#the amount i was putting in and the weight the scale showed just did not add up rip

[mirillel]

Cake i made for my dad's birthday :)

[doberbutts]

I want to talk a bit about the whole "fat trans men are denied top surgery" thing because it's true. Many surgeons have BMI requirements and will not operate on anyone classified as more than "overweight".

But I also want to discuss how testosterone often makes you gain weight, putting trans mascs in a fairly difficult position.

When I started testosterone, I weighed 178lbs. I rapidly shot up to 198lbs. At 5'10" I'm classified as just over a BMI of 30 according to my discharge papers, making me classified as obese. I also started having a bit of a cholesterol problem and being that A: I've also hit my 30s in that time and B: I have an extensive family history of high cholesterol in the men in my family, we tried changing my diet and exercise to see if it was lifestyle or if it was genetic.

In that timespan I dropped 3lbs (bringing me to 195lbs, just under that obese line) and my cholesterol continued to climb. It's been about 7 or 8 months with no other change.

When I tell people that I weigh roughly 200lbs, they don't normally believe me. To be clear I don't really care about any of these numbers, I care about my overall health irt stamina, strength, fatigue, etc and I care about my actual muscle mass and body condition. There are, admittedly, times where I look at my stomach and go :( aww I used to be skinnier. But then there's also times like two nights ago when I looked in the mirror after my shower and just saw A Guy standing there looking at me.

Anyway. My point is, testosterone (and age) made me gain a significant amount of weight, and nothing really I've done has gotten it off. Which is fine with me, because I feel better at this current condition and am stronger and have more stamina than I ever did at lower weights even when I was a competing athlete. Everyone I tell my weight and BMI to is shocked to learn that I am 200lbs and classified as obese. From complete disbelief until I stand on a scale, to the immediate "you wear it well" or "it's all muscle though", to the inevitable "okay but BMI is a load of shit anyway", clearly even though that's what the numbers say I am not exactly the poster child for what lawmakers and fat phobic doctors fear monger about when they discuss the "obesity epidemic".

I am lucky enough that while my surgeon is being very annoying in other ways, she at least has no BMI requirement. For 7 or so months I have been putting in a lot of effort to try and lose some weight to fix my cholesterol and I have pretty much nothing to show for it. If it's that hard for me, someone who visually doesn't really look fat, how difficult must it be for someone who is definitely not toeing the line like I am. How impossible for someone who is in the 400lb, 500lb, 600lb range.

Testosterone makes you gain weigh, and then surgeons won't operate if you gain too much. What a fucking joke.

[winterspiderpurrs]

Picking up the hanger, Bucky looked at the preselected clothes for his photoshoot. People were moving around the house that was rented for the shoot. He put the white dress shirt back on the hanger and moved to go sit on the chair, ready for his hair and makeup.

He is in one of the smaller bedrooms and turned into a make shift dressing room for him. Steve should have been here, but he was back in New York, currently moving back out of the loft.

History always repeats itself. Steve and himself have dated off and on since they were kids. And when his acting career set off, Steve supported him. Became his stylist, and while not his manager, he helps out a lot. Even with his own art career exploding with the extra attention he gets from going to events.

Even when they break up, they remain friends and always seem to fall back with the other. Bucky bought himself a loft during the LAST break up, and this time, it's Steve who has to move out and find a place. They can't do the roommate thing. Learned that lesson.

There was a knock on the door before in came someone Bucky didn’t recognize. Big brown eyes light up when a big smile forms on the brunettes face.

" Hey, Mr. Barnes, I know Amy is coming in soon for hair and makeup, but I wanted to ask before things got settled. "

" Call me Bucky... and ask what?"

" On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being leave the room now and forget my existence, how likely can we cut that hair and give you a totally new look since your now back on the market"

Bucky blinks and then stares at the guy.

" 3.75 and just how do you know my market status?"

The man laughs a little and starts tapping away on his phone. Probably letting Amy, the stylist, know.

" It pays to know, and I'm doing Shuri a favor by filling in for her since Mr. Rogers can't be here."

Bucky snorts and leans back in the chair. He pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek as he thinks it over. Steve is gonna be mad if he chopped his hair off...but fuck Steve at this point and for once not literally.

" A favor, huh.... It's just hair. Let's do it."

" Yes! I mean, thanks! I know the long hair look does great, and the beard. But with how much weight you lost, the hair just doesn't... work. I know you're putting back on a healthy amount back on which thank god. This hair cut is gonna make you look so much sharper and once you fill back out for the better your hair will grow with your looks and you will be thanking me when you are getting married in the next two years and oh I'm rambling."

With a small smile on his face, Bucky chuckles before standing up. " Married in two years and with a recent break up? Are you working miracles, too? And I don't even know who I'm talking to."

" Peter, Peter Parker. And how do you feel about something... flashier for wardrobe. "

" Well. Let's shake things up. "

" You won't regret this! Let me bring in what I think will work while Amy does your hair.

"Actor Bucky Barnes unrecognizable"

" Page 5 for insight of Rogers Barnes break up"

Bucky stares down at the phone before answering it.

" Hey Shuri,"

" My favorite white boy, did you get the suit that was delivered?"

" Yeah, I did, thanks."

" Perfect, we will be picking you up for the event. Peter will be happy to know his suit was selected. "

" Peter Parker, right? So he is a fashion designer? He disappeared after the photoshoot. "

" No! He is actually a scientist but he did go to fashion school to when he got bored. We meet at a runway show. So now I get to use him almost exclusively. He can't dress himself, but he can dress others."

" Almost exclusively, huh?"

" Well, one doesn't often turn down Tony Stark,"

Buckys eyebrows raise at that.

" No, they don't.. you don't happen to be -"

" able to give you his number? Ask him yourself. He is coming to the event, too."

[tobiasdrake]

Rating Rain Code Characters on the Fight Me Bruh Scale

Here we go. We're ranking all of the major characters in Rain Code based on how confident I am that I can beat them in a fight.

Swank Catsonell

I want you all to know that despite what the rumors may suggest, I absolutely did not pay him to take a dive. This was a fight I won fair and square, because I am very principled and masculine.

<.< >.>

Seth Burroughs

For all his bluster, Seth is the least threatening man in Kanai Ward. The only thing threatening about him is his control over the Peacekeepers. He does nothing for himself, even needing one of his men to carry a megaphone around for him.

Seth feels like he'd go down so fast, I'd almost feel bad for him. But then I'd remind myself that he's a fucking fascist and hit him harder.

Yakou Furio

Despite his name, Yakou's not very tough. He gets routinely floored in every fight he's in. He did manage to shank Huesca with the element of incredible surprise, but that was more a product of crafty premeditation than formidable brawling. Even when he jumped his wife's would-be assassin, we next see him beaten to hell so clearly that fight took a turn after she (and we) bailed on it.

His file says he weighs 165 lbs but I have no idea where he puts it because his body type is skeletal. A stiff breeze would knock him over.

Yomi Hellsmile

Yomi reeks of paper tiger to me. As much as he loves throwing his weight around, he's too chickenshit to throw down himself. Even with guns in both hands and people he wanted dead right in front of him, he inexplicably returned the guns to his soldiers and ordered them to shoot everyone instead.

Yomi's fighting style is to run for his life and try to find someone else to fight in his place. But those other people who would fight for him, would already be fighting instead if a fight was happening. By definition, if I'm fighting Yomi, then there's nobody around to stop me from fighting Yomi. If this fight takes place then I win it. There is no version of the fight where Yomi fights and doesn't lose.

Desuhiko Thunderbolt

When he was faking the Master Detectives' deaths, Makoto figured that Desuhiko would barely even make it out of the starting gate. He judged correctly. Desuhiko is not a fighter. He's scared of blood and sticks to undercover intelligence.

His best shot at victory would be to show up to the fight Disguised as someone tougher than him. But it's not super clear whether that would actually help him.

Vivia Twilight

From what little we see of him in action, Vivia's incredibly quick on his feet and holds his own next to Halara. He moves blindingly fast and shitstomps cops with the best of him. But that's when people he cares about are in danger.

If we're just duking it out in the street, there's a strong chance Vivia goes down with the first punch and then mutters something to the effect of, "Oh well, you got me. Guess I'll just lay here now. Maybe the small bruise from your fist will kill me. Wouldn't that be nice?"

I only win this fight if Vivia isn't motivated enough to snap my neck before I know what hit me. But I don't plan to do anything that would motivate him to do that, so this is the most likely scenario when Vivia and I throw down. I'm not proud of it but I'll take the win.

Yuma Kokohead

With a Truth Sword in hand, Yuma is incredibly formidable. He's outfought countless Mystery Phantoms and even outmatched Makoto in a swordfight. However, it's not super clear how transferrable those skills are outside of the Labyrinth setting. Most of the time when Yuma's cornered, he's powerless; However, most of the time when Yuma's cornered, guns are involved, so that's not a fair comparison.

What it amounts to is that Yuma's ability to hold his own in a street brawl is difficult to gauge. That said, his stature is intimidating in and of itself. I'm always leery of fighting someone whose height easily allows for a full-body haymaker to the junk. Short people have no chill.

Kurumi Wendy

Kurumi doesn't get many opportunities for action but given what we know of her, I don't envy my chances. She's had to evade pursuing Peacekeepers in the past, which implies she's pretty scrappy and quick on her feet. She also managed to get in and out of Dohya District while it was under a counter-terrorist lockdown, skirting through Guillaume and Dominic's police state with so little effort that it put Yuma and Fubuki's attempt to do the same to shame.

So even though she never gets to throw a punch in the entire story, she fucking scares me. I start shit, she is going to sucker-punch me in ways I couldn't possibly see coming. There is a feral beast inside of her waiting for an excuse, and I'm not talking about her homunculus biology.

Martina Electro

This woman scares me. She's Yomi's right-hand, which means she does all the physically-intensive things that he doesn't. She's in the field leading from the front and, unlike Seth, we see that she's entirely willing to take matters into her own hands.

I have no basis for saying she could probably fold me in half and feed me my own spine, and has likely done exactly that to people in the past. But I believe it.

Dominic Fulltank

Are you joking? This man is 500 lbs of solid murder.

Let me paint you a word picture. I throw a punch. I break my fist on his rock-hard abs. Then he picks me up and rips me in half with his bare hands.

Guillaume Hall

Are you joking? This girl is 150 lbs sopping wet.

Let me paint you a word picture. I throw a punch. I hit her right in the fucking face because she's not a fighter. Then goddamn Dominic appears out of nowhere, picks me up, and rips me in half with his bare hands. But with extreme prejudice this time; Before, he was just defending himself, but now he's defending his boss.

Makoto Kagutsuchi

If I could define Makoto in one word, it would be cunning. Makoto has no reservations about doing whatever it takes to win, and his ultra-genius intellect is constantly plotting and scheming. He's so physically unimpressive that he looks like he'll collapse with a rough shove, but by the time fists start flying, he's already figured out 11 different ways to kill me.

Even if he might seem to be on the backfoot at the moment, Makoto is always in control of every situation he's in. He chose the place, he chose how we fight, he chose what happens to be on hand to use in the fight, and he chose who wins. He merely let me think that I chose those things.

Fubuki Clockford

We see precious little of what Fubuki's capable of in a fight. But she's no stranger to it. When Yuma first asked her to clear out the coffee shop patrons, her kneejerk go-to was to try violence. He had to talk her into a distraction instead. So she's clearly been in fights before.

Her biggest asset is her ability to save scum, though that has its limitations. It takes a lot out of her every time she turns back time, often leaving her winded and gasping for breath by the second reset. The stamina cost offsets the advantage of temporal prescience, especially in a street brawl.

But that advantage is powerful nonetheless. Do I feel confident that I could take Fubuki in a fight? Sure. Do I feel confident I could take her in five out of five fights? That's much more intimidating. Fubuki only has to win once. She decides which match "counts".

Halara Nightmare

Halara can take Fubuki in five out of five fights. Halara can take anyone in five out of five fights. Consecutively. Simultaneously. However you want to go, you'll regret it fast. We see them in action plenty and it's always the same: Halara Nightmare is violence incarnate.

Some fighters hit like a sledgehammer. Some hit like a truck. Halara hits like hospital anaesthetic; You blink and then wake up seven hours later with your kidney removed and no idea where the time went. They put me down so fast that I spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what even happened. Like a Hangover movie but instead of being drunk I got my ass kicked.

They are, and shall remain, the reigning champion of violence in Kanai Ward.

Real Yuma

I want you all to know that despite what the rumors may suggest, he absolutely did not offer me free ramen in exchange for taking a dive. This was a fight I lost fair and square, because we are both very principled and masculine.

<.< >.>

*slurp*

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 4 "A night of passion"

Summary: For the first time in days, Astarion and Leeith have an evening free from any burden; an evening they'll spend in each other's cold embrace, laying on a pretty clearing in the forest.

Content: NSFW chapter. (finally) pretty tame sex and a bit of orgasm denial/teasing (the real kinky stuff will come later, dw, I just think their relationship needs to develop more for that). Blood sucking because, you know, hot.

Please comment and tell me what you think or if you have any critiques.

Word Count: 5.5k

Read on AO3

Leeith was in charge of cooking that evening at camp. A few pans were in front of her, frying fresh water fish with a side of mushrooms and carrots. A few times already, someone had jokingly asked if poison was her people's special spice or if she could serve antidotes instead of wine and beer. She really wanted to throw some broken glass in the dinner, since that could kill everyone without it being technically poison, but she still needed her companions. No mass killings today, unfortunately. 

Besides, she wanted to enjoy eating the food she prepared: in the underdark she only had two choices, either go to a tavern where no one had ever heard of her - pretty hard since she led a group of criminals - or learn how to cook. Any other food was probably laced with poisons and it was better to starve and be safe. 

After sunset, everyone got round the campfire for dinner. They inspected their dishes and smelt them conspicuously, except for Karlach and Lae’zel, who ate without a fuss. The drow kept smiling at her companions, explaining the properties of different poisonous mushrooms they had in the underdark, but a certain sense of resentment and loneliness flared up her bile, turning into anger. Sure, she did play into the stereotypes of her people sometimes, especially against her enemies, but not once she had laid a finger against her party, except for Gale, who really only got threatened. If this was going to last much longer, filling up the food of whoever crossed her with poison would be the least she was going to do. 

She glanced at each and everyone of her companions, studying them as they drank and laughed. Few had done nothing to cross her, but it was probably just a matter of time before they too, would betray her trust in some way. It was better to be ready to act and free herself of dead weight before they’d try to cut her in half or make her head explode… or place a dagger in her throat. Astarion was staring at her from behind the fire with a knowing smirk. He wasn’t eating for obvious reasons, but still partook in conversation. 

He wasn’t trustworthy either. His personality would have fit well in the underdark, so sly and agile, the perfect backstabber. Leeith smiled back at him. He was fun though, so he would get a pass for the time being. 

The first to leave the gathering was Lae’zel, who wanted to be ready for the morning, then Shadowheart, after finishing a last cup of wine. Gale, Wyll and at last Karlach went away to take care of things in their tents. Leeith remained in front of the fire pit, readying her small alchemy set. Along with her was the vampire, who was lost with his eyes pointed up, stargazing. For a while, she ignored him, getting ingredients ready in different little pots, glancing between the notes and a small scale to weigh the right amount of herbs and oils. Only when everything was put over coals to heat up gently, did she sit beside the vampire. He noticed her presence getting closer and twisted his head to look at her. There wasn't an expression on his face, neither happiness nor rage. 

"How are you feeling, Astarion?" She crossed her legs, showing him a gentle smile. 

"I'm brooding. Nights like this are made for reliving the best moments of your life." If he was sad or genuine, she couldn't tell. 

"Don't you get enough of that in your trance?" She giggled a bit to ease the atmosphere.

"You see, my memories are not what you could call… charming, darling. But they are quite striking." He didn't seem to pay much mind to what he said, waving his hands in the air like a drama actor. Leeith shrugged: telling him to just remember other things while trancing probably wasn't the greatest advice she could give, so she was left with the next best solution after ignoring the problem.

"Want to get drunk again tonight? Properly this time. And then you can try to beat me at a knife throwing competition." She made the knife spin in the air, the blade still stained in green from some alchemy ingredient. Before she could catch it again, Astarion snatched it by the blade, pointing its handle towards her. 

"I had something better in mind." He sat up to get closer to her. His voice was lower both in tone and volume.

"And what might that be?" She returned a coy little grin, leaning towards him. 

"It's a quiet evening for once. Perfect for two people who want to take some time for themselves, if you catch my meaning." He caressed her jaw with just one finger, lingering for a few seconds on the soft flesh connecting her head and neck. "And I do mean sex, to be clear. We've been waiting long enough." He laughed, letting go of her. Leeith smirked: if it was up to her, she would have already jumped, pin him to the ground and taken her pleasures. A glance around the camp changed her mind.

"Alright, but where will we go?" She held his hand, feeling his cold skin under her thumb.

"Let's find our own little place of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness." He motioned at the camp and their heads, trapping her gaze in his. The vampire reached for her shoulder, pulling her closer as if to share a secret. His lips barely grazed on her ear. "There's a secluded place nearby that should do nicely. Wait until the others are asleep, then come find me there."

"I'll see you there." She purred in his ear, tightening her grasp on his hand.

"Indeed you will, my love. I can't wait." They let go of one another, and after one last glance, they both went in different directions. Leeith returned to brew her potions, biting her lips in anticipation and daydreaming about the night to come. 

One by one, candles and torches were snuffed out, plunging the little camp they had in darkness; all shades of grey and black for the drow, but all perfectly visible up to the edges of the hill. Even her campfire had mostly died down, but she didn't care to fix it since she would be going away shortly. The drow was thinking of what they would be doing together, but had very little knowledge of what the vampire actually liked or wanted, except her blood. Even though she had many partners in her life, she was never good at reading what they wanted or preferred. Long term relationships were better for that, but those came with a long list of other problems, ones much harder to deal with. 

Even whilst laying down, she saw Astarion quietly sneak away, in a flash of white. A burst of energy ran down her spine, telling her to jump up and follow him… but it would have been funnier to let him wait, get a bit desperate and arrive just as he realised this might have all been a fluke. And so she waited, getting herself ready for him, fixing her eye liner in the mirror he used, wearing delicate jewellery and a light perfume. If she wasn't camping out in the forest, she would have worn her best underwear, something lacey and silky. The softest thing she had here was her bare skin. 

After making sure everyone was truly asleep, she went for the forest, throwing a long cloak over her shoulders. She didn't really know where this place was, but it couldn't have been too far. The drow paid close attention to any nook and cranny for a silver flash or anything alerting her of the vampire's presence, but even with that knowledge, she was surprised when he appeared right in front of her, wearing only a smile and his trousers. His slim body stood out from the darkness of the trees, almost shining as bright as the moon. He opened his arms, getting closer.

Leeith took a deep breath, letting go of all her worries and grievances for tonight. She wasn't going to let anything spoil her fun: only the gods knew when another moment of respite was going to come and she didn't want to ruin what could have very well been her last one. She bit her lip, feeling a certain tingling sensation build up in her lower abdomen. 

"There you are, I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." With each word he took one small step closer, filling her vision with his presence. "Waiting to have you." He smelled of citrus and rosemary cologne.

"Mhh, you don't have me yet." She smirked, taking one small step backwards. His words were so inviting for the occasion: picture perfect, as if he knew exactly what everyone wanted to hear. He was going to need a bit more effort than that. 

"Don't I? You're here. And, I don't think you want to talk." He lifted his eyebrow in a knowing gaze. "I think you want to be known, to be tasted." His voice turned low and silky, while a hand reached up for her chin, raising it to have a better look. 

"And what do you want?" She reached up to intertwine their fingers, feeling the skin of his hand, every little scar and wrinkle. It was cold like the night, but as soft as autumn air.

"What does everyone want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy." In a rush, he grabbed both of her hands, placing a kiss on each of them, and then on the wrist, running his lips upwards the inner part of the forearm. Leeith was pleasantly surprised by all this fanfare: she was expecting a much more… detached approach to the night: lay on the ground, have fun for some time and be on their way. She wasn't expecting the vampire to still court her.

"Isn't that what you want? To lose yourself in me?" He tensed up as if he was afraid of something, maybe being rejected again, thought the drow. Leeith rolled her eyes at all this cloying sweetness and, with a smirk, unclasped the pin holding her cape. The woollen cloth fell at her feet with a soft thud, revealing her naked body, covered only in a few golden chains. 

The vampire raised an eyebrow, looking at her from head to toe and back: he was surprised, but certainly content with how things were going. Without another moment lost to talk, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Leeith shivered when their naked chests met: she expected heat, what any partner had offered her, but this was closer to hugging a soft marble column. Not that it mattered now, as she crossed her arms above his shoulders, pulling him down towards her. 

His lips were soft and the drow could feel his fangs pressing on her. She grabbed his face, pushing herself closer, so that he'd open his mouth. The taste of his tongue, of his teeth, it was so metallic, like iron and copper. She liked it, and went ahead to twist their tongues together. 

The vampire wasn't going to stand there and take it passively. His hands ran down to her hips, feeling the curve of her bottom, his fingers sank into the soft flesh of her thighs and then swiftly he lifted her high. The drow gasped when she suddenly lost the ground from below her feet, looking down with a smile. The elf pushed her against a tree; The bark was rough against her back, but she had worse in the past; a few scratches weren’t going to intimidate her. 

Astarion kissed her again, but it was just a small peck, enough to have all of the attention back to him. “I’ve got more cards up my sleeve.” He caught her gaze and went for her mouth, clinging to her warm body, pushing himself ever closer. Leeith locked her legs tighter, not because she was afraid to slip, but to feel all of him. His hard muscles, tensed from lifting her, the little scars all over his back, from ancient battles or… something worse probably. No reason to think about that now and bring down the mood. 

No, what she was concentrating on was much more appealing, firing her mind with images and possibilities. With her legs so tight around his hips, she could feel his hard length pressing on her core. It must have been painful to have it so constricted, but it was even more painful for her to feel it rub against her clit, sparking a faint pleasure that inflamed her, rising so slowly it almost annoyed her. She was greedy and already wanted a lot more than just some kisses and his hands groping her ass. 

She planted both her feet on the tree behind her and pushed them. Astarion lost his balance, stumbled back a few steps, and fell down on the cold grass. The drow lunged on top of him like a feral beast, placing her hands at either side of his head. Her short hair cascaded in front of her face, wild like the look on her eyes. She grinned and bit her lip, admiring Astarion below her. His curls were a bit less perfect and his face had a tinge of shock. It disappeared in an instant, as he grabbed her hips and forced her to sit down on him. She tasted iron and copper again, as they both claimed each other’s mouth. 

And then the vampire raised his hips, rubbing his length on her and earning a small moan. Leeith felt so turned on: she didn’t know if it was the fact she hadn’t fucked in so long or if she just wanted him that much, but she was sure her pussy had started to throb and claim more. She sat up, panting and licking her lips. If it was any normal man, the drow would have already tied his hands up, slashed his trousers and pants and taken her pleasures. Any male drow would have been more than fine with that and she wouldn’t care about a surface dweller, but the vampire was another problem: whips and ropes or any other fun tool were probably out of the picture. She took one deep breath to calm herself, then grabbed his right hand, gently raising it up. 

“Is there anything you don’t like, Astarion? What is it that you don’t want me to do?” Her thumb again went to feel his skin, slowing the pace of their act. 

“Darling, if I’m bedding a drow it is because I want it wild and risky. Where’s all the energy from earlier, mh?” He tightened his grip on her hips and tried to push her to the side, but she stood her ground and smiled gently. Leeith broke eye contact to look at her finger following the wrinkles of his palm, caressing them gently. 

“I don’t want you to pull out any dagger or weapon - except the ones in your pants and mouth, to be clear - nor cast any spells without asking.” She locked her eyes on his again. His expression had mellowed out, from a cocky and pompous one, to serious and huffed. “Show a blade anywhere near the vicinity of me, and I’ll be the one to blast your body against a tree.” He took a few seconds to answer, his hand following the line of her thigh down to the ground. 

“I- I don’t want you to pose as my mistress or owner.” There was pain in his voice, but an instant later his defences were up again and all the sorrow was hidden behind a snarky smirk. “Like asking a fish not to swim, I know. Woe is you, little drow.” He chuckled and, this time with more force, managed to get back up on top of her. Leeith laughed, letting him take control. 

Astarion was gently following the curves of her body, avoiding the many little scars that punctuated it. His soft touch made her shiver when he reached the waist, yet his fingers kept creeping downwards, past her navel, threatening to give her pleasure at any moment. She needed that, but she wanted something else before, something that could make the whole night a lot more magical.

The drow raised his head by the chin, and with just a smile, freed her neck from any hair, exposing the puncture scars. 

“Why don’t you take something? A little boost of energy for the night.” He stopped dead in his tracks, travelling back up with both his eyes and head, up to her face. He pressed his cock back between her legs, making her just imagine what would await. Without a second thought, Leeith crossed her limbs behind his back, pulling him even closer to grind on him. The faint pleasure made her pussy drool and protest, growing more and more uncomfortable. 

“You’re such a delectable little pet.” He huffed, ravaging her neck with kisses and tiny little bites. Astarion lifted her head up to give himself more space and, an instant later, the bite arrived, along the mind twirling, ravishing pain that came with it. The drow loudly moaned, arching her back as her blood flew in his mouth. She grasped at his locks and shoulders, needing something to keep her stable while he sucked on her skin. 

God it felt so good! The blood turned him on fire, it seemed like it would give him the energy to do all that he wanted the whole night. He felt his trousers grow way too tight and uncomfortable, so much so that, while still attached to her neck like a tick, he had to kick them off. Their souls were meeting and just as he grew more and more excited, she followed, no doubt feeding on each other's desire. The vampire’s hand cupped one of her breasts, twisting and squeezing her nipple harshly. She whined and moaned, sinking her nails in his back and raising her hips, rubbing her wetness on his now uncovered boner, almost able to catch the tip, slide it deep inside them and finally free them. She already wanted to give in, to pierce her wet cunt and fill her with his cum by the end.

He never had a woman be that needy below him: desperately clinging to him for any amount of pleasure, wetting his cock so much, without it even being inside, and above all, pushing his head on her neck to suck more. For a moment it felt… nice. But it was fleeting. 

The connection broke and her body went limp, tired. Dizziness overtook him and he knew he had his fill. It was the time to respect his part of the deal. 

His tongue ran up on her neck, still bloodied and red, trying to clean as much as possible. Leeith was more than burning. She needed to get her legs spread and cunt filled instantly. She cupped his cheeks, not caring about the blood running down her shoulders and breasts, and forced their lips together. She had to agree, as their tongues danced together, fresh blood was delicious, but like a savoury broth, not honeyed wine. 

His hands were running everywhere on her, sometimes caressing her, giving her shivers, others clenching and twisting, holding her down by the waist or pinching her thighs and ass. His tongue trailed down from her lips back to her neck, following the droplets of blood past her collarbones and on her breasts. The drow bit her lips as he started to play with her nipples, twisting it around his tongue and suckling the blood that had run off. She stared at him half lidded, running her nails on his back, feeling his bumps and scars. Her hands went down to his crotch, feeling the lower part of his abdomen with her thumbs. She tried to get closer to his manhood, but the vampire stopped her, pinning her wrist to the ground. 

“Just relax and let me take over, darling.” He whispered in between kisses and soft bites. “My debts are way overdue.” 

Astarion’s fingers began caressing her inner thighs, up and down, each time getting closer to her core. They traced the outside of her lips, making Leeith squirm and moan in anticipation. But every time he’d get near, he would remain just shy of her clit, instead biting harder on her nipple, so that she’d feel his fangs leaning on her flesh. 

“Stop- teasing me, elf.” She said, annoyed at how long it was taking to get to the main course. The elf lifted his head and stared at her smirking. At once, his fingers went deep, down to the knuckle, and then out, swiping upwards and flicking her clit on the way. She yelped in surprise, melting under his touch. All the displeasure though returned, when he stared at his shining fingers against the moonlight. 

“But I enjoy teasing so much. How else would I be able to get you this wet?” He kissed her jaw, then started whispering. “Gods, how can you be so aroused? Is it all because of me, mh, pet?” He fingered her again, this time taking his time to explore all of her folds, putting only the softest of pressures. Her pussy was so slick, as he went up and down it, circling her clit, then inserting just the tip of his fingers, enough to coat the rest of her in juices. Leeith tried to ease her muscles, to relax and drown in the pleasure. She shut her eyes, concentrating on his motions. With every circle he went just a bit deeper, a bit faster, until one of his slender fingers was deep in her, touching the sensitive mound inside of her. She moaned when he added another finger, all the while still taking care of her breasts. His fingers curled and cut, feeding the flames. 

“Astarion.” She whimpered. Her hands were shaking, but she grabbed his head all the same, to look in his eyes. “I want more. I want you to- fuck me properly.” She tried to keep her voice steady and assertive, but it was hard while the vampire fingered her so frantically and her skin was covered in goosebumps. Astarion just smiled, and added another finger to the mix. The drow threw her head back and tried clenching her thighs, but Astarion was firmly in the middle. 

“You squirm so gorgeously, darling. But I am an understanding man.” He took away all of his fingers, leaving her cunt to clench around nothing. “You just have to say the magic little word.” His hands went back to roam about her skin, while he better positioned himself between her legs. Gods, she could feel his hard cock swipe up and down her slit, barely pressing in her entrance, just to move up again. She couldn’t help but grind her hips a little. She felt her pride torn to shreds for being in this position under not only a man, but a surface elf at that. Lolth would have not looked at her kindly. But he was a vampire, so maybe he had to get a pass. 

“Ugh… Please.” She bit her lips and furrowed her brow, but her reddened cheeks still gave away her arousal and loosening conviction. 

“Mh? What did you say?” The vampire pushed her hips down to the ground, so that she couldn’t move anymore, removing even the little bit of respite that came from grinding on him.

“Please, I would like to get fucked now, blood sucker.” She huffed, pulling him closer by the waist.

“Tks, still a bit too feisty, but I can work on that.” Astarion spread her legs apart, sliding his cock on her wet folds, stirring small shivers of pleasure in the drow. The tip of his dick tested her entrance. There was some resistance, as the tight walls of her cunt adjusted to him. Leeith whimpered against his ear: She knew he was big and she hadn’t had any fun in a while, but didn’t expect it to feel so… shattering, almost unable to fit. He slowed down, moaning for how tightly his girth was being swallowed. 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question puzzled the drow. 

“Uh? I mean, I can act as one. I’ve heard virgin blood tastes better.” She chuckled, crossing her legs above his back and arms behind his nape. 

He closed the gap between their faces and bit her lower lip, enough to draw blood with his fangs. “You’re already delicious enough” He purred. 

With all doubts cast aside, he slammed himself down on her. She saw stars and arched her back, yelping in surprise. That didn’t stop the vampire, who simply bit her lip again, the taste of blood reinvigorating his cock. He pulled out slowly, making her feel every inch of his dick leaving her body. And then she had to endure as he pushed his length back in her, down to the hilt. A few tears left from the side of her eyes, as she bit her hand, the pleasure coursing through her. But he was still toying with her, probably enjoying how her thighs clenched around him and her walls pulsed around his girth. The drow raised her hips to meet him and pushed him inside with her legs. Astarion grinned and pressed his thumb on her clit. 

“Alright alright. I’ll quit the games. Just don’t start crying when it gets too much.” His voice dropped to a husky tone, whilst his free hand pinned her wrist on the ground. 

“Be glad I’m not the one riding you.” She moaned back, urging him to move. Without a second thought, he began thrusting in and out of her, one hand at the side of her head for support, the other pleasuring her clit in tempo with his motions. She moaned and grappled him closer, raising her hips to give him a better angle. Judging by all the noises her pussy was making, she must have been a wet mess, drooling all over his thick, long cock. It was reaching deep in her, stretching her walls and filling every sensitive crevice. His pace was constant and steady, fast enough to pleasure the both of them without getting overwhelming. The pace of an expert, who had done this again and again. His thumb circled around her clit, never giving it a moment to rest, keeping Leeith's entire body locked in pleasure.

Her voice grew higher and her hands went everywhere on his body, now slightly warm thanks to the fresh blood coursing through. His cock felt the warmest, still pumping relentlessly, pushing further and further, breaking each and every barrier. The drow trebled in pleasure, feeling a weight raising in her core. It was very hard to keep herself from digging her nails into his flesh.

She opened her eyes and playfully bit his neck, wanting to also leave a purple bruise on his perfect ivory skin and hear a moan or groan escape from his closed lips. Astarion didn't react, his eyes lost somewhere deep in his mind. Leeith cupped his cheek, gently caressing his smooth face . 

"Are you alright?" She whispered. Maybe he was just concentrating on his thrusts. The vampire looked down, dumbfounded at first, then smirking. 

"How could I not be, darling?" He sat up, trailing his hands on her thighs, down to the ankles. "I think we both just need a little bit more excitement." with that he lifted both her legs on his shoulders and tugged her closer, hitting his thighs with her buttocks. 

“Gods, I love where this is goin- ahh!” she was interrupted by him plunging his cock back inside of her, thumb back on her clit and ramming in her like nothing had ever happened. Her cunt was quick to fire up again, clenching around his boner even harder than before. The sensation of being full, the pleasure stemming from her insides and coating her brain in a soft, fluffy glaze. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her blood rush through her ears. The vampire’s hands were rough on her, one relentlessly pleasuring her, the other sinking in her flesh, reddening it. Her noises were uncontrollable, no matter how hard she bit her lip or covered her mouth with her hands; she decided not to even care, moaning and calling for gods like her life depended on it.

The pleasure was so deep, always shy of touching her cervix and hurting her, but pounding her sweet spot again and again. With each thrust, some juices left her, drooling down her ass. With each thrust, the weight in her core built up, as if more and more chains were locking it.

She admired Astarion, who was looking down at her legs, preoccupied with his motion. Even him though, no matter how hard he was trying, judging by his furrowed brow, couldn't contain his moans and groans much longer. The more her pussy squeezed his cock, the less thin his lips became, until they finally parted and a moan escaped them, followed by a sigh of relief. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, circling and flicking it vigorously, not a second to rest and let her come down from the high. 

Leeith was trying to meet his thrusts, while she held his hands, just gently following them. The closer she got to her orgasm, the harder it was to concentrate and move at the same pace, her hips rolling quicker, in an effort to release sooner. Astarion steadied them, but even he was getting more sensitive. The chains in Leeith’s core grew and grew, but the lock was finally getting undone. Her pussy throbbed and squeezed hard around his cock, wanting to keep him in. It was amazing he still managed to move inside of that clamp. 

“Astarion-” She breathed out at last, clenching his forearm. “Keep going… I- I’m about to come.” She loosened her muscles, ready to let herself reach her peak. 

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so.” He almost growled. He grabbed both of her wrists, pushing them above her head. He leaned in on her, bringing her legs down with him. “You’re holding on until I am ready.” He spanked her ass before squeezing it. “And then I’ll want to hear you beg.” The drow chuckled and held his head with her free hand. 

“Now it’s getting good, blood-sucker!” She forced his mouth open, crashing their faces together. His hips were completely lost, the urge to come making them erratic and brutal. He was ramming her without any care in the world, plunging his cock balls deep. If a few minutes ago he was trying to carefully pick her locks, now his desire was just that of smashing the door down. She was dangerously close to coming, but so was him for how much his cock throbbed. 

“Ast-arion… may I?” She whispered directly in his ear, breathy and low. It sent shivers down his spine, his cock hardening and ready to burst. 

“Come for me, pet.” He groaned. He glanced at her neck, still crimson with blood. He couldn’t resist. 

Leiiths felt his fags sink deep. The pain overwhelmed her just as much as the pleasure did, all in one moment. She shut her eyes, blood rushing to her ears and to her shoulder. Someone called his name right in his ear. An overwhelming pleasure consumed him as the drow tensed and squirmed under him. He could feel her come around his aching length, squeezing the life out of him like a succubus. The blood spilled into his mouth, coating it like a syrup, breathing life into his long dead lungs and heart. For just an instant, he felt his heart flutter alive. An instant later, he moaned: bliss, the most he had ever felt in two hundred years, finally saturated his body, making his muscles shake and tremble. He sank both his fangs and his cock more in her, as he came, filling her with his thick, warm cum, just as he was drinking her scarlet, sanguine liquor. Their brains were fuzzy and inebriated. Their pleasure mixing and multiplying against each other.  At the end, his muscles gave in, falling on her, cock still throbbing gently. She was warm and soft. 

The drow panted, her fingers caressing Astarion’s back gracefully. It seemed like he didn’t want to move away from her. The drow tapped his shoulder, wanting to shift to the side: now that it was calm, she discovered soreness in her back and the weight wasn't helping. Fortunately the elf rolled to the ground, extending his arms to the sides like a snow angel. Without asking, she rested her head on his forearm, gaining a weird glace from the vampire. In all answer, she extended her own arm, sliding it behind his head. 

Her cheeks were still flushed, giving them a purplish hue when mixed with her blue skin. 

"It's much better than bare earth, no?" She smiled.

[triflesandparsnips]

hey hey guess what it's time for

Update 4: Return of the (Soap) King

For those who haven't been following along, I've been having a nice time doing experimental archaeology and recreating cosmetics/household goods that are historically plausible for local idiot pirate Stede Bonnet to have had around.

Figure 1. Me, addressing my kitchen appliances.

So far we've had successful lip balm, yet-to-be-completed Oil of Lavender, the terrible tragedies that have so far befallen the pearl face cream, and, finally, the unending journey of the one household item actually mentioned on the dang show: the lavender soap (with updates 1-3 and several mini-updates).

Did this all secretly derive from my researching period-appropriate medical horror? Yes. Am I still going to write about it? Of course come on now I can't just keep that enema information to myself--

But TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY.

Figure 2. One very excited ship's surgeon who will unfortunately have to bide his fuckin time.

Nope, today we're on the next iteration of the lavender soap, because we're still at the "fuck around and find out" portion of this experimental process-- and so, behold:

Version 3.0 7 oz. dried soap 4 oz. ground orrisroot 1 oz. ground whole cloves 1 oz. ground benjamin 10 drops lavender essential oil oil of lavender, q.s. rosewater, q.s.

You may notice that I have, tragically, only added enough of anything lavenderish to allow myself the honesty of still calling this "lavender" soap -- as previously discussed, lavender essential oils (as we know them today) were not really a Thing, and the Oil of Lavender (...which is not an essential oil, but rather an infusion of lavender flowers and olive oil) is not quite ready for primetime scent vibes, so I genuinely don't think these are comparable to actually just grinding up and shoving in the dried flowers.

But for the sake of Science, I needed to find out if removing the flowers would help with the browning issue of previous versions, so-- out went the lavender. For now.

Figure 3. Oh no, I-- oh man, don't cry, I'm sorry, I'll put it back omg.

Other changes in this version are:

store-bought ground orrisroot (...listen, Thomas is but a wee lad, and not yet hearty enough to wreck regular orrisroot as hard as it needs);

store-bought ground benzoin (because it was cheaper to buy in bulk that the solid resin from the woo-woo shop);

increased the amount of orrisroot from 1 ounce to 4 ounces, in keeping with some other recipes, to try and bulk up the myristic acid content (i.e., the thing wot makes olive-oil based Nabulsi soap actually produce a bubbly lather)

I should at this point say that typically the scientific process recommends making only one change at a time when conducting Experiments, so that one may know what exactly affected a change in a positive, negative, or neutral manner.

Consider, however, that I have no patience. So fuck it, we ball.

Show us the soap, trifles

To get to the soap, you must first suffer through mortifying ordeal of process photos.

Figure 4. The ground orrisroot on my tiny digital scale (that actually measures grains, which itself is a holdover from apothecary measurements!)

Wait wait wait actually look at my tiny bullshit scale, I love it, look at its little one-gram calibration weight:

Figure 5. A baby.

Figures 6 and 7. An ounce of whole cloves (left) and the results of young Thomas's efforts thrown on top of the orrisroot and benjamin in the mortar (right).

I should note that rather than grinding the cloves in my granite mortar and pestle first, I put them straight into Thomas's maw-- I don't know if that led to how intensely clove-oily these grounds are, or the fact that the lavender flowers were not present to soak it up. Previously I got a grey-green powder out of grinding the both together, so this rich, wet clove-color did not bode well for my "can I stop this from being brown?" soap plans...

Figure 8. ...Or maybe it'll be fine? I added the dried soap, and now look at them all mixed together!

As a note, I had to actually use a whisk at this point rather than just rely on my pestle to do the work -- my mortar is Too Small for these shenanigans, and the four ounces' worth of orrisroot did not help matters. I won't say how much of this mix ended up outside the mortar and on my clothes, but it was... it was a non-zero amount.

Whatever, thought I. This is Science. This is me experiencing the divine art of creation across space-time with my alchemical forebears, and also this is why I should not be allowed in other people's kitchens.

Notably, the upped powder content meant that I had to add a lot more splashes of rosewater to get to a dough-y state where the soap could be hand-rolled, and I had to work significantly longer with the pestle-- while version 2.0 was, per my notes, about 8-10 minutes' worth of work, I would call this a solid 20 minutes at least of beating the ever-loving shit outta this mix until everything was incorporated.

And once it was, well--

Figure 9. Hello, brown.

As you can see, the soap mix does form up very nicely, though it still requires a spatula to clear the sides of the mortar and pestle.

At this point, remembering that the last time I hand-rolled wash balls my palms came away Very Brown, I donned some latex gloves before I commenced my rolling. However, because (and again, I cannot stress this enough) I lack patience, I threw in another change: rather than leaving them as balls, I squished them slightly between my palms to flatten them into slightly more traditional soap shapes.

Figure 10. Cookie dough or falafel: you decide.

A note regarding the scent: Whether it's the relative lack of the lavender, or the big bump to the orrisroot (or some magic alchemical combination of the two), the soaps, while still smelling strongly like spice cookies, now have an oddly-unfamiliar-but-fascinating scent profile, similar to what I found happened when I made the lip pomatum. There's no good reason why this should make me believe that I've come closer to a "real" recipe, but the feeling is there nonetheless -- and it's definitely interesting.

Finally, and because the flat sides of these soaps looked too innocent, too pure, I decided to try that octopus stamp again. For future reference, stamping immediately after making these? Not a great idea. The soap stuck to the stamp like a motherfucker, and so a lot of detail was lost. But regardless--

Figure 11. Spice cookie kraken soap cakes, holy shit.

And now, I actually do have to wait a few days before I can try them out, or they'll fall the fuck to pieces. Keep watch for mini-updates, though, as I check out how they dry and probably do more unfortunate stamp experiments on them.

[tjreidwrites]

I used to have a movie review website. I also posted those reviews on Instagram back in 2020. I want to give some of those reviews new life on here. I’ll start with my favorite superhero movie, Spider-Man 2.

SPIDERMAN 2 REVIEW (2004)

Let’s be honest. The first Spider-Man back in the early early 2000’s was a fun time. Maybe a bit overrated though, right? Sam Rami takes what worked in the first installment, and adds amazing story telling, better action, better special effects, and truly realized characters into the fold. This is the first example of the way a superhero movie should be and holds up today. Nothing has been quite like it.

Spider-Man is revealed to be a burden in so many ways to Peter Parker. So much so, that its ruining his life. This movie does everything right when it comes to characters and character development. So many superhero movies before this took so little time with the people behind the mask. I remember even as a kid first viewing this movie, being taken on a emotional roller coaster I wasn't expecting. Peter’s problems become very real to us. The amount of time he spends as Spider-Man forces him to put his actual life on the back burner. This movie is charming, thought provoking, action packed and heart breaking.

Otto Octavius (Alfred Molina) is working on a dangerous experiment. He needs materials only Harry Osborn can provide. His experiment will either prove fusion can work as a cheap source of energy, or destroy all of New York. To handle all the moving parts, Octavius creates four super powered tentacles that are built into his spine and have intelligence of their own. The chip at the head of the contraption is designed to help him keep control of his thoughts. When the chip is destroyed, we welcome Doc Ock.

Peter Parker’s inner battle is easy to become attached to. He can't love Mary Jane, because her life would be threatened 24/7 from Spider-Man’s enemies. We watch as she gives up on Peter, who can't make time for her. Peter has a lot of heart felt moments with Mary Jane as well as Aunt May (Rosemary Harris), who has a lot of screen time. All while Peter has to deal with Harry, who likes Peter but hates Spider-Man with every fiber of his being. We want Peter to just tell Harry the truth about what happened in the first film, but sympathize with him for not knowing how.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Toby Maguire nails this role. Its true. Say what you want about the first film being cartoony, campy, this one Toby shines. In this movie, he is the true Peter Parker. He did everything right. This movie does an immaculate job keeping the dialogue just as interesting as the action. Sure, some sentences are just cheesy enough to remind us that we are watching a movie, but it works. The drama in this movie steals the show every time you watch.

Every character in this movie takes what happened in the first one, and grows as individuals so much. Mary Jane, Harry, Peter, Aunt Mae all have character arcs that pay off massively. Sam Rami nailed the mechanics of Spidey’s web slinging throughout the city. No longer looking cartoony, but instead honing in on the special effects of the time, and looking amazing on the screen.

I’ve watched this movie countless times and know I will watch it even more. The storylines weaving in and out, and the weight of the situation being more real than any superhero film before its time, they knocked this one out of the park. I love this movie and on an overall scale, It has to be the best superhero movie of all time. I think there's an argument to be had on the topic, but there isn't anything wrong with this film.

[the-firebird69]

They say it's absurd but it's not really. This is not comparable to the f650 no this is a real semi truck. It's called a light semi and it is but you can tell a massive amount of weight and it's designed to and it has a frame an engine to suit and transmission and it is set up to haul fairly long distances several hundred miles at a time. When it starts rolling you don't want to be in the way when it's not going to load it's easy to stop it has tons of power and our son is thinking he could get one of these when he's around 9 ft and that's about right or even 8 ft is going to wait too much or even the f650 which he probably will have. There's only a few other vehicles that he can use no at that time this is going to be it he will be stuck with it and there is a timetable at 400 lb he's reached his limit with compact cars and it's the size of the Kia driving them around it's not that bad but when you're on the highway it will lean to the left almost no matter what you do if you put two people on the right one in back and one in the passenger seat it starts to crab and people say it too with Big Joe it's a pain in the ass and a son didn't notice too much no he didn't but people driving around them did and they said boy that thing is lopsided and her son saying I don't notice it but for real it wasn't that far off and our son weighs a lot you feel about 2:50 either screwing around with a scales all of them and they're just jerks so at some point he's going to weigh as much as his grandpa and it's a pain in his grandpa said it I need to have a big truck and I can't get one here and a bunch of assholes but about it and he said what about an old cop car and he goes same thing no good idea though and eventually tried to get one and he did and they thought it was a weird looking car but it worked no it didn't work and he couldn't get it so son will have to go to a full size sedan then after 450 lb he will have to get to a truck and F-250 is not going to do it F-350 will until he is 500 lb then he needs enough 450 then he will gain more weight at 5:50 the f650 will be not enough when he's about 600 lb the international harvester is enough to probably about 800 lb and then he needs custom stuff. And actually the harvester is custom. He says there's a few more things to do I want him to post it to show people what it's going to be like

Thor Freya

Olympus

[eazy-group]

Update: Cassie lost more than 100 pounds

New Post has been published on https://eazydiet.net/update-cassie-lost-more-than-100-pounds/

Update: Cassie lost more than 100 pounds

Cassie lost 100+ pounds. We recently reached out to her, asking her to share how she’s maintained her success despite challenges. Incorporating the 80/20 rule into her eating plan and working out five days a week are two of the healthy habits she’s embraced.

Social Media: Instagram: @coc1986 YouTube: https://youtube.com/user/cassiec1986

Check out the feature we did on Cassie’s journey back in 2022.

What is your current weight? 281 pounds

How have you maintained your weight loss/continued to lose weight? Despite some challenges, I’ve maintained my weight loss by exercising five days a week (strength three times a week and walking daily), intermittent fasting, and sticking to the 80/20 rule for my eating habits (clean eating 80% of the time with 20% for my fav treats in moderation and slight calorie deficit). I do take breaks periodically to increase my calorie intake. 

Of the lessons you’ve learned on your journey, which one stands out the most at this point?  The scale only plays a small role in your journey. It will never show you the big picture of your progress. Trust me, I have walked down this road many times, and I would beat myself if I didn’t see the number on the scale move. I would do some unhealthy things to get the number to go down (like not eating, trying any fasting diet I thought I could do, excessive amounts of cardio). All I did was put my body in survivor mode. 

I gained all the weight back and then some. This journey is not just about losing weight. You have to approach it as an overall wellness journey. You want to ensure you are mentally prepared, spiritually grounded, and ready to be consistent. You also have to be prepared to be comfortable with the discomfort of pushing your body to a comfortable but challenging limit. You have the ability to create the body you want, but don’t allow the scale to be in control of how you walk on this path of reaching your goals.

Would you like to offer any new or different advice to women who want to lose weight? Stay consistent…even when you don’t have the energy or strength to keep going…stay consistent! And consistency may not always be the same each week…you may have a few days off but the following week you accomplish all of your goals you set for yourself. We are always our own worst critic, and we have to stop picking ourselves apart! Let’s start working on giving ourselves more grace! Never give up on yourself!

  These are the affirmations I repeat to myself on my journey. I hope they help you with yours, too.  I am confident and comfortable in my own skin.

I am beautiful, confident, and loved.

I’m so grateful for my healthy and strong body.

I will be gentle and kind to myself.

I believe in myself.

I am peaceful and whole.

I am allowed to take care of myself.

Anything worth having takes time.

I am capable and strong.

God wants me to take care of my vessel and treat it with respect.

I am enough.

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[serrurie]

Hello, friends. I hope your day yesterday was filled with blessings and joy. How’d you like the first blog? Did it feel tough? Crucial? If you haven’t felt insulted by it yet, I guess I have my work cut out for me. (Just kidding. Mostly.)

Today is day two of my wonderful new series, ‘Getting Your Life Together-Day 2: Smile’. So, do you have any guesses about today’s topic? Because, friends, it isn’t just about smiles. You smile with your eyes. You smile with the way you hold your hands, and the way your feet are pointed. We smile by showing how we take care of ourselves.

Be honest. Do you take care of yourself?

If you’re reading this lovely blog of mine, probably not. I just want you to know now, right at this very moment, that you look so amazing right now. It’s nearly unexplainable how beautiful we all are.

But, if you don’t put on your smile, you aren’t going to look near as beautiful as you are. Are you smiling right now? If not, you probably look grumpy, ticked off, like you have someplace else to be. You probably do have someplace else to be. But this is important.You are important.

And can I guess why you are so grumpy; you don’t like how you look, now do you?

Looks are one of the least important things I can cover, but in a way, their insignificance is what makes them so important. We need to recognize that looks aren’t everything. You are so much more than a face, and letting our good, inner person shine through is what we really need to focus on.

That being said, if you still aren’t happy with your looks, I am telling you right now that sulking about it isn’t the answer. If we are to change ourselves inside and out, for the better, than lounging around telling yourself that you're ugly is the worst possible thing you can do. 

I’m not saying to change yourself. I’m saying to better yourself. Get that face moisturizer on! Build that personal workout! Get out and do! It’s the only way you’re going to make a change.And if you don’t have motivation, take mine. I’ll give it up. Message me if you want a daily reminder from me, if you need a bit of encouragement in the next blog post about it, than go ahead! I’m ready to be here to help you meet your goals.

There’s a typical mistake I think you’re going to make if you start working out. It goes a little something like this:

I’ll start on a way too simple workout to make sure I don’t go overboard.

Wow, I didn’t get abs yet after doing this five minute workout for just one week.

*Gives up out of sadness that their body just can’t have abs*.

Of course, I dramatized it so you would get a better picture. But, this is a mistake I don’t want you to make. You can’t expect major results if you're treating your body like that of a preschooler’s. You need to make sure you are at the perfect interval for yourself. I do not want to see someone contacting me on here saying that they nearly passed out from their workout. That is not the way. You need something not too hard, and not too easy. The goal of working out is to create tiny tears in the fibers of your muscles, which then reform to create bigger muscles. (Link to information here: howmusclerepairworks)That's where the pain comes from. If you’re not feeling a decent amount of tension/pain, get yourself a more intense workout.

You may be asking yourself, ‘how do I know where I stand?’ Great question, friend. There are plenty of tests to measure where you’re at for different parts of the body.Here are some examples that I would encourage:

Step test- this measures cardiorespiratory endurance; measuring how long it takes to get your heart rate down to normal after stepping up and down on a stool for three minutes. To get your pulse, count the number of beats of your heart, multiply by four. That’s your heart rate. The shorter the amount of time, the better.

Repetition maximum- this measures how much you can lift without any injuries. If you have some weights at home, great! If not, find some items and put them on a scale, or try to find them on a website like Amazon to find their weight.If you don’t feel any tension, keep going up in weight until you do. Where you feel pain is where you need to work.

Stretching is extremely important when working out. If you don’t want cramps or to feel like a walking penguin when you're done, stretch before and after.

I bet you’re asking yourself why you should even go to all of the trouble to do all this. I’ll give you an answer. There is so much goodness waiting to blossom inside of us, but we can’t share that goodness to others unless we take care of ourselves. 

I’d like everyone reading this to try one of the tests and see where you’re at. Record your results in the comments. I really want to help you guys!

That’s it for today, friends. I hope your weekend is filled with love and kindness.

I love you!

         -Serrurie

[suckitsurveys]

Would you rather visit The Eiffel Tower or the Egyptian Pyramids? If someone wanted to pay for me to go to either of those places and knock me out on the plane ride, I’d be down for either.

Would you be surprised if your most recent ex called you tonight? I probably wouldn’t recognize the number and therefore would ignore it like I do most phone calls lol.

Do you need to lose or gain weight? I just need to get myself healthy. I don’t “need” to lose or gain anything.

Do you think you have a disorder but haven’t been properly diagnosed yet? Oh, for sure.

What is the population of the city you live in? Probably somewhere between 2.5 and 3.0 million if I had to guess.

How many pairs of jeans do you own? Three.

When did you last vacuum your room? My husband did a few days ago.

Have you ever put on or lost a significant amount of weight? Blah.

On a scale of 1-5, how often do you curse? I’d say like a 4/5.

What is the worst thing you’ve ever smelled? Oh lord. Spoiled food probably.

What’s your favorite social media platform? Instagram.

Name someone with brown eyes. My husband.

Do you know what your next injection will be? I should probably get on that and go to a doctor.

Does anyone call you darling? If so who? Not that I can think of.

If you had to have a cartoon character tattooed to you what would it be? I have three cartoon characters tattooed on me already ahahaha. I have BoJack, Brendon from Home Movies, and Pikachu. I’m also planning on getting Louise Belcher from Bob’s Burgers and maybe some more BoJack tattoos too lol.

You have to dye your hair two colours, what do you choose? I’m getting it rose gold this weekend, but I wouldn’t mind adding some light purple in there as well.

If you could would you look at your future self? No.

Who was your first serious relationship? I mean, looking back, I don’t think I was really SERIOUSLY serious about anyone until Mark. I knew I wanted to spend my life with him the first day I met him in person.

If you had to cut a parent out of your life who would you cut out? I mean, death kinda did that for me, so.

If you had to get a piercing right now what would you get done? I've been thinking about another hole in my right ear honestly. Other than that I am content on piercings.

Who is the #1 person/thing in your life? My husband.

What are two things you wish you never did? Neglected my health mainly.

Would you rather have three personal wishes or world peace? I could always use one of my wishes for world peace lol.

What were/is your high school colors? Blue and gold.

When someone sneezes, do you say “Bless you,” or “God Bless you?” Depends on the person. Sometimes I just don’t say anything.

Do you ever look at someone cute, and automatically make a move? No.

What are two things you are excited to do in the near future? Go to the Dells and Lollapalooza!.

Do you live in a house, apartment, or another type of arrangement? I live in an apartment.

Are you one of those people who like to spell out numbers? It just depends.

Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? My friend.

Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I don’t.

Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? I'm not 12.

Leggings with denim shorts; yes or no? I kinda like that look, or tights with denim shorts.

Do you plan your meals in any way? I usually plan out my breakfasts and lunches for the work week.

Were you in the scouts when you were young? Nope.

How many people could sleep in your home? (Not counting floor space; beds and couches only) I guess maybe 5? Our couch is huge and two people could sleep foot to foot, and you could technically fit three people on our bed.

Have you ever made a hole-in-one at mini-golf? Yes.

What genre was the last song you listened to? Who provided the vocals? Emo, I guess? Gerard Way provided the vocals.

If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? They’d have to find a way to contact me first.

What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? Nothing? I don’t care..

Truthfully, is there someone you used to date that you miss? Nope.

If you could go forward in time and see your life 5 years from now, what would you hope to see? I don’t wanna do that.

Are you more comfortable with men or women? It depends on the person, but generally women.

Who came over last? My niece.

Has one of your friends ever tried to “hook you up?” Yeah.

What is your card game of choice? Speed. I could play speed every day of my life.

What is your favourite books series? I don’t have one.

If you eat oatmeal, do you add water or milk to it and what’s your favorite flavor? I like it plain with oat milk. I like to oats to bathe in their own blood ahahahahahahahahaaaa.

Was the last video you watched on YouTube a music video and if not, what was it of? No, it was a reaction video to Colleen Ballinger’s “apology” video. Has anyone you know personally ever won the lottery and if so, how much did they win and would you or have you ever played the lottery? No and yes, I have.

What was the last thing someone has sincerely thanked you for? I mean my coworker just thanked me for helping him find something.

What band, celebrity, etc. do you know the most information about and who would you like to learn more about? Oh god. Where do you wanna start? Hahahaha. I know way too much about Pete Davidson, it’s slightly embarrassing lol. I’ve watched/listened to so many interviews of his.

[from-1-to-90]

New Beginnings - Day 1 of 90

It’s been a few years, but I am starting this up again in mid-2023 because I want to keep track of my fitness again and I also need some motivation. 

I injured my knee a year and a half ago, and so exercise of any kind (aside from physical therapy) has been fairly limited. However, I want to get back to properly exercising again, for mental health purposes if nothing else. I also need to get back to doing physical therapy again, because even though my knee is doing quite well, that leg is still just not as strong as my other leg due to the muscle atrophy post-surgery. 

The place I’m living in now has a gym, which helps a ton. Back when I did my first 90 day journey, I was living in a different apartment with a gym, and the convenience of being able to pop into that space to work out really helped me stay consistent. However, in the intervening years I moved out of that complex and lost my gym access. But now I have that convenience again and I hope to take full advantage of it. 

So here are some things that are different this time around vs first fitness journey back in late 2019:

Weight - I no longer own a scale. I've moved a couple of times in the past few years and my scale didn't make it. I know I tracked my weight quite a bit back in 2019 but I honestly don't know if it's a helpful metric anymore. I've seen posts from other people that showed before-and-after pics from their fitness journeys where they weighed almost the same before-and-after, but looked totally different. This was just due to muscle replacing fat, and muscle weighs a lot. I don't think I'm currently in a place where I need to focus on fat-loss - I'm mainly just wanting to build muscle, tone up, and get my surgical leg back to the same level of strength as my non-surgical leg. Also, even though I know all of the stuff I mentioned above, I am concerned that I might still have an emotional reaction to the number on the scale, if I do start weighing myself frequently. There's just so much emotional baggage attached to weight that I'd rather not deal with it this time around. So this time, I'm not going to set a weight goal. Instead, I'll be focusing on measurements as a means of tracking progress. (Will talk about that more down below.) At the same time, it would be nice to have a general idea of what a "healthy" weight for me is - as in, what weight my body sits around when I'm maintaining healthy habits. So I might still purchase a scale, but just really limit the number of times I weigh myself (like maybe keep it to once a month or something, and purely for the purposes of knowledge). I don't know, I can still see myself potentially getting upset if I weigh in at a certain month and the weight is higher than the month before - it's just a data point that's really difficult not to attach emotional significance to. So we'll see. I'll think about it.

Food - Last time around, I was pretty focused on weight loss, so I was a lot more careful about what I was eating. I kept track of each of my meals, and I think I did calorie-counting for a bit there. I am absolutely not calorie-counting this time around. First of all, I hate it, and second of all, it's not sustainable for me. It also causes me to attach a certain amount of emotional baggage to food (i.e. feeling like I was being "good" or "bad" if I ate clean or not on a given day). I don't think that's a healthy mindset to have. At the same time, I know that food is an important element of health, both mental and physical, and I have a tendency to treat it as an afterthought. So I will try to put more effort into planning healthy meals for myself as a way of addressing my health holistically. If I had a problem with consuming too few calories I might address this differently, but that's not really an issue I have.

Physical Therapy - I really want my surgical leg to get back to the same level of strength as my non-surgical leg. I can walk around just fine, but I tried doing the Blogilates "Shape of Your Thighs" squat challenge video a few weeks back, and I could tell the difference between my legs. I was only able to get about 30-ish seconds into the video before I felt like my surgical leg was about to give out. So staying consistent with my physical therapy regimen is going to be an important part of my new fitness journey.

Alright, so now that I've discussed what's different this time around, let's set some goals.

Goals

Workout for 30-60 mins 5-6x per week - I might end up having to scale back on this to more like 4-6x per week, but I might as well shoot for what I'm really wanting. And I do remember that the last time I did this in 2019, my mental health really improved from working out that frequently. So let's give this a try.

Physical Therapy - I want to do my physical therapy exercises at least 2-3x per week, with the goal of getting my surgical leg up to the same strength as my non-surgical leg. A example metric would be the ability to do the full "Shape of Your Thighs" workout, feeling like my legs are equally capable the entire time.

Healthy meal-planning - I want to be more mindful about what I'm putting into my body and at what frequency. I have a tendency to wait too long to eat meals because I get absorbed in what I'm doing and I don't want to focus on making myself food, so then I just end up eating whatever snacks are around the house hours later. I know this isn't good for my body or my brain, so I want to do a better job of planning out meals for myself and eating them every 4 hours.

Blog at least once every other day - This is a rather lofty goal, so I might need to scale this back. But blogging about my experience helps me stay motivated, so I think it will be beneficial. Also, it's really helpful to have these details recorded so that later on I can see what worked for me / what didn't. I specifically want to record how I felt and what I did for exercise that day. I can throw in some info about food if I feel like it.

Self-care r&r once per week - I hope I'm not taking on too much by adding this, but I think it's important for me to remember to approach this holistically. Clean eating and exercise are absolutely forms of self-care, but I don't want to neglect the rest and relaxation side of self-care. To this end, I will try to do something like taking a nice, relaxing bath, or going on a walk in a beautiful part of nature once per week to keep myself rested and rejuvenated.

So without further ado, here's my tracking for Day 1.

How I felt

Normal? I guess? Today was the first day I worked out in months, so any changes will be more evident in the upcoming days / weeks. I'm very happy that I felt motivated to work out and start this whole process up again. Weirdly, I think the motivation came because I wore a sports bra yesterday (not to work out, I was just wearing one). And somehow my brain made the mental link between wearing exercise clothing and wanting to work out. (Currently making a mental note of this - wearing exercise clothing motivates me to work out. I should take advantage of that. It seems silly, but hey, whatever works, right?)

Also I should mention that it's been a while since I've taken a tolerance break for my ADHD meds. In an ideal world, I'd take a full week off my meds every few months to help reset my brain's tolerance to the medication. However, in practice, it's actually been about 8-ish months since I took my last full tolerance break, and I can definitely tell. It feels like my meds aren't working as well, and that's because they aren't (because my brain has gotten used to them over the past several months). Given that I don't want to increase my dosage any more than I absolutely have to, I really need to take a tolerance break soon to reset. However, I have a lot of things coming up over the next few weeks so I don't think I'll be able to do it soon. I did take off Saturday (a couple of days ago), and it helped a little, because I was definitely a lot more able to focus on Sunday. Even taking off a day or two here or there is better than nothing - I have to remember that. In any case, maybe that one break day was also helpful in getting me motivated to start doing this again.

But this actually brings me to another key reason why I'm starting this up again - exercise helps a TON with medication tolerance. Back when I did this in 2019, I was on the verge of needing to increase my dosage because my dosage at the time just wasn't cutting it anymore, despite taking tolerance breaks. But after exercising so regularly, I ended up not needing to increase my dosage for another year! Exercise helps to reset your neural receptors so that your brain doesn't grow tolerant to the medication as quickly, and so the medication ends up working better for longer.

I also felt so much better mentally when I was exercising regularly. I remember thinking that I couldn't believe the difference it made in my mental and emotional health. So that's the other big reason why I'm doing this. I need all the help I can get with focus and motivation in my daily life, and I know that exercising will give me a significant boost in that arena.

Workout Session

50 minutes (including short breaks between sets)

Elliptical machine - 10 mins, quick pace, going back and forth between level 3 & 4

Block A PT exercises

Treadmill - 10 mins, 0.48 miles

Measurements (in inches)

Chest: 36.5" Waist: 32" inches" Left bicep (unflexed): 11" Left bicep (flexed): 11.75" Right bicep (unflexed): 11.5" Right bicep (flexed): 12.5" Left thigh (3 inches down): 23" Right thigh (3 inches down): 24"

[nothorses]

I think one aspect of "callout culture" and harassment campaigns that we really need to talk about more is the silence.

Not just the kind that happens when someone is forced to bend to the hate mob outright; I'm talking about the kind that happens even if you fight it, and even if you "win". Because these callouts aren't just about that initial attack and the individual, or even community-level response to the accusations contained in them. They're about doing long-term damage; they're about inflicting trauma.

It doesn't matter how many people you block, how successfully you ignore it, or how provably, laughably false their accusations are to anyone who gives half a shit or has half a braincell to work with. The point is not to get you to admit defeat, or even to acknowledge them.

It's to silence you, hurt you, and control you.

Weeks go by without a word more on the situation, and even though you're ostensibly fine, you are just... exhausted. It is completely and utterly exhausting to even think about speaking, and not just about the subjects that people were to angry about last time; about anything. Putting energy and passion into something only for people to purposefully misinterpret and weaponize it against you is tiring, no matter the scale.

You write with the knowledge that someone is going to twist your words this way or that way, you edit with every possible misinterpretation playing out vividly in your head, you hit post feeling every pair of watchful eyes on you, you scroll through your notifications looking for anything that indicates any potential bad-faith reading you need to guard against, and you check your messages dreading the threats, violent wishes, stomach-churning accusations, guilt-trips, and emotional manipulation you can never show anyone; not only because it's too senselessly violent for anyone to have to see, but because you know that anything you say in response will just bring around even more of each and every one of the things you were worried about before you started writing that post in the first place.

It's trauma.

It's been silent for weeks, but the trauma is still there; and it'll remind you of its presence, too. A hateful message here, a concerned "heads up" forwarded to you there, it doesn't matter. Just enough that you remember what will happen to you if you step out of line again: speak too loudly, talk to the wrong person, say something too casually or too quickly...

And even if you don't feel it, the people around you do. They see how bad it gets, and they're (rightfully) afraid of becoming the next target. Or they're afraid of even getting involved, of trying to untangle the whole mess, picking the wrong side by accident, or saying the wrong thing. They see the panopticon you're in, the weight and stress and trauma of it, and even if it's subconscious, they don't want to touch it. They stay away from the thing that might hurt them, even if they're trying not to give in. It's just instinct.

Some of them will taste the artificial shame your name now carries on their tongues, even if they know it's unreasonable. Some small part of them maybe thinks, "Maybe they deserve this, just a little. Maybe they did do something wrong." Because the alternative- the reality that no amount of genuine innocence will save them if the wrong person notices them the wrong sort of way- is much, much harder to stomach. And that uncertainty makes them hold just those few more words back.

The silence is a slow, creeping inevitability. It doesn't matter how it started; the silence is how it will end.

Because it will always be easier to just... not. To quietly withdraw and find something new to be talk about instead. To give up fighting after you feel like you've "won", but before you're exposed to more hurt. And aren't there other things that matter more, anyway? Sure, you were once passionate about this- but if you can fool yourself into thinking you're giving it up for some natural, inevitable reason, maybe you can sneak off into the relative safety of obscurity without having to think too hard about it.

And there's no shame in that. In fact, it's almost certainly the healthy choice. But the fact of the matter is that they still silenced you.

I don't know what the solution is, but I know that we need to keep fighting; even as the silence creeps in to replace the tangible, easy-to-fight threats. And that means we need to talk about it.

[callmefitz]

fine. fine I did it. luca fic where massimo is trying to be a good parent for his teenage fish son. yes its the painfully awkward i know you’re gay talk. i wrote this at 2 am while projecting so this isn’t shakespeare, just a vibe. set sometime 3-4 years after the film but i think it’s implied enough.

—————————————————-

Alberto ran up the stairs, threw open the door, dropped his hat on the table and hastily washed his hands at the sink.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said breathlessly, wiping his hands on the front of his shirt, “I got caught up in, uh, well-“

“Showing off?” Massimo offered, turning from his workstation in the kitchen. Alberto laughed nervously and nodded- then paused- and shook his head while looking away.

“Well, I prefer the term ‘sharing with the community’” Alberto offered, before pulling out a large pot and placing it on the stove.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Massimo returned to the cutting the fish, “It’s a nice bike.”

It was a nice bike. Nice enough that the kids in Portorossa frequently begged Alberto to let them sit on it or ride it around the plaza. And who was he to say no? It was the coolest thing he had ever set his eyes on, let alone owned. Of course he let them use it. Alberto had been saving up his tip money from fish delivery all winter to buy it: a shiny, brand-new, red-hot Vesta. Just like the one Erocle used to parade around town on. Giulia and Luca were going to be so excited.

Alberto began pouring cups of water into the pot as he raised the heat, waiting for it to hit a soft boil. “So how much time do we have?”

Massimo glanced out the window facing the countryside, where the distance etchings of train tracks were visible, “About an hour. Luca’s parents will meet us at the station. Then, dinner.”

“An hour. Right. We can work with that,” Alberto said, mainly to himself, as Massimo continued with his fish. They both fell into a steady rhythm, as they stirred and simmered an outrageous amount of food.

While his hands were lost in repetition, Alberto’s mind wandered to Luca. Massimo liked to joke about how Luca never truly left, with all the letters and phone calls sent, but Alberto couldn’t disagree more. Words couldn’t capture the way Luca would say things, like how he yelled when he was excited and talk quickly when he was nervous. And sure, Alberto could read between the lines, and infer things, like how scrunched up words meant Luca was happy or excited and messy letters and wonky lines meant he was tired, but it wasn’t the real thing. And phone calls, while better, were fewer and far inbetween, and couldn’t capture the way Luca would move when talking, whether it was the way he walked or gestured, or the faces he would make and the way he would touch your shoulder or grab your arm to make a point. So no- Luca had truly left, and while Alberto had seen glimpses and pieces throughout the months, he preferred the whole Luca he got during the summer.

One hour. One hour and Alberto wouldn’t have to rely just on letters and voices. It would be just them again, like it was every summer, whether it be sleeping under the stars in Giulia’s hideout, or swimming out to the island to watch the sunsets, or spending afternoons filling up on gelato and playing futbol on the hot pavement. Giulia would be there too, and the trio would finally be complete. Just like how it was that first summer, and just how it was now.

Had Alberto mentioned he was excited?

“The pasta is boiling over,” Massimo provided helpfully, and Alberto was thrust back into reality.

He swore under his breath, moving the pot to another eye and turning the stove off. He sighed and grabbed for a towel to wipe the sides of the pot. Turning his back to Massimo, he began searching for a strainer, but was interrupted.

“Alberto.” Massimo put his knife down and turned slightly. His face was drawn so that his eyes peeked out from under his eyebrows and bore down to Alberto (no matter how tall Alberto got, Massimo was always, well, massive).

“There is something we need to talk about before the train comes in.”

And there it was. Or, rather, there it wasn’t, because those words never came out of Massimo’s mouth. Maybe it was because, despite everything between them, Massimo just wasn’t a big feelings guy. He was a man of few words who would rather hand-paint signs, mend hats, and hand-make pasta than say “I love you.” Not that Alberto cared much, about that, he couldn’t complain honestly, but the point was that Massimo never “had talks”. If something was serious to discuss in private, it was always “Alberto, a word”. Because Massimo was a man of few words. So it was understandable, then, that that string of words elicited panic in Alberto. Because never in a million years, not even when Massimo first asked Alberto to stay with him, did they ever have something they needed to talk about.

Good thing Alberto was good at handling panic. He was basically an expert.

“Yeah, like what?”

He held his elbow out to lean against the counter in a calm manner, but missed and instead landed on the red hot stove eye. All while maintaining a smirk-turned-grimace. Yep. Expert.

That was going to hurt later. A lot.

Massimo looked at Alberto, searching for something in his face, and, upon finding it, sighed, and turned to the window where the train-tracks were. Absentmindedly, he turned the faucet of the sink on, and letting it cool for a moment, held a rag under it. Once it was wet enough, he handed it to Alberto.

“Luca is a... good kid, no?” Massimo led after a moment of contemplation. Alberto took the rag, but his face scrunched up in confusion as he held it to his elbow. Faintly, he felt the familiar tingle of flesh-turning scale as the coolness took the edge from the burn. But the beginnings of a frown was settling on Alberto as he followed Massimo’s gaze to the train tracks.

“Yeah?”

Massimo nodded. “He is very smart. He writes often. He knows fish... but not as well as you do.”

Alberto inched closer to Massimo, “Yeah, he’s pretty cool. One of my best friends but... I think you know that.”

“He is a very good friend,” Massimo said, but something felt strange about the way he said it, “Handsome, too.”

Alberto’s body froze and his face heated up. Before he could say anything contradictory, however, Massimo continued.

“I know the way you two look at each other. Young love. It’s a good thing, especially when it’s between friends who have known each other for so long.” Massimo said slowly, “And if you ever want to take Luca out for some gelato on your Vespa... then I will be very happy for you, Beto. He’s a good kid. Good for you.”

Alberto wasn’t going to lie. He had thought about it, once or twice. In his head it always played out so incredibly natural, that a part of him assumed it would eventually happen. Giulia would be busy, either delivering fish or volunteering for the cup, and he and Luca would be on their own for the day. Maybe they bike to the top of Portorosso, or maybe they went out to the island or climbed a roof to watch the stars. Sometimes it would be just them having dinner together, and something would give- one of them would brush hands with the other, lean in just a little too close and stay there... then... well, it would be just like it to was. But more. And selfishly, maybe if they were more, Luca wouldn’t leave at the end of the season.

But Alberto couldn’t think like that. Luca loved school more than anything. Well, almost anything. He would never want to take that from him.

But Massimo was right. Luca was handsome. Summers in Portorosso had been kind to him, and they’ve both put on some healthy weight and muscle over the years. Even if they hadn’t been friends, Alberto had no doubt he would have been fond of Luca regardless.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon,” Albert said candidly. “But... Thanks. For that. I guess.”

Massimo shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Giulia tells me a lot.”

Impossible scenarios ran through Alberto’s head. The wheels were spinning so fast that smoke was practically spewing from his ears.

“Like what?”

Massimo glanced out the window again, “I guess he’ll just have to tell you when he gets here.”

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”