#its an ok fuckery to advance over

[bachirasbodyguard]

can u give us some bloodborne/souls trivia

omg omg where do I even start. (no, really, where do I even start. the answer would be very different depending on whether you've played the game or no (I shall assume you have not??). also I will only talk about Bloodborne because there are too many DS games lol and Bloodborne's lore is way more interesting.)

ok ok so Bloodborne follows the player's character, The Hunter, who has been transported to and trapped in Yharnam, a city succumbing to the Beastly Scourge - a blood-borne illness that is turning its residents into strange and horrifying beasts. We, The Hunter, hunt them as we attempt to find and understand the source of this illness and put a stop the scourge.

The events of the game seemingly take place over the course of a single night, and the game has distinct stages depending on the stage of the moon. These moon stages affect the world, so no areas are exactly the same if you traverse them again as the night has progressed. For example, some enemies fall asleep, and some NPCs change as they succumb to the illness (or simply madness) as the night advances (such as everyone's favorite NPC, window guy Gilbert)

Bloodborne has a stat called Insight - it measures The Hunter's knowledge of the true world around them, above what mere humans can usually see and understand. The more crazy shit you stumble upon and the more important enemies you defeat, the more your insight grows. The game world that the PC perceives changes depending on how much insight they have - the more insight into the world and its true workings, the more the player can see. For example, previously invisible things become visible, enemies change or appear where they previously would not, things animate and come to life, etc.

The game has 3 possible endings (each with dramatically different implications for The Hunter). Which one the player will get will depend on how they interact with certain items in the game and on the player's own choices. One ending gives one extra super cool boss fight, and one gives 2 extra super cool boss fights hihi

There is a lot of like. cosmic level fuckery going on in Bloodborne. Nothing is as it seems and you should always doubt whether the places you encounter are the real world or no.

Random tidbit but I really love this: one of the objectively coolest and scariest monsters in the game is the Amygdala, named (and modelled) after the amygdala part of the brain which is responsible for processing fear (The Amygdala has a very important role in the lore, which makes all of this brain shit even cooler)

Big for me! The Hunter is canonly non-binary B-) (as shown in the bloodborne comics)

Why Bloodborne slaps and should be played by all:

Epic as shit

Fun. fast and interesting and intense

SP00KY in some parts

GREAT lore. (also very complicated lore. took me so many replays and so many hours of listening to video essays to understand it lol. in its essence it's a great & complicated story of human greed and foolishness, and our insignificance in the great scheme of things).

Strong vibes. Dark and gothic. mmm I love that shit. fuck!

it's all about the Lovecraftian-ism of it all

Cool & sexy outfits (every day I wish I looked like a Bloodborne character)

TRICK WEAPONS

Epic soundtrack (arguably contains the best ever FromSoftware boss soundtrack) (mmm when that Ludwig the Accursed/Ludwig the Holy Blade hits)

It's difficult and I like that. I don't like easy games.

& many more!

[madearmor]

BOY howdy.... i really don’t like a lot of tony’s history with 616 currently lmao. like, sure entertaining to read for some (re: the bear is the best and i love her and that is that on that) but mostly i’m not about that life bruv.

sometime this weekend i plan on etching out things i want to explore and things i definitely will not because i said so. highkey: there just won’t be a whole ‘im adopted?!’ thing happening. his being a stark and their family being chinese-hawaiin is important to this entire version tyvm.

[wearethewinx]

fate episode 6 spoilers below

admittedly that opening shot slaps. like that immediately makes me curious

bloom why are you looking. everywhere but at the glowing pillar in front of you

LOL WHOOPS

AISHA ARE U FOR FUCKING REAL. WRITERS ARE U FOR FUCKING REAL. THIS IS NOT MY GIRL

lol dowling thats what happens when u liiieeeeee

jfdlsfjlds terras dad being so stumped by her completely correct rebuttal that he just says 'you need to cool down'

'sorry you have to be visible to have a point of view' that line really made it into the script huh

theyre REALLY gonna make aishas first and only autonomous act in this entire show be to snitch on her friends

oh so there are witches huh. is that how were doing this huh. oh my god this is so unnecessarily complicated and confusing? this is. ridiculous? why wouldnt anyone else know about the witches? how does them being witches give rosalind the right to murder them all? HOW IS BLOOM OK WITH THIS LADY JUST SAYING 'yeah i lied and killed them all because only fairies are allowed to do magic' HWAT THE FUCK

*sky voice* i am literally so fucking stupid and boring its unreal

lol even sam is like 'terra shut up'

see i dont wanna be so mean to terra but shes explicitly written to be as annoying as humanly possible? people keep telling her theyre not interested and she just mows right over them completely not caring EVERY time

oh bloom is growing a braincell now huh

'only vanessa and michael could give you love' YOU CALL THAT LOVE? YOU CALL THAT SHIT LOVE? WHERE ARE THE WRITERS ILL FUCKING KILL THEM

me, every time: weve gotta be getting close to the end now right weve been here at least forty minutes

the timestamp, every time: 21:30

HOW is it possible for a show to drag this much? six hours feels like 18

nobody told the caption writer that rivens name is riven not 'riv'

stella being like 'WE shouldve never gotten back together WE are codependent and toxic' gurl,,,,,,,, You

rly have to stress that bloom listened to rosalind talk and was like 'oh genocide? well thats totally understandable, i trust you implicitly. here i was thinking you were just a regular mass murderer!'

WHY ARE THERE NO MAGIC PAINKILLERS. WHY IS THE ONLY WAY TO EASE SOMEONES PAIN FOR MUSA SPECIFICALLY TO TAKE IT ON

ALSO TERRA FUCK. YOU. FOR EVEN THINKING THAT, MUCH LESS SAYING IT OUT LOUD

how does the solarian royal family have a magic teleportation ring but they cant move troops across their country in less than 2 days

*bloom voice* come on sluts im gonna put you all in danger

PLEASE let sky miserably wail 'YOU KILLED MY FATHER' please god let it happen PLEASE

damn ok i actually REALLY like skys reaction here. unironically well written, very believable. even a stopped brain has good ideas twice an episode i suppose

love that musa only gets dignified with the slightest sliver of backstory in this, the final episode

STILL only HALFWAY THROUGH THE EPISODE. THIS IS SICK TIME DILATION FUCKERY

flora isnt supposed to be the loose canon of the winx for fucks sake

ok but WHAT ARE THE BURNED ONES. WHERE ARE THEY FROM. WHY DO THEY CARE ABOUT BLOOM. EVEN SHE HASNT ASKED YET! ARENT YOU CURIOUS ISNT ANYBODY CURIOUS

bloom: yeah rosalind unleashed the burned ones to attack us all but i totally trust that she told me the truth about how to stop them

blooms wings look FUCKING STUPID those arent even wings theyre just random red blobs with a mesh pattern

i guess im glad we actually GOT wings but my god is this a disappointment as wings go

also @ everyone in the tag calling this a 'transformation': are we watching the same fucking show lol. having fire swirl around you isnt a transformation. TRANSFORMING. is what makes it a transformation. absolutely nothing changes about her except having a couple blowtorches on her back

CANT STRESS ENOUGH THAT BLOOM KEEPS HEARING PEOPLE ADMIT TO MURDER AND RESPONDING WITH 'OH it was just MURDER lol thank god'

'bloom transformed' nO SHE DIDNT THAT WASNT A TRANSFORMATION OH MY GOD

ok but why WOULDNT rosalind reveal exculpatory information when it benefited her lol. why are you idiots believing her. why are you accepting that as a justification

'ive been a brat' OH SO YOU ADMIT IT

'can we hug' very normal request bloom especially considering the circumstances /s

my mom would flip her lid if i invited four friends over w/o asking in advance and then put her on the spot abt whether they can stay the night, and thats WITHOUT the added context that BLOOMS MOM THINKS THESE ARE HER SCHOOL FRIENDS FROM S W I T Z E R L A N D AND THAT THEY WOULDVE HAD TO FLY ACROSS THE OCEAN TO GET THERE

this bloom family montage is 1: unearned (i remember the door, assholes) and 2: TOO long and cheesy

i love that stellas mom still hasnt admitted shes missing or come looking for her lol. the HEIR to the THRONE has been MISSING for WEEKS and thats just Okay

lmao what the fuck. how is andreas wearing the same clothes as 16 years ago. anybody care to explain what the goddamn hell is going on here

dragonflame namedrop huh? interesting

LOL EVERYONES JUST ACCEPTING ROSALIND BACK WITHOUT QUESTION? SHE DISAPPEARED AND WAS PRESUMED DEAD FOR 16 YEARS

HOW STUPID ARE THE PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD

THE KING OF ERAKLYON. ABANDONED HIS SON. TO RAISE BEATRIX

WHAT IN THE GODDAMN HELL

omg she just fucking killed her

absolutely metal

ah HERE are the hideous outfits from the promo image. hate

final thoughts: this show is dumb

[unexpectedcronchiness]

part 10 of drabbles from the chat my dudes i love wolfstar

Big thanks to @remusjohnblack-fics for the idea and premise and sorry in advance for the bad french

remus knew that it could have been worse. "Bonjour", the word said in an aristocratic scrawl on his collar bone. Since he could begin even thinking about his soulmate he had decided that he would not be ignorant and that he would know everything there was to know about the language and country. but still, could remus ever visit france then? I mean it's hello, everybody says hello. if he were to go to france would it be the first person he'd see? Maybe that was what needed to happen? so he put it off, and continued his learning from afar. 

By 18 remus was an expert in everything french and decided it was time to meet his soulmate so he enrolled in a french university and hopefully that would be that. Tonight however, he didn't have to worry about any of that. It was his going away dinner with his family, and that was all that mattered. They were in a small, cheesy french restaurant that his parents had picked out ("you'll be able to eat good french food everyday darling, we won't, indulge us.") they were waiting for their waiter, the smells of fresh bread wafting throughout the restaurant. Finally the young man had shown up and, well, damn, to put it simply. Sometimes remus wished he hadn't decided to save everything for his soulmate (as many did, but others chose to experiment to see what they liked or to make their future soul mate happy) because when he saw the tall, aristocratic, silver eyed, raven haired waiter, he could feel himself flushing. His soulmate wouldn't look like that, he thought, a tinge of sadness lurking through him. Waving that odd thought away he turned his attentions back to the present. The waiter, sirius black, his name tag said. His handwriting was pretty, and a little familiar, wait-

"Bonjour" remus gaped, and his collarbone tingled, no,no, no way at all- "Welcome to bon voyage hunger, ill be your waiter for the evening, sorry for the wait..." his parents were listening happily, why should they be doing any different, he hadn't shared what his tattoo said, they just knew it was something french. And the way he said it, in the thickest faux french accent that only a british man could do and it all set remus off

"J'ai appris l'intégralité de la langue française, la culture française pour être putain de gentil et il s'avère que votre britannique et vous venez de valser ici" Bonjour "bonjour mon cul c'est de la connerie juste ici-"

(("I learned the entirety of the french language, french culture to be fucking nice and it turns out your british and you just waltz in here "Bonjour" hello my ass, this is some fuckery right here-"))

the waiter-sirius- gasped, and gripped his hand, and then started laughing, with an amused glint in his eyes. "well thats one mystery solved then" He grinned and continued "on dirait que nous avons eu la même idée, quelques faux français nous sommes" in flawless french

((looks like we had the same idea, a couple of fake frenchies we are))

remus flushed, he had not expected him to understand him, much less reply and oh god this was ridiculous they had both learned french to answer the other that had learned french just to answer- this was so confusing

remus's parents heads were whipping back and forth between the two of them, know something had just happened while also not knowing why their son had blown up at the poor waiter

"puis-je le voir ... votre marque qui est... voir voici la mienne" sirius whispered, pulling off his gloves

(can i see it... your mark that is... see here's mine)

sirius held his hand out for remus to read and sure enough, in remus's loopy sloppy cursive there was his paragraph. the words looks so small and bunched together and remus couldn't help but feel a little guilty

Remus nodded, slowly he took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and slid it over to the side just enough to make out the word.

Remus's parents gasped understanding what had just happened

Sirius gazed appreciatively over remus's collar, and then he looked up and caught remus's eyes. "so" he said breaking the silence finally and slid into the booth next to remus "my name's sirius black, obviously." he gestured to his name tag and in general. "what's yours darling?"

darling? remus thought, that was rather forward he sniffed. then he sighed because no it wasn't. "it's remus, remus lupin." then he added "snookums" dryly and deadpan, just for good measure.

sirius laughed at this "oh gods you're better than i ever hoped" this caused remus to blush "How can you say that we've only known eachother a period of practically 15 minutes that's ridiculous-" sirius cut him off "I'm an excellent judge of character, pudding" he smirked and popped the p on pudding, close to remus's ear. remus couldn't help it, he shivered, and blushed, looking away. sirius noticed this reaction and grinned to himself, obviously pleased but then he looked nervous "Besides, we've got the rest of our lives to prove my point...right?"

"well of course-" remus began but then the impact of sirius's words hit him

"y-yes" he said softly after a brief paus

someone cleared their throat

oh, whoops

mr lupin was looking slightly shook, but mrs. lupin was highly amused and she continued "well remus, i think we'll leave the two of you to talk then"

they got up and left "but- wa-wait" he protested meekly

"afraid of being alone with me then?" sirius joked, but remus could tell he was nervous that that was the truth.

"no" remus elaborated after gathering himself "not at all, pookie. It's just this was supposed to be our goodbye meal before i left for university in paris and-" "oh shit i shouldn't have interrupted maybe they're still outside we can go get them and wait did you say going to paris-" oh whoops remus thought again "nonono its ok, i mean you're my bloody soulmate, they understand and uh yeah, paris-" "oh thank god that's such a relief i had no idea how i was going to break it to you i was moving to paris for university either, thats a relief" sirius cut in, a weight lifted off his shoulders

then sirius added "muffin" for good measure

remus couldn't help it, he laughed, he laughed at the whole thing, it was rather ridiculous, he found his soulmate in a restaurant called "bon voyage hunger" and he didn't speak french and they had already dove head first into pet names and he was gorgeous and seemed like a genuinely good person, it was just too much

"ahem, so what university are you going t-o...in -pa-paris" remus started to say after he had gathered himself but started stuttering as he turned to look at sirius who was staring at remus with such an intense fondness that remus couldn't help but blush again. god dammit he'd practically spent the whole night with his newfound soulmate blushing and stuttering.

"hmm, oh um Paris college of art, i want to be a sculptor" "th-the paris college of art? you're serious" sirius grinned goofily at this and said "why yes, yes i am, pleased to meet you" remus groaned but continued "so am i, i want to study art though im not sure which area specifically yet, they're all so interesting and fun and i love them all theres too many but i don't have the money to major in literally everything and each of them convey emotions in such a different way and i just-"

remus was aware that he had started rambling but stopped when he felt a soft tentative hand on his

"that's bloody excellent remus, really" and then he looked nervous again. he seemed to constantly be switching between confident and apprehensive yet remus found it endearing. "and uh" he coughed, "you don't have to worry about money, i mean if you want you could study everything for the rest of your life and we could live, well uh, lavishly to say the least, um im kind of bloody rich i guess...." he trailed off, clutching remus's hand

"did-did you just offer to be my sugar daddy?” remus could not believe it

sirius laughed "not intentionally,and i prefer the term, caring supportive spouse to be , maybe to sugar daddy?"

"spouse to be, you're rather confident aren't you"

"i'm not saying we have to get married or anything im just-" "oh gods you already have a ring don't you" "-no!" "YOU DO" "no i doN"T" remus felt a surge of confidence and dug his hand into sirius coat pocket. sirius yelped at remus who was now practically on his lap "damn remus we're in a restaurant im not big int exh-" "aha found it!" remus pulled out a silver ring case and handed it to sirius "if you're going to propose to me, you better do it full on" this time it was sirius's turn to stutter and blush

"it wasn't supposed to be an engagement ring more like an uh" he trailed off, clearly embarrassed. Remus couldn't resist teasing him "oh, so you don't want to get married to me" he pouted, just a little "Oh gods no i want to marry you so bad i just didn't know if you would so it's it's more like a promise ring maybe?" that stopped remus in his tracks

sirius greatfully took the pause to gather himself and got on one knee "Remus lupin, shit i don't know if you're supposed to get on your knee for a promise ring, i don't know if im proposing or just- shit just,  i promise to be yours, do you want to be mine?"

"oui vous beau salaud" (yes you handsome bastard)

"but i refuse to get officailly married at 18, so you're just going to have to wait and sit your pretty little ass back down" sirius's smile glowed as he said "I would wait eternity and back for you remus"

THE END

[notfckincool]

DIRTY GIRL

-DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

NEGAN X ANA (OC)

A collection of short smutty stories. Strong sexual content.

Ana embarks on a casual but obviously filthy affair with Negan, accidentally falling for the man, knowing he will never love her. Angst and Kinky fuckery.

It's Negan so expect swearing, violence and sexual content throughout.

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

Negan x Ana (OC)

Ana and Negan have come to a secret arrangement.

Warnings dirty talk, Public mutual masturbation, fingering, spanking, oral, orgasm denial, butt stuff

Look at him, just look at him. I can't help but stare as Negan swaggers past, Lucille nestled casually on his broad shoulder. I have a head full of dirty thoughts.. again. I want to be where she is, my lips and tongue trailing over his tan skin, my teeth nipping and teasing as I press our hot naked bodies together... My eyes drift over his neck, linger on that protruding Adams apple, up over his salt and pepper beard. I want to lick those fucking dimples, taste his lips one more time. I want to...

"You OK?"

Lily's voice, suddenly at my side tears me rudely away from my fantasy.

"You were in a world of your own then" she chuckles

"Yeah, just going over a few things in my head" I glance away smiling to myself.

Better concentrate. We're on official Savior business at the Hilltop and I have work to do. I love to watch him though, keeping everyone in order, getting shit done. My super hot Alpha male. Well, not really mine, but at least I sometimes get him to myself when we're away from the Sanctuary.

Ana and Negan's dirty little secret. 

Rules are rules, Savior or wife, but we made our own arrangement. I know, I know, he's the boss, he does what, and who, he wants. He doesn't give a fuck if people know who he's fucking, but I like to think it's for me, to make my life easier as a Savior, and to gain the respect as one of his best soldiers that I would never have had as just one of his wives. Plus, I love the element of danger. I get turned on by the public flirting and dirty talk, the snatched quick fucks in the back of a truck, an empty building or against a tree. The risk of getting caught in the middle of raw, passionate, animalistic sex excites me,.. and it feels illicit while the wives wait at home. He's addictive, and I always want more.

Throughout the day he catches me watching him, his dark eyes meeting mine with an unnerving intensity, before giving me his trademark smirk.

Later, during a meeting with his top guys, he stands behind me, resting his hand casually on my shoulder. As he gives out instructions his thumb secretly caresses the exposed skin on the back of my neck. My whole body tingles at his slightest touch and I struggle to maintain my composure. He enjoys the slow torture and continues his monologue, The Saviors listening intently, blissfully unaware as I silently squirm.

The meeting concludes and they start to disperse. As we watch them leave, his grip tightens to a gentle squeeze of my neck. My body reacts, I can't stop myself, and I roll my hips, subtly grinding my ass against him, smiling triumphantly as I feel him twitch against me, before I turn and walk away.

I love my job but the day is dragging on with him constantly on my mind. My thoughts invaded by images of him, of his scent, and the feel and taste of him. My imagination is running riot, my panties becoming uncomfortably wet.

I admire him as he directs Saviors and Hilltop residents, all nodding obediently before scurrying away. As he stands alone surveying his surroundings I take the opportunity to approach him.

"May I speak with you a moment" I call as I saunter over.

He turns and watches me, a small smile playing on his lips

"What do you need Ana" he smirks, looking down at me as I stand before him.

"I just wanted to say.. "

I look up at him looming over me and lean in towards his ear, lowering my voice to little more than a whisper as I slide my hand into his trouser pocket.

".. that I love watching you work.. "

A rub of my hand on his thigh, a slight brush against his balls makes him bite at his lip.

".. the way you take charge, always in control..." His eyes narrow, his smirk widens

"mmm.. Makes me all... wet"

His tongue slides out between his teeth and he opens his mouth to speak, only to be cut short by Simon striding quickly towards us. He withdraws my hand from his pocket with a frown, I look down at my feet concealing my disappointment.

"We'll continue this talk later Ana" he says, turning to address Simon.

Thanks Simon. I nod and walk away to continue with my duties, occasionally stealing a glance in his direction as he talks. I'm entranced by his mannerisms, his confident posture, the authority he exudes. I think about his lips on me, the way my body responds to his touch, the need to feel him inside me. I need to stay focused but it's all I can think about, a desperate heat building inside me.

The conversation ends and suddenly he's heading towards me, passing behind me, adding fuel to the fire growing deep in my stomach when he gives my ass a cheeky squeeze and leans in to me

"Can't wait to eat that ass later" he growls in my ear before chuckling and walking away.

How the fuck am I supposed to work now? The things this man does to me. I visualise his mouth on me. I'm struggling to hold it together, trying to look normal and busy and not in a blissful sexual fantasy world. Time slowly ticks by and my need for him increases with every passing minute.

"Ana"

I get a rush of excitement as I hear him call and look up to see him beckoning me with his fingers. I try to disguise it as I walk coolly towards the man who fills my mind with wicked thoughts. I notice Simon glaring disapprovingly as we move towards the Mansion, I swear I see him shaking his head. Hands on hips he turns away.

"Ana... " Negan's voice is low as he stares down at me and leans into the wall.

"... Have you done everything I asked you to do?"

"Almost" I smile, gazing up at him "I'm having trouble concentrating though" my hands move to his belt

"Get it done." he says firmly moving my hands away. "Then," he adds "maybe you can have your reward" his tongue sneaks out onto his bottom lip

"You are such a fuckin tease." I chuckle looking down at my feet

Putting his fingers under my chin he raises my head, his eyes meeting mine.

"Yeah, I am" he grins "cos I know what my dirty girl wants." He runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he observes me. "Do as I tell you, and If you behave," he moves in closer "I'm gonna fuck you deep, and hard, and rough, just how you fuckin like it"

Jesus fucking christ! My stomach tightens, I visibly quiver. He enjoys doing this to me, teasing me, making me wait.

"I want you right now" I bite on my lip, grab back hold of his belt, hooking my fingers inside the top of his waistband.

"Darlin, the Sanctuary doesn't run its fuckin self. We finish here, then we fuck. "

"I can't stop thinking about you." I continue, my eyes travel over his strong features settling on his lips. " I really want to kiss you" I move closer to him. He tilts his head back, away from my advances, his gloved hand presses on my lips.

"You know the rules" he looks stern "If you're not my wife, we don't kiss"

His hand lingers on my lips a while before sliding down to my throat, the cool leather caresses my skin as he strokes his thumb across my jaw.

"Ugh." I complain, inhaling deeply " I just can't get enough of you"

"We're fucking like rabbits!...Girl you're insatiable" he smirks shaking his head. ".. But we have fuckin work to do, you know that comes first" he glances back and I see Simon glaring over at us.

I ignore Simon's stare and the people milling around and stroke the skin just inside his waistband

"Ana, we gotta keep our shit together." he warns

"I just want to feel you.. " I glance down at his belt, unfastening the buckle before looking back up at him from under my lashes ".. feel your big cock in my hand."

He shifts slightly, his eyes not leaving mine.

"You'd like that huh? Here in front of everybody? You are a fuckin dirty girl, but rules are fuckin rules"

"but...." I pout

As the hustle and bustle of the Savior exchange goes on around us I slide my hand into the front of my own jeans. His eyes lower to watch me. Running my hand over my wet folds, gliding my fingers up and down, my eyes close and a small moan escapes my lips.

"..... I'm so wet"

"Ana" His voice is deep and low and I open my eyes to see him looking at me darkly "Behave yourself, or I will have to punish you"

"I was hoping you would" I retort

I remove my hand. My fingers lightly touch the lips I long to kiss, leaving a glistening trail before sliding into his jeans, wetting his hardening cock with my arousal . He licks his lips and groans as I stroke his length and rub my thumb across his swelling tip.

"I want you so bad." I continue, my thumb circles around him

" I just want to feel you inside me" I say softly into his ear.

"I want to taste you." looking up at him with lustful eyes "I want you to taste me".

His eyes bore into me as he removes his glove, his hand moving to my jeans, slipping inside, touching me lightly over the fabric of my panties, before pulling them to the side and plunging his fingers inside me. I inhale sharply at the suddenness, tightening around his fingers

"Fuck girl, you are soaked" he moves his fingers slowly in and out "but you are gonna have to wait, I have important shit to do" he smirks as he curls his fingers upwards.

I stifle a loud moan grinding towards him as my need intensifies, pumping slowly on his growing cock

"I can't wait. I want you to fuck me Negan." I pant a little as he works his fingers inside me. "Fuck me on Gregory's highly polished ornate desk." I smile wickedly. "Fuck me hard until I scream your name. I don't even care if everyone hears"

His breathing quickens as he removes his fingers, looking at me as he slowly puts them in his mouth, tasting me.

"mmm.. You are a bad fucking girl, I may have to put you over my knee, spank that sweet ass, teach you a fuckin lesson"

"I would enjoy that... sir" I smile teasingly

Without breaking eye contact I take his hand in mine, leading his slicked fingers to my lips, running my tongue up them, taking them inside my mouth and sucking on them. His eyes darken.

"Fuck, Ana." he growls "I fuckin warned you"

Removing my other hand from his jeans he fastens the buckle, takes me by the elbow, and marches me inside the mansion.

As we burst through the office doors Gregory jumps at the intrusion. The Hilltop leader tries to assert himself and sits proudly at his desk.

"OUT" Negan motions with his thumb towards the door

"I.. I.. I have some things I need to finish first." He stammers. He shuffles his papers importantly and averts his eyes down to the shiny wood, swallowing audibly

"Gregory. Get the fuck out. NOW"

The demoralised man quickly stumbles from his chair, hastily leaving the room, avoiding eye contact. Negan shuts the doors behind him, grabbing me by the wrist and leading me over to the desk.

He looks sternly down at me as he unfastens my jeans. Roughly he pulls them down to my knees and tugs down my panties. Pulling out Gregory's carved wood chair he sits himself down and pulls me firmly across his lap.

"Why must you constantly break the fucking rules?"

His voice authorative, he brings a hand down onto my ass cheek with a firm slap. It stings. I inhale sharply.

"I warned you. If you break the rules you have to be punished"

Another slap to the same spot, my skin begins to warm and burn.

"The rules are for EVERYONE" he emphasises

The third strike is harder. I flinch and yelp and wriggle as the burning intensifies.

"Keep still." he orders, though his voice is calm as he holds me tightly on his lap, rubbing at my ass which is now hot and sore. I don't know how many he plans on giving me, how much longer this will go on. I fight the urge to move against him.

"YOU are a bad. Fuckin. Girl. You need to be taught a lesson"

A fourth makes my eyes water, I bite my lip instinctively as I try not to call out. He's right. I am. Always pushing the boundaries, always getting myself into trouble.

"One more for your disobedience. Ana, you have to learn some self control."

A long pause makes the seconds feel like minutes.

I wait, anticipating the sweet sting and burn. The throbbing pain only adds to my pleasure. I ache for him. My stomach is tightening, my senses heightened, my arousal pooling, and I struggle to keep still, grateful for his powerful hold on me.

At last he delivers the last spank. I cry out. The sound of my voice and the slap of his hand reverberates around the elegant room. There's a moment of still silence as I blink back the small tear forming at the corner of my eye. With an uncharacteristic light touch, he gently massages my tender skin, his voice softening.

"I will help you learn"

His hand slowly moves down, hovering above my folds

"Teach you to be patient"

His fingers linger across my skin, ghost over my dripping entrance.

"Would you like that? Will you try to be my good girl?"

Desperate for some kind of friction I nod enthusiastically.

"I'm gonna need to hear an answer" I can feel him smirking down at me

"Yes" I whimper

He lets out a low groan as his fingers finally dip inbetween my folds, sliding tantalisingly slowly up and down, brushing almost against my clit, teasing my entrance. I quiver, say nothing, deny my urges, stay as still as possible. I'm rewarded with two fingers gradually pushing inside, pumping deliberately slowly.

"You need to understand who is in charge here" he says softly as his fingers withdraw and move towards my clit, circling gently.

"Do you understand?"

"Mhm" I mumble through a clenched jaw

"Good girl" he praises as his coated fingers slide up past my entrance towards my ass, stroking over the hole. He circles and teases the tight entrance before his wet hand moves across my sore cheeks, cooling and soothing them. He chuckles to himself as he continues toying with me, spreading my arousal, teasing my clit and my ass. I feel him hardening, pressing against me. I fight the overwhelming urge to push onto his fingers, to ask him, no beg him, to fuck me. I begin to shudder as a climax builds.

I'm confused, frustrated and lightheaded when suddenly he stops, denying me my release, and pulls me carefully to standing, lifting my shirt up over my head and casting it aside.  He says nothing as he bends to removes my boots, takes his time peeling my jeans and panties painstakingly slowly down my legs and holds my hand as I step out of them. Finally he turns me towards the desk, guiding my head down until my face touches the polished wood.

I glance backwards to see him sitting back in his chair admiring the view before moving my legs further apart and leaning forwards.

I feel his hot breath against my wet folds, the scratch of his beard as his lips move over my thighs, the nip of his teeth as they lightly nibble at my skin. He pauses. I moan softly.

"Patience darling"

The tip of his tongue presses at my entrance, sliding in just a little, withdrawing, then inserting a little more. I whimper. Unexpectedly he licks a long firm stroke up to my asshole. My fingers scratch at the table in search of something to grip as his tongue is circling and teasing. Back and forth he goes, a hot wet trail between my ass and pussy, teasing my clit, dipping his tongue a little further every time. His fingers slide inside me again, pump and scissor, withdraw and rub at my clit, as his tongue continues exploring me. The assault on my senses starts an uncontrollable heat building, my breathing quickens, my moans grow louder.

Abruptly he stops.

"What the fuck?" I whisper to myself as the heat rapidly dissipates yet again, leaving me quivering. Looking over my shoulder I see him leaning back into the chair, wearing a smug satisfied expression.

"I'm not done punishing you yet." he smiles stroking down his beard, wiping my juice from his mouth and chin, licking down his palm and fingers. "Turn around"

Pushing myself up I turn to face him, the heat subsiding but my desire increasing. I lean back onto the desk.

"I need you to fuck me Negan" I say defiantly, "Eat me. Then fuck me" I add breathlessly

Linking his hands together he chuckles as he rests them on his chin ignoring my demands.

"Sit"

He has me wrapped around his finger. I want him so bad I have little choice. I obey. Pulling myself up onto the desk, wincing slightly, I place my feet on his thighs.

He smiles, putting his hands on my knees, parting my legs, placing my feet on the arms of the decorative chair.

Leaning forwards he slides his hands up my quivering thighs as he moves in closer. He hovers above my hot wet core, his beard tickling and scratching at the sensitive skin. This slow torment, his lesson in patience is becoming unbearable.

I look down at him, his beautiful face between my legs. I can no longer control myself, grasping him tightly by the hair and pulling his face towards my aching pussy.

He plunges at me, I watch his tongue lapping, circling, stroking and flicking, his soft wet lips kissing and sucking. Almost immediately the burning deep inside reignites, the heat radiating outwards through my body. Gripping tightly at his hair I hold him to me as I begin to shake.

"Not yet" he stops and smiles "You cum when I say" his deep voice humming and vibrating against me "Have you forgotten who's in charge?

"please" I beg. I hear the sound of his buckle unfastening.

"Can you be a good girl for me? " he looks up at me, a finger dips into my wetness and circles my ass.

"Yes." I plead my breathing becoming erratic

"Will you follow the rules I give you?" he applies more pressure, I'm desperate, I surrender to him

"Yes. I will. Please"

"That's my good girl. You can cum now"

His fingers dive back into me, pumping and curling, another slides into my ass as he expertly sucks and circles my clit. My senses are overwhelmed, the fire inside finally exploding, sending shock waves through me. My eyes and head roll back, I convulse uncontrollably.

Shuddering and shaking he pushes me back onto the desk, Gregory's papers and antique possessions flying off and tumbling to the floor as he quickly thrusts himself into me, taking my breath away, fucking me through my climax.

He lifts my legs up onto his shoulders, pinning me to the desk, filling me up, hitting me deep inside, pain and pleasure combining as I ride the wave still rippling through me.

The sound of his grunts and groans mingle with my own, escalating as he ploughs into me harder, fucking me at a relentless pace. The historical desk rocks beneath us. The old men in gilded frames look on.

"oh God.. Negan"

Hard and deep, over and over

"Don't stop.. Oh fuck"

"Fuck." His jaw clenches

"I'm gonna cum... Fuck, Ana"

Withdrawing with a loud groan he shakes and stills, spilling his release in powerful spurts across my stomach.

"Fuck.... Ana"

His head thrown back he pants and waits for the high to subside, before breathlessly looking down watching the last ropes of his release.

"Was you imagining something like that? "

Still panting I nod and shrug before smiling innocently back up at him

"Yeah something like that"

He chuckles and pulls his towering frame up to standing, tucking himself away, offering me his hand and one of Gregory's papers to wipe myself with.

"So have you learnt your lesson?"

He fastens his belt and zips up his jacket.

"Probably not" I grin tossing the paper aside. "I enjoyed your punishment. Also I screamed your name pretty loud so I don't think it's much of a secret anymore"

His eyes narrow a moment, eyebrows furrowed into a frown. Shaking his head he picks up my panties and heads to the door.

"You are a bad girl"

"You wouldn't want me any other way" I smile

He smirks at me, tucking my panties into his jacket pocket as he walks out the door. 

DIRTY GIRL MASTERLIST

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Wonderland & Underland

ok it’s been a long while since I've done one of these so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. But that’s all unimportant.

Let’s get this started shall we?

EDIT: THIS POSTED ENDED UP 5 MILES LONG SOMEHOW I’M SO SORRY…

Some background:

Wonderland is a country on Fairyland, a planet in another solar system in another dimension accessible by most any manner of portal. 

Fairyland is a pretty silly name for it, its original name is Alfheim and it has been home to the majority of fae kind for millennia

Fairyland/Alfheim was founded by the First Fae, the literal first faeries ever born.

The First Fae were descended from literal stars, void, stone and raw wild magic floating around out  in space

They found Fairyland when it was just a barren planetoid with no star to orbit and terraformed it with magic, afterwards they stole some other planets to form a solar system, made their own star and boom called it home

Fairyland was eventually overrun by True Royals, the offspring of Elder Gods and Fae. 

It was rough and sent a lot of First Fae into hiding, before they could be hunted down and murdered 

Jack, Alice, and the Red Queen are all related. Alice is Jack’s grandmother on his mom’s side and the Red Queen is Jack’s great-grandmother on his father’s side (it’s complicated, time fuckery happened at one point)

if u have questions abt fairyland (or anything else for that matter) please ask, not a lot abt it will be covered in this post for time’s sake tbh?

ok so, the history of wonderland:

wonderland was “founded” (read: stolen from the First Fae) by an Elder God by the name of the Lifeblood

The lifeblood is the goddess of carnal desires (lust/love/sex), blood, (re)birth, hearts, fertility, and chaos

she founded wonderland but immediately gave it up to her 4 true royal children as a gift

Dusk (eldest, Queen of Spades), Clover (second eldest, prince of clubs), Shard (third oldest, prince of diamonds), and Diamour (Youngest, Queen of hearts)

All but the queen of spades previously held the title prince(ss)

Each had their particular peculiar “collection”

Hearts collected cores (the metaphysical “heart” of one’s soul where emotions are kept), dyed her clothing in the blood of her enemies, made a show of her brutality by beheading people in public 

Clubs was almost gentle, loved pets of all kinds (even sapient ones) and had a vast menagerie, he fed those that displeased him to his creatures 

Diamonds was a creature of greed and excess, everything he owned was gilded and golden, if it was expensive and strange he wanted it but quickly grew bored with his new playthings, he had the bodies of his enemies dipped in molten gold while they were still living and kept them as statues in his gardens

Spades... Spades was vitriol and death wrapped in calm smiles and offerings of tea. Cool and calculating, she studied combat, war, the arts, medicine and necromancy alongside her "womanly duties". She took a husband young and let him think he ran the show, she killed him a dozen times over until there was nothing left but screeching essence

wonderland was prosperous for awhile until Princess Diamour learned just how small a fourth was and decided that she wanted the whole country and killed her siblings one by one

Presumably she was under the control of the Wyrm Tyrant, an ancient Dracolich that wanted/still wants to take over the world and isn’t above commiting and number of atrocities to do it (it’s “dead” now, more accurately it’s a disembodied consciousness under heavy guard locked away in Hel but it still has reach and influence but that’s another post in itself)

After disposing of her siblings, Diamour crowned herself Queen and reshaped the country in her image and anyone who dared oppose her was beheaded in public as an example

Everyone else in the country was subject to Diamour’s Charm, an ability found in most True Royals to manipulate the emotions of their victims, after all it’s hard to commit regicide if you love your Queen so much you’d die for her

Overuse of Charm can cause withdrawal symptoms, or even brain damage

Wonderland was widely considered place of "madness" which could both be attributed to Queen Diamour overusing her Charm and the flagrant shows of decadence and sexuality that might have startled any human visitors

The Bloody Queen of Hearts was eventually usurped by a young Witch named Alice and a band of freedom fighters

The country was ravaged by war, and then ravaged by the Lifeblood who turned it into a wasteland after Diamour was presumed dead

Diamour was not dead, just locked away with other Royals in a complex prison-lock to protect the Looking Glass

The Looking Glass was a relic, an item made from the body parts of an elder god or true royal, that could peer through time and space and thus gave Diamour (and previously Dusk) a huge military advantage over her neighbors. As if having a monopoly on agriculture wasn't enough.

The present-ish:

Jack eventually opened the prison lock, killing the trapped royals and destroying the Looking Glass (there was a whole event about it awhile back that I need to go find and like… tag or something)

Diamour escaped and hid herself inside his body, gathering her strength and biding her time, eventually turning his heart into a soulstone crystal and enchanting it to be her phylactery

She later made herself a body using his blood (this was also a Big Thing that i actually DID tag, you can read it HERE)

After getting her ass handed to her by Jack several times she slunk away to some unknown region and really hasn’t been seen until recently

Since opening the prison-lock jack has been carefully rebuilding wonderland from the ground up and ruling it as Prince Regent 

Diamour, now “affectionately” nicknamed Queenie, has built her own kingdom in the abandoned catacombs and buried First Fae castles far below wonderland

Ok now that i have you all up to speed, lemme get down to the real nitty-gritty

Wonderland NOW:

Obligatory Pinterest board so you can understand the aesthetic better

Now that it’s under jack’s control it’s a lot softer than it used to be

Surrounded by a giant living wall made of magical metal and thorns  

Populated almost solely by test subjects jack saved from delta facility, some Andrids and a few other people that decided that they wanted to live there

More technologically advanced than it was in the past, earthly cars have been converted to run on liquid magic instead of gas, there are condensers that suck ambient magic out of the air and turn it into a more usable liquid form

The architecture is more or less the same it was when Diamour ruled, very one with nature, hard to spot from the air unless you know what you’re looking for. 

Houses built into trees/mushrooms or underground as burrows

Lots and lots of plants, GIANT plants, thanks to the volcanic ash and old magic in the soil even the most mundane plants get MASSIVE if planted in wonderland

Oh yeah wonderland sits on top of a mostly dormant-ish volcano, there are hotsprings scattered all over the place and the beaches have black sand but it hasn’t erupted in millennia so it’s fine… probably

The crater left over from the last time the volcano erupted is now an inland sea of considerable size that provides seafood and salt to the rest of wonderland

Has the potential to be an agricultural powerhouse if jack can ever get the hang of food production on such a massive scale

There’s a railway but it’s in serious need of repair and renovation

Jack promotes the worship of the Lifeblood since she IS a fertility goddess and doesn’t really ask much besides a few (animal) sacrifices in her name

Wonderland’s main exports are: tea, flowers, tobacco products, hemp, mushrooms, sea food, sea salt, silk, wool, honey, milk, fruits, vegetables, and a few exclusive things like jubjub bird eggs, tulgey wood, tulgey seed oil, and raw magical energy

Underland:

Obligatory Pinterest board so you can understand the aesthetic better

Created by diamour after she realized that it’d be way too much trouble to fight jack for control of wonderland

Effectively “wonderland 2” as far as Diamour is concerned

Located below wonderland the abandoned catacombs, caverns, lava tubes and buried First Fae castles literally under the land

Diamour no longer uses her Charm to help her rule, and has stopped brutally murdering people that disagree with her (for now)

It is unknown if she has turned over a new leaf or if she's just biding her time

Surrounded by old mines and mineshafts that allow eerily complete access to much of the surface, allowing Diamour and her followers to bounce around wonderland totally unseen

Populated by any number of folks descended from the original wonderlandians, succubi/incubi, goblins,vampires, and just anyone who’s looking for a good time

A giant, near-constant bacchanal (her mom is the goddess of carnal desires after all)

A lot of their tech is goblin in nature, specifically earthborn goblins that know how to keep up with things. That is to say, kingdom-wide Wifi babes.

Architecture is a little showy, most structures are carved from the surrounding stone and accented with metals and gems of varying worth. Sure paint is cheaper but the gems and metal shine in whatever light is present and make a bigger statement 

A lot of buildings are built into stalagmites or stalactites, the ones that aren't are cobbled together from loose stones, built into the mineshafts, or hang from the cave roof on chains to safe floor-space

Any plants down here are either some sort of fungus/moss/mold, or are magically modified to grow underground which is difficult and time consuming 

It’s all very whimsical, lots of plants and fungi have biolume and are often used as living streetlights 

In terms of weather, the cave system allows enough condensation for fog and occasionally rain but not much else. It’s cold, wet and dark.

Worship of the Lifeblood is alive and well, with orgies and sacrifices being held in her name on an almost daily basis

The first wonderland was thought mad for its shows of sexuality and decadence but underland makes that look like an absolute joke

There are feasts, orgies, literal fountains of booze, parades, drugs and other parties at varying levels of debauchery being held every day

Despite all of this, underland is very dependent on trade and tourism

Underland’s main exports are: alcohol, spider silk, elysium (a potent, highly addictive faeire drug, sometimes called “the saffron of narcotics”), precious metals and gems 

[silverskulltula]

if you're still taking numbers for ye zelda questionnaire - 1, 3, 5, 8, 11, 15?

1. Top 3 incarnations of Link?

Breath of the Wild

Twilight Princess

Wind Waker

Keep in mind that each of these so are fucking close to each other that the list could easily be interchangeable. Breath of the Wild speaks for itself - there’s no sort of flowery wordsmithery that I can conjure that would be worthy of Link’s portrayal in that game, so in essence - it’s gud.

I covered Twilight Princess a bit in the last ask! I love my ranch-hand, pumpkin-eating, wholesome-big-brother Link to the death.

I considered putting OoT for third but honestly? Wind Waker deserves it more. For all the shit Wind Waker got on release it should be commended for taking the series in all sorts of new directions. Link in WW is a child in way over his head. All he wants to do is to go back to Outset Isle and wear his lobster shirt and hang out with his grandma. But when given a responsibility way past his years, his acceptance of the task is both unwavering and effortless. Link is a child, which means that his mind is the purest it’ll ever be, and that naivety is his strength. He stands against Ganondorf - old, broken, and jaded, but still consumed with a lust for power. Link shows him that youthful optimism is not something fragile and fleeting to be lost in the face of the world’s cruelty. It’s an unstoppable force for good, and no matter the opposition, it will always prevail. One thing that I really like about Wind Waker and its sequels is that the games focus on change. There’s the obvious change from Hyrule into the Great Sea. There’s the change of the Zora into the Rito, the Kokiri into the Koroks, and so on. They all feature change as a catalyst for moving forward. Moving forward into uncharted waters to establish new kingdoms. Moving forward technologically to create new machines and improve people’s lives. Moving forward sociologically and politically by expanding the government (even if the Chancellor turned out to be a demon but ANYWAY). The WW-PH-ST trilogy shows that progress is propelled by youthful optimism, and that’s a message that I will defend to the fucking death. 

ANYWAY.

3. Favourite and least favourite companion?

CIN TOOK MIDNA AWAY FROM ME IN THE LAST ASK BUT THEY AREN’T HERE TO TAKE HER AWAY NOW AHA SO yea Midna is my Big Favorite. The evolution of her relationship with Link is enough to bring me to tears. Anything less of a companion would’ve cheapened TP as a whole.

It’s predictable, but my least favorite would have to be Fi. I appreciate that the Master Sword itself is given some depth and characterization but Nintendo definitely failed in their execution of that entire game. Navi was annoying but endearing, and Link’s journey to find her again in MM is genuinely heartbreaking. Fi was exhausting to listen to and IMO the game did nothing to create attachment to her. The only thing I’ll give Skyward Sword is that some of its bosses were pretty killer, but that’s about it.

5. was covered in Cin’s ask!

8. Top 3 villains?

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Princess Hilda (DON’T CRY TO ME IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW - IF YOU’RE READING THIS YOU SHOULD BE EXPECTING SPOILES GDI)

Skull Kid

WW Ganondorf was a very welcome expansion on the shallow, evil-for-evil’s-sake Ganondorf from OoT. It made sense that Ganondorf, born as a mortal and with his own life experiences, would harbor his own resentment of Hyrule besides his main goal of claiming the Triforce. You can feel sympathy for a man whose entire life has been haunted by death and suffering, even if he tragically became the embodiment of those very things in his quest to rise above them. I’m not saying that Ganondorf didn’t deserve his fate - just that (demonic cycle of reincarnation set aside) at one point there was a voice inside him that wanted to make things better for himself and his people, and that understandable want was tragically silenced by the evil desires of Demise’s reincarnated soul. I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT GANONDORF, OK.

Believe it or not I wasn’t spoiled on the end of ALBW and it made it all the better, so I’m genuinely sorry if my answer gave away the twist for you. I suppose that Hilda IS the realization of what would happen if Ganondorf was driven to evil by a desire to help his people instead of his own selfish pursuit of power. Hilda commits evil in the pursuit of good (saving her world and her people), and that’s enormously refreshing in a series plagued by absolute evil just for evil’s sake. Zelda and Link’s unanimous wish to restore Lorule’s Triforce is yet another moment in The Legend of Zelda series that will bring me to tears.

And Skull Kid. Man, I guess that all of my favorite villains have tragedy in common. Skull Kid, a puppeteer turned puppet, who is forgiven in the end by yet another young hero suffering responsibility and pain beyond his years. Again - the children prevail over evil, a core message of TLoZ that I adore.

11. Favourite Ganon/Ganondorf design?

My favorite characterization of Ganondorf is Wind Waker, but in terms of literal chronological progression I immensely love the change from Ocarina of Time Ganondorf to Twilight Princess Ganondorf. Debatable timeline fuckery aside, I was stunned once I realized that the Ganondorf in TP was THE Ganondorf from OoT and I was facing this fucker yet again. His characterization wasn’t as deep as WW but his development was apparent in his tactics. He failed before by directly attacking Hyrule himself, so now he’s utilizing the fanatical proxy that is Zant in order to utilize the might of the usurped Twilight Realm in his stead. Ganondorf is more calculating and cautious than his OoT incarnation, but his boss fights show that he’s still every bit as ferocious. And I find this older DADONDORF hot and I want him to beat me to a pulp and call me pathetic ok

15. Top 3 dungeons? 

Thieve’s Hideout (ALBW)

Snowpeak Ruins (TP)

Sandship (SS)

Thieve’s Hideout is a personal favorite (and that extends to the Thieve’s Town in ALTTP as well). Overall ALBW was excellent at shaking up the traditional Zelda formula and it did that in Thieve’s Hideout by giving you an NPC companion. She was something between an escort quest and a movable assistant who provided really sassy commentary throughout the dungeon. She added a lot of flavor to what could’ve been a cut and dry dungeon and I appreciate that Nintendo was able to think outside of the box.

Snowpeak Ruins is another odd dungeon in that it’s not actually a dungeon. The derelict mansion was a visually interesting setting for a dungeon and the final boss was an even further subversion of the typical formula. The whole dungeon was a welcome change of pace and it’s one of my favorite parts of TP.

Holy fuck, I have something nice to say about Skyward Sword???? For better or worse, Nintendo attempted to establish an origin for Zelda’s lore in Skyward Sword, and part of that lore is that an incredibly technologically advanced civilization predated the Hylians (expanded upon in a much more interesting way in BOTW, but it technically had the idea first). They showed this by allowing you to shift specific areas back in time by activating Timeshift Stones (which were light blue… like a certain Ocarina… that allows you to travel through time… a little detail that I appreciate). One of these stones encompassed an entire pirate ship that sailed on the desert by timeshifting the desert immediately around it back into water. I haven’t played Skyward Sword in years, but I remember having a lot of fun with the robotic pirate swordfighting duel along the bowsprit. And of course, the end boss was a goddamn SEA MONSTER THAT TORE APART THE SHIP PIECE BY PIECE, SO THAT WAS FUN. Again, for all of Skyward Sword’s failings, some of the dungeons were fucking awesome.

[apsbicepstraining]

The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions

Memorial Day Weekend is traditionally acknowledged as the kickoff for a summer of beach trip-ups, backyard beers and relentless tit sweat.

MDW is also my birthday weekend, which constructs my already skewed, drunken decision-making and self-care that much poorer.

This year was no different. Day drinking? Check. A nutrition of grilled meat and half-melted sugar? Check. Waking up in an outer parish apartment I’ve never previously seen with half an old sandwich in my handbag? Check.

Come the Tuesday following MDW 2016, I feel like someone replenished a Panera sourdough bread bowl with whisky, marijuana and repent and then left it in the sunbathe to think about what it’s done/ exhaustively curdle.

Is it possible to hop back into the scheduleof a responsible adult after a summer weekend of unadulterated fuckery?

I needed to be purified. For the coming week( ish ), I plan to document my seamless alteration into a well-rounded, health, sober human being who loves home cooking and early mornings.

Degenerates can have it all, too.

Tuesday, May 31: Welcome To A New Me, Assholes

7 am : I wake up, expecting to feel rested and revitalized from seven hours of sleep, except I live in New York City without an air conditioner. Forecasts say to expect warm, sunny days all week. I stand naked in my chamber and accept nature’s penalty for my miscreantbehavior over the weekend. 7:05 am : I turn on the rain. I plan to wash my whisker today because I haven’t in a few weeks. I’m starting to look like Johnny Depp I’m talking Captain Jack Sparrow Johnny Depp , not “Crybaby Johnny Depp and it’s not a sound I can pull off.

Before getting clean, I sit on the settle and suck cold coffee I stuck in the fridge the darknes before in an admirable ordinance of #MealPrep and #SelfLove. It’s merely OK.

7:30 am : After my rain, I silently praise myself for not only soaking my hair, but likewise scraping my legs. Unbridled feminine power is extending from my calves, which are a tiny bit lashed, but whatever. Nobody’s perfect.

I spray rose water( a hydrosol) with frankincense from Enfleurage on my face, justasmy bestie admonished. Herbraces once got stuck to my favorite sweater in front of our eighthgrade class, but now she’sa professional makeup creator, licensed aesthetician and semi-finalist on season 10 of Syfy’s Face Off.” If she told me it would build me eternally beautiful, I would fill my holes to the brim with goose poop and decorate thinner.

I pull my mane back because heat-free styling feels like a responsible move and slather SPF with zinc oxide on my sugared, smooth faccia to protect it from the sun that seeks to destroy its ageless glamour.

8: 15 am : I march to the nearest subway stop. Sweet Lord. It’s already so red-hot. Too numerous tacos from the nighttime before recur my bowels. 9 am : I arrive at work and heat up a packet of organic( ooooooooh !!!) instant oatmeal. I arouse in peanut butter and raspberries. I start to feel superior to anyone who devour a bagel this morning. Don’t they care about their own bodies? I do. I would NEVER consider putting that kind of drivel in my flesh temple.

I am a new lady brimming with self-respect. I would rather drownmy somewhat unblemished, 27 -year-old body in the shit hose from “The Shawshank Redemption”than load it full of simple-minded carbs and transfats.I am better than every human/ swine/ deity, nutritionally speaking.

10:30 am : I begin to sketch a breakup email to my therapist of nearly three years. This find counterproductive to my efforts to become the healthiest all-around Taylor, but I have no choice. My employer lately changed insurance carriers and my doctor only abides one type.

I consider living therapy-free. I’d have an extra 40 instants of period each week, and I wouldn’t have to hike to the Upper East Side for appointments. This tones, after nine years of therapy, like a welcome separate I may eventually be ready to handle.

Seconds pass. I embark Googling healers who admit my new guarantee, rapidly coming to expressions with the facts of the case a therapy-free life is a dystopian barren for me and everyone I love.

I’d likely end up dating a high school senior, going really into headbands as a flesh of self-expression, defining small-minded volleys to appear alive, counting calories from gum I ruminated as legitimate sections of energy and becoming one with my bed.

12 pm : I eat lunch, slapping sliced avocado and a mid-sized tupperware’s worth of homemade salsa on some rice patties. It’s all right, but it prepares me kind of thirsty. I realize I’ve merely had two glass of water in so far today.

Proper hydration is something health seeds( identify: Gwenyth Paltrow or the Moon Juice girl) take very seriously, likely. I suppose one day being that kind of wispy, elegant 40 -year-old woman whose surface incandescences and whose forearms examine just likethe small remains kids shove in the sides of a snowman. Totally achievable.

5:00 p.m. : I leader to the gym, fueled by a renewed feel of purpose and the disgrace that harasses one after a weekend of questionable choices. I run. I squat. I try to toss my hair behind my shoulders and snicker carelessly atop the treadmill, but my hair is very short and I cannot breathe deeply sufficient to chuckle because practice is hard. 6 pm : Each time I cleanse my hands, I put on Trader Joe’s Coconut Body Butter because I care about moisturizing now. It smells like dessert. It stirs my knuckles feel ridiculously smooth. My knuckles are basically astrapping young camel who’s precisely had his humps shaved for a big appointment, or something. 7 pm : I leader to Lowe’s to buy an AC unit for my suite, every inch of whichis charminglysunbathed in the winter and awash with unavoidable hellfirein the summer.I find a group that looks like every other unit and wait for my roommate, who’s hold back at her nannying profession, to come promotion me get this fatty bitch home.

I stand in the checkout expanse next to my large-scale girl buy, mutely praising those lucky enough to witness me expending $350 on something other than alcohol and fancy potatoes.

7:30 pm : My roommate, Charlotte, arrives at Lowe’s. We haul the human rights unit into a taxi and, formerly we make it uptown to our structure, haphazardlydragit up five flights of stairs to our apartment.

The whole seek leaves me feeling proud and physically destroyed. We soondiscover special bolts on our opening grate that won’t allow us to install the air conditioner until acontractor trips. So, fuck it, I guess.

8 pm : I snack a veggie burger patty and a container of sauted kale for dinner. So many nutrients! I want to die, kind of.

9:15 pm : Charlotte and I use the AC unit as a foot residual/ coffee table, and we begina series of dialogues so specific to our generation I think, for a moment, whether it would sound like system to my grandfather( or any other 84 -year-old because my granddad is deaf ).

Me: U can’t use the black thumbs up emoji, Charlotte, that’s racist.

Roommate: I feel bad shedding all my emoji white-hot. Like Hollywood.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) June 1, 2016

Remember where reference is all caused Cara Delevignenevne a Nobel prize for I approximate having almost a personality

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) April 20, 2016

Pitbull is proof the Harry Potter universe is jolly since he’s certainly retired Miami Voldemort.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) October 8, 2015

Sexism in Hollywood: no one asked for MORE David Schwimmer, hitherto here we are

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) May 5, 2016

I too wonder whether any of the dumb shit we say is proof Millennials are mankind’s salvation or itsfinal damnation. I decide we’re maybe the latter, but implant that thought deep in an effort to stay positive and shun stress-eating the box of chocolate almonds Charlotte has opened on the couch.

9:25 pm : My ex-boyfriend arrives to pick up the stuff he left at my accommodation before we broke up. I look like a sweatbeast and my leg is bleeding a bit, for some reasonablenes. I facilitate him carry his containers downstairs.

We chat. It’s all really mature. Extremely Calvin Harris and Taylor Swift, if Calvin Harris was a beautiful, half-asian human who insisted on accompanying his goddamn bike everywhere and Taylor Swiftwas 5’10”, willowy and born in 1989( this is an outright brag about how much I have in common with Taylor Swift ).

We are advanced humen capable of enjoying and losing without hysterium. My leg hemorrhages the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything.

12 am: I wash my face, spray it with rose water, brush my teeth, determined my frighten and contribute myself a big ol’ pat on the back for a epoch of task, healthful eating, evolve interactions, adult acquisitions and sobriety. I is certainly be able to pick up the slack from this weekend without breaking a sweat.

Wednesday, June 1: 24 Hours Might As Well Be A Million Years

9 am : POTATO CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST? COME ON, YOU WEAK, SWEATY BITCH. You know what? It’s fine. I’m fine. Part of self-improvement is acknowledging moments of weakness and not letting dichotomous thoughts to thwart progression. I’M STILL IN THE GAME. 1 pm : I steadily hydrate throughout the day. I ingest tofu salad with brown rice for lunch. I am sharp-worded, alert and full of energy. 6:30 pm : My improv team, Champagne Empire, rehearses a few stymies from my agency. After a few particularly physical scenes, I wonder whether I should have worn a short sundress on a show darknes, regardless of the fact that I remembered to put on bikeshorts underneath. 9:00 p.m. : I arrive at the theater an hour before my substantiate. What should I have for dinner? A gin and tonic with acquaintances? Sure, sounds great! 9:01 pm : SHIT, WAIT. 10 pm : Champagne Empire’s weekly substantiate begins. Without being provoked by another teammate, I decide to play the status of women whose legs were burned off by a chocolate fountain.

I drag my person around the stage by my limbs for 25 hours, realise it’s my fault for not only wearing a dress to this evidence, but choosing to play a flailing, horizontal persona for no reason whatsoever.

11 pm : All is not lost. There is one hour to save my era. I’m not going to stress out about perfection. I’m going to take each hour as it comes and allow my health choices to cleanse every last cell in my form until I have achieved a superior status of world. What’s that? My friends are having a few beers? SURE I’ll join! 11:01 pm : WAIT, SHIT. UGH.

Thursday, June 2: You’re Not Better Than Me

8 am : I am beginning work with an easy daylight ahead of me. I have no rehearsals , no shows and no air conditioners to drag up and downthe west back of the city. All of my fortitude and centre can be exploited to achieve the clean lifestyle that’s escaped me my entire life/ the majority of members of this week. 8: 10 am : Organic oatmeal and fruit for breakfast. I smile as I eat it, hoping the physical pageantrywill influence inner gaiety. It doesn’t because oatmeal is just red-hot, mushyplant matter.

Fruit is delicious and beautiful, but it’s not magic. Trans fatties? Those are magic.

Over the past few decades, the meat industry in its own country has obtained a method to deliver us orgasmically yummy plows made from ingredients that just characterize as edible.

Beyond plainly creating these considers, they found a method to addict the American people to them like cigarettes, if cigarettes didn’t preference like dry hound shit and, instead, savor like rich chocolate with a faint plastic aftertaste.

God bless America. I would dismembera live stranger with my bare hands for a Drake’s Cake.

4:00 pm : I pate to the gym, telling myself I just have to get through 40 times before I can leave and do what I actually want to do, which is anything else in the whole wide world. While pretending to try, I receive an email tell people I’ve been charged for a month-long Tidal subscription.

I certainly forgot to cancel it when the free ordeal resolved, and now I’m persisted paying for it. Even in my evolved, nutritious, semi-sober position, small things arefalling through the cracks and I’m starting to wonder whether I was better off waking up with my jeans on and my contacts suctioned to my eyeballs in my fully lit bedroom at 4 am most days.

6:30 pm : For the first time, I see Dumbo. It’s the neighborhood in Brooklyn whereDan Humphrey and his floppy-haired, Gin Blossoms-y dad lived on “Gossip Girl, ” despite being outlined as too good to live in any waterfront property.

I meet afriend to listen some live salsa music and watch babes dance( read: run in circles, mainly ). Here, sitting outside amonga cluster of Brooklyn children with cooler haircuts than me and their swank mothers who likely live in lofts nearby, a calm washes over me and I have the first substantial epiphany of my rebirth…

Friday, June 3: Fuck This Stupid Lifestyle Change

I don’t need to be better at living. I’m already amazingat living.

I have a relatively helpful magnitude from a commonwealth institution I begrudgingly attended following a substantial nervous breakdown at artwork school.

I have a task I enjoy and show up to every day in a semi-punctual, enthusiastic manner.

I have never missed a rent payment on anapartment I’m hesitantto show to gentleman callersbecause, fine, it’s like walking into an immersive trailer for “Grey Gardens.”

I have two floras in my room that, despite being half dead, are also half thriving.

I recently met, and then instantly deleted, two separate dating apps that attained me feel like a judgmental elitist/ future carnage victim.

I showered this morning.

Ihave a strong, positive relation with their own families, despite my mother’s evident outrage at the factI workfull time in an manufacture that substantiates my degree rather than livingin a youth hostel somewhere, elapsing my occasion doing whippets and watching old escapades of “Family Matters.”

I have never physically tortured or killed an animal or human, which I suspect is a concept the majority of members of us haven’t done, but that probably shouldn’t disrepute my achievement.

Self-improvement must be somewhat important, seeing as Americans waste billions of dollars per year trying to rift it, but perhaps, for the majority of us, it’s bullshit.

The version of adulthood I hoped to represent mine so many times is a fantasize that, formerly I actually tried to attain it, took me less than three days to vacate for something I basically understood from the beginning: Stop has become a dick.

Stop being a dick to strangers, to friends, to lineage, to your form, to your psyche, to the environment, to Anne Hathaway, to jerks and to enemies.

I’m tired, you guys. Life is tiring.

If waking up every morningat 4:45 am to shove a bunch of dry greens and ginger into a juicerbefore heading out for some cardio reaches you joyous, then experience your 9 am, in-office diarrhea break-dance knowing full well you’ve accomplishedsomething personally beneficial. If it doesn’t, fuck it.

Just don’t be a dick.

The post The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions

Memorial Day Weekend is traditionally acknowledged as the kickoff for a summer of beach trip-ups, backyard beers and relentless tit sweat.

MDW is also my birthday weekend, which constructs my already skewed, drunken decision-making and self-care that much poorer.

This year was no different. Day drinking? Check. A nutrition of grilled meat and half-melted sugar? Check. Waking up in an outer parish apartment I’ve never previously seen with half an old sandwich in my handbag? Check.

Come the Tuesday following MDW 2016, I feel like someone replenished a Panera sourdough bread bowl with whisky, marijuana and repent and then left it in the sunbathe to think about what it’s done/ exhaustively curdle.

Is it possible to hop back into the scheduleof a responsible adult after a summer weekend of unadulterated fuckery?

I needed to be purified. For the coming week( ish ), I plan to document my seamless alteration into a well-rounded, health, sober human being who loves home cooking and early mornings.

Degenerates can have it all, too.

Tuesday, May 31: Welcome To A New Me, Assholes

7 am : I wake up, expecting to feel rested and revitalized from seven hours of sleep, except I live in New York City without an air conditioner. Forecasts say to expect warm, sunny days all week. I stand naked in my chamber and accept nature’s penalty for my miscreantbehavior over the weekend. 7:05 am : I turn on the rain. I plan to wash my whisker today because I haven’t in a few weeks. I’m starting to look like Johnny Depp I’m talking Captain Jack Sparrow Johnny Depp , not “Crybaby Johnny Depp and it’s not a sound I can pull off.

Before getting clean, I sit on the settle and suck cold coffee I stuck in the fridge the darknes before in an admirable ordinance of #MealPrep and #SelfLove. It’s merely OK.

7:30 am : After my rain, I silently praise myself for not only soaking my hair, but likewise scraping my legs. Unbridled feminine power is extending from my calves, which are a tiny bit lashed, but whatever. Nobody’s perfect.

I spray rose water( a hydrosol) with frankincense from Enfleurage on my face, justasmy bestie admonished. Herbraces once got stuck to my favorite sweater in front of our eighthgrade class, but now she’sa professional makeup creator, licensed aesthetician and semi-finalist on season 10 of Syfy’s Face Off.” If she told me it would build me eternally beautiful, I would fill my holes to the brim with goose poop and decorate thinner.

I pull my mane back because heat-free styling feels like a responsible move and slather SPF with zinc oxide on my sugared, smooth faccia to protect it from the sun that seeks to destroy its ageless glamour.

8: 15 am : I march to the nearest subway stop. Sweet Lord. It’s already so red-hot. Too numerous tacos from the nighttime before recur my bowels. 9 am : I arrive at work and heat up a packet of organic( ooooooooh !!!) instant oatmeal. I arouse in peanut butter and raspberries. I start to feel superior to anyone who devour a bagel this morning. Don’t they care about their own bodies? I do. I would NEVER consider putting that kind of drivel in my flesh temple.

I am a new lady brimming with self-respect. I would rather drownmy somewhat unblemished, 27 -year-old body in the shit hose from “The Shawshank Redemption”than load it full of simple-minded carbs and transfats.I am better than every human/ swine/ deity, nutritionally speaking.

10:30 am : I begin to sketch a breakup email to my therapist of nearly three years. This find counterproductive to my efforts to become the healthiest all-around Taylor, but I have no choice. My employer lately changed insurance carriers and my doctor only abides one type.

I consider living therapy-free. I’d have an extra 40 instants of period each week, and I wouldn’t have to hike to the Upper East Side for appointments. This tones, after nine years of therapy, like a welcome separate I may eventually be ready to handle.

Seconds pass. I embark Googling healers who admit my new guarantee, rapidly coming to expressions with the facts of the case a therapy-free life is a dystopian barren for me and everyone I love.

I’d likely end up dating a high school senior, going really into headbands as a flesh of self-expression, defining small-minded volleys to appear alive, counting calories from gum I ruminated as legitimate sections of energy and becoming one with my bed.

12 pm : I eat lunch, slapping sliced avocado and a mid-sized tupperware’s worth of homemade salsa on some rice patties. It’s all right, but it prepares me kind of thirsty. I realize I’ve merely had two glass of water in so far today.

Proper hydration is something health seeds( identify: Gwenyth Paltrow or the Moon Juice girl) take very seriously, likely. I suppose one day being that kind of wispy, elegant 40 -year-old woman whose surface incandescences and whose forearms examine just likethe small remains kids shove in the sides of a snowman. Totally achievable.

5:00 p.m. : I leader to the gym, fueled by a renewed feel of purpose and the disgrace that harasses one after a weekend of questionable choices. I run. I squat. I try to toss my hair behind my shoulders and snicker carelessly atop the treadmill, but my hair is very short and I cannot breathe deeply sufficient to chuckle because practice is hard. 6 pm : Each time I cleanse my hands, I put on Trader Joe’s Coconut Body Butter because I care about moisturizing now. It smells like dessert. It stirs my knuckles feel ridiculously smooth. My knuckles are basically astrapping young camel who’s precisely had his humps shaved for a big appointment, or something. 7 pm : I leader to Lowe’s to buy an AC unit for my suite, every inch of whichis charminglysunbathed in the winter and awash with unavoidable hellfirein the summer.I find a group that looks like every other unit and wait for my roommate, who’s hold back at her nannying profession, to come promotion me get this fatty bitch home.

I stand in the checkout expanse next to my large-scale girl buy, mutely praising those lucky enough to witness me expending $350 on something other than alcohol and fancy potatoes.

7:30 pm : My roommate, Charlotte, arrives at Lowe’s. We haul the human rights unit into a taxi and, formerly we make it uptown to our structure, haphazardlydragit up five flights of stairs to our apartment.

The whole seek leaves me feeling proud and physically destroyed. We soondiscover special bolts on our opening grate that won’t allow us to install the air conditioner until acontractor trips. So, fuck it, I guess.

8 pm : I snack a veggie burger patty and a container of sauted kale for dinner. So many nutrients! I want to die, kind of.

9:15 pm : Charlotte and I use the AC unit as a foot residual/ coffee table, and we begina series of dialogues so specific to our generation I think, for a moment, whether it would sound like system to my grandfather( or any other 84 -year-old because my granddad is deaf ).

Me: U can’t use the black thumbs up emoji, Charlotte, that’s racist.

Roommate: I feel bad shedding all my emoji white-hot. Like Hollywood.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) June 1, 2016

Remember where reference is all caused Cara Delevignenevne a Nobel prize for I approximate having almost a personality

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) April 20, 2016

Pitbull is proof the Harry Potter universe is jolly since he’s certainly retired Miami Voldemort.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) October 8, 2015

Sexism in Hollywood: no one asked for MORE David Schwimmer, hitherto here we are

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) May 5, 2016

I too wonder whether any of the dumb shit we say is proof Millennials are mankind’s salvation or itsfinal damnation. I decide we’re maybe the latter, but implant that thought deep in an effort to stay positive and shun stress-eating the box of chocolate almonds Charlotte has opened on the couch.

9:25 pm : My ex-boyfriend arrives to pick up the stuff he left at my accommodation before we broke up. I look like a sweatbeast and my leg is bleeding a bit, for some reasonablenes. I facilitate him carry his containers downstairs.

We chat. It’s all really mature. Extremely Calvin Harris and Taylor Swift, if Calvin Harris was a beautiful, half-asian human who insisted on accompanying his goddamn bike everywhere and Taylor Swiftwas 5’10”, willowy and born in 1989( this is an outright brag about how much I have in common with Taylor Swift ).

We are advanced humen capable of enjoying and losing without hysterium. My leg hemorrhages the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything.

12 am: I wash my face, spray it with rose water, brush my teeth, determined my frighten and contribute myself a big ol’ pat on the back for a epoch of task, healthful eating, evolve interactions, adult acquisitions and sobriety. I is certainly be able to pick up the slack from this weekend without breaking a sweat.

Wednesday, June 1: 24 Hours Might As Well Be A Million Years

9 am : POTATO CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST? COME ON, YOU WEAK, SWEATY BITCH. You know what? It’s fine. I’m fine. Part of self-improvement is acknowledging moments of weakness and not letting dichotomous thoughts to thwart progression. I’M STILL IN THE GAME. 1 pm : I steadily hydrate throughout the day. I ingest tofu salad with brown rice for lunch. I am sharp-worded, alert and full of energy. 6:30 pm : My improv team, Champagne Empire, rehearses a few stymies from my agency. After a few particularly physical scenes, I wonder whether I should have worn a short sundress on a show darknes, regardless of the fact that I remembered to put on bikeshorts underneath. 9:00 p.m. : I arrive at the theater an hour before my substantiate. What should I have for dinner? A gin and tonic with acquaintances? Sure, sounds great! 9:01 pm : SHIT, WAIT. 10 pm : Champagne Empire’s weekly substantiate begins. Without being provoked by another teammate, I decide to play the status of women whose legs were burned off by a chocolate fountain.

I drag my person around the stage by my limbs for 25 hours, realise it’s my fault for not only wearing a dress to this evidence, but choosing to play a flailing, horizontal persona for no reason whatsoever.

11 pm : All is not lost. There is one hour to save my era. I’m not going to stress out about perfection. I’m going to take each hour as it comes and allow my health choices to cleanse every last cell in my form until I have achieved a superior status of world. What’s that? My friends are having a few beers? SURE I’ll join! 11:01 pm : WAIT, SHIT. UGH.

Thursday, June 2: You’re Not Better Than Me

8 am : I am beginning work with an easy daylight ahead of me. I have no rehearsals , no shows and no air conditioners to drag up and downthe west back of the city. All of my fortitude and centre can be exploited to achieve the clean lifestyle that’s escaped me my entire life/ the majority of members of this week. 8: 10 am : Organic oatmeal and fruit for breakfast. I smile as I eat it, hoping the physical pageantrywill influence inner gaiety. It doesn’t because oatmeal is just red-hot, mushyplant matter.

Fruit is delicious and beautiful, but it’s not magic. Trans fatties? Those are magic.

Over the past few decades, the meat industry in its own country has obtained a method to deliver us orgasmically yummy plows made from ingredients that just characterize as edible.

Beyond plainly creating these considers, they found a method to addict the American people to them like cigarettes, if cigarettes didn’t preference like dry hound shit and, instead, savor like rich chocolate with a faint plastic aftertaste.

God bless America. I would dismembera live stranger with my bare hands for a Drake’s Cake.

4:00 pm : I pate to the gym, telling myself I just have to get through 40 times before I can leave and do what I actually want to do, which is anything else in the whole wide world. While pretending to try, I receive an email tell people I’ve been charged for a month-long Tidal subscription.

I certainly forgot to cancel it when the free ordeal resolved, and now I’m persisted paying for it. Even in my evolved, nutritious, semi-sober position, small things arefalling through the cracks and I’m starting to wonder whether I was better off waking up with my jeans on and my contacts suctioned to my eyeballs in my fully lit bedroom at 4 am most days.

6:30 pm : For the first time, I see Dumbo. It’s the neighborhood in Brooklyn whereDan Humphrey and his floppy-haired, Gin Blossoms-y dad lived on “Gossip Girl, ” despite being outlined as too good to live in any waterfront property.

I meet afriend to listen some live salsa music and watch babes dance( read: run in circles, mainly ). Here, sitting outside amonga cluster of Brooklyn children with cooler haircuts than me and their swank mothers who likely live in lofts nearby, a calm washes over me and I have the first substantial epiphany of my rebirth…

Friday, June 3: Fuck This Stupid Lifestyle Change

I don’t need to be better at living. I’m already amazingat living.

I have a relatively helpful magnitude from a commonwealth institution I begrudgingly attended following a substantial nervous breakdown at artwork school.

I have a task I enjoy and show up to every day in a semi-punctual, enthusiastic manner.

I have never missed a rent payment on anapartment I’m hesitantto show to gentleman callersbecause, fine, it’s like walking into an immersive trailer for “Grey Gardens.”

I have two floras in my room that, despite being half dead, are also half thriving.

I recently met, and then instantly deleted, two separate dating apps that attained me feel like a judgmental elitist/ future carnage victim.

I showered this morning.

Ihave a strong, positive relation with their own families, despite my mother’s evident outrage at the factI workfull time in an manufacture that substantiates my degree rather than livingin a youth hostel somewhere, elapsing my occasion doing whippets and watching old escapades of “Family Matters.”

I have never physically tortured or killed an animal or human, which I suspect is a concept the majority of members of us haven’t done, but that probably shouldn’t disrepute my achievement.

Self-improvement must be somewhat important, seeing as Americans waste billions of dollars per year trying to rift it, but perhaps, for the majority of us, it’s bullshit.

The version of adulthood I hoped to represent mine so many times is a fantasize that, formerly I actually tried to attain it, took me less than three days to vacate for something I basically understood from the beginning: Stop has become a dick.

Stop being a dick to strangers, to friends, to lineage, to your form, to your psyche, to the environment, to Anne Hathaway, to jerks and to enemies.

I’m tired, you guys. Life is tiring.

If waking up every morningat 4:45 am to shove a bunch of dry greens and ginger into a juicerbefore heading out for some cardio reaches you joyous, then experience your 9 am, in-office diarrhea break-dance knowing full well you’ve accomplishedsomething personally beneficial. If it doesn’t, fuck it.

Just don’t be a dick.

The post The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2wqQhbW via IFTTT

[apsbicepstraining]

The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions

Memorial Day Weekend is traditionally acknowledged as the kickoff for a summer of beach trip-ups, backyard beers and relentless tit sweat.

MDW is also my birthday weekend, which constructs my already skewed, drunken decision-making and self-care that much poorer.

This year was no different. Day drinking? Check. A nutrition of grilled meat and half-melted sugar? Check. Waking up in an outer parish apartment I’ve never previously seen with half an old sandwich in my handbag? Check.

Come the Tuesday following MDW 2016, I feel like someone replenished a Panera sourdough bread bowl with whisky, marijuana and repent and then left it in the sunbathe to think about what it’s done/ exhaustively curdle.

Is it possible to hop back into the scheduleof a responsible adult after a summer weekend of unadulterated fuckery?

I needed to be purified. For the coming week( ish ), I plan to document my seamless alteration into a well-rounded, health, sober human being who loves home cooking and early mornings.

Degenerates can have it all, too.

Tuesday, May 31: Welcome To A New Me, Assholes

7 am : I wake up, expecting to feel rested and revitalized from seven hours of sleep, except I live in New York City without an air conditioner. Forecasts say to expect warm, sunny days all week. I stand naked in my chamber and accept nature’s penalty for my miscreantbehavior over the weekend. 7:05 am : I turn on the rain. I plan to wash my whisker today because I haven’t in a few weeks. I’m starting to look like Johnny Depp I’m talking Captain Jack Sparrow Johnny Depp , not “Crybaby Johnny Depp and it’s not a sound I can pull off.

Before getting clean, I sit on the settle and suck cold coffee I stuck in the fridge the darknes before in an admirable ordinance of #MealPrep and #SelfLove. It’s merely OK.

7:30 am : After my rain, I silently praise myself for not only soaking my hair, but likewise scraping my legs. Unbridled feminine power is extending from my calves, which are a tiny bit lashed, but whatever. Nobody’s perfect.

I spray rose water( a hydrosol) with frankincense from Enfleurage on my face, justasmy bestie admonished. Herbraces once got stuck to my favorite sweater in front of our eighthgrade class, but now she’sa professional makeup creator, licensed aesthetician and semi-finalist on season 10 of Syfy’s Face Off.” If she told me it would build me eternally beautiful, I would fill my holes to the brim with goose poop and decorate thinner.

I pull my mane back because heat-free styling feels like a responsible move and slather SPF with zinc oxide on my sugared, smooth faccia to protect it from the sun that seeks to destroy its ageless glamour.

8: 15 am : I march to the nearest subway stop. Sweet Lord. It’s already so red-hot. Too numerous tacos from the nighttime before recur my bowels. 9 am : I arrive at work and heat up a packet of organic( ooooooooh !!!) instant oatmeal. I arouse in peanut butter and raspberries. I start to feel superior to anyone who devour a bagel this morning. Don’t they care about their own bodies? I do. I would NEVER consider putting that kind of drivel in my flesh temple.

I am a new lady brimming with self-respect. I would rather drownmy somewhat unblemished, 27 -year-old body in the shit hose from “The Shawshank Redemption”than load it full of simple-minded carbs and transfats.I am better than every human/ swine/ deity, nutritionally speaking.

10:30 am : I begin to sketch a breakup email to my therapist of nearly three years. This find counterproductive to my efforts to become the healthiest all-around Taylor, but I have no choice. My employer lately changed insurance carriers and my doctor only abides one type.

I consider living therapy-free. I’d have an extra 40 instants of period each week, and I wouldn’t have to hike to the Upper East Side for appointments. This tones, after nine years of therapy, like a welcome separate I may eventually be ready to handle.

Seconds pass. I embark Googling healers who admit my new guarantee, rapidly coming to expressions with the facts of the case a therapy-free life is a dystopian barren for me and everyone I love.

I’d likely end up dating a high school senior, going really into headbands as a flesh of self-expression, defining small-minded volleys to appear alive, counting calories from gum I ruminated as legitimate sections of energy and becoming one with my bed.

12 pm : I eat lunch, slapping sliced avocado and a mid-sized tupperware’s worth of homemade salsa on some rice patties. It’s all right, but it prepares me kind of thirsty. I realize I’ve merely had two glass of water in so far today.

Proper hydration is something health seeds( identify: Gwenyth Paltrow or the Moon Juice girl) take very seriously, likely. I suppose one day being that kind of wispy, elegant 40 -year-old woman whose surface incandescences and whose forearms examine just likethe small remains kids shove in the sides of a snowman. Totally achievable.

5:00 p.m. : I leader to the gym, fueled by a renewed feel of purpose and the disgrace that harasses one after a weekend of questionable choices. I run. I squat. I try to toss my hair behind my shoulders and snicker carelessly atop the treadmill, but my hair is very short and I cannot breathe deeply sufficient to chuckle because practice is hard. 6 pm : Each time I cleanse my hands, I put on Trader Joe’s Coconut Body Butter because I care about moisturizing now. It smells like dessert. It stirs my knuckles feel ridiculously smooth. My knuckles are basically astrapping young camel who’s precisely had his humps shaved for a big appointment, or something. 7 pm : I leader to Lowe’s to buy an AC unit for my suite, every inch of whichis charminglysunbathed in the winter and awash with unavoidable hellfirein the summer.I find a group that looks like every other unit and wait for my roommate, who’s hold back at her nannying profession, to come promotion me get this fatty bitch home.

I stand in the checkout expanse next to my large-scale girl buy, mutely praising those lucky enough to witness me expending $350 on something other than alcohol and fancy potatoes.

7:30 pm : My roommate, Charlotte, arrives at Lowe’s. We haul the human rights unit into a taxi and, formerly we make it uptown to our structure, haphazardlydragit up five flights of stairs to our apartment.

The whole seek leaves me feeling proud and physically destroyed. We soondiscover special bolts on our opening grate that won’t allow us to install the air conditioner until acontractor trips. So, fuck it, I guess.

8 pm : I snack a veggie burger patty and a container of sauted kale for dinner. So many nutrients! I want to die, kind of.

9:15 pm : Charlotte and I use the AC unit as a foot residual/ coffee table, and we begina series of dialogues so specific to our generation I think, for a moment, whether it would sound like system to my grandfather( or any other 84 -year-old because my granddad is deaf ).

Me: U can’t use the black thumbs up emoji, Charlotte, that’s racist.

Roommate: I feel bad shedding all my emoji white-hot. Like Hollywood.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) June 1, 2016

Remember where reference is all caused Cara Delevignenevne a Nobel prize for I approximate having almost a personality

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) April 20, 2016

Pitbull is proof the Harry Potter universe is jolly since he’s certainly retired Miami Voldemort.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) October 8, 2015

Sexism in Hollywood: no one asked for MORE David Schwimmer, hitherto here we are

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) May 5, 2016

I too wonder whether any of the dumb shit we say is proof Millennials are mankind’s salvation or itsfinal damnation. I decide we’re maybe the latter, but implant that thought deep in an effort to stay positive and shun stress-eating the box of chocolate almonds Charlotte has opened on the couch.

9:25 pm : My ex-boyfriend arrives to pick up the stuff he left at my accommodation before we broke up. I look like a sweatbeast and my leg is bleeding a bit, for some reasonablenes. I facilitate him carry his containers downstairs.

We chat. It’s all really mature. Extremely Calvin Harris and Taylor Swift, if Calvin Harris was a beautiful, half-asian human who insisted on accompanying his goddamn bike everywhere and Taylor Swiftwas 5’10”, willowy and born in 1989( this is an outright brag about how much I have in common with Taylor Swift ).

We are advanced humen capable of enjoying and losing without hysterium. My leg hemorrhages the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything.

12 am: I wash my face, spray it with rose water, brush my teeth, determined my frighten and contribute myself a big ol’ pat on the back for a epoch of task, healthful eating, evolve interactions, adult acquisitions and sobriety. I is certainly be able to pick up the slack from this weekend without breaking a sweat.

Wednesday, June 1: 24 Hours Might As Well Be A Million Years

9 am : POTATO CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST? COME ON, YOU WEAK, SWEATY BITCH. You know what? It’s fine. I’m fine. Part of self-improvement is acknowledging moments of weakness and not letting dichotomous thoughts to thwart progression. I’M STILL IN THE GAME. 1 pm : I steadily hydrate throughout the day. I ingest tofu salad with brown rice for lunch. I am sharp-worded, alert and full of energy. 6:30 pm : My improv team, Champagne Empire, rehearses a few stymies from my agency. After a few particularly physical scenes, I wonder whether I should have worn a short sundress on a show darknes, regardless of the fact that I remembered to put on bikeshorts underneath. 9:00 p.m. : I arrive at the theater an hour before my substantiate. What should I have for dinner? A gin and tonic with acquaintances? Sure, sounds great! 9:01 pm : SHIT, WAIT. 10 pm : Champagne Empire’s weekly substantiate begins. Without being provoked by another teammate, I decide to play the status of women whose legs were burned off by a chocolate fountain.

I drag my person around the stage by my limbs for 25 hours, realise it’s my fault for not only wearing a dress to this evidence, but choosing to play a flailing, horizontal persona for no reason whatsoever.

11 pm : All is not lost. There is one hour to save my era. I’m not going to stress out about perfection. I’m going to take each hour as it comes and allow my health choices to cleanse every last cell in my form until I have achieved a superior status of world. What’s that? My friends are having a few beers? SURE I’ll join! 11:01 pm : WAIT, SHIT. UGH.

Thursday, June 2: You’re Not Better Than Me

8 am : I am beginning work with an easy daylight ahead of me. I have no rehearsals , no shows and no air conditioners to drag up and downthe west back of the city. All of my fortitude and centre can be exploited to achieve the clean lifestyle that’s escaped me my entire life/ the majority of members of this week. 8: 10 am : Organic oatmeal and fruit for breakfast. I smile as I eat it, hoping the physical pageantrywill influence inner gaiety. It doesn’t because oatmeal is just red-hot, mushyplant matter.

Fruit is delicious and beautiful, but it’s not magic. Trans fatties? Those are magic.

Over the past few decades, the meat industry in its own country has obtained a method to deliver us orgasmically yummy plows made from ingredients that just characterize as edible.

Beyond plainly creating these considers, they found a method to addict the American people to them like cigarettes, if cigarettes didn’t preference like dry hound shit and, instead, savor like rich chocolate with a faint plastic aftertaste.

God bless America. I would dismembera live stranger with my bare hands for a Drake’s Cake.

4:00 pm : I pate to the gym, telling myself I just have to get through 40 times before I can leave and do what I actually want to do, which is anything else in the whole wide world. While pretending to try, I receive an email tell people I’ve been charged for a month-long Tidal subscription.

I certainly forgot to cancel it when the free ordeal resolved, and now I’m persisted paying for it. Even in my evolved, nutritious, semi-sober position, small things arefalling through the cracks and I’m starting to wonder whether I was better off waking up with my jeans on and my contacts suctioned to my eyeballs in my fully lit bedroom at 4 am most days.

6:30 pm : For the first time, I see Dumbo. It’s the neighborhood in Brooklyn whereDan Humphrey and his floppy-haired, Gin Blossoms-y dad lived on “Gossip Girl, ” despite being outlined as too good to live in any waterfront property.

I meet afriend to listen some live salsa music and watch babes dance( read: run in circles, mainly ). Here, sitting outside amonga cluster of Brooklyn children with cooler haircuts than me and their swank mothers who likely live in lofts nearby, a calm washes over me and I have the first substantial epiphany of my rebirth…

Friday, June 3: Fuck This Stupid Lifestyle Change

I don’t need to be better at living. I’m already amazingat living.

I have a relatively helpful magnitude from a commonwealth institution I begrudgingly attended following a substantial nervous breakdown at artwork school.

I have a task I enjoy and show up to every day in a semi-punctual, enthusiastic manner.

I have never missed a rent payment on anapartment I’m hesitantto show to gentleman callersbecause, fine, it’s like walking into an immersive trailer for “Grey Gardens.”

I have two floras in my room that, despite being half dead, are also half thriving.

I recently met, and then instantly deleted, two separate dating apps that attained me feel like a judgmental elitist/ future carnage victim.

I showered this morning.

Ihave a strong, positive relation with their own families, despite my mother’s evident outrage at the factI workfull time in an manufacture that substantiates my degree rather than livingin a youth hostel somewhere, elapsing my occasion doing whippets and watching old escapades of “Family Matters.”

I have never physically tortured or killed an animal or human, which I suspect is a concept the majority of members of us haven’t done, but that probably shouldn’t disrepute my achievement.

Self-improvement must be somewhat important, seeing as Americans waste billions of dollars per year trying to rift it, but perhaps, for the majority of us, it’s bullshit.

The version of adulthood I hoped to represent mine so many times is a fantasize that, formerly I actually tried to attain it, took me less than three days to vacate for something I basically understood from the beginning: Stop has become a dick.

Stop being a dick to strangers, to friends, to lineage, to your form, to your psyche, to the environment, to Anne Hathaway, to jerks and to enemies.

I’m tired, you guys. Life is tiring.

If waking up every morningat 4:45 am to shove a bunch of dry greens and ginger into a juicerbefore heading out for some cardio reaches you joyous, then experience your 9 am, in-office diarrhea break-dance knowing full well you’ve accomplishedsomething personally beneficial. If it doesn’t, fuck it.

Just don’t be a dick.

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