#but can I actually play it without soiling my garments

[ozzgin]

Does anyone else struggle with the ever-frustrating combo of loving the horror genre but being too anxious to actually play horror games? It's not even fear per se, I can sit back and watch someone else without issue; yet, if I have to actively do it myself, I get stressed tf out. I cannot perform under pressure. I cannot be perceived. I want to enjoy the terrors from an uninvolved distance.

[tory-ben-hi-shelton]

my favourite quotes from code

"Okay, pal." Ben gripped our captive at both ends. "Count your blessings that my friend here is a total softy."

It'd been nice fishing alone with Ben. The two of us didn't spend much one-on-one time together, and he often went mute when Hi and Shelton were around. Probably because those two never let anyone get a word in edgewise.

"Don't be such a baby." I teased. "They're practically lap dogs."

"Lap dogs won't rip your face off. Or eat you."

"All in all," Shelton said, "this is a tremendously dumb game."

"You're a dumb game." Hi shot back.

More dramatic moans, but the boys stopped what they were doing.

"Fine." Hi.

"Whatever." Shelton.

"One time." Ben held up a single finger. "One."

"This game is popular?" Ben was sitting on his tackle box in the shade of a large Elm. "Sounds pretty nerdtastic to me."

"We can't all practice birdcalls like you."

"Honey, in my day a young lady didn't speak to her elders like that. We were taught manners." I was about to further reduce her opinion of my upbringing when the shade to Kit's office rose.

Kit once said I terrify him. He meant it in a good way. I think. Pretty sure.

"Tory!" Whitney squealed. "He's going to attack!"

"Maybe." I walked into the kitchen and snagged a diet coke from the fridge. "Try to protect your throat."

"Tory!!!"

"Later." Jason tossed a head nod to Hi and Shelton as he passed them. The Two Stooges clumsily returned the gesture.

Shelton drifted back to my side wearing a sly grin. "That was smooth, player."

"Shut it."

"I know." I signed, turned. Ben often knew what I was thinking.

Shelton rapped a short sting of characters just above the signature: Hemxvivobz

"That's useful." Hi said. "Sounds like a sex position."

"Like everything you do is cool," Hi snorted. "Still have that ninja costume you wore to my twelfth birthday party?"

"Ben, that's brilliant."

Suddenly, the boy was all blushes.

"No big deal. Easy, really."

"We have got to work on our decision making process." Shelton was shaking his head. "Right now we just follow Tory over every cliff."

"Oh, boohoo." I mocked. "Get moving."

Already handsome, flaring took his attractiveness to a whole new level. His coppery skin practically glowed in the evening light. I turned quickly, surprised by the colour rising to my cheeks.

Ben took a breathe, seemed to realize how hard he was clutching me. His hand dropped as if burned.

"Come on Shel-Dogg," Hi stuck out a fist. "After everything we've done, the dark shouldn't scare you anymore."

"And yet, it does." A moment passed, then Shelton reluctantly bumped Hi's fist.

Terrified, I lunged towards my wolf dog. An arm circled my wait and dragged me to the ground.

"Just follow my lead." Code for: I have no idea.

"Very nice," I said. "I wasn't aware break dancing was back in style."

"Now you are." Hi popped open a bag of Bugles. "I also do a killer mime."

Ben smiled for the first time all afternoon. It was nice to see. When he deigned to flash his pearly whites, Ben went from sullen boy to charming young man. I much preferred the latter.

"What happened?"

"A crazy female line backer pummeled my chest." Hi grumbled. "She's still pinning me to the ground. And she isn't as light as she might think."

Their Cinderella run had made Shelton and Hi popular with the older kids. The two were joking and talking trash, seemingly holding their own. For some reason, this made me proud. What an odd thought.

Without thinking, I launched myself at Ben, catching him off guard. The weight of my body knocked him over backward. Never hesitating, I jumped on his chest and started slapping his face.

Ben was slouched in the copilots chair, too dizzy to stand.

"He's no good for you," Ben said abruptly. "Doesn't deserve you."

"Just be quiet." Soft. "We're almost home."

Ben's eyes were slits. "That guy, he's..." His hand rose, fell. "Dime a dozen. Doesn't know anything. About you. The real you."

Mercifully, Ben trailed off. In moments, he was snoring.

Hi and I headed for the lot. I hoped Wimpy and Vomitasaurus and gotten their acts together.

"Off-limits." Shelton muttered. I chose not to hear.

"I could kiss you, Tory."

"Some other time."

"Choir practice?" Ben rolled his eyes. "Perhaps your worst cover story ever."

Hi grabbed Shelton by the cheeks. "You, sir, are a genius." He leaned forward to kiss eachother one.

"I try." Shelton flailed as Hi his first sloppy smacker. "Man, get off me!"

"Problem? Why?"

Hi looked at me strangely. "We're a little busy Friday night."

"Busy? Doing what?"

The boys exchanged a look. Hi snorted.

"I don't know about you," Shelton said, "but I'm escorting my friend Victoria to her debutante ball."

"Fine! I won't go anywhere else alone. Ever again. Scouts honour."

"You're not a scout," Hi pointed out. "No loopholes, Miss Brennan."

I nearly ground my teeth. "On my honour as a lady, Hiram."

"Excellent! I accept."

Hi lifted the heavy cream envelope penned with my name. "What's this?"

"Oh, that." Could anything matter less right now? "You guys are gonna love it."

I passed along our invitation to the Claybourne Manor. Their groans drew every eye in the room.

"Ben, stop the boat."

He looked at me funny. "We're in the middle of the ocean, Victoria."

"Jason's my friend," I said quietly, "but he's not a Viral. He's not part of my pack. He'll never mean as much to me as you do."

Ben's eyes snapped to meet mine. He stared at me intently. I felt my cheeks burn.

"And Hi and Shelton, of course." I added quickly.

"Of course."

"We're always one step behind. Running straight into whatever direction the Gamemaster points. He's owning us right now. Scripting our every freaking move!"

Abruptly Ben was beside me, his hand finding mine. "Later, Tor."

Voices intruded from far away.

"Oh man, she really did it this time!"

"Should we call a nurse?" Panicky. "An ambulance?"

"And say what, exactly?" hissed a third. "That our friend passed out after some bad telepathy?"

I considered running away. Joining a travelling circus. I had a savings account, and a tiny trust fund courtesy of Aunt Tempe. I could probably get as far as Singapore before anyone noticed. I'm very resourceful.

Hi, naturally, had opted for flair. His tux was crushed purple velvet with tails, accented by all white silk—tie, vest, gloves and suspenders. He completed the outfit with a freaking top hat and cane. Whitney had nearly fainted on seeing him.

Ben lurched forward to catch my elbow. "Jason will escort her."

Unable to speak, I thanked him with my eyes. "You'll do great," Ben whispered, patting my hand. "Just picture them all in their underwear." I gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

"Don't choke, Boat Girl."

I almost laughed. "Step off, bitch."

"Oh, we're, um playing a pretty serious game of Dungeons and Dragons," Hi stammered. "I'm, like, the head ... unicorn master, and Tory has to find my magic... beans. Seeds."

Hi cracked the door. "Ladies first."

"Why, thank you, sir."

For the hell of it, I dropped into another formal curtesy. The boys snickered. Then, straightening their soiled garments as best they could, gave me a polite round of applause.

"You okay, Tor?" Shelton had a sandbag on one shoulder, hauled up from the beach. "We don't have time for an ER run."

"We could amputate," Hi suggested. "Shelton, get the whiskey."

"Comedians, both of you."

"I dreamed it."

"Aha! You dreamed it." Hi yawned and rubbed both his eyes. "I think it's time we get you medicated."

"Good thing we're Virals," Ben said.

Our eyes met. He actually smiled.

"I'm with Tory," Ben said firmly. "To the end."

"Thank you." I felt a rush of affection. When it really matters, I can always count on Ben.

I stared at Ben, aghast, incapable of speech. My friend. My confidant. Trusted above all others on earth.

[scariusaquarius]

for the week 3

Geralt of Rivia x Female! Reader

---

A/n: I was very shy about posting this story and tagging people, but i’m very happy that i reached out. I truly don’t want this story to flop. Also, sorry that it’s so slow! I promise more action in the next chapter! Please excuse grammar/spelling mistakes. I don’t beta and don’t have someone to beta so pls be merciful.

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three (Here) | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six (Soon)

—

Genre: Romance, Horror, Friendship, Family, Erotica Rated: Explicit Warning: Eventual Erotica, Swearing, Slight Slowburn (like if you squint), Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Gore, Blood and Gore, Graphic Depictions of Blood, Graphic Depictions of Gore, Graphic Depictions of Menstruation, Period Sex

—

Author: scariusaquarius

—

When you had gotten the woman dried off and into a room, the Witcher and Johanna had accompanied you to help you with the hysterical woman. The woman was shaking as she drank hot tea Johanna had brewed for her, the tears that had been running down her face drying slowly.

She hadn’t spoken since she had come into the inn screaming, and Johanna had revealed that the woman was a wife of one of the sailors. Her clothes were still dripping wet and muddy, but you weren’t worried about the mud the woman had tracked through the inn.

You were more worried about the fact the woman was certain her husband had been murdered.

“Wait, run that by me again?”

The woman gave you an incredulous look, shaking her head a bit.

“Have ya not been listenin’? I walked into my home, and my husband lied dead!”

The Witcher said, giving the woman a skeptical look.

“Just because he was dead doesn’t mean it was murder or a monster. Could have had a heart attack in his sleep.”

The woman became angry, tears coming into her eyes.

“You fools! If you could have seen him…he had the face of someone who died terrified!”

The man sighed before asking.

“Can I get a look at the body? If I examine it, I’ll be able to give a cause of death and determine if there was any foul play.”

The woman was reluctant, and you nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea to me, Heralda. Witchers have much better senses than we do. If someone actually killed Yoseph, then the Witcher will be able to tell.”

The Witcher gave you a nod before looking back at Heralda, and she bit her lip before looking at Johanna. Johanna nodded as well.

“I agree. I’ve not seen the work of a Witcher, but my father has, and he’s always had high praises. If there’s foul play, the Witcher will know.”

Heralda sighed before nodding, running a hand down her tired face.

“Oh gods, what am I gonna do? Without my husband, I’m nothin’!”

Johanna rolled her eyes inconspicuously before saying.

“That ain’t true and we all know it. Yer just as capable as yer husband was.”

The woman nodded after a moment before asking softly.

“I…can I be alone for a moment?”

You ushered everyone out before turning to the Witcher.

“Witcher, you’re gonna do something about this, right?”

The Witcher nodded before saying.

“I’ll have to know where she lives and examine the body as soon as I can, but I’ll try my best. If it was done by a human, then there won’t be much that I’ll be able to do.”

You nodded before the Witcher piped up after a pregnant pause.

“My name is Geralt, by the way.”

You gave the man a look before nodding to him.

“Well, Geralt, it’s nice to meet you. You’ve heard my name already, so I assume you don’t need me to tell you it.”

Geralt gave you a nod before saying.

“I’m gonna go try to find out what happened to the husband. If you need anything, come get me.”

You waved him off before both you and Johanna froze as an angry voice rang through the whole inn.

“What the hell is all over my floor!”

You hissed to Johanna, Geralt giving the two of you strange looks as you threw a mop at Johanna.

“Clean the hallway up! I’ll deal with her!”

“Fuck, fuck, what the hell are we gonna tell her?”

You gave a quick shrug before running down the stairs to greet the owner of the angry voice and the inn itself. However, when you got to the bottom of the stairs, you could feel your undergarments becoming uncomfortable and wet, signaling that you had begun to bleed through your clothes.

Cursing to yourself, you began to panic before forcefully calming down and squeezing your legs shut tightly as inconspicuously as possible before facing your superior with an emotionless look as the woman glared hotly at you.

Julianna Westenra was a force to be reckoned with. She was every bit of authority and beauty, with curling chestnut-colored hair that ran down to her waist and beautiful pale skin.

Her eyes were thin and almond-shaped, colored a slightly darker brown than her hair, and were always ringed in black eyeliner. Gold adorned Julianna’s pale wrists and neck, ears sporting precious gems that only those of the highest nobility or royalty could ever afford.

Her nose was medium sized and pointed, making Julianna look as though she was peering down at anybody with a sneer at all times. As you greeted her, she waved her hand around the floor, her foreign accent showing with her anger as Julianna gestured to the ground.

“What the hell happened to my inn, (Y/n)? You were supposed to watch over it and keep it clean while doing so! We are an inn, not a pig farm!”

When Geralt came down the stairs, her eyes zeroed in on the Witcher, and she pointed at him, hissing.

“What the fuck are you doing in my inn, Witcher? Nonhumans are unwelcome here!”

Johanna came down next, and Julianna gestured to the floor again.

“Do you two not know how to run an inn? Look at this place! It’s a damn mess!”

Johanna side-eyed you and Geralt before speaking up.

“My apologies, Ms. Westrena. (Y/n) told me to clean up, but I got distracted. I let the Witcher in while (Y/n) was out back.”

Your heart dropped deep into your stomach as Johanna took the fall for you, and Julianna glared hotly at Johanna. Geralt raised his hand in surrender.

“Don’t mean to cause trouble. In fact, I was just leaving. On a contract and needed information.”

“Fuck your information. Get the fuck out.”

You were honestly surprised at how hostile Julianna was towards the Witcher, but you could not say anything in fear of Julianna turning her wrath on you. When Geralt left, he gave you a strange look over his shoulder, and you knew that it would not be the last time you would hear from him.

Julianna placed her hands on her hips, giving you a dark look, and you straitened your back, keeping your legs pressed together to keep from bleeding through your garments more. She stared for a moment, nostrils flaring before she closed her eyes and waved you off.

“Out of my face, (Y/n). Johanna, get this place cleaned up!”

Johanna nodded furiously, and with a breath of relief, you ran up the stairs. As fast as you could, you undressed and got yourself cleaned up, giving a sad look at your undergarments that were soiled with blood.

“These were so damn nice…dammit.”

Sighing, you tried to wash your clothes while in the bath as best as you could, getting a fresh pair of undergarments and rags to use before drying off and slipping on your clothes.

When you were completely dressed and dry, you emptied the water basin and sat on your bed, sighing as the stress of the night caught up to you. A headache began to plague your brain, and you groaned before a knock on your door came about.

“Come in.”

Julianna strolled in, and you straightened up in surprise.

“(Y/n), when I gave you this job, I did it because I trusted that you knew what you were doing and could handle it. Allowing for my inn to look disgusting is unacceptable, and if it happens again, I will not hesitate to find someone who can do the job.”

“My apologies-“

Julianna held her hand up, giving you a look.

“I am not finished. I’m also upset about that Witcher being here. Whether he was here on a job or not, he should have never stepped foot into the inn! I would have thought that you would have taught that to Johanna.”

“With all due respect, you never said shit about nonhumans being unwelcome. Now I know, and now Johanna knows. We’ll do better next time.”

Julianna scoffed before saying.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[CHAPTER FOUR]

Comments/Ideas/Suggestions are highly appreciated and encouraged.

For the Week Taglist: @seb-owns-these-tatas​​​ @mariannetora​​​ @mishafaye @carrieannewaywaywardson (won’t let me tag you two) @littlefreya​​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​​

[muertawrites]

Staying Dry (Loki x Reader)[nsfw]

Summary: Thor convinces you to go on a double date with him and Valkyrie, on which he has intended Loki to be your escort for the night. He walks you home in the rain, and after you change out of your wet clothes, things get a little spicy. 

Word Count: 2,600

Author’s Note: Thor and Valkyrie have a (super adorable) thing, and I wholeheartedly believe that Val is bisexual and that the blonde warrior we see dying in front of her in Ragnarok is her lover, don’t @ me. Also dry humping is way underrated. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. 

                                              ~ Muerta 🌸💀🌸

“Let me walk you home.”

You had immediately turned down Loki’s offer, telling him that you’d be fine walking the sixteen blocks from the restaurant you’d dined at in Midtown back to your apartment, stating that Manhattan was far from being as dangerous as many would think, and that the daunting black clouds hovering menacingly overhead, promising a downpour, didn’t scare you. The god was persistent, however, and after he insisted for the seventh time, you allowed him to be the chivalrous man he (quite uncharacteristically) wanted to be.

Thor had approached you a few days prior about going to dinner with him and Valkyrie, and you’d laughed.

“I don’t think Val is the dating type,” you’d said, paling when you saw the hurt in Thor’s eyes, making him look like a wounded, oversized puppy.

“Plus, I don’t have anyone to invite,” you added.

“Don’t worry about that,” Thor assured you. “I’ve invited Loki.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Loki,” you responded flatly. “Your brother. Mr. Tall Dark and Emo who likes to play with knives and fake his own death when he feels ignored. That Loki.”

Thor nodded, smiling.

“Yes!” he said. “He’s taken a liking to you since we came back to Earth. Barely ever stops talking about you.”

You reached out and lay a hand on Thor’s arm, gently and sympathetically rubbing his meaty bicep.

“Oh, Thor, you’re so sweet,” you cooed, “but my friendship with Loki isn’t like that. We like each other and that’s it. Nothing else.”

“Please, Lady Y/N, just come with us for the evening,” Thor begged. “Valkyrie would not have agreed if I hadn’t told her you were coming. At the very least you will have Loki to pass the time with.”

You sighed, letting your hand fall to your side.

“… Fine,” you surrendered. “But I get to pick the restaurant. If you want Val to agree to a second date you’re going to have to impress her.”

So, later that week, you and Valkyrie met the brothers at your favorite bistro for a nice dinner, Valkyrie looking much more comfortable and excited than she’d originally let on about the date, and yourself wondering how many strong drinks you’d have to have for the evening to be bearable without getting totally wasted (Valkyrie advised that two would probably do it). You’d sat across from Loki, sipping on something sweet and heavy with whiskey and bantering with him, kicking Thor underneath the table whenever he got too excited with Val. At the end of the night, Thor and Valkyrie had stumbled into a taxi, saying something about going to scour the city for possible crimes to prevent, Batman and Robin style, and leaving you and Loki standing on the curb outside the restaurant in awkward silence.

Thunder rumbled above the skyscrapers as you walked in stride with Loki, tucking your hair behind your ear as you searched for something to say. Loki shoved his hands into the pockets of his black suit pants, his shoulder bumping against yours with each of his steps.

“Do you think she’s taken a fancy to him?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Who, Val?” you replied. “Of course she has. He’ll just have to force her to admit it.”

Loki chuckled.

“Stubborn women, the both of you,” he stated. “I suppose I cannot blame her, however. I have seen her memories of her first fight against Hela. She lost a great love in that battle that she has never quite recovered from.”

You hummed, your tone dropping.

“She’s told me about her,” you said. “Helene was her name. She told me she’s missed her since the day she died. That she sometimes wishes she could have died too.”

Loki nodded, his expression betraying a rare moment of empathy.

“Love makes us think and feel unimaginable things,” he mused. “But she cares for Thor. I believe they will be happy together, one way or another.”

“I hope so,” you replied. “I really don’t want to have to suffer through another double date.”

Loki smirked.

“Was I not entertaining enough company for you, my darling?” he teased, nudging you playfully with his elbow. You smiled, leaning to the side and nudging him back.

“You absolutely bore me to tears,” you joked. “But no, I actually just hate going on dates. It’s exhausting, and I never really meet anyone I like when I get set up like this.”

“Do you not like me?”

Loki’s question threw you completely off guard. Of course you liked him – he was one of the few people you knew you could speak effortlessly to, who you could spend hours with without getting deeply annoyed by or tired of him. You loved the long chats you two often had about everything, nothing, and all the things in between, and how you never truly felt you had to try to impress him. The thing you liked most of all, however, was that Loki never seemed to put up a front with you like he did with most other people. He was always genuine, and you knew that for him, authenticity was rare, so you deeply valued your relationship with him. You liked him so much, in fact, you were willing to admit you loved him.

Shit. Maybe Thor was right.

“Loki, how could you even ask that?” you replied, still visibly flustered. “Of course I like yo-”

Your words were cut short by an onslaught of rain, spilling from the sky without warning or hesitation, causing your makeup to run down your face and your hair and dress to cling to your cheeks and body. You blinked, staring up at Loki with a bewildered expression. He laughed, reaching out and brushing some of the hair plastered to your skin behind your ear.

“Let’s get you home,” he chuckled.

Loki hailed a cab, and within ten minutes, you were climbing the stairs to your apartment, water sloshing in your shoes and shoulders heaving with cold. The usually stoic frost giant was shivering himself, and you forced him inside when he insisted that he would be fine making his way back to Avengers Tower in the pouring rain.

“You’re soaked,” you told him.

“I’ll magic myself dry,” he countered.

“You’ll just get wet again,” you replied. He quirked his brow at you.

“Please, just come in,” you sighed. “It’s only going to get worse out there and I don’t want you getting sick or something.”

“You do know that my immune system is much stronger than yours, little mortal?” Loki drawled teasingly as he sauntered into your apartment. You rolled your eyes as you locked the door behind you, going to your bedroom and fetching him a clean towel and a set of dry clothes, tossing them unceremoniously into his face.

“Change before I throw you back out into the street via the fire escape,” you hissed, causing him to chuckle as he began to disrobe. You blushed, turning back into your bedroom and shutting the door tightly behind you, hoping he hadn’t seen your embarrassment.

You shed your dripping clothes and exchanged them for a pair of sweatpants and a loose, baggy t-shirt, gathering up the soiled garments and tossing them into the dryer in the hallway. You then made your way back out to Loki, who was lounging comfortably on your couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table as he flipped through one of your fashion magazines. His suit was folded neatly on the kitchen counter behind him.

“I never pegged you as the type to read these frivolous things,” he commented, tossing the magazine away and looking up at you. You shrugged, smirking a little.

“I’m a multifaceted girl,” you responded. Loki smirked back at you before standing, crossing to where you stood.

“What should I do with those?” he asked, nodding his head to his folded suit.

“Put them in the dryer,” you said. “You can hang out until they’re finished.”

Loki nodded, taking his clothes and disappearing down the hall. You flopped onto your couch as the sound of the dryer door slamming shut, then the machine roaring to life echoed through your living room, humming when Loki lowered himself beside you and lay a hand on your leg, giving it a gentle rub over the thick fabric of your sweatpants.

“I wonder what they’re doing out there,” he pondered. You smiled, shaking your head.

“If I know Valkyrie, the answer could be anything,” you mused. Loki chuckled.

“Perhaps the weather is Thor’s doing,” he suggested. “It would not be beyond him to try to make the setting more romantic.”

You scrunched up your nose a little.

“Val doesn’t really do romantic,” you replied. “And even if she did, I don’t think she’d find the rain very appealing. Maybe only as an excuse to get the other person out of their clothes.”

“Like how you’ve gotten me out of mine?”

You glanced over at Loki, your cheeks getting rosy as you met his mischievous glare. There was more than the mirth he was known for in his eyes this time, though; a sweet, almost sensual darkness you could only identify as lust. You swallowed, returning his playful smirk and sitting up a bit so that you were closer to him, your faces only inches apart.

“You were the one who was so eager to get me home,” you teased, your words coming out as a whisper into his ear. He chuckled, leaning forward to tug gently on your earlobe with his teeth.

“Indeed, I was,” Loki purred. “Now I have you right where I want you…”

He made quick work of wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap, positioning your legs so that you were straddling him. One of his hands traveled up your back and into your hair, his eyes gazing longingly into yours before taking you into a surprisingly gentle kiss, his lips kneading against yours tenderly as his other hand gripped at your side. Although you felt it should have, the kiss didn’t cause you to falter, your body seeming to react of its own accord as your hands found their way to the sides of his neck, thumbs stroking the sharp curves of his jaw as the kiss deepened until your tongues were knotted together. Loki hummed into your mouth, the hand on your hip moving to snake around your waist once again, pulling you closer to him so that he could feel the swell of your breasts pressed up against his solid chest. The lack of space between you was intoxicating, and you began to feel yourself become dizzy with something that wasn’t alcohol.

Slowly, you began to work your hips against him, rolling them every so often and causing Loki to let out little groans of pleasure, his fingers tugging gently on your hair. With each pull you moved faster, until the lump you’d felt forming under your heat – your sexes separated by the fabric between you – was now rock hard and impressive in length. Loki’s erect cock was pressed against the lips of your pussy through your sweatpants, and you didn’t want to waste any time removing the offending garments in your need for him. You began to work yourself harder, huffing out soft, breathy moans as you anchored yourself by gripping the back of your couch, your forehead pressed against Loki’s as you mimicked riding him. He stared up at you through lidded eyes, his hips now starting to meet yours as his large, able hands rested at your hips, securing your bodies together as he moved in perfect rhythm with you, pressing himself into your clit with each roll of his hips and causing your moans to get louder. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at your skin until he left throbbing pink marks in it, the couch creaking under your ministrations as you could feel yourself getting closer to orgasm.

You were properly moaning now, as if Loki were truly fucking you instead of just grinding his cock against you, and you took hold of his hair, pulling his head back so that you could capture his lips in another heated kiss. He didn’t fight you, his tongue slipping easily between your teeth as you rocked yourself fiercely against him, feeling a wonderful, delicious knot begin to tighten in your abdomen as you continued to work yourself on his shaft. You rolled your hips once, twice, three times, and on the third press of his diamond hard cock against your clit, you felt the knot completely unravel, a wave of ecstasy ripping through your torso and limbs and causing them to shake involuntarily as a loud, pleasured moan escaped your lips, leaving you in perfect bliss. Your body went limp as Loki took total control then, his sturdy arms trapping you crushingly close to him as he worked himself to his own orgasm, his voice whiney and vulnerable as he cried out your name. You smirked, pressing your lips to his collar bone and taking a loving nibble at his skin.

“Did I just make you cum in your pants?” you lilted, reaching down to palm at his softening member through the fabric of his borrowed sweatpants.

“Shut up,” Loki growled, silencing you with another kiss that you smiled into, your hands reaching up to cup his face as he leaned you back onto the couch, towering over you as he began to kiss down your neck once more. “You’ll pay for your naughty ways, little minx…”

Within moments, you and Loki had stripped each other of your clothes, and you would be damned if your neighbors didn’t know his name by the time the sun rose the next morning.

  When you saw Thor at the Tower on Monday morning, you greeted him with a large, steaming cup of strong coffee and a pair of Louis Vuitton suitcases under your eyes. You smiled brightly at him, lightly punching him on the shoulder.

“Hey, killer,” you sang. “I heard you spent the weekend with Val.”

Thor chuckled, looking down to hide the blush creeping across his face.

“Yes, we had a wonderful time together,” he confirmed. “I would like to thank you for accompanying us the other evening. I doubt it would have turned out so well without your help as my… what do you call it? ‘Wing man’.”

You laughed, your smile brighter than Thor had ever seen it.

“What can I say, I ship it,” you said, earning a confused look from the god. You smirked as you took a sip from your mug.

“I noticed that Loki did not return to the Tower until this morning,” Thor commented, causing you to choke on your beverage enough to almost drown you. Almost.

“O-oh?” you stumbled, wondering how anyone had been aware of you arriving together when you’d both been so careful. You looked up at Thor, and the way he was grinning at you, you knew you’d been caught.

“Yes, and he was wearing the same suit he had on the other evening,” Thor continued, his grin spreading so that it reached both of his ears. “I suppose the rain we’ve had these past few days had him stranded somewhere...”

You gazed up at him, incredulous, your mouth hanging open over your coffee as the dots suddenly connected, leaving you close to speechless.

“Thor, you didn’t…”

The god chuckled, giving you a heavy pat on your shoulder.

“What can I say?” he echoed. “I ship it.”

{poppin’ tags: @fairlightswiftly}

[believerindaydreams]

not where I thought this fic was going.

...fluff. I’m writing Angel Eyes/Tuco fluff. 

*shrugs*

They don’t sleep together, as it happens. 

It would have been anti-climatic, rather literally, and Tuco’s very grateful for the double bathrooms adjacent to Angel Eyes’ bedroom. If a little less so for the lack of privacy- all right, so a rich voyeur might have every reason to install these gilded swinging doors, like the saloon in an old western, but they look flimsy and he feels rather exposed. 

(Especially since Angel has a toilet with an actual door, the bastard. He should have nabbed that one instead, but shamelessness is one thing. Standing numb and stupid in another man’s bedroom, with his member half falling out of his jeans and ecstasy still burning up his veins, had been another thing altogether and he’d been only too glad to stumble into the one without a lock on it.)

Contrast. The sheer, solid wealth of this place awes him all over again, now he’s alone and had time to catch a few breaths. Black and green stone everywhere, marble maybe, hell he doesn’t know- the only time he’s seen anything like it has been the odd overpriced hotels, at the height of their luck. And him in sweat-marked Hawaiian shirt and soiled pants. He grabs a wad of toilet paper, dampens it a little to help scrape off the cum. 

There’s a sound of running water on the other side of the wall; presumably, Angel Eyes is doing much the same thing. Or not. Maybe rich people just throw out their underwear every night, like he heard once about the queen of England. 

“The shit isn’t going to stink any less, because of these pretty surroundings,” he says aloud, just to see if he’ll get a response. There isn’t one. 

Shrugging, he cleans up his clothes as best he can, and takes advantage of the showerhead to wake himself up a bit. Three minute drill had always been a necessity during winters back home, before the hot water turned icy; he prefers baths these days but isn’t going to stand around hoping for one. Blondie always goes to work on the assumption that he holds all the cards. He likes playing at that himself, but it doesn’t stop him noticing where the exit signs are. 

(Besides, kicking out the third party strikes him as a sensible way of resolving this little Mexican stand-off they have going. It’s what he’d do.)

At this point, he might not even mind leaving; that big meal, a good wank, all he needs to do is find somewhere decently sheltered and he’ll sleep for hours. He and Blondie have an agreed rendezvous at the town border, as usual. Six o’clock tomorrow evening. 

If nobody’s there, well...by then he’ll be hungry enough to need a new plan. That’ll keep him busy enough not to fret. 

A slight bitterness chills him, while he dries off and rummages through the Duluth for his straight razor; this Angel Eyes is like who he ought to be, if he’d been lucky and wealthy and smart. Or maybe just smart. Enough to think up a really sharp dodge, not just their easy brainless games, something that would justify all this worry and hustle. 

(He’s been content to let Blondie do the thinking, because his partner was always so good at it. Is still good at it; this must be why they’re here at all, why Blondie had gone to such lengths convincing him to look up Carson. There couldn’t have been a better way to work back into his Angel’s affections, than to win that game, look sharp and independent doing it...and then, the damned tease, hold off on closing the deal. Give it a week and Blondie will probably have lawyers inventing the man-to-man prenup.)

There’s six different kinds of shaving oil on the long fluted shelf below the sink, along with creams and perfumes and who knows what else; Tuco ignores all of them and starts shaving dry. His face is still damp, that’s good enough for him- it has to be, more often than not- 

god above, he’s tired. Or not half drunk enough. He retrieves a miniature from a roll of clean socks and polishes it off without looking at the label, feels a little better. Getting out of this house would be a start, if he can remember the way out. Maybe lift something missable, while he’s about it. 

A door opens, and Angel Eyes walks out, peers at him over the swinging doors. Clad in something it takes Tuco a moment to recognise as a bathrobe. The material’s thicker than regular terrycloth and cut a little oddly, straight down and lacking a belt loop. Something about seamless garments...but the thought slips his mind almost immediately. 

“You might as well sleep here for the night,” Angel Eyes says. “There’s six other bedrooms you can have your pick of tomorrow, but I’m not giving you the guided tour at this hour of night. Take your time in the morning, I want to have a long conversation with Blondie before I talk to you again.” 

From that angle, Tuco reckons, approximately one hundred percent of him is on display; might as well not even have a door. He carries on shaving. “You want to explain, why you’re not driving me off with a shotgun?”

“Blondie seems to want you to stay- or at least, didn’t demand that you go. For now that’s enough. There are other things you might do, to stay longer.” 

Depends on the price. Sometimes he pays it, sometimes he doesn’t, but he always hears it out, however humiliating the process of listening turns out to be. He bites back a good sharp comeback, readies himself for one more round. 

“Such as what?”

“You can second-guess him.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes, yeah- he’s my partner. What about it?”

“Teach me how to do it,” Angel Eyes says. 

Impossible. You’d have to be Blondie, to match him. 

“Sure thing. Any other little miracles you want done?”

“That’ll do for now...”

“No hay de qué,” Tuco says, easily; nicks himself across the ear, and spends the next several minutes swearing the air good and blue. 

(Confidently, though.)

[sandyyy0708-blog]

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[ablackbirdsinging]

I wrote a thing

@azrielsiphons  This is the fic I was telling you about! 

Like Calls to Like (Chapter 1)

Nina Zenik/Sturmhond  Will get to be pretty mature (explicit??), but not yet. Spoilers for everything Leigh Bardugo has ever published. Don’t read any of this if you haven’t finished Crooked Kingdom and the entirety of the Grisha Trilogy. 

If you’d rather read this over on AO3, here’s a handy link for you.

Nina stood at the bow of the ship with Genya, taking measured breaths of the briny sea air. Between the ship’s crew, the refugee Grishas, Kuwei, the members of the Triumvirate, and Matthias’ still body in the ship’s hold, Nina was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

As she often did when she stood above deck, Nina felt Sturmhond’s eyes on her, assessing her the way he assessed everything - the sails, the stars, the weather, his crew.

She was no stranger to the gaze of men, but there was something cool in Sturmhond’s eyes which made Nina think him impervious to the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts.

Frankly, it was a relief.

He picked his way across the deck, murmuring words to the sailors and the Grisha working up top.

“Morning,” Genya said, looking up with a smile as he approached.

“We should be pulling into port by the end of day tomorrow,” he said by way of greeting. Nina loosed a relieved breath and he eyed her curiously. “Not much of a sailor, Zenik?”

“I’ll just be glad to set my feet back down on Ravkan soil again,” Nina replied. A wide smile broke across Sturmhond’s face, softening his sometimes strange features.

“Me too,” he murmured as he walked away. “Me too.”

Nina turned back to Genya who was watching the privateer’s retreating form almost sadly.

“I’d thought he’d be… bigger.” Nina said. Genya huffed out half a laugh.

“He used to be, once,” she said with a shrug.

“Do you know him well, then?” Nina asked.

“Not well, exactly. Our history is…complicated.” Nina raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Not like that!” Genya laughed. “We never, I swear! But I’ve known him a long time. Before…and after.”

“The war?” Genya bit her lip, her eye thoughtful.

“Yes, that too.” Nina didn’t press the subject. She didn’t know what role Sturmhond had played, exactly, but she was familiar with the things the Grisha had endured during the Ravkan Civil War. The war had changed people, changed the country she loved. And it seemed even the coolest and most confident of privateers hadn’t been immune to its horrors.

—-

Nina hadn’t wanted to even go back to the Little Palace once they returned to Ravka. She was eager to find another ship to take her and Matthias’ body to Fjerda as soon as possible. But Zoya and Genya were insistent that she rest at the Little Palace for a while. Only there would they be able to find a healer to prepare Matthias’ body for another long sea voyage. Genya had done what she could before their trip to Ravka, but her knowledge on the subject was pretty limited. So Nina reluctantly agreed to return with them to the Little Palace before setting out again. She had to admit the idea of a couple weeks with solid ground under her feet again sounded nice.

“And besides, the King will surely want to be briefed on the happenings in Ketterdam, right?” Genya and Zoya shared a conspiratorial look.

“Right,” Genya said with a small laugh. She was practically hopping from excitement to see David after her time away. The thought of Genya and her Fabrikator love lightened Nina’s heart as they approached the palace walls.

—-

The day after Nina’s return to Ravka, she was called before King Nikolai. Genya had already secured a new kefta for Nina to wear, and she smoothed it nervously as she walked through the King’s throne room.

Darker than the typical Heartrender red by a few shades and embellished with swirling black embroidery along the back, the beautifully-crafted garment belied Nina’s new dark affinity.

The King watched her as she approached with a suppressed grin. Of course he didn’t need to be briefed on the happenings in Ketterdam, as he’d been there himself wearing Sturmhond’s face. But his Grisha Triumvirate was insistent that he continued the ruse, even in the midst of their own trusted Grisha.

“Miss Zenik,” Nikolai said as she came close and sketched a stiff bow. She had always seemed at ease around Sturmhond’s ship, if a bit reserved with the other travelers. It was strange to see her dressed up in the Grisha formal wear with her dark curls piled atop her head. “Squaller Nazyalensky has been filling me in on the events of the last several weeks. It sounds like we have you to thank for the recovery of several expatriate Ravkans, as well as the safety of Kuwei Yul-Bo.”

“Of course I didn’t act alone,” Nina demurred. “And of course it wouldn’t have been possible without Zoya, Genya, and Sturmhond.” Zoya nodded in her direction, but Genya was missing from the room. Nina suspected she and David were still enjoying their reunion at the Little Palace.

“Still, your actions were very admirable in the face of the challenges in Ketterdam. Will you be returning to your role in the Second Army, now that you’ve returned to Ravka?”

Nina rubbed a slippered foot awkwardly on the floor tiles in front of her.

“Actually, Your Majesty, I have a personal matter to attend to first. My -” she cleared her throat uncomfortably. “My close friend lost his life in the fighting in Ketterdam. I wish to return his body to Fjerda as soon as possible.”

The King’s golden eyebrows rose up into his hairline.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you that Grisha such as yourself are not well-received in Fjerda. We’ve suspended the ships on our northern trade route in light of the tensions abroad. There are of course no passenger ships going out to Fjerda either.”

Nina shook out the stiff cuffs of her kefta.

“I was hoping I might convince Sturmhond to take me actually.” She said quietly. “He seems to have only a sliver of self-preservation. He might not find the trip entirely impossible.”

King Nikolai’s hazel eyes lit up a bit.

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t find it impossible at all. Shall I make a formal request on your behalf?”

Nina’s cool formality lifted like a veil at that.

“Oh, could you?” She looked like a girl again, staring up at him with so much unbridled hope that Nikolai suddenly found it hard to meet her eyes. He shrugged.

“He owes me about a million favors. I’ll send a letter right away.”

“Thank you so much, Your Majesty.”

“Of course,” Nikolai nodded. “If that’s all, then you may go. I’ll be in touch when I hear from Sturmhond.” Nikolai could almost feel Zoya rolling her eyes from beside his dais.

Dismissed, Nina turned to go and the rooms’ torches shone upon the back of her kefta. Black embroidery crept from the hem toward her neck in a dark, swirling riot amid the rich, wine red fabric. The sight sent a shiver up Nikolai’s spine. His fingers itched inside his ever-present gloves. It felt, suddenly, like the twist of scars and the dark shadows in his blood had reared up again. His arms, his chest, the backs of his shoulders suddenly felt too hot, too constricted by his finely tailored clothes. As the dark Heartrender swept from his throne room, Nikolai’s eyes watched her go with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years.

—

Two nights later, Nina had just returned to her room after dinner when there was a knock at her door. Some of her old classmates had been stopping by since her return to hear about her adventures being captured by the druskelle, then gallivanting around Ketterdam for a year.

But when she pulled open the door, Sturmhond was leaning against the door frame.

“Hi,” she said, somewhat awkwardly. His mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile.

“Hi,” he responded. “Uh, can I come in?”

Nina cast a backwards glance at her small room, and shifted to block it from Sturmhond’s line of sight.

“Can you give me a minute?”

“Yeah that’s fine,” but she was already shutting the door in his face.

For someone who arrived in the country with almost no worldly possessions less than a week ago, she had amassed a giant collection of shoes, dresses, tunics, capes, hair ties, and undergarments which were currently strewn across every available surface of her room. There was also more than one serving tray of days-old tea and pastry crumbs haphazardly stacked on the small desk.

Without a second thought, she swept as much of the clutter behind the dressing screen and anything that wouldn’t fit got kicked under the bed. She straightened the quilt across the bed and fluffed a pillow, then her hair. There was no help for her clothes - a drab and ill-fitting tunic and olive leggings, but he had seen her in worse aboard the ship. Her new kefta might have helped a bit, but it was somewhere buried in the heap of clothes relocated to the corner of her room.

With a deep breath, she yanked her door back open. Sturmhond was still lounging in the same position she’d left him in a moment before.

She plastered on her best “House of the White Rose” smile and gestured to the room behind her.

“Come in. Welcome to my humble abode.”

His calculating gaze swept over her room.

“It’s very… homey.”

“Well, we can’t all call a shockingly well-appointed and lavishly furnished pirate ship home.”

“It’s privateer, actually.”

“Alright, shockingly well-appointed and lavishly furnished privateer ship.”

“That has a nice ring to it actually. I’d like that engraved on a plaque,” he said as he perched on the edge of her desk beside a cup of yesterday’s tea with a dead flying floating in it. He poked the cup with one gloved finger and watched the fly slosh around.

“I didn’t know the serious pirate captain could make a joke.” She fixed him with a wicked smile, a challenge.

“Privateer, dear. And I’m not joking. You’ll know when I am because it will be hilarious.” He looked up from the disgusting tea cup and returned her wicked smile. Nina couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out into the small space.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a proposition for me.” His ruddy eyebrows arched into his ginger hairline in an expression that was vaguely familiar. Nina had enough good grace to blush at the innuendo.

“You got the King’s letter?”

“Actually, I showed up before he’d had a chance to send it. But he filled me in and suggested that you wouldn’t be discouraged from the task. He assured me that you were already well aware that your plan to show up in Fjerda was pure madness.”

“I’ve been told you’re an expert at mad plans,” Nina said coyly, picking at the hem of her tunic.

“By whom?” She could hear the smile in his voice without looking at him.

“By the other expert of mad plans.”

“Kaz Brekker, I assume?”

“Of course,” and he looked up to meet her eyes. They were shining with that light again, that hope that he had seen in the throne room. He shook his head to clear his mind.

“He humbles me. We’ll take my smallest and fastest ship.”

“Wait, what?” Her eyes became glassy with unshed tears.

“Honestly, I’d rather take one of the flying craft but the weather that far north is too unpredictable. Maybe if we waited till spring, but still, if we went down in Fjerdan waters and couldn’t get airborne again, we’d be, well, fucked. So a traditional ship is our best bet. We’ll take a skeleton crew and I won’t force any of the Grisha to travel with us. I’ll ask for volunteers, of course, but I can’t guarantee that any of them will want to take the risk. In the last month the situation in Fjerda has become even more unstable.”

“I understand,” Nina said. A relieved tear spilled down her cheek. “Why are you doing this?”

“Well, when the King asks so nicely…”

“Right,” she sniffed, “because you owe him a million favors.”

“Did he say that? Ridiculous. He owes ME a million favors.” Nina shook her head, laughing.

“I guess I don’t really care why you’ve decided to help -” but he cut her off.

“You have a lot of heart, Zenik. I like that. And I think what you’re doing for Matthias is very honorable.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “I have some business to handle for the King over the next week or so, but I’ll start making preparations for the journey. I’ll send correspondence when I have a better idea of our sail date.”

He hopped off the corner of the desk where he’d been perched and headed for the door. Nina followed, wringing her hands.

“Thank you for this, Sturmhond. Truly.” He shrugged.

“Call me Niko.”

“Niko?” There was a devilish light in his bright green eyes.

“You didn’t think my mother named me Sturmhond, did you?”

“I didn’t know people like you had mothers, actually.”

Sturmhond - no, Niko’s - laughter echoed down the hallway as he walked away, leaving Nina to her small, disheveled room again.

—-

“This is a terrible idea.”

“I haven’t asked for your opinion, Zoya.”

“You’ve barely been back a week and already you want to go off gallivanting for no reason.”

“I still haven’t asked for your opinion, Zoya. And besides, it’s not ‘no reason.’ Not to her. She made a promise.”

“A promise that has nothing to do with you.”

“I like when people keep their promises,” Nikolai insisted stubbornly.

“Believe me, we all do, Nikolai. It doesn’t mean you have to be the one to take her.”

“There’s no one else who can.”

“If it’s truly that dangerous then all the more reason that you shouldn’t go,” Zoya stomped her foot to punctuate her point.

“Do not treat me like a child, Nazyalensky.”

“Then stop acting like one. You’re no longer the spare second son who can waste his time playing pirate captain. Privateer, I know I know. Don’t waste your breath. I shouldn’t have to tell you that you’re the King now and -”

“Yes, and as the King -” But Genya cut him off.

“Can you two stop arguing for a moment so I can concentrate? If you keep scowling like this I’m going to end up marring one of your beautiful features. On accident, of course.” Genya was removing the Sturmhond tailoring he’d asked her to work up a few hours before. Her hands worked across his face, returning his features to that of the King.

Zoya bit her lip and restrained herself for a whole minute before she started talking again.

“Your people need to see you on the throne.”

“My people need many many things from me, Zoya, and I cannot give all of them all of what they want. But in this specific instance, I can give one of my people exactly what she wants. And I’m the only one who can.”

“Are you fucking her, Nikolai?” Genya’s hands on his face stilled.

“Really, Zoya?” Genya said as she shot a critical look at the Squaller.

“I apologize. That was uncouth. Are you making sweet, passionate love to her, Your Majesty?”

“If I was, that would be my business alone. Not a matter for the Triumvirate. But the answer is no.” Genya’s hands stilled on his face. “What? Spit it out Safin.”

“Well, do you want to?” He could have sworn Zoya was biting her lip to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

“Do you two plan ways to gang up on me, or does it just come that naturally to you?”

—-

Nina made her way to the Corporalki workshops the next morning. She was meeting with a Grisha named Annushka who had taken on the task of preparing Matthias’ body for preservation and eventual burial once they returned him to Fjerda.

Nina had once called the Corporalki labs home when she was a student at the Little Palace, and not much had changed. She picked her way to the desk Annushka called hers.

“Nina, it’s great to see you again.”

“Hello, Annushka. I got your message. Did everything go ok?”

“Yes, all went to plan. The body is prepared and one of David’s apprentices brought a box over just yesterday. It will keep the humidity stable aboard the ship to make sure everything stays intact on the journey over.”

Nina swallowed thickly and nodded her thanks. She never imagined she’d be barely an adult and preparing to bury her first love.

“Would you like to see him before we seal the coffin?”

“I - I don’t think so, if that’s alright.” She had said her goodbyes in Ketterdam.

“Of course,” Annushka reached out to grip her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, Nina.”

“Thank you, Annu.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Nina bit the inside of her cheek. There was something else she was wondering.

“Genya said you would be the best to work with Matthias’ body because you’re particularly well-suited to working with the, um, dead.”

“Yes, I’ve always struck a bit of a balance between the Heartrenders and the Healers. Not interested in killing, but not best equipped for medicine and healing, either.”

“I see,” Nina tapped her foot nervously. She liked Annushka, but she wasn’t sure how much she could confide in the Grisha seated across from her. “As you know, I trained as a Heartrender here a few years ago before leaving to join the Second Army.” Annu nodded. “But recently I’ve found that my power has changed. I’m much more in tune with the dead, than the living. In fact,” she dropped her voice low, “I’ve found that I can actually move the dead.” Annushka, to her credit, kept her expression carefully guarded.

“Bring them back, you mean?”

“Not exactly,” although she remembered the moments that she’d tried and almost succeeded with Matthias. “More like, re-animate. I could cause a corpse to get up and walk around, like a marionette. Have you ever heard of other Heartrenders with such affinities?”

Annushka shook her head.

“Not exactly. My own power is much more limited. In the most basic terms, I can isolate and arrest the decomposition of the dead cells. That’s why I’m well suited to the work you needed done with Matthias. But I’ve heard of others who possess a stronger affinity for working with the dead. Those who can manipulate the appearance of a corpse, extract internal organs for study, or even transplant, from the dead. But nothing as large scale as what you’ve described. To re-animate a corpse.” She let out a low whistle. “The power that must take is astronomical.”

Nina shrugged off the praise.

“Well thank you, Annu, for everything. The work on Matthias’ body, as well as the extra information. I’d appreciate if you could keep this confidential. I’m still working through what my new abilities mean.”

“Of course, Nina. If I hear of anything else on the topic, I’ll let you know.” Nina nodded her thanks again and headed back to her own quarters, with thoughts of Grisha who worked with the dead milling about in her head.

—-

Nina was a little bit drunk. She swayed down the hall laughing with two other Grisha her age, on their way to their rooms. Maybe she was more than a little bit drunk, actually.

Suddenly Naomi beside her froze.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a tall, red-headed man friend, Zenik?” Sturmhond leaned against the wall across from the door to her room, his gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

“Oh him? He’s no one. Just renowned sea captain and scourge of the seas, Sturmhond. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

“Saints, Nina. Send him to my room when you’re done with him, then.” The women giggled as Nina left them behind to approach Sturmhond.

“Did you just call me ‘scourge of the seas’?” He asked her in a low voice as she sauntered toward him. She nodded with a smile. “I take back what I said about calling me Niko. I only want you to call me that from now on.”

Nina laughed and opened the door to her room, gesturing for him to follow.

“Your wish is my command, Most Excellent Pirate Captain, Sir.”

“I like you like this, Zenik.” She turned to him with mischief in her eyes.

“Like what? Drunk? Reeking of kvas and pickled herring? Wearing a low cut dress that barely contains my tits?”

His gaze lowered very slowly to her cleavage and then very slowly back up to her face.

“I was going to say ‘laughing’ but now that you mention it…” She laughed louder at that and stepped away from Sturmhond to reveal the disaster of her room.

“Did you get in a fight with a Squaller? It looks like a tornado came through here. Did the Little Palace fire all of their housekeeping staff?”

“Austerity measures,” she said with a shrug.

“Well I’m glad they’re not skimping on kvas in the dining room, at least. You do smell like liquor and pickled herring, you know.”

“When in Ravka?” He smiled, looking around for a place to sit. With every available flat space covered in clothes and clutter, he sat awkwardly at the end of her unmade bed. She bounced next to him.

“What business, then?”

“The ship and crew are almost ready. We can leave in two days.”

“Wonderful, I’ll start, uh, packing my belongings.”

“You’d better start right away. It looks like it could take a while,” he said surveying the mess.

She leaned in close to him, until her messy curls were nearly brushing his shoulder.

“As soon as I get you out of my bed, I’ll begin.” He loosed a ragged breath and ran one gloved hand over his red hair.

“Are you doing this on purpose to unnerve me?” His gaze was steady on hers.

“Yes. Is it working?”

“Yes!” They laughed together, fierce blushes crossing both of their faces.

“I’ll see you in two days, then.”

“Two days,” he confirmed with a nod.

As she walked him to the door, Nina puzzled over something.

“I thought you were going to send me a letter about the plans,” she said as he started to walk out the door. He paused, shoulders stiffened. Then without turning around to look at her, he shrugged his shoulders.

“I just wanted to see you again.” And then he was gone.

That night, for the first time since Matthias’ death, Nina did not dream of snow and pines and wolves and blue eyes. Instead, on the waves of sleep, she sailed with the green eyes and clever smile of the boy she called the scourge of the seas.

[persorene]

May I request "Just stay with me" for the Four Word Prompts? Thank you so much!! 😀

I actually got this request twice but the other one requested that I combine “I need to go” and “Just stay with me” so that’s what I’ll do here!Jakob could be described as many things; astute, precise, cold- but playful was not something one could call him. That is, unless he was in the company of his master. And so the intense water battle that had broken out between them could only be described as somewhat out of character for him. As he always did when the pile of soiled garments had gotten far too high and the maids had, as usual, slacked off on keeping it up, he had decided to take care of it himself. A clear stream ran through their fort in the astral plane and was perfect for scrubbing the grime from the army’s clothing. Jakob carried it all in a basket to the water’s edge and began to work diligently when the first splash hit him.He looked up in an instant, ready to give his attacker a piece of his mind- but standing in front of him was his princess. She looked toward the sky, whistling a tune slightly too loud to get his attention, hands behind her back and her lovely cheeks flushed pink as she tried to hold in a laugh.Jakob smiled at her but turned back to his work without acknowledging her. It would drive her mad- and that’s what he was counting on. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his well-defined forearms and protecting his shirt from the water as he expertly scrubbed the clothing. He could hear her as she approached. She moved slowly, hoping to surprise him, but he knew her and every trick she had. Jakob didn’t look up- his attention was still, mostly, dedicated to the task at him. It was as she stepped beside, ready to playfully shove him toward the water that he finally spun around, flinging the water that he’d cupped in his hands. The droplets landed their hit, spattering her dress with dark spots where they’d hit her.“Jakob!”He laughed like a child as he stood up and darted away from her as if they were playing a game of tag. He dashed into the stream, his boots landing with a loud splash as they flung water up and onto his pant legs.Corrin stood on the bank, her hair blowing in the breeze and her hand on her hip “You don’t think I’ll come in after you?” she teased, her smile only growing.“I know you won’t!” Jakob taunted.The princess gathered her dress in her hands and walked into the water, it was cool as it lapped at her ankles. She walked out to where he was standing and dropped her gown, it’s hem darkening as it skirted along the water “Now what will you do?”He smirked and leaned down, fling yet another handful of water at her. This particular splash struck her in the face. Her breath caught in her throat as the cool water took her by surprise.“Oh I see.” She muttered “It’s a war you want. However, you’ve made a grave mistake.”“And what was that, milady?”“You challenged a military leader to a battle.” She smirked and bounded toward the bucket of water he’d been using to do the wash. She ran in a strange crouching fashion, filling the vessel as she ran forward. Corrin flung the water from the bucket toward him before he’d had a chance to get out of her way. Her attack worked, her butler stood still with his arms out, his shirt was soaked wet, making the white fabric translucent and showing off his muscled torso in a way that she couldn’t help but admire. His usually wispy pale hair now clung to his skin in a soaked mass. The water had tugged his ribbon from his hair, leaving the length flowing freely down his back and over his shoulders. The princess laughed, he looked simultaneously disheveled and handsome- and it was rather captivating.“You think you’ve won, do you?” Jakob teased, shoving his bangs out of his eyes as she stared at her.“I have! Look at you.”He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her gently toward the water. Her laughter had dissolved into joyous squeals and he reveled in every one of them. He held her in one arm, hovering her above the water as he splashed her with his free hand, soaking her hair and dress and drawing forth laughter that he’d never heard from her before. He was half tempted to keep going, lay her in the water and settle down beside her, to let their battle turn into something more physical. But his rational side came back to him. They weren’t in her tree house. They were in open, where anyone could see them, could see a butler and his master in a situation that was far from professional. A cold breeze blew through the air and he realized it was still only early spring, too cold for this kind of play, and she was soaked head to toe. She’d surely catch cold and he would have only himself to blame.He lifted her up, and carried her to the banks of the creek, settling her down onto her feet with ease. “Come-“ he said as he left the water as well “Let’s get you dried off.”They stood in her tree house, her wet gown had been exchanged for a dry one and her hair had been combed free of its tangles. Jakob stood behind her, toweling her hair dry, before he could stop her, the princess had gripped his waist and spun around to face him, leaving them dreadfully close to one another. She looked up to face him, feeling his warm breath on her skin.“I’m sorry.” She whispered “I know I shouldn’t have started that where anyone could see it. I just can’t stand that we have to keep this a secret.” She pressed her lips to his, waiting for him to take over like he usually did but this time he pulled away. His eyes drifted to the window and out toward the stream that they’d just romped about in.“I need to go.” He muttered, his demeanor cold and distant.“Jakob, stop. What’s wrong?”“You deserve a love that doesn’t have to be hidden.”She fell back softly, sitting on her bed. She patted a space beside her. Jakob sat beside her, laying a hand on top of hers.“I don’t deserve anything else because I already have the very best. Your title or lack thereof has no bearing on my feelings for you.”“You may not care, milady, but I do. The damage that this could do to your reputation is extensive.”“And I can live with that.” She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder “Look, they’ll all come around to it. Just, stay with me. It’ll work out.” Corrin kissed his cheek gently “I promise it will.”“Well, if it’s a promise-" he whispered, interrupting himself as he pressed a warm kiss into her lips "Then I suppose I'll believe you."

[mitchelgroff]

Dry Cleaners Need Enough Time To Clean Clothes

I  was making my way from Atanta, GA to Mobile, AL last week with a lot of windshield time ahead of me, listening to "the greatest rock 'n' roll band in the world" -The Rolling Stones .  The lyrics from the song "Time Is On My Side" were stuck in my head the rest of the day, which led me to this posting.  When it comes to dry cleaning, time really is on our side.  

Think about it.  The more time the customer gives the drycleaner with their garments, the more time the dry cleaner has to work on the garment and the more time the dry cleaner has in case he needs to rerun the garment (to those dry cleaning consumers who may read this blog - the more time you give your drycleaner to properly process your garments, the greater the probability that you will be pleased with the results).  Giving the garment sufficient drying time is another area that is a must for the dry cleaner and then there is the actual wash time of the garment.  There is no substitute for the length of cleaning cycle time when it comes to cleaning clothes. Dry cleaners need enough time to clean clothes!

The dry cleaning machine is designed to clean clothes and when set up properly, a very low rate of reruns can be achieved.  Wash time in the dry cleaning machine is a huge factor.  Even if all conditions are perfect (filter working correctly, pump working efficiently, load factor good, detergent concentration correct and solvent level correct) you will not receive the results the consumer expects if the wash time is insufficient.

What is the correct length of a wash/cleaning cycle?  

The correct length of the cleaning cycle depend's on several factors.   The type's of material, dyes and garment construction are very important.  Any recleans, delicates and loosely woven fabrics will need a short cycle  Over the last few years, the degree of dye fading you can expect has come into play (rarely a factor 30 years ago), pre-test garments for color fastness and if it appears dyes will bleed, a bleeder type program or short wash cycle would be most desirable.  Due to the servicability issues of the garment, these garments are the exception and will be best processed in a 5-6 minute wash cycle and even less in the case very ornate garments.  

However, for the vast majority of garments, those garments that I would classify as a "regular" type garment, I would recommend no less than 12 minutes of filtered wash time in perc and no less than 20-25 minutes in both low flash and high flash hydrocarbon

Why are these wash time necessary?

Solvent Soluble Soils - These soils are removed fairly quickly in both of these solvents and should not be looked at when considering the length of the wash cycle on the drycleaning machine.  These soils are typically removed sufficiently when giving the other type soils the time they need in order to be removed.

Fugitive Dyes - These dyes are removed in both distillation and through the activated carbon available in your cartridge filters.  Many machines today are under-filtered with less amounts of activated carbon available.  Many of the garments we are cleaning today have more fugitive dyes than at any other time in our industry.    

Insoluble Soil - Study's have shown that even without garments in the dry cleaning wheel, it will take a minimum of 8 minutes of solvent circulation with filtration to flush the majority of insoluble soils from the wash wheel.  Also, when you consider the difference in weight between the two solvents, hydrocarbon being almost half as much the weight of perc, hydrocarbon will not remove insoluble soils from the garments as quickly.  Hydrocarbon will remove insoluble soils as effectively as perc when given a wash cycle of 20-25 minutes.

Water Soluble Soil - Solubilized water does not go to work to remove water soluble type stains immediately.  The natural water that is in all garments that go into the dry cleaning machine along with the solubilized water that is in the dry cleaning solvent must be at the same relative humidity before water will begin to dissolve the water soluble stains.  This equilibrium is not reached until 8 minutes into the wash cycle.  This means that food stains, perspiration and other water soluble stains have not even begun to be removed until 8 minutes into the wash cycle.  If these stains are heavy or built up, they will need a considerable amount of wash time to be completely dissolved.  

Give your garments a good long filtered wash (when garment construction allows) and you will have a much better end result.  Time needs to be on the side of the dry cleaner durango in order to provide high quality garment care. Dry cleaners need enough time to clean clothes!

[bredigerlandscapeco-blog]

Landscaping Tips - Designing the Garden of Your Dreams

Snohomish Landscaping

As a Landscape Designer, I'm frequently asked for tips and advice on open air living and garden design. The single greatest tip or recommendation I can offer is to arrange an on location consultation with a qualified Landscape Designer.

But, if you want the satisfaction of doing it all yourself, here are my top tips for designing the garden of your dreams...

Whatever and wherever the setting, landscape design should be thought of as the art of beautifying functionality.

A very much designed garden needs to balance the stylish with the functional. It needs to reflect and supplement the home, the immediate environmental factors and, above all else, reflect and incorporate the style of its proprietor. It needs to: frame the spectacular; cover up the unattractive; meet the practical needs of its clients; create intrigue, imagination and allurement; summon sentiments of relaxation, romance, sophistication, elegance and miracle; and add value to the home. It should be an exceptionally tangible sanctuary - visual, perfumed, acoustic and tactile.

So my absolute first consideration when designing any new garden is functionality. Consider how you want to utilize your garden (for example year around open air entertaining, play area for the children, a shady spot to read, a veggie and spice garden, putting green, and so on, and so forth). You at that point need to exercise how much room you requirement for furniture, pools, spas, play hardware, garments lines, sheds, fertilizer canisters, and so on and where you're going to put everything. The size and measurements of your furniture, play hardware, the perspectives from the different windows of your home and the way the sun and shadows track across your yard is largely going to dictate the size, shape and positioning of the different components in your garden.

Since you've created your garden's functional skeleton, it's an ideal opportunity to release your inward garden designer. This is where looking at magazines that showcase beautiful gardens will assist you with drawing inspiration. It is also at this point that you have to consider the financial and, if you're contemplating a D.I.Y. installation, the labor speculation that you're prepared to make.

Your selection of materials and development strategies can make a significant impact on how far your venture will take you. As an aside...if you are thinking about D.I.Y., make sure to apply the Universal Law that is somewhat lesser known than Newton's Law of Gravity, but equally unquestionable - 'The Factor of Three'. When you have calculated the amount you figure your project will cost and how long you figure it will take you, duplicate each of these by 3 - for what is probably going to be your actual project cost and project course of events.

Regardless of the particular style of garden that you pick (for example tropical, native, Japanese, cottage, Mediterranean, and so on), here are a couple of tips to assist you with beautifying the functional:

• Try and incorporate repeating topics - carry components from the front garden into the back garden and utilize similar hues and textures from inside your home in your garden.

• If your garden is awkwardly shaped, circles and bends work really well to create intriguing transition zones and fantastic garden features (studies have also discovered that bends and circles also inspire sentiments of relaxation, calm and tranquility).

• If you'd prefer to make your garden feel larger, utilize large format pavers laid in a basic pattern; espalier climbing plants to deliver rich green walls, without sacrificing space (have a go at espaliering citrus trees for a Mediterranean courtyard); paint a splendid feature wall and use mirrors or hanging wall art.

• Redirect or occupy attention - if you can't easily screen something unattractive, redirect attention from it by creating/placing a feature near by to draw the eye. Utilize the sound of streaming water or delicate music to distract attention from road noise.

• Use lighting and music to set different subjects and states of mind - interface the lights in your outside entertaining area to a dimmer switch or install separate disposition and functional lighting; delicate garden lighting guides visitors through and creates another measurement for your garden; unobtrusive speaker placement means music can be delighted in from anywhere in the garden (far superior to opening the parlor windows and turning the sound system up).

• Try not to incorporate too many feature components - apply the 'toning it down would be best' principal. If there are such a large number of features clamoring for your attention, you probably won't really see and appreciate any of them.

• Make sure that any constructed structures (for example walls, wall, pergolas, decks, lakes, and so on) conform to local Council Regulations, Building Codes and, on account of gray-water re-use, Health Department Regulations.

• Before planting, incorporate a good quality treated the soil dirt (that is suited to the plants you are picking) into your garden; add bentonite clay and zeolite for moisture maintenance; test the pH of your dirt and remediate if necessary (most plants will develop in pH neutral soils); and apply a good quality wetting agent.

• Make sure the plant is directly for the spot, before you get it. Read the plant labels carefully and match the plant to the location it will be happiest in (for example part shade, very much drained soils), take note of its development habit and plant accordingly.

• Apply about 50mm of good quality mulch to your garden (a good general guideline to utilize is - if you can walk on it in bare feet, it's not mulch), making sure you keep it 10mm - 20mm away from the base of your plants. Note - while shakes and stones look decent in garden beds, they store heat and may cook the underlying foundations of your smaller plants in particularly radiant spots.

• Regular maintenance is then the way to guaranteeing your dream garden doesn't turn into a nightmare - doing a little bit frequently is obviously superior to doing a great deal rarely. It also causes you associate with your garden and you'll appreciate it considerably more.

• A garden resembles any living creature, it takes time to develop and grow, so don't be afraid to plant some 'sacrificial' plants that occupy space while the garden's progressively permanent plants round out.

[meaganmonroy927-blog]

Freddy Palmer Personal Coach Ottawa And Some Of His Clients. Bodybuilding Fitness. Muscle Mass. On

For getting correct muscle you should follow healthy diet. Like most dietary supplements, http://impuissance-traitement-fr.eu/Xtrazex.html the Bulking Stack needs to be taken with an acceptable train and diet program. The most effective method to resolve the issue is to seek out greatest pure herbal weight gainer complement pills for women and men and follow a wholesome dietary and exercising routine to promote healthy weight gain. MuscleTech Mass Tech is one other product that comprises extra than just protein and http://produits-contre-la-calvitie.eu/rogaine.html carbs. For his or http://baraita.net/penis-enlargement/ her part, protein shakes typically boast of how little they include other than protein, with minimal amounts of carbs in a serving. This is when your body produces essentially the most human progress hormone which is a key to constructing muscle. Yeah, you could go full hulk mode (soiled bulk") and just eat something and the whole lot, maxing out your muscle building… but it surely'll be buried underneath fat, which you may should trim once more and restart the cycle. Weight reduction just isn't so tough and by following the under weight reduction weight loss program tips , one can lose weight comfortable. I've had no drawback slimming down every spring most of my life since my summer time garments r a dimension smaller (I begin each march after we change the clocks fwd), however this year this book made it simpler on me, lost weight faster w less gym time, working smarter not tougher by learning about which foods have an effect on me and the way. That is excellent for people who find themselves having a hard time adding weight to allow them to bulk naturally and immediately. Therefore a smart and easy trick to eat lesser and shed pounds. Multi-week plans for weight loss, race training, flexibility, maternity, and extra. Nevertheless, most supplements are ineffective in that regard without proper vitamin and exercise. Dietary supplements are one thing you only deal with for a couple of minutes per day, and we don't expect something from them besides to do what the label says they may do. It is easy for ancillary muscle groups to come back into play during an exercise in case your type is sloppy because they're there to assist the motion. Should you order any of our dietary supplements for the first time and don't like it, you can preserve it. Simply notify us and we'll give you a full refund on the spot. Study what meals it is best to avoid consuming, and avoid them. Throughout this food regimen, it's essential just remember to add protein-rich food to your meal not less than once a day. We offer a variety of muscle building supplements from the highest manufacturers. As private trainers, we know that resistance training is the Holy Grail for improving energy and constructing muscle mass. As a matter of fact, body constructing just isn't only about lifting weights. Edamame is a superb vegetarian source of protein and a very good supply of fiber, and a serving of edamame offers you an entire day's value of folate, a vitamin that is important for coronary heart well being. So if your a meat eater who needs to kick this habbit then Straightforward Veggie Meal Plans is awesome. Creatine monohydrate is extremely thought to be one of the highly effective and all-round greatest bodybuilding supplements for athletes hoping to make huge positive factors quick. Similar to ginger tea, you may as well make use of licorice root tea to alleviate the troubles because of weak muscle mass and underweight troubles. Day 5 is a straightforward one, no cooking, solely re-heating. In the event you're following a low-carb weight loss program, protein powder is a better complement option than a mass gainer. Phenterdrene is absolutely a great solutions for individuals who wants to lose weights and have problems with over eating at the same time. At the same time you avoid many high calorie meals groups, most importantly processed foods like canned soups or frozen pizzas. Of the 300 or so studies which have investigated creatine for its skill to enhance athletic efficiency, about 70 % have found statistically vital positive aspects. Naked Mass is ideal for consuming earlier than bedtime or between the meal because it helps keep a calorie and excessive protein eating regimen. Whether or not you are particularly aiming to chop carbs, most of us consume unhealthy amounts of sugar and refined carbohydrates comparable to white bread, pizza dough, pasta, pastries, white flour, white rice, and sweetened breakfast cereals. By understanding your physique's needs and your fitness targets, it is possible for you to to search out probably the most suitable kind of weight reduction complement for you. This may actually make it tougher to drop a few pounds and place the body below extra stress. One serving goes a good distance in offering you with the quantity of protein you need every day in an effort to build muscle quickly. Fact: Lengthy-term weight loss requires making more healthy meals selections on the common. I did like that the author defined certain meals preparations (like soaking flax seeds overnight to get the optimum well being benefits from them) of foods that I have been unfamiliar with however wish she had continued with others (like shiitake mushrooms are solely available dried in my space and I didn't know you had to, and even learn how to, reconstitute them). People who find themselves hyper-motivated" can try a six-hour eating schedule that ends at 2 p.m., but researchers believe an eight-10 hour eating window that ends between four-7 p.m. is a much more realistic goal, Peterson noted. The downside: Though intermittent fasting is safe for effectively-nourished and wholesome people, http://bastabantningspillret.ovh/ it doesn't swimsuit everybody. Not only was this product designed that will help you build mass but it surely also delivers enhanced mental power and http://supplements-for-body-builders.com/armostrax.html focus, which might go far in serving to folks get #gainz." The packaging of this Genius Muscle Builder helps customers be able to take it wherever with them, whereas providing sufficient to final a month. While proteins are going to be very important to bulking up, you additionally want to search for ways to trigger your body's personal progress hormone production. If you are tired of being skinny and wish to crush your skinny genes and begin gaining some serious muscle mass then I would advocate reading No Hype, No B.S Muscle Constructing This can be a FREE Muscle Building Guide that can show you an especially powerful muscle building methodology known as "Progressive Overload" that will provide you with Explosive Muscle Progress. Eat like a caveman and train like a caveman has so many people not understanding the fundamentals of the plan. Muscle Advance Weight Gainer is a protein complement that features the correct amount of carbs, proteins and fat wanted to people who wish to construct their muscle mass. Ideally, you wish to have a type of in your cart reasonably than a mass gainer which is full of useless, low-high quality calories and does not present any extra, healthy micronutrients. The purpose right here is not to run for a couple of weeks, lose your required weight, after which fall again into dangerous habits. AST micronized creatine, BSN's cell mass and Promera well being's con-cret are among the extensively used creatine supplements to realize weight. This nice plant-primarily based source of protein delivers eight grams in a half-cup serving together with the identical amount of fiber and good helpings of iron, folate, and magnesium. Universal Nutrition's Real Positive aspects weight gainer promotes lean weight gain with its potent high-protein and amino acid profile formulation. There are no real harmful side effects to taking mass gainers, however, taking them in extra can result in fats accumulation and the entire well being points that may be related to being overweight. This muscle gain supplement will assist provide you the nutrients needed to gain weight without forcing your self to overeat. As Krissy Kendall, PhD, explains in "The Top 7 Supplements to Enhance Endurance Performance," BCAAs might be simply as effective for endurance athletes like runners, rowers, and cyclists as they can be for lifters and bodybuilders. Having mentioned that, sustaining a wholesome weight doesn't mean you can never deal with yourself. Your objective is to be able to start constructing a sculpture of extra muscle, if it is to lose more fat, which could be carried out easily within the stereo system Noto hardwork. Aspect Effects: Drowsiness, fatigue, dizziness, head pain, depression, acute an infection of ear, nose, throat, joint pain, muscle ache, bother sleeping, and diarrhea. Nowadays, now we have seen many skinny guys inside the fitness center pumping away 15- 20 around of units with the weights lighter that the old girls could use for regular exercise. Mass gainer dietary supplements aren't essential if you can get enough energy from meals, however some folks take into account them a convenient addition to a busy life-style. To precisely assess the variety of energy you need, have in mind your weight, age, quantity of weight you want to acquire and your rate of metabolism. During this section, they see the counselor three times per week for steering, help, education, coaching, and monitoring weight and food selections. One of many biggest reasons people don't train, is that they don't have time. Mass gainers have a ratio of 1:3 for carbs and proteins whereas weight gainers have 1:5 ratio. MuscleTech® is America's #1 Selling Bodybuilding Supplement Model primarily based on cumulative wholesale dollar sales 2001 to present. When you're on the ketogenic food plan your physique will get into ketosis, and start burning fats. On the Optimal Weight 5&1 Plan, your physique enters a delicate however environment friendly fat burning state while maintaining retaining lean muscle mass. Together with clarified butter in food plan can enhance the load gain function in body naturally. These with excessive muscle mass and low fats mass had the lowest danger of cardiovascular and total mortality. They work by mimicking the muscle constructing effects of steroids without the unwanted side effects. Utilized in the right approach Muscle Acquire well being supplements help you to get the physique you desire to faster and simpler than without them. COMPLETE LIQUID SYSTEM FOR RAPID ABSORPTION - RSP Liquid L-Carnitine incorporates 1500mg of a hundred% pharmaceutical grade L-Carnitine, formulated for optimum potency and efficacy, making certain complete weight reduction assist, making it a protected alternative to typical fats burners and slimming capsules. This process will assist develop your muscle tissue and let you be wholesome. Collective information gained from these mission has aided within the evolution of exercise hardware and protocols in attempts to refine the method to prevention of spaceflight-induced muscle atrophy and the concomitant deficits in skeletal muscle perform. This supplement's calories come from protein-7 premium sources. Nonetheless, it is important to point out that one major benefit of the rodent model is that adaptive adjustments that occur in both species unfold in a much shorter timeframe in rodents than in people (hours to days versus days to weeks), making it potential to foretell long-time period adjustments in human skeletal muscle based on the shorter absolute time frame of the research carried out on rodents. This 7 day eating regimen plan, 1200 calorie weight loss plan plan is a sample, and shouldn't be adopted by any individual with out consulting with a nutritionist. Basically, women ought to wait till their postpartum checkup, which happens within 12 weeks of giving birth, to start making an attempt to shed extra pounds. In case you are choosing an impressive muscle mass, put on a solid weight coaching programme; do add poundage to your exercise. Nonetheless, the simplest strategy to extend weight is to use helpful supplements that can get the job the done effectually. Carnosine is concerned in numerous physiological processes in the body, with considered one of them being the regulation of acidity levels in your muscle mass. Plus, intense training breaks down muscle tissue, which increases your requirement for dietary protein, in order to assist repair, restoration, and growth. Created by Dr Mosley, the Very Quick 800 Food plan is for those who are trying to reduce weight rapidly and entails eating just 800 energy each day. The experts interviewed for this text did not recommend either of those as reliable muscle building dietary supplements. That stated, not all dietary supplements-together with muscle building merchandise-are nugatory. If you eat protein , your physique breaks it down into amino acids which are the building blocks of muscle. They're helpful when you're attempting to gain mass, and are very helpful for quite a lot of athletes, weightlifters and everyday individuals. Thus, if they're pursuing a meat centered food plan, they may do better to have a smaller portion of meat at time for dinner than is "commonplace." If they are pursuing a vegetarian food regimen, they might not want to fret as a lot about protein complementarity as a vegetarian male as a result of they're at much less threat of ending up protein deficient. Weight loss in study was eleven.6 lbs for those who completed the program. Virtually everybody has a New 12 months's resolution and the most typical New 12 months resolutions are to both train more, or eat healthily or usually have a healthier lifestyle. For muscle growth, an individual needs to consume more than the really useful every day quantity of dietary protein. These eating regimen plans have been proven beneficial in obesity therapy Moreover, very-low-calorie diets seem like more practical than gradual packages, according to a examine printed within the Lancet Diabetes & Endocrinology in December 2014. This additionally helps the physique to transform food to physique weight at a much sooner rate which is why many people flip to natural supplements as a method of gaining weight. BCAAs function an effective recovery agent, serving to to reduce put up-exercise muscle soreness and the recovery time wanted between workouts. The most effective weight reduction meal plan is one that permits for some flexibility with the altering seasons and the ever-changing ebb and stream of family life. Summary: The Whole30 weight-reduction plan is promoted as more than a simple weight reduction weight-reduction plan. Development Surge is on the decrease finish of value for muscle gain merchandise. There is no such thing as a level consuming mass gainers and whey proteins together. Apart from being an beautiful vitamin supplement, Vemma's intention is also to have products with strong antioxidants safety. After exercise, your body repairs these fibres by fusing previous and new protein strands together, making them stronger and sometimes greater. In her ebook she reveals that by eating according to hunger and recognising when we're full, will forestall overeating, and help you take pleasure in any food you fancy without gaining weight - even if it's a piece of cake. Creatine is a common additional ingredient that helps ensure you've gotten the vitality to power via high-depth exercises, and plenty of supplements can even include a variety of vitamins and minerals. Additionally they contain a excessive variety of empty energy that not solely interferes with the healing process but additionally leads to gaining weight after child supply. To ensure that the surplus energy go to your muscular tissues as an alternative of simply your fats cells, it's completely crucial to lift weights. This promotes the growth of lean tissue mass, which is the healthy type of weight achieve. Should you find that something you did not plan for is making a barrier, modify your plan so it really works for you. Progressively growing the load and stress on the targeted muscle tissues will result in mass positive aspects and this is something the ISSA steadily talks about and supports, the progressive overload precept. Consuming a balanced eating regimen ensures that you just get all the vitamins you must feel full and glad, in order that conserving portion sizes underneath management turns into much easier. Protein primarily based dietary supplements are the most basic of bodybuilding dietary supplements. That said, those sensitive to drops of their blood sugar ranges, reminiscent of some folks with diabetes, low weight, or an eating dysfunction, in addition to pregnant or breastfeeding girls, should talk to a well being skilled earlier than beginning intermittent fasting. The most important life-style components allowing you to gain weight and muscle are ample exercise and correct vitamin. Protein dietary supplements like whey protein can also be helpful if you happen to struggle to get sufficient protein in your eating regimen. What distinguishes the masseter just isn't something particular in regards to the muscle itself, however its advantage in working in opposition to a much shorter lever arm than different muscle groups. Laying out weight-reduction plan meal plans allows an individual to look to the long run and to what will probably be eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner in order that at no point in the day is there a temptation to snack. There are a variety of Mass gainer products which have the heavy calorie loading to help good points however I come back to Labrada because the style is superb. To drop these extra kilos, all you want to do is eat within your calorie price range and burn the required variety of energy. They received robust by doing heavy Squats and Deadlifts That is how they increased their general measurement and muscle mass. Truth concerning the food regimen shakes is that they can never be a full-fledged weight loss aspect and can solely be supportive to some extent both being the part of a food regimen routine or often changing the breakfast or supper lowering energy consumption. 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Zadie Smith: dance lessons for scribes

From Fred Astaires elegance to Beyoncs power, Zadie Smith is inspired by dancers just as much she is by other writers

The connection between writing and dancing has been much on my mind recently: its a canal I want to keep open. It detects a bit neglected to report to, say, the ties between music and prose perhaps because there is something counter-intuitive about it. But for me the two forms are close to each other: I experience dance has something to tell me about what I do.

One of the most solid portions of writing advice I know is in fact intended for dancers you can find it in the choreographer Martha Grahams biography. But it loosens me in front of my laptop the same path I thoughts it might encourage a young dancer to breathe deeply and wiggle their paws and toes. Graham writes: There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a accelerate that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of epoch, this face is unique. And if you stymie it, it will never prevail through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how important nor how it compares with other idioms. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and instantly, to keep the canal open.

What can an artistry of words take from the artwork that needs none? Yet I often envision Ive learned just as much from watching dancers as I have from speaking. Dance lessons for columnists: assignments of prestige, posture, tempo and form, some of them obvious, some indirect. What follows are a few documents towards that idea.

Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire

Alamy; The Life Picture Collection/ Getty Images. Crown: Getty Images

Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly

Fred Astaire represent the elite when he dances, claimed Gene Kelly, in old age, and I represent the proletariat. The mark is immediately satisfactory, although it was a little harder to say why. Towering, thin and tasteful, versus muscular and sporting is the fact that it? Theres the obvious content of top hat and tails versus T-shirt and slacks. But Fred sometimes wore T-shirts and slacks, and was not actually that towering, this is the only way digested as if “hes been”, and when moving always shown heightened, to be gliding across whichever surface: the floor, the ceiling, an ice rink, a bandstand. Genes centre of gravity was far less: he stoops his knees, he hunkers down. Kelly is sanded, securely planted, where Astaire is untethered, free-floating.

Likewise, the aristocrat and the proletariat have differing relations to the soil beneath their paws, the first moving fluidly across the surface of the world, the second largest specific tethered to a certain blot: a city block, village representatives, a factory, a stretch of fields. Cyd Charisse claimed her husband “ve always known” which of these dancers molted been working with by looking at her body at the end of the day: bruised everywhere if it was Kelly , not a blemish if “its been” Astaire. Not simply aloof when it came to the field, Astaire was aloof around other peoples forms. Through 15 times and 10 movies, its hard to detect one moment of real sex friction between Fred and his Ginger. They have great peace but little hot. Now think of Kelly with Cyd Charisse in the fantasy string of Singin in the Rain! And perhaps “its one of” certain advantages of earthiness: sex.

When I write I detect theres typically a choice to be made between the grounded and the float. The floor I am thinking of in such a case is speech as we fulfill it in its commonsense mode. The communication of the television, of the supermarket, of the advert, the newspaper, the government, the daily public dialogue. Some novelists like to walk this field, recreate it, separate bits of it off and use it to their advantage, where others scarcely recognise its existence. Nabokov a literal aristocrat as well as an aesthetic one just ever put a toe upon it. His speech is literary, far from what we think up as our shared linguistic home.

One argument in defence of such literary communication might be the behavior it admits its own artificiality. Commonsense language meanwhile claims to be plateau and natural, conversational, but is often as fabricated as asphalt, dreamed up in ad organizations or in the heart of government sometimes both at the same meter. Simultaneously romantic and coercive.( The Peoples Princess. The Big Society. Make America Great Again .) Commonsense language claims to take its precede from the road parties naturally speak, but any scribe who truly attends to the room people communicate will shortly find himself categorised as a distinctive stylist or satirist or experimentalist. Beckett was like this, and the American columnist George Saunders is a good contemporary sample.( In dance, the pattern that comes to my thinker is Bill Bojangles Robinson, whose circumstance was tapping up and down the stairs. What could be more ordinary, more folksy, more grounded and everyday than tapping up and down some stairs? But his signature theatre number implied a staircase pressed right up against another staircase a stairway to itself and so up and down he would tap, up and down, down and up, exclusively surreal, like an Escher publication be submitted to life .)

Astaire is clearly not an experimental dancer like Twyla Tharp or Pina Bausch, but “he il be” surreal within the meaning of outperforming the real. He is transcendent. When he dances a few questions proposes itself: what if a figure moved like this through the world? But it is only a rhetorical, fantastical interrogation, for no mass move like Astaire , no, we are just move like him in our dreams.

By contrast, I have received French boys run up the phases of the High Line in New York to take a photo of the opinion, their backsides working just like Gene Kellys in On The Town, and I have met black girls on the A train swing round the pole on their way out of the slide doorways Kelly again, hanging from that eternal lamppost. Kelly mentioned the commonplace where reference is danced, and he reminds us in turn of the mercy we do sometimes own ourselves. He is the incarnation of our mass in their youth, at their most liquor and potent, or whenever our natural endowments blend ideally with our hard-earned abilities. He is a demonstration of how the prosaic can return poetic, if we work hard enough. But Astaire, where reference is dances, has nothing to do with hard work( although we know, from biographies, that he worked very hard, behind the scenes ). He is poetry in motion. His movements are so removed from ours that he adjusts a limit on our own ambitions. None hopes or expects to dance like Astaire, just as nothing truly expects to write like Nabokov.

Harold and Fayard Nichols

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Harold and Fayard Nicholas

Writing, like dancing, is only one of the arts available to people who have nothing. For 10 and sixpence, advises Virginia Woolf, one can buy paper enough to write all the plays of Shakespeare. The only absolutely necessary material in dance is your own body. Some of the greatest dancers have come from the lowliest backgrounds. With many pitch-black dancers this has come with the complication of representing your race. You are on a theatre, in front of your parties and other people. What appearance will you show them? Will you be your soul? Your best self? A image? A typify?

The Nicholas friends were not street minors they were the children of college-educated musicians but they were never formally trained in dance. They learned watching their parents and their parents colleagues performing on the chitlin circuit, as pitch-black vaudeville was then called. Later, when they entered the movies, their executions were generally filmed in such a way as to be non-essential to the narrative, so that when these movies played in the south their splendid sequences “couldve been” snipped out without doing any harm to the integrity of the plan. Genius contained, genius ring-fenced. But likewise genius undeniable.

My talent was the weapon, insisted Sammy Davis Jr, the influence, the course for me to fight. It was the one behavior I might hope to affect a followers pondering. Davis was another chitlin hoofer, originally, and from straitened environments. His logic here is very familiar: it is something of an article of faith within the kinds of class who have few other resources. A baby tells her children to be twice as good, she tells them to be indisputable. My father used to say something like it to me. And when I watch the Nicholas brethren I think of that traumatic teach: be twice as good.

The Nicholas brothers were numerous, numerous importances better than anybody else. They were better than anyone has a right or need to be. Fred Astaire called their routine in Stormy Weather the greatest example of cinematic dance he ever attend. They are developing down a giant staircase doing the separates as if the splits is the commonsense behavior to get somewhere. They are impeccably garmented. They are more than representing they are excelling.

But I always visualize I discern a little difference between Harold and Fayard, and it interests me; I take it as a kind of lesson. Fayard seems to me more concerned with this responsibility of the representatives when he dances: he looks the part, he is the part, his propriety unassailable. He is formal, contained, technically indisputable: a recognition to the hasten. But Harold grants himself over to joy. His mane is his tell: as he dances it loosens itself from the slather of Brylcreem he ever put on it, the irrepressible afro scroll springtimes out, he doesnt even try to brush it back. Between propriety and joyfulnes, select joy.

Prince& Micheal Jackson

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Michael Jackson and Prince

On YouTube you will find them, locked in numerous dance-offs, and so you are presented with a stark alternative. But its not a question of stages of ability, of who was “the worlds largest” dancer. The pick is between two altogether opposite appraises: legibility on the one handwriting, temporality on the other. Between a gravestone( Jackson) and a kind of mirage( Prince ).

But both men were good dancers. Putting aside the difference in height, physically they had many similarities. Abysmally slight, long necked, thin-legged, powered from the torso rather than the backside, which in both cases was improbably small. And in terms of influence they were of course evenly indebted to James Brown. The separates, the increases from the separates, the invent, the glide, the knee bend, the schmuck of the head all been stealing from the same source.

Yet Prince and Jackson are nothing alike when they dance, and its very hard to bring to sentiment Prince dancing, whereas it is practically impossible to forget Jackson. It clangs irrational, but try it for yourself. Monarch moves , no matter how many times you may have discovered them, had not yet been conglomerate inscription in remembrance; they never seem quite fixed or saved. If person asks you to dance like Prince, what will you do? Spin, possibly, and do the divides, if youre able. But there wont appear to be anything especially Prince-like about that. Its strange. How are you able dance and dance, in front of thousands of beings, for years, and still seem like trade secrets simply I know?( And isnt it the instance that to be a Prince fan is to feel that Prince was your secret alone ?)

I never went to see Michael Jackson, but I insured Prince half a dozen days. I visualized him in stadia with thousands of parties, so have a rational understanding that he was in no sense my secret, that he was in fact a celebrity. But I still say his demonstrates were illegible, private, like the performance of a follower in the middle of a room at a house party. It was the greatest concept you ever perceive and hitherto its greatness was confined to the moment in which it was happening.

Jackson was exactly the opposite. Every move he made was absolutely readable, public, endlessly facsimile and copyable, like a meme before the word existed. He conceived in likeness, and across occasion. He purposely outlined and then commemorated once more the edges around each move, like a polouse outlining a chalk front round a body. Stuck his cervix forward if he was moving backwards. Cut his trousers short so you could spoke his ankles. Grabbed his groin so you could better understand its gyrations. Gloved one hand so you might attend to its rhythmic genius, the path it punctuated everything, like an utterance mark.

Towards the end, his strange stagewear became increasingly tasked with this job of drawing and separation. It looked like a model of armor, the purpose of which was to define each element of his form so no push of it would legislate unnoted. His arms and legs multiply fastened a literal visualisation of his flexible joints and a metal sash leading left to right across his breastplate, accentuating the alteration of his shoulders along this diagonal. A heavyweights loop accented slim hips and subdivided the torso from the legs, so you discovered when the top and foot half of the body pulled in opposite tendencies. Finally a silver-tongued thong, making his persuasive groin as clear as if it were in ALL CAPS. It wasnt subtle, “there werent” subtext, but it was clearly legible. Beings will be dancing like Michael Jackson until the end of time.

But Prince, treasured, elusive Sovereign, well, there lays one whose figure was writ in liquid. And from Prince a columnist might take the lesson that elusiveness can possess a deeper beauty than the legible. In “the worlds” of words, we have Keats to remind us of this, and to express what a long afterlife an elusive master can have, even when residence beside as clearly described a illustration as Lord Byron. Prince represents the inspiration of the moment, like an ode composed to captivate a guide superstar. And when the humor changes, he changes with it: another good lesson.

Theres no democracy in has become a tombstone. Better to be the guy still jamming in the wee hours of the house party, and though everybody movies it on their phones no one demonstrates quite able to captivate the essence of it. And now hes get, having escaped us one more time. I dont contend Rulers epitome wont last-place as long as Jacksons. I merely say that in our minds it will never be as distinct.

Janet Jackson Madonna Beyonce

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Janet Jackson/ Madonna/ Beyonc

These three dont exactly invite transcripts they demand them. They go further than legibility into proscription. They extend hordes, and we join them. We are like those uniformed dancers moving in military pattern behind them, an anonymous corps whose errand it is to replica accurately the gesticulates of their general.

This was induced literal on Beyoncs Formation tour recently, when members of the general invoked her right arm like a shotgun, gathered the initiation with her left and the reverberate of gunshot resound out. There is nothing insinuate about these sorts of dancing: like the military forces, it operates as a word of dealership, whereby a decree meaning America, Beyonc presides over numerous cadres that span “the worlds”. Maybe it is for this reason that much of the crowd I heard at Wembley could be found, for long periods , not facing in the direction of the stage at all, instead turning to their friends and partners. They didnt need to watch Beyonc any more than soldiers need to look fixedly at the flag to perform their duties. Our monarch was up there somewhere dancing but the relevant recommendations of her had already been internalised. Friends from the gym put in cliques and ran their fists, girlfriends from hen nights passed inwards and did Beyonc to each other, and boys from the Beyhive screamed every parole into each others faces. They could have done the same at home, but this was a public display of allegiance.

Janet Jackson knocked off this curious phenomenon, Madonna sustained it, Beyonc is its apex. Here dancing is intended as a show of the female will, a concrete articulation of its reach and possibilities. The lesson is quite evident. My torso obeys me. My dancers obey me. Now you will obey me. And then everybody in the crowd reckons being obeyed like Bey a delightful imagining.

Lady scribes who invigorate similar piety( in far smaller audiences ): Muriel Spark, Joan Didion, Jane Austen. Such columnists give the same essential qualities( or illusions ): total limit( over their pattern) and no freedom( for the reader ). Compare and contrast, say, Jean Rhys or Octavia Butler, girl columnists much adoration but rarely simulated. Theres too much impunity in them. Meanwhile every convict of Didions says: obey me! Who operates “the worlds”? Girls!

David Byrne

Rex/ Shutterstock

David Byrne and David Bowie

The art of not dancing a crucial lesson. Sometimes it is essential to be awkward, clumsy, jerking, to be neither poetic nor banal, to be positively bad. To utter other the chances of figures, alternative evaluates, to stop making sense. Its interested in me that both these creators did their worst dancing to their blackest gashes. Take me to the river, sings Byrne, in square trousers 20 times too big, searching down at his jerking hips as if they belong to someone else. This music is not quarry, his trousers say, and his pushes go further: perhaps this body isnt mine, either. At the end of this seam of logic lies a liberating gues: perhaps nobody absolutely owns anything.

People can be too precious about their heritage, about their habit writers especially. Preservation and protection have their situate but they shouldnt block either impunity or theft. All possible aesthetic idioms are available to all families under the mansion of affection. Bowie and Byrnes evident adore for what was not theirs brought about by new inclinations in familiar dins. It hadnt arose to me before accompanying these men dance that a person might elect, for example, to converge the arch of a container hit with anything but the parallel bending action of their body, that is, with accord and heat. But it is about to change you can also repel: throw up a strange angle and suddenly spasm, like Bowie, or wonder if thats rightfully your own arm, like Byrne.

I think of young Luther Vandross, singing backup a few hoofs behind Bowie, during Young Americans, watching Bowie flail and thresh. I wonder what his take over all that was. Did he ever conceive: Now, what in the world is he doing? But a few concerts in, it was clear to everybody. Here was something different. Something old, and yet new.

Rudolf Nureyev and Mikhail Baryshnikov

Sipa Press/ Rex/ Shutterstock; Getty Images

Rudolf Nureyev and Mikhail Baryshnikov

When you face an gathering, which style will you return? Inwards or outwards? Or some combining of the two? Nureyev, so relentless and neurotic, so susceptible, so beautiful like a deer abruptly caught in our headlamps is faced resolutely inwards. You cant take your eyes off him, as beings like to say, but at the same occasion he is almost excruciating to watch. We experience we might snap him, that he might disintegrate or explosion. He never does, but still, whenever he leaps you sense the possibility of total catastrophe, as you do with certain high-strung players no matter how many times they lead or jump or nose-dive. With Nureyev you are an onlooker, you are a person who has been granted the great honor of being present while Nureyev dances. I dont necessitate this sarcastically: it is an honour to watch Nureyev, even in these grainy age-old videos on YouTube. Hes a kind of miracle, and is fully cognisant of this when he dances, and what did you do today to authorize an gathering with a miracle?( See too: Dostoevsky .)

With Baryshnikov, I have no horrors of disaster. He is an outward-facing creator, he is trying to satisfy me and he supersedes altogether. His face dances as much as his arms and legs.( Nureyevs face, meanwhile, is permanently lost in transcendent seeming .) Sometimes Baryshnikov wants to please me so much blaze even try tap dancing with Liza Minnelli, risking the sneer of the purists.( I am not a purist. I am delighted !) He is a charmer, an entertainer, “he il be” comic, dramatic, cerebral, a clown whatever you need him to be. Baryshnikov is both desiring and adoration. He has high and low modes, tough and soft constitutes, but hes ever facing outwards, to us, his audience.( See too: Tolstoy .)

Once I fulfilled Baryshnikov over a New York dinner table: I was so star-struck I is more difficult to pronounce. Lastly I asked him: Did you ever satisfy Fred Astaire? He smiled. He said: Yes, formerly, at a dinner. I was very star-struck, I hardly expressed. But I watched his hands all the time, they were like a assignment in themselves so sumptuous!

Swing Time by Zadie Smith is published on 15 November( Hamish Hamilton, 18.99 ). To prescribe a photocopy for 15.57, going to see bookshop.theguardian.com or announce 0330 333 6846.

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