - forever. That is, if it's not a way of taking you can comply with indefinitely, even after you get to your target weight, then it's worthless. Thus, many fad meal plans you see out there are immediately eliminated, and you don't have to worry about them. The question is not whether the diet is most effective in the short term, but if the diet can be followed indefinitely as a lifelong way of eating. Going from "their" way of choosing back to "your" way of eating after you reach your target weight is a recipe for disaster and the trigger of the well established yo-yo dieting syndrome. Bottom line: there are no short cuts, there is no free lunch, and only dedication to a lifestyle change is going to keep the fat off long term. I realize that's not what most people want to see, but it's the truth, like it or not. The statistics don't lie: getting the weight off is not all the hardest part, keeping the weight off is! If you take a close look at the many well known fad/commercial diets available, and you are honest with yourself, and apply my test above, you will find most of them no longer appeal to most people as they once did. It also brings me to an example that adds additional clarity: If you have diet Some sort of that will cause the most weight loss in the shortest amount of time but is unbalanced and essentially impossible to follow long-run vs . diet B, which will take the weight off at a slower pace, but is easier to follow, well-balanced, healthy, and something you can comply with year after year, which is superior? If diet A gets 30 lbs off anyone in 30 days, but by next year you have gained back all 30 lbs, but diet P gets 20 lbs off you in the next 3 months with another 20 lbs 3 months after that and the fat stays off by the end of that year, which is the better diet? If you don't know the answer to those doubts, you have totally missed the point of this article and the lesson it's trying to teach you, and are set up for fail. Go back and read this section again... By default, diet B is superior. Teach a man to Species of fish... A well known Chinese Proverb is - Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Coach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. This expression fits perfectly with the next essential help how to decide what eating plan you should follow to lose weight permanently. Will the diet plan you are considering teach you ways to eat long term, or does it spoon-feed you information? Will the diet rely on special bars, shakes, supplements and pre-made foods they supply? Let's do another diet A vs . diet B comparison. Diet A might supply you with their foods, as well as their special drink or bars to eat, and tell you exactly when you eat them. You will lose - say - 30 lbs in two months. Diet B is going to attempt to assist you learn which foods you should eat, how many calories you need to eat, why you need to eat them, and generally seek to help teach you how to eat as part of a total lifestyle change that will allow you to make informed decisions about ones nutrition. Diet B causes a slow steady weight loss of 8 -10 lbs per month for the following 6 months and the weight stays off because you now know how to eat properly. Recall the Chinese proverb. Each of those diets will assist you to lose weight. Only one diet, however , will teach you how to be self-reliant after your encounter is over. Diet A is easier, to be sure, and causes faster weight loss than diet B, and diet D takes longer and requires some thinking and learning on your part. However , when diet A is passed, you are right back where you started and have been given no skills to fish. Diet companies tend not to make their profits by teaching you to fish, they make their money by handing you a species of fish so you must rely on them indefinitely or come back to them after you gain all the weight back. Thus, diet G is superior for allowing you to succeed where other diets failed, with knowledge gained that you can apply long run. Diet programs that attempt to spoon feed you a diet without any attempt to teach you how to eat without their assistance and/or rely on their shakes, bars, cookies, or pre-made foods, is another diet you can eliminate in the list of choices. Diet plans that offer weight loss by drinking their product for several meals followed by a "sensible evening meal; " diets that allow you to eat their special cookies for most meals along with their pre-planned menu; or diet programs that attempt to have you eating their bars, drink, or pre-made meals, are of the diet A variety taken care of above. They're easy to follow but destined for failure, long term. They all fail the "Can I take that way for the rest of my life? " test, unless you really think you can eat cookies and shakes for any rest of your life... Bottom line here is, if the nutritional approach you use to lose weight, be it from a book, a category, a clinic, or an e-book, does not teach you how to eat, it's a loser for long term weight loss therefore should be avoided. The missing link for long term weight loss We now make our way to another test to help you out choose a nutrition program for long term weight loss, and it does not actually involve nutrition. The missing link with regard to long term weight loss is exercise. Exercise is the essential component of long term weight loss. Many diet programs do not contain an exercising component, which means they are losers for long term weight loss from the very start. Any program that has its consentrate on weight loss but does not include a comprehensive exercise plan is like buying a car without tires, or a plane without wings. People who have successfully kept the weight off overwhelmingly have incorporated exercise into their lives, and the studies that will look at people who have successfully lost weight and kept it off invariably find these people were consistent with their own diet and exercise plans. (4) I am not going to list all the benefits of regular exercise here, but routine workouts has positive effects on your metabolism, allows you to eat more calories yet still be in a calorie deficit, and can guide preserve lean body mass (LBM) which is essential to your health and metabolism. The many health benefits of regular exercise are well known, so that i won't bother adding them here. The bottom line here is, (a) if you have any intentions of getting the most through the goal of losing weight and (b) plan to keep it off long term, regular exercise must be an integral part of the losing weight strategy. So , you can eliminate any program, be it book, e-book, clinic, etc . that does not offer you direction plus help with this essential part of long term weight loss. Side Bar: A quick note on exercise: Any exercise provides improvement over no exercise. However , like diet plans, not all exercise is created equal, and many people often choose the wrong version of exercise to maximize their efforts to lose weight. For example , they will do aerobics exclusively and ignore resistance training. Weight training is an essential component of fat loss, as it builds muscle essential to your metabolism, increases 24 hour energy expense, and has health benefits beyond aerobics. The reader will also note I said fat loss above not weight loss. Nevertheless I use the term 'weight loss' throughout this article, I do so only because it is a familiar term most people know. However , the true focus and goal of a properly set up nutrition and exercise plan should be on fat loss, not necessarily weight loss. A focus on losing weight, which may include a loss essential muscle, water, and even bone, as well as fat, is a wrong approach. Losing the fat and keeping the all important lean body mass (LBM), is the goal, along with the method for achieving that can be found in my ebook(s) on the topic, and is beyond the scope of this article. In a nutshell: the type of exercise, intensity of that exercise, length of time doing that exercise, etc ., are essential variables here when trying to lose FAT while retaining (LBM). Psychology 101 of long term weight loss Many diet programs out there don't address the actual psychological aspect of why people fail to be successful with long term weight loss. However , quite a few studies exist that have seen just that. In many respects, the psychological aspect is the most important for long term weight loss, and probably the most underappreciated element. Studies that compare the psychological characteristics of people who have successfully kept the weight off to individuals who regained the weight, see clear differences between these two groups. For example , one study that looked at 36 obese women who had lost weight but regained the weight that they had lost, compared to 31 formerly obese women who had lost weight and maintained their weight for at least one year as well as 20 women with a stable weight in the healthy range, found the women who regained the weight: u Had a tendency to evaluate self-worth in terms of weight and shape o Had a lack of vigilance with regard to excess fat control o had a dichotomous (black-and-white) thinking style o Had the tendency to use eating to modify mood. The researchers concluded: "The results suggest that psychological factors may provide some explanation as to why a lot of people with obesity regain weight following successful weight loss. " This particular study was done on women, therefore it reflects some of the specific psychological issues women have - but make no mistake here - males also have their own psychological issues that can sabotage their long term weight loss efforts. (6) Additional studies on people find psychological characteristics such as "having unrealistic weight goals, poor coping or problem-solving skills and small self-efficacy" often predict failure with long term weight loss. (7) On the other hand, psychological traits common to people who skilled successful long term weight loss include "... an internal motivation to lose weight, social support, better coping strategies and ability to handle life stress, self-efficacy, autonomy, assuming responsibility in life, and overall more psychological potency and stability. " (8) The main point of this section is to illustrate that psychology plays a major purpose in determining if people are successful with long term weight loss. If it's not addressed as part of the overall plan, it can also be the factor that makes or breaks your success. This, however , is not an area most nutrition programs may well adequately tackle and should not be expected to. However , the better programs do generally attempt to help with motivation, goal setting tips, and support. If you see yourself in the above lists from the groups that failed to maintain their unwanted weight long term, then know you will need to address those issues via counseling, support groups, etc . Don't expect any weightloss routine to cover this topic adequately but do look for programs that attempt to offer support, goal setting, and options that will keep you on track. "There's a sucker born every minute" So why don't you see this type of truthful information about the realities of long term weight loss more often? Let's be honest here, telling the truth is not the best way to sell rungs, shakes, books, supplements, and programs. Hell, if by some miracle everyone who read this article really followed it, and sent it on to millions of other people who actually followed it, makers of claimed products could be in financial trouble quickly. However , they also know - as the man said - "there's a sucker born every minute, " so I doubt they will be kept up at night worrying about the side effects that I, or this article, will have on their business. So let's recap what has been learned here: the substantial picture realities of permanent weight loss and how you can look at a weight loss program and decide for yourself if it's for your needs based on what has been covered above: o Permanent weight loss is not about finding a quick fix diet, but creating a commitment to life style changes that include nutrition and exercise o Any weight loss program you choose must pass any "Can I eat that way for the rest of my life? " test, o The weight loss program you choose ought to ultimately teach you how to eat and be self reliant so you can make informed long term choices about your eating plan. o The weight loss program you choose should not leave you reliant on commercial bars, shakes, supplements, or pre-made foods, for your long term success. o The weight loss program you choose must have an effective exercise component. o The weight reducing system you choose should attempt to help with motivation, goal setting, and support, but can't be a replacement for psychological counseling when needed. Conclusion I want to take this final section to add some additional points and clarity. For starters, these advice is not for everyone. It's not intended for those who really have their nutrition dialed in, such as competitive bodybuilders and also other athletes who benefit from fairly dramatic changes in their nutrition, such as 'off season' and 'pre-contest' and so on. This great article is also not intended for those with medical issues who may be on a specific diet to treat or manage a specialized medical condition. The article is intended for the average person who wants to get off the Yo-Yo diet merry-go-round once and for all. As that's very likely 99% of the population, it will cover millions of people. People should also not be scared off by my "you ought to eat this way forever" advice. This does not mean you will be dieting for the rest of your life and have nothing but hunger to look forward to. What it does mean, however , is you will have to learn to eat properly even after you accomplish your target weight and that way of eating should not be a huge departure from how you ate to lose the extra fat in the first place. Once you get to your target weight - and or your target bodyfat levels - you certainly will go onto a maintenance phase which generally has more calories and choices of food, even the sporadic treat, like a slice of pizza or whatever. Maintenance diets are a logical extension of the diet you actually used to lose the weight, but they are not based on the diet you followed that put the weight with in the first place! Regardless of which program you choose, use the above 'big picture' approach which will keep you on track for long lasting weight loss. See you in the gym! References (1) Truby H, et al. Randomised controlled trial with four commercial weight loss programmes in the UK: initial findings from the BBC "diet trials" BMJ 2006; 332: 1309-1314 (3 June), (2) Michael D., et al, Comparison of the Atkins, Ornish, Weight Watchers, and Zoom Diets for Weight Loss and Heart Disease Risk Reduction. A Randomized Trial. JAMA. 2005; 293: 43-53. (3) Comparison of Diets for Weight Loss and Heart Disease Risk Reduction-Reply. Michael Dansinger. JAMA. 2005; 293: 1590-1591. (4) Kruger J. et al. Dietary and physical activity behaviors among adults successful at weight loss repair. International Journal of Behavioral Nutrition and Physical Activity 2006, 3: 17 doi: 10. 1186/1479-5868-3-17 (5) Byrne S, et al. Weight maintenance and relapse in obesity: a qualitative study. Int J Obes Relat Metab Disord. 2003 Aug; 27(8): 955-62. (6) Borg P, et al. Food selection together with eating behaviour during weight maintenance intervention and 2-y follow-up in obese men. Int J Obes Relat Metab Disord. 2004 Dec; 28(12): 1548-54. (7) Byrne SM. Psychological aspects of weight maintenance and additionally relapse in obesity. J Psychosom Res. 2002 Nov; 53(5): 1029-36. (8) Elfhag K, et ing. Who succeeds in maintaining weight loss? A conceptual review of factors associated with weight loss maintenance and weight restore. Obes Rev. 2005 Feb; 6(1): 67-85 Author Bio Will Brink is an author, columnist and skilled in the supplement, fitness, bodybuilding, and weight loss industry and has been extensively published. Will graduated from Harvard University with a concentration in the natural sciences. His often ground breaking articles can be found in publications such as Lets Stay, Muscle Media, MuscleMag International, The Life Extension Magazine, Muscle n Fitness, Exercise For Men Only, in addition to numerous others. He has been co author of several studies relating to sports nutrition and health obtained in peer reviewed academic journals, as well as having commentary published in JAMA. Will formerly trained high level Olympic athletes, bodybuilders and fitness and now runs seminars for (SWAT).

[lindafrancois]

How Christina Lost 50 pounds, 31 Total Inches, and Did Her First Pull-up

I love inspiring success stories.

I especially love sharing stories from real people with busy lives who have struggled in the same way most of us struggle:

Multiple failed attempts at weight loss.

Mental baggage and challenges to overcome.

Negative self talk.

Yo-yo dieting.

Christina, a years-long member of the Nerd Fitness community, is somebody who has gained and lost the same weight more times than she can count. She grew up with negative self-talk, chased lose-weight-quick strategies, and struggled to love herself through the ups and downs.

After her husband stumbled across Nerd Fitness (smart fella), he told her to consider joining our community, and I’m so thankful she did!

Two years ago, we launched a beta version of our super fun 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program, and Christina was one of our guinea pigs that signed up!

In those two years, she has transformed inside and out, and I’m so excited to share her story today. In these two years, she has had this great level of success without access to a gym without crazy dietary restrictions or calorie starvation, and finally loves herself in the way she deserves to be loved!

Although I’m very proud of the fact that Christina has invested in herself through coaching program month after month, I know you’ll learn a lot from her story.

At the end, I’ll share with you EXACTLY how to make your changes today. No more negative self-talk, no more reliance on motivation or willpower, but a focus on systems and progress and accountability!

Let’s see how Christina transformed…

How Christina lost 50 pounds and finally started loving herself

Steve: Hey Christina! Can you take us through a typical day before you decided to level up your life?

Christina: This is embarrassing to admit, but here’s a typical day when my husband would travel for work, which was about 2 weeks of every month:

Wake up, drink coffee, eat some string cheese, check emails, eat more cheese, drink more coffee, check more emails, watch a show or two on streaming media, check more emails, eat more cheese, switch to Diet Coke, grab some Taco Bell, tutor kids for a few hours, grab a beer or two with friends, eat pizza or some kind of horrible take-out, watch more TV until midnight or so, then head to sleep.

Steve: Taco Bell, pizza, beers, cheese on cheese on cheese, tons of take-out…sounds like a typical diet for many people struggling to lose weight.

Was there a specific moment when you decided to make a change?

Christina: It was more of a bunch of small things:

My blood pressure was kind of high.

My cholesterol was creeping up.

I struggled with being out of breath with the simplest of tasks.

Walking anywhere in Boulder for long periods of time meant open-mouth breathing. So embarrassing 🙁

Oh, and learning to snowboard was nearly impossible. There were days we’d drive the two hours to the mountains, I’d go down the bunny hill once, and be done for the day – I didn’t have the physical or mental stamina to try again.

I’d then sit in the lodge and drown my sorrows in chocolate brownies while my husband would go down the blue and black runs by himself.

Super fun for both of us. /sarcasm

Steve: Blah, yeah that’s no fun. So, you eventually decided that “enough is enough,” and ended up on Nerd Fitness! Was this the first time you had ever tried getting in shape?

Christina: Definitely not. I’ve kind of lost count of how many times I flirted with weight loss and getting fit. These are just some of the strategies I remember:

#1 Massive body shaming from my mom – including gems like “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips” and “If you don’t lose weight before your wedding, you will always look back at your photos and feel terrible for how bad you look.”

#2 The single teacher income diet – I lost 50 lbs in six months only to gain it back when I could afford food again.

#3 Weight Watchers – I was used to body shaming from my mom, I figured, “Why not let strangers do it too?” Turns out this was less than ideal for my self esteem. I know WW works for some, but my particular experience wasn’t great.

#4 Various exercise VHS tapes from the 80s and 90s – My faves included Tony Little and It Figures with Charlene Prickett, because nothing motivates you like a built dude with a ponytail, or 80s leotards coupled with bad music!

#5 Beachbody shakes – I found the shakes to be excellent when mixed with a half pot of coffee, two tbsp of peanut butter, and a cup of half and half. No idea why I didn’t lose weight, hahaha.

#6 Cutting calories without tracking or learning – For some reason, I believed that even though I had no idea how much I was eating regularly, I could guess my way through calorie restriction. This did not work.

#7 Complaining – “Why am I so fat? Why can’t I lose weight? There must be something wrong with my metabolism. Why is exercise so difficult?”

#8 Wishing the fat away – “Maybe if I skip dinner I’ll lose a pound or two. Maybe if I skip dessert I will lose weight. If only a magical weight loss fairy existed…”

Steve: Thanks for sharing your struggles honestly with me (and now the world!). I’m curious: what made you decide to take the plunge and jump on board with Nerd Fitness and our coaching program?

Christina: Prior to NF Coaching, I mentioned to my husband I needed help.

After all of my failed attempts above, I knew I couldn’t do this on my own and wanted guidance.

I live in Colorado, land of the uber-fit, but I felt like none of the options available really meshed what I needed. I didn’t enjoy exercise and just couldn’t relate to fitness junkies.

The NF Coaching announcement came at a perfect time, and I was really pleased to see that the program wasn’t just personalized workouts, but also that my coach Jim would help me with my nutrition and mindset.

And you saw how I used to eat – I definitely needed help in that area!

Steve: Amen. We all know we need to exercise more and eat less, it’s actually DOING it consistently that’s challenging. So take me through your training schedule with Jim:

Christina: I told Jim about the equipment I had available (or lack thereof) and my goals, and my schedule, so he built a program that fit into that exact situation.

We did a lot of body weight to start with, no gym for me!

These days, I do a combination of bodyweight training (planks and wall sits), adjustable weights (overhead press, side rows), and anything Jim gives me that has to do with my pull-up bar and gymnastic rings (chin-ups, pull-ups, ring holds, etc.)

Steve: Let’s talk nutrition: What’s been your nutritional strategy?

Christina: Definitely more of an “if it fits your macros” (IIFYM) type of deal – I try to shoot for 130g of protein and under 80g for carbs and fat. I married an Italian who loves to cook; we quickly realized totally cutting pasta out of our lives wasn’t going to work.

So Jim helped me to be smarter about everything.

We time our big Italian meals on days we do a lot of physical activity, instead of every day which was always my problem in the past.

I also had to cut back my cheese addiction, which was super sad. It’s amazing how consuming 500+ calories of cheese a day can impact your diet. Again, who knew?

Steve: Yes! I too follow a “mental model” macros-type diet. What’s a typical day like for you NOW, after the changes?

Christina: SO Different!

Up between 5AM and 6AM, drink one cup of coffee with turmeric, cinnamon, and pepper, eat a small breakfast (normally an egg and some protein with one slice of really skinny bread).

I then do some work and housework, bodyweight training around 10am, drink a protein shake, drag husband out for a walk, then eat lunch around 12:30pm (lots of protein). We run our own company – a raw pet food company – and it keeps us both plenty busy

I then do more work, tutor in the afternoon, sometimes volunteer at a feral cat colony, and then dinner (protein and veggies), relax, and bed.

Much more structure in my life, and amazingly, I get things done. Who knew? 😉

Steve: What is your internal self talk like compared to 2 years ago?

Christina: There’s a lot less internal arguing about exercise or eating.

I’ll admit the first six months were miserable and really challenging. I cried my way through every workout – they were hard mentally, physically, and emotionally. This is what made it worse –  I would tell myself “I deserve to suffer, because I let myself go.”

I then realized that this self-talk was unproductive, and through conversations with Jim, my husband, and myself, I changed my attitude about the whole thing.

I realized that exercise is something I’m lucky to be able to do.

It’s something that feels good and makes me feel good. My husband knows when I haven’t exercised yet for the day because my mood is lousy!

Thanks to these two years, I can now snowboard, I can hike, I can walk through downtown Boulder without open-mouth breathing.

I can do things I want to do, even if they’re hard, without beating myself up.

Just last month, we hiked up Mt. Sanitas in the rain, soaked to the bone! This would have never happened before. 3.1 miles, 1300 feet of elevation gain, and *wet* – but I did it!

And enjoyed myself! It was pretty awesome. 🙂

Steve: What was the toughest or most important change you made?

Christina: After asking my husband for his opinion, apparently the toughest change was cutting back on cheese! And I quote, “You complained the *most* about that.”

That was done fairly early on, maybe six months into working with Jim, so it’s difficult for me to remember how tough that was. Apparently it had an impact on my husband, though! 😉

Steve: Talk to me about your progress along the way. How have you measured your progress and what has helped?  

Christina: I log all of my food daily and love the structure and awareness it brings to my life.

I can plan my day out based on what’s for dinner without feeling like I’m losing out on food. With food logging, it’s pretty easy to figure out what doesn’t agree with me, and I’ve gotten a lot better with portion control when it comes to items I want to taste but don’t want to gorge on (cake, gelato, etc.)

A bite or two of something is not going to ruin my day, but if I eat the whole thing, I know I’ll feel sick to my stomach and be useless the rest of the day.

As for tracking progress, I actually weigh myself daily. Weighing in used to be a source of shame; now it’s just a data point, and I can see how what I ate the day before affects me (I’m looking at you, salt).

I also take progress photos, track my body fat percentage, and track other measurements too.

Steve: Okay, so be honest: was NF Coaching worth the investment for you? Why stay 2 years even after having success early on? 

Christina: Simple. I’ve lost weight in the past, and I knew that it would just come right back if I didn’t really change my ways. In working with Jim, I lost 40 pounds fairly quickly once the diet changed and exercise was done on a fairly regular basis.

However, it was really important to me that the changes stuck.

Jim knows exactly how to push things and how to tweak behaviors in order to get results. He’s had great ideas around food, and his experience with a wide variety of people has given him some great insight into how people work.

I get exactly the level of support I need, and Jim can totally read between the lines of what I say and what I really mean. There’s always a goal in mind, and I work well with that type of motivation. These are our current goals:

Climb a 14er (mountain) – climbing a mountain of at least 14K feet with 3K feet of elevation gain

Do a muscle-up

Do a handstand

Steve: LOVE IT. And you are working with the best coach ever when it comes to handstands – Jim wrote our Beginner’s Guide to Handstands, led our Handstand Course, AND has helped other clients get their first handstands too.

Steve: Do you have any nerdy passions or pursuits?

Christina: I cosplay, play the Dresden Files tabletop rpg with a group of friends across three time zones, read a lot of comic books, and play video games in a casual way.

Steve: Nerd credentials check out – you’re in the right place! 

I want to ask you one final question: There are TONS of Nerd Fitness readers right now who are at your “Day 1” (or heavier). Do you have any words of advice for those folks? 

Christina: Change is so personal. You need to look within yourself and ask if you’re happy with where you are physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Then you have to ask yourself if you’re okay with the way your life is currently “hard,” and if you’re willing to try a different kind of “hard” in order to get some different results.

My “hard” before was heavy breathing, the possibility of medication for various health issues, clothing not fitting correctly, feeling embarrassed going out in public, and not being able to participate in activities with my husband.

Now my “hard” is more saying no to free food because I KNOW it’s not really free, trying to get in one more rep with a little more weight, and coming to grips with what my body and can’t do, despite how much I exercise.

Steve: Thanks so much for sharing Christina! Jim shares your updates with our team and I feel like a proud parent (that’s not weird, right? cool) watching you continue to transform every month!

When we meet in person we can practice our handstands! I’ll make sure to bring Jim too.

The 6 Keys to Christina’s Fantastic Transformation

As I’ve been following Christina’s story over the past two years, I can think of six specific things she did differently than most people who struggle and never succeed:

#1 CHRISTINA KEPT TRYING AND FAILING DIFFERENTLY

Weight Watchers, Beachbody, calorie restriction, negative self talk, dieting…Christina tried it all. Most people struggle with weight loss and assume that they’re broken. Christina eventually realized that she just hadn’t found the path that worked for her yet.

So she kept searching.

When she started working with us at Nerd Fitness, she went the route that sounded the most exciting to her: hiking with her husband, snowboarding, bodyweight training, and no gym membership.

There’s no ONE way to get in shape, and Christina found the perfect plan for her – the one she would actually STICK with.

#2 CHRISTINA COMMITTED TO HERSELF & INVESTED IN HERSELF

She had tried to get in shape before. Many times.

And failed. Many times.

Most people blindly chase the next fad or making half-hearted attempts to get in shape. They also give up at the first sign of adversity and can’t get any changes to stick.

Even worse? Sticking with a “healthy” plan for months only to discover that it doesn’t actually generate results (I see you low fat food, starvation, running endlessly on a treadmill).

Christina recognized that years of these strategies hadn’t resulted in permanent progress, so a different approach was needed.

She knew she couldn’t do this alone, so she hired a coach who knows her better than she knows herself.

Through her ups and downs, highs and lows, successes and struggles, her coach is there to set the right pace for her at that point in her life. When life changes, so does her workout and nutrition programming.

Certain things are worth investing in, and Christina decided that she was worth it.

#3 CHRISTINA DIDN’T LET SPEEDBUMPS BECOME ROADBLOCKS

Along the way, Christina struggled: this getting in shape stuff isn’t easy! One missed workout becomes two, which becomes six months off in the blink of an eye.

But she relied on her husband, her coach, and her knowledge that her coach had set her up to succeed, and all she had to do was stick to the plan.

Even after Christina managed to successfully build powerful habits and momentum, she was diagnosed with some serious health challenges: severe osteoarthritis in her left hip and moderate to severe osteoarthritis in her right hip.

Most people understandably fall apart when hit with a setback like this. They say “oh what the hell.” If their bodies are failing them, might as well eat junk food and stop exercising because, “What’s the point?”

Christina went the other way.

She said, “I am not my x-ray.”

While her diagnosis has put a damper on running, lunges, and squats, she worked with a physical therapist, doctor, and her coach to come up with other options to keep her physically active.

Because of her attitude change, Christina was able to turn these mountains into molehills and step over them.

And now she’s focused on climbing ACTUAL mountains.

#4 CHRISTINA STOPPED WISHING AND STARTED DOING

Why do we beat ourselves up when we run out of willpower? Why do we get mad at ourselves for not being “motivated enough”? Why do we rely on hope and wishful thinking when it comes to getting healthy?

Because we think successful people have more of this stuff than we do, and that’s why they’ve lost weight.

We then lament the fact that we’re not like them and thus are doomed.

Reality paints a much different picture: people who have successfully lost weight and kept it off stopped chasing motivation. They recognized that willpower was limited and motivation would abandon them when life got tough. So instead, they stopped hoping and wishing and instead start building systems:

They have somebody they can be accountable to.

They study past failures and change their approach.

They get started and course correct along the way.

They structure their environment and day so that willpower isn’t needed.

This is exactly what Christina did. She stopped expecting things to be different and took the future into her own hands.

She knew she couldn’t do this alone, so she enlisted help, she got her husband’s support, and she GOT TO WORK.

#5 CHRISTINA TRACKED THE PROBLEM TO CRACK THE PROBLEM

Here’s my opinion as to why Christina succeeded: She started tracking her food daily. She could then share this food log with her coach who could make small changes and suggestions that didn’t overwhelm her.

Christina also weighed herself daily, not due to OCD neurosis, but instead as a scientist collecting data points and adjusting her progress!

She’s now educated with how many calories she can eat each day, the makeup of everything she eats, and she can make much more educated and informed decisions guilt free with each meal.

By tracking her food and her macros and analyzing her relationship with food, she can still eat home-cooked Italian food regularly without screwing up her nutrition goals. She MAKES through timing and tracking rather than hoping it works out.

In addition to these successes, through tracking she was able to discover two areas that were holding her back: she quit drinking and cut back significantly on high calorie cheese consumption.

These changes might not have happened had she not been tracking so diligently!

#6 CHRISTINA FINDS NEW DRAGONS TO SLAY

Her journey began with a weight loss goal: “I want to lose weight and feel better about myself.” And she lost 40 pounds very quickly on her journey.

This is where the big change happened:

Instead of saying “all done!” like se would have in the past, she instead worked with her coach to ask, “What am I capable of now that I’ve done all this hard work? Maybe I can work towards pull ups and get better at hiking!”

“Okay I got pull-ups, now what do I want to do?”

She and Jim consistently updated her goals and missions so she always had a new target. She wants to climb a mountain. She wants to do a handstand and a muscle-up. And every day her workouts and her nutrition are set up in a way for her to get closer to those goals!

And if she ever reaches these goals? Perfect. She’ll get new ones!

There’s always another dragon to slay…

How will Your Next Attempt Be Different? Be like Christina!

Here’s how Christina transformed like Optimus Prime, and how you can too:

Keep at it. Christina didn’t find lasting success with Weight Watchers, Beachbody, or calorie restriction. Although those programs work for some people, they didn’t work for her. Nerd Fitness spoke her language, so she followed the process.

Track the problem, crack the problem. The most successful people that have lost weight and kept it off all track their progress and adherence in some way. Start by writing down what you eat for the next few days, calculate the calories, and educate yourself! See how your photos change, and make adjustments based on your data. Hope + action = win.

Invest in yourself, get help where you can. A lot of people think hiring a coach is a sign of weakness. Christina realized this is the wrong attitude, and has used her coach to change her life. Invest your time or your money into taking this fitness stuff seriously and get help or get educated. It’s your life we’re talking about here!

Always have another dragon to slay. Christina completely changed from “I want to lose some weight” to “What am I capable of? I want to do a handstand and climb a freakin mountain!” This is the key to sustained weight loss.

Train in the way that works for you. Christina does bodyweight exercises, hikes, and goes snowboarding with her husband. There’s no gym in sight! There are a million ways to get in shape, so pick the ones that fit your goals and make you happy!

This should get you started, regardless of whether or not you join any of the programs at Nerd Fitness!

You can start bodyweight training TODAY.

You can adjust your nutrition TODAY.

You can start to build your guild TODAY.

Now, if you’re somebody like Christina and seek 1-on-1 guidance and instruction, I’d love for you to check out our 1-on-1 NF Online Coaching Program and chat with us about it.

We schedule phone calls with everybody who wants to join the program to make sure we’re a good fit for each other – you can schedule your free call by clicking on the box below:

I want success for you the way that Christina found it – through healthier eating, a healthier mindset, and a complete overhaul of her attitude!

Two years seems like so far away, but think back to where you were 2 years ago – how much has changed since then? Look back at photos of you from two years ago. I bet TWO things are true:

“This feels like it was yesterday…”

“But I don’t really look much different.”

As they say, “The days are long, but the years are short.”

So why not start today? If you enjoy the journey, it makes the struggle worth it.

If you have questions for me or Christina, let us know in the comments!

Team NF is here to help you!

-Steve

PS: If coaching isn’t your thing, we also have a powerful online course that is self-paced and has helped 50,000 rebels level up their lives. 

The NF Academy has a 1-time payment, 7 levels of workouts, 10 levels of nutrition, boss battles, quests, and the most supportive community on the internet.

How Christina Lost 50 pounds, 31 Total Inches, and Did Her First Pull-up published first on https://dietariouspage.tumblr.com/

[denisalvney]

How Christina Lost 50 pounds, 31 Total Inches, and Did Her First Pull-up

I love inspiring success stories.

I especially love sharing stories from real people with busy lives who have struggled in the same way most of us struggle:

Multiple failed attempts at weight loss.

Mental baggage and challenges to overcome.

Negative self talk.

Yo-yo dieting.

Christina, a years-long member of the Nerd Fitness community, is somebody who has gained and lost the same weight more times than she can count. She grew up with negative self-talk, chased lose-weight-quick strategies, and struggled to love herself through the ups and downs.

After her husband stumbled across Nerd Fitness (smart fella), he told her to consider joining our community, and I’m so thankful she did!

Two years ago, we launched a beta version of our super fun 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program, and Christina was one of our guinea pigs that signed up!

In those two years, she has transformed inside and out, and I’m so excited to share her story today. In these two years, she has had this great level of success without access to a gym without crazy dietary restrictions or calorie starvation, and finally loves herself in the way she deserves to be loved!

Although I’m very proud of the fact that Christina has invested in herself through coaching program month after month, I know you’ll learn a lot from her story.

At the end, I’ll share with you EXACTLY how to make your changes today. No more negative self-talk, no more reliance on motivation or willpower, but a focus on systems and progress and accountability!

Let’s see how Christina transformed…

How Christina lost 50 pounds and finally started loving herself

Steve: Hey Christina! Can you take us through a typical day before you decided to level up your life?

Christina: This is embarrassing to admit, but here’s a typical day when my husband would travel for work, which was about 2 weeks of every month:

Wake up, drink coffee, eat some string cheese, check emails, eat more cheese, drink more coffee, check more emails, watch a show or two on streaming media, check more emails, eat more cheese, switch to Diet Coke, grab some Taco Bell, tutor kids for a few hours, grab a beer or two with friends, eat pizza or some kind of horrible take-out, watch more TV until midnight or so, then head to sleep.

Steve: Taco Bell, pizza, beers, cheese on cheese on cheese, tons of take-out…sounds like a typical diet for many people struggling to lose weight.

Was there a specific moment when you decided to make a change?

Christina: It was more of a bunch of small things:

My blood pressure was kind of high.

My cholesterol was creeping up.

I struggled with being out of breath with the simplest of tasks.

Walking anywhere in Boulder for long periods of time meant open-mouth breathing. So embarrassing 🙁

Oh, and learning to snowboard was nearly impossible. There were days we’d drive the two hours to the mountains, I’d go down the bunny hill once, and be done for the day – I didn’t have the physical or mental stamina to try again.

I’d then sit in the lodge and drown my sorrows in chocolate brownies while my husband would go down the blue and black runs by himself.

Super fun for both of us. /sarcasm

Steve: Blah, yeah that’s no fun. So, you eventually decided that “enough is enough,” and ended up on Nerd Fitness! Was this the first time you had ever tried getting in shape?

Christina: Definitely not. I’ve kind of lost count of how many times I flirted with weight loss and getting fit. These are just some of the strategies I remember:

#1 Massive body shaming from my mom – including gems like “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips” and “If you don’t lose weight before your wedding, you will always look back at your photos and feel terrible for how bad you look.”

#2 The single teacher income diet – I lost 50 lbs in six months only to gain it back when I could afford food again.

#3 Weight Watchers – I was used to body shaming from my mom, I figured, “Why not let strangers do it too?” Turns out this was less than ideal for my self esteem. I know WW works for some, but my particular experience wasn’t great.

#4 Various exercise VHS tapes from the 80s and 90s – My faves included Tony Little and It Figures with Charlene Prickett, because nothing motivates you like a built dude with a ponytail, or 80s leotards coupled with bad music!

#5 Beachbody shakes – I found the shakes to be excellent when mixed with a half pot of coffee, two tbsp of peanut butter, and a cup of half and half. No idea why I didn’t lose weight, hahaha.

#6 Cutting calories without tracking or learning – For some reason, I believed that even though I had no idea how much I was eating regularly, I could guess my way through calorie restriction. This did not work.

#7 Complaining – “Why am I so fat? Why can’t I lose weight? There must be something wrong with my metabolism. Why is exercise so difficult?”

#8 Wishing the fat away – “Maybe if I skip dinner I’ll lose a pound or two. Maybe if I skip dessert I will lose weight. If only a magical weight loss fairy existed…”

Steve: Thanks for sharing your struggles honestly with me (and now the world!). I’m curious: what made you decide to take the plunge and jump on board with Nerd Fitness and our coaching program?

Christina: Prior to NF Coaching, I mentioned to my husband I needed help.

After all of my failed attempts above, I knew I couldn’t do this on my own and wanted guidance.

I live in Colorado, land of the uber-fit, but I felt like none of the options available really meshed what I needed. I didn’t enjoy exercise and just couldn’t relate to fitness junkies.

The NF Coaching announcement came at a perfect time, and I was really pleased to see that the program wasn’t just personalized workouts, but also that my coach Jim would help me with my nutrition and mindset.

And you saw how I used to eat – I definitely needed help in that area!

Steve: Amen. We all know we need to exercise more and eat less, it’s actually DOING it consistently that’s challenging. So take me through your training schedule with Jim:

Christina: I told Jim about the equipment I had available (or lack thereof) and my goals, and my schedule, so he built a program that fit into that exact situation.

We did a lot of body weight to start with, no gym for me!

These days, I do a combination of bodyweight training (planks and wall sits), adjustable weights (overhead press, side rows), and anything Jim gives me that has to do with my pull-up bar and gymnastic rings (chin-ups, pull-ups, ring holds, etc.)

Steve: Let’s talk nutrition: What’s been your nutritional strategy?

Christina: Definitely more of an “if it fits your macros” (IIFYM) type of deal – I try to shoot for 130g of protein and under 80g for carbs and fat. I married an Italian who loves to cook; we quickly realized totally cutting pasta out of our lives wasn’t going to work.

So Jim helped me to be smarter about everything.

We time our big Italian meals on days we do a lot of physical activity, instead of every day which was always my problem in the past.

I also had to cut back my cheese addiction, which was super sad. It’s amazing how consuming 500+ calories of cheese a day can impact your diet. Again, who knew?

Steve: Yes! I too follow a “mental model” macros-type diet. What’s a typical day like for you NOW, after the changes?

Christina: SO Different!

Up between 5AM and 6AM, drink one cup of coffee with turmeric, cinnamon, and pepper, eat a small breakfast (normally an egg and some protein with one slice of really skinny bread).

I then do some work and housework, bodyweight training around 10am, drink a protein shake, drag husband out for a walk, then eat lunch around 12:30pm (lots of protein). We run our own company – a raw pet food company – and it keeps us both plenty busy

I then do more work, tutor in the afternoon, sometimes volunteer at a feral cat colony, and then dinner (protein and veggies), relax, and bed.

Much more structure in my life, and amazingly, I get things done. Who knew? 😉

Steve: What is your internal self talk like compared to 2 years ago?

Christina: There’s a lot less internal arguing about exercise or eating.

I’ll admit the first six months were miserable and really challenging. I cried my way through every workout – they were hard mentally, physically, and emotionally. This is what made it worse –  I would tell myself “I deserve to suffer, because I let myself go.”

I then realized that this self-talk was unproductive, and through conversations with Jim, my husband, and myself, I changed my attitude about the whole thing.

I realized that exercise is something I’m lucky to be able to do.

It’s something that feels good and makes me feel good. My husband knows when I haven’t exercised yet for the day because my mood is lousy!

Thanks to these two years, I can now snowboard, I can hike, I can walk through downtown Boulder without open-mouth breathing.

I can do things I want to do, even if they’re hard, without beating myself up.

Just last month, we hiked up Mt. Sanitas in the rain, soaked to the bone! This would have never happened before. 3.1 miles, 1300 feet of elevation gain, and *wet* – but I did it!

And enjoyed myself! It was pretty awesome. 🙂

Steve: What was the toughest or most important change you made?

Christina: After asking my husband for his opinion, apparently the toughest change was cutting back on cheese! And I quote, “You complained the *most* about that.”

That was done fairly early on, maybe six months into working with Jim, so it’s difficult for me to remember how tough that was. Apparently it had an impact on my husband, though! 😉

Steve: Talk to me about your progress along the way. How have you measured your progress and what has helped?  

Christina: I log all of my food daily and love the structure and awareness it brings to my life.

I can plan my day out based on what’s for dinner without feeling like I’m losing out on food. With food logging, it’s pretty easy to figure out what doesn’t agree with me, and I’ve gotten a lot better with portion control when it comes to items I want to taste but don’t want to gorge on (cake, gelato, etc.)

A bite or two of something is not going to ruin my day, but if I eat the whole thing, I know I’ll feel sick to my stomach and be useless the rest of the day.

As for tracking progress, I actually weigh myself daily. Weighing in used to be a source of shame; now it’s just a data point, and I can see how what I ate the day before affects me (I’m looking at you, salt).

I also take progress photos, track my body fat percentage, and track other measurements too.

Steve: Okay, so be honest: was NF Coaching worth the investment for you? Why stay 2 years even after having success early on? 

Christina: Simple. I’ve lost weight in the past, and I knew that it would just come right back if I didn’t really change my ways. In working with Jim, I lost 40 pounds fairly quickly once the diet changed and exercise was done on a fairly regular basis.

However, it was really important to me that the changes stuck.

Jim knows exactly how to push things and how to tweak behaviors in order to get results. He’s had great ideas around food, and his experience with a wide variety of people has given him some great insight into how people work.

I get exactly the level of support I need, and Jim can totally read between the lines of what I say and what I really mean. There’s always a goal in mind, and I work well with that type of motivation. These are our current goals:

Climb a 14er (mountain) – climbing a mountain of at least 14K feet with 3K feet of elevation gain

Do a planche

Do a handstand

Steve: LOVE IT. And you are working with the best coach ever when it comes to handstands – Jim wrote our Beginner’s Guide to Handstands, led our Handstand Course, AND has helped other clients get their first handstands too.

Steve: Do you have any nerdy passions or pursuits?

Christina: I cosplay, play the Dresden Files tabletop rpg with a group of friends across three time zones, read a lot of comic books, and play video games in a casual way.

Steve: Nerd credentials check out – you’re in the right place! 

I want to ask you one final question: There are TONS of Nerd Fitness readers right now who are at your “Day 1” (or heavier). Do you have any words of advice for those folks? 

Christina: Change is so personal. You need to look within yourself and ask if you’re happy with where you are physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Then you have to ask yourself if you’re okay with the way your life is currently “hard,” and if you’re willing to try a different kind of “hard” in order to get some different results.

My “hard” before was heavy breathing, the possibility of medication for various health issues, clothing not fitting correctly, feeling embarrassed going out in public, and not being able to participate in activities with my husband.

Now my “hard” is more saying no to free food because I KNOW it’s not really free, trying to get in one more rep with a little more weight, and coming to grips with what my body and can’t do, despite how much I exercise.

Steve: Thanks so much for sharing Christina! Jim shares your updates with our team and I feel like a proud parent (that’s not weird, right? cool) watching you continue to transform every month!

When we meet in person we can practice our handstands! I’ll make sure to bring Jim too.

The 6 Keys to Christina’s Fantastic Transformation

As I’ve been following Christina’s story over the past two years, I can think of six specific things she did differently than most people who struggle and never succeed:

#1 CHRISTINA KEPT TRYING AND FAILING DIFFERENTLY

Weight Watchers, Beachbody, calorie restriction, negative self talk, dieting…Christina tried it all. Most people struggle with weight loss and assume that they’re broken. Christina eventually realized that she just hadn’t found the path that worked for her yet.

So she kept searching.

When she started working with us at Nerd Fitness, she went the route that sounded the most exciting to her: hiking with her husband, snowboarding, bodyweight training, and no gym membership.

There’s no ONE way to get in shape, and Christina found the perfect plan for her – the one she would actually STICK with.

#2 CHRISTINA COMMITTED TO HERSELF & INVESTED IN HERSELF

She had tried to get in shape before. Many times.

And failed. Many times.

Most people blindly chase the next fad or making half-hearted attempts to get in shape. They also give up at the first sign of adversity and can’t get any changes to stick.

Even worse? Sticking with a “healthy” plan for months only to discover that it doesn’t actually generate results (I see you low fat food, starvation, running endlessly on a treadmill).

Christina recognized that years of these strategies hadn’t resulted in permanent progress, so a different approach was needed.

She knew she couldn’t do this alone, so she hired a coach who knows her better than she knows herself.

Through her ups and downs, highs and lows, successes and struggles, her coach is there to set the right pace for her at that point in her life. When life changes, so does her workout and nutrition programming.

Certain things are worth investing in, and Christina decided that she was worth it.

#3 CHRISTINA DIDN’T LET SPEEDBUMPS BECOME ROADBLOCKS

Along the way, Christina struggled: this getting in shape stuff isn’t easy! One missed workout becomes two, which becomes six months off in the blink of an eye.

But she relied on her husband, her coach, and her knowledge that her coach had set her up to succeed, and all she had to do was stick to the plan.

Even after Christina managed to successfully build powerful habits and momentum, she was diagnosed with some serious health challenges: severe osteoarthritis in her left hip and moderate to severe osteoarthritis in her right hip.

Most people understandably fall apart when hit with a setback like this. They say “oh what the hell.” If their bodies are failing them, might as well eat junk food and stop exercising because, “What’s the point?”

Christina went the other way.

She said, “I am not my x-ray.”

While her diagnosis has put a damper on running, lunges, and squats, she worked with a physical therapist, doctor, and her coach to come up with other options to keep her physically active.

Because of her attitude change, Christina was able to turn these mountains into molehills and step over them.

And now she’s focused on climbing ACTUAL mountains.

#4 CHRISTINA STOPPED WISHING AND STARTED DOING

Why do we beat ourselves up when we run out of willpower? Why do we get mad at ourselves for not being “motivated enough”? Why do we rely on hope and wishful thinking when it comes to getting healthy?

Because we think successful people have more of this stuff than we do, and that’s why they’ve lost weight.

We then lament the fact that we’re not like them and thus are doomed.

Reality paints a much different picture: people who have successfully lost weight and kept it off stopped chasing motivation. They recognized that willpower was limited and motivation would abandon them when life got tough. So instead, they stopped hoping and wishing and instead start building systems:

They have somebody they can be accountable to.

They study past failures and change their approach.

They get started and course correct along the way.

They structure their environment and day so that willpower isn’t needed.

This is exactly what Christina did. She stopped expecting things to be different and took the future into her own hands.

She knew she couldn’t do this alone, so she enlisted help, she got her husband’s support, and she GOT TO WORK.

#5 CHRISTINA TRACKED THE PROBLEM TO CRACK THE PROBLEM

Here’s my opinion as to why Christina succeeded: She started tracking her food daily. She could then share this food log with her coach who could make small changes and suggestions that didn’t overwhelm her.

Christina also weighed herself daily, not due to OCD neurosis, but instead as a scientist collecting data points and adjusting her progress!

She’s now educated with how many calories she can eat each day, the makeup of everything she eats, and she can make much more educated and informed decisions guilt free with each meal.

By tracking her food and her macros and analyzing her relationship with food, she can still eat home-cooked Italian food regularly without screwing up her nutrition goals. She MAKES through timing and tracking rather than hoping it works out.

In addition to these successes, through tracking she was able to discover two areas that were holding her back: she quit drinking and cut back significantly on high calorie cheese consumption.

These changes might not have happened had she not been tracking so diligently!

#6 CHRISTINA FINDS NEW DRAGONS TO SLAY

Her journey began with a weight loss goal: “I want to lose weight and feel better about myself.” And she lost 40 pounds very quickly on her journey.

This is where the big change happened:

Instead of saying “all done!” like se would have in the past, she instead worked with her coach to ask, “What am I capable of now that I’ve done all this hard work? Maybe I can work towards pull ups and get better at hiking!”

“Okay I got pull-ups, now what do I want to do?”

She and Jim consistently updated her goals and missions so she always had a new target. She wants to climb a mountain. She wants to do a handstand and a planche. And every day her workouts and her nutrition are set up in a way for her to get closer to those goals!

And if she ever reaches these goals? Perfect. She’ll get new ones!

There’s always another dragon to slay…

How will Your Next Attempt Be Different? Be like Christina!

Here’s how Christina transformed like Optimus Prime, and how you can too:

Keep at it. Christina didn’t find lasting success with Weight Watchers, Beachbody, or calorie restriction. Although those programs work for some people, they didn’t work for her. Nerd Fitness spoke her language, so she followed the process.

Track the problem, crack the problem. The most successful people that have lost weight and kept it off all track their progress and adherence in some way. Start by writing down what you eat for the next few days, calculate the calories, and educate yourself! See how your photos change, and make adjustments based on your data. Hope + action = win.

Invest in yourself, get help where you can. A lot of people think hiring a coach is a sign of weakness. Christina realized this is the wrong attitude, and has used her coach to change her life. Invest your time or your money into taking this fitness stuff seriously and get help or get educated. It’s your life we’re talking about here!

Always have another dragon to slay. Christina completely changed from “I want to lose some weight” to “What am I capable of? I want to do a handstand and climb a freakin mountain!” This is the key to sustained weight loss.

Train in the way that works for you. Christina does bodyweight exercises, hikes, and goes snowboarding with her husband. There’s no gym in sight! There are a million ways to get in shape, so pick the ones that fit your goals and make you happy!

This should get you started, regardless of whether or not you join any of the programs at Nerd Fitness!

You can start bodyweight training TODAY.

You can adjust your nutrition TODAY.

You can start to build your guild TODAY.

Now, if you’re somebody like Christina and seek 1-on-1 guidance and instruction, I’d love for you to check out our 1-on-1 NF Online Coaching Program and chat with us about it.

We schedule phone calls with everybody who wants to join the program to make sure we’re a good fit for each other – you can schedule your free call by clicking on the box below:

I want success for you the way that Christina found it – through healthier eating, a healthier mindset, and a complete overhaul of her attitude!

Two years seems like so far away, but think back to where you were 2 years ago – how much has changed since then? Look back at photos of you from two years ago. I bet TWO things are true:

“This feels like it was yesterday…”

“But I don’t really look much different.”

As they say, “The days are long, but the years are short.”

So why not start today? If you enjoy the journey, it makes the struggle worth it.

If you have questions for me or Christina, let us know in the comments!

Team NF is here to help you!

-Steve

PS: If coaching isn’t your thing, we also have a powerful online course that is self-paced and has helped 50,000 rebels level up their lives. 

The NF Academy has a 1-time payment, 7 levels of workouts, 10 levels of nutrition, boss battles, quests, and the most supportive community on the internet.

How Christina Lost 50 pounds, 31 Total Inches, and Did Her First Pull-up published first on https://www.nerdfitness.com

[neilmillerne]

How Christina Lost 50 pounds, 31 Total Inches, and Did Her First Pull-up

I love inspiring success stories.

I especially love sharing stories from real people with busy lives who have struggled in the same way most of us struggle:

Multiple failed attempts at weight loss.

Mental baggage and challenges to overcome.

Negative self talk.

Yo-yo dieting.

Christina, a years-long member of the Nerd Fitness community, is somebody who has gained and lost the same weight more times than she can count. She grew up with negative self-talk, chased lose-weight-quick strategies, and struggled to love herself through the ups and downs.

After her husband stumbled across Nerd Fitness (smart fella), he told her to consider joining our community, and I’m so thankful she did!

Two years ago, we launched a beta version of our super fun 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program, and Christina was one of our guinea pigs that signed up!

In those two years, she has transformed inside and out, and I’m so excited to share her story today. In these two years, she has had this great level of success without access to a gym without crazy dietary restrictions or calorie starvation, and finally loves herself in the way she deserves to be loved!

Although I’m very proud of the fact that Christina has invested in herself through coaching program month after month, I know you’ll learn a lot from her story.

At the end, I’ll share with you EXACTLY how to make your changes today. No more negative self-talk, no more reliance on motivation or willpower, but a focus on systems and progress and accountability!

Let’s see how Christina transformed…

How Christina lost 50 pounds and finally started loving herself

Steve: Hey Christina! Can you take us through a typical day before you decided to level up your life?

Christina: This is embarrassing to admit, but here’s a typical day when my husband would travel for work, which was about 2 weeks of every month:

Wake up, drink coffee, eat some string cheese, check emails, eat more cheese, drink more coffee, check more emails, watch a show or two on streaming media, check more emails, eat more cheese, switch to Diet Coke, grab some Taco Bell, tutor kids for a few hours, grab a beer or two with friends, eat pizza or some kind of horrible take-out, watch more TV until midnight or so, then head to sleep.

Steve: Taco Bell, pizza, beers, cheese on cheese on cheese, tons of take-out…sounds like a typical diet for many people struggling to lose weight.

Was there a specific moment when you decided to make a change?

Christina: It was more of a bunch of small things:

My blood pressure was kind of high.

My cholesterol was creeping up.

I struggled with being out of breath with the simplest of tasks.

Walking anywhere in Boulder for long periods of time meant open-mouth breathing. So embarrassing 🙁

Oh, and learning to snowboard was nearly impossible. There were days we’d drive the two hours to the mountains, I’d go down the bunny hill once, and be done for the day – I didn’t have the physical or mental stamina to try again.

I’d then sit in the lodge and drown my sorrows in chocolate brownies while my husband would go down the blue and black runs by himself.

Super fun for both of us. /sarcasm

Steve: Blah, yeah that’s no fun. So, you eventually decided that “enough is enough,” and ended up on Nerd Fitness! Was this the first time you had ever tried getting in shape?

Christina: Definitely not. I’ve kind of lost count of how many times I flirted with weight loss and getting fit. These are just some of the strategies I remember:

#1 Massive body shaming from my mom – including gems like “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips” and “If you don’t lose weight before your wedding, you will always look back at your photos and feel terrible for how bad you look.”

#2 The single teacher income diet – I lost 50 lbs in six months only to gain it back when I could afford food again.

#3 Weight Watchers – I was used to body shaming from my mom, I figured, “Why not let strangers do it too?” Turns out this was less than ideal for my self esteem. I know WW works for some, but my particular experience wasn’t great.

#4 Various exercise VHS tapes from the 80s and 90s – My faves included Tony Little and It Figures with Charlene Prickett, because nothing motivates you like a built dude with a ponytail, or 80s leotards coupled with bad music!

#5 Beachbody shakes – I found the shakes to be excellent when mixed with a half pot of coffee, two tbsp of peanut butter, and a cup of half and half. No idea why I didn’t lose weight, hahaha.

#6 Cutting calories without tracking or learning – For some reason, I believed that even though I had no idea how much I was eating regularly, I could guess my way through calorie restriction. This did not work.

#7 Complaining – “Why am I so fat? Why can’t I lose weight? There must be something wrong with my metabolism. Why is exercise so difficult?”

#8 Wishing the fat away – “Maybe if I skip dinner I’ll lose a pound or two. Maybe if I skip dessert I will lose weight. If only a magical weight loss fairy existed…”

Steve: Thanks for sharing your struggles honestly with me (and now the world!). I’m curious: what made you decide to take the plunge and jump on board with Nerd Fitness and our coaching program?

Christina: Prior to NF Coaching, I mentioned to my husband I needed help.

After all of my failed attempts above, I knew I couldn’t do this on my own and wanted guidance.

I live in Colorado, land of the uber-fit, but I felt like none of the options available really meshed what I needed. I didn’t enjoy exercise and just couldn’t relate to fitness junkies.

The NF Coaching announcement came at a perfect time, and I was really pleased to see that the program wasn’t just personalized workouts, but also that my coach Jim would help me with my nutrition and mindset.

And you saw how I used to eat – I definitely needed help in that area!

Steve: Amen. We all know we need to exercise more and eat less, it’s actually DOING it consistently that’s challenging. So take me through your training schedule with Jim:

Christina: I told Jim about the equipment I had available (or lack thereof) and my goals, and my schedule, so he built a program that fit into that exact situation.

We did a lot of body weight to start with, no gym for me!

These days, I do a combination of bodyweight training (planks and wall sits), adjustable weights (overhead press, side rows), and anything Jim gives me that has to do with my pull-up bar and gymnastic rings (chin-ups, pull-ups, ring holds, etc.)

Steve: Let’s talk nutrition: What’s been your nutritional strategy?

Christina: Definitely more of an “if it fits your macros” (IIFYM) type of deal – I try to shoot for 130g of protein and under 80g for carbs and fat. I married an Italian who loves to cook; we quickly realized totally cutting pasta out of our lives wasn’t going to work.

So Jim helped me to be smarter about everything.

We time our big Italian meals on days we do a lot of physical activity, instead of every day which was always my problem in the past.

I also had to cut back my cheese addiction, which was super sad. It’s amazing how consuming 500+ calories of cheese a day can impact your diet. Again, who knew?

Steve: Yes! I too follow a “mental model” macros-type diet. What’s a typical day like for you NOW, after the changes?

Christina: SO Different!

Up between 5AM and 6AM, drink one cup of coffee with turmeric, cinnamon, and pepper, eat a small breakfast (normally an egg and some protein with one slice of really skinny bread).

I then do some work and housework, bodyweight training around 10am, drink a protein shake, drag husband out for a walk, then eat lunch around 12:30pm (lots of protein). We run our own company – a raw pet food company – and it keeps us both plenty busy

I then do more work, tutor in the afternoon, sometimes volunteer at a feral cat colony, and then dinner (protein and veggies), relax, and bed.

Much more structure in my life, and amazingly, I get things done. Who knew? 😉

Steve: What is your internal self talk like compared to 2 years ago?

Christina: There’s a lot less internal arguing about exercise or eating.

I’ll admit the first six months were miserable and really challenging. I cried my way through every workout – they were hard mentally, physically, and emotionally. This is what made it worse –  I would tell myself “I deserve to suffer, because I let myself go.”

I then realized that this self-talk was unproductive, and through conversations with Jim, my husband, and myself, I changed my attitude about the whole thing.

I realized that exercise is something I’m lucky to be able to do.

It’s something that feels good and makes me feel good. My husband knows when I haven’t exercised yet for the day because my mood is lousy!

Thanks to these two years, I can now snowboard, I can hike, I can walk through downtown Boulder without open-mouth breathing.

I can do things I want to do, even if they’re hard, without beating myself up.

Just last month, we hiked up Mt. Sanitas in the rain, soaked to the bone! This would have never happened before. 3.1 miles, 1300 feet of elevation gain, and *wet* – but I did it!

And enjoyed myself! It was pretty awesome. 🙂

Steve: What was the toughest or most important change you made?

Christina: After asking my husband for his opinion, apparently the toughest change was cutting back on cheese! And I quote, “You complained the *most* about that.”

That was done fairly early on, maybe six months into working with Jim, so it’s difficult for me to remember how tough that was. Apparently it had an impact on my husband, though! 😉

Steve: Talk to me about your progress along the way. How have you measured your progress and what has helped?  

Christina: I log all of my food daily and love the structure and awareness it brings to my life.

I can plan my day out based on what’s for dinner without feeling like I’m losing out on food. With food logging, it’s pretty easy to figure out what doesn’t agree with me, and I’ve gotten a lot better with portion control when it comes to items I want to taste but don’t want to gorge on (cake, gelato, etc.)

A bite or two of something is not going to ruin my day, but if I eat the whole thing, I know I’ll feel sick to my stomach and be useless the rest of the day.

As for tracking progress, I actually weigh myself daily. Weighing in used to be a source of shame; now it’s just a data point, and I can see how what I ate the day before affects me (I’m looking at you, salt).

I also take progress photos, track my body fat percentage, and track other measurements too.

Steve: Okay, so be honest: was NF Coaching worth the investment for you? Why stay 2 years even after having success early on? 

Christina: Simple. I’ve lost weight in the past, and I knew that it would just come right back if I didn’t really change my ways. In working with Jim, I lost 40 pounds fairly quickly once the diet changed and exercise was done on a fairly regular basis.

However, it was really important to me that the changes stuck.

Jim knows exactly how to push things and how to tweak behaviors in order to get results. He’s had great ideas around food, and his experience with a wide variety of people has given him some great insight into how people work.

I get exactly the level of support I need, and Jim can totally read between the lines of what I say and what I really mean. There’s always a goal in mind, and I work well with that type of motivation. These are our current goals:

Climb a 14er (mountain) – climbing a mountain of at least 14K feet with 3K feet of elevation gain

Do a planche

Do a handstand

Steve: LOVE IT. And you are working with the best coach ever when it comes to handstands – Jim wrote our Beginner’s Guide to Handstands, led our Handstand Course, AND has helped other clients get their first handstands too.

Steve: Do you have any nerdy passions or pursuits?

Christina: I cosplay, play the Dresden Files tabletop rpg with a group of friends across three time zones, read a lot of comic books, and play video games in a casual way.

Steve: Nerd credentials check out – you’re in the right place! 

I want to ask you one final question: There are TONS of Nerd Fitness readers right now who are at your “Day 1” (or heavier). Do you have any words of advice for those folks? 

Christina: Change is so personal. You need to look within yourself and ask if you’re happy with where you are physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Then you have to ask yourself if you’re okay with the way your life is currently “hard,” and if you’re willing to try a different kind of “hard” in order to get some different results.

My “hard” before was heavy breathing, the possibility of medication for various health issues, clothing not fitting correctly, feeling embarrassed going out in public, and not being able to participate in activities with my husband.

Now my “hard” is more saying no to free food because I KNOW it’s not really free, trying to get in one more rep with a little more weight, and coming to grips with what my body and can’t do, despite how much I exercise.

Steve: Thanks so much for sharing Christina! Jim shares your updates with our team and I feel like a proud parent (that’s not weird, right? cool) watching you continue to transform every month!

When we meet in person we can practice our handstands! I’ll make sure to bring Jim too.

The 6 Keys to Christina’s Fantastic Transformation

As I’ve been following Christina’s story over the past two years, I can think of six specific things she did differently than most people who struggle and never succeed:

#1 CHRISTINA KEPT TRYING AND FAILING DIFFERENTLY

Weight Watchers, Beachbody, calorie restriction, negative self talk, dieting…Christina tried it all. Most people struggle with weight loss and assume that they’re broken. Christina eventually realized that she just hadn’t found the path that worked for her yet.

So she kept searching.

When she started working with us at Nerd Fitness, she went the route that sounded the most exciting to her: hiking with her husband, snowboarding, bodyweight training, and no gym membership.

There’s no ONE way to get in shape, and Christina found the perfect plan for her – the one she would actually STICK with.

#2 CHRISTINA COMMITTED TO HERSELF & INVESTED IN HERSELF

She had tried to get in shape before. Many times.

And failed. Many times.

Most people blindly chase the next fad or making half-hearted attempts to get in shape. They also give up at the first sign of adversity and can’t get any changes to stick.

Even worse? Sticking with a “healthy” plan for months only to discover that it doesn’t actually generate results (I see you low fat food, starvation, running endlessly on a treadmill).

Christina recognized that years of these strategies hadn’t resulted in permanent progress, so a different approach was needed.

She knew she couldn’t do this alone, so she hired a coach who knows her better than she knows herself.

Through her ups and downs, highs and lows, successes and struggles, her coach is there to set the right pace for her at that point in her life. When life changes, so does her workout and nutrition programming.

Certain things are worth investing in, and Christina decided that she was worth it.

#3 CHRISTINA DIDN’T LET SPEEDBUMPS BECOME ROADBLOCKS

Along the way, Christina struggled: this getting in shape stuff isn’t easy! One missed workout becomes two, which becomes six months off in the blink of an eye.

But she relied on her husband, her coach, and her knowledge that her coach had set her up to succeed, and all she had to do was stick to the plan.

Even after Christina managed to successfully build powerful habits and momentum, she was diagnosed with some serious health challenges: severe osteoarthritis in her left hip and moderate to severe osteoarthritis in her right hip.

Most people understandably fall apart when hit with a setback like this. They say “oh what the hell.” If their bodies are failing them, might as well eat junk food and stop exercising because, “What’s the point?”

Christina went the other way.

She said, “I am not my x-ray.”

While her diagnosis has put a damper on running, lunges, and squats, she worked with a physical therapist, doctor, and her coach to come up with other options to keep her physically active.

Because of her attitude change, Christina was able to turn these mountains into molehills and step over them.

And now she’s focused on climbing ACTUAL mountains.

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