#sorry this response is a bit brief/mostly just me linking to older posts on this subject | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xuenstrugglestoblog · 1 month ago

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Did somebody say blogs R DEAD??

Since the pandemic, we've all been watching TikTok's short videos to cure our boredom, but it's 2024 now and there's Reels on Instagram and Facebook, YouTube now has Shorts. Well we can safely say that our attention span is now shorter than the time it takes for the stock market to crash.

This got a question that some of the older generation (anything before Gen Z) wondering : Is blogging still relevant in the age of TikTok and Instagram? SPOILER ALERT : Yes. Most definitely is and let me break it down for you.

Hehe kidding, hope you like to see Mario break dancing, but in all seriousness, here's why blogging will survive like the rats who live under Paris' sewers : 1. The Long-Form Content King

I mentioned earlier that people these days have peanuts for their attention span (sorry not sorry, I'm one of them anyways). This is all thanks to TikToks, IG Reels, YouTube Shorts for feeding us these short, less than a minute videos that are used for quick consumption. Quick consumption means surface level engagement and that can be translated to : the videos provide very little information and it tends to go over your head so you'll forget it in a couple of days. However, blogs allow brands to explore topics in detail, provide in-depth opinions and value that can't be conveyed through short videos. Blogging is more intimate where it provides in-depth, authoritative content that builds a connection with the readers. Space (2024) shared that blogs offer an unmatched resource when it comes to sharing expertise and comprehensive response to questions that users might not get from just a TikTok. Even with Instagram posts, there is a word limit and we'll most probably be directed to the Linktree in their bio "for more information". Thus, blogs can explore a topic in full detail, breakdown complex ideas and even provide sources to strengthen claims. This is a lot of information to just fit into a video. This is why blogging will strengthen a brand's authority and provide a lasting value for readers.

2. Blogging and SEO : One True Pair

Blogging's relevance in 2024 continues on with its power to drive organic traffic through Search Engine Optimization (SEO). TikTok and IG are mostly dependent on in-app searches and those sneaky algorithms that cater to your viewing feed, but blogs play the long game by being indexed on search engines. Lyon (2024) has stressed that blogs are critical for boosting visibility through organic search. Why? Simple enough : search engines will prioritize websites that consistently publish quality content (keyword here is quality). Blogs, in this case, will regularly update with new, relevant information; and not to mention, a well-written blog with the optimized keywords will land a spot in the first few suggestions of Google's search results, driving traffic to a brand's website for years to come. Unlike IG captions or TikTok descriptions, blogs definitely offer more opportunities for relevant keywords, which adds metadata and links to other relevant pages - all the essentials ingredients for a recipe to improve a website's SEO. Last bit of information : blogs enable content to be repurposed across multiple platforms, such as extracting tips from a long, boring article to create a series of TikTok videos or IG posts to make things brief-er and more interesting.

3. Establishing Authority and Building Trust <3

The current 2024 digital landscape is getting increasingly competitive, so trust and authority will go hand-in-hand to become key differentiators for brands and content creators. Blogging allows for a more personal, more transparent... just... more DETAILED exploration of ideas that readers can rely on for accuracy and depth. According to Yvette, blogging in 2024 is more important than ever because brands can leverage blogs to establish thought leadership and build trust with the consumers. Yes, TikTok and IG are excellent at creating buzz and getting direct, immediate, interactions, but do they foster the same level of trust as a well-researched, well-written blog post like this one? Well, I don't think so. Blogging allows businesses to answer those specific questions, address issues and share their expertise in a way that consumers may revisit over time. Plus, blogs serve as an evergreen resource, providing that value readers love long after the initial publication date.

4. Blogging and Social Media are #BFFs4lyfe

You heard that right, blogging and social media will forever complement each other in powerful ways. First, you see this video on TikTok or Instagram. It grabs your attention. You go "huh.. that's pretty interesting..." You want more information. Where do you go? That's right. You head over to a blog to read more about whatever that just snagged your attention. Short-form content acts as an excellent hook to grab attention and generate interest, but the blogs take over for the deeper dive into the topic. Lyon (2024) further suggests that bloggers who incorporate video content, social media links, and multimedia within their posts will create a more engaging experience that can satisfy both types of content consumers. Additionally, blogs can be shared on social media platforms to drive the traffic back to a website, going back to the point where it helps to foster that relationship between a brand and audience #betterthanyourrelationship

Don't hate me for that, I'm just as single. Going back on topic though, businesses can maximize that reach and engagement of their content while delivering the in-depth information that the audience craves. So yes, social media trends fluctuate and change ever so frequently, but a well-maintained blog remains a stable, reliable foundation for long-term brand growth. #blogswillcontinueonforever #bloggingliveson

It's 2024, the world is dominated by Instagram and TikTok. Blogging may seem like this relic from a different time period, but hey. I hope this blog post changed your mind about it. Blogging clearly still holds immense value, especially when it comes down to provide deep, contextual, content, improving SEO and establishing authority. As Space (2024) and Yvette (2024) suggests, blogging serves a different, BUT complementary purpose, to short-form content. The balance of both snappy social media posts and detailed blog articles can help a brand cater to the diverse needs of their audience.

So NO, BLOGGING ISN'T DEAD (I'm blogging as you read this) and it is still as relevant as ever. It can, however, continue to evolve but there will still be a place for long-form, thoughtful writing.

References

Lyon, C. (2024). Is blogging dead? No, and here’s why. Lyon Content Agency. Retrieved from https://lyoncontentagency.com/is-blogging-dead-no-and-heres-why/

Yvette. (2024). Why blogging in 2024 is more important than ever. Lemonade Design Co. Retrieved from https://lemonadedesign.co/why-blogging-in-2024-is-more-important-than-ever/

Li, Y. (2022). Identity construction in social media: A study on blogging continuance. Behaviour & Information Technology, 41(8), 1671–1688. https://doi.org/10.1080/0144929X.2021.1895319

Space, M. (2024). Why blogging still matters. Manson Space. Retrieved from https://manson.space/blog/why-blogging-still-matters/

#MDA20009 #week4 #blogsliveon #blogswillcontinueonforever #bloggingisnotdead #xuenstrugglestoblog

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

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Male orc (Vilugh) x male reader (sfw) - Part Two

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This should have gone up on here yesterday, and has been available on my $5 Patreon tier for a week as the fourth ‘early release’ story on Patreon in July (every Wednesday).

You may recall the first chapter that I posted as an unedited WIP (Tumblr link) a while ago and had lots of encouraging comments about and some interest in seeing more from Vilugh and the prince. So, here it is! Sorry it's a bit late - things have just been nuts here lately. I wanted this to be the final chapter, but... plot happened. So... there'll be more in the future!

Content: continuing on from last time where our scholarly prince with the unfathomably dickish king for a father was told he was going to spend six months with the orcs, we see Vilugh again, meet his sister, and finally, get to the encampment. (tw: brief mention of past death of reader’s older brother, and constantly being compared to him by the aforementioned dickish king...)

Wordcount: exactly 4000. *nice*

Part One

To say that I was furious with my father for only deigning to inform me of my new situation for the next six months would have been an understatement. I knew I wasn’t the ruler-son that he’d envisaged taking over from him, but I had thought that my rather impressive record for strategy and tactics spoke for itself, not to mention that I was responsible for almost single-handedly planning and instigating massive economic reforms that not only refilled the monarchy’s gradually-dwindling coffers but promoted trade and gave our floundering, stagnating economy a huge boot up the backside. And yet, still, I was not enough. I was not my brother.

Fuming, I strode along the corridors from the great hall up to my chambers and nearly flattened a poor serving girl as she left one of the rooms along the way. “I’m sorry,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Highness,” she chirped, dipping into a curtsy and scurrying away before I could explain myself.

My reputation had gone from ‘scholar prince’ to ‘Royal Monk’ by the time I was twenty five, but I was also known for being moody and sullen, with a perpetual scowl on my lean - I thought gaunt - face. No wonder I’d frightened her. As I stared in the speckled mirror in my bedroom, I saw a face and body that would hardly impress the orcs to whom I was about to be packed off like a spare bit of cargo for six months. Why? What what did my father have to gain from sending me to a group of people who, until my teenage years, had been our enemies? They weren’t exactly our best friends now either.

The orcs right across the continent had begun to think about trade with us since Khraxh and her warband had first agreed to peace talks, and while the mountain orcs were still ferociously opposed to any kind of truce or trade talks with the soft, plains- and forest-dwelling humans, Khraxh had clearly seen the advantages that at least a ‘polite understanding’ would have with us. We had the monopoly on iron ore with our goblin-run mines to the east, and due to our superior charcoal burning techniques, we were able to forge steel like almost no one else, save perhaps the goblins themselves.

Goblins, like humans, had a long and turbulent history with orcs. Historically, encounters between the two peoples mostly ended in absolute annihilation of entire goblin communities by the larger and stronger orcs - hence their very slight preference for dealing with humans. It really was only a slight preference, however. Goblins were wary and untrusting of most folks, but it was understandable. They were a skittish, intolerant folk, quick to be offended and even quicker to give it.

Staring into that age-freckled mirror, I saw my lacklustre, pale skin, with no distinguishing features, save perhaps for my mother’s dark eyes and a slightly hooked nose. Where Dannan had been the golden boy of our family - qujite literally with his curly blond hair - I was the proverbial and, of late, the literal, dark horse. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark expression…

Needless to say, I got little sleep that night, which added to the dark shadows beneath those dark eyes. I turned it over and over as I lay amid the fine silk sheets. In the end, I came to the rather unsettling conclusion that my father hoped I wouldn’t survive my time with the orcs so that he could install someone like my cousin Balgrun on the throne after his demise. Not that anyone imagined that a king as tenacious and bitter as my father would ever give up his hold on life; he was simply too stubborn to die, I was sure of it. True, I was useful, but I was not a leader. I honestly crumbled to a trembling, stammering, sweating mess if I had to address the public myself, and I considered more than three people to be an abhorrent crowd. He’d raised me to be the shadow to my brother’s light, and I fulfilled that role too well to be trained to shine in public now.

Gritting my teeth the next morning, I stood on the sweeping steps of the royal castle, awaiting the arrival of the orcs.

The squeal of a war boar from the far side of the castle’s curtain wall announced their presence before the trumpets and shouts did. I drew a deep breath and kept my skinny hands folded behind my back. No need to let them see me shaking. The king emerged from the doors behind me and fixed me with his usual, emotionless glower. “Don’t embarrass me, son,” he muttered under his breath. “They do us great honour by taking you to the heart of their lands for so long a time.”

I raised my eyebrow. My mother had been able to do that, according to Rigmore. The castle steward and she had apparently been good friends, and when I had learned to do it, he had laughed and said I was the picture of my mother. Naturally, I did it around my father whenever I could just to rile him up. “Tell me, father,” I said with carefully controlled coolness in my voice. “What exactly do you hope to achieve out of my royal stay with — what was it you called them yesterday? — oh yes… ‘those beasts’.”

His lip curled and his eye twitched. “You will do well not to repeat that, boy,” he snarled.

I laughed and shook my head. “Out of the two of us, I seem to be the only one who values my hide, father. Fear not though, I have no intention of pissing off my captors.”

“Captors? Guardians, more like. The honour of hosting the son of the most powerful king on this continent will not be lost on them,” he said fervently, grey eyes drifting to the portcullis and main entrance to the bailey behind me.

“Surely you had some mission in mind for me then?”

“Win them over with that naive charm of yours,” he said dismissively, still not looking at me. “You could have charmed your way into the beds of half the nobility of this kingdom, despite your… physique… Fuck them if you have to,” he said in a hiss in my ear, “But I want them in an advantageous trade deal by the end of next spring. Butter them up, win their trust, and we’ll have the brutes in our pockets.”

“And if I don’t manage that?” I asked.

His eyes flashed. “Then you really aren’t of any use to me at all, are you?”

It wasn’t a wholly unexpected answer. The man was always the king before he was my father, but still, I barked out a loud and undignified laugh just as the orcs entered amid a clatter of cloven trotters and squealing war beasts, feeling empty and hollow. “Goddess be merciful,” I cursed. “You just want me out of the way while you wine and dine Balgrun in my absence. Oh yes,” I chuckled back at him over my shoulder, practically skipping down the stairs and strangely looking forward to my six month ‘holiday’ from the backstabbing and conniving of the castle. “I asked around; I know you’re asking my dear little cousin to stay. Perhaps you can show him the ropes in six months, and perhaps the orcs will decide I’m more useful as a toothpick than a diplomat, and you’ll have a reason to go to war with them again, wipe them off the plains, and then nothing will stand in your way between the coast and the mountains.”

And with that, I left him sputtering on the steps, his face a rather nasty puce colour. I’d figured out his alternative plan, and if he thought for a moment I was going to let him have it, he was a dotard.

“Greetings,” I said, addressing Vilugh in the common Trade Tongue. “Regrettably I have not had the chance to learn your language yet, otherwise I would have greeted you in your own tongue.”

The orc swung down from his boar and dropped the reins to the flagstone floor, ground-tying the beast the same way I might have ground-tied my mare. Starling was, to my relief, already saddled and ready for me, standing with her bridle in the hands of a groom and stamping her hoof in anticipation of an outing.

Vilugh was every bit as colossal and imposing as I remembered him from the last time I’d seen him, if not more so. I knew he had to be ten years or so older than me, and if he was thirty five, he was still in his absolute prime. His green-skinned chest was largely bare, save for the leather strap that reached diagonally from one hip to the opposite shoulder, holding up the leather hunting skirt that hugged his hips and hid very little from the imagination. He didn’t have the defined abs of the veiner fighters I’d seen who liked to show off their lean, oiled bodies for the attention of the crowd, but his middle was packed with solid fat and muscle that spoke of the strength of two or three oxen. His thighs could have crushed one of our warhorses to a bloody slurry if he’d fancied trying, and his hands were as big as the buckler shields favoured by fancy duellers in the city. Small for a shield, but very big for a hand.

His eyes were still that unnerving black that I recalled from my youth, and they were every bit as perceptive as I remembered too. He raked his gaze up my slim form, no doubt also cataloguing my physical features and sartorial preferences. That day I had chosen simple buckskin leggings, suitable for long distance riding, and a loose, linen shirt. My hair was tied back in a practical style at the nape of my neck, and across the front of my saddle, I had instructed my servant to tie a leather hunter’s jerkin for when evening drew in and it inevitably got much colder. In my saddlebags I had had simple, comfortable clothing packed, with none of the fripperies and fineries with which a prince might be expected to travel. Orcs were a pragmatic and practical people, and having a whiny prince demanding to stop for wine and grapes halfway there would win me no favours with them.

“We can teach you to speak orcish if you want,” Vilugh said in a voice like a rock slide.

I couldn't help but grin at the chance to learn something else, and nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that. I can’t promise to be any good, but I’ll try.”

To my surprise, Vilugh laughed. “From what I hear, you’re a quick learner, prince. You’ll catch on quick enough I reckon.”

Relief washed through me. The warrior was polite and had a sense of humour. As much as my father’s court frustrated me, I knew where to tread there, and how far I could push and poke before I risked too much. With the orcs, I had no idea yet what might provoke them or amuse them. I also had no idea how they felt about this arrangement, or how my presence among them would be received.

“If you’d like to rest or feed your mounts, and seek the same for yourself, then please make yourselves comfortable, otherwise I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” I left it up to him to decide, and after a quick look at my father, still standing on the castle steps like a lone lion on a rock while hyenas prowled below, Vilugh shot me a look of a different calibre.

“These boar can ride all day without stopping for food or water; three days without rest,” he said in a measured voice, walking at my side and casting my entire body into shadow with his immense height and breadth.

He was testing me, and I didn’t fall for it. “And yet the ride from your mother’s bastion is four days from here,” I replied with the same even tone.

Vilugh’s eyes glittered with amusement. “The piss you people drink for ale should be enough for now.”

It was easy enough for me to take a chance on his sense of humour with my father’s bowmen lining the walls and the honour guard ranged up the stairs nearby. “For you or for the boars?” I quipped, turning away and inviting him to follow me.

Again, the massive - and honestly quite intimidating - orc let out a long, loud belly-laugh of amusement. “Hay will do for the boars just now, though they prefer meat when they can get it.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” I muttered.

The boars were seen to, and I led Vilugh and the two other orcs who had accompanied him up to meet my father. Neither Vilugh nor his fellow warriors bowed or bent the knee to my father I was pleased to note, and it got my father’s hackles up like a like a bristling tomcat. I almost could have kissed the enormous warrior just for putting my father on the back foot already, but honestly, what did he expect? Did he think the orcs would prostrate themselves before him? They’d hardly done that last time, so I couldn’t imagine he’d be so conceited as to think they’d do it this time.

“Your majesty,” Vilugh said.

“Welcome,” my father said, his tone more tightly-clipped than the box hedge in the castle’s knot garden. “Will you be staying for some refreshments before you return to your people with my son?”

“Just long enough to give the boars a breather,” Vilugh said with easy diplomacy.

The other warriors he’d brought with him were the older, one-armed orc I’d skittered away from as a child, and a female I didn’t recognise but who had the most incredible, blue eyes I’d ever seen. Vilugh must have caught me admiring her in the great hall because he leaned in close and growled without real sting, “Stare too long at my sister and she’ll most likely cut out your eyes, princeling.”

“I was just admiring hers,” I yipped quickly, regretting the rather boyish note to my usually hoarse tenor. “Blue eyes are not so common in these parts, that’s all. I meant no offence by it.”

Seated beside him at the table, she leaned close to her brother and barked something in orcish at him. He looked briefly back at me, and then responded in the same. They conversed for a moment and I sat there with my spine dead-straight and my jaw clenched. When Vilugh turned back to me, he grinned. “Rhana says that if the pretty human princeling wants to stare at her, he can, but he’ll have to answer to her wife when we get back.”

“Far be it from me to come between an orc and her wife,” I chuckled anxiously.

When Vilugh translated, they both laughed and Rhana reached behind her brother and cuffed me on the shoulder hard enough that I was almost sent reeling off my seat and onto the floor, which got another laugh out of them and drew a glare of daggers from my unnerved father. Good. Let him be baffled that I was already getting along with these warriors like soldiers in the barracks. He’d clearly not expected me to have any idea how to behave around them, but while I didn’t spend my spare time in our own guards’ barracks, I observed the way everyone in the castle interacted with each other. It was what I’d been trained to do, after all: notice things and remember them.

All in all, the orcs didn't linger long, and we were on our way within an hour.

The pace of the first few hours of the ride alternated between a brisk walk and trotting, though my mare jogged excitedly for the first hour of that until I finally convinced her that we were in it for the long haul. The grooms kept her fit and well-schooled since I couldn’t step away from the castle regularly enough to do it myself, but by the end of the day, even my indomitable Starling was beginning to flag. I patted her neck and murmured that we’d probably break camp soon, and, sure enough, we did.

Once a small fire was lit, with the dry twigs of plains brush-scrub, and carefully warded in a low pit to stop it spreading across the arid plain, I drew out my rations from my saddlebag and Vilugh shot me a look of mild surprise.

“What?” I asked, nervous that I’d committed some inadvertent transgression by digging in before they’d started eating.

After a moment, the orc heaved himself down onto the ground beside me, long, black plait thwacking against his back at the motion. Then he said almost conspiratorially, “You’re not what I was expecting.”

Unwrapping the bread and hard cheese from their waxed linen wrappings, I frowned. “Just what were you expecting, might I ask?”

He shrugged a massive shoulder and drew out a similarly wrapped parcel - much larger - with dried meat and a hard looking biscuit that I thought would probably crack my own teeth before it broke. “Honestly… going off the last time I saw you, and from what your father said of you in talks with my mother… I thought you’d be a fragile little bird. You’re not.” He looked at me, dark eyes glittering in the fire like polished onyx and added, “You are skinny as a bird, but you’re not weak.”

“How would you know?” I scoffed. “I could be too weak to draw my sword. It could just be strapped to my waist for show…” In fact, it was now unbuckled and lying behind me with my saddle and bags, while Starling was hobbled nearby and looking rather disdainfully at the slim grazing afforded by the scrubland where we’d paused. Finest high-summer hay, it was not.

“You move like a dancer,” he said, and I immediately choked on a breadcrumb.

He had to slap me on the back and offered me a skin of water. I washed the offending clog down and gawped at him. “What would you know about human dancers?” I asked without thinking.

“I’ve travelled to the cities on the coast,” he said. “They dance in the marketplaces on festival days.”

“Oh,” I said. And then my cheeks flushed. “I’m not… You know… those dancers are… uh… paid to do more than dance… shall we say.”

It took Vilugh a moment to catch on, but he seemed embarrassed at his mistake. “I meant no insult by it,” he said. “They’re very beautiful.”

“That they are,” I admitted. My father had tried to entice three of them into bed with me after one evening spent in the company of one of his duchesses, but when I’d shown more interest in her library than her twittering prostitutes, he’d given up. Apparently the finest courtesans in the land weren’t going to make me proper man in his eyes, so it wasn’t worth trying.

Vilugh must have seen my memories swirling across my face, because he didn’t bring it up again, and we ate in a rather awkward silence after that. The orcs drew lots for the watch, and Vilugh drew the first and insisted that as their guest, I should not be expected to deprive myself of sleep. Plus, apparently, the next day’s riding would be harder and he didn’t want me falling out of my saddle when I dozed off. Also orcs’ eyes were more like cats’ eyes in the dark, I discovered, when I looked up and saw Rhana’s glinting at me from across the fire and nearly had a heart attack. She laughed and wished me pleasant dreams.

Taking their well-meaning jibes in my stride, I nodded and bedded down in my humble bedroll. It was the type that hunters used, made of breathable buckskin and lined with fleece to keep off the chill of the plains, and although I’d only spent one or two nights in it in my life, I slept better that night than I had in years, not waking until Vilugh's surprisingly gentle touch at my shoulder stirred me not long after dawn.

Over the course of the next few days, Starling developed a comical rivalry with Rhana’s boar, the two taking every opportunity to bite or scuffle with each other, though it never seemed to get truly vicious enough for either of us to worry about, so we let it play out to our amusement. Perhaps because of that and perhaps because I just simply liked them for their gruff honesty, by the time the wooden palisade walls of the orcish war-band’s permanent stronghold drew into view on a wind-blown hilltop, I felt relatively comfortable with the three orcs who had been sent to fetch me.

The older one with one arm was called Rhakak, and was apparently Vilugh’s cousin. He was taciturn and unflinching, watchful and grim, but not aggressive towards me. I still gave him a wide berth though.

But if I’d thought Rhakak was intimidating, it was nothing to Vilugh's mother.

I remembered her from her visit to the castle, but nothing could quite have prepared me for the sheer presence the matriarch had amongst her own people. She was standing waiting for us as we rode up to the walls of the stronghold, and even though Vilugh had told me that Khraxh wouldn’t hold me to the same etiquette as she would a visiting orc, I still nearly shat my pants in fear when I got off Starling’s back and found her surveying me with a distinctly unimpressed look on her weathered, beautiful face.

She really was beautiful. Her body was honed and muscular, but her movements were sleek and efficient, and in much the way a war galley cuts through the water and bristles with power, so she moved with the dormant power of a life-long warrior. Her long, thick hair had turned grey in the intervening decade since I’d seen her, and she’d lost half a tusk too, but the way the gathered orcs arranged themselves around her reminded me of a wolf and her pack. She commanded absolute obedience in them, and unyielding loyalty. In that moment, I did feel afraid, and suddenly very much not up to the seemingly impossible task I had been set.

With a rather endearing patience, Vilugh had taught me the phrase to speak in orcish upon meeting her, and once I could finally get my tongue around the complex vocal gymnastics of the orcish language, he said I would not be flayed alive for completely embarrassing my tutor.

Thus, upon our first meeting, I nearly sprained my jaw, but I gained perhaps a modicum of respect from the veteran war chief. As the three orcs sent to the castle to fetch me had now bowed, neither did I, but I did incline my head as I spoke. There was no need to act like a prideful brat after all.

If my father was expecting me to make enemies of these people and inadvertently lure them into killing me and sparking a war, then I was bloody well going to do the opposite. I wasn’t a warrior, but I had my mind, and I was damned if I was going to fuck things up and go down in history as the skinny little prince who kicked off the orc-human conflict all over again.

Humble but not meek, studious but not annoyingly curious, polite but not obsequious, opinionated but not obnoxious… I began to feel my way through the stronghold’s hierarchy, and miraculously survived my first week there without insulting anyone.

One week down, twenty three more to go…

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier!

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#exophilia #male orc #orc x reader #male orc x male reader #male monster x male reader #mlm #mlm exophilia #1st person narrative #male monster #male reader

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darkestangel1326 · 4 years ago

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Prologue - This was real life. Right?

Hey lovelies. So I know it is likely no one is going to read this but me but I just had to write this anyway. For me. Posting for the same reason! Fic under the “Keep reading” cut, but here’s how I got here:

This all started when I wondered what would happen if MC was a scientist. Or a science grad student. But then I thought, what would be enough to compel a scientist or science grad student to stop their sciencing realistically for any amount of time? Because as my previous PI says, every scientist becomes a mad scientist at least in one point in their careers for their research - this is especially true for grad students.

Then, I just never understood the whole returning a phone excuse Unknown gave MC to lure her into Rika’s apartment. Like MC, with her own phone, is gonna return a phone she doesn’t even have, just because Unknown was persistent? He even says he’s a student in the States who will eventually return home so what was with the urgency to go to find the owner? If he really wanted to return the phone, he could’ve mailed it since he has the address right? We know he does because he sends MC there. It just always bothered me.

Finally, I wanted to slightly self-insert to make the MC (Emme C.) a bit more human so that it even if you couldn’t change her choices, it would still be entertaining. I heavily relied on second person, to help give it the mystic messenger vibe though I’m not sure it works.

This prologue is some character building for Emme C. (Actual name: Emme Cee), brief OC appearances and, for my sanity, this is all taking place in the US. TBH I’m not even sure how deep I want to go with this story. I just know I needed to write it.

So without further ado!

“My biggest fear and why? Hmmm,” you mulled it over and took another sip of your beer, after your lab mates glared at you for an answer.

Or former labmates - you were leaving for grad school in a few weeks so this was kind of your farewell social. Even with your general distaste of beer, even you had to admit this one was really good.

You closed your eyes and sheepishly rubbed your neck. “This is gonna sound weird but a time loop,” you answered hesitantly. “It just makes me uneasy to be stuck in never-ending cycle, replaying the same scenario over and over again with no end in sight.”

“True but we are in academic research!” Marie answered, a teasing lilt to her voice that transformed into a chuckle.

“Yeah you might have to deal with it during your Masters program, especially the thesis stage.” Whitney continued, joining in with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me,” you giggled as you took another sip - a longer sip - of your beer. “But that’s not exactly what I mean either” you persisted, a bit more seriously.

I’m afraid of replaying the same day, the same events, the same interactions over and over again, not knowing why or how to stop it,” you finished more seriously. You took another sip of the fizzy drink and felt your equilibrium teeter a bit.

“You mean like that movie Groundhog Day?” Aurora quietly inserted.

“I haven’t seen that movie but if it’s like what I said, then yes, that’s it,” you answered, your fizzy drink now gone.

“Sorry wait. Why are you afraid of time loops? I think I missed that part. Wouldn’t replaying the same day and seeing how your choices change events be a good thing?” Sally asked. Technically, she was completely right - repeatability was one of the sacred ideals of science after all. Plus, If you really thought about it, you hadn’t actually said why you’re afraid of time loops, just that you are.

“I’m afraid of never moving forward - of never progressing, no matter how hard I try or work. A time loop means, yes, I’ll know what my choices would entail, but not how to escape or what the triggering event for my release could be. I could replay the time period of the same few weeks but for years without knowing how to escape and move on. And, I guess, since it took me so long to even start my Master’s and I felt like I might never be able to, this fear was just born,” you admitted, pouring more beer for yourself.

I mean an actual time loop where every single thing happens the exact same way, down to the underlying rhythm of conversation. And where you can’t escape until you figure out the common problem then fix it. How would you escape it? And what if you mess up, in different ways, forever? Who would want that?!

—————————————————————————

You awoke with a sigh, realizing you had that dream again. Or was it a flashback since this happened a few weeks ago? You shrugged your shoulders and got to work sorting boxes. You were set to start on-campus work in a few weeks so you were just trying to do the bare minimum research wise. Plus, you wanted to really focus on decorating your new apartment and get acquainted with the town since you’d be living there for the next few years.

After a few hours of scrambling and organizing, you sat on the floor (you were still in the process of buying furniture), and looked at your emails.

One in particular caught your attention, so much so that you took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes, almost laughing at such a cartoony response. The subject line of this email was what confused you. It read “missing research paper - need citation”. It was an unfamiliar email, moreover, it was sent to your previous college email, which was linked to your past research publications.

Curious, you bit the inside of your cheek and read the email.

“Dear Emme,

Hope this email finds you well. I am a student from XXX University and have been working on a research project concerning XXX. Your research was one of the most recent and prominent examples as to why this area needs further study, however, I have not been able to access the paper I saved as a bookmark in my web browser. After extensive searching, I have been unable to find the original paper or even one of the articles that referenced it - almost as if the article has completely disappeared from existence! Is there a reason the research article is gone? If not, could you provide me with an idea of where it is and the proper citation for my research article?”

what. whAT. WHAT!?

Your research couldn’t be gone! This didn’t make any sense! Yes it was a few years old, but it couldn’t be gone from the web! There are research papers from the 1960s that are archived and accessible online for goodness sake!

You had to calm down. Take deep breaths. You continued trying to breathe as you pulled out your research flash drive. You looked for the paper on your there and found it, sighing in relief. It grounded you, reminding you that your work did exist. Just as you were set to attach the file and corresponding citation to the email, your internet stopped.

Scratch that, your entire laptop stopped.

You groaned. Yes, this was an older, refurbished model, but it’s been working fine. The screen distorted for a second, as if the extra pixel boxes emphasized the frozen nature of your screen. Before you even had time to process it, your laptop unfroze and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank heavens. You had just moved and weren’t sure you could realistically afford a new laptop anytime soon. As you look over your screen, however, your relief shifts to panic.

omg. oMG. OMG!

It’s gone. Your research files. The ones on your laptop and on your flash drive. The email is gone. Before you can refresh the page you get logged out. You can’t even log into your old email account - Error 404 Not Found.

Your heart races. Then, it aches. You worked so hard on those projects. They were part of your scientific fabric and now both were just gone. Your years of work, gone in seconds.

You felt like crying. But you decide not to, at least not until you’re in the shower where the tears can blend in with the cascading liquid as you sing emo music.

For now, you decide a quick walk and some fresh air are what you need, so you grab your keys and head for the mailbox. You’ve only lived in this apartment for a week but you check the mail constantly in an effort to get in the habit rather than because you expect something.

But today, you did get something. A small parcel with no return address. Curious, you take that and the grocery flyers to your apartment and open the package there.

A phone? It’s from the same company as yours, just a slightly older model.

You blink at it, almost telepathically asking it what it’s doing in your mailbox. You decide to turn it in to the mail service and are about to put it back in its envelope when you notice a note.

“Charge me”

“What the hell is going on today?” You mutter as you pull out your charger and plug it into the phone.

You sit on the floor with this new phone in hand and sigh. “Why am I even taking orders from a mysterious note for anyway?”

Just then the screen lights up. There’s no passcode so opening the phone was super easy. The phone’s screen and minimal app selection almost made you think it was new, but the lack of setting it up told you that wasn’t the case. Who would buy this phone and not use it? And why did they send it to you?

There is one app that calls to you, mostly because you’ve never seen it before. And because it was unlike the rest of the default apps on the screen.

RFA? What’s that?

Just then, the screen turns dark and green characters zoom up through the screen. You sucked with all tech but even you knew this reaction was abnormal. You swore you didn’t press the app but seeing the phone continue reacting, you become less confident.

“Hello?”

You stare at the screen. ‘Unknown’ was messaging you.

You respond. Stupidly. Naively. And without thinking about the consequences.

Because this was real life. Right?

What’s the worse that could happen?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m debating taking this next part a few routes...we’ll see what I decide...

If you, by any chance made it all the way down here, can you drop a reblog or something with your thoughts? Was Emme Cee likable? Did the flow make sense? Do you like where this is going? Let me know!

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fic prologue #DA writes #This was Real Life. Right?

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docfuture · 6 years ago

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Interlude: The Book

[This vignette occurs just after Chapter 45 of The Maker’s Ark. The latest chapter of The Maker’s Ark is here, and links to some of my other work are here. Updates are posted irregularly–theoretically every two weeks, a schedule I still aspire to return to someday.]

Insomnia wasn't something Flicker usually thought about, or even noticed; when she was growing up, it was the default, and she formed her habits accordingly. What was still new to her was considering how it might affect someone else sharing her bed. She'd moved to the next compartment to read in order to avoid disturbing Journeyman. The rumble of the main drive of the Learning Is About To Occur kept her company on the couch as she skimmed a translated Grs'thnk survey article on the effects of non-standard communication modes on social development. Learning had inquired politely if she wished conversation, and she had politely declined. The only other person on the ship who had context for what she wanted to talk about was asleep, and she wasn't going to-- The hatch opened, revealing Journeyman, in the t-shirt and shorts he'd worn to bed--his habits were shaped by the occasional need for an abrupt port. His hat was in the form of a nightcap, which she thought was a nice touch. "Figured," he said. "How bad?" "I'm okay," said Flicker. "Didn't want to wake you just to ramble at you." "Flicker, you can always--" She shook her head. "Listening is an effort right now. And one-sided conversations are rude, especially when you're short of sleep too." Journeyman was a pattern magician, and he had a skilled actor's mastery of gesture and nuance. He adjusted the brim of the cap, which morphed into a beach hat. His t-shirt shifted to a colorful Aloha shirt, a snap of his fingers made an iced drink appear in his hand, and he sat down on the couch beside her. He stretched out one leg to rest a now-sandaled foot on the table, waved expansively with his free hand, and raised an eyebrow at her with a smile, a picture of comfortable relaxation. He could give an eloquent speech with exactly zero words. Flicker blinked and turned off her handcomp. "Okay," she said. "When I came back down from the translation session, I said I'd want to talk later. It's later. There are some old memories that I've wanted to share for a while, but--well, I'll explain." "Go ahead," he said. "Did you ever notice the old lockbox in my bedroom?" "Yeah. Wasn't going to ask. Magicians know better." "There's a keepsake in it. I'd have told you before, but... When I started recovering some of my childhood memories, it connected to some dark stuff, even though the other memories I have of it are good. But it's still my most emotionally important possession." "Keepsakes can be like that." "Yeah." Flicker paused. "When Gumshoe and the Volunteer got me out of that orphanage, it was an effort for me to understand speech. But when I realized the Volunteer was going to take me somewhere else, I wouldn't go with him until I went and got something. He couldn't keep up with me--that's what made it obvious that my power was speed. Also, I destroyed some doors, and was clutching it protectively when I came back, so everyone figured out right away that it was a good idea to let me keep it. And I couldn't talk yet, but I could read, and even write a little." "You said someone tried to teach you," said Journeyman. "Yeah. I'm not sure how old I was... it wasn't the last place I was in, it was the one before it, the one that burned down. So maybe four or five? I don't remember any details. They might have stopped because they thought I was deaf. My hearing was very hit or miss--that was before I figured out how to control my internal speed to make it reliable. Every time I sped up to think, I'd stop hearing, and that chopped up sounds into bits too brief to reassemble. "Or they might have stopped because I didn't get that pictures and words could go together. Or maybe they were told to stop. I don't know. Anyway, whoever tried didn't get far. That's not how I learned to read. But it was enough to plant the idea that patterns on paper could mean something important. I didn't have anything to connect them to, though. Then, quite a while later, I found something." Flicker smiled. "There wasn't much written or printed material that I could get at. A few old magazines and some scraps of newspaper. They didn't really help. The only thing I learned from them was that turning pages was tricky, and I needed to be careful if I didn't want to destroy them. And then one day--I don't remember how, there are still a lot of gaps--I found myself outside. I could move around if I really wanted. I just didn't, mostly. Nowhere to go, I wasn't very coordinated yet, and I was discouraged from trying for... well, pretty good reasons if you were a nearby human. "It was sunny out, and there was another building nearby, with a big open door, so I went in. I didn't recognize most of what I saw, but I remember the smell. It was distinctive--grease, oil, metal, and dust. Old workshop or small machine shop, one that hadn't been used much in a while. I poked around a bit. I remember a big workbench with scattered tools and a vice clamped to one end, a chain hoist, and a metal cabinet with shelves. And on one of the shelves was a book." Flicker closed her eyes, remembering. "I was very lucky. When I opened it, and carefully turned a few pages, I knew I had found something important, something amazing. It was full of printing, writing, that I didn't understand yet, but I sensed that I could learn. Understanding was possible. I picked it up, went back outside where the light was better, and started. I don't remember anything of my surroundings after that. At some point they found me and herded me back inside, but I didn't mind, I took the book with me. I don't think they were ever stupid enough to try to take it away. I know I was easier to deal with when I had my book, so they didn't have reason." "I taught myself to read using that book. And once I could puzzle some of it out, I realized just how wonderful it was." She opened her eyes again. "It was the best book in the world. What I read... fit, with a part of my mind I hadn't even realized I had. It was precious. I kept it wrapped up when I wasn't reading it, and slept with it under my pillow. The Trickster never tried to take it away, though I was afraid he might. I don't think he understood it." "The only time anything bad happened, was when I woke up one night and there were these bugs. There were always bugs around, and I usually ignored them. But these bugs were trying to eat my book. I got really scared and mad. I killed the bugs, then looked where they were coming from and pulled it open and there were more, so I killed them too, and..." Flicker looked down. "I wasn't careful. I got rid of the bugs. But I got rid of the building too. That was the fire." "Ah," said Journeyman. "Was-- wait, never mind, stupid question. Go on." "What? Go ahead, now I'm curious." "Gah. Okay. That mission back when we were first working together. I said 'You don't burn down your house to kill the bugs.' You got upset but couldn't explain why." "Yeah," said Flicker. "I didn't have the memory back yet, but I still had some reactions from around it. And there are records of people dying in that fire. That's the worst part. Doc thought--I thought--the fire was part of a cover-up, that the people were already dead. But they'd have to plan that, and they didn't. I caused it." "Not... necessarily." Flicker frowned. "What do you mean? Too much damage, too much heat transfer--boom, fire. That was me." "Yeah, but the Trickster was your real jailer. Getting other people to take the fall for things he planned was his specialty. If he wanted, he could send in the bugs with a pretty good idea of what would happen. And even if he didn't, the scuzzy humans running the place wouldn't need any prodding to use a fire of unknown origin to explain otherwise suspicious deaths. Their other options would be worse--fires attract attention." Flicker thought for a bit, and blinked a few times. "Mike, you're really good at making me feel better. And I love you for it. But you can't know that." "No. But you can't know it's all your fault either. Accepting responsibility is one thing, but you don't have to hoard it like a miser." "Okay. That's... reasonable. Sorry." Flicker wiped her eyes. "You said there were good memories, too?" "Oh yeah," said Flicker. "My book kept me occupied, and grounded. I read and reread it for years." "I did that with a couple of spellbooks for a while." said Journeyman, smiling. "They were reference works, but I used them as comfort reading." "The best kind. What I figured out last night was what made it click so well. That came back when I was tearing through that new Floater data dump looking for translation cues." "Was that why you were so happy when you slowed back down? I thought it was from the progress you made." "That, too. I kept jumping ahead of where Learning, DASI, and Three were consolidating. Because the Floaters included a bunch of older scientific reference texts as jumping off points, and I already had a Rosetta Stone for that sort of thing memorized. I know how to use formats and table descriptions and a whole bunch of other clues to learn an alien language, because I did it before. That's how I learned English--using all the data and tables from my book and comparing with the formats and some leftover data from Skybreaker's memory. She had non-volatile memory specifically for local physical constants and stuff, because she was created for inter-universal travel, so that's where I stored the data from the book. That's why I never lose it from my high speed memory when I sleep. And what made it fit, what made me sure it was important. It was like... a guide to where I was. Common math and purpose guided me when I read my book. I just had to build up meanings for the symbols and puzzle out the axioms." Flicker smiled again. "And it was the base I used to come back to myself, after Donner's song of unbinding. My book still helps me, even though I've updated a lot of the data. So can you see why I'm sentimental about it?" Journeyman stared into the distance for a bit before speaking, hesitantly. "So. I can guess what kind of book it was. Are you comfortable sharing the title?" Flicker felt herself blush. "Oh! Yeah. It's the CRC Handbook of Chemistry and Physics, the 44th edition for 1962 and 1963. 3,604 pages. I read every printed page, all the tiny writing, all the numbers and tables, all the graphs and charts and equations and footnotes. It gave me a taste of how much knowledge there was out there, organized and beautiful, even if I didn't understand what it was all about yet. And the first time I visited Doc's lab, and he gave me a high speed interface to his Database--I realized it was kind of like a living version of my book, bigger and faster and more up to date. That's when I knew I was home. That Earth was home." Journeyman smiled. "That's what I would call a pretty good book." "My book. Best book. I'll show it to you when we get back to Earth." Flicker yawned. "Sorry to blather for so long. But I think I'll be able to sleep now." "Not blather. We share when we can." Journeyman stood and stretched, and they moved back to the bedroom. This time, sleep came easy.

#Maker's Ark #FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

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evanescent-red-light · 7 years ago

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Hi ^^ What do you think about the new monster ladies from TEW2 demo? Since We can see a lady in red before the to many heads lady appears, do you think is possible that Lily Castellanos somehow get to know Laura? I was thinking that in case that yes maybe in her steam she splitted Laura's personality in two different ladies, the many heads one and the humming lady who is searching for someone, something like reborn Laura, and the Laura of the easter egg from TEW. Have a nice day ♥

((Oh god, this has been sitting in my drafts for ages. Tbh I thought I already posted this. Sorry about that. I have quite a few theories about it but I’ll put them under a cut so it won’t take up people’s dashes. Also beware of slight spoilers from gameplay footage and trailers shown. I’ve tried keeping it to a minimum, but it’s better to give a heads up just in case. Thanks for the ask and hope you have a nice day as well! ♥))

I really do think Laura is in the new STEM. All of the variations of the “Laura” monsters, like Guardian, are too uncanny to be coincidence. I will point out that, since this is a Japanese game, long black haired monster ladies are common. I understand that. But... damn. Here are a few of my theories:

1) Laura has still been in a vegetative state after the fire. As to why she would be connected to STEM and, more importantly, how Ruvik had zero idea about her being involved is still unclear. Then again, it is MOBIUS we’re talking about. They might have thought that she would have the same neurowave link, maybe? Thought that there might be a genetic pattern to get around Ruvik’s little latch on the whole system? But not enough to put her as the Core. Hmm... Same as Leslie then? Plug her in to see if she can withstand it, but since she’s not responsive they wouldn’t risk her as the Core?

2) Laura might have been in contact with Stefano prior to the events of STEM. I’m actually kinda leaning towards this one a bit for several reasons. Guardian has an uncanny resemblance to Reborn Laura. (Not to mention the brief appearance of an older looking Laura who I hope isn’t a red herring.) Plus it’s been confirmed that she is one of Stefano’s creations. So why the similarities? We know that Stefano mostly targeted fashion models due to his profession, so that would explain why Guardian is an amalgamation of body parts. But why do all of them look like Laura? Maybe they were in a relationship in some form or another? Quite a number of his creations focus on the female form; Obscura, Guardian, various photos/paintings etc. Obscura in particular seems very sexual in nature, with her form and the way she moans. But one thing I noticed in particular is his fascination with ballet dancers. Obscura’s feet are that of a ballerinas. I also remember seeing a painting of a ballerina holding two balances, and a photo of a sliced ballerina’s ankle. (And this, admittedly, is bordering on headcanon territory but bear with me.) Laura always seemed like the type who would be into dancing, especially ballet. While Ruben’s interests were purely scientific, Laura focused more on the arts. Perhaps she and Stefano held a common interest?

3) She’s a remnant of Seb’s trauma from surviving the original STEM. I mentioned before that you can actually see Reborn Laura in the trailers, despite only appearing for a sliver of a second. We know that Seb has really fallen off the wagon since the last game, and the devs have pretty much said that his psyche is extremely fragile. Reborn Laura really freaked him (and us) the most in the previous game. So it would make sense for her to start manifesting in Union.

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS!!

4) Laura is Myra. In all honesty, I wasn’t too keen on this theory at first. I heard it first from @jazitupart and, while she made a convincing argument, I wasn’t swayed... until recently. I think what is most striking to me is her eyes. They’re the exact same. It’s... eerily similar. Another massive indicator would be their age. Laura would be well into her 40′s at this stage, and Myra would easily be the same. Since Seb just entered his 40′s I imagine Myra would be the roughly same. However there are still a lot of gaps with this theory.

#Away from the Flames #Headcanon #((I've actually been meaning to make a post about this lmao))#((I love discussing things like this.))#((Ngl I'm pretty nervous about the game coming out this week.))#((Hope I've been playing her right for all this time.))#((Thanks again nonnie!!))#Anonymous

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fitono · 7 years ago

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A Trainer’s Guide to Building Muscle

People hire trainers for lots of reasons, but your success will always come down to muscle. Are your clients stronger? Are they leaner? Do they have more energy and less pain? Do they move faster, and feel better doing it? Every one of those outcomes is a function of muscle quality, and to achieve it, you’ll need to make the clients’ muscles bigger.

Few clients will come right out and say they want bigger muscles. But nobody ever complains when they get them. They like their new appearance, they like the way their clothes fit, and they especially like the compliments that come along with those results.

For me, building muscle has been a lifelong quest—not just lifting, but making a career out of studying and writing about every aspect of the process. One side effect of learning so much about a single topic is that you realize how hard it is for everyone else to stay current.

Human physiology hasn’t changed, of course. The basics you learned about muscle hypertrophy still apply. But in recent years we’ve seen an increasing divergence in how those basics are applied, with different camps staking out territory based on either research or experience.

The most important question isn’t who’s right, but how to use the best evidence we have to get the best possible results for your clients.

Consider this your refresher course on the science and practice of muscle development.

Training Variables

Every lifter in my generation—I was born in 1973—started out with the idea that three sets of 10 is ideal for hypertrophy … and for everything else, come to think of it. It’s not wrong so much as limited.

Here’s what we’ve learned about sets, reps, and all the other variables you consider for your clients’ programs.

Reps

We now know there’s no ideal rep range for hypertrophy. Unless you go extremely low (fewer than five per set) or extremely high (50 or more), you can build muscle.

That leaves us with a range of six to 49 reps. But we can narrow it down quite a bit.

At the high end, can you imagine having your clients do more than 30 per set? Unless they really enjoy pain and discomfort, I don’t think they’d be your clients for long.

At the low end, few general-population clients need to train with heavy loads requiring fewer than eight reps. I never do in my own workouts; after training for 20-plus years, the injury risk just isn’t worth it to me.

So what’s ideal?

For most movements, probably eight to 12 per set, and maybe 12 to 20 for some isolation movements. Surprisingly, there’s no need to vary your reps from workout to workout, or even month to month. You may want to, with the goal of keeping your clients engaged. But there’s no consistent evidence that it makes a difference.

READ ALSO: Sorry to Disappoint, but Muscles Don’t Get “Confused”

Sets

While the number of reps per set isn’t especially important, the number of sets is. In my own meta-analysis, published in 2010, I found that, for any given exercise, multiple sets per workout are better than a single set. Four to six sets also came out better than two to three sets.

That shouldn’t be a surprise unless you’re a zealot for super-slow or HIIT.

But that’s only a small part of the puzzle. What matters most for hypertrophy is the total number of sets per muscle group per week. In a 2017 study, my coauthors and I found that for each additional weekly set, muscle size increases by 0.38 percent.

We didn’t have enough data to find an upper limit, where additional sets might produce diminishing returns, or even have negative consequences. All we can say with confidence is that you’re most likely to get the best results with 12 to 18 sets per week.

In bodybuilding terms, that would be double-digit sets for chest, shoulders, back, biceps, triceps, quads, hamstrings, glutes, and calves. And who knows what you’d do for your core, assuming you had any time left.

That approach is obviously impractical for your clients. Fortunately, you can use compound movements to hit the target.

Let’s say, in an average week, you do 12 total sets of pushing exercises—three sets of flat bench presses on Monday; three sets of shoulder presses and three sets of push-ups on Wednesday; and three sets of incline bench presses on Friday. Like a creative accountant, you can say that counts as:

9 sets for chest

12 sets for shoulders (although mostly the front deltoids)

12 sets for triceps

And let’s say you typically do nine sets of pulling exercises per week—three sets of dumbbell rows on Monday, three sets of pulldowns on Wednesday, and three sets of TRX inverted rows on Friday.

If you count each of those sets for both back and biceps, you’re already close. Add one additional set per workout, and you have 12 per week.

The same idea applies to lower-body exercises. A squat, for example, can count toward the volume total for quads and glutes.

Exercise selection

One question you may have: If a compound exercise counts toward your set volume for multiple muscle groups, do your clients need to do any single-joint exercises?

The short answer is no. It’s completely counterintuitive, but studies with both beginners and experienced trainees show no advantage to adding single-joint exercises like curls and extensions on top of the big-bang movements like presses and pulls.

It really comes down to how much time you have, and what your clients prefer. If you’re training a guy who’s interested in muscle development, you’d expect him to be disappointed if he doesn’t get to do his bro curls. Same with a female client who wants to focus on her glutes. Exclude those exercises at your peril.

I should also add that these studies are based on average responses. It’s entirely possible that some clients will respond better to a mix of compound and isolation exercises than to a steady diet of multijoint movements.

But there’s one key aspect of these studies that applies to everyone.

Intensity

All the aforementioned data is based on sets to failure, or near failure.

Warm-up sets don’t count. Nor does the total include the kind of sets most trainees do on their own, where they stop at a predetermined rep count whether the muscles are fatigued or not.

You should also consider that some exercises may accomplish more with less volume. For example, an exercise that loads a muscle under stretch, like an overhead triceps extension, creates more muscle damage than a pressdown or kickback. Some research suggests training a muscle through a full range of motion like this may offer a more potent hypertrophy stimulus.

Rest

Most of us learned a simple guideline for rest periods:

Short rest for light weights and high reps

Long rest for heavy weights and low reps

But in bodybuilding culture, there was a different idea: With short rest periods, you get a better pump, as well as a greater stimulus for testosterone and growth hormone. Most of us know how that math works:

Pump + anabolic hormones = gainz!

We now know that the brief post-workout increase in muscle-building hormones is unrelated to muscle growth.

READ ALSO: Stop Training Your Clients Like CrossFitters, Bodybuilders, or Powerlifters

In fact, the best data we have shows that longer rest periods—at least two minutes between sets with moderately heavy loads—produce better results. The reason comes down to the fact you do more work when your muscles have more time to recover between sets.

Obviously, your clients aren’t paying you to watch them stand around for two minutes after every set. But the solution is something you probably do already: Alternate two or more exercises for unrelated muscle groups, so each one has enough time to recover.

Protein Volume and Timing

This is one area where the gym bros have been right along: Higher protein really is beneficial for hypertrophy. The magic number to maximize gains appears to be 1.6 grams per kilogram of body weight per day, or 0.75 grams per pound. The upper limit is probably 2.2 grams per kilogram, or 1 gram per pound.

By “upper limit,” I don’t mean that your kidneys explode if you have more. That’s just the highest amount linked to muscle growth in high-quality research. Eating more isn’t dangerous; we just don’t have good reason to believe it offers any additional benefit.

Are supplements required to maximize gains? I wouldn’t say you need them, but in a recently published study, my coauthors and I found clear benefits. Protein supplements significantly increased both muscle strength and size.

Two other interesting results:

Supplements are more effective in trained vs. untrained lifters.

The effects diminish with age.

That’s good news for your beginner-level clients. Because their bodies are primed to respond to your training program, you can advise them to save their money and focus instead on protein-rich whole foods.

For your older clients, the news isn’t necessarily bad. The studies showing less muscle growth used lower protein doses than you typically see in these studies—20 grams per day instead of 40. The take-away message is that older lifters probably need something close to 40 grams to maximize protein synthesis post-workout.

Timing

Right now, there’s not much evidence that timing has a significant impact on muscle gains. As long as you have some protein roughly two to three hours before training and two to three hours after, timing isn’t likely to make much of a difference.

What matters most is your total protein intake. I don’t want to say that timing doesn’t matter at all, but it seems to be much, much less important than your daily total.

The Final Tally

If you’re keeping score, it should now be clear that traditional gym culture has gotten a lot of things right over the years:

Moderate rep ranges—eight to 12 per set, and up to 20 for some movements—are typically best for hypertrophy.

Each additional set can be linked to bigger muscles. There must be an upper limit, but we don’t know exactly what it is.

Training to or near failure on most of those sets will produce the best results.

More protein means more muscle, up to 1.6 to 2.2 grams per kilogram of body weight, or 0.75 to 1 gram per pound.

But bro science, collectively, has also been wrong on a couple of points:

Short rest periods may give you a great pump, but if you recover two minutes or more between sets, you’ll do more reps, and get better results.

Adding isolation exercises may not offer much benefit over compound movements, especially in untrained lifters. What matters is the total number of sets for each muscle group.

Pre- and post-workout protein doesn’t have to be as precisely timed as meatheads tend to believe. Total daily intake matters much more.

How you apply all this to your clients depends entirely on where they are and where they want to go. Just keep in mind you don’t have to apply all of it at once. Each step in the right direction will eventually pay off with bigger, better-looking muscles. And like I said, nobody ever complains about those.

The post A Trainer’s Guide to Building Muscle appeared first on The PTDC.

A Trainer’s Guide to Building Muscle published first on https://medium.com/@MyDietArea

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artofchelleelle · 8 years ago

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What It’s Like to Write a Book

Chapter 1… Just kidding!

But, to be serious, I preface that this is not a blanket piece that will cover the way every writer feels or behaves during the writing process. It is, however, my own personal journey as a writer and NaNoWriMoer (plus some advice) thus far. I hope it is insightful!

Writing a book is super fun and rewarding, but it can be a messy business, even when you plan and organize ‘til the cows come home. I’ve had Pinterest boards for nearly six years on what I want settings, buildings, clothing, and people to look like. I’ve done research online, rented books from the library, taken extensive notes on all sorts of things for months… But, I’ll tell you what. I’m still improv writing as I go.

Yep! I’m learning that my prepared, “Planner” self has turned into a “Plantser”, according to NaNoWriMo standards.

* To make a brief and educational aside, NaNoWriMo has three categories of preparedness badges it awards, and they are as follows (in my own words, of course):

Planner: Notes, notes, notes… and everything is plotted out. You’ve done so much work your novel could ALMOST write itself.

Plantser: You’ve got ideas! And… you’ve written some out. But, things are kind of uncertain…

Pantser: Woohoo! Starting from scratch!!!

Even after six years of thinking about this book, my ideas have evolved and changed so much. I’m tempted to say they’ve changed even more in the span of a few months. And, since I didn’t really have much of an outline beforehand, perhaps I cannot truly call myself a full-fledged “Planner”. Still debating that one.

Although I had some small sections and paragraphs written out before November’s NaNoWriMo event this past year, thus far, the majority of my writing has been contained within the months of November and December 2016 and I am amazed at how even that previously-mentioned book outline keeps evolving (May I also just say that having an outline is definitely a good way to go. I didn’t quite know where to start, but a friend sent me a link to this amazing outline (found here), which I used to create my own. I also recommend reading the other fun and helpful tips the blog’s author, Christine Frazier writes. It’s wonderful!).

Beginning the Beginning

After I had that outline filled in a bit, at least for the first few chapters, I got to writing. But, I didn’t start with what I thought would be the very beginning. I wrote a part that I felt most passionate about. Strangely enough, it did make it to the first chapter after I realized it was a good fit! But, I kept going with writing what I felt most drawn to, or what scenes I had previously visualized. It made writing consistently MUCH easier. And, as I’ve learned, more scenes and ideas pop into your head as you get those first ones down, so you just have to keep going, no matter how you feel.

It wasn’t but a few days in to NaNoWriMo that I realized something. Despite having an outline, I actually DIDN’T know where I was going! What ending was I working toward? What goals, struggles, and conflicts was I going to have to create and then wrap up in those last few chapters? So, I fixed my problem as best I knew how. I jumped to writing my ending.

This is where I realized my mind is a deeper, more unknown place than I could ever have imagined. I had no clue where all of these words and ideas were coming from. And, if any of you follow me on Twitter, you would have seen this post…

Really, though, I was so sucked into my own, surprisingly spooky, imaginary world that I needed a break. It was a lot like the feeling you get when you read a suspenseful novel for hours and you have to pull yourself away for dinner, right at the climax. You know, where you are supposed to figure out who the villain is or whether or not the hero solves the mystery. Except… I was the one writing it and I still had no idea where my ideas were coming from. Do DOOO do…. That was just as frightening. But, cool. Definitely cool. God is mysterious… I hope He tells me how those ideas got in there some day.

Once I put on my brave pants (and probably had some comforting hot chocolate), I wrote on! And boy, did writing the ending at the beginning help so much! I could further outline my plot and think more deeply about my characters, their motivations, and what in the world they would be doing for several hundred pages. It’s only fair… it’s their lives after all.

Ch… Ch… Ch… Changes!

But, it didn’t take long into my writing for my pre-formed ideas and all those thousands of words I had gotten down to suddenly have the plot and my characters make a HUGE shift.

Yes, that was a day later, folks. Everything happened so fast. And you know what ended up happening? I split a character in two! Yep! I decided that one character was having waaaayy too much responsibility put upon him. I can tell you, though, it made things a little tricky when it came to going back and making sure there was continuity, ‘cause I really liked that character before they got all interested in my protagonist.

I’ll admit I fought this change. I remember chatting with a fellow writer friend a few days before about my plot and how my characters were going to develop. They said something like, “You should make that one character her love interest.” I was like, NOOOO! I had fallen in love with this character I created. The whole plot seemed to revolve around him… he held so many keys to so many things. He was one big, easy answer to many of the problems.

And as I wrote that day, November 4, my friend’s words hit me… and I realized they were right. And that one character shouldn’t carry the plot along so heavily and be an easy, tidy fix to all the problems in this imaginary world. I knew the novel would be so much more interesting if I allowed things to grow, to change, and become more complex. I just had to take really good notes as I went.

Taking Notes

May I note here that taking excellent notes is crucial? There’s no way around it. You’ve gotta keep track of your ideas, changes, noticeable plot holes… all of it. Especially in the moment you notice them.

I kid you not, there are pages in my Word Doc where the margins are mostly text. And the notes can be from various days. Since I go back and read through what I’ve written quite a bit, particularly when I change one part of the book that relates to another, I have notes scattered around from all different days and times of reading them. And, I always try to date them so that I know the progression of my ideas.

I also do this in the chapter outline I created. I date the changes I make, and cross out old ideas I no longer think I’ll use. But, I try not to delete them. You never know when you might use that information! It does make for a rather messy plot outline, but it’s just the way it is. Perhaps a better color coding system would do well for me. ‘Til then, I’m happy with the mess it is!

Organization and Backup

Your style of organization may be a bit of a mess, as mine can sometimes be. That’s okay, as long as you know where everything is AND have the information backed up. I have two different notebooks full of ideas, the margin notes on the actual Word Doc, the plot outline (also a Word Doc), and a few other documents into which I have taken out portions of my story. My important computer work is all backed up, but I’ll admit my handwritten stuff isn’t quite so secured. Which, is definitely not cool, because the research that isn’t in my head is in one of those notebooks. And it’s a fair amount of research. I even have my character bios in there. *Sigh* Looks like I need to take my own advice!

But, I will say, I rather like the way I keep track of things. Every time I write and take a break, I save what I have and send it through one, big email chain. It helps me know what I’ve written each day and how the document changes should I ever need to go back and reference an older version. It’s also encouraging to see the file grow bigger every time you send it!

It may also be worth saying to try to have things backed up to some kind of cloud drive as well, and maybe a hard drive or USB. Or two. Two USB copies can’t hurt. Multiple, variegated types of storage can’t hurt, either.

Further Thoughts & Helpful Tips

I have to admit I’ve become rather addicted to my book. I have this strange way of dealing with it, though. There’s this intense desire to leave it be and walk away, to gather my thoughts and do something other than write. But, at the same time, I just want to keep going, and going, and going… There are days where my whole world revolves around my book. Aside from meals and small breaks, there was a day I pretty much spent morning to morning on it (Sorry to my husband who apparently was waiting for me to go to bed at 12:30 am! :/).

I’ve seen people say that they have a love / hate relationship with their books. I get it now, but hate may be a bit strong. There are days where I feel overwhelmed by the amount of additions I’ve put into the plot, or the edits I’ll have to make, or even by simply having to just keep writing until I figure out what happens next. But, it’s a fun relationship and I really enjoy writing.

Something I recommend, if you haven’t already done it, is writing as a group. You don’t have to be in person, but you’ll definitely benefit from having a team support you. I LOVE NaNoWriMo as it brings people together at one time to get out that first draft. I dunno about you, but I do a whole lot better when I have others to work alongside, or maybe even compete with on word count a little… It’s especially nice to have people to bounce ideas off of. It’s pretty priceless, especially when you get stuck.

Read Other Writers

If you do get stuck, though, and even if you don’t, I highly recommend reading other books in the genre you’re writing! I believe this was a tip NaNoWriMo tip sent out in 2016. If two of us are saying it, it must be a thing! I’ve got a shelf of books I’ve loved since I was in elementary school and have since added to. I recently picked up quite a few, if not the majority of the fantasy books for a re-read. I have a really hard time re-reading books, so this is a big deal. I’ll tell you what, though… it helped me so much!

In fact, it helped me reconnect with another big idea. I pulled “Aurelia” by Anne Osterlund off of my shelf (Thanks for the great book, girl!) and got curious. What if she had a website… So, I did some research and found her site! She had lots of great tips on there, and apparently had released sequels to “Aurelia” (I need to get on that!). But, what I liked most is something she had written about her characters. She mentioned that during her writing, her villain slowly revealed itself… and changed!

This really hit me. In fact, I needed to hear it. I needed confirmation that it was okay to let my characters evolve and change, to not keep them in their little boxes. That another author I respected and had read had gone through this. That things reveal themselves to you as you write and that things can change for the better.

So, thank you Anne Osterlund for your continued inspiration in my life. I am happy to say that since reading about your experience, my characters have developed wings of their own and are flying happily around my mind and helping me figure out where they need to go to get to the end of those (hopefully) 21 chapters. And, maybe a sequel or two!

I love writing and sharing about my experiences and would love to help however I can. If you have any questions or fun stories of your own, let me know! You can share them with me on Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Google+, and Instagram. And if you really want to make sure you reach me, you can even email me at [email protected]. I really do love getting mail!

Chat with ya later!

Chelle Elle

“Chelle Elle” has been drawing since she was really small. No restaurant napkin was ever safe when crayons were involved! Now, she writes and illustrates characters and other fun ideas to help her dreams and the dreams of others come to life! Yes, she’s available to help with your stories and would love to hear from you.

Email her today to learn more about how she can bring your ideas to life at [email protected]!

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